A Proposal at the Wedding

by Gina Wilkins

  “Everything okay?” she asked, automatically swaying from side to side with the baby in her arms. Kyle had discovered the chain around her neck and the butterfly charm attached to it.

  “A little girl had a run-in with broken glass.” The doctor’s eyes turned dark and intense when he looked at her holding his son.

  “Is she okay?”

  “I gave her my personal guarantee that when she’s wearing her high school cheerleader uniform, no one will ever know she had stitches in her knee when she was eight.”

  “So you’re a hero,” Sylvia said.

  “I wouldn’t say that, but if you’re passing out compliments...” He held out his arms. “Hey, buddy. Can I have a hug?”

  The baby turned away and buried his face in Emma’s shoulder. Not her fault, but not how a father away at work all day wanted to be greeted by the child he clearly adored.

  “Hey, sweetie, want to say hi to your dad?” She wouldn’t hand the boy over to his father until he was ready, or the doctor insisted.

  “That’s not like him,” Sylvia commented. “Usually he crawls up and into your arms. I think he likes Emma. Seems very comfortable with her. Just my opinion as his primary caregiver, but you should hire her.”

  “And that judgment has nothing to do with the fact that you’re about to leave me in the lurch.”

  “You’re an evil man, Dr. Flint,” Sylvia teased. “I don’t have enough mother’s guilt, so you feel the need to pile on more?”

  “Would I do that?”

  “In a heartbeat,” the older woman said good-naturedly.

  “Let’s go inside.” Dr. Flint gave no hint about whether or not he was annoyed.

  Emma followed the older woman into a big entryway with a circular table holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. Twin stairways on either side led to the second story. To the left was a large formal dining room with a dark, cherrywood table and eight matching chairs. Directly to the right was the living room with a striped sofa in rust, brown and beige. Two wing chairs in a floral print with coordinating colors were arranged in front of a raised-hearth fireplace.

  As they walked toward the back of the house, the little boy wiggled to get down. Emma set him on his tush, making sure he was stable before straightening. He crawled over to his father and pulled himself up before strong arms grabbed him and held him close.

  “Hey, I missed you today, buddy.”

  He nuzzled the boy’s neck and the child began to giggle. After a few moments, he pushed to get down and his father complied.

  “Why don’t you talk to Emma in your office,” Sylvia suggested. “I’ll take this little man to the kitchen and feed him.”

  “That would be great, Syl. Miss Robbins?”

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  She followed him down a hall off the family room into his office where there was a large, flat-topped desk and computer. Two chairs sat in front of it and he indicated she should take one. She did, and looked around as he sat in the black leather chair behind the desk.

  “This is surprisingly homey,” Emma said.

  “Why surprising?”

  In a perfect world, Emma thought, she would have kept that observation in her head. Since it was out, she had to explain.

  “I did an online search on you.”

  “So you checked me out.” One corner of his mouth lifted.

  “It’s not like you weren’t warned.”

  He didn’t look at all bothered. “And?”

  “You were the plastic surgeon to the stars. The go-to guy for new noses, lips and—” She glanced down at her chest, which suddenly felt woefully inadequate. Then she looked up and saw the amusement in his gaze. “Other things.”

  “I do more than that.”

  “So I found out. Doctors Without Borders. Trips to Central America to work on children with cleft palates. Donating your time to Heal the Children.”

  “The specialty is more than just changing parts of the body a person doesn’t like.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Most plastic surgery isn’t cosmetic. It involves reconstruction. The adjective plastic in front of surgery means sculpting.”

  “Very interesting.”

  “I correct functional impairment caused by traumatic injuries, infection or disease—cancer or tumors. Sometimes a procedure is done to approximate a normal appearance. Trauma initiates sudden change, which can cause depression, make a person question who they are.”

  Emma had questioned who she was every day since her mother’s deathbed confession about stealing her from another family when she was a baby. Plastic surgery couldn’t fix her. There was no procedure that would restore what she or her biological family had lost.

  “Is it my imagination, or did you quote all that from Wikipedia because you’re the tiniest bit defensive about public perception regarding your field of expertise?”

  “No. Maybe.” His grin was a little sheepish, a little boyish and a whole lot of sexy. “Sorry. Since moving to Blackwater Lake, I’ve been reeducating the locals who want Angelina Jolie’s lips or George Clooney’s chin.”

  “Really? Men?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “For the record, I think what you do is very impressive.” She held up her hand. “Again, not flirting or flattering. Just stating the truth as I see it.”

  He leaned back in the chair, more relaxed now. “Suddenly I feel like the one being interviewed.”

  “It was more like adding context to the information on the internet.”

  “I think that was a diplomatic way of saying that I like to talk about myself.” There was laughter in his eyes, making them sparkle. Very different from the gray intensity that reminded her of a storm.

  “You said it.” She liked that he could make fun of himself.

  “Speaking of interviews... Why are you surprised my house is homey?”

  Too much to hope he’d been distracted enough not to remember that comment. She took a deep breath. “You made a lot of money doing what you did in Beverly Hills. I just figured your home would be chrome, glass, electronic gizmos, sculptures and art that cost the equivalent of a small country’s gross national product.”

  His mouth pulled tight for a moment. “That was then, this is Montana. I wanted a change.”

  “Because of losing your wife?” Emma winced as the words came out of her mouth. She could kiss this job goodbye. If she ever faced her biological mother, one of the things she wanted to know was which side of the family to blame for this chronic foot-in-mouth problem. “Sorry. That’s none of my business. You’re supposed to be asking the questions.”

  “I am, but you touched on something important. Kyle will never know his mother, and whoever looks after him will be dealing with that issue as he gets older.”

  “Of course. You’ll want to keep her memory alive.”

  “For my son.”

  For you, too, she wanted to say, but the sadness in his eyes stopped her. Obviously it hurt to talk about the woman. He’d probably moved here because it was too painful to live in the house and city he’d shared with the wife he loved. He’d run from his own memories but wanted to make sure his son knew about his mother.

  She could relate to that. The only mother Emma had ever known wasn’t really her mother and she knew next to nothing about her real family. From her perspective, information about a parent was priceless.

  She’d brought up the topic but sensed he wanted to change it. “Your son is a charmer.”

  “He’s got me wrapped around his finger.” The shadows lifted from his face, leaving a tender expression.

  “I can see why. So good-natured.” Her cheeks grew warm remembering her own words about the boy being as handsome as the father. It was true, but she still wished to have the comment back.
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  “He seemed to take to you.” Those eyes zeroed in on her and turned darker, more observant. “Something I needed to know. Which is why I wanted to do the second interview here at the house in Kyle’s environment.”

  “I understand.”

  He nodded. “Your background check didn’t turn up anything. I talked to your previous employers, who all said I’d be crazy not to hire you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “In fact, one woman I talked to said you were personally responsible for her decision to quit her job and be a stay-at-home mother.”

  Emma remembered. “Carly Carrington. But her choice wasn’t because I didn’t do my job.”

  “She was very clear about that. It was about how much you enjoyed her baby and she was jealous. Unwilling to miss any more of her child’s life.”

  “I lost the position, but her child got the most important thing. Her mom.”

  “She told me you said that. So my decision all came down to chemistry.”

  She wasn’t worried about bonding with the baby, but it was decidedly inconvenient that she was attracted to the father. Her life was way too complicated to deal with something like that even if he was interested, which clearly he wasn’t. She should turn down this job right now, but the fact was, the doctor needed a nanny and she needed a job.

  “I get the feeling that you’ve made up your mind.”

  He nodded. “I’m told that kids have a highly reactive blarney meter and can spot a phony a mile away. Like I said, Kyle warmed to you really fast.”

  “I thought so, too. And the feeling is mutual.”

  “That was obvious, too.” He stood and walked around the desk, half sitting on the corner beside her. “So, when can you start?”

  “Right away.” It probably wouldn’t be appropriate or professional to pump her arm in triumph, so she sat demurely with her hands folded in her lap.

  “Good.” He thought for a moment. “Sylvia is going back to California in two weeks. I’d like you to work with her until she leaves. Transition Kyle.”

  “He’ll feel the change, but it will be more gradual that way,” she agreed. “I appreciate this opportunity, Dr.—”

  “Call me Justin.”

  “Okay.” It was a strong name and suited him.

  “I’ve had a short-term contract drawn up with the stipulations that we discussed in the first interview.” He took a paper from his desk. “Look it over and if you’re okay with everything, sign at the bottom, Emma.”

  It felt as if he was testing the sound of her name on his tongue, and for some reason that started tingles skipping up her spine. But she managed to read the words and signed with the pen he’d handed her.

  “Welcome aboard, Emma.”

  “Thank you.”

  She wasn’t sure that this opportunity was a sign of how to proceed with her own personal predicament, but it bought her time to figure everything out. She was very good at her job and he was lucky to get her, but that didn’t ease her conflict. After finding out she wasn’t who she’d thought, absolute truth took on a whole new meaning for her. Now she felt guilty for not confessing to Justin why she was really here in Blackwater Lake, but that wasn’t an option.

  What man in his right mind would hire a nanny whose whole life was a lie?

  Copyright © 2014 by Gina Wilkins

  ISBN-13: 9781460327401

  A PROPOSAL AT THE WEDDING

  Copyright © 2014 by Gina Wilkins

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