Hutch was stunned at how glad he was to see her. The last twenty-four hours had been rough. He’d been forced to rethink his whole life’s plan. And all because of an impetuous, contrary, completely frustrating woman who was pregnant with another man’s babies.
Simone’s grin was sheepish. “I was curious about your house.”
“Would you like a tour?”
“Of course.”
He unlocked the front door, feeling the same rush of satisfaction that had overwhelmed him when he signed his name on the sheaf of closing papers. This old house welcomed him. Though he wasn’t a whimsical man, he had a healthy respect for the past. He liked feeling a part of something bigger than he was.
He led Simone from room to room, standing back and observing as she got to know his home.
In the dining room, she ran her hand along the chair rail. “It’s beautiful, Hutch. The whole place. I can imagine Christmas dinners in this room.”
The dining room was larger than most. It included a working fireplace that would be expensive to insure and maintain, but Hutch looked forward to using it the following winter. “I have some painting to do. And a few small repairs. Hopefully, I’ll be able to move in a couple of weeks from now.”
She stood at the window, looking out into the dark with her back to him. “Why such a big place, Hutch?”
The silence lasted for half a dozen beats. “The usual reasons. I want to have a family someday...a boring, normal life.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’ll never be boring, trust me. Arrogant, maybe. Bossy, infuriating and egotistical. But not boring.”
“Careful, Simone. Too many compliments and I’ll begin to think you might actually like me.”
She whirled around. “Those weren’t compliments, Dr. Hutchinson.”
He chuckled. “Come on. I’ll show you the kitchen.” Actually, it was the kitchen that had sold him on the house. All the modern conveniences were included, but the hardwood floor remained, as well as the antique oak cabinets. During past renovations, granite countertops had been chosen to complement the color of the wood. Cream appliances, clearly special ordered, finished the cozy look.
Simone put her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, Hutch. This is gorgeous.”
Her reaction pleased him more than it should. “I’m glad you like it. My parents raised me to appreciate the old with the new. I made an offer on this place the first time I saw it. I knew it was the one for me.”
Without overthinking it, he put his hands on Simone’s waist and lifted her to sit on the countertop. “I owe you an apology,” he said.
“For what?” Her gaze was wary.
“For thinking it was my right to go with you to the ultrasound. You’re a grown woman. Those babies you carry are your responsibility. I was out of line.” He had realized his mistake after storming out of Simone’s house. As much as he hated to admit it, she had been right to go alone.
“It went well,” Simone said, her soft smile radiant. “Dr. Fetter says I have three viable fetuses. Three babies, Hutch. Can you imagine? Not one, but three. I don’t know whether to be terrified or ecstatic.”
“A little of both would be in order.” He kissed her forehead. “I have a question to ask you.”
Her eyes widened. “What is it?”
“Would you allow me the honor of escorting you to the masquerade ball?” He’d been thinking about it on and off. He realized there was no other man he’d want to see by her side. Even the thought of it left a bad taste in his mouth. In his gut, he knew he was cruising for a fall, yet he was helpless to stop himself.
Knowing the right thing and doing it were two entirely different realities.
Simone nodded slowly. “I like that idea. In fact, I was going to ask you, but you beat me to it.” She hooked two fingers in the open neckline of his collar and pulled. “Let’s seal the deal.”
One thing he’d always loved about Simone was her confidence when it came to sex. She had a healthy self-image, and she didn’t play coy games. “I could be persuaded,” he muttered. Already, his body responded to her invitation. He was pretty sure all she had in mind was a kiss. Still, he was good at persuasion.
With a deep sigh that encompassed relief and inevitability, he slid his hands beneath her hair and cupped her face. “You are so damned beautiful, Simone Parker. I think pregnancy becomes you.”
It was the hint of vulnerability in her blue eyes that did him in. It always had. He kissed her slowly, taking his time, demanding a response and receiving more than he asked in return.
Her arms wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. “Let’s declare a truce,” she pleaded in between frantic kisses. “Until after the babies are born.”
“On what grounds?” He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. She had put him through hell over the years. It was only reasonable that he made her work for this.
“Neighbors. Friendship. Old times.”
“I could live with that. Lift your hips, woman.”
When she obeyed instantly, dangerous lust roared through his veins. He ripped her jeans down her legs and tossed them aside. Her white cotton undies struck him as ridiculously erotic. Pressing two fingertips to her center, he caressed her through the layer of fabric.
Simone gasped, arching her back. He lifted her sweater but didn’t take the time to remove it completely. Then he went still. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
As statements went, that one was sophomoric at best. But his brain had gone all fuzzy. “You’re not wearing a bra,” he repeated, dumbfounded.
Simone cocked her head and gave him an impertinent smile. “It’s late. I was all alone. I had no idea the master of the house was planning to seduce me.”
“I wasn’t planning anything,” he insisted. “But when a man finds a gift on his porch, he isn’t dumb enough to throw it away.” Deliberately taking his time, he lowered the zipper on his pants.
Simone shivered. “Are there any beds upstairs?”
“Not even a measly cot. Don’t worry, little mama. We’ll make do.”
“Hurry,” she said.
When the tail of his shirt caught in his zipper, Simone laughed. “For a doctor, you’re awfully clumsy.”
She was taunting him deliberately. It was an old game they played, one guaranteed to drive him insane. At last he managed to free his erection. He was burning up, but a shiver snaked its way down his spine as he looked at his very first houseguest.
“We can do this,” he muttered. Somehow.
Simone scooted closer to the edge of the counter. “That refrigerator seems awfully sturdy.”
“Good point.” He lifted her into his arms and groaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
“You won’t be able to do this too much longer,” Simone said.
“Couples can have sex until very late in the pregnancy.” He was counting on it.
“I was talking about carrying me, silly man. But I like where you’re headed.”
Where he was headed was to a padded room if he didn’t get inside her soon. “Hold on,” he muttered. He pushed her up against the refrigerator and grinned when the cold metal against her bum made her squeak. “I hope you’re not attached to this underwear.” Panting from exertion, he kept one arm around his prize and used his free hand to shove aside the narrow strip of fabric that was the only thing standing in his way.
When he joined their bodies, Simone moaned and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, Hutch.”
He loved the way she said his name, her bedroom voice drowsy with pleasure. Simone could be a firecracker, a sharp-edged combatant. But when he had her like this, she was an entirely different person.
“Hold on, darlin’,” he said, barely able to form a coherent sentence. The position taxed his strength, but
it also gave him a jolt of satisfaction. Slowly, steadily, he thrust upward, taking her again and again until there was nothing left to take.
In this position, Simone was helpless. He was the aggressor. If there had been anything on top of the fridge, it would have crashed to the floor. He thrust wildly, coming in a climax so powerful it blurred his vision.
Through it all, Simone clung to him and never let go.
At last, the storm passed. He thought he heard and felt her orgasm. He hoped so. In his own delirium, he hadn’t been the most considerate of lovers.
He eased her to her feet and steadied her when her legs wobbled. The water had been turned on, so the kitchen tap worked. There was nothing in the house, though. No paper napkins, no cloth towels.
Simone wrinkled her nose. “I should go home now. I need a shower. And it’s late.”
He nodded. “You want some company?”
She looked up at him, smaller and less combative than in many of their confrontations. Her smile bloomed, her blue eyes clear and happy. “What a lovely idea, Dr. Hutchinson.”
* * *
That first evening set the tone for days that followed. He and Simone, by unspoken agreement, tabled their arguments and their differences. Often, he slept at her place. Other nights he worked at his own home, unpacking boxes until his eyes crossed with exhaustion. Simone tried to help, but he’d been forced to exile her when he found her lifting a container of heavy glassware in the kitchen. She’d pouted at him, but she hadn’t gotten mad.
They were living in a fantasy world, totally ignoring the fact that Simone’s life was about to change radically. Not to mention his.
Once the triplets were born, he wouldn’t see much of Simone anymore. She would have her hands full caring for three small infants.
The thought of losing her again made his stomach clench. He reminded himself that he hadn’t been home from Sudan long. Royal had dozens of available women, one of whom might even be his soul mate if he believed in such a thing. He was a man in his prime. During med school, he hadn’t sown many wild oats. He’d been focused on getting through and excelling. It was what his parents expected and what Hutch wanted.
Now was the perfect time in his life to see who was out there for him. Not that he was foolish enough to think that there was another woman who could set his blood on fire like Simone did—but a man could hope.
Fortunately, Simone was incredibly busy getting things ready for the masquerade ball. He didn’t have to worry about neglecting her when things got crazy at the hospital. The advent of the full moon meant a rush of babies being born. Though he hadn’t picked up many patients of his own yet, he’d been called in on several high-risk cases.
A breech birth. One drug-addicted newborn. A seven-month infant delivered prematurely as a result of a car accident. Thankfully, in that situation, mother and baby had stabilized, but it was touch and go for a while.
There were seventy-two straight hours where Hutch didn’t make it home at all. He snatched a few hours of sleep in the doctors’ lounge, but it was fragmented rest and unsatisfying. He lived off hospital food and bottled water. The only way he knew time had passed was that he changed into clean scrubs twice a day.
Several times he thought about texting Simone, but each moment he pulled out his phone, he ended up being summoned to one labor room or another.
His week went from bad to worse on Wednesday. A young woman, barely six months pregnant and a recent transplant to Royal, came in through the ER. Her vitals were all over the map and the monitors showed fetal distress. It took hours, but finally a team nailed down the cause. The woman was diagnosed with a previously undetected and very rare blood abnormality. She was hemorrhaging internally.
Despite every attempt to save them, the mother and baby both died.
Unfortunately, Hutch’s on-call rotation ended on that note. What he desperately wanted was to stay at the hospital and lose himself in work, trying to get those images out of his head. But that choice would endanger the patients in his care because of his extreme exhaustion.
Instead, he would do the mature, responsible thing. He would go home and sleep.
* * *
Simone bounced from day to day on a bubble of pure happiness. All of her problems were still out there on the horizon, but for now, life was good.
The masquerade party appeared destined to be a smashing success. Over 95 percent of the invitees had responded with an enthusiastic yes.
Thanks to Simone and her staff, the event received unprecedented saturation in both traditional print media and radio as well as blogs, email blasts and social media. Naomi and Cecelia had coordinated an entire crew of volunteers to help transform the ballroom. Tomorrow, the actual decorations would start going up.
Every day, Simone tried on the red dress, almost superstitiously afraid to leave anything to chance. She’d heard some pregnant women say they’d had to resort to maternity clothes overnight. One day they were fine with their jeans unzipped, the next, nothing fit.
She didn’t want that to happen to her.
Knowing that Hutch would be her date for the party was both exciting and alarming. Even with Hutch wearing a mask, everyone would know who he was. Then the speculation would begin.
It probably already had, but this would be the first and likely only time she and Hutch would make an official appearance as a couple. Simone was pregnant. Hutch was back from Africa. Lots of people would make educated guesses.
She hadn’t heard a word from him in almost four days. Fortunately, she wasn’t the kind of woman who needed constant attention from a man. Still, when he neither texted nor called, she began to wonder if she had done something to upset him.
Though she was feeling markedly more like herself, Dr. Fetter had been insistent that Simone not overdo it. Thus, even though Thursday would be the last full workday before the party, Simone closed the office at five sharp on Wednesday and drove herself home.
Now that she felt like eating again—at least most of the time—she was actually hungry. Would Hutch be up for dinner at a quiet restaurant? Honestly, that sounded wonderful to Simone. This pregnancy was taking more of a toll on her body than she had anticipated. Her usual fount of energy was nowhere to be seen. Unwinding with Hutch and a nice, juicy steak might perk her up.
On a whim, she texted him before getting in the shower. By the time she was clean and dry and dressed, he still hadn’t answered. Frowning, she tried to recall his schedule. She was almost certain he’d said he’d be off on Thursday and Friday, which meant that his shift should have ended this afternoon.
Maybe she would pick up carryout Chinese and go over to his house. If he was tired, too, he might welcome the food and the company. At one time, she would have been reluctant to invade his privacy. They’d been on good terms lately, though.
She sent him another text.
Still, he did not answer.
Bit by bit, her confidence eroded. She and Hutch were temporary. They both acknowledged that. What if Hutch had met someone else? What if he regretted his offer to escort her to the masquerade ball?
Maybe he and the mystery woman were over at his house now christening Hutch’s new bed. He’d been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, but she had met the furniture delivery truck day before yesterday and opened Hutch’s house so the men could set up the massive cherry king-size bed in the master suite.
Even with misgivings swirling in her stomach, she grabbed her keys and climbed into the car. Unfortunately, the Chinese restaurant was in the wrong direction, but the detour gave her more time to think. The order took no time at all. When she arrived at Hutch’s place, the house was dark, and his car was in the driveway.
Now, she began to get worried. What if he were ill?
That was dumb. The man was a doctor. He was more than capable of taking care of himself.
>
Again, she wondered if his sudden absence from her life was because he had realized he was wasting his time. The man had a strongly developed moral conscience. Perhaps it had finally occurred to him that Simone was not meant to be a part of his life.
Leaving the food in her car for the moment, she got out and walked up the front steps. Testing the door gingerly, she found it locked.
Maybe he had come home and gone to bed early. At six forty-five? Not likely. Then what was the explanation for the fact that the house was in total darkness? Again, her mind went to the other-woman theory. If Hutch had brought someone home with him, they could be upstairs.
With her chest tight, she took a deep breath and let it out. Hutch would never sleep with two women at the same time. If he met someone else, he would do the honorable thing and tell Simone face-to-face.
Even so, she had a bad feeling about this. Something was definitely amiss. Had the blackmailer chosen now as the time to reveal Simone’s secret? Was Hutch pondering how to boot her out of his life?
She had to make herself walk around the porch. The easy thing would be to run away. But she had to be sure Hutch was okay.
The end of her search was anticlimactic. She found him sitting on the top step, slumped over, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hand.
“Hutch?” She crouched beside him, alarmed. Something in his body language kept her from touching him. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”
“Go home, Simone.”
She froze. His voice was monotone, gruff and raspy. “Have I done something to offend you, Hutch? Talk to me. I can’t fix it if you don’t let me know what it is.”
He stood up, forcing her to do the same. His eyes were the dull brown of fallen leaves in the late fall. Yet somehow, a tiny flame in them seared her. His body language spoke volumes. “For God’s sake, Simone. The whole damn world doesn’t revolve around you. Not everything I do or don’t do is about you. Grow up, damn it. I don’t need you hovering every minute of every day.”
Fourteen
Simone gaped at him, her heart imploding in shock and bitter hurt. Never, even in their most painful days before he left for Sudan, had Hutch lashed out like this. He’d always possessed a maturity beyond his years. Hutch was never cruel.
Triplets for the Texan Page 13
