Triplets for the Texan

by Janice Maynard

  His eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened. “Are you pissed that I went to Africa? Is that it, Simone? If you’ll recall, I offered to stay here until you got your agency off the ground. But you were pretty emphatic that I should go. So don’t blame me for the mess you’ve made of your life.”

  She swallowed hard. Already, her stomach cramped with nerves and nausea, and she hadn’t even taken a bite yet. The old Hutch would never have been so blunt. There was a time he’d humored her every whim and thought her biting sarcasm was funny.

  Not so much anymore.

  She lifted her chin, striving for dignity. “You’re right. I apologize. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a better chance of getting this to go down successfully if I don’t have an audience. And to be clear, I don’t blame you for anything. You’re an easy target, and I’m at the end of my rope. But don’t worry, Hutch. I’ll be just fine.”

  * * *

  Hutch cursed softly, striding rapidly out of the room. How was it possible for one small woman to make him feel like a complete and utter failure? No one in his entire adult life had caused him as many sleepless nights as Simone Parker. Not even Bethany.

  He prowled the house, pacing from room to room, feeling his bitterness and frustration grow. Though he finally managed to sleep for a few hours, at 3:00 a.m. he was up again. In the darkest moments of the night, he at last admitted to himself why he was so angry.

  In some foolish, illogical corner of his brain, he had entertained the hope that he and Simone might mend fences. Despite his utter despair at losing Bethany, seeing Simone that first day in the exam room at the hospital had given him hope.

  But the feeling was a lie. He was a bloody idiot. He and Simone were no more compatible than they had ever been. She had a chip on her shoulder so big it was a wonder it didn’t crush her. Surely she didn’t expect him to sit at her feet like a puppy dog begging for scraps. Those babies she carried weren’t his. She didn’t want to be married. Not to him, not to anyone. With this unconventional pregnancy, she was thumbing her nose at the world.

  He might not understand why, but he knew it was true.

  At last, sheer exhaustion trumped his fury. He went to Simone’s bedroom to check the IV, more for something to do than any real expectation that the bag was empty. Barb had changed it late that afternoon.

  What he heard as he stood in the hallway put a knot in his chest.

  Simone was crying...not just crying, but sobbing. Plucky, confident, decisive Simone sounded as if her heart was completely broken.

  He backed away quietly, not wanting to embarrass her. Then he stopped. Not even the most coldhearted of bastards could leave her in that condition.

  Though he suffered misgivings on a massive scale, he padded over to the bed in his sock feet and crouched beside her. She lay on her back with one arm flung over her eyes.

  “Simone,” he whispered, not wanting to alarm her. “Stop crying, honey. It only makes things worse.”

  Without waiting for permission, he unhooked the IV, scooped her up and sat down with her in his lap. Leaning against the headboard, he stroked her hair. “Talk to me, little mama. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  Though she huffed and protested and struggled briefly, he felt the moment she went limp in his embrace. She burrowed into his chest like a frightened child. Tears wet his shirt. The sobs were less ferocious, but the crying didn’t stop.

  It worried him. Simone was not one to give up on any challenge. He’d never seen her like this. Gently, he held her close, telling himself the position was for her benefit. He didn’t even flinch at the lie. That’s how easy it was for his libido to seize the wheel.

  Minutes ticked away on the clock. Simone was a welcome weight against his body. Though she was too thin, and arguably not at her best, to him, she was as stunningly beautiful as she had ever been. Imagining her round belly in the advanced stages of pregnancy flooded him with an entirely inappropriate rush of arousal.

  At one time, he had envisioned that scenario with pride and anticipation. Now everything was wrong. And he felt powerless to make it right.

  Seven

  “Enough, Simone,” he said firmly. “That’s enough.”

  Gradually, she calmed. Except for the occasional tiny, hiccupping sob, the storm was over.

  He played with her hair, plaiting it between his fingers. He didn’t touch her breasts. He wanted to... God knows he wanted to. But that would be too much temptation. He wasn’t prepared to throw all caution to the wind.

  Pregnancy was the most natural thing in the world, and yet complicated. From teenagers who didn’t mean to get pregnant to full-grown women who craved a child and couldn’t conceive, the process was messy and fraught with pitfalls. He couldn’t imagine the toll this was taking on Simone emotionally.

  He smoothed his palm over her back. “Better now?” he asked.

  She nodded, sitting up and sniffling. Her damp eyes were sapphires framed in coal-black lashes. “Hutch.”

  His name was a caress on her lips, a sweet, irresistible invitation. God help him. He slid his hands beneath her hair and steadied her head, tipping her mouth up for his kiss. He wanted her to stop him. He needed her to be alarmed and outraged. Instead, she leaned into him.

  Their lips clung, mated. She tasted like toothpaste. “Sweet Simone,” he muttered, easing her onto her back. He moved half on top of her, his leg wedged between her thighs. She sighed and welcomed him, though her thin nightgown hampered her movements.

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her slender throat. Simone arched against him, her breathing ragged. When he made his way down to the place where the neckline of her gown covered her breasts, Simone stiffened for the first time.

  Instinctively, he drew back. He was half out of his mind, but not so far gone he didn’t know when a woman said no. Verbal or body language, it didn’t matter.

  She frowned. “Why did you stop?”

  “I felt you tense up.”

  “Not because of you.”

  “Then why?”

  “I don’t want to hurt the babies.”

  He smiled, though it took an effort. “Nothing a man and a woman do in this situation is cause for alarm. I swear to you.”

  She kept one hand on his shoulder, the other free to comb through his hair. The feel of her fingertips on his scalp made him shiver. “Hutch?”

  “Yes?”

  “I guess it’s obvious we both need this. But it won’t mean anything beyond tonight. It can’t.”

  “Is that an ultimatum?” Why couldn’t the damn woman live in the moment? That was a lesson he had learned in Sudan when life was so very fragile and joy came only in fleeting snatches.

  She rubbed her thumb across his cheekbone. “No ultimatum.” She sighed.

  “Do you want me?”

  “So much it hurts. Is that normal?”

  “Many pregnant women find themselves with increased libido.”

  Simone laughed at him. “You’re funny when you get all serious and medical.”

  “Most people respect my position and my expertise.”

  “Most people haven’t seen you naked.”

  His lips twisted in a wry grin. He would never develop too much of an inflated ego with Simone around. “Are you feeling ill? At all?”

  She wrapped one slender, toned thigh around his leg. “I’m good to go.”

  Hutch knew he was making a mistake. Simone must have known it, too. But the heat and yearning between them was too powerful to ignore. “I’ve been tested recently,” he said. “I’m clean.”

  “I’m in the clear also. And it’s not like you’re going to knock me up.” The line should have been funny, but neither of them laughed.

  Very deliberately—to give them both a chance to change their m
inds—he stood and stripped off his clothes. Simone tracked his every move. Afterward, he helped her sit up, and they both managed to raise her gown over her head. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, so now she was completely nude.

  He reclined beside her and put a tentative hand on her belly. “Odd, isn’t it...that you can’t really feel anything when so much is going on?”

  She leaned against him, her hand on top of his. “I’m scared, Hutch.”

  “Of which part?” He kissed her softly, almost light-headed because every bit of blood had rushed south to his sex.

  “All of it. Labor. Delivery. Bringing home three newborns. Trying to breastfeed.”

  “Women have been doing this since the dawn of time. You’re smart and organized. I have no doubt you’ll conquer motherhood like you do every other hurdle in your life.”

  “Make love to me, Hutch.”

  Her eyes were damp. She seemed more sad than amorous. But he couldn’t tell her no. Not anymore.

  Carefully, he spread her legs and tested her readiness with two fingers. Her sex was moist and swollen. “Simone,” he groaned. He slid into her with one steady push. The sensation was indescribable. Pausing to let her adjust to his size, he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Her fingernails scored his back.

  “More,” she demanded. “More, Hutch.”

  He lost his mind. There was no other way to describe it. His fantasies from endless dark, hot, uncomfortable nights in West Darfur burst into life with a euphoric explosion that took him to the brink of a powerful orgasm in seconds. He could tell Simone wasn’t far behind.

  Deliberately, he reached between their sweat-slickened bodies and found the little spot that made her tumble over the edge. They clung to each other like survivors in the aftermath of a killer wave.

  The room was dark and silent. At last, he pushed up onto one elbow and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Again?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Again...”

  * * *

  Simone spent the waning hours of the night wrapped in Hutch’s arms. He spooned her, her back pressed to his chest. Though she felt his sex flex against her bottom, stiff and ready, they didn’t make love again.

  It was the most restful sleep she’d experienced in the last two weeks. If she tried really hard, she could pretend the past five years never happened.

  Toward morning, the nausea returned. Hutch held her hair and washed her face after she retched helplessly. He helped put her nightgown back on and sat with her, coaxing her bite by bite until she finished several crackers.

  Then Barb arrived and Hutch transformed into Dr. Hutchinson. “I’ll call with the lab results,” he said, his expression distant and remote.

  “Thank you,” Simone said, her heart shredding in agony.

  Barb bustled about, oblivious to the tension in the room.

  Hutch nodded. “You ladies have a good day. I need to get to the hospital.”

  When Simone didn’t reply, he spun on his heel and walked out.

  After that, the day was an endurance test. Eat. Get sick. Eat again. But the episodes were coming further apart, and she was actually managing to keep food down long enough to reap the benefits.

  When Hutch called the landline with Simone’s test results, Barb answered and jotted down some numbers. She hung up the phone and gave Simone a thumbs-up. “Your electrolytes and other blood levels are right where they need to be, young lady. Let’s take that needle out of your hand and allow you to get back to normal.”

  Barb stayed for the remainder of the day, but it was clear that Simone was learning to manage the nausea on her own. The efficient nurse said her goodbyes just before five o’clock, about the time Cecelia showed up with a huge pan of lasagna and a crusty loaf of French bread.

  Cecelia blanched when Simone got teary-eyed. “What did I do?” she asked urgently. “Are you in pain?”

  Simone hugged her tightly. “I’m just so glad to see you.”

  Her beautiful blonde friend carried everything through to the kitchen. “No garlic on the bread and no heavy spices in the lasagna. I’m determined to fatten you up. You look awful, hon.”

  Simone simply shook her head. Was there no one who would lie to her and tell her she looked great? “I feel like I could eat the whole pan. But I won’t,” she said hastily. “My poor stomach is barely speaking to me as it is.”

  Cecelia nodded. “It should keep in the fridge for several days. When will you be able to go back to work?”

  “I know you’re worried about your campaign, but I’m not going to drop the ball, I promise. I’m planning to go in tomorrow, even if I have to cut the day short.”

  The other woman raised one perfect eyebrow. “Please give me some credit. I’m not worried about the campaign, I’m worried about you, Simone. Would you mind telling me why in the world you had to get pregnant right now? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “I thought Naomi filled you in.” Simone perched on a stool at the granite counter. She didn’t really want to go through the whole explanation again, especially when it wasn’t all that believable the first time.

  Cecelia waved a hand, the one not showcasing her amazing engagement ring. “Naomi tried to put a positive spin on it, but I wasn’t buying it. Since when do you want to be a mother?”

  Cecelia’s skepticism stung. “Is that really so hard to imagine?”

  “You’ve poured your heart and soul into the agency. You’ve dated one or two...not more than three guys since Hutch headed off to Africa. And never once have you given any indication that your biological clock is ticking any louder than mine or Naomi’s. I know you, girl. Something strange is going on.” Cecelia broke off a warm piece of bread, wrapped it in a paper napkin and handed it to Simone. “Tell Auntie Cee Cee what’s up, or I’ll be forced to resort to blackmail.”

  It was a poor choice of words. When Simone flinched, Cecelia frowned. “What did I say? You know I was only kidding. But seriously, Simone. Tell me what the heck is going on.”

  Sooner or later the truth would come out. Sooner or later Simone would have to confide in her two best friends. But she still felt raw and guilty about her decision. She needed time to come to terms with what she had done before she came clean completely.

  “It’s true,” she muttered. “There’s more to this than you know. I won’t keep it a secret forever. But in the meantime, I need you to be my friend and tell me everything is going to work out fine.”

  “Is that because the gorgeous doctor is going to step in and make an honest woman out of you?”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” Simone snapped. “Hutch doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess.”

  “Well, maybe he’ll at least stick around this time.” Cecelia’s dour comment made Simone want to rush to Hutch’s defense. The man had simply followed his dreams and his calling. While she appreciated her friend’s wholehearted support, it really wasn’t fair to paint Hutch as the villain.

  “Let’s eat,” Simone said. “The lasagna smells amazing. And if you don’t mind, let’s not talk about Hutch or babies or my sordid secrets. Dr. Fetter says stress can make my nausea worse.”

  “Sordid?” Cecelia perked up. “I’m intrigued.”

  “You’re also wildly happy, aren’t you?” Simone said, trying to change the subject as she piled a small dollop of lasagna on her plate. “Deacon must be good for you. I’m pretty sure you’re glowing.”

  Cecelia’s smile was smug. “He’s amazing. And we’re both thrilled about the baby.”

  “I’m very happy for you.”

  Cecelia sobered for a moment. “Is it true you’re having triplets?”

  Simone nodded. “As long as nothing goes wrong. Sometimes one fetus doesn’t develop. It’s too soon to know.”

  “Would you be relieved if you
only had one or two?”

  Trust Cecelia to cut to the heart of the matter. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Lord knows how I’ll manage. But now that I know there are three, I want them all so badly. It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t really explain it. All I know is that I would be heartbroken if anything happened to even one of them. I feel like their mother already.”

  Cecelia leaned over to hug her. “I get it, hon. This whole pregnancy thing turns the world upside down.” She hesitated, clearly looking for a tactful way to phrase her question. “So how does the good doctor figure into all of this? Naomi said he was here the other night when she came over.”

  “He’s the new head of the maternal-fetal department at the hospital. Not my doctor,” Simone said hastily. “I’m Dr. Fetter’s patient. But I’m considered high-risk because of the multiples. Hutch oversees and keep tabs on all the cases.”

  “And does he make house calls to each of those pregnant women?”

  “Of course not.”

  Cecelia rolled her eyes. “Fine. Live in the land of denial while you can.”

  Simone felt her face get hot. What would Cecelia and Naomi think if they knew about last night? “I doubt I’ll see much of him. The only reason he was here is that I chose to have my IV at home instead of taking up a hospital bed. He wanted to make sure I was okay. That’s all.”

  “Whatever you say, little chick. I won’t harass you when you’re so sick. Still, the day of reckoning will come. Don’t think you can avoid this subject forever.”

  That was the problem, Simone thought bleakly. With this Maverick person threatening her, she was always going to have the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. Telling her parents was going to be bad. She knew she had to do it soon. If they got wind of her pregnancy any other way, they might pressure her into marrying the baby’s father. How was she going to explain that the mystery man was no more to her than a control number on a test tube?

  Cecelia waved a hand in front of Simone’s face. “Hello, in there. Anybody home?”

  Simone took a bite of lasagna and washed it down with tea. “Sorry. I was thinking.”