"What are you doing here?" he asked flatly.
Uh-oh, here it comes, she thought with dread. She braced herself for condemnation—or at the very least, criticism. "Nothing I'm not qualified to do," she said.
"I could see that," he assured her. He smiled reluctantly, and when she smiled back in surprise he realized in equal surprise that they were sharing this experience. He felt a specific feeling, almost as though a specialized nerve was shooting the message to his brain and other vital places that this woman was one he wanted to know better—much better.
It was twilight now, birds chirping in the surrounding woods as they flew home to roost. "Come out on the porch," he said persuasively, suddenly wanting her to be comfortable. "It'll be cooler there."
Concern for her patient overrode any consideration of her own comfort, and Maura sent an anxious look toward the doorway. "Annie needs to be checked every ten minutes or so."
"I know that," he said warmly. "Come on, you look exhausted." He guided her toward the door with a sure hand on her upper arm, a touch that, despite her fatigue, reawakened her senses.
Xan liked the way she walked as she preceded him out the door. Her walk was a glide, very smooth, with nothing of the coquette about it. He had never seen such magnificent hair, a complex of reds reflecting light from every strand so that its swinging weight seemed electrified in its radiance.
Two very ordinary slat-backed rocking chairs occupied the porch. "Oh, my, does it ever feel wonderful to sit down!" she exclaimed fervently as she lowered herself to one chair and he sat on the other.
"How long have you been delivering babies?" he asked.
"Several years," she said, trying to get in the habit of looking at a man in a different way from the way she always had before. Here in the twilight the color of his eyes was no longer in question. They were a deep and mossy shade of green, and at the moment they were scrutinizing her, taking everything in. His overt examination made her feel even more self-conscious.
"I guess I could take this smock off now," she said, grappling with the button and loop in back. She'd thrown it on hurriedly over the print blouse on loan from Kathleen.
Without saying a word, he stood up and, standing behind her chair, reached for the button. The move startled her, and as their fingers brushed she yanked her own hands away.
"Please don't jump like that," he heard himself saying as he pushed the button through its loop. "I only wanted to touch your hair, your splendorous hair. Unbuttoning this smock for you provides the perfect excuse." Quickly and unexpectedly he ran exploratory fingers up the back of her neck and fanned them through the strands of auburn divided on either side of the smock fastening. Then, sensing her stunned shrinking away from him, he raked his fingers downward and let the heavy tresses fall back into place.
The blush rose upward from somewhere in her stomach region, heating the skin of her chest, staining her neck. Still, she didn't say anything because she was too shocked at this touching of her person to object. No one in the past had ever reached through her invisible cloak of dignity to touch her, and most particularly not in such an overtly sexual manner!
To hide her confusion, she bent slightly forward to shrug out of the smock as Xan returned to his chair, and the motion inadvertently tugged the neckline of her blouse out of place to reveal the soft, smooth swell of the top of her breasts swinging unfettered beneath the thin fabric.
It was the glimpse of that womanly part of her that did him in. Xan knew in that moment that he wanted to ensure that there would be other meetings in other places more conducive to—well, what? He had been about to think the word love, but love wasn't something he ever thought about. Women, yes. Lust, yes. After all, he was thirty-eight years old, and no one expected an eligible bachelor to be a saint. But love?
Xan made it a policy never to date his patients. He wasn't sure, since Maura ran away before he'd actually examined her, if she could be considered a patient. "Why did you run away this afternoon?" he asked.
She could never tell him that. Not in a million years. "Because I changed my mind," she retorted, willing the blush to fade.
"Something wrong with my office staff? Something about me that offended you?" His voice was gruff, and his eyes burned into her as though they could see the very corners of her soul.
"I—had another appointment," she said weakly.
"There must have been more to it than that. Since you're a midwife yourself, I can hardly imagine that you would be squeamish about the physical part of the examination."
"No, of course not," she said. "I had another appointment. Can't we let it go at that?"
He paused to think about it. "For the time being, I suppose we can," he said, relenting out of kindness. She appeared shaken. He looked at her, reappraising her. He'd thought she was sensible, and he still thought so. But there was a vulnerability in her gentle, soft eyes. He liked the way her magnificently high and elegantly constructed cheekbones curved precisely into long planes ending in a strong jaw and squared-off chin. Despite the vulnerability, it was altogether a face of strong character. She must have a good reason for being evasive.
"Well, then," Xan said lightly, "let's talk about something else."
"Must we talk?" she said, her voice trembling even though she fought to control it. "I'm exhausted."
"You're all wrought up from the emotion in there," he said, gesturing toward the door of the cabin. "Talking will help coast you down from that high you're on."
"So you know about that," she said, surprised.
"Of course. I feel it myself. Often after a difficult delivery I go home so revved up I can't sleep. It's then that I wish there was someone to talk to so I could wind down."
"You have no one?"
"I live alone," he said, and the conversation paused for several beats while she took in the significance of this statement. Then he said more quietly, his voice low, "How did you happen to be here when Annie needed you?"
"The question I have is, how did you happen not to be here when she needed you? She's your patient." Maura met his eyes with a boldness that he would not have expected from her. Nor would she have expected it from herself a few short months ago. But now such audacity was emerging as part of her character.
She had put him on the defensive, but he respected her for it. In fact he would have had the same question if their places had been reversed.
Quickly he told her how Cindy had called just before he'd had to report to the hospital and how he hadn't seen Annie Bodkin since the first two times she'd visited him for prenatal care. "Really," he told her, "I'm glad you were here."
His eyes shone with sincerity, and Maura was astonished. She'd expected him to be jealous of her competence or, at the very least, overly defensive.
"I wouldn't have been here either if my minivan hadn't broken down," said Maura.
Xan recalled that when he'd been looking for the Bodkins' house, he'd been curious about the scabrous vehicle with its splayed and worn tires. He'd thought it looked out of place parked on the lonely stretch of road. "Is your car the minivan next to the Shuffletown highway with Pringle's Florists—We Deliver on its side?"
Maura laughed, easing up a bit. "That's right. I've only had it for a couple of months. I'm going to paint over the Pringle's Florists part, but I thought I'd leave on the We Deliver."
"You're so right—it is appropriate," he said, and they laughed together. It made him happy to see her relaxing and letting go.
When they'd stopped laughing and the silence grew up around them, he said carefully, "Sounds as though you're stuck here with no way to get home."
"I guess so. Just one thing—do we consider Annie your patient or mine?" There was a hint of trepidation in her voice.
"Ours," he said immediately. "Hey, don't you understand I'm not going to make trouble for you? You did a fine job. Why don't you continue to care for Annie and her baby if it will make you happy?"
Maura suddenly saw clearly that she was going to ha
ve to revise her opinion of Dr. Copeland's lackadaisical attitude. It was plain to see that Xan Copeland was a warm, caring physician, as dedicated as they come. Never mind the machismo, never mind the overwhelming sensuality. Underneath the perfect packaging, he was exactly the kind of doctor she would choose to supervise her practice. Ah, but if only he would!
How could she work around to that question? And even if he would, did she want him to? It would mean close contact with him from time to time, and she wasn't sure she could handle that.
But first things first. "If I'm going to continue to care for Annie and the baby, I won't be able to leave for a while," she said. "I'll need to watch them for a couple of hours to make sure everything's okay with both of them. In fact," she said, "I'd better look in on them now and take Annie a cup of that tea I brewed. Would you care for some?"
Xan would have rather had a cold beer, but looking straight into Maura's level brown eyes—and he hadn't seen too many brown-eyed redheads in his time—he surprised himself by saying, "Sure."
After she took Annie the tea, Maura poured a cup for herself and one for Xan. "I had to sweeten the tea with sugar because that's all there is," she apologized as she handed him the cup. "I would have preferred honey."
"Oh? Are you one of these health-food freaks, into alfalfa sprouts and things like that?"
"Do you have something against alfalfa sprouts?"
"Only that I can't eat them without getting them caught between my teeth," he said.
She stared at him, deflected from her defensive stance by his humor. Then she started to laugh. "Well, try the tea. It's a special herbal blend and very relaxing."
"If I relax any more, I may fall out of this rocking chair," he said.
"In California, we'd call you laid-back," said Maura before realizing that she'd revealed too much.
"In South Carolina, it's called lazy," Xan shot back. "Anyway, is that where you're from? California?"
"Yes," she said in a tone that precluded any further inquiry about her past. She stood so abruptly that the rocking chair tipped forward and smacked her against the back of her knees. In obvious agitation, she walked to the end of the porch and stared out into the dark woods.
Xan sipped the tea slowly. So she was from California, and she didn't want to talk about it, he thought. Interesting.
"I've been thinking," he said carefully. "I can check your car for you, see what's wrong. Maybe I can get it running again."
She turned toward him quickly, relieved at the change of subject almost as much as at his suggestion that he investigate the minivan's mechanical problem. "Would you? I—I don't understand much about automobiles, and I'd be so grateful."
"Be glad to." He stood and set the cup of tea on a window ledge. Tension hung in the air between them. It had started when she mentioned California and then had immediately become so skittish.
"Here, you'll need my keys," she said, fishing them out of her skirt pocket. She handed him her key ring.
"I'll check it out and see what I can do for you," he said before wheeling and stepping off the porch without using the stairs.
In a moment, his motorcycle sputtered to life. Xan switched on the headlight, throwing a strong bright beam against the trees at the edge of the clearing. Then with a jaunty wave he was gone, a rooster tail of dust spurting out behind him.
Good, Maura thought to herself. She'd wondered how she was going to get her car repaired.
Maura sat back down and wearily rested her head against the high back. Why had she said anything about California? That part of her life was over. She'd hopped in the minivan and set out blindly for the farthest sanctuary she knew, and she'd ended up here in South Carolina with Kathleen and Scott.
Speaking of the minivan, she'd be lost without it. She hoped Xan could muster enough mechanical expertise to find and repair whatever was wrong with the motor.
* * *
Accelerating the Harley down the overgrown path toward the highway, Xan also wondered what was wrong with Maura's minivan. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It didn't matter what was wrong. He was going to make absolutely sure that she didn't leave this place in it.
In fact Maura would have been amazed to know that Xan had already decided that the only satisfactory mode of transportation for her tonight was his motorcycle, where she would ride behind him, her ample breasts pressed to his back, her long, tanned arms wrapped securely around his waist.
Chapter 3
While Xan was gone, Maura washed herself, dipping her hands over and over into the sink. She splashed the water slowly over her face, her arms, her breasts, considering how it felt. She was used to washing her patients, but for herself this task had always been accomplished in the shortest possible time with absolutely no consideration of it as an exercise in creature comfort.
The water trickled in cool rivulets down the sides of her face, gathered in the hollows above her shoulder blades, ran slickly between her breasts, hung in heavy droplets from the pink tips of her nipples. The crude towel with which she patted herself dry was stiff until the water softened it. But noticing the textures that touched her body was new to her, and it felt good to cool off.
She did her best to keep Annie and the baby comfortable, and she taught Cindy a new variation of cat's cradle in order to pass the time. It seemed like forever before Xan returned. As soon as she heard the motorcycle thundering down the dirt road toward Annie's shack, Maura stopped folding clean cloths for the baby and hurried to the front door.
"I've called a friend to tow your car to his garage," Xan told Maura when she stepped anxiously out on the porch, closing the screen door quietly behind her. "I don't have any idea what's wrong with it." This statement was accompanied by a shrug of his broad shoulders. His face, upturned toward her, picked up a glow from the dim light of the lamp inside.
"Well, then," she said, her expression decidedly woebegone, "I suppose the next problem is getting home." Her sister and brother-in-law were out for the evening, or she would have called them.
"Where do you live?"
"I'm staying on Teoway Island."
For a moment satisfaction flickered in his eyes. This was better than he'd hoped. "I live on the island," he told her. "I'll be glad to give you a lift. That is, if you don't mind riding on the back of my motorcycle."
At this point, it felt good to let someone else take over. "I don't mind," she said. She'd be grateful for the lift.
"How's Annie?" he asked quickly, as though it really mattered. By this time he had stepped up and joined her on the creaky front porch, placing himself only an arm's length away. Other than their voices, the only sound was that of crickets chirping in the bushes.
"Annie's doing beautifully, and so is the baby. I could leave now, I suppose."
"Why don't you get your things and say goodbye to everyone, and we'll get on the road? You look like you've had one very hard day."
She nodded, too tired to do anything else. As she stepped inside the cabin, she caught a glimpse of herself in a cracked mirror hanging beside the door. She looked worn to a frazzle. Her back ached, her shoulders felt bunched into knots, and at the moment she longed for nothing so much as a decent meal followed by a leisurely bath in the sunken tub at Kathleen's beautiful, well-appointed and expensive house overlooking the Teoway marshes.
Annie and Cindy and the baby were quickly settled for the night, and after a whispered goodbye to Annie and a promise to check on her again soon, Maura rejoined Xan on the front porch.
The air was cool, thank goodness, now that darkness had dropped over the countryside. It was a clear night, the air moist but not muggy, and the stars overhead shone with a clarity unmasked by clouds. There was a moon, too, a great golden globe hanging so close that Maura felt all she had to do was reach up to touch it.
Xan slid a proprietary arm around her shoulders and divested her of her medical bag containing her midwife's kit. He handed her carefully down the steps as though she or the stairs might break
. At this point, Maura felt flimsier than the stairs.
"Have you ever ridden on a motorcycle before?" he asked her with a grin. As he packed her bag into one of his commodious saddlebags, he looked sideways up at her. The moonlight gilded his face and reflected twin moons from the dark pupils of his eyes.
She was momentarily caught up in the magic of the moons. Then she smiled, thinking that if Xan Copeland knew anything about her previous life, he'd find this a ridiculous question. "No, never," she said, wishing she could tell him how funny this situation was to her.
"Here. Put on this helmet." He held it toward her. It was gold, with sparkly flecks in it. They shimmered in the moonlight.
Hesitantly she pulled the helmet over her head and tried to fasten the chin strap.
"That's not the way to do it," he chided, bending forward to snap it properly as he would a child's. She was tall, over five foot seven, and he still had to bend over. She wondered how tall he was. Six one? Six two?
He knit his brows, fascinated by the effect of Maura's wearing a motorcycle helmet. She looked fantastic, even with smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. A shock of auburn hair fell over her forehead and the rest hung from beneath the helmet in a soft and beguiling fringe.
"Now hop on," he told her as he held the bike.
"You mean just—"
"Sure." He smiled encouragingly. It occurred to her that when they were riding, she'd have nothing to hold on to except him. This whole scene seemed as though it belonged to someone else's life, not hers. But she gamely hitched her skirt above her knees and swung a leg over the bike.
He got on, too, and before she could change her mind, they were wheeling around the clearing, the roar of the engine rending the night. Her hair whipped out behind her, free as air. The wind danced on her face, and she felt as though she were flying. She surprised herself by laughing out loud, when just a few minutes ago she had felt so drained of energy that she never would have thought she'd be laughing.
Cherished Beginnings Page 3
