by Kendall Ryan
“I was thinking about what you said—about needing to put myself out there more. I considered online dating.”
Mandy grinned. “But?”
“Filling out that long profile and answering hundreds of random questions was so daunting, and I didn’t like the idea of putting all my personal info on the Internet. It just didn’t seem necessary to exchange names with someone I merely wanted to exchange bodily fluids with.”
Mandy patted her heart. “Sometimes you make the feminist inside me very proud.”
I rolled my eyes. “So I figured before I went that route, I wanted to try things the old-fashioned way first. I got dressed up cute and went to a bar I never normally go to—you know, one of those young, hip, way too crowded places?”
She nodded, totally absorbed in the story. “A meat market is the technical term, yes.”
“I sat alone at the bar, sipped my drink, and made eye contact with a couple of cute guys around the room. A few minutes later one of them came up to talk to me.”
Her eyebrows wiggled. “And bow-chicka-wow-wow?”
I laughed. “Not exactly. He was cute, but he didn’t get my blood pumping. After I made an excuse about needing to go to the restroom, I spotted the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on sitting alone in a booth in the corner. He looked so unhappy, and I thought that was so odd—like the two of us were the only ones in the entire club who were just enduring this scene rather than partying it up like everyone around us seemed to be.”
“Hmm.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Then what happened?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, and it was almost as if I was right back inside that club, the bass of the music pulsing through my veins, the handsome stranger’s electric blue eyes locking on mine from across the crowded room—the hair on the back of my neck standing up when I realized he was even more attractive than I’d first realized—and then ducking my chin to scurry away—sure that no man in his class would ever been interested in me.
“A few minutes later, when I came out of the restroom, I was ready to call it a failed mission and head home. But Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy was waiting for me.”
As a delicious shiver traveled up my spine, I recalled the way he’d towered over me, even in my wedges, and the commanding edge to his voice when he asked if I’d like to get a drink with him. I’d merely nodded, my voice trapped beneath the weight of my libido.
“He led me to his private booth in the back, where we ordered another drink and talked.”
Mandy frowned. “If this story doesn’t end with you taking it up the honeypot, I’m out.”
I laughed at the unusual euphemism. “I’ll speed things up for you.” Mandy didn’t need to know about the way the conversation had flowed so easily that night, or the current of raw sexual tension snapping between us with every barb we exchanged.
“A little while later he asked if I’d be interested in going someplace quieter, where we could talk. He suggested his place, and off we went. His apartment was gorgeous—one of those glittery sky-rise places that towers above the city.”
“I’m jealous—did this hunk have a name?”
“Mason.” Just the feel of his name on my tongue provoked a response in my body I wasn’t ready for.
“Then what happened? Don’t spoil the fantasy and tell me his meat-stick didn’t measure up. There’s nothing worse than a tiny wiener, am I right?”
“It was an absolutely amazing night. Perfect in every way.”
“Sweet baby Jesus… You’ve got to give me more than that!”
I shook my head. “I am not telling my boss every gritty detail of the best sex of my life.” Only because if I remembered it with that much clarity right now, I’d soak my panties while at work. No bueno.
“Damn, girl. I’ve got to give it to you.” Mandy reached her fist out to bump mine. “I’m all proud and shit.” She faked a choked-up voice and had me laughing again. “Now I see why you’ve been in such a good mood.”
It was crazy what good sex and a couple of orgasms could do for the soul. It was two weeks later, and I was still positively glowing.
Mandy and I worked in silence for a few minutes, her happily clicking away on the keyboard as she replied to a couple of emails, and me completing the log to note the time I’d done the interior pen cleanup earlier.
That nauseous pit was back, lurking in the center of my belly.
“That’s weird,” I muttered to myself.
“What?”
I shook my head. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but…” I paused, my eyes fixating on the calendar in front of me as a cold panic crept down my spine. “No, it’s nothing. Couldn’t be.”
“What’s nothing?” Mandy pressed again.
“I just, I’ve been having these waves of nausea for the past couple of days.”
“Are you sick?”
“No. I feel fine during the day—for the most part. It’s usually just first thing in the morning when I get out of bed and then a couple of random times throughout the day. It’s probably a low blood sugar thing.”
Mandy looked skeptical. “Bren. I don’t mean to scare you, but those were my exact symptoms during my first pregnancy. You and this mystery man used protection, right?”
“Of course. We used a condom.”
“But your cycle’s late, isn’t it?”
I guess my wide-eyed glance at the little desk calendar had been sort of obvious. I nodded. “By a couple of days. No big deal.” But it felt like a huge fucking deal. I could not be pregnant—not by some one-night stand suave player who picked random girls up at the bar. No, no, no. That only happens in bad rom coms. My hands went clammy and I started to sweat. As the world spun around me, I considered the implications of having my perfect life imploded by an unplanned pregnancy.
Mandy licked her lips. “Listen. I don’t mean to freak you out, but maybe you should go in to the doctor—get checked out. Condoms break all the time. It’s possible you could be pregnant.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I can pick up one of those over-the-counter tests on my way home tonight if it makes you feel any better.”
Mandy shook her head. “Those tests aren’t reliable so early in pregnancy. Let me call my guy. Seriously, I have the best gynecologist in the entire city. I freaking love the guy. He normally has a six-month wait list for taking new clients, but a friend got me in, and maybe I can do the same for you.”
“What’s so great about the guy?” Call me crazy, but I had a hard time believing one could actually have an enjoyable experience at the gyno’s office. I barely tolerated my annual visits. That cold metallic feeling of the speculum, and that awful K-Y Jelly. Ugh. No thank you.
Mandy’s gaze softened and she got this faraway look in her eye. “He’s smart, sweet, and professional, and he just has this way about him that makes you feel comfortable. Everyone loves him. And his office feels more like a spa than a clinic. Low lightning, soft music, plush cotton robes instead of those horrible paper napkins they used to make me wear at my old doctor’s office. They have a freaking cappuccino bar in the waiting room. You’ll love it, I promise.”
“It does sound nice.” I chewed on my thumbnail. “And it would be nice to know, I guess, what’s causing this nausea.”
Mandy nodded and grabbed her cell phone from her back pocket. “Let me see if I can get you in next week. No promises.”
I waited anxiously while she dialed and spoke to the receptionist. She spelled my name and then waited on hold for a few seconds. Mandy’s eyes widened as she checked the clock. “Yup! She sure can. Thank you so much!”
“What’d they say?”
“They had a cancelation this afternoon. You’re in! You have an appointment with Dr. Bentley at two.”
“Wow. Okay, and you’re all right with me leaving early, then?”
She waved a dismissive hand at me. “Of course I am. Call me the second you know something.”
The nauseo
us feeling was back, but this time it didn’t have a thing to do with the possibility of being pregnant.
Chapter Three
Mason
“Nine pregnancies,” I told Trent as I leaned against the counter.
“Nine?”
“Yep, nine. And two sets of twins. I’m telling you, if I get one more pregnancy this month, I’ll win the nurse’s baby bingo league. Mrs. Ramirez cried for half an hour when I told her about the twins. She already has a pair at home.”
“That poor woman.” Trent gave a sympathetic wince and shook his head. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want one?”
The lure of caffeine called to me, but I shook my head. “Nah, I’m so behind on my paperwork. Gonna catch up before lunch.”
We parted ways, and I trailed down the fluorescent-lit hall until I reached the office at the end. “Dr. Bentley” was emblazoned on the door in shiny gold.
The name placard had been there since I was a kid, when I’d played in the waiting room and waited for my father to come out and join my mother and me. Then, when I was older, I’d spent even more time in that same waiting room, insisting that I go along for every little screening and test while my mother battled through ovarian cancer with one of the other doctors in my father’s practice.
And now? As an adult, I’d taken control of the office that had once belonged to my father and replaced his certificates and diplomas with my own—though I’d left the old baseball pennant that hung from the window, a memory of my good old little league days.
On my desk sat the pile of papers I’d been avoiding for a solid week, and as I collapsed into my worn leather chair, I let out a muffled groan. Almost on instinct, I checked my work email and pushed aside the little stab of disappointment when nothing even remotely personal was there.
Not that I’d expected anything at this point anyway. If I hadn’t heard from Bren by now, I wasn’t likely to. In fact, I wasn’t even sure she knew my name. I’d introduced myself once at the beginning, but some people were bad with names. I often was, forgetting them almost the second a stranger told me. Plus I had no way of knowing how tipsy she was that night. Of course, she hadn’t seemed drunk at the time.
My cock pulsed at the memory.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I tried to forget what it’d been like with her. Not that it did any good. I hadn’t slept a full night since we’d been together when she hadn’t found a way to infiltrate my dreams.
Speaking of dreams, if you want to be able to pay for that fancy-ass apartment and a bed to lay your head in at night, you better get on the ball with this paperwork.
After a quick email to my assistant, asking her to order my lunch in, I flipped over to the first sheet in the stack of papers—Mrs. Ramirez’s intake form from this morning.
Poor woman was right. I could only imagine what it would be like to have one baby, let alone to be saddled with two more when you already had a pair at home. Her husband had stayed strong, of course, but if I’d been that guy? Well, I think we would have made an extended stop at the liquor store after a doctor’s visit like that.
She was a great mom. I’d seen her during her aftercare when she’d had the first set of twins, and she’d been like a superwoman, on top of their every move, rocking one while patting the other. The parents would be all right once they adjusted, but damn, that was going to be a motherfucker of an adjustment. Hoped they didn’t like sleeping at night.
A gentle knock sounded on my door, and I looked up to find a slender brunette woman slipping into the room, a nervous smile on her thin lips. “Dr. Bentley?”
“What’s up, Jean?” She was the newest of the nurses and still referred to all of us by our titles even when we weren’t in front of patients, so I tried to make my smile extra friendly.
“There was a cancellation this morning, and we had someone fill the spot with a new patient. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I was wondering if maybe—”
I held up my hand. “No problem. When’s the appointment?”
“Um, that’s sort of the thing. She’s here now.”
I made sure not to wince visibly, knowing Jean was already walking on eggshells due to nerves. I didn’t want to make it worse. “Right, okay. Well, draw her blood, take her vitals, and get her into a gown. I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
Jean started to leave the room, but I called her back.
“The intake form?” I asked, and she let out a shrill laugh as her cheeks flamed red.
“Right, right. Duh! Here you go.” She dropped the slip of paper on my desk along with a medical history folder, and I glanced at the tidy, pretty script.
Ashley Matthews.
Pretty normal history and on the younger side. I flicked through the pages in her folder, then sent off the last few emails in my inbox before heading back down the hall. Trent was going to owe me for taking on yet another new patient. If he was smart, he would bring back a coffee for me regardless of the fact that I didn’t go with him.
Gently, I knocked on the door, and Jean appeared from around the corner.
“Dr. Bentley is here,” she informed the woman who was lying like she’d recently been hit by a truck. Her hair was slung over the side of the examination table, and her arm was flung dramatically over her face.
This ought to be fun.
Chapter Four
Bren
“Not feeling well?”
A deep male voice interrupted my nausea. My churning stomach was as insistent as a gnat buzzing near my ear, and I just wanted to slap it away. But in order for that to happen, I had to subject myself to this exam. Damn the comfy robe that Mandy thought I’d enjoy. If I had the usual paper sheet covering me, I could just pull it up over my head.
“Ugh,” I groaned, and the nurse piped in.
“Miss Matthews isn’t the biggest fan of…lady doctor visits.”
“Can we…uh… just get the uncomfortable part over with as soon as possible, please?” I added in a strangled whisper, still not removing my arm from over my face. Another flip of my churning gut caused a moan.
“No problem. I totally understand.”
Why did the voice sound familiar?
The doctor ran the water in the sink, and I peeked out from underneath my arm mask in time to see his rigid back. The snap of the rubber gloves sounded like gunfire to my sensitized body. I closed my eyes once again. God, could this just be over with already? There was nothing worse than the annual stirrups of shame, and now I had to be subjected to it twice in one year. And if I was pregnant? I’d have so many hands inside my hoo-ha, I could tattoo an open for business sign right above it.
“Please scoot down to the end of the table.”
That voice.
If I hadn’t been so miserable, I would have garnered the energy to peek at whoever was looming over me. Instead, it took everything inside my soul to move down until my bare ass was hanging over the end of the table. A hand gripped one foot, then the next, helping me place them in the dreaded stirrups, but I kept my knees pressed firmly together.
The light creaked, and then it snapped on. Its searing heat pierced my sensitive flesh, and I felt on display. Exposed.
Vulnerable.
“Okay, Miss Matthews, I’m just going to—”
“I’ve had an exam before. I know the drill,” I groaned. If I could have flashed a green light in his face, I would have. Anything to speed up this torture.
“All righty then, let’s not waste any more time.” With gentle hands, he pushed my legs apart. “Relax, this will all be over soon.”
The doctor pressed on my stomach and slid two fingers inside my vaginal canal. Just when I thought he’d hurry up and get it over with, he stopped. My heart raced, and my already sweaty palms moistened to the point where I thought they might drip onto the paper lining the leather exam table.
Why was he stopping?
Was something wrong?
With me or with
my possible baby?
He exhaled a ragged breath that spoke volumes. Something was definitely off here. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. White-hot panic seemed to have frozen my tongue.
A prickle of realization laced with dread stole up my spine and landed on the top of my skull.
“Bren?” he murmured softly.
My rapid breathing slowed to a stop as the tension in the room ratcheted up to Defcon Five.
“Yeah?” How did he know to call me by my middle name? Something about his voice sounded vaguely familiar. I racked my brain and slowly pulled the arm from over my face. If I could just get a good look at his expression, I might be able to gauge how devastating this situation had become in the space of a couple of seconds.
“Is everything o—”
My gaze met his, and the room spun. A wild, tragic swirl of vibrant colors took the place of regular vision. I struggled to sit up but fell back down on my back with a whooshing thump and a crinkle of paper.
No. Fucking. Way.
This can’t be happening. It can’t. God, what did I ever do to deserve this? The humiliation? The mortification. The…
“The form said your name was Ashley,” he said as a dose of adrenaline hit my system, causing my pulse to hammer wildly.
Shit. It was him.
And his fingers were still inside me.
Another wave of nausea flowed over me, and I shut my eyes against the light of the fluorescent overheads, begging my stomach to stay calm. If I could just control my breathing, I could get the hell out of here without totally losing it.
“Can you please remove your hand?” I managed.
“Right. Sorry.” The doctor slid his thick fingers from my lady parts and rose to his feet.
After at least a minute of ragged inhales and prayers directed at my stomach to not shame me any further, I managed to moan out, “My name is Ashley.” I scuttled back on the table and covered my legs. He may have seen it all before, but in the cold light of the exam room, I felt more exposed than I’d ever been. “I go by my middle name.”
