Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  Suddenly, an idea too absurd to contemplate froze her feet to the floor.

  * * *

  Tony Petrocelli took a deep breath, let it all out, then paced to the other side of the room. Shaking his head, he faced his friend and fellow doctor, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. He was still in a state of shock due to the latest incident during which a patient—a stark-naked, voluptuous, single patient—made a pass at him in his own examining room. He’d heard the nicknames people called him when they thought he was out of hearing distance—the Don Juan of Vanderbilt Memorial, the Italian Stallion—but the forwardness of some of his patients was getting out of hand.

  Scrubbing a hand across his face, he said, “Noah, are you telling me the board won’t give me the promotion unless I get married?”

  “No, that isn’t what I said or what they said, at least not exactly. And you don’t have to make marriage sound like a death warrant.”

  Tony strode to the window. Staring at the parking lot below and the mountain peaks rising in the west, he knew he could have dismissed Noah’s statement easily enough. After all, Noah Howell was a newlywed himself, and Tony had always suspected that married people belonged to a secret club and earned points for signing up their unsuspecting friends. He’d been ignoring his sisters’ attempts for years. But it was getting more and more difficult to dismiss his parents’ subtle hints about their only son’s bachelor status. And these blatant come-ons from his patients were becoming more frequent. One of these days, one of them could cost him his career.

  Turning around, he looked at Noah, who was lounging comfortably in a chair on the other side of the desk. Rubbing at a bothersome knot in the back of his neck, Tony said, “I suppose you’re right about one thing, Noah. My life would definitely be a lot simpler if there was a wedding band on my finger.”

  The other man’s laughter drew Tony’s eyebrows down. Noah Howell had a reputation for being responsible, dedicated and serious. Until a couple of months ago, he’d been no more prone to outbursts of laughter than he was to whistling. That was before he and Dr. Amanda Jennings had been thrown together during the blackout. Tony didn’t know what had been in the air that night, but strange things had been happening ever since. Some of them were sad and shocking, such as the murder of Grand Springs’ mayor, Olivia Stuart. Others, like Noah and Amanda’s surprise engagement and subsequent wedding, had been much happier events.

  “Think about it, Tony,” Noah insisted. “Amanda says there isn’t a woman in this hospital, single or otherwise, except for her, of course, whose smile doesn’t get just a little brighter when you walk by. Surely one of them has caught your fancy, if you know what I mean.”

  Tony scowled. “I always know what you mean these days, Noah, and frankly, I liked you a lot better when you had a shorter fuse.”

  “No, you didn’t, and I’m a little surprised you’ve noticed that I’ve changed.”

  Tony clamped his mouth shut on the first thing that sprang to his mind and walked straight out the door. Giving it a hard yank behind him, he spun around. And collided with a woman’s slender body.

  He heard a startled “oh!” and caught a glimpse of Beth Kent’s auburn hair and wide blue eyes before his vision blurred. “Whoa,” he said, his hands shooting out to steady her. “Sorry about that. I didn’t even see you coming.”

  That happened to him a lot, but no matter what anybody said, he wasn’t really absentminded. He simply didn’t pay attention to the world around him unless it concerned him. And this sudden pulsing sensation pounding through the very center of him definitely had him concerned.

  “That’s all right,” she said. “It was my fault.”

  Her voice sounded kind of breathless, and made him wonder if her heart had jolted and her pulse was accelerating, too. He knew of one way to find out, but this wasn’t a private corridor, and Beth was inching away from him.

  No matter what Amanda and Noah said, not every woman’s smile brightened when he passed. His eyes had sought Beth’s often since the night of the blackout. Although his body always did its part, his heart speeding up and his breathing slowing down, the most he’d ever gotten from her was a quick nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, this was the closest he’d been to her in two-and-a-half months.

  Fortified by the memory of the brief brush of her body against his moments ago, and intrigued by the expression on her face right now, he said, “Unless you threw yourself at me on purpose, I don’t see how this could have been your fault.”

  Beth was accustomed to taking blame, and would have liked to convince herself that the reason her nerves were standing on end was because there was no reproach whatsoever in Tony Petrocelli’s eyes. Unfortunately, she’d never mastered the fine art of lying, not to others, and certainly not to herself. That meant her heart was fluttering in her chest for another reason entirely.

  “Did you throw yourself at me on purpose, Beth?”

  At a loss for something clever to say, Beth could only shake her head and stare. Tony Petrocelli was standing a few feet away, one hand on his hip, the other in his pocket. A white shirt that had probably been wrinkle-free when he put it on was tucked into the waistband of low-slung dress pants. His lips were full for a man’s and were parted slightly, drawing attention to his mouth.

  Beth’s heart thudded once, then settled back into its normal rhythm. There was no doubt about it. He had the looks, the style and, oh yes, the moves to unsettle a feminine heart. The question was, did she have the nerve to unsettle his?

  Good Lord, what was she thinking?

  He took one long, smooth step toward her. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze and drew on every last ounce of courage she possessed. Keeping her voice quiet so that no one else would hear, she said, “Although I didn’t actually throw myself at you, I was waiting for you.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  Beth was at a loss for words all over again. As one moment stretched to two, his gaze left hers and trailed over her body in that anything-but-subtle way men had. Before she lost all her nerve, she took a deep breath and wavered him a smile. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Dr. Howell. Perhaps I can help.”

  Tony felt a fast little jolt, followed by a rousing dose of pure attraction. He had no idea what Noah had to do with any of this, but he could think of one way that Beth could help. Moving even closer, he lowered his voice and said, “I’m listening.”

  She wet her lips, then glanced in every direction. Following the course of her gaze, he felt a tightening in his throat and a chugging in his chest. Doing everything in his power to let her set the pace, he whispered, “I think the coast is clear.”

  He could see her breath catch in her throat, could practically hear her thoughts screeching to a stop. For a moment, he thought she might kiss him, here and now. Instead, she lowered her voice to but a whisper and said, “I heard Dr. Howell mention that you could use a wife.”

  Tony went perfectly still, his eyes trained on Beth. Her auburn hair was pulled back, curly wisps framing a face that had gone noticeably pale. As if she read the question in his eyes, she finally said, “I, er, um, that is, I’d like to apply for the position.”

  Blood pounded through Tony’s brain. Through the roaring din, he managed to say only one word. “Position?”

  She nodded, her eyes growing more wary by the second.

  “Are you telling me you’d like to be my wife?”

  She nodded again and slowly lowered her gaze.

  He snapped his mouth shut, but still he couldn’t move. She’d knocked the wind out of him, and she hadn’t even laid a hand on him.

  His cell phone beeped. Incoming text: Dr. Petrocelli, please report to OB.

  The sound of his phone jerked them apart like a bolt of lightning, then froze them in a stunned tableau all over again. “Look, Beth, I don’t know what to say.”

  Beth had never heard of anyone dying of embarrassment, but she wasn’t so sure sh
e wouldn’t be the first. She moved backward, holding up both hands in a halting gesture. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just forget I ever mentioned this. And I’ll do the same.”

  When he continued staring at her, unmoving, she seized her opportunity and fled. She listened for the sound of footsteps behind her. Thankful that none came, she hurried down the stairs the way she should have done in the first place. At the landing between floors, she dropped her face into her hands. Her cheeks were on fire, and so was her pride. Mingling with her embarrassment and sheer humiliation was the deep-seated sadness that Christopher would never be hers.

  * * *

  “The doctors think Christopher will be ready to leave the hospital soon. Isn’t that wonderful?” Beth asked as she dusted a shelf of mining supplies and trinkets in her best-friend’s store.

  The soft clink and jingle of bangle bracelets was the only indication Beth had that she wasn’t alone in the room. “Jenna?”

  At the sound of more jingling, and nothing else, she turned around. “Don’t you think that’s wonderful news?”

  Jenna Brigante tossed her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and flipped the Closed sign in the window of The Silver Gypsy. Instead of turning the lock, she swung around, her gauzy skirt swishing around her knees. “Not only do I think that’s wonderful, but I told you it was wonderful the first three times you mentioned it.”

  “Oh. I must be repeating myself.”

  “I live in an old prospector’s cabin in the mountains with only crows for company much of the time. So if you think I mind hearing about Christopher, think again. In fact, if you want to tell me one more time, be my guest. And then, when you’ve run out of diversions, you can tell me what’s really on your mind tonight.”

  Beth folded her arms and studied her friend. Jenna looked every bit like the gypsies she claimed were her ancestors, from her big brown eyes to her low-necked blouse, all the way to the strappy sandals on her feet. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for with personality. She said she was thirty-two “springs” old, and had an incredibly straightforward way of saying exactly what she was thinking, not to mention an uncanny ability to read every nuance of a person’s expression and behavior. She was the only person Beth knew who could swear in four languages, and the only person who accepted Beth exactly as she was.

  Straightening a display of silver baubles and charms and necklaces, Beth said, “I saw Barry today.”

  Jenna made a derisive sound. “I suppose it’s inevitable. In a city of over sixty thousand people, you never run into an old friend or former classmate, but ex-husbands appear on every corner. How is old Barry, anyway?”

  Setting a string of Romany wind chimes in motion, Beth said, “He seemed all right. Better than all right, actually, especially while he was introducing me to his new wife.”

  “Aw, honey.”

  “Her name is Chelsea.”

  “It figures.”

  “She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

  “What a jerk. Want me to put a curse on him? I could make his member fall off. Just say the word.”

  Beth almost smiled in spite of herself. “You don’t have to do that on my account.”

  “Believe me, it would be no trouble.”

  Moving on to a glass case that held the more expensive silver jewelry mined and designed with Jenna’s own hands, Beth said, “Did I mention that they’re expecting a baby in three months?”

  “As a matter of fact, you didn’t. It must have slipped your mind.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. Subtle, Jenna wasn’t.

  “That Barry always was a fast worker, wasn’t he?” Jenna sputtered. “Didn’t even wait for the divorce to be final. Of course, this means my curse would be a little late. I could still do it, but now it would be more for enjoyment than actual revenge.”

  After a momentary silence, Jenna said, “Did it hurt? Running into Barry, I mean. Is that why you’re so quiet tonight?”

  Beth moved on to the next display. “It’s nothing I won’t get over, if that’s what you mean. It just hasn’t been a red-letter day, that’s all. I had an appointment with Mrs. Donahue at Social Services right after work. She told me she’d love to let me adopt Christopher, but those silly old courts prefer two-parent homes.”

  “Geez, Beth, have you been breaking mirrors or walking underneath ladders or throwing black cats over your shoulder, or what?”

  This time, Beth cracked a smile. “Actually, there’s something else.”

  Other than the traffic outside on the city’s main thoroughfare, the room became utterly silent. Without turning to face her friend, she said, “I sort of asked one of the doctors at the hospital to marry me.”

  Jenna broke the long stretch of silence with a loud whoop of glee. “Bethany, honey, I do believe you’re finally coming out of your shell.”

  “It’s not funny, Jenna. And I am not.”

  “Sure you are, and yes it is. But tell me, what did this doctor sort of say?”

  Running her hand over the brightly colored skirts hanging on a rack in the corner, Beth said, “Actually, the only noise I heard was the thud of his jaw hitting the floor.”

  Beth didn’t turn around. Not when Jenna made a sympathetic sound. Not even when the chimes over the door jingled with the arrival of a late customer.

  “Uh, Beth?” Jenna asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Did this doctor you mentioned look as if he could have just stepped off a steamboat from Italy?”

  “You could say that, why?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, but unless doctors have gone back to making house calls, I believe your fiancé just walked through the door.”

  Chapter Two

  Her fiancé?

  Was that what Jenna had said? That her fiancé had just walked through the door?

  Beth stared at a shelf containing books of old Romany curses, wishing with all her might that she could make herself vanish into thin air. But there was no way out. She was in a corner, literally and figuratively. Sooner or later, she was going to have to turn around to see if Tony was really standing in this very store.

  “Bethany?”

  Her mind went blank for a moment, then scrambled like a radio picking up more than one signal. There was no doubt about it. That voice belonged to none other than Tony Petrocelli himself. She took a deep breath for courage, then turned around to face the music and the last man on earth she was prepared to see.

  She glanced at Jenna, who was suddenly all eyes and ears, then slowly raised her gaze to Tony’s. Although she couldn’t quite manage a smile, she nodded in greeting and said, “Dr. Anthony Petrocelli, this is Jenna Maria Brigante, my best friend.”

  Tony heard the regal formality in Beth’s voice, and wondered where she’d acquired her manners and her style. He didn’t doubt that she was strong; nurses had to be—in spirit and in body. But even the grouchiest nurses at Vanderbilt Memorial could flirt with the best of them. He enjoyed playing along, but he’d never had any trouble dismissing the overtures as fun, and nothing more. Beth Kent had intriguing looks and a willowy body that rivaled any nurse’s in the building. Yet he’d never seen her so much as wink at one of the doctors. She obviously didn’t believe in small talk or casual flirtations. Oh, no. She’d cut straight to the quick when she’d asked him to marry her, in so many words. And he simply hadn’t been able to dismiss that.

  Tony cast a sideways glance at the dark-haired woman who was watching him openly. Jenna Maria Brigante, he thought to himself. Oh, boy. A woman with three names always spelled trouble. “Brigante,” he repeated. “Is that Italian?”

  Her eyes danced with a peculiar light, her hair swishing as she shook her head. “Romanian Gypsy.”

  He cocked his head slightly. “That would explain how you knew that I was a doctor.”

  The woman stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Bethany,” she exclaimed, “I do believe your taste is improving.
”

  Jenna Maria Brigante obviously didn’t let a man’s size intimidate her. She raised her chin and stared him down, pointing one red-tipped finger directly at him. “Since you and Beth undoubtedly have a lot to talk about, I’m going to let her lock up here and I’ll leave you two alone. But I’m warning you. If you hurt her, you won’t like the repercussions.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. With a significant lift of his brows, he said, “Believe me, any curse you put on me would be pale compared to what my Grandma Rosa would do to me.”

  Obviously satisfied with his statement and with what she saw in his eyes, Jenna turned to leave. At the door, she said, “Call me later, Beth. I want details. Lots and lots of details.”

  The moment she opened the door, the room came alive with the faint purl of a dozen different wind chimes. She cast one more long look over her shoulder without saying a word. With a rustle of skirts and the rattle of the door, she was gone, and he and Bethany were alone.

  Glancing from Beth to the airy scarves draped over a pole covered with climbing ivy, he said, “Interesting place. Is your friend really a Gypsy?”

  That won him her first smile of the evening, which in turn sent a shock of attraction chugging through his bloodstream all over again. This was crazy. The fact that he was here was crazy. He didn’t believe in Romany curses, and he couldn’t believe an honest-to-goodness nurse did, either. So it wasn’t a hex or a magical spell that drew him closer. It was intrigue, and quite possibly the strongest flare of desire he’d experienced in his entire life.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  Tony raked his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just say that Jenna Maria Brigante was less formidable than the super in your building.”

  “So you’ve met Mr. Willoughby.”

  “Oh, I’ve met him, all right. But I have to tell you that it was easier to convince a first-time mother that she could deliver a nine-pound baby than it was to convince Mr. Willoughby that I’m not Jack the Ripper.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, for what, he didn’t know. He’d seen her in her nursing uniform at the hospital, and he’d imagined her wearing nothing at all in his fantasies, but this was the first time he’d seen her exactly like this. She was wearing jeans and a black tank top, her dark auburn hair waving past her shoulders. He didn’t know how she did it, how she managed to pull off looking sexy and regal at the same time. It was one helluva potent combination.