“I'm sorry,” I said weakly.
“No, baby. You don’t have to be.” He brushed my hair back and placed a kiss on my head.
“I'm sorry I ran out on you. Again.”
“Yeah, we have to do something about that,” he said frowning. And then kissed my knuckles. “I want to marry you, Tynice. And it's not just because you're pregnant with my child. It's because I love you. I want to spend my life by your side. Holding you, loving you and taking care of you and growing a family with you.” As he said those words he then tentatively placed a hand on my stomach. “I love him or her already. I want you both in my life so I can protect you and love you. Just the thought of you being in that state again… it crushes me.”
I cupped his cheek. “I love you too, Adrian.”
“Then marry me. Please,” he asked me earnestly and I smiled.
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”He let out a relieved sigh and kissed me.
I asked about the hearing. “William is sentenced to a full trial with an attempted murder charge for you and his father,” Adrian said in a grim voice. “And his other activities too, of course. I just wish the police hadn’t showed up. I would have killed him for what he did to you.” I knew he would and that thought made me smile. Adrian West would snap a neck without a second thought if anyone as much as laid a finger on me. Could a girl ask for anything else? I guess not. A handsome, protective, hot cowboy husband is a dream come true. Especially if he was your best friend too.
The End… but there's a surprise for you!
Surprise Bonus Book #3
Doctor’s Unwanted Miracles Twins
By Shawna Washington
Oksana Davies
I was pouting.
I knew I was pouting; the nurses knew I was pouting; the doctor knew I was pouting; the security guards who waved us goodbye as we drove out of Mercy General Hospital knew I was pouting; everyone knew I was pouting apart from the one person in the whole world who should have been most concerned and who was sitting right beside me as we drove towards home. Jake Peters was my current fiancé, ‘current’ being the operative word after two previous broken engagements. He also had the singular distinction of being the most infuriating and absurdly clueless man alive!
I glared balefully at his handsome profile as he navigated traffic, my pout quickly turning into an outright scowl as he continued to be serenely unaffected by my bad temper.
“I don’t like that doctor,” I announced.
Jake didn’t respond. Maybe he hadn’t heard me?
I repeated myself, this time getting points for shrill volume, “I said I don’t like that man!”
Jake threw me an irritated glance from underneath bushy brows before studiously facing the road and ignoring me.
“Jake! Say something dammit!” I yelled angrily.
He swore furiously under his breath, before suddenly swerving and screeching to a halt on the shoulder of the road. His nostrils flared as he brought his hand down on the steering wheel with a thundering crash that made me jump. “What! You wanted a baby! You wanted to get checked out when we couldn’t have one immediately! You thought IVF was the best thing since sliced bread! You wanted this particular hospital and doctor! And now suddenly you don’t want him anymore? Gee, why, Oksana? At this rate, I’m in a state of suspended anxiety wondering what you’re gonna want or not want to do next!”
Notice I never mentioned patience as a particular strong suit of Jake’s. At thirty-five, he had wild, shaggy red hair, a surprisingly clean-cut face, a finely chiseled jaw and a well-sculpted nose. He also sported enough tattoos to make a nun blanch and the manners of a Victorian gentleman which probably served him well in his professional golfing career. He was a mass of contradictions but he was not a patient man. I eyeballed him, unfazed by his display of temper because if there was one thing I knew, it was that he would never let his temper get out of hand.
My chin jutted out stubbornly. “So sue me. I don’t like him and I would think you, as my fiancé, would be interested in why I don’t like the doctor who has to put his hands all over my body and run all sorts of tests to try and get me pregnant.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and I could tell his thoughts were working overtime. “You were in there a while. Did he… touch you?”
My eyes goggled at that one and I prepared to launch my most sarcastic response of the year when he quickly amended, “Inappropriately?”
I sighed, deflating. I’ll say this for Jake, he knew me like the back of his palm and he sure knew how to take the wind right out of my sails. Now sarcasm would be just wrong since he had tacitly admitted he left himself wide open for it. It would be like a kicking a puppy which was mean, and Oksana Davies was not a mean person. With a regretful shake of my head at a missed opportunity, I said, “He was professional and all but he made me feel… things.”
Jake’s eyebrows were raised so high I thought they would shove his hairline out of the way and clear a straight path to the back of his head. Alright that’s an exaggeration but Jake’s soft voice cut into my conversation with myself. “What things?”
“I don’t know; things!” I spat evasively. I was rapidly beginning to regret this conversation.
“Like?” he demanded testily.
I hid a grin. Whenever Jake got furious, his nostrils flared so much an impish side of me was always tempted to poke my little finger into it just to see how deep it would go. He would probably blow a gasket if I dared. It sounded like fun.
Notice I can be somewhat reckless sometimes. In fact, as Jake so eloquently put it one time I pissed him off, I was ‘a precocious female without the good sense to exercise caution in the face of danger.’
“He made me feel…shy,” I finished lamely. Truth be told, the doctor had been so professional and on the straight and narrow in his examination of me, you would think the medical council was looking over his shoulder. The problem was not him; it was me.
Dr. Nicholas Carradigne was so sexy it made my heart beat faster just looking at him, which I didn’t understand because I was in love with Jake. Dr. Nicholas had Ivy League stamped all over him. He was six-foot tall, whipcord lean, with salt and pepper blond hair, pink lips that made me bite mine in memory and shoulders so wide I wanted to just rest my head against them and forget the rest of the world. His green eyes probably put Harry Potter to shame with the sheer intensity they had. As I recalled, he had managed to look endearingly like a doctor and a pirate at the same time with his little goatee and the incredibly expensive diamond earring winking in one ear.
His hands, strong, slim and elegant, had been gentle as he poked and prodded and to my eternal embarrassment, I had found myself responding to his touch!
It was at times like this I was immensely grateful for my dark coloring. At thirty-six, I had caramel-colored skin, a sexy voluptuous figure, curves that made men turn their heads, breasts the size of small throw pillows and short black hair done up in flattering jheri curls that curled around my skull in a short afro. My prominent cheekbones, extremely long lashes and brown sloe eyes gave me a model look, or so my best friend Adanna Okeya seemed to think. Adanna was fascinated with the fashion world and sometimes I suspected she couldn’t get enough of me because she somehow thought I had a future in the fashion industry. Unfortunately for Adanna, I was a die-hard attorney with no intention of trading the courtroom for the catwalk anytime soon.
The good doctor was an altogether disturbingly sexy package and if he’d noticed my reactions to his professional touches, he hadn’t given any sign. If I had been fair skinned, I would probably have been red as roses with embarrassment at the way the slight brush of his skin against my inner thigh had brought a pool of wetness rushing between my legs. Thankfully I was also ovulating so with any luck, he would think all that wetness was just from that.
I bit my lips now, wanting to distract Jake. “I just felt shy is all,” I repeated.
He smiled tenderly at me and stroked a hand down my cheek. “I have w
atched you take on hardened criminals and prosecutors and judges without so much as a demur, Oksana. You’re a beautiful enlightened woman and it really isn’t like you to have a case of shyness. He’s your doctor that’s all.”
I nodded.
“Now there will be no more nonsense,” he said decisively as he turned the ignition and pulled back into traffic.
As he drove, I looked over at him; Jake and I had been going steady for over two years now and in all that time, I had never felt the level of inexplicable awareness I felt this one afternoon lying beneath the impersonal touch of a highly professional medical practitioner. It had felt as if every last nerve in my body was electrified; as if every cell was alive, afire, and throbbing even as I wondered pathetically if he liked my curvaceous body.
Good one Oksana, I berated myself mentally as I leaned back against the headrest and shut my eyes. While your boyfriend is devotedly supporting your desire to have a baby, you’re lusting after the fertility specialist!
Oksana Davies
One week later, all thoughts of Dr. Carradigne and his disturbing effect on me had been shoved out of my mind as I pulled into a parking space with all the finesse of 007. I was late for work and this was one day I did not want to be late for work. I had a court seating bright and early this morning but that didn’t worry me half as much as the identity of the judge: Lena Arturo. She had had it in for me since the very first day she’d clapped eyes on me and I was determined that I wouldn’t give the woman any justification to tear into me today.
Judge Lena was slim, wiry and old enough to be my grandmother, yet she somehow miraculously managed to have a booming voice that could be heard clear across the county when she raised it and it seemed as though she raised it every single time I was in her courtroom. Her hair was always packed in a tight bun while she glowered at the entire courtroom from her elevated seat on the bench.
“Hey, sexy!” someone called jovially as I strode confidently towards the swinging doors that led to Ms. Arturo’s courtroom.
“Hi, handsome!” I shouted back, grinning at the janitor who had spoken. The man, Jim O’Malley, had red hair and freckles that bespoke his proud Irish ancestry and a wide mobile mouth that always seemed to be moving. Today he was chewing vigorously on tobacco, as he removed the ‘wet floor’ signs from the now obviously dry tiles.
“You’re late,” he pointed out with indecent relish.
“Tell me about it,” I got out as I swung the doors open and dashed in, heading straight for my place at the plaintiff table.
I noted gratefully that her lordship was not seated yet and as I plunked into my seat, I threw a look at my client and she smiled tremulously at me. I understood her ambivalence; civil suits would do that to you. She wasn’t worried about my tardiness so much as she was worried about the jury returning a verdict friendly to our side.
As though on cue, her lordship strode in and seated herself before barking an order at the bailiff. He immediately opened another door and the members of the jury filed in, their faces studiously facing away from the defense and plaintiff tables as they made a production of seating themselves.
I looked down at my hands; despite my outward cheer, this case struck a personal chord with me. My client had sued a big drug company because the medication she had taken had produced side effects which meant she might never be able to have children. The company argued that it was all hypothetical and had paraded an endless supply of experts and women who had used the drugs and yet had children. But they hadn’t been able to explain away our evidence that the drug had some chemicals that affected certain people more adversely than others.
Judge Lena Arturo leaned towards her mic and even before she spoke, I could tell from the way her lips pursed with displeasure that her next comment was going to be directed at me.
I wasn’t disappointed.
“Ms. Davies,” she began in strident tones, dripping displeasure. “I wonder where you got the idea that this court was supposed to convene at your convenience.”
“Ma’am?” I asked stupidly, rising to my feet.
“You were late!” she spat.
My back went up at her tone and for the first time in the several years since I had been at the receiving end of her sharp tongue, I stared her down, “I was seated before the court, Your Honor.”
She glared at me, her chin trembling with what looked unbelievably like silent laughter. I had never seen her laugh; she seemed to be one of those Botoxed women who never laughed and it was all the more scary because she hadn’t had any Botox.
Judge Arturo turned to the jury foreman, dismissing me as she boomed, “Madame Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?”
“Yes, ma’am. In the matter of Tina Garrett v. Welkins Corporations Limited, the jury has found the Defendant liable to the Plaintiff for …”
The rest of what the jury foreman was saying passed in a blur; she had me at ‘liable’. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied my client trying her best to control her facial expressions even as she surreptitiously pinched herself repeatedly in disbelief.
The next thing I knew, the jury was awarding damages in millions of dollars. Ms. Garrett’s hands clutched mine under the desk and I could tell she was afraid to believe what she was hearing.
The judge smacked the gavel to quiet down the court and then she polled the jury to see how they voted. Once the jury had filed out, Judge Arturo glared down at me from the bench. “I see you had your day in court, counsel. Kindly take the celebrations outside! This is a court of law and not a clubhouse!”
So saying, she rose with all the regal bearing of a regent and departed from the room, trailed by her bailiff.
Defense counsel walked up to me, his hand stretched for a handshake. “That was a fine case you put up, counsel. I was impressed,” he admitted.
I took his hand grinning happily. My job was my life. I loved the legal profession since I was a child so when it was time for a career path, it was a no-brainer. I lived law, I breathed law; it was my life’s work.
“Thank you, sir. You’re too kind,” I said modestly.
Actually I had made mincemeat of his client and its defense. But then, grace in victory was an important trait I had learned at the feet of my African mother. My law practice was thriving, as well it should since I had put everything else including my personal life on hold in order to focus on it. I was unmarried by choice because Jake had popped the question enough in the past. He had learned to stop asking though after the fourth ‘no’.
I looked over at my client as she hugged her husband in celebration and my heart twisted. They would get considerable loot in damages but Tina’s infertility was permanent. It reminded me of my own situation. I wasn’t crazy about marriage but I wanted kids with a passion that defied all reason. Jake and I had been trying to have kids for the two years we had been together but I had been unable to get pregnant in all that time, hence our recent trip to the fertility clinic.
I sighed as I collected my briefcase and papers.
“Are you alright?” someone asked.
I looked up and saw Jake. My eyes widened in surprise. What was he doing here?
He looked taken aback when he saw my surprise. “I know you did not forget we had some more tests to run for the doctor today?” he reminded me.
I had actually forgotten and the guilt was written all over my face.
Jake was not amused. He glared at me, his face dark with fury. “Well since it’s not so important to you, I’ll go back to work!”
“Jake” I started, grabbing for his hand.
“Oh no, let me guess, you were too busy chasing briefs to realize you had an appointment. How do you expect me to believe this baby is important to you when you can’t spare a minute to go see your doctor?”
“Jake” I tried again, reaching for his arm.
He flung off my hand and ignoring me, sailed through the door and out the courtroom. I stared after him, feeling strangely bereft.
If I had t
o face Dr. Nicholas Carradigne again, I didn’t want to do it alone; I didn’t trust myself around the man.
What if I did something stupid?
Like what? Beg him to kiss you? my subconscious scoffed. Or actually urge his hands to more interesting parts of your body?
Yeah, something like that, I thought shakily.
Oksana Davies
“Dr. Carradigne will see you now, ma’am,” the bright-eyed nurse chirped.
She looked about twelve years old, I thought with biting amusement, noting her cornrows, wide eyes and little button mouth. She was cute in an I-just-got-out-of-high-school sort of way.
Her Designer Baby: (Loving Over 40 Book 1) Page 41
