McCallum Quintuplets

by Kasey Michaels

  There were changes since her marriage, though. She was softer, more feminine, had stopped wearing those oversize tent dresses that hid her figure. And she wore her long black hair flowing down her back, not scraped into a matronly bun or tight braid. Happiness and a womanly confidence that comes from sex and knowing you’re loved glowed on her face.

  Man alive, it seemed love was in the air with half his colleagues taking the matrimonial walk down the aisle. Had someone put something in the drinking fountain at the clinic? Just in case, Zach decided he’d bring bottled water from now on.

  Voices buzzed around him, and everyone enthusiastically agreed that a celebration was in order.

  “I’m not sure I can make it,” he said. He usually made it a point to keep his distance from his co-workers.

  “Oh, come on, Zach,” Annabelle said. “All work and no play isn’t good for you. You were part of the team. One drink won’t kill you.”

  Yeah, but watching Annabelle all night, with her bright smile and shining green eyes, might.

  Chapter Two

  Annabelle stopped by the NICU unit before she left to join the others at the Lone Star. Beepers screamed constantly, indicating that a baby might be having a crisis, and nurses hurried to check. The kids were impossibly small but perfectly formed, the equipment around them enormous.

  April McCallum was tending to the quintuplets with her usual innate experience, all the while giving instructions to the nurses who would take over when she left. Every time Annabelle came into the unit, she was impressed by the efficiency, by the awesome miracles that came about in this very room.

  They’d had babies in here weighing less than a can of green beans. She was continually awed by April’s skill in changing minuscule diapers. And it was indeed a skill.

  She stopped beside April, smiled at the quints who were sprawled in little isolettes equipped with oxygen hoods, their incredibly tiny bodies hooked up to monitors and wires and IVs. They weren’t wrapped tightly in blankets like most newborns. Instead, they wore only tiny diapers, their chests bare to accommodate all the monitoring apparatus necessary to insure their progress in adjusting to their new world.

  Such a shame that kids this tiny had to fight so hard for life.

  “How are they doing?” she asked.

  “Good,” April said. “For preemie quints, they’re big babies, which gives them a leg up. They’ll be here for a while, though.”

  Which would be difficult for Maggie and Adam. Each day, Annabelle saw parents leaving the hospital with their arms empty, watching with sad, fearful faces as other proud, joyful parents happily whisked their newborns through those same doors, carrying flowers and balloons and struggling with car seats.

  She’d seen them trying not to stare, imagined that they were happy for the other couples but perhaps wondering if that joyous day would ever come for them. Would their tiny, premature babies with underdeveloped lungs and other problems ever make it out these doors? Annabelle could hardly comprehend how parents could go through so much turmoil.

  “How did you do it, April?”

  “Do what?”

  “Leave your four babies here every day and go home alone? Without them?”

  April sighed and smiled. “It nearly tore my heart out. But since I work here, I got to see them more often than most parents.”

  Eight months ago, when a teenage mother had given birth to quads, the girl had known she couldn’t care for four sick babies and had left them at the hospital with a note begging April to adopt them. April had fallen in love with those children on sight, as though they’d come from her own womb. When Matthew, the smallest, had been kidnapped, she’d been absolutely distraught until the baby boy was safely back in the hospital.

  All had ended well. April and Caleb McCallum were happily married, and the adoption of the quads—two identical boys and two identical girls—was nearing the final stages. They’d even accepted the birth mother into their lives, proving what an incredible capacity they had to give love.

  Annabelle dragged her gaze from the quintuplets and focused on the nurse. “Speaking of spending time in the NICU, what are you doing here? I know darn well you quit after you took the babies home.”

  “I promised Maggie and Adam I’d be here for their babies. My own little brood are in good hands, being spoiled by their aunties.”

  Annabelle smiled. “So are you going to take advantage of the night off and join us at the Lone Star for a celebration drink?”

  “I hadn’t heard about the plans.”

  “Madeline just suggested it in the waiting room. Caleb was there and he didn’t object.”

  “It would be nice to have my husband to myself for a little while. Does that sound awful?”

  “Of course not. You need a break every once in a while. Even if you only stay for one drink, you should come.”

  “You talked me into it. If Caleb agrees, we’ll be there with bells on.”

  “Great. I just love a big party.”

  “Will Zach be there?”

  Annabelle looked away, focusing on one of the kids. “Um, I think so.”

  “He was just in here a minute ago, right before you came in. He didn’t say anything about going.”

  “Actually, he was trying to get out of it. I think I persuaded him otherwise.”

  April grinned. “Figured you would.”

  “Oh, stop. There’s nothing going on between us.”

  “I have eyes, girl.”

  Annabelle turned toward the door. “Yeah, well, you better go get them checked then. I’ll see you at the Lone Star.”

  “I’ll be there…with my twenty-twenty vision.”

  Annabelle groaned. Was she that obvious? This wasn’t the first time her friends had teased her about Dr. Zachary Beaumont. She’d have to watch her step.

  After changing clothes, she made her way downstairs to the front exit of the hospital, waving to the receptionist as she let herself out the glass doors.

  A blast of warm air swirled around her as she left the air-conditioned interior of the hospital. She’d walked to work this morning, and stopping at the NICU prevented her from hitching a ride with anyone to the Lone Star.

  That was fine, though. The restaurant was just down the street a ways.

  Enjoying the balmy August air, she headed along Mayfair Avenue, threading her arms through her backpack purse. Now that the sun had gone down, the awful humidity had abated somewhat. Still, her cotton tank top clung to her body, and her jeans felt like damp heat magnets. At least the restaurant would be cool.

  She glanced up when a flashy Mercedes cruised by.

  Zach’s Mercedes. The tinted windows prevented her from seeing if he had anyone with him.

  Her pulse elevated, and her steps picked up a bit. Why was she so obsessed with him lately? She’d been working with him for eight months and had managed to control her crush. Now, every time she handed him an instrument or met his dark brown eyes over the surgeon’s mask, her knees went weak.

  She’d never been a silly girl, given to fantasizing about men, but Zachary Beaumont had obviously jump-started her libido—even though he hadn’t given her the slightest indication that he might be interested.

  Except with that heated eye contact they’d made after delivering the quints. But that could have been her imagination.

  And why would he be interested in her, anyway? Hospital gossip linked him to a different society girl every other week.

  Still, she was having more and more difficulty corralling her fantasies lately. Which was ridiculous. Despite the attraction, the man had three strikes against him right off the bat.

  He was a doctor, on call, and would never be home. Like her father hadn’t been all those years until Jolene came into their lives. Annabelle wanted a man who would come home to her every night, be committed to her instead of the job.

  Next, he didn’t have children of his own. After her fiasco with Peter, she realized that most men eventually wanted babies to carry on
the family name. At least that’s what Peter had made her believe. She’d made it her goal to meet a man with a ready-made family. Then if she got pregnant by some miracle, it would be a bonus rather than an expectation.

  And the third strike was—he was out of her league. Zachary Beaumont was champagne, caviar, five-star restaurants and Mercedes coupes. Annabelle was beer, burgers, backyard picnics and old Ford pickups.

  But, even though he wasn’t right for her, the man made her heart flutter and her knees turn to pudding.

  ZACH WASN’T SURE why he let everyone talk him into a celebration. It was that sweet, sassy smile on Annabelle’s face, he realized.

  He’d told himself he’d have one drink and call it a night. He had plenty of medical journals waiting at home that he needed to read, charts to review, questions to answer on the Internet Web site he’d designed.

  But each time he got up to leave, Annabelle’s laughter would drift across the room, or her curvy body would be gyrating on the dance floor with one man or another—sometimes with a group of women, even. She had a verve that he found refreshing, a verve he imagined only the young possessed.

  God knows, he’d lost that energy years ago.

  She glanced at him, caught him watching. Instead of looking away, some devil inside him made him hold her gaze. He knew how to draw a woman to him with a mere look.

  He saw her falter, hesitate, then that brilliant smile spread across her face, and a blond eyebrow lifted with such blatant, deliberate sensuality, he drew in a breath, cursed himself for letting his baser instincts get the better of his logical mind.

  She excused herself from the dance floor, snagged a beer bottle off a nearby table and sauntered to his table, her tight jeans and even snugger tank top outlining every curve of her body.

  Man alive, she made him want in a way he hadn’t in more years than he could remember.

  “Hey, there, handsome. How come you’re sitting here all by yourself?”

  “I was just getting ready to leave.”

  She sat down across from him. “Oh, don’t be tellin’ stories. You looked pretty rooted to that chair to me.”

  “Maybe I liked the scenery.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, then laughed and took a swig of beer. “For a minute there, I though you meant me.”

  “I did.” His voice was deep and low, nearly drowned out by the music. Nearly.

  He grinned because he’d rendered her speechless. That didn’t normally happen to Annabelle Reardon. She could talk a baby right out of the womb.

  “Well, then…uh, thank you for the compliment.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She laughed again. “Zachary Beaumont, stop baiting me. I’m not one of your curvy models who’s impressed with your title and money.”

  “No? Tell me, then. What does it take to impress you?”

  “Oh, things like loyalty and commitment.”

  He’d figured as much. “You don’t think I possess those qualities?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe you do. Your track record doesn’t speak well for the image, though.”

  “Why is it everyone knows so much about my track record?”

  “You’re handsome and single, Zach. Certain people have made it their business to find out.”

  “You?”

  “Heavens, no. I don’t pry into others’ lives. Now if they want to share with me, I’m happy to listen.” She grinned. “You want to share?”

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “I think I’ll keep my air of mystery.”

  “Darn it.”

  He lifted a brow. “Foiled your talk over the coffeepot, did I?”

  She sobered at that and gave him a straight look. “There’s one thing you ought to know about me right now. I don’t break a confidence and I don’t gossip. I’ll discuss what’s common knowledge, as long as it’s not gossip or won’t harm the other person.”

  He reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers. It was smooth as silk, her nails short and clear of polish.

  “I already know that about you, Annabelle. I was teasing you.”

  She turned her hand beneath his and gave a squeeze. “Too much beer. I didn’t mean to come off like a hornet. I can usually tell when someone’s joking. Sorry.”

  The feel of her hand beneath his poked at an ache inside him that he wanted to ignore. Looking around the room for anything to take his mind off the feel of Annabelle’s smooth skin and innate compassion, he focused on Madeline Sheppard-Russell and her new husband.

  “I’ve noticed quite a change in Madeline in the past several months. She’s more…”

  Annabelle grinned. “Feminine? Happy? In love?”

  “I guess. I’m not used to seeing her with her hair down. Who would have guessed it was so long—and that she had a figure?”

  Taking a swig of beer, Annabelle said, “I get to take a little of the credit for the figure. April and I took her shopping and updated her image. Got Ian’s attention, that’s for sure.”

  “Ian would be her husband?”

  “Where in the world have you been, sugar? Did I only dream that you work with the rest of us?”

  Zach was a little surprised at himself for asking about a co-worker.

  “I’ve always wondered why you keep to yourself so much,” she said. “We’ve all been a part of each other’s lives around here.”

  “It’s easier if I stay detached. If I’m personally involved, it could cloud my judgment in a crisis. A split second’s hesitation can mean life or death for a mother or a child.”

  “Has that ever happened to you?”

  “No. I haven’t allowed it.”

  “I think you’re wrong about yourself. If you care about someone, you’d be even more focused. That’s the way you are.”

  She was probably right, and for some reason, it bothered him that she could read him so well. “You hardly know me,” he said.

  Her smile lit her face, danced in her eyes, making her look even younger—sexier. What a contradiction.

  “It’s a gift,” she said and flicked her streaky blond hair behind her ear in an absent gesture. “I study people, listen to them. The next thing you know, I’m offering advice and wanting to fix them.”

  “I’m not broken.”

  “Of course you aren’t. A bit touchy,” she said, giving him a knowing look with a lift of one sassy eyebrow. “Let’s see. Who else don’t you know about?”

  “You’re out to prove a point, aren’t you? That knowing my fellow colleagues won’t cause me to flub the next surgery?”

  “How very astute of you—and after two drinks, no less.” She pointed to the crystal glasses on the table, one with only melting ice at the bottom.

  “It’s club soda.”

  “You don’t drink?”

  “Not if I’m driving or on call.”

  “Good for you. I’m neither—driving or on call.” She took another swig of beer, using her thumb to catch a dribble at the corner of her glossy lips. “So, let’s see, obviously you know Maggie and Adam’s story because you’ve handled their case. And you were in on the investigation when the teenage mother of the quadruplets disappeared and left the babies in April’s care.”

  He nodded.

  “Caleb was a true hero, marrying April so she could get custody of the quads.” She sighed, and her eyes went dreamy.

  “That’s why they got married? I thought it was a love match.” He had no business encouraging her. He couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “Oh, it is. Definitely. We found out a while back, though, that in the beginning, they’d both tried to convince themselves it was merely an arrangement. When Caleb’s sister, Briana, married Hunter Callaghan and had the triplets, Jackson started pressuring Caleb to do the same—marry, that is. Not necessarily have the triplets. Caleb figured he’d get his dad off his back and do April a favor in the bargain—it looked better to the social workers if there were two parents to adopt the quads. Neither one of them counted on fa
lling head over heels in love.”

  “That seems to be in the air,” he mumbled. “Or in the water.”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Zach realized that in addition to Annabelle’s ability to talk with hardly a pause, she was also a good listener, because she knew practically everyone’s life history—some of which surprised him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know this much about his co-workers.

  She wasn’t a gossip, though. Despite the green daggers she’d shot at him when he’d teased her, he did know that. The information she’d imparted was common knowledge. He’d just steered clear of it as much as possible.

  Contrary to her insistence otherwise, he still felt it wasn’t wise to get personally involved in people’s lives. He worried that soft feelings would cause him to lose his edge.

  Because at the bottom of his soul, hidden by a front, ran a deep well of compassion. He hoarded that self-knowledge like a squirrel in a secret acorn patch.

  Caught up in his thoughts, it was a moment before he realized the laughter he heard was coming from beside their table.

  Flushed from dancing, April and Madeline hovered over them.

  “Okay, you two,” Madeline said. “You’re having too much fun over here hiding in the corner. Get your tushes out on the dance floor.”

  Before he could object, April had him by the hand, dragging him and Annabelle in her wake and turning them to face each other.

  Annabelle laughed and gyrated that sexy body in the too-tight jeans. “If we don’t go with the flow, we’ll cause a scene.”

  He’d barely picked up the steps of the fast tune when the music ended. Saved, he thought, then realized he was doomed when a slow, dreamy ballad started immediately.

  Everyone on the dance floor took their partners into their arms, each having eyes for only their spouses. Nothing he could do but draw Annabelle close. He couldn’t just leave her standing here.

  The minute her body eased up against his, he knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.

  But did he stop? Hell, no. Instinctively, he pressed against the small of her back, brought her so close a written prescription couldn’t have squeezed between them.