Dr Zinetti's Snowkissed Bride / The Christmas Baby Bump

by Sarah Morgan / Lynne Marshall

  Except for Robbie staying with him, he hadn’t lived with anyone since his med-school roommates. And he really didn’t miss their stinky socks and dirty underwear tossed around the cramped apartment. Come to think of it, Robbie’s socks ran a close second, and the kid knew nothing about putting things away. He smiled at the image of his little half brother strutting around in his underwear with pictures of superheroes pasted all over. Even his nighttime diapers had cartoon characters decorating them. What in the world had his life turned into?

  An odd sensation tugged somewhere so buried inside he couldn’t locate it, but the feeling still managed to get his attention. Heads up, dude. Take note. Maybe there’s something to be said for a good relationship and a family.

  No. Way. Maybe it worked for other people, but he wasn’t capable of sustaining a long-term love affair. Wasn’t interested. He knew just as many people whose marriages didn’t work out. Hell, his own mother had walked out on them.

  Nope. He liked the here and now, and when things got too deep or involved, he was out of there. Maybe he was more like his mom than he wanted to admit. His list of ex-girlfriends kept growing; many of them had since married and he was glad for them. It just wasn’t his thing.

  Phil greeted Jon and fulfilled his obligation as a good coworker to ooh and aah over Jon and René’s new son. Then he patted him on the back, told him he was a lucky dog, and excused himself with a perfectly valid reason. “I’ve got to pick up Robbie.”

  On his way out of the clinic, he glanced at Stephanie’s closed office door. What were the odds of him running into her at dinner again tonight?

  Nope. If he wanted to spend some more time with her, he couldn’t depend on something as flimsy as fate. He’d need a plan.

  Gaby had signed up to watch Robbie on Saturday morning. Maybe he’d make plans with Stephanie then. As for dinner tonight, he had a date with his kid brother for a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.

  Just seven more days.

  Stephanie was aware that René mentored nurse practitioner students from the local university once a week, but hadn’t realized she’d be taking on this aspect of René’s job along with everything else. Thursday morning she was shadowed by a bright and pregnant-as-she-was-tall young woman filled with questions. Maria Avila had thick black hair and wore it piled on top of her head, and if she was trying to look taller, the extra hair didn’t help. Her shining dark eyes oozed intelligence and curiosity and her pleasant personality suited Stephanie just fine. After a full morning together, they prepared for the last appointment.

  “If my next patient consents, I’ll guide you through bimanual pelvic examination.”

  Stephanie fought back a laugh at the student’s excitement when she pumped the air with her fist.

  “Have you done one before?”

  “I’ve done them in class with a human-looking model,” Maria said.

  Stephanie raised her brows. “That’s not nearly the same thing. I’ll do my best to get this opportunity for you. Now, here’s the woman’s story.” Stephanie recited the medical history from the computer for Maria. “What would you do for her today?”

  Maria sat pensively for a few minutes then ran down a list of questions she’d ask and labs she’d recommend. Her instincts were right-on, and Stephanie thought she’d make a good care provider one day.

  The examination went well, Stephanie stepped in to collect the Pap smear, and Maria was ecstatic she got hands-on experience. Fortunately the patient was fine with the extra medical care as long as Stephanie followed up with her own examination.

  One of the ovaries was larger than normal, and tender to the touch. It could be something as simple as a cyst, but she wanted to make sure. She also wanted Maria to feel the small, subtle mass that she’d overlooked when she’d first performed the exam.

  From the woman’s history she knew there wasn’t any ovarian cancer in her immediate family. She met some of the other risk factors, though. She had never been pregnant, was over fifty-five, and postmenopausal.

  “Have you had any pain or pressure in your abdomen lately?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “Bloating or indigestion?”

  “Doesn’t every woman get that?” the patient said, with a wry smile.

  “You’ve got a point there.” Stephanie grinned back.

  When she finished the exam, as she removed the gloves and washed her hands, she mentioned her plan of action. “I’m ordering a pelvic ultrasound to rule out a small cyst.” She didn’t want to alarm the woman about the potential for cancer due to her age, but finding any pathology early was the name of the game when it came to that disease. “I’ll request the study ASAP.”

  The grateful woman thanked both of them and on her way out she hugged the student RNP, Maria. “Good luck with your pregnancy, and keep up your training. We need more people in the field.”

  Her comment drove Stephanie to ask, “Are you in medicine?”

  “I’m a nurse.”

  Stephanie figured, being a nurse, the patient was already in a panic about what her slightly enlarged ovary might be.

  “Don’t drive yourself crazy worrying about the worst-case scenario, Ms. Winkler, okay? The nodule didn’t feel hard or immovable. It’s most likely a cyst.”

  The extra reassurance helped smooth the woman’s wrinkled brow, but nervous tension was still evident in her eyes when she left.

  Stephanie briefed Maria on possible reasons why she’d missed the subtle change in the ovary and offered suggestions on hand placement while performing future examinations for best results.

  They walked back to her office as Stephanie explained further for Maria.

  “The worst thing we can do is leave a patient waiting for results, but sometimes our job is like a guessing game. We have to go through each step to rule out the problem. Fortunately, modern medicine usually gives us great results in a timely manner.”

  “Waxing philosophical, Doc?” Phil’s distinct voice sent a quick chill down her spine.

  How long had it been since that had happened with a man? Not since the first morning when she’d seen him, to be exact. “Can I do something for you, Phil?”

  With a slow smile, he glanced first at Stephanie then at Maria, whose cheeks blushed almost immediately. What was with his power over women?

  “Yeah. You can meet me at Stearn’s Wharf Saturday morning around nine.”

  Was this his idea of asking her out? In front of the student nurse practitioner?

  “Uh. You sort of caught me off guard.”

  “Hmm. Like how you bamboozled me into being Santa?”

  Okay, now she got it. It was payback time. She grimaced. “If it matters at all, I abstained from voting.”

  “Warms my heart, Doc.” He patted his chest over his white doctor’s coat.

  But meeting at the beach for what was predicted to be yet another gorgeous Santa Barbara day sounded more like reward than payback.

  Maria cleared her throat. “I should be going and let you two work this out.”

  “Oh, right.” Stephanie felt a blush begin. What kind of impression would she make with her student, making plans for a date right in front of her?

  “Thanks so much, Dr. Bennett. You’ve been fantastic and I’ve learned a lot today,” Maria said.

  “You’re welcome, and I guess I’ll see you next week?”

  “Actually, that’s Thanksgiving. But I’ll be here the week after, that is if I don’t go into premature labor first!” The otherwise elfin woman beamed a smile, looked at Dr. Hansen again, subtly turned so only Stephanie could see her face, and mouthed, “Wow!” with crossed eyes to emphasize his affect on her, then left.

  Stephanie didn’t even try to hide her grin. Yeah, he’s hunky.

  Stephanie couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day on Saturday morning. There wasn’t a cloud in the cornflower-blue sky, and the sun spread its warmth on the top of her head and shoulders, making the brisk temperature refreshing. The oc
ean, like glittering blue glass along the horizon, tossed and rolled against the pier pilings, as raucous seagulls circled overhead. At home, the clean desert air was dry and gritty, but here on the wharf the ocean breeze with its briny scent energized her.

  She hadn’t exactly said yes or no to Phil’s proposition on Thursday. She’d said she’d think about it, and he’d said he was planning to surf that morning anyway, so come if she felt like it. Well, she’d felt like it, and by virtue of the glorious view, she was already glad about her decision.

  A group of surfers was a few hundred yards to the left of the pier, and though the odds were stacked against her, she tried to pick out Phil. With everyone wearing wet suits, it proved to be an impossible task.

  “Here’s some coffee.”

  Jumping, Stephanie pivoted to find Phil decked out in a wet suit, holding his surfboard under one arm and a take-out cup of coffee in another. He handed it to her as she worked at closing her mouth.

  He was a vision in black neoprene. The suit left nothing of his sculpted body to her imagination—from neck to shoulders to thighs to calves, every part of him was pure perfection.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking the coffee, unable to think of a single thing to say.

  “I’m glad you showed up.”

  “Me, too.”

  “If you’re still around later, I’ll meet you on the beach in…” he glanced at a waterproof watch “…say an hour or so,” he said, throwing his board over the forty-foothigh rail.

  She watched in horror as he hopped onto the wood post and dived into the ocean. Was he crazy?

  “Hey, no jumping from the pier!” a gruff voice yelled from behind. The white-haired security guard didn’t stand a chance of catching him.

  Stephanie gulped and looked over the rail just as Phil surfaced. He swam to his board, straddled it like a horse, looked up and waved. Yee haw!

  She shook her head, waiting for the surge of adrenaline to wane. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” she yelled.

  He laughed. “This is the lazy man’s way of getting past the breakers,” he shouted with a huge grin. “Enjoy your coffee. I’ll see you on the beach later.”

  He paddled off, and like an expert he caught the first wave, dipping through the curl, zigzagging, riding it until it lost its momentum.

  As she sipped her coffee, she watched Phil surf wave after wave, never faltering. He looked like Adonis in a wet suit playing among the mere humans. Today the ocean was only moderately roiled up, offering him little challenge and nothing he couldn’t handle standing on one leg. But it was still exciting to see him in action. She remembered several pictures on his office wall with his surfboard planted in the sand like a fat and oddly shaped palm tree, and him receiving a trophy from someone, or a kiss from an equally gorgeous girl. What a charmed life he must lead. Doctor by day, surfer by weekend.

  She checked her watch after an hour or so and began walking back to the mouth of the pier. After removing her shoes, she strolled along the wet, gritty sand as she watched Phil ride the curl of a strong, high wave almost all the way to the shore.

  He stepped off his board as if off a magic carpet, bent to tuck it under his arm, and waded the remaining distance to where she stood.

  “You make it look so easy,” she said, waving and smiling.

  “I’ve been surfing since I was twelve.”

  All man—hair slicked back from his face curling just below his ears, sea water dripping down his temples, broad shoulders and narrow hips—the last thing she could envision was Phil as a prepubescent boy.

  “Second nature, huh?”

  “Something like that. Hey, I know a great little stand that sells the best hot dogs in Santa Barbara. If you like chili dogs, I’ll get out of this suit and we can walk over there.”

  She nodded as he pointed to the street and the amazingly lucky parking place he’d managed to snag. They walked in friendly conversation toward his car, a classic 1950s Woodie, the signature surfer wagon, complete with side wood paneling.

  “Oh, my gosh, this is fantastic!” she said.

  “My dad gave me this for my sixteenth birthday, when he realized surfing was my passion.”

  “It’s gorgeous.” So are you.

  For the first time that day, Phil made an obvious head-to-toe assessment of Stephanie. She’d worn shorts, a tank top and zipped hoodie sweatshirt. “You’re looking pretty damn great yourself.”

  A self-conscious thought about her pale legs, compared to his golden-bronze skin, made her wish she’d worn her tried-and-trusted jeans, but seeing the pleased look on his face as he stared at her changed her mind.

  He unzipped his wet suit and peeled it off his arms and down to his waist, revealing a flat stomach, cut torso, and defined chest. Just as Stephanie began to worry about what a guy wore under a wet suit, he tugged down the garment to reveal black trunks.

  Oh, my. Seeing so much of Phil Hansen was making her mouth water.

  He threw a pair of cargo shorts over the trunks, ducked his head into a T-shirt, and in record time slid into some well-worn leather flip-flops.

  “You ready?” he said, shaking out his hair.

  “Sure,” she said, completely under his wet-and-wild spell.

  “Oh, hey, wait,” he said, closing and locking the hatch. “I forgot something.” He took a step toward her, pulled her close, and kissed her.

  His mouth was warm and soft as it covered her lips ever so gently. They were nearly strangers, and this wasn’t how she did things, but she couldn’t manage to tear herself away. Shock made her edgy…at first. The kiss, like a calming tide, swept over her head to toe, smoothing and relaxing her resistance. She wanted more and pressed into his welcoming lips.

  When his hands went to her waist, she tensed again. Their heat started a mini-implosion over her hips, sending pleasant waves throughout her body. She wasn’t ready to touch him back, except for right there on those inviting lips. She inhaled the scent of ocean on his skin, and breathed deeper, tasting sea salt as she flicked the smooth lining of his mouth with her tongue.

  Their connection seemed to stop time. Her hands dangled at her sides, more out of concern about where it might lead if she touched his broad shoulders. Though she wanted to. She wanted to explore every part of Phil Hansen, but they were in public on a busy street. This was no time or place for a first kiss of this magnitude.

  Still, she didn’t move, kept kissing him, savored the sweet, tender, first kiss. A basic, female reaction flowed through her core, warming everything in its path from the tips of her breasts down to the ends of her toes. She hadn’t felt this kind of heady response since she’d first fallen in love with her husband.

  Her ex-husband.

  Okay, that put the hex on this kiss. Aside from the fact that Phil was a good kisser—restrained, not mauling; gentle, not immediately going for the touchdown—and aside from the fact that she liked how he felt—really liked how he kissed—the thought of her condemning and unforgiving ex ruined the moment.

  She broke contact and pulled back. He studied her up close as if reading her mind. He wasn’t rude or persistent. He knew they’d had their moment and now it was over, yet his probing stare let her know he understood something was up, and that he’d respect whatever the barrier was…for now.

  What she saw in the depths of his eyes unsettled her. Besides everything his kiss had done, from heating her up inside to sending chills over her skin, she could read in his look that it was only a matter of time before they’d be doing this kissing business again.

  The unspoken promise both thrilled and scared her.

  Chapter Four

  PHIL had promised a world-class hot dog and he hadn’t let Stephanie down. They sat at a little metal table on the cement walk in front of a red-and-white striped awning on Cabrillo Boulevard. Still trying her best to recover from Phil’s kiss, she concentrated on eating the dog slathered in heart-clogging chili topped with cheese, and not the imposingly appealing man across the table…st
aring at her.

  “You said you started surfing at twelve?” she said.

  She could handle lunch with Phil. If she repeated it enough times maybe she’d believe it. Tell that to her pulse, which quickened every time she noticed new things about him, like how his sideburns were perfectly matched and at least three shades darker than his hair, with a tinge of red. Just before she took her first bite of hot dog, she wondered what his beard stubble might feel like first thing in the morning, and almost missed her mouth.

  “Yeah. I had a knack.” He smiled at her and her heart stepped out of rhythm. He had a “knack” for world-class kisses, too. “I was spoiled and my parents let me do just about everything. By the time I was fourteen, I got recruited for the Corona Pro surf circuit, and the rest…” he delivered another one of his knockout smiles “…as they say, is history.”

  “Growing up in the desert, surfing wasn’t exactly on my list of things to do. I’m more of a volleyball girl myself.”

  He raised one brow with interest. “Ever played beach volleyball?”

  She shook her head and reached for her soda. “Looks too grueling with all that sand.”

  “They play beach volleyball every weekend right down the street.” He pointed behind him with his thumb.

  “Oh, yeah, I remember I saw the nets the day I drove into town.”

  “So what do you say? Want to check out the game tomorrow?”

  “What about Robbie?”

  He sat straighter. “I’ll bring him along.”

  She gave him a hesitant glance; her throat tightened, making it hard to swallow the tastiest chili she’d ever eaten.

  “You see right through me, don’t you?” he said. “Truth is, I need some help keeping the kid entertained, and I’ve already run out of ideas.”

  “Well, don’t look at me,” she said, swallowing and taking another bite.