The Baby Doctor's Bride

by Jessica Matthews

  “You didn’t need to, but thanks. I didn’t have time to whip anything together, so now we won’t have to go for ice cream.”

  Ethan followed her through the house to the kitchen and dining area, aware of the way her yellow-striped sundress accentuated her curves, clung to her hips, swirled around her long legs, and revealed miles of skin across her shoulders and arms. He swallowed hard, and shifted his weight to ease the sudden strain in his trousers.

  She bent at the waist to slip the pie into the refrigerator. “What do you think of my place?”

  His attention remained riveted on his hostess’s graceful movements and lithe form. “It’s nice,” he said inanely.

  “Nice?” She straightened, then faced him. “It’s sweet of you to say so, but either you have absolutely no fashion sense or you’re one of those guys who doesn’t notice his surroundings.”

  She was wrong on both counts. While he couldn’t claim to be an interior decorator, he watched enough home-improvement television shows these days to know what was pleasing to the eye. At this particular moment, though, the room had faded into black-and-white insignificance, while the woman in front of him stood out in vibrant, living color.

  “So be honest,” she continued. “The furnishings and appliances are outdated, and the decor is awful, but I’ll change all that when I have the money, time and energy.”

  He tore his gaze from what he considered the one bright spot and took a minute to glance around the seventies-style kitchen, with its old-fashioned cabinets, worn countertop, and flooring that should have been replaced a decade ago. “You have a lot of work ahead.”

  “What an understatement. But I fell in love with the floor plan. The house as a whole is sound, which made it easier for me to decide to tackle the cosmetic issues myself. I redecorated the bedroom before I moved in, though, because the orange wallpaper and shag carpeting was more than I could handle,” she admitted. “Dad and I painted it a cool mint-green, and we replaced the carpeting with a fake hardwood floor and an area rug. I’ll take on the living room when Walt gets back and I have more time.”

  He had the sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t gain the extra hours she thought she would. While some of Walt’s patients would return to his practice, Ethan imagined most of the parents would prefer to have a younger, more up-to-date specialist overseeing their children’s care instead of an elderly GP.

  “Have you heard from him?” he asked.

  “No, but I don’t expect to. He checks in with Jed now and then, and Jed keeps me posted.”

  “What if he doesn’t come back?” he asked tentatively.

  “Danton is his home,” she said simply. “He’ll be back. Although, between you and me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to slow down and only work a few days a week. If that happens, I’ll be in trouble,” she finished ruefully. “Unless, of course, I can interest you in sticking around for the next twenty or thirty years?”

  She looked positively hopeful, and he hated to dash those hopes but he didn’t have a choice. He might be currently functioning all right on his limited medical practice, but he wasn’t ready to put himself to the test and risk failure. He was a man without a future, and because of it he had to go just as she had to stay. “Sorry. Three weeks is my limit.”

  “If you change your mind, my offer is still open,” she said. “But enough shop talk. Are you ready for dinner?”

  Aware of how his stomach was gnawing at his backbone, he smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “In that case, would you like to sit out here, and take in the view of my weeds, or enjoy the ambience of my ancient and color-challenged kitchen?”

  Ivy’s presence provided all the ambience he needed. “I’ll help you,” he said, rising to follow her inside. “I’m relatively handy with a knife.”

  “That’s nice to know, but I diced and sliced my ingredients earlier this afternoon.”

  He eyed her as she retrieved bowls of vegetables from the refrigerator. “Instead of napping, I suppose?”

  “Actually, no. I came home at three, when you all but shoved me out of the door.” She grinned as if to soften her complaint. “I slept for about an hour and half, and then got started. Thank goodness you thought of dessert because I didn’t have time. I can’t wait to have a slice.”

  “Maybe we should eat it first. Life is short, you know.”

  “Vegetables before sweets in my house,” she said. “That’s the rule my dad enforced, and the one my kids will live by, too.”

  A mental picture of a little girl wearing her mother’s magical smile appeared. “Already planning a few offspring, are you?” he asked.

  “Someday,” she said. “When the right man comes along. Pass the peanut oil, please?”

  As she began to heat her wok, Ethan warned himself not to ask. But curiosity drove him. “And what’s your idea of the right man?”

  She dumped the sliced beef into the hot oil with a sizzle. “I don’t know. I haven’t really given him specific traits.”

  “Give it a try. Professional or blue-collar?”

  She paused, her wooden spoon poised in mid-air. “It doesn’t matter, as long as he enjoys what he’s doing and understands the demands of my own career. I imagine him as being solid, dependable, selfless—someone I can lean on when I need to. He’ll have to like living in Danton, and he has to fit into the community. Other than that, I really don’t have any other expectations.”

  “None whatsoever?” he asked.

  “He also has to curl my toes from time to time,” she said with a smile. “As well as have the patience of a saint, because I’m the teensiest bit strong-willed.”

  Thinking of how she’d taken the initiative to ask a perfect stranger for help, he had to agree. But, strong-willed or not, whoever her future Mr. Right was, he would have to be a regular paragon. “You aren’t asking for much, are you?” he asked facetiously.

  “Hey, it’s my dream fellow. I can make him as perfect as I want. What about you? What sort of woman are you looking for?”

  He thought about Tiffany. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

  “Oh, come now. Men are always looking. You must have a few specifications in mind.”

  He shrugged, although his thoughts immediately turned in that direction. He had a few essential characteristics, but none he could share without divulging his past. The ability to forgive headed his list, but if he couldn’t forgive himself he couldn’t expect the woman in his life to do the same.

  “Not really,” he said, watching her stir the meat before adding the vegetables. “One can’t settle down with a wife when drifting from place to place.”

  “I suppose not. Do you think you ever will? Settle in one place?”

  “I like to think I will,” he said, once again noncommittal. “Someday. When it’s time.” Then, to stave off any difficult questions she might pose, because he sensed they hung on the tip of her tongue, he asked, “Why did you decide to set up your practice here?”

  “People needed me,” she said simply. “I already knew Dr. Walt had more than he could handle. And everyone in town was always so supportive when I talked about becoming a doctor that I never considered going anyplace else.”

  “You’re fortunate,” he said. “In fact, I envy you having a place to come home to and knowing where you belong.”

  “Home is where you make it,” she said softly.

  How well he knew that. He’d tried to establish one in St. Louis, but had failed. “I’m one of those people who’re inherently unable to develop long-lasting roots,” he said lightly.

  “I don’t believe that.” Her voice was firm. “As a person who knows how difficult it is to encourage plants to grow, I think you just haven’t achieved the right mix of raw ingredients.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that I just need a soul mate beside me?”

  She shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt, could it? If you add living in a community as perfect as Danton,” she grinned, “who knows
what you could do?”

  Who knew, indeed? For an instant he was tempted to spill his story and explain she was wrong, but he couldn’t. It had been so long since someone had trusted him, and he didn’t want to watch that faith fade once Ivy knew the truth. It was easy to suggest the fault for not having a place to call home rested on the whims of fate—not meeting the right woman, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time—but he couldn’t place the blame on any of those scenarios.

  His problem lay within himself, and it always would until he escaped his past.

  Ivy had a hunch that Ethan had been close to divulging a few of his secrets, but just as she’d thought she was about to punch through his defenses another layer had slammed into place.

  For the rest of the evening their discussion centered on topics that were personal, but not too personal. She learned his preference in music depended on his mood, that he loved Italian dishes, played a decent but unremarkable round of golf, and gravitated toward Civil War history books. He kept abreast of politics, championed the underdog in sports, and was happy with his own company on most occasions.

  By the end of the evening, when they were sitting on the deck and watching the sun set behind the row of thirty-year-old oak trees, she felt as if she knew what made him tick. At least she knew to a point, because no matter what he divulged she sensed there was a line in their conversation that he wouldn’t cross.

  A wise woman would allow a man his secrets, but his, she decided, were the destructive sort. Until he faced whatever had sent him fleeing St. Louis in the first place, he’d always be running.

  Tonight, however, wasn’t a night for unpleasant subjects. The gentle hush that slowly descended with the darkness, and the soothing sound of nature and the sweet scent of lilac hanging on the warm breeze only heightened her awareness of the man seated in the lounge chair beside hers.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “It’ll only take a minute to perk.”

  “No, thanks. It’s getting late and I should be going. I have a colleague who stays up half the night, so one of us needs to be alert tomorrow.”

  She chuckled. “I’m crossing my fingers for a peaceful shift.”

  “I hope it works. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s been quiet this long.”

  “I’m not. It’s usually after midnight when parents decide their child can’t wait until morning to be seen,” she said wryly. “I’m safe for several more hours.”

  “In that case I’d better leave so you have time to yourself.” He rose.

  “I suppose,” she said, reluctantly rising as his logic warred with her wishes.

  He grabbed her hand. “Thanks again for dinner. It was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He stroked her fingers, then pulled her close in order to hold her palm against his chest. “I haven’t had an evening like this for quite some time.” His voice was husky.

  Her own breath caught in her throat. “Same for me. I—”

  She didn’t finish her sentence. In fact, as soon as his lips touched hers she forgot what she’d intended to say. Caught up in the moment, she stood on tiptoe and slipped her arms around his neck.

  “I’ve wanted to do this ever since I tasted you last night,” he murmured against her mouth. “I could hardly sleep, thinking about what it would be like.”

  “Now you don’t have to think,” she answered breathlessly. “You’ll know.”

  Her words seemed to break through his hesitation. He moved his hands from her waist to her spine, and pressed her close as he deepened his kiss.

  Instantly she felt the proof of his attraction—the proof that this wasn’t a platonic response but one that signaled he wanted her. She’d never been the type to take the physical side of a relationship lightly, but somehow, even though she’d known him less than a week, it seemed as if she’d known him forever.

  His tongue teased her mouth before slipping inside her parted lips. His exploration was foreign, and yet natural. Overwhelmed by the sensations he was creating, she felt her knees wobble and her toes curl in her sandals.

  This was perfect. He was perfect.

  Caught up in his embrace, it took her a minute to realize his gentle assault had stopped. Another minute later he withdrew a fraction of a step, so that the night air could swirl between their bodies.

  “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “If circumstances were different…”

  Instinctively she knew he referred to his personal life in general, not the current moment, when she was on call and neighbors would notice if his vehicle remained in her driveway past an acceptable hour. “Tell me about them,” she said softly. “Maybe I can help.”

  He stroked the side of her face. “This is my journey, not yours.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “Whatever is bothering you—”

  “Is my problem to solve. But if there was someone I wanted to talk to, it would be you.” He dropped his hand, and his voice switched from a soft, tender tone to a harsher, more abrupt note. “Thanks again for a great evening.”

  “My pleasure.” She followed him through the house, hating to have lost the special bond they’d started to create. “Just remember my door is always open and my ear is always ready to listen.”

  His smile was faint. “I won’t forget.”

  As Ethan headed out of town, his engine purring like a well-fed cat, he gripped the steering wheel and cursed. Ivy’s kiss and her sweet response had energized him to the point where he needed a long, brisk hike followed by an icy cold shower. Maybe then he’d be able to push aside the memories of Ivy’s warm arms and soft curves.

  He wanted her as much as he wanted air, but he’d truly be the worst sort of lowlife to take what she offered so generously and unreservedly and give her nothing in return.

  Perhaps he should retrace his route and tell her his story. Perhaps she wouldn’t blame him for his son’s death like Tiffany had. On the other hand, being a medical professional herself, she might hold him even more responsible. She might have figured out that he was running from himself, but he’d rather not share the gritty details. Burying the past, not talking about it, was the only way to forget.

  However, as he crawled into his lonely bed an hour and a cold shower later, he discovered that Ivy’s softness, her fragrance, the way she made those little noises in her throat when he kissed her, were all indelibly etched in his memory.

  Sheer desperation drove him to watch late-night television—although he couldn’t recall any of the programming.

  When his eyes felt gritty he finally fell asleep, dreaming of Ivy in his arms.

  “Where’s Ethan?” Ivy asked Heather midmorning the next day. Although she’d seen him when he arrived, looking as sharp as he always did, she knew him well enough now to notice the shadows under his eyes, as if he, too, had spent a relatively sleepless night. But after they’d greeted each other he’d retreated to his side of the hallway like a boxer returning to his corner.

  At first she’d been hurt by his obvious rejection. Then she’d decided he was simply retreating until he gathered his courage to face her. No doubt he’d felt exposed and vulnerable last night, and this was his way of regaining control of the situation.

  In a few minutes, though, he wouldn’t be able to avoid her in order to lick his wounds.

  “He went to E.R. Why? Are you curious, or did you need him for something?”

  “I have a patient I want him to see right away,” she said.

  “He’s been gone for almost thirty minutes, so I wouldn’t think he’d be much longer,” Heather answered. “Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?”

  “Yes, and if he’s not back within five minutes, page him.”

  The nurse frowned. “Problems?”

  “Possibly. I need his opinion on the Jantzen baby.”

  Heather eyed her. “You’re going to ask him to examine an infant? After he’s made it clear that the two don’t mix?”


  “He’ll do it,” she said, with more confidence than she felt.

  “If you say so.” The nurse sounded dubious. “Then again, if he helped out at the diner the other night, who knows what he’ll do if you ask?” She snickered. “Is it true he kissed you in front of everyone?”

  Ivy’s face warmed. “It was a very small, very short kiss. Don’t imagine motives that aren’t there.” Heaven help her if Heather or anyone else in town knew of their kiss last night, in the privacy of her home.

  “If you say so, boss. But rumors about you two are flying.”

  Ivy groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Why? You’re both single. What did you think would happen? If you ask me, he’s a real gem, and if you were smart, you’d do whatever you could to convince him to stay.” She winked. “If I were in your shoes, I certainly would.”

  If only it were a matter of persuasion, but it wasn’t. Ethan had secrets and fought demons that Ivy could only guess at, although she suspected it involved a patient. Maybe several. But, whatever it was, until he came to terms with his past she could talk until she turned blue and he wouldn’t listen.

  “You’re not in my shoes, though.” Then her mental thought about turning blue caused her to glance impatiently at her watch. “Call the E.R., and if no one’s bleeding, he needs to be here now.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Here are your X-rays, Doctor,” the radiology technician said breathlessly as she rushed up to the E.R. nurses’ station with a large envelope in hand. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

  He raised one eyebrow, restraining himself from delivering a caustic remark. It wasn’t the girl’s fault her processor had developed a glitch, thereby taking longer to develop the films than usual, but he hated waiting. Today, however, he managed to be halfway patient—mainly because his strategy for the day was to avoid Ivy. After dreaming of her last night, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t do something crazy, like drag her into an exam room and take up where they’d left off. Physical distance was the key, he’d decided.