“We’re going to regret this,” she murmured as he lifted her onto the counter, knocking his and her paraphernalia into the sink.
“We’ll regret it more if we stop.”
Did he have to be so logical? And so right? “Okay,” she said.
He explored her, lifting his head from time to time to observe her reactions. Bailey glimpsed their movements in the side mirror—he had a far better view, of course—but mostly she got lost in the sensations. He was so big, in more ways than one. Tantalizing her, taking his time. Kissing her again and again, expertly parting her and thrusting himself inside her.
She’d never experienced such utter radiant bliss. Right from the start, too. How much better could it get?
To her amazement, she found out. The man moved with grace, never hurrying, instinctively caressing the right places to arouse waves of delight, and then pulling out for a cool moment before starting again. Best of all was the expression of wonder on his face, as if he, too, was reaching a new level.
I could love this man. I might love him already. How utterly strange to be discovering this while pregnant with another man’s children, Bailey thought. Yet as Owen merged with her for the third or maybe the fourth time, it felt as if they were making the babies all over again.
She noticed a change in Owen’s expression: thrilled disbelief, and then a wild loss of control as he pushed into her harder. She transformed, fusing with him, and his mounting ecstasy and explosion of joy became hers, too.
They rocked there, holding each other, Bailey nearly sliding off the counter and Owen making deep moaning noises that vibrated like music. For a long while, the world stood still.
At last he eased back. “What do you say we dispense with clothing for the spa?”
The walls around the yard were high, not to mention the thick shrubbery. “Sounds like a plan,” Bailey said as he carefully lifted her down.
They soaked in the warm water, blissfully naked, then went inside and made love again in Owen’s big bed. Afterward, curled against him with her bulge tucked against his hip, Bailey drifted in a happy haze.
Maybe it couldn’t last. But it might for a while.
AT 2:27 A.M. BY THE BEDSIDE clock, the rumble of delivery trucks woke Owen. He’d forgotten his earplugs.
The racket failed to stir Bailey, thanks no doubt to maternal hormones. She’d rolled over, facing away, her hair tangled across the pillow.
Owen lay on his back, trying to understand why he didn’t have the awkward sense of displacement he usually got when he awoke beside a woman. Not that he ever picked up strangers. His affairs had been carefully chosen, with women he knew well enough to be certain there’d be no misplaced expectations.
Always, there was a constraint, like when he sat in front of the cameras and had to remember to keep his shoulders straight, his gaze forward and his language clear. In the morning, he would be careful with the lady. Carefully polite, cautious not to make assumptions, and ready to escape as soon as he could diplomatically do so.
He had no idea what to expect with Bailey. She might kick him out of bed in the morning, even though it was his bed, or she might race him to the shower. As for escaping, he wished he didn’t have surgeries scheduled starting at 9:00 a.m. They’d brought home an extra waffle, and he wanted to enjoy it with her, slowly.
And with the babies. Yesterday…the ultrasound…his and her children. Those silly little people already loved the same music their parents did.
Their parents. What a powerful connection he’d forged with those babies. Boone hadn’t seen them, hadn’t shown any interest in the pregnancy as far as Owen could tell. The idiot acted as if he couldn’t care less.
When the man returned from wherever he’d gone, Owen needed to have a straight talk with him. Declare your intentions. Old-fashioned, but appropriate.
If his brother wasn’t prepared to love these children, then it would be time to tell Bailey the truth, and let the chips fall where they may.
BAILEY AWOKE TO THE SOUND of a phone ringing. Two phones, one close by and the other in the next room. She recognized the nearby ring tone as Owen’s, while from afar came the pop tune she’d reserved for her sister’s calls.
“Yes?” said Owen’s deep voice, right beside her. “Cancelled? When’s the second one? Right. I’ll see you then. Thanks, Erica.”
Bailey sat up. Her phone had gone silent. Why was Phyllis calling at…she checked the clock—7:29 a.m. on a Saturday?
“Good news,” Owen reported. “My first patient got pregnant and won’t need surgery. That doesn’t explain why she failed to tell anybody until late last night, but we can fight over our waffle in peace. How about if I cut it, seeing as I’m such a fine surgeon, and you get first choice of halves?”
“It’s too early in the morning for logic,” Bailey grumbled. Who would have imagined that the tyrant of the operating room awoke in a cheery mood? Of course, some men were that way after they had sock-flinging sex. Make that robe-flinging sex. “I have to go find out what Phyllis wants.”
“Be my guest.”
She stumbled out of bed, poked around for her slippers before remembering she hadn’t brought them in, and padded through the bathroom, which was the shortest route to her purse. At some point, they’d straightened the counter, but the image of the two of them going at it must be permanently etched into the mirror, likely to reappear outlined in steam the next time anyone took a shower.
Bailey dug out the phone. Pressing a button, she sat on a chair to wait. Honestly, that futon was way too low down. She might have to sleep in Owen’s bed for the duration.
She waited for the call to connect. It did, then rang repeatedly.
Phyllis had called only minutes before. Why wasn’t she answering?
Just as Bailey expected the call to go to voice mail, she heard her sister, but she seemed to be addressing someone else. “Thank you. This is important! I really appreciate… Bailey?”
“What’s going on?”
“You have to help me!” Phyllis sounded in panic mode. “The police have this all wrong.”
The police? “Have what all wrong?”
“They came busting in at some unearthly hour and dragged me out of bed. They won’t tell me anything except I’m being booked for fraud.” In the background, Bailey heard an ominous clang, like something out of a prison movie. “I heard somebody mention money being moved around, that that’s why they had to take me in, and somebody else told him to put a lid on it. You have to bail me out! And get a lawyer.”
Phyllis had been arrested. “Where are you?” Bailey asked.
“The Safe Harbor police department. They have this little jail here and I for sure don’t want to be dragged down to the county lockup. I need help now.”
Behind Bailey, Owen had come into the room, wearing a short silk robe. She struggled to figure out what to do. “How much is bail?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
“What!” Bailey couldn’t believe it. “I wouldn’t know where to find that kind of money. Or even a tenth of it.” She’d read an article once about bail bondsmen, and had the impression you paid them ten percent of the money they put up for bail. And while most bail got returned once the person showed up for court, that ten percent was gone forever.
“Just do it!” Phyllis was crying, and angry, too, but not at Bailey, she could tell.
Owen leaned in the doorway. “Tell me,” he said.
Her first thought was to close ranks, that this was a family matter. But he was family. “I’ll see what I can do,” she told her sister. “Don’t freak out.”
“I’m counting on you!”
“I know. See you soon.” Bailey clicked off.
Owen folded his arms. “Well?”
“She’s been arrested.” Bailey filled in as much as she’d learned. “What do I do?”
“We get a lawyer and have bail reduced.” Owen took his own phone from his pocket. “I’ll ask the hospital attorney for a recommenda
tion.”
“Oh! That’s a good idea.” She’d forgotten all about Tony Franco. He handled the hospital’s affairs but was also Nora’s brother-in-law.
Owen paused with the cell in his hand. “What about Boone? Was he arrested, too?”
“I…I forgot to ask. But I don’t think so. She didn’t mention him.” With a sinking feeling, Bailey remembered Owen saying that he didn’t trust his brother. And judging by his scowl, these events didn’t surprise him nearly as much as she would have expected.
Fraud, Phyllis had said. Which meant Bailey’s savings might be gone, stolen by the people she’d trusted most.
Stolen by a man whose babies were wriggling inside her right this very minute.
Chapter Thirteen
Owen had never seen Bailey so distraught. Thank goodness he was here, he thought as he reached Tony at home, then put in a call to the recommended attorney, a fellow named Joseph Noriega. To the man’s credit, he didn’t hesitate to jump in to the case on a Saturday morning and promised to call back after checking into the situation.
“I need to go down and get Phyllis out,” Bailey said for the umpteenth time. She’d been pacing through the house in anguish, barely taking time to shower, dress and down a bite of breakfast.
“You can’t get her out until the lawyer arranges bail,” Owen explained, also for the umpteenth time.
“A hundred thousand dollars! They have to reduce it.” Her face had gone pale. “They can’t consider her a flight risk, can they?”
“If Boone’s left the country, they’ll assume she might join him.” Owen had learned that much during his brief conversation with the attorney.
Bailey plopped onto the living room couch, her reddish-brown hair curling wildly around her face. Why did this have to happen on our first real morning together? Owen grumbled inwardly. But he knew why, sort of.
Bailey’s next words pricked his conscience. “I don’t understand their rush. Whatever’s happened, I’m sure Phyllis and Boone intend to make good on the investments if they possibly can.”
Owen sat beside her. Time to reveal at least one of his secrets. “I’m afraid this is partly my…doing.” He’d nearly said “fault,” but the fault lay with Boone, not him.
“What do you mean?”
“Boone’s father was a con man, and I thought I recognized the signs of someone preparing a swindle. Maybe I overreacted, but I felt a responsibility to those senior citizen investors.” And to you, Owen nearly added, but he didn’t want to lay any of the blame on Bailey. “I discussed my concerns with a fraud investigator at the police department.”
“When?” Her eyes shone a luminous green in the morning light.
He couldn’t read anything into her response. Not anger, not resentment, but not forgiveness, either. “About a week and a half ago.”
She let out a long breath. “That’s a relief.”
“Why?” he asked in astonishment.
She peered at him guiltily. “Because a couple of weeks ago I said a few things to Nora and I’m sure she told Leo. I was afraid this was all my doing. But it was both of us.”
Financial investigations didn’t happen overnight, Owen suspected. “They’ve probably been looking into this for quite a while. Long before you or I—” His phone rang. “That might be the lawyer.”
It was. Noriega had accomplished a remarkable amount in a few hours, as it turned out.
“I can’t get bail reduced. There’s too great a risk she’ll skip the country.”
“Why?” Owen asked.
“Apparently Mr. Storey’s actions triggered the arrest—something to do with trying to move accounts the police have been monitoring,” the lawyer explained.
Monitoring. That supported Owen’s belief that this investigation hadn’t just started in the past few weeks. “Move them where?”
“Offshore,” the man said. “So his wife is definitely a risk to leave the country and join him overseas. However, as bail, the court will accept a lien against the couple’s half ownership in that house you mentioned.”
Great. Owen could end up co-owning this place with the state of California. However, since the attorney had explained that bail money had to be demonstrably clean—not illegally obtained—he saw no reasonable alternative. “If that’s what Mrs. Storey wants to do, it’s fine with me,” he said.
“I’ll confirm it with her and make the arrangements,” Noriega said.
“I’m due in surgery, but Mrs. Storey’s sister can meet you at the jail.” Owen glanced at Bailey, who nodded.
As he filled her in on the latest news, he watched her turn even paler than before. “Boone’s moving accounts offshore? He really is a con man. You were right.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Hearing his own words, Owen shook his head. “But yes, I believe he is. It’s better if we face facts.”
“Not Phyllis!” Bailey flared. “She’d never cheat people.”
From what he’d seen of his sister-in-law, Owen tended to agree. “Perhaps not. But she chose to believe what was in her own self-interest.”
“She trusted the man she loved!” No question about where Bailey’s loyalties lay.
“Granted.” Owen didn’t want to argue. “Bailey…you may have some hard decisions to make as a result of all this.”
“Hard decisions?” Her forehead puckered obstinately. “I’m standing by my sister. What’s hard about that?”
It was the wrong time to tell her about the babies’ paternity. Besides, she hadn’t entered this pregnancy with the intention of raising two children herself, any more than Owen had. “Nothing, for the moment. I’ll be in touch with you later. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks. You’ve been great about all this.” Bailey let him help her to her feet, a not-so-simple task. “This isn’t exactly your problem, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“For a change?” he teased.
She slid her arms around his waist and Owen pulled her close, pressing his cheek into her hair. “For…however long you’re around,” he thought he heard her say, but the words were muffled.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her. “Except to surgery.”
“Right.” Stepping back, she gave him a little salute. “Go help make some woman’s dreams come true, Doc.”
All the way to the hospital, he carried that image of Bailey standing in the living room, a small, brave figure prepared to do battle with whatever forces were arrayed against her family.
A family of which he was a part. Whether she truly accepted that or not.
FORTUNATELY, PHYLLIS’S NAME turned out to be on the house’s title papers along with her husband’s, and by midday the attorney got her released. Bailey was waiting with a hug and a ride back to the rented mansion by the harbor.
“I don’t understand why I haven’t heard from Boone.” Phyllis had reverted to a childhood habit of chewing her lips. “I sent emails and texts, but you know how things are when you travel. Sometimes stuff doesn’t get through.”
Much as Bailey wished she could go along with her sister’s excuses, she couldn’t. “Email works fine overseas,” she said. “When’s the last time you heard from him?”
“A few days.” In the passenger seat, Phyllis twisted a strand of blond hair.
“Where is he?” Bailey halted at a red light.
“He told me he was going to New Zealand, but Mr. Noriega says he’s supposedly on some Caribbean island. Something about having a bank account there, but I didn’t know anything about that. He’d have told me.” Phyllis spoke fast, chattering in her nervousness.
“It’s not one of those islands like in the movies where people keep secret bank accounts to launder stolen money, is it?” Bailey blurted.
Her sister shot her a sharp look. “That’s Switzerland. And Boone wouldn’t do such a thing. This is all a misunderstanding.”
“Owen says…” Bailey broke off. It wasn’t right to repeat hurtful gossip.
“Owen say
s what?” Phyllis demanded.
“Just…” She might as well finish what she’d started. “That Boone’s father was a con artist. That he used to scam people.”
“Owen’s turning on his own brother?” Phyllis folded her arms furiously. “Exactly what I’d expect from Dr. Hoity-Toity. He thinks he’s better than everyone else.”
“He does not!” Okay, fair was fair. “Much.”
“When exactly did he share this ugly nonsense about Boone’s father with you, anyway?” Phyllis asked. “You two have gotten awfully chummy.”
“Someone arranged for us to live together,” Bailey pointed out.
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“There seem to be a lot of misunderstandings going around.” Bailey hadn’t meant to be hard on her sister, especially under the circumstances, but she couldn’t help it. “Phyllis, I invested my lifesavings with you guys.”
“And you’ll get them back, with a big profit, if the cops don’t close us down prematurely!”
“Are you certain of that?”
The question hung in the air. Phyllis’s mouth worked a few times before she said, “I can’t believe it. My own sister is against me.”
“I am not!” Bailey said.
“That didn’t sound like loyalty to me!”
Bailey’s gut tightened. They hadn’t had much, growing up—a series of stepfathers and their mother’s live-in boyfriends, one rundown apartment after another, an ever-changing panorama of schools, teachers and casual friends, at least until high school. As a result, she, Phyllis and their mother had formed a tight triangle. Loyalty had meant everything. And after their mother’s death from a stroke five years ago, that had left the pair of them.
Until Boone came along. Of course, Bailey had accepted and supported her sister’s marriage. But Owen was right. The guy didn’t deserve their trust. Police weren’t fools. They hadn’t jumped into this investigation on a whim.
The Surgeon's Surprise Twins Page 12
