The Texan's Royal M.D.

by Merline Lovelace

  “Are you serious?”

  “Very much so. We’d have to see a proposal that includes all the standard criteria, of course.” He ticked them off with knowledgeable ease. “A comprehensive rationale for the study. An assessment of the resources required. A detailed budget for the initial start-up, along with an estimated budget for the entire project. Biographical sketches of the people on your team, what you hope to accomplish and so on.”

  “Right.”

  Her mind whirled. Global Shipping Inc. had just made the question of whether she should switch from hands-on medicine to research ten times more difficult. Up to this point the possibility of participating in a major research effort with big-dollar funding had been just that—a possibility. Suddenly it had moved into the realm of probable. If she chose to go in that direction.

  “Would you make me copies of these slides?”

  She needed to study the data and think about the possibility of cross-fertilization with her research.

  “Certainly.”

  He hit a key on his laptop. A sudden whir sounded from the printer on the sleek credenza behind Mike’s desk. While he went to retrieve the copies, Montoya extracted a slim case from his shirt pocket.

  “Here’s my card. Please let me know if and when you’re ready to put your proposal together. I’ll be happy to take a look at it and provide input from this end.”

  Zia nodded, her mind still churning, and slipped his business card into her purse.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get back to abuelita’s before the kids have Kate pulling out her hair.” He shut down the laptop and tucked it under his arm. “It was good meeting you, Zia. Mike explained that you’re pressed for time, but if you can squeeze out another hour or two I know the rest of the family would like to meet you, too.”

  “Particularly Davy’s mom,” Mike added. “Eileen called just before you arrived with explicit instructions to bring you by the house if at all possible.”

  “Well...”

  Zia checked her watch, surprised to find the session with Rafe Montoya had lasted a mere forty minutes.

  Sarah, Gina and Natalie hadn’t left to go shopping until almost noon. They’d taken the twins with them to give Maria and the duchess some downtime. Zia suspected both women were on the balcony, their feet up and eyes closed for an afternoon snooze.

  The men would have finished their golf game by now but would no doubt hit the clubhouse before returning to the condo. Nothing formal was planned until this evening, when the family would follow the age-old Hungarian custom of celebrating Szent-este, or Holy Evening, with carols and a Bethlehem play using nativity figures.

  Once the girls were in bed, the adults would indulge in a little stronger Christmas Eve cheer. Tomorrow would bring church services, the extravagant Christmas buffet at the resort’s tony restaurant and the twins’ birthday party later in the day. If Zia was going to meet the other members of the Brennan family, it had to be this afternoon.

  “I guess I could stop by for a quick visit,” she told Mike.

  “Great.” He grabbed his hat and settled it low on his forehead. “Everyone’s congregated at our grandmother’s house. It’s only a few miles from here.”

  “I’ll follow you.”

  * * *

  Those few miles took them out of the canyon of downtown skyscrapers into what was once obviously a working-class neighborhood of small stucco houses. Property values must be shooting up, though, as newer and much larger residences appeared to be replacing the older homes.

  Red, pink and white oleander bushes defined front-and backyards, while hundred-year-old live oaks dripping with Spanish moss formed dense canopies. A heavy Hispanic flavor showed in storefront signs and churches with names like Our Lady of Guadalupe and Saint Juan Diego. Mike turned onto a tree-lined street and pulled up behind a string of vehicles parked curbside in the middle of the block. Zia parked behind him and got out, careful to avoid a hot-pink bike lying on its side in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “This’ll be Teresa’s,” Mike said as he whisked the bike up and out of the way. “She’s Davy and Kevin’s sister and the bane of their existence, the way they tell it. Here, let’s go around to the patio. Everyone’s usually out back.”

  As they followed a winding path, Zia admired the skillful way the original one-story stucco house had been expanded. The stone-fronted second story added both living space and architectural interest, while a glassed-in sunroom extended the first floor and brought the outdoors in.

  “Does your grandmother live here alone?”

  “She did until recently. My youngest sister and her new baby have moved in while her husband’s in Afghanistan. We’re negotiating with abuelita what’ll happen when Maureen moves back out.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have again?”

  “Three sisters, three brothers. Between them they’ve produced fifteen offspring...so far. And from the sound of it,” he added, cocking his head as high-pitched shrieks of laughter emanated from the rear of the house, “they’re pretty much all here.”

  Even with that warning, the noise and sheer size of the crowd in the backyard made Zia blink. Three little girls clambered in and out of a plastic castle while two others and a toddler made good use of a swing set. Several boys of varying ages played a game of tag with two joyously barking dogs. One was a large mixed breed, the other the small wirehaired terrier Zia remembered from yesterday morning. His owner, Davy, appeared to be suffering no aftereffects from his dunking as he raced after an older, near carbon copy, who had to be his brother, Kevin.

  Additional family members crowded the glass-topped tables and lounge chairs set under a pergola draped with red and green lanterns. Kids occupied one table, adults another, both groups involved in noisy board games. The rhythmic beat of “Feliz Navidad” rose above the dogs’ barking, shrieks of laughter and buzz of conversation. The music pulsed through a screen door that must lead to the kitchen, Zia guessed as she breathed in the tantalizing scents of roasting pork and spicy chipotle marinade.

  One of the board players glanced up and caught sight of the newcomers. Pushing away from the table, the brunette jumped out of her chair and rushed across the lawn.

  “Mike called and said you were stopping by, Dr. St. Sebastian. Thank you!” Disdaining formalities, she enveloped Zia in a fierce hug. “Thank you so much!”

  “I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time.”

  “Me, too! I’m Eileen, by the way. Eileen Rogers.”

  “And this is her husband, Bill,” Mike said, introducing yet another of his brothers-in-law. This one didn’t come anywhere close to either Mike or Rafael Montoya on the hotness index, but his warm brown eyes signaled both sincerity and a keen intelligence.

  “You have my thanks, too, Dr. St. Sebastian. From the bottom of my heart.”

  “You’re welcome. Both of you. And please, call me Zia.”

  “That’s short for Anastazia, right?” Eileen hooked arms with her son’s rescuer. “I looked you up on the internet,” she admitted as she tugged Zia toward the others. “You’re Hungarian, graduated from med school in Vienna and are just about to finish a residency at Mount Sinai.”

  “I think Zia knows her pedigree,” Mike drawled from behind them.

  Eileen ignored him. “You’re also the sister of the yummy Grand Duke of Karlenburgh, whose face was plastered all over the tabloids last year. Kate, Maureen and I all drooled over his picture.”

  “Thanks,” her husband said with a mock groan. “Just what the rest of us mere mortals needed to hear.”

  His comment almost got lost in a chorus of excited shouts. The kids—all ten or twelve or fifteen of them—had noticed the newcomers’ arrival. Like a human tsunami, they surged past Zia and Eileen emitting shrill squeals.

  “Uncl
e Mickey! Uncle Mickey!”

  They swamped him. Literally. Hung on his arms and wrapped around his legs. He crab-walked past the two women with kids dangling from every extremity. Zia laughed, but Eileen’s chuckle ended on a low, almost inaudible mutter.

  “Damn that bitch.”

  Zia sent her a startled glance. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry.” Color rushed into the other woman’s cheeks. “I shouldn’t have let that slip out. It’s just...”

  “Just what?”

  Eileen bit her lip, her gaze on the shrieking tangle of humanity a few yards ahead. “Mike is so good with them. With all of them. He’d make such a fantastic father.”

  A sudden, queasy sensation hit Zia. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. Her stomach muscles clenched, preparing to ward off the blow that Eileen Rogers delivered like a roundhouse punch.

  “I probably shouldn’t air our family’s dirty laundry, but...” Eileen’s voice flattened. Hardened. “It broke our hearts when his bitch of an ex-wife announced she didn’t want children. Broke Mike’s heart, too, although he would never admit it.”

  Five

  Mike could sense the change in Zia. The signs were subtle—a slight dimming of the smile in her exotic eyes, just a hint of reserve in her responses to his family’s boisterous welcome. He shouldn’t have been surprised, given how many there were of them!

  Interesting, though, that he’d become so attuned to this woman’s small nuances after only one night together. He did his best to wipe the erotic mental images out of his head as he introduced her around. Her every move got to him, though. Each time she hooked a strand of hair behind her ear or bent to catch something someone said or just glanced his way, Mike felt a tug. And each tug only increased his determination to get to know Anastazia St. Sebastian a whole lot better.

  She renewed her acquaintance with Davy and his terrier before Mike introduced her to his parents. He could see her relaxing a little as they welcomed her. It would be hard not to relax around Eleanor and Big Mike Brennan, given that they were two of the most unpretentious and genuine people on God’s green earth. And, of course, Zia had snatched their grandson from the treacherous waters of the Gulf. That put her right at the top of their list of can-do-no-wrong human beings.

  The shamrock-green eyes Big Mike had passed to six of his seven of his children beamed his gratitude. “You need anything, Doc, anything at all, you just call. What Mickey here can’t do for you, Eleanor or I or one of the others will.”

  Zia looked a little overwhelmed by the offer but accepted it graciously. “Thank you.”

  She connected with Mike’s middle sister, too. Not surprising, since the two women shared a common bond. Jiggling her nine-month-old on her hip, Kate expanded on that link. “I don’t know if Mickey told you that I’m a cardiovascular surgical nurse at St. Luke’s, here in Houston.”

  “He mentioned that you’re a nurse, but not your specialty. Cardio’s a tough area.”

  “It can be,” Kate admitted cheerfully. “My husband, Rafe, said you’re doing a research study on MRSA. Obviously, I have a vested interest in hospital-acquired infections. I’d love to sit down and talk with you about your study sometime. Maybe we could do lunch after the craziness of the holidays?”

  “I wish we could. Unfortunately, I’m flying home to New York the day after tomorrow.”

  “Too bad.” Her gaze turned speculative. “My brother hasn’t shown much interest in any of the women Eileen and Mo and I have thrown at him the past three years. Not enough to bring them home to meet the family, anyway. You’ve obviously made an impression.”

  “Obviously,” Mike’s youngest sister chimed in, joining the group. Like Kate and most of the other Brennan siblings, Maureen had inherited their father’s shimmering green eyes, but her red hair was at least a dozen shades lighter and brighter than the others’.

  As though uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, Zia smiled and redirected it. “I understand your husband’s in the military.”

  “That’s right. He’s army, despite Colin and Mickey’s attempt to browbeat him into going navy.”

  “Colin being the most obnoxious of my brothers,” Mike warned with a grin as he shepherded Zia toward the men waiting their turn. “Right after Sean and Dennis.”

  He made quick work of the intros to the rest of the clan. Brothers, sisters-in-law, kids all got a brief acknowledgment before Mike whisked Zia away to meet the clan’s matriarch.

  Consuela Brennan’s unlined skin and calm black eyes belied her age. To Mike’s admittedly biased minds, his grandmother still exuded an aura of quiet beauty and the convent-bred serenity that had captivated his rough-and-tumble Irish grandfather so many years ago.

  “So you are the one who saved our little Davy.” She framed Zia’s face with her palms. “I lit a candle this morning to thank God for His grace in bringing you into our lives. I will light another each day for a year.”

  “I...uh...thank you.”

  “And now, I think, you should sit here in the shade with Eleanor and me and tell us about your country. Miguel says you’re from Hungary. I must confess I know little about it.”

  * * *

  Zia chatted with Consuelo and Eleanor Brennan for a good twenty minutes or more. The mother-and daughter-in-law were very different in both age and interests but shared an absolute devotion to each other and to their families. Under any other circumstances, Zia would have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them better.

  Yet she couldn’t help sneaking an occasional side glance, observing Mike interact with his siblings and in-laws. Noting, as well, how his nieces and nephews all seemed to adore him. Cries of “Uncle Mickey, watch me!” and “Come push me, Uncle Mickey!” peppered the air. Each shout, every giggle and squeal of delight, seemed to reinforce his sister Eileen’s earlier comment. Mike Brennan would make a fantastic father.

  The thought twisted like a small knife in Zia’s chest. She shrugged the familiar pain aside as she said her goodbyes and wished everyone merry Christmas but it was still there, buried deep, as Mike walked her to her car.

  “You have a wonderful family,” she said, smiling to cover the ache. “I thought mine was big and lively, but yours wins the prize.”

  “They keep life interesting.”

  She fished out the keys of the rental and clicked the lock, but Mike angled between her and the door.

  “I want to see you again, Zia. Sure you can’t slip away again tonight or tomorrow?”

  She wanted to. God, she wanted to! With him leaning so close, his smile crinkling the tanned skin at the corners of his eyes, his body almost touching hers, all she could think of was how his hands had stroked her. How he’d kissed and teased and tormented her. How she’d given more of herself to this man in one night than she’d ever given before.

  She had a sneaking suspicion she could fall in love him. So easily. He was smart, handsome, fun, unpretentious and devoted to his family...which was the one thing she couldn’t give him.

  “I’m sorry, Mike. I need to spend tonight with my family. And tomorrow isn’t just Christmas, it’s also the twins’ birthday. Gina wants to make a big deal of it since the girls won’t have any of their friends from preschool to play games and blow out candles with, so we’ll all be doubly...”

  He laid a finger on her lips. “Leave it to me. I’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  Not if she didn’t answer her phone or return his calls. Trying to convince herself it was better to cut the cord now, before they got in any deeper, Zia shook her head. “Best to just say goodbye now.”

  He looked ready to argue the point but gave in with a shrug.

  “Okay.”

  Bending, he brushed his lips over hers. The first pass was light, friendly. The second set her heart thumping against her sternum. />
  “Goodbye, Zia. For now.”

  * * *

  He didn’t call to press the issue. Although Zia had made up her mind to end things between them before they could really get started, she had to admit she was surprised. Okay, maybe a little miffed.

  She spent Christmas Eve enjoying the twins’ almost giddy eagerness over Santa’s imminent arrival and the fact that they would share their birthday with Baby Jesus the next day.

  The evening blended so many traditions, old and new. With her eye for color and genius for party planning, Gina made the most of all of them. The tree, the carols, the twins’ construction-paper daisy chains draped like garlands at the windows. Stockings hooked above the marble fireplace for every member of the family, the hound included. White candles giving off just enough heat to gently turn the five-tiered nativity carousel, a reminder of the duchess’s Austrian roots and a precious memento from Sarah and Gina’s childhood.

  They celebrated the Hungarian side of the St. Sebastian heritage, as well. Zia and Natalie spent a fun hour in the kitchen baking kiffles, the traditional Hungarian cookie made from cream cheese dough and filled with various flavors of pastry filling. Delicate and sinfully rich, they made a colorful holiday platter in addition to supplying the required treat to leave for Santa.

  The highlight of the evening was the Bethlehem play orchestrated by Zia and Dom. The original folk tradition went back centuries, when children dressed in nativity costumes would go from house to house. Carrying a crèche, the young shepherds and wise men accompanying Joseph and Mary would sing and dance choreographed versions of the birth of Christ. Their performance would be rewarded with a treat of some kind at each house.

  The tradition had gone through many different variations over the centuries. Most Bethlehem plays these days were performed at churches or schools. So Dom and Zia had to improvise costumes and staging and conscript the other adults for various roles. The performance delighted the twins, however. So much so that everyone was exhausted by the time Gina and Jack finally got them to bed.