My Secret Wife

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Just do what you can as fast as you can,” Gabe said with a frown.

  While Maggie was on the phone with the next client on her waiting list, Gabe’s brother Chase arrived. As she watched her former fiancé, now a happily married man, mount the steps to Gabe’s beach house, which was just a mile or so from Chase’s own, Maggie thought how odd it was to have no feeling at all for Chase, except maybe a lingering warmth—the kind you had for a guy who had once been your boyfriend, but who now was merely a casual acquaintance. Had she ever really loved Chase Deveraux, surely she would have felt more for him now. But she didn’t. Which only went to show, Maggie thought dispiritedly, that she really didn’t know anything about what the love between a man and a woman should be after all.

  “Hey, Mags,” Chase said with a smile the moment Maggie got off her cell phone. “I’ve got a proposition for you. I want to do a story on this kitchen fire and a before-and-after photo-spread of the renovation for Modern Man magazine. Interested?”

  “I wouldn’t mind the free advertising,” Maggie said. The magazine Chase published was one of the hottest publications for men. A lot of women read it, too.

  Chase nodded, pleased. “Great. I’ll send Daisy Templeton over on a daily basis to photograph the work in progress.”

  The pager attached to Gabe’s belt went off. “It’s the hospital. Excuse me for a minute.”

  Maggie and Chase stepped outside on the deck to give Gabe the privacy he needed while talking to the hospital. Chase looked at Maggie curiously. “So what’s going on between the two of you?” he asked, abruptly becoming more protective older brother to Gabe, than ex-fiancé to Maggie. “Are you dating now or what?”

  Maggie had the feeling a part of Chase would have been relieved if they had been—it would have been easier on his male ego had she and his younger brother not been able to keep their hands off each other. It would have explained once and for all why she’d left him at the altar to be with Gabe. Because everyone knew Maggie wasn’t the type of woman to string any man along.

  “Gabe and I are just friends, Chase,” Maggie responded quietly. And not very good ones at that, Maggie thought, given the continuing sexual tension between them. The fact their relationship was unrequited and destined to stay that way made a strictly platonic relationship between her and Gabe all but impossible.

  “That’s too bad.” Chase’s disappointment was evident. Maggie knew Chase had hoped his forgiveness would spur her and Gabe on to a more meaningful relationship. “I want Gabe to be with his dream woman,” Chase said seriously. “And I’ve thought for a while now that woman was you.”

  “Well, it’s not,” Maggie said briskly, recalling all too well how swiftly and remorselessly Gabe had dumped her. “But thanks for caring enough to want to see your brother happy,” she said sincerely, relieved that Chase was no longer angry with her for the mistakes she had made when she was engaged to him.

  Chase rested his hands on her shoulders. “I want to see you both happy, Mags. As happy as Bridgett and I are,” Chase said firmly.

  “I want that, too,” Maggie said. She just didn’t see how it would ever happen with her and Gabe, no matter what Chase and his new bride Bridgett hoped.

  Chase then headed off for the magazine office, and Maggie got her laptop computer out of her truck. By the time she had walked back into the living room, which, thanks to the quick response of the fire department as well as the judicial use of a fire extinguisher on the blaze in the kitchen had remained unscathed, Gabe was just getting off the phone.

  “Sorry about that. I had a patient admitted last night. We don’t know who she is. She’s eighty-something and obviously confused. I was hoping the police would have been able to connect her with a missing persons report, but so far, nothing.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I hope so. But we have to figure out what’s wrong with Jane Doe first, and that’s not easy to do when we don’t have a medical history on her, and she isn’t able to explain to us how she ended up in the historic district with a sprained ankle in the middle of the night, or even how long she was lying there on the sidewalk before the newspaper delivery person happened along and found her. But she’s such a lovely lady I can’t imagine she could go missing for very long. So I’m sure it’ll all be worked out in a matter of hours.”

  Maggie frowned as she mulled over the dilemma. “You could always get the TV stations involved,” she suggested.

  “We will, believe me, if we don’t get some answers soon.” Gabe turned his intent blue-gray gaze on her. “And speaking of medical situations—how are you?”

  MAGGIE HAD BEEN HOPING Gabe wouldn’t bring that up.

  It was bad enough she had called him for advice and broken down in his arms; his pity for her had led to the infamous kiss on the beach that Chase had seen—and a lot of family turmoil between Gabe and his brother Chase. True, that conflict had since been resolved, but she was still embarrassed about the way she had bared her soul to Gabe that day. It wasn’t like her to reveal her deepest hurts or darkest fears to anyone. She preferred giving off a self-possessed, independent aura. No way was she a vulnerable woman in need of a man to lean on. Steeling herself against the kindness in his eyes, Maggie swallowed, and said, “I saw the physician you recommended.”

  “And…?” Gabe tensed as he waited for her reply.

  “I have severe endometriosis.” Maggie turned her back to the three Callaway Kitchen Construction trucks pulling up in the drive. She folded her arms in front of her and faced Gabe with as much courage as she could muster. “If I want to bear a child, and I do, very much, it’s recommended that I get pregnant as soon as possible.”

  Gabe looked first stunned—then accepting over the news of her impending parenthood. “Who’s the lucky dad?” he asked casually, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his slacks, as truck doors opened and shut and heavy work boots clopped up the beach-house steps.

  Maggie hedged, aware the next part was even more embarrassing. “I don’t know yet,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I have to visit the sperm bank this afternoon and pick one out.”

  Gabe stared at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Maggie pretended a great deal more insouciance than she felt. “It’s either that or the old-fashioned way,” she said with a confident tilt of her head. “And since time is of the essence and I’m not currently even dating anyone…” She shrugged her slender shoulders and let her words trail off.

  She could tell by the disapproving look on his face that Gabe was about to tell her what a mistake she was making. Fortunately, he had no chance to do so as they were joined by Maggie’s electrician, Enrico Chavez, his brother, master plumber Manuel Chavez, and her carpenter and cabinetmaker Luis Chavez. The three brothers were all in their fifties. They had worked for Maggie’s dad and mom for years, and now they worked for Maggie. Devout Catholics, family men, they were fiercely protective of her. They were also, after the sudden deaths of her parents the previous year, the only “family” Maggie had, and she treasured the way they looked out for her, just as she did her best to look out for the three Chavez brothers and their families.

  “Hi, guys,” Maggie said, as she physically aligned herself with Gabe to better make introductions and talk to her crew. “This is Gabe Deveraux. He’s a critical care doc over at Charleston Hospital, and it’s his kitchen we’re going to be working on here.” Glad to have something else to talk about, Maggie finished the introductions and then explained briefly what was going to need to be done, once the new design was settled on, and when.

  “What about the Hegameyer job?” Luis asked, concerned.

  Realizing she was standing almost too close to Gabe, Maggie moved slightly away from his tall, strong frame. “The Hegameyers have generously agreed to wait another four months.”

  “How’d you get them to agree to that?” Manuel asked, dark brow furrowing.

  “I promised to cut fifty pe
rcent off their labor costs. Not to worry though,” Maggie added hastily, reading the worry on Enrico’s face, “Gabe here is going to pay us double time for labor for the entire project so we’ll still come out at least fifty percent ahead. I plan to split the additional profit four ways, so we’ll all come out better off.” Her parents had taught her the first rule of running a successful small business was to treat your employees as well as you treated yourself. She wanted them all to benefit.

  “Sounds good to me,” Enrico said. Luis and Manuel nodded, too.

  “Well, I need to get going,” Maggie said. Before Gabe could delay her further, she rushed down the steps to her own pickup truck.

  “THIS IS ALL your fault, you know,” Manuel Chavez said the moment Maggie had driven off.

  “What do you mean?” Gabe turned to the three men in surprise. Now that Maggie was gone, her employees seemed ready to string him up by his thumbs.

  “If not for you,” Luis said practically, “Maggie would have been married to your brother two years ago, and probably would have already had a baby when her parents died last year. But because of your selfish actions, Maggie’s wedding to Chase did not happen. And now she’s in an emotional tailspin, without any family at all, and going against nature to have a child.”

  “She told you about that?”

  The Chavez brothers nodded. “We’re family to her.”

  As much as Gabe was loathe to admit it, the three Chavez brothers had a right to be concerned. Two years ago, Maggie never would have considered what she was considering now, even if she had been facing infertility. Two years ago, she had known babies should be conceived in love, by two people who cared about each other, not by strangers in a science lab. “What do you want me to do?” Gabe asked gruffly, doubting Maggie would listen to him even if he did try to talk her out of getting pregnant this way.

  Manuel’s dark eyes glittered in abject disapproval. “We want you to do whatever you have to do to make it right.”

  “And keep Maggie from making a mistake she will regret the rest of her life,” Luis added, scowling.

  Enrico crossed his burly arms in front of his chest. “We’re going to be watching you. Because no way are we letting you hurt our Maggie again.”

  That was just it, Gabe thought miserably. He didn’t want to hurt Maggie. Never had. But he—a guy who prided himself on helping people—had done so just the same. The question was, how could he make it right and get Maggie to come to her senses? The men who worked for her were correct—Gabe owed her that and more, for the havoc he’d created in her life.

  Chapter Two

  “What are you doing here?” Maggie asked in surprise as Gabe walked up to her in the crowded fertility clinic waiting room.

  She made room for him and he sat down beside her, his expression as tense and serious as her own. “I thought you might want some help screening prospective donors,” he said.

  Maggie wasn’t thrilled to be picking out a father for her baby at a sperm bank, but if she wanted to have a baby of her own, and she did, it was something that had to be done, before she lost her ability to have a child forever. She turned slightly so she could see the expression on Gabe’s face. Seating was tight, and her knee nudged his in the process. “Does that mean you approve of what I’m doing?” She studied him warily.

  Gabe shrugged his broad shoulders casually. “It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove,” he said quietly. “It’s your decision. I’m just here to support you in any way I can.”

  His words certainly seemed sincere enough, Maggie thought. Nevertheless, her gut feeling told her that Gabe wasn’t any happier about her plan than anyone else who knew about it. Everyone thought she should wait. Give love and the prospect of marriage another try. Unfortunately, Maggie sighed to herself, it wasn’t that easy finding a man she was attracted to physically, emotionally and intellectually. In fact, to date, there had only been one man who had caught her attention in all three ways, and that had been Gabe.

  Not that it mattered, since Gabe’s attention span when it came to women was notoriously short. According to those who knew him, Gabe hadn’t dated any women for longer than a few weeks, if that, since high school. These days, he got involved with women—like Penny Stringfield—who needed help. Which he selflessly gave. When they were okay again, he moved on to the next damsel in distress.

  Maggie had been one of those damsels in distress once, just prior to her wedding to Chase. She’d been having a lot of doubts leading up to the wedding that wasn’t. But only Gabe had seen those qualms for what they really were—the gut-wrenching realization that she couldn’t marry Chase because she didn’t really love Chase any more than Chase really loved her.

  She just hadn’t known how to tell everyone that, including—and especially—Chase.

  Had Gabe not seen her conundrum and stepped in to her rescue, encouraging her to speak what was in her heart and mind and then act on it, well…Maggie might well have married—and eventually been divorced from—his brother. Or at least she might have made it all the way down the aisle before coming to her senses and bolting.

  But Gabe had come to her rescue.

  And stood by her during all the social and family hubbub afterward, even going so far as to date her—twice—before deciding that that wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Maggie had been deeply disappointed—for by then she had developed quite a crush on Gabe—but she had known, intellectually anyway, that Gabe was right. His brother Chase had been humiliated enough by Maggie’s actions, without Gabe and Maggie making the situation worse by dating. Or even being friends.

  So, for the next two years, they had pretty much steered clear of each other, seeing each other only occasionally and by accident. Until the afternoon almost a month ago when Maggie had realized her increasingly severe physical symptoms were not going to go away, and that she had to do something about her physical problem fast. So she had called Gabe, and instead of returning her phone call, he had dropped by her beach house in person to hear her dilemma and offer his professional medical advice. One thing had led to another. The next thing she had known, she had been weeping in his arms, and then they were kissing. Nearly three weeks later, Maggie was still thinking about that breathtaking kiss. For no one—no one—had ever made her feel like that. Nor did she think anyone else ever would. Which was, bottom line, exactly what had brought her to the decision she had made. She wasn’t going to marry anyone if she didn’t love him the way she should. And the only person she could envision ever falling in love with was Gabe Deveraux.

  Unfortunately, Gabe did not feel the same.

  Although he had recently professed a desire to date her again, she suspected that his urge was grounded in her recent troubles and would fade as soon as she landed on her feet. Then, as always, he would be off to rescue the next damsel in distress that came his way.

  Maggie had been dumped by Gabe once, albeit for the noblest of reasons—his brother’s feelings, and Deveraux family unity. She wasn’t setting herself up to get dumped again.

  Not that Gabe realized, even subliminally, that’s what he was doing. No, she was pretty sure he just looked at each problem—or damsel—as they came into his life, and then acted from his heart, without even thinking about the future. But it was the future, and her baby’s future, that Maggie was concerned with now. And in that sense, she knew, Gabe could assist her, the same way he had recently assisted her in finding a specialist to diagnose her medical problems.

  “Well, I could use your medical knowledge,” Maggie reluctantly conceded, after a moment.

  Gabe looked satisfied. “Then let’s go through the books together,” he said.

  A few minutes later, they were in a cozy room, with a round table and two chairs. They sat shoulder to shoulder, elbows on the table, as they pored over each page. “Here’s a good one,” Maggie said. “The guy is six-four, 220 pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes.”

  “He also has a history of arthritis in his ext
ended family,” Gabe pointed out.

  “Okay, what about this one?” Maggie moved on to the next possibility. “Five-eleven, brown hair, green eyes. College-educated.”

  “He has an aunt on his mother’s side who died of breast cancer.”

  Maggie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Well, everyone is going to have relatives who died of something!”

  Gabe leaned back in his chair and folded his arms against his chest. “It would be different if you were talking about marrying someone you were in love with,” he explained patiently. “Of course then you would just take your chances and hope for the best. But since you are doing this methodically and you do have a choice, you want to steer away from anyone who has a history of illnesses that can be inherited.”

  “Fine.” Maggie flipped through more pages, wishing she could disagree with him, knowing she couldn’t, because everything he said made too much sense. Eventually, she sighed, leaned back and said, “How do we even know these people are being truthful, anyway?”

  “Beats me.” Gabe shrugged his broad shoulders restively as his gaze meshed with hers. “I suppose you’re taking it on faith that they fill out the forms accurately. I mean, as conscientious as the people here at the fertility clinic are, they can’t personally look into the family health backgrounds of each donor.”

  “There would be privacy concerns—”

  “As well as prohibitive costs.”

  “So there could be things that aren’t on the list,” Maggie theorized, worried.

  “Probably,” Gabe agreed seriously. “Either because a candidate doesn’t know about a relative’s medical history. Or because he feels he would be disqualified from being a donor if the truth were known.”

  Maggie swallowed as the implications of that sank in, beginning to feel a little sick at the idea that she might be trying to bring a child into the world who was destined—because of heredity—to suffer from some terrible disease. “You’re not making me feel any better here, Gabe,” she said.