His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty (The Hollywood Hills Clinic)

by Lynne Marshall

  “Yes. Of course. Thanks so much.”

  Carey hung up having made arrangements with Mrs. Adams, glancing up to see Joe watching her skeptically. She owed him an explanation and told him exactly what Mrs. Adams had just said.

  “So, if all works out, I’ll be out of your hair, maybe as soon as tonight.”

  “Where is this place? Will you be safe?” There went that jaw muscle again.

  “I don’t know anything, but would social services send me somewhere unsafe?”

  “They’re just trying to put a roof over your head.” His fingers planted on and dug into his hips, his body tensed. He wore an expression of great concern, making his normally handsome face look ominous. “Safety might not be their number-one goal. I’m going with you.”

  Every once in a while, thanks to her recent experience with Ross, Joe seemed too overbearing. Yeah, she’d messed up lately, but she was a big girl, a mother-to-be! And she would be in charge of her life from here on. “I can take care of myself. Thanks.”

  His demeanor immediately apologetic, he came closer. “I didn’t mean to come off like that, dictating what I intended to do, but please let me come with you. I’d like to see where you’ll be living. I know all the areas around here.”

  Since he sounded more reasonable, she changed her mind. “Okay, but I make the decision. Got that?”

  “Got it. But first off you’ve got to know that you don’t have to move out. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

  “Thank you, but as a future single mother I’ve got to prove to myself I can take care of things. I got myself into this situation, I should get myself out. Besides, I’ll be starting the temporary job next Monday, and—”

  “Your salary won’t be enough to rent an apartment in any decent neighborhood. I’m not trying to throw a wet blanket on your plans, I’m just being honest.”

  She refused to lose hope. “I’m going to go see that apartment with Mrs. Adams and then I’ll decide.”

  “Can you at least call her back and tell her I’ll drive you over there?”

  “Okay, but only because it will be more convenient for her.”

  “Fine.”

  *

  That afternoon Joe parked on North Edgemont in front of an old redbrick apartment building that was dark, dank and seedy-looking as hell. He clamped his jaw and ground his molars rather than let Carey know what he thought. She’d made it clear it would be her decision, and he’d honor that. The only thing the area had going for it was a huge hospital a couple of blocks down on Sunset Boulevard.

  If they’d offered the rent voucher the first week she’d moved in, he would have encouraged her to jump on it. Having a woman in his house again, especially a pregnant woman, brought back a hundred different and all equally awful memories. Having to do things together, like shopping for groceries and fixing meals, was nearly more than he could bear. Plus, with Carey living with him, it seemed Angela had moved back in, just in a different form. So he’d concentrated on Carey being a victim and he was her protector. Keeping it clinical and obligatory had been the key.

  Best-laid plans and all, he’d gotten involved with her anyway. Why had he taken it on himself to teach her self-defense, and why in hell had he volunteered to be her prenatal class partner? The problem was there was too much to like about Carey. So he glanced at the dreary apartment building and felt a little sick.

  If she decided to take this place, he’d have to find her a car. Which wouldn’t be a problem with his father’s business. No way did he want her walking these streets at night, coming home from work and getting off the bus. Pressure built in his temples just thinking about it.

  He stood back and let Carey introduce herself to Mrs. Adams, who showed her inside. The term flophouse came to mind, but Joe kept his trap shut. Damn, it was hard.

  The single room had a tiny alcove with a half-refrigerator, a small microwave and a hot plate. How would she be able to continue with the nutritious meals from Gabriella’s class? He’d throw out the mattress from the pullout bed and burn it rather sleep on it, and the rusty toilet in the so-called bathroom made his stomach churn. Not to mention that the constant dripping from the kitchen sink would keep her awake at night.

  Caution was as plain as day on Carey’s face as she glanced around the place. But he already knew her well enough to know she’d try to make the best out of a lousy situation. Hell, she’d been putting up with him withdrawing every time they’d gotten too close. Probably walked on eggshells around him. But was living with him so bad that she’d choose a dump like this just to get away?

  Last night she’d said a real zinger, not realizing it, of course, but nevertheless her comment had hit hard. When she’d talked about her ex being insecure about his masculinity to the point of taking over her life, it had made Joe cringe. He could relate, especially since getting the lab results about him being sterile, and following up later with a urologist as to the reasons why. Was that part of him wanting to protect Carey? Was it some twisted way of making himself feel like a complete man again?

  “And you said you have a voucher for the rent here for the next month?” Carey asked.

  Mrs. Adams, a tiny African-American woman with short tight curls and wearing a bright red blouse, looked serious. “Yes, we can also provide food stamps and you can move in now or this weekend if you’d like.”

  Carey was about to say something, and damn it to hell if it meant he was waving around his insecure masculinity or whatever, Joe couldn’t let this fiasco continue another second. “What’s the crime rate in this neighborhood?” he butted in.

  An eyebrow shot up on Mrs. Adams’s forehead. Was she not used to being asked that question by people desperate enough to need county social services assistance? “I honestly don’t know. It’s a busy neighborhood. There’s a church right up the street, a hospital down on Sunset. There’s a small family-run market on Hollywood Boulevard and the apartment building is really well situated for all of her needs.”

  Carey stood still, only her eyes moved to watch him. Was it trust or fear he saw there? Was his being concerned coming off as overbearing? He hoped she saw it a different way, the way he’d intended, that he was worried for her safety. He subtly shook his head but she quickly glanced back at Mrs. Adams. “Thank you so much for showing me this place. Do I have to sign anything?”

  Joe understood she’d been trying to be a good soldier, stiffening her lip and all, but all it had done was turn her to cardboard. She obviously wanted to make the offer from social services work out, but Joe strongly suspected that in her heart she was scared. And he was pretty sure he saw it in her eyes, too. Those lush meadow-green eyes seemed ready for a storm. How could she not be afraid? Now that he’d identified what was going on with her, he could practically smell that fear. He just hoped it wasn’t directed toward him.

  She didn’t belong here. She belonged with him. Safe. Protected. That’s all there was to it. Was he being crazy, like Ross? With all his heart he hoped not, but right at this moment it was hard to evaluate his motives because the lines had blurred and there was no way in hell he’d let this happen.

  Joe stepped forward, unable to let the scene play out another moment. He reached for and gently held Carey’s upper arm, pleading with his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see a crazed, insecure man. He fought to keep every ounce of emotion out of his voice. “Stay with me.” Making the comment a simple suggestion. Then he stumbled, letting a drop of intensity slip back in. “Please.”

  *

  Carey hadn’t given in, though she’d wanted to. Mrs. Adams had gone on alert when Joe had taken her arm in his hand. The poor woman had probably thought he was the guy she needed to get away from. Carey had made sure she knew otherwise. No, Joe wasn’t scary, but he had a rescue complex and she needed to help him get over it.

  They drove back toward West Hollywood mostly in silence. True, the last thing she wanted was to move into such a depressing place, but rather than cave just because Jo
e wanted her to she’d asked Mrs. Adams to give her twenty-four hours to make her decision. It had also seemed to calm the woman’s sudden uneasy demeanor over the battle of wills between Carey and Joe about moving.

  And this had been where Joe had proved he was nothing like Ultimatum Ross. Trusting her decision, he’d agreed that was a smart idea, and Mrs. Adams had smiled again. Inside, so had Carey.

  The man was too good to be true, and she couldn’t trust her instinct to believe he was what he was, a great guy! She’d thought she’d fallen for a great guy back home, a man who’d gone out of his way to charm her and make her laugh, and above all who’d wanted to take care of her. Look where that had led. But the last two weeks of living with Joe had been little short of perfection. He was patient and friendly, didn’t have mood swings, like Ross, had just mostly kept his distance. Sometimes that had been maddening. Joe was tidy and helpful and—oh, she’d tried long enough to avoid the next thought—sexy as hell! The male pheromones buzzing through that house had awakened something she’d tried to put on hold since long before she’d gotten pregnant. Desire.

  When she’d taken off her blindfold and finally seen who Ross truly was, she hadn’t wanted to be engaged to him anymore. But he was such a manipulating and suspicious guy that she’d pretended to be sexually interested just enough to keep him off the scent. She’d intended to leave him. Had made plans for it, too. Then the unthinkable had happened and she’d gotten pregnant. The only thing she could figure was she’d missed a birth-control pill. Ross had hated hearing that excuse, and he’d accused her of wanting to ruin everything they’d had together. He’d even accused her of being unfaithful.

  And he’d gotten violent.

  How could she ever trust her instinct where men were concerned?

  She needed Joe to open up to make sure he wasn’t hiding something awful. Maybe she could use him wanting to rescue her all the time as a bargaining chip to get him to share something personal. She’d been kind of forced to tell him about Ross, what with her bruises and black eye and being pregnant and running away. But her attempt to get him to tell her about his failed marriage Saturday night had fallen flat. Maybe his divorce still hurt too much.

  “If you expect me to continue to live with you, we have to actually be friends, not just say we are.”

  “Of course we’re friends.” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “No, we’re not. I’ve shared some very personal stuff with you, and yet you’re nothing but a mystery to me. Friends know things about each other.”

  “What do you want to know?” He sounded frustrated.

  “Why did your wife leave you? What happened? What broke up your marriage?”

  He braked a little too hard for the red light, then stared straight ahead for a couple of moments. “If you’re thinking I was a player you’d be wrong. In our case it was the other way around.”

  Carey nearly gulped in her shock. What woman in her right mind would be unfaithful to a guy like Joe? What in the world was she supposed to say to that? “She left you for another man?” She admitted she sounded a little dumbstruck.

  “As opposed to a woman?” He gave an ironic laugh and glanced at her with challenge in his eyes. “I guess that might have hurt even more, but yes to your question. It was another man.” He could have been testifying in court by his businesslike manner. Just the facts, ma’am.

  So Joe was one of the walking wounded, like her. “I’m so sorry.” It was probably a lot easier for him to assign himself the role of protector than to open the door to getting involved with another woman. Especially a vulnerable person like her. Joe had proved to be wise on top of all his other wonderful assets.

  Though she knew without a doubt what had gone down today, looking at the apartment, was on a completely different level. Joe had asked her to stay. She’d seen from that touch of desperation in his eyes that he’d meant it, too. She didn’t have a clue if once upon a time he’d asked his wife to stay and she’d left anyway, but right at this instant Carey made a decision.

  No way would she be another woman walking out on Joseph Matthews. “May I borrow your cell phone?”

  While driving, he fished in his pocket and handed it to her. She looked in her purse for the business card. “Hello, Mrs. Adams? This is Carey Spencer. Yes, hi. About that apartment, I am so grateful for the rent voucher and the offer of food stamps, but I have decided to stay where I am.”

  Not another word was spoken on the drive home, but Carey could have sworn the built-up tension in the car had instantly dissipated as if she’d rolled down the window and let the Santa Ana winds blow it all away.

  *

  The following Monday Carey started her new job as a substitute ward clerk and couldn’t hide her elation over working again. More importantly, the California Board of Registered Nurses assured her she’d get her RN license in a couple more weeks, just in time to apply for another job, this one as an RN, after the vacationing ward clerk came back. Life was definitely looking up.

  The evening shift on the medical/surgical unit was nonstop with admissions and discharges, and she was grateful she’d spent a couple of afternoons learning the computer software and clinic routine with the current ward clerk the week before she’d left.

  Joe had offered to rent her a car, but she didn’t feel ready to drive the streets of Los Angeles, especially those winding roads in the Hollywood Hills, just yet, so Joe had reworked things and scheduled himself on evening shifts so he could bring her to work and back.

  She sat transfixed before the computer at the nurses’ station, deciphering the admitting orders from Dr. Rothsberg for a twenty-eight-year-old starlet who’d been intermittently starving and binging herself then herbal detoxing for the last several years, until now her liver showed signs of giving out. She’d been admitted with a general diagnosis of fever, malaise and abdominal tenderness. Though bone thin everywhere else, her abdomen looked to be the same size as Carey’s, but the actress wasn’t pregnant.

  Carey had arranged for the ultrasound and CT studies for the next day, and had moved on to requesting a low-sodium diet from the hospital dietary department, which had a master chef. She could vouch for the great food with a couple of memorable meals she’d had during her stay. The patient would probably never notice the lack of salt amidst a perfect blend of fresh herbs and spices. Then she reminded the admitting nurse that her patient was on total bed rest. She went ahead and read Dr. Rothsberg’s analysis and realized therapeutic paracentesis was likely in the petite Hollywood personality’s future.

  Deep in her work, she glanced up to find Joe smiling at her. “I brought you something,” he said, then handed her a brown bag with something inside that smelled out of this world.

  She stood to take the bag over the countertop, inhaled and couldn’t resist. “Mmm, what is it?”

  “Your dinner. I was on a call in the vicinity of Fairfax, so I got you one of those deli sandwiches you gobbled down the last time we were there.”

  “Turkey salad, cranberries and walnuts with bread dressing?”

  “Yup.”

  “Including the pickle?”

  He nodded, as if offended she’d even suggest such an oversight.

  “Well, thank you. I’ll be starving by the time my dinner break rolls around.”

  “You’re welcome.” He got serious and leaned on his forearm, making sure to hold her gaze. “I’ve been thinking. We’ll have to get more organized now that you’re working and pack a lunch for you every day. We can still use Gabriella’s guidelines.”

  “Sounds good.” Totally touched by his concern for her well-being, she fought that frequent urge to give him a hug. Fortunately the nurses’ station counter prevented it this time. “But please let me splurge on things like this once in a while.” She held up the deli bag.

  He winked, and it seemed a dozen butterflies had forced their way into her chest and now attempted to fly off with her heart. Since she’d decided to keep living with him, he’d changed. He’d
become easier to talk to, and though he still hadn’t opened up he’d quit grinding his teeth so much. Truth was, the man could only suppress his wonderful nature for so long. Now she was the lucky recipient of his thoughtfulness and loving every second of it.

  “See you later,” he said, making a U-turn and heading off the ward. The perfectly fitting light blue polo shirt showed off his broad shoulders, accentuating his trim waist, the multi-purpose khaki cargo pants still managing to hug his buns just right, and those sexy-as-hell black paramedic utility boots… She guiltily watched his every move until he was out of sight. Wow, it looked like she didn’t have to worry about her sick relationship with Ross at the end before she’d run away, and ruining her natural sex drive. She’d faked interest and excitement with him for her safety. Now, with Joe, without even trying, the most natural thoughts of all had awakened some super-hot fantasies. Like the desire to make love and really mean it. What would that be like with Joe?

  “Uh-huh. Nice.” One of the other nurses in the area had joined her in staring at the masculine work of art as he’d swaggered out the door. How could a guy not swagger, wearing those boots?

  Getting caught ogling Joe made Carey’s cheeks heat up, especially after what she’d just been thinking, so she tossed a sheepish look at the nurse then delved back into the admission packet for the actress.

  *

  Joe went straight to the clinic’s paramedic station just off the ER to check on the EMT staff. He knew the emergency nurses sometimes got upset if the guys didn’t help out when things got busy. Joe was always prepared to intervene and explain that wasn’t their job, and the RNs didn’t need to get all worked up about the EMS guys sitting for half a minute, waiting for the next call. On the other hand, he’d insisted to his guys that if a nurse said she needed more muscle, and they weren’t doing anything at the time, they should jump to it and help out with lifts and transfers. Keeping RNs happy was always a good idea. He’d also taken to suggesting the guys hang out in their truck on downtime rather than at the tiny desk with two computers designated as their work station, so as not to complicate things in the ER.