One Night That Changed Everything

by Tina Beckett

  No. She drew herself up straight. “Not necessary.”

  “Oh, but it is, Hannah.” The words were soft, but a thread of steel ran through them. His brown eyes bored into hers. “If you end up pregnant, I want to know.”

  She tugged away from him, her arms going around her waist as if holding whatever was inside her in place. “The situation might be a little more complicated than you think.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  COMPLICATED?

  How could the situation possibly be any more complicated than it already was? Greg had already resigned himself to doing the right thing if Hannah became pregnant. He’d do right by the child, be a part of its life where he could—but even the thought of that made his chest tighten. One careless slip-up and he found himself at the end of a dark tunnel with the distant roar of a freight train sounding at the other end.

  Hell.

  He was tired, hungry and the last thing he wanted to do right now was stand in an exam room and talk about responsibility. But having this conversation in his office was out of the question. He hadn’t been in there since last night, and one glimpse of those pencils scattered over the floor would do him in. He’d eventually have to go in and pick them up, a task he wasn’t sure he was up to, even if he was all alone in the clinic. Knowing Hannah was somewhere nearby would make it that much worse.

  He could always ask her to transfer—find her a position at another oncologist’s office. But that would be copping out. And he had never turned his back on his responsibilities. Besides, she was damned good at her job. He didn’t want to lose her, if he didn’t have to.

  “Do you have any plans for this evening?” he asked, when she continued to stand there without explaining what she meant by her words.

  “I’m sorry?” The hint of panic in her eyes made his gut churn. Surely she didn’t think he was coming on to her. Again. This would be a good time to knock that notion right out of the ballpark and let it stay there. There would be no repeats. “I mean, it’s almost seven, and I haven’t eaten. I’m guessing you haven’t either.”

  “No.”

  No, she hadn’t eaten? Or, no, she didn’t want to get anything with him?

  “Are you up for grabbing a bite? We can talk on the way.”

  She hesitated before giving a simple nod.

  Halfway to the Seafood Bistro, about five miles from his office, he still hadn’t opened his mouth and tackled the subject at hand. And neither had she. Instead, she stared pensively out the window, her right elbow propped on the window ledge of the vehicle, chin cupped in her palm. She’d avoided looking at him since he’d cornered her at the clinic, except when he’d taken hold of her and forced her eyes to his in the hallway. Was it better to talk now, or after his dinner had time to sink to the bottom of his stomach like a rock?

  Tightening his fingers around the wheel, he glanced over at her. “Okay, we both agree this situation is complicated. So what are we going to do about it?”

  She shrugged, still not looking his way. “I suggest we adopt a watch-and-wait attitude.”

  Watch and wait? He was an oncologist so, yes, there were times when it was wise to sit back and see what happened. But other times you had to plan ahead, take aggressive measures before things got out of hand.

  Like what? Exactly what kind of measures could he take, besides setting up some kind of trust fund? And there was no way he’d ask her to get an abortion. His chest tightened even as the thought went through his mind.

  Would she, if the opportunity presented itself?

  Complicated was right.

  So, maybe he could start with a trust fund, although he chafed at the idea of something so impersonal. Sticking a sizeable sum in an account once a month seemed cold and distant, hardly the kind of “taking responsibility” he’d talked about earlier.

  His sister would have frowned at him for even considering it, would have said he was taking the easy way out. Just like when his father had wanted him to skip college in order to take over the family business. Greg had been on the verge of giving up his dreams, until Bethany had dropped the application for medical school on his bed and told him to do what was right, not what was easy.

  Time to do the right thing.

  “How long do you intend to wait before verifying things?”

  She finally turned and looked at him. “You didn’t get me pregnant, Greg, I’m almost sure of it, okay?”

  “Almost sure doesn’t cut it, in this situation.”

  “It’s possible my body is still so messed up from the chemo that I won’t be able to conceive. Ever. So I hardly think one quickie is going to do the trick.”

  Quickie. Okay, that stung. Even if she’d been as quick as he had.

  And, damn it, he’d tried to do the right thing then, too, had tried to stop and get a condom. He hadn’t just thrown caution to the wind. Was she really so sure that she couldn’t get pregnant?

  “Have you talked to a doctor about your fertility?”

  Her elbow came off the window, her hands clasping together in her lap. “Yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  There was a long pause before she answered. “She said there are no guarantees.”

  The soft wistfulness in her voice made him sad, even while he physically relaxed into his seat. Maybe the situation wasn’t the tragedy he was making it out to be. Although something inside him mourned for Hannah. They’d both known at the beginning of her treatment that the drugs could render her infertile. But when your life is at stake, you do what you have to do to give yourself the best possible outcome.

  He took the turn-off to the restaurant and tried to think. They could always watch and wait, like Hannah suggested. But he really needed her to know he was there for her if she needed him. Just like his sister had been there for him.

  The parking lot was just starting to fill up. Greg found an empty spot and switched off the engine, trying to decide what to do. Just then a rumble came from Hannah’s seat. He blinked. “Was that your stomach?”

  She gave a quick laugh. “Sorry. I think it knows we’re here.”

  With that, the decision was made. Any further conversation could wait until she’d at least gotten something into her system. “I keep telling you, you don’t have to work the same hours I do.”

  She stepped out of the car and waited for him to join her. “You were in surgery, and we had patients scheduled.”

  And Greg was normally responsible for scheduling them, which made him feel like a first-class heel. He knew he’d have to spend the day in surgery from time to time, and yet he still scheduled himself till he was up to his eyeballs in patients. In the past, he hadn’t had a PA and could do his own thing—they’d simply juggled patients on days he had an emergency come up. But as his practice grew, he found himself pulled in too many directions. Hannah being available had been a godsend. One he’d taken advantage of. Maybe too much.

  “Sorry, I should have kept track better. I’ll try to cut back on the workload.”

  She touched his arm. “I like working. I want to keep doing it right up until I…” Her voice trailed away, eyes widening.

  Was she planning on quitting? “Until you what?”

  She hesitated. “I have something to tell you, but it can wait until after we eat.”

  And let him worry about it the entire meal? No. Not happening.

  “Are you leaving the practice?” If she was, he wanted to know it now. Up front. Except even the thought made something in his chest dive toward his gut. Dammit. It would be easier for everyone if she did leave.

  “No, not unless you want me to, or…” She blinked a couple of times. “Please, let’s talk about this once we’ve both had something to eat. Maybe I can figure out how to say it by then.”

  Great. Now he was imagining all kinds of scenarios. Was she involved with someone?

  Hell, he hadn’t even thought about that. It would make what he’d done ten times worse. Was that the complication she’d been talking about?
Had he just ruined something between her and a significant other?

  Her quick glance toward the restaurant said she was serious about eating first and talking later. He remembered her stomach growling and cursed himself again. He was handling this whole situation like an idiot. No wonder he steered clear of relationships. Not only did he not have the time but he was doing a terrible job of moving this conversation in the right direction. “Okay, after we eat. But we are going to talk.”

  Once they were seated at the table, the server took their order and brought a cutting board loaded with a fresh loaf of pumpernickel bread. Greg nodded toward it. “Help yourself.”

  Hannah sliced a generous hunk and slathered it with butter. She bit into the bread with a groan, a tiny crumb landing on the outside corner of her lip. A quick flick of her tongue swept it away again.

  He swallowed hard, even though his mouth was currently empty, because all he could think about was the hot kissing they’d done in the reception area of the clinic, the way she’d coaxed him into her mouth, had kept him there with the same kind of noises she was currently making. And how all he wanted to do was drag her off to some dark corner and do it all over again. This time going a hell of a lot slower.

  A perfect way to repeat the same mistakes.

  “Try some,” she said, holding out the knife. “It’s soft and very delicious.”

  Just like Hannah was.

  He took the knife and was somehow able to hack off a chunk of bread. Shoving it into his mouth before anything he said tipped her off as to his thoughts, he chewed then swallowed.

  He could have been eating shoe leather for all he knew—he couldn’t taste a thing.

  “Don’t you like butter?”

  Okay, so maybe that was why he’d had to choke it down.

  She cut another piece and buttered it, then handed it to him. “It’s honey butter. Try it.”

  Greg already knew what it tasted like, he’d been to this particular restaurant many times before, but he couldn’t resist taking it from her and biting into it as she watched him. This time, he forced himself to taste the food, to let the flavors swirl on his tongue.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  His eyes held hers. “Yes. Very.”

  Neither of them moved or talked for the next few seconds as they stared at each other. Then the waiter came over, and the soft clinking of a plate being set down in front of him dragged his attention away from her.

  Except he didn’t want this food. He wanted her to keep buttering his bread and watching him as he ate it. Wanted her to keep watching as he leaned across the table and put his lips to hers.

  Greg closed his eyes and tried to force the image away. They had a serious situation on their hands. Kissing was the last thing they needed to do. So they’d eat. Have their little conversation, then he would drop her off and drive away. Intact. With a contingency plan in place in case the unthinkable actually happened.

  The only thing was, he hadn’t the foggiest idea what that plan was. Maybe it would come to him as he ate.

  He’d ordered the fresh grilled salmon, while Hannah had claimed she was throwing caution to the wind and having the seafood Alfredo. Despite the weight she’d put on since her chemo, she was still more slender than she’d been a year ago—her hip bones had pressed into his abdomen as they’d ground together…

  And that—he rotated his neck to relieve the growing tightness in his spine—was not something he should be remembering. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

  “Are you involved with someone?”

  He wasn’t quite sure where the words had come from, but the effect was immediate. She froze, her fork and its burden of creamy noodles stopping halfway to her mouth. “I’m sorry?”

  “If I’ve made things awkward between you and a boyfriend, I want to apologize.”

  “A boyfriend?” She set her fork down and leaned forward, eyes flashing. “You think I would have…done what we did if I’d been seeing someone?”

  The words, although soft, rang between them like a gong, and he immediately wished he could take back his question.

  “I didn’t think you were, but what happened wasn’t planned. It was so sudden…I just wanted to make sure that’s not what you meant by complicated.”

  She nodded, her lips still tight. “It’s not. And since you seem so determined to do this now, I’ll just come right out with it.” Her fingers curled around the edge of the table. “I had an I.U.I. done yesterday morning.”

  “An…” His brain scrambled to find the words that went with the acronym. Found it. “Intrauterine insemination?”

  “Shh.” She glanced around. “Yes.”

  She was trying to get pregnant? “Are you taking fertility drugs?”

  She nodded again, her fingers now toying with the tablecloth.

  Which could explain why she’d seemed so eager for him last night. The hormones tended to up the libido. That might be the reason for her reaction, but what about his? He seemed to be a walking commercial for Viagra whenever she was around.

  Something else occurred to him. She’d said her system could be so messed up that she might not be able to conceive. If she’d had an I.U.I. that morning, surely she hadn’t been trying to up her odds of getting pregnant by sleeping with him.

  Hannah wouldn’t do that. Would she?

  “How badly do you want a pregnancy?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That wasn’t what last night was about, was it?”

  If he’d thought his question about a significant other had raised her hackles, this one had done that times ten, if the angry color marching along her cheekbones was anything to go by. “I think I’d like to leave now.”

  When she reached for her purse, he put his hand over hers. “Don’t. I don’t know why I asked that. I just had no idea you wanted to…The timing seems so…”

  “Convenient?”

  “Yes.” A sense of shame washed over him the second he admitted it. “But I should have known better.”

  “I can see how it might look but, I promise you, I didn’t want what happened any more than you did.”

  Complicated. She’d hit that word on the head.

  He nodded toward her food. “Go ahead and eat, Hannah, before it gets cold.”

  “I’d rather just get this over with, okay? I didn’t use you to boost my chances. But even if I am pregnant, there’s no way to know if it’s yours or the donor’s. Let’s just leave it alone.”

  He took his hand off hers. “There’s always D.N.A. testing.”

  “I won’t go that route. Not before the baby—if there even is a baby—is born. I won’t take that risk, especially since the fertility specialist couldn’t promise the I.U.I. would even work. If it does, I don’t want to lose it. I might never get another opportunity to have a baby. Let’s just assume that the donor’s…er contribution is the only player in the game. It had at least a twelve-hour head start.”

  She was handing him an easy way out, one he should grab with both hands. But his sister’s face appeared before him, that little furrow cutting between her brows. This time he didn’t need the warning, however. Something in him wanted to know if the child was his. He wouldn’t be able to look at Hannah’s growing body without wondering. And he’d have a hard time looking at himself in the mirror if he closed his eyes and pretended none of this had ever happened.

  “What about after it’s born? You can have the testing done then. It’s as easy as swabbing the inside of the child’s cheek.”

  “Why bother, Greg? No matter whose D.N.A. the baby carries, I’ll be the one raising it, nurturing it. That’s what I wanted when I started down this road. It’s still what I want. This was my decision. Not yours.”

  A flush of anger crept through him, growing stronger as he realized what she was saying. So much for taking responsibility for his actions. Hannah was going to try to shut him out completely.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, fixing his attention o
n those gorgeous green eyes of hers. “It may have started out as your decision, but that changed the moment we had unprotected sex.” She flinched at those words, but he kept going. “I was as much a part of that particular decision as you were. If this child is the result of our coming together—no matter the hows or whys—then it won’t be just your baby. It’ll be mine, as well.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SNOW.

  Hannah scrunched her nose when she pulled aside the drapes. It was just a light dusting of the stuff, and she’d seen worse in October. Much worse. But dark skies promised more of the same. She’d hoped winter might hold off a little longer.

  She glanced over at the rustic wooden settle she’d made a couple of years ago, just before her illness. Hopefully her red ice grippers were still inside the storage area beneath it and would hold up for one more winter. She’d have to dig them out and make sure. Although how much hiking she’d get in this year was yet to be seen. But if she wound up pregnant, they could come in handy as she grew larger and weather conditions began to deteriorate. Walking across an icy parking lot to the grocery store was treacherous enough even when her center of gravity wasn’t pushed forward by a foot.

  Her work schedule was still busy, although, true to his word, Greg had cut back on the number of patients they saw after six o’clock. At least on days he was scheduled to be at the hospital. All other days, he continued working like a crazy person.

  She sighed. It had been a week since they’d had their last big discussion, when he’d insisted he wanted a role in the baby’s life, if there was a baby and if it ended up being his.

  How? She barely saw him during office hours these days, and she worked with the man. How did he expect to make time for a baby? Was that really the role model she wanted for a child? That of a workaholic whose job came before everything else?