by Lori Wilde
His grin widened, and Tobie could see she wasn’t fooling him a bit. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll put on a shirt… for you.”
While Clay went to the bedroom for his shirt, Tobie heated the formula in the microwave then tested the temperature on her bare forearm before pouring it into the bottle. The baby made sucking noises at the sight.
“You are hungry, aren’t you, little one?” Tobie nestled Molly into the crook of her arm and settled the rubber nipple into her greedy mouth. The baby clamped her hands eagerly around the bottle.
Clay came back into the room, casually tugging a white cotton T-shirt down over his distracting biceps. Tobie breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him properly covered.
He popped the top on his beer and strolled into the living room. Smoothing down his hair with one hand, he found the remote and flipped on the TV.
Tobie, still feeding Molly, joined him on the sofa.
“I put a frozen pizza in the oven just before Molly woke up. Wanna join me?” he asked, taking a sip of beer. “Feeding you is the least I can do for all the trouble I’ve put you through today.”
“That’s a really nice offer, but I’ve got to be going.” Tobie sneaked a peek at her watch. Six-fifteen. She could still make it.
The oven timer dinged, and the yeasty garlic smell of pizza filled the one large room.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Clay got up and ambled to the kitchen. He pulled out a pizza from the oven with an oven mitt. “It’s pepperoni and Italian sausage.”
Edward would never eat frozen pizza. He claimed it was a gastronomical horror. Secretly, Tobie kind of liked them. She’d lived on frozen pizza in med school.
“I can’t eat it all,” he said. “C’mon. One slice won’t kill you.”
“Well...” Tobie hesitated. Her stomach growled. She’d had two slices of avocado toast for breakfast and that apple for lunch. The pizza smelled delicious.
“You’re gonna make me eat alone?” He gave her sad eyes.
“Maybe just one small slice but then I really have to go—”
“Yay!” He dished up the pizza on paper plates. “Company.”
Molly sucked the bottle dry. Her eyelids drooped. Tobie brought the baby to her shoulder and gently patted her back.
“You’re good with Molly,” he said, setting two paper plates filled with pizza down on the coffee table in front of them, then settled himself on the sofa next to Tobie.
“So are you.”
“Strange, neither one of us has kids.”
“I want some, one day.”
“Me, too,” Clay said. “Or at least I thought I did until I spent a day with that little pistol. ’Course, I’ve got to find the right woman first.” He leaned over and affectionately ruffled Molly’s hair.
The baby grinned at him.
“Hey, are you finally gonna give me a smile?”
Molly held out her arms, and Clay took her, bouncing the baby on his knee. Unable to bear the temptation of the pizza, Tobie took a slice from the paper plate.
“Hey, no fair starting without me,” Clay teased.
“You’re the one with the baby in your lap. Haven’t you ever heard? Parents do not get to eat uninterrupted meals.”
“Ha!” Clay got up, took Molly to the baby swing in the corner, buckled her in, and wound the thing up. “Pop goes the Weasel” played while Molly swung back and forth.
Clay strolled back, sat cross-legged on the floor at Tobie’s feet, and helped himself to a slice.
“Umm,” Tobie said. It had been a long time since she’d had a pizza. Well over a year ago. Before she’d started dating Edward.
“You got a hot date tonight or what?” Clay asked.
“Nothing like that.” Tobie shook her head. “My fiancé is speaking at a political fundraiser for the American Medical Association. Speaking of which…” She glanced at her phone. “I’ve got to get going, or I’m going to be late.”
5
Fiancé.
Right. Dr. Tobie Avery was engaged. He had no business thinking the thoughts he’d been thinking. She was taken.
He could well imagine Tobie’s upwardly mobile fiancé. Good-looking with impeccable manners. Controlled. A mover and shaker. Clay knew the type. Heck, his folks were that type. They had wanted him to take his place in their high society world.
The fiancé was probably the perfect mate for the accomplished young doctor perched on the edge of his sofa. Clay was unimpressed by that world, but Tobie impressed him.
“Politics.” He shook his head. “Yuck.”
“I agree,” Tobie said. “But Edward is involved in medical policymaking, and I hate to disappoint him.”
“Sounds like you guys have little in common.” How could a woman as fine as Dr. Tobie disappoint any man? Clay wondered, suddenly very conscious of her slender legs just inches from his arm.
“We have a lot in common,” Tobie protested.
“Such as?” What wicked elf prompted him to goad her? Was it the odd pinch of jealousy rippling through his chest?
“Uh...” Tobie blinked. “Well, we’re both doctors. Although he’s a plastic surgeon, and I’m a pediatrician.”
Clay watched her face and wondered who Tobie was trying to convince, him or herself.
“Yeah, but that’s career stuff. What do you guys do for fun when you’re together?”
“Edward and I both enjoy the opera and gourmet cooking. Edward is a connoisseur of fine dining.”
“There’s not a lot of opera or fine dining in the Trans-Pecos.”
“We travel to Washington D.C. and New York City regularly.”
Clay looked at the half-consumed pizza in her hand. “Not exactly haute cuisine, is it?”
“Huh?”
“The pizza.”
“Oh. I meant nothing derogatory about the pizza. It’s delicious. In fact, I adore pizza. I haven’t eaten pizza in such a long time, I was savoring the taste.”
“Old Ed doesn’t like pizza, huh?”
That got a smile out of her. “He hates for people to call him Ed, and how did you know he was older?”
“A guess.”
“I see.”
“How much older?” He couldn’t resist asking.
“Sixteen years.”
“Since he is your fiancé, I’ll refrain from geriatric jokes.” Clay could see why Edward would want a beautiful young woman like Tobie on his arm. What plastic surgeon wouldn’t kill for a wife so gorgeous? It would do wonders for his business. What Clay couldn’t figure out was what she got out of the deal. Did she have a daddy complex?
Tobie nibbled on her pizza. A dot of tomato sauce rested on her chin.
Clay suppressed an urge to lean over and kiss the sauce away. What was he thinking? Dr. Tobie Avery was engaged.
Not only that, but he couldn’t afford to get involved with anyone. Not now. Not before one of his inventions paid off big time. Once he’d proven himself, then he could think about a wife and kids; until that day, he was flying solo. By then Tobie would wed old Ed with a half-dozen kids in tow.
But she was exactly the kind of woman he wanted when the time came: independent, successful, good with children. Not to mention hot, intelligent, and sexy as hell.
“Molly’s out like a light.” Tobie nodded at the baby.
“Huh?” Clay blinked, pulling his thoughts back to the present. “Oh, yeah, she is.”
“I better go.”
“Thanks again for your help.” Clay unfurled his legs and got to his feet.
“I need to wash up.” Tobie finished her pizza and held up her hands.
“Oh, sure. Hey, I’ll show you my no-drip faucet. I’ve got one for every sink.”
“No-drip faucet?”
“One of my inventions.”
She got up and followed Clay into the kitchen. He turned on the faucet and began describing the design.
“See,” he said, “there are no internal washers. They’re unnecessary with the Barton No-Drip Fauce
t. Since there are no washers, they can’t wear out. Guaranteed no drips for the life of the faucet.” He turned the faucet off and on several times for effect. “But I’m working on bigger things now.”
“You expect to be an inventor for the rest of your life?”
Clay arched his eyebrows. “Sure. Inventing is my life. Love me, love my inventions.”
Tobie shook her head.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you think that’s a little unrealistic?”
“Unrealistic?”
“Being an inventor.”
“No.” Clay crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance. “Somebody has to invent things.”
“How do you ever expect to support a family on an inventor’s unreliable income? Or do you never intend on getting married?”
He shrugged. “I’ll provide for my family when the time comes.”
“Please don’t have kids while you follow your bliss.”
“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.”
“No.” He reached out and touched her elbow. “I want to hear it. What’s on your mind, Doctor? Tell me why you so heartily disapprove of the way I live my life.”
Tobie stared into those gray eyes and felt herself losing all sense of direction. Inventors should look like Albert Einstein with wild hair and mismatched socks, or a nerdy scientist with pocket protectors and thick black glasses, not like some sexy cowboy in snug-fitting Wranglers.
She had to admit she’d never met a man quite so alive. He stepped closer, and Tobie’s nerves hummed as if she’d just downed a gallon of espresso.
“You think I’m a bum.”
“No... not at all.” Tobie gulped. She could see each dark hair of his five o’clock shadow. His mouth turned up in a sardonic curl. Suddenly the man, who minutes before had ministered tenderly to a young baby, seemed as dangerous as downed power lines. What was she doing here? Why was she so drawn to him?
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, firmly but not hurting her.
Goosebumps skittered up her arm. Her whole body tingled with strange sensations that she couldn’t name.
“I’m going to patent a successful invention someday,” he promised, a hard glint in his eyes. “You’ll see.”
“You have nothing to prove to me.”
“Don’t I?”
“No.” Tobie ducked her head, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze and the strumming of her pulse. “I’m nothing to you.”
His hand left her wrist and moved to her chin. With a finger, he tilted her face up to his.
Was he going to kiss her? Tobie’s heart thrummed at the prospect. Shocked, she realized how much she wanted to taste him.
His finger moved upward, gently tracing first her cheek, then her lips. Tobie waited, her breath bated. Would he kiss her?
“Too bad,” he said at last, his face so close to hers she could smell the aroma of pizza on him.
“Too bad what?” she whispered.
“Too bad you don’t consider me good enough to kiss you.” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and Tobie feared she might faint. “Imagine the connection we could make.”
He dipped his head lower until his lips hovered millimeters from hers.
“I think you’re good enough,” she denied.
“Oh?” His eyes glimmered ashy gray with emotions. “Then why don’t you kiss me?”
She looked at that mouth. How she wanted to meld with him. He waited, one hand on her chin, the other at her waist.
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m engaged to another man.”
“Are you?”
Puzzled, she shook her head. “What are you talking about? I am engaged.”
“Are you engaged to a man? Or just what he can offer you?”
“Excuse me?” Anger flared inside her.
Clay released her and stepped back, leaving Tobie feeling a dozen different things. When her cell phone rang, she scarcely noticed.
“You’ve got a call.” He nodded at her lab jacket on the sofa.
“What? Oh.” She dashed to the sofa and fumbled in the pocket of her lab jacket. She pulled out her phone and peered at the caller ID.
Edward.
“I need to take this,” she said.
Clay waved his hand. “Be my guest.”
Her phone rang again.
Clay came over and stood so near her shoulder, Tobie could feel his warm breath on the outer rim of her ear. A shiver passed through her. For one disorienting moment, Tobie forgot who was on the other end of the phone when she answered. “Yes?”
Edward’s edgy voice shook her from the stupor. “Tobie? Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Yes, Edward, I’m fine.”
“Well then, may I ask where you are? It’s seven-ten, and I’m sitting in the parking lot of the Dumas Hotel.”
“I’m so sorry, Edward, I got tied up with this house call.”
“Didn’t I warn you?”
“Yes.” Tobie sighed.
Clay reached out and touched her shoulder. Tobie jumped and shied away.
“Stay here,” he whispered. “We can reheat the pizza and watch a movie on Netflix.”
His offer tempted her more than he would ever know. Tobie shut her eyes and swallowed hard. Her skin burned feverishly hot from Clay’s touch.
“Tobie? Did you hear me? Are you still there?” Edward sounded downright peevish.
“I’m here, Edward.”
“I thought I heard a man’s voice in the background.”
“You did, Edward. That’s Mr. Barton. His little girl is sick.”
“Tell Mr. Barton you have an important engagement to keep and get over here right away. I hate lurking about in parking lots almost as much as I hate entering a gathering without an escort.”
“Yes, Edward. I’m on my way.”
“Hurry, dear. Goodbye.” He rang off before she responded. Had Edward always been so demanding?
“My little girl, huh?” Clay teased.
“Oh, hush up,” Tobie said, not in the mood to put up with him, either. Men. Give them an inch and they thought they owned you.
“Whoa!” Clay laughed and held up his palms. “Did I get you in trouble with Big Daddy?”
“Where do you get off talking to me like that?” Tobie glowered. “I came here to help you, and now you’re treating me like I’m one of your little girlfriends.”
“Hey,” Clay said, “it was your idea to bring my Stetson to me.”
“What are you suggesting?” She sank her hands onto her hips.
“Nothing. Go. Have a good time. Thanks for your help with Molly. Don’t worry about us, Dr. Avery, we’ll be fine.”
“All right,” she responded heatedly, but it wasn’t Clay she was furious at nor was it Edward. The seething emotions startled her. What did it mean? She had only herself to blame.
“Good night, Mr. Barton.” With that, she scooped up her lab jacket and stalked out of the house, wondering what in the heck was happening to her.
6
Clay wedged in her mind like a diamond in an engagement ring setting. For the past eighteen hours, she’d been unable to think of anything else but the handsome, sexy cowboy inventor who’d knocked her world out of kilter.
Tobie sat behind her desk, staring into a cup of wicked black coffee and trying to shake the fog from her brain. She hadn’t slept well.
Edward’s political dinner had passed in a blur with Tobie smiling appropriately and shaking all the right hands. Edward murmured that he’d never seen her so captivating, but while she’d dined on steak and lobster and talked with powerful AMA lobbyists, her mind had been on Clay, knowing he was eating pepperoni pizza, watching Netflix, and caring for baby Molly.
Honestly, Tobie would have given anything to be back in that simple small cabin snuggling on the sofa with Clay and Molly instead of at the stuffy, crowded ballroom locked on Edward’s arm.
When Edward kissed
her goodnight, she had a sudden flash of Clay’s lips pressed against hers. Such wild, illogical feelings frightened her. She’d known Clay for less than a day, and here she was fantasizing about him while she kissed her fiancé.
Darn it.
Tobie rotated Edward’s two-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger. They’d been engaged six months, had dated six months before that. Edward could make her dreams come true. Dreams of stability and dependability. She’d never have to go hungry or wear worn-out clothes.
But did she truly love Edward?
Tobie closed her eyes. She had tried to convince herself that she loved him. When Edward asked her to marry him, she’d been as giddy as a teenager—excited, thrilled, touched that a man of his stature wanted a woman who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.
But love?
Tobie swallowed past the lump choking off her airway. What was love, anyway? Sentimental words? Overwrought emotions? Chemistry? Her mother had been madly in love with her father, and it had led her into a life of suffering and sorrow.
Pushing back from her desk, Tobie got to her feet. She paced the floor, her arms folded around her. What to do?
If Clay hadn’t come barreling into her life with that cute child in his arms, she would not be having these doubts about Edward. She’d probably never see Clay again. She couldn’t let a momentary attraction sway her from her real goals—a medical practice, a nice home, a husband and children.
Tobie gulped and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Ah, there was the rub. Edward didn’t want children.
“Dr. Avery?” Tiffani’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Your nine o’clock appointment is here.”
“Thank you.” Tobie shook her head. Best get to work. Nothing had to be resolved this minute. She had time to think, but for now, she had patients waiting.
Tobie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, slid Edward’s ring off her finger, and dropped it into her pocket.
Yes. She had plenty of time to decide about Edward.
“Come on, Molly, quit chewing on my boot.” Clay reached over and gently pulled the top of his cowboy boot from his niece’s mouth.
