by Robin Gianna
Aaron nearly fidgeted under the admiring gazes of all three of them. It was the school of hard knocks, not heroism, that motivated the work he did.
“Well, we’re very impressed with it,” Mrs. Adams said. “And now we’re going to enjoy the decadent things on that dessert table.”
After another handshake, they wandered off and Aaron turned to Hope. “Thanks for talking with them. Maybe you’ve veered onto the wrong career path, and sales and marketing are your real calling.”
“Selling things I’m excited about? Easy. Selling itchy socks or bad-tasting toothpaste just because it was my job? I’m pretty sure I’d be an utter failure at that.” The humor in her gaze, the sheer intelligence, drew him closer without even realizing he’d gone there.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting a sudden urge to reach out and sweep away a tendril of hair that had slipped across her eye. Maybe she’d seen him staring at its silkiness, as her slender fingers lifted to her face, shoving it aside. Fingers that weren’t wearing anything resembling a wedding ring.
And that knowledge kindled the hot spark of interest he’d felt the second she’d walked into the room. “I’d suggest again we share some champagne to eliminate all thoughts of bad-tasting toothpaste, but don’t want to be pushy about drinking if you don’t want to.” Champagne was nice, but holding Hope Sanders close in his arms? An entire case of Dom Pérignon couldn’t begin to compare to that kind of ambrosia. “So how about dancing with me instead?”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed they’ve just finished up a swing tune and aren’t playing at the moment.”
“That’s funny, I hear music. Don’t you?” That fate she’d talked about played right into his hand as a slow song began to echo around the room. She dazzled him with another smile as he reached for her hand, folding its soft warmth within his. He led her onto the floor, and the number of people crowding it made holding her fairly close a necessity he was more than happy about. “This kind of music is more my speed anyway, when it comes to dancing. Which for me mostly consists of rocking from one foot to the other, I’m sorry to say. Not my best talent.”
“So what is your best talent?”
There was almost a seductive quality to her voice and the amazing blue of her eyes looking into his robbed him of breath. He was pretty sure she didn’t realize the way she’d asked the question, and he fought down the desire to press her body even closer to his, along with an offer to show her one of them.
“Hmm, that’s a tough one. I’m good at my job, but I’m not sure that qualifies as a talent. I can kick a mean soccer ball and used to throw a damn good football spiral, too.” He lowered his head close to her ear, and her soft hair tickled his temple. “But probably my best talent?”
“I think I’m sorry I asked.” Her voice was a little breathy, and the sexy sound of it sent him sliding his palm from between her shoulder blades down to just above the curve of her shapely behind, bringing her body closer to his.
“Sorry, why?”
“Afraid that maybe your talent is something my innocent ears can’t handle.”
“Are your ears innocent?” He studied her, amused and curious. Innocent, no, as she clearly was used to sophisticated banter. But there was something guileless about her, a sweetness and sincerity that went beyond appealing. “Don’t worry, I’m a gentleman. Your ears are safe.”
Their bodies swaying together in a fit so perfect it was hard to tell where his body began and hers ended, they danced in silence for long minutes. Her sweet scent filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in, holding her close enough to feel the brush of her breasts against his chest. Her forehead grazed his chin and her hand was tucked into his and pressed to his sternum as if they knew each other much better than two people who had met only ten minutes ago.
Aaron had been with quite a few women in his life, and he found himself studying the curve of her ear, the smoothness of her skin, trying to figure out what, exactly, made this feel somehow different. Had he ever felt a connection this instant and intense with anyone before? Or was he just not remembering?
The music drew to a close and they slowly separated, their eyes meeting. Her lips were parted, her skin seemed a little flushed, and it took every ounce of willpower for Aaron to remember they were in a public place in the middle of a hundred people. To remember he couldn’t pull her back into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
“You still haven’t told me,” Hope said, apparently trying to bring normalcy back to the moment, replacing the chemistry that was pinging hot and fast between them.
“Told you what?”
“What your best talent is.”
Damn if the curve of her lips wasn’t pure temptation. Temptation to try to impress her by showing her at least one answer to that question.
CHAPTER TWO
HOPE’S HEART KEPT doing an uncontrollable little dance of its own as she looked up at Aaron Cartwright. At the smile in his rich brown eyes as they stared into hers. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to ask that question. Again. She might not be a shy belle, but neither was she a flirtatious siren. Yet here she was, saying things that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but suggestive.
She’d hoped she might meet Aaron at this party. But she hadn’t expected to dance with the tall, ridiculously good-looking fertility specialist that practically every nurse and midwife at the hospital swooned over when he passed through the hallways.
She’d never have dreamed it possible, but the man was even more swoon-worthy in his tuxedo. And here she was, being held in his strong arms, dancing so closely they could have kissed by moving their faces barely an inch.
His deliciously male body radiating heat like a furnace, the way his big hand caught and held hers against his muscular chest, the deep, sexy rumble of his voice in her ear, all had combined to steal every molecule of breath from her lungs and, apparently, all sense from her brain as well. How else could she explain asking him—a second time, as though she really needed to know—what his best talent was?
Lord. She swallowed, embarrassment seeping through her body, adding to the heat that had nearly sent her up in flames. She stepped off the dance floor with him fluidly moving next to her and opened her mouth to say something, anything, that could possibly make him forget her last question, when he spoke.
“Punting.”
She stared up at him blankly. “Punting?”
“Maybe not my best talent, but yes, I’m very good at it.”
A nervous and relieved laugh escaped her throat. Thank heavens he wasn’t going to take her up on her unfortunate innuendo. “You already told me you’re good at kicking a football...er...soccer ball to Americans. Unless you mean gambling?”
“I never gamble. At least, not with money.” He slid her a teasing look, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners messed with her breathing all over again. “The punting I’m referring to is in a boat. You may think only Cambridge residents and tourists enjoy lazily shoving themselves down a river, but we’ve been doing it back home for centuries, too.”
“And where is back home?” Since the midwives liked to talk about the various handsome men in the hospital, she knew he was American and from California, but not much other than that.
“Northern California. Wine country.”
“Wine country? And here I’d assumed being from California that you were a surfer dude.”
His eyes twinkled as the crinkles around them got deeper. “I’ve surfed, but I don’t think that moniker fits me. And do you have any idea how adorable the words ‘surfer dude’ sound in your wonderful British accent?”
“I don’t have an accent. You’re the one with an accent.” Which she found incredibly sexy, she had to admit, but wasn’t about to say that and embarrass herself all over again.
“If you say so.” H
e leaned closer. “But please let me hear you say ‘surfer dude’ one more time.”
She laughed and felt her face heat again, but this time she had a feeling it was from his closeness, and how wonderful he smelled and looked, and how it all made her heart beat a little faster. “So people punt in wine country? Are there little canals between the vineyards?” she joked.
“Yes. They’re filled with grape juice.” His wink and grin were so charming, she had a bad feeling she might swoon for real next time she saw him at the hospital, requiring a hefty dose of smelling salts. “The punting I did back home was in Denver, Colorado, where I went to med school. Learned on Cherry Creek, and eventually raced. All the punting here is one of the reasons I liked the idea of working in Cambridge for a while.”
“I find it hard to believe you consider punting a talent. I mean, how difficult could it be to shove a boat down a river with a pole?”
“You live here and don’t know the answer to that?” He stared at her. “Punting takes a lot of practice. And it’s excellent exercise. Surely you’ve tried it?”
“Well, no actually. I’ve been on the River Cam many times in the punts, but always had someone else manning the pole. Should I be embarrassed to admit that, since I was born and raised here?”
“This is shocking. And also unacceptable.” He shook his head as his warm palm slid down her arm to grasp her elbow, propelling her across the room. “I assume you have a coat checked?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do you have a car here?”
“No, I came with another midwife from the hospital. I—”
“Good.” They stopped at the coat check closet and he held out his hand. “May I have your ticket?”
She fumbled in her evening bag for it, wondering what in the world he was up to, and why she was getting out the ticket and giving it to him when she had no idea as to the answer. “The party’s only half over. Are you throwing me out because I’m a shame to the CRMU and the entire city of Cambridge?”
He flashed her a devastating smile. “You, Hope Sanders, are obviously a shining star. Which is also why we have to fix this problem immediately. I’m taking you to the River Cam for a little punting lesson.”
“What? Surely you can’t leave this early? Besides, it’s freezing outside! I can’t believe you did your punting in November.”
“I can leave whenever I want. I’ve given my talk and the guests are all happy. And it’s not freezing.” He slid her coat on before donning his own. “Fifty degrees Fahrenheit is downright balmy. We punted year round, just like people do here, in much colder temps than that.”
“But I’m wearing a long gown! And you’re in a tuxedo, for heaven’s sake.” Was the man out of his mind? No way was she getting on that river tonight, but she couldn’t deny feeling a thrill of excitement at the idea of going out with Aaron Cartwright. Which was utterly crazy, since now was definitely not the time to get involved with a man. Not with her life about to change forever. “I’m not punting tonight and that’s that.”
“I’m about to gamble that you might change your mind about that, Ms. Sanders. Let’s hit a pub by the river and decide from there.” The humor in his eyes and the feel of his warm hand closing around hers left her with zero ability to protest again. “Come on.”
* * *
Hope was still a little disbelieving that she was now sitting intimately close to Aaron Cartwright as he drove his purring sports car through the city. They talked about the hospital and work, but the bland conversation didn’t slow her heart rate to normal. Probably because he smelled amazingly good, looked even better and kept glancing at her with unmistakable interest in his eyes.
No use in pretending to herself that she didn’t share that interest. But from what she’d heard, the man was one of those love-’em-and-leave-’em types, involved with a woman for just a few months before moving on. Of course, her own history had proven she wasn’t relationship material anyway. Not to mention that, scary though it was, she was about to give herself the gift of a child very soon. The child she’d dreamed of forever.
Since neither one of them was into relationships, this odd excursion wasn’t a big deal, then, right? Why not just go along for the ride and enjoy herself?
He parked the car, then walked around the front of it to open her door. The moment she stepped out, a chilly wind whipped her hair, dipped inside her coat collar and fluttered the skirt of her dress. She hugged herself and cocked her head at him. “Still think it’s downright balmy out here?”
“Maybe it’s not quite as balmy as I thought.” He wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side as they walked to the path lining the river. The glow of electric lamps warmly illuminated the stony path and the dark water as it flowed hypnotically beside them. The brick exteriors of several pubs were lit, too, as they strolled past rows of empty punts bobbing shoulder to shoulder in the water. “A glass of brandy might warm us up, then we’ll decide if maybe this was a harebrained idea after all.”
“No maybe about it.” Then again, without his harebrained idea, she wouldn’t be standing here in the curve of his arm being held close to his big, warm body, which felt absurdly cozy and nice. “But I admit it’s beautiful outside tonight. And I also hate to admit that I rarely come here to enjoy it.”
“Too busy working? Or playing?”
“Working.” She was past her playing days. Though at that moment, the pleasure she felt just walking with Aaron in the crisp, starry night made her wonder if that was as true as she’d believed it was.
The thought brought her to a sudden standstill. Of course she was done with her playing days. Hadn’t wanted them for years anyway. She’d gone out on the town because there’d been no one special in her life, and no child of her own to keep her home. Enjoying this night out with Aaron didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of being a loving, dedicated mother.
She glanced up at Aaron and could tell he wondered why she’d stopped walking. She forced a smile at him and started moving again. “Plus, I live on the outskirts of town, so I just don’t get into the city center very often.”
“You said you were born and raised here?”
“Yes. Been here forever. Went to university here, too, except when I did my advanced midwife training in London.” He was looking at her a little quizzically. “I take it you think that’s a little strange, since you lived in California, went to university in Denver and now you’re here.”
“I’ve traveled to a lot of other places over the years. Been accused many times of being the stone that refuses to gather moss.” His teeth flashed in a white smile. “I don’t think it’s strange that you’ve dug roots in here, but I admit moving around is more my style. That I’ve been here three years is a surprise to me, to be honest. I’m sure the travel bug will bite me one of these days and I’ll move on.”
The utter opposite of Hope. She couldn’t imagine how he didn’t feel a need to put down roots somewhere. Cambridge felt like a part of her, deeply entwined with her heart and her soul, and settling in there forever like a broody hen with her job and a family was all she’d ever wanted.
The patio of the pub they came to held a few hardy souls sitting at a table, but most were cozy inside. Cheerful music somehow penetrated beyond the thick brick to where they stood, and through the windows Hope could see a crowd of people mingling and laughing. Those days would be completely behind her very soon, and she closed her eyes and smiled, visualizing her new future.
Motherhood.
Despite the chill, she wasn’t ready to go inside. She wanted to breathe in the fresh air and take in the surprising pleasure of walking with a man holding her close before there would be no possibility of that happening anytime soon.
She looked up at Aaron, surprised to see his eyes were on her and not the pub, his expression inscrutable. “Shall we walk just
a bit farther?” she asked, wanting the moment to last a little longer. “That bridge up ahead is spectacular.”
“The whole city is beautiful. I’ve been impressed with its architecture since the day I got here.” He tugged her closer as they resumed their walk. “The path ends at the bridge, so we’ll have to double back or climb the stairs from the riverbank to the restaurants and pubs up there.”
The glow of lights faded behind them as they neared the dead end just before the old gothic-style bridge, where one lone punt disappeared on the water beyond it. Aaron dropped his arm from her shoulders, sliding it down to grasp her hand again as he turned to look at her. “I enjoy walking along here often,” he said, his voice quiet. “But tonight it’s especially beautiful. Thanks for coming with me, even though you didn’t really want to.”
“It was punting in an evening dress that was the problem, Dr. Cartwright. And the cold air. And the threat of exercise.” Though she wasn’t feeling at all cold. In fact, an intense warmth seemed to be creeping across every inch of her skin beneath her coat. “Who knew I’d be glad you dragged me here?”
He laughed, the sound a soft rumble in his chest as he drew her close. “So my gamble paid off.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
For one split second, she was stunned with surprise. Then it was quickly gone, replaced by a punch of desire the likes of which she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. Her eyelids flickered closed as his mouth moved oh-so-skillfully on hers. Teasing and tasting, sweet then intense, with a hunger that made her dizzy. She gasped into his mouth as her heart pounded and her knees wobbled, and she blindly lifted her hands to grip his wide shoulders so she wouldn’t sink straight to the stone path.
His mouth moved from hers to caress the sensitive spot beneath her ear before warmly sliding across her jawline and up her cold cheek to rest at the corner of her lips. “You taste better than anything on that buffet dessert table, Hope,” he whispered. “Better than champagne. Better than the finest vintage in Napa Valley.”
