Czytaj książkę: «Unexpectedly Expecting!»
Just like the townsfolk said, Nora Darby was prickly, all right,
Stephen thought. But maybe he needed a good challenge in his life. Imagining Nora yielding to him, hissing even as she purred, stirred his blood.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
Nora looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted purple horns and a tail. “I don’t date.” The word was laced with contempt.
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Finally she simply hurried toward the door.
Stephen watched her go. He wasn’t looking for the love of his life. He’d had that once and lost her. Sassy Nora Darby wasn’t looking for anything permanent, either. But maybe they could find a way to help each other.
Because if she didn’t date, she didn’t get a chance to do…other things.
And watching her move had told Stephen she would probably do those other things very, very well….
Unexpectedly Expecting!
Susan Mallery
To Maureen Child, a gifted writer and a great friend. Your wit, charm and general mouthiness were the inspiration for Nora Darby. Kinda scary, huh?
SUSAN MALLERY
is the bestselling author of over thirty-five books for Silhouette. Always a fan of romance novels, Susan finds herself in the unique position of living out her own personal romantic fantasy with the new man in her life. Susan lives in the state of Washington with her handsome hero husband and her two adorable-but-not-bright cats.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Don’t even think about it, Dr. Remington,” Nurse Rosie warned. “Braver men than you have tried to scale that particular mountain and few of them have lived to tell the tale.”
Stephen Remington glanced at his nurse and frowned. “What mountain? Texas is flat.”
He knew that firsthand, Stephen thought. He’d driven across most of it when he’d moved to Lone Star Canyon from Boston six months before. Texas was big and flat and everything he’d hoped it would be when he’d left his job running an urban emergency room for the quiet of country doctoring.
His petite nurse-receptionist gave him a knowing look. “I was using a metaphor,” she said with the patience of a woman long used to the frailties of the male mind. “I saw you staring out the window. It wasn’t hard to figure out what…or who…had captured your attention.”
She pointed out the glass window that fronted his generous office space. Stephen followed the direction of her hand and saw that she’d assumed he was spying on his neighbors across the street.
The Lone Star Canyon Medical Offices shared the downtown area with a couple of banks, three restaurants, a sporting goods store, several clothing shops and a hair salon known as the Snip ’n Clip. The latter establishment was directly across from his office. Normally tinted windows kept out prying eyes, but today, with the afternoon so dark and the shop so bright, it was easy to see into the salon.
He could see two people clearly. One was an elderly white-haired woman in the process of getting her hair lacquered for the week. The other woman wielded the can of hair spray with great style and generosity. He guessed that she was the one Rosie had thought he was admiring.
Stephen glanced at the tall brunette wearing tight jeans, boots and a cropped red T-shirt that exposed a strip of skin that included a very neatly tucked “inny.” Her dark hair fell in loose, sensual curls to the middle of her back. She moved with the sexy grace of a woman who can have any man she wanted without wanting a single one.
“Her?” he said, well aware that if he could see into her place, she could see out to his. Fortunately the woman didn’t seem to notice him.
“That’s the one,” Rose said. “Nora Darby. She might look all soft and sweet on the outside, but on the inside she’s about as friendly as a gut-shot mama bear. Nora doesn’t like men, and with good reason. I don’t want to burst your bubble, Doctor, but better men than you have tried and failed.”
“I see.”
Looking at Nora he could understand why they’d tried. She had it all—a great body with a pretty face. If she could speak intelligently on any subject, she would be perfect. Not for him, of course, but maybe for someone else.
“I’ll admit that she’s very attractive,” he told his nurse, “but you don’t have to worry. I’m not in the market for a woman—gut-shot mama bear or not. Besides, she isn’t what I was looking at.”
He pointed to the dark gray-green cloud that had been hovering on the edge of the horizon. Most of it was hidden behind the building across the street, but he could see the top of it, swirling closer and closer as they talked. It was almost as if a part of the sky had reached down to—
Rosie screamed and grabbed his arm. “Tornado,” she yelled, and headed for the front door.
Stephen frowned. He tugged free of his nurse’s insistent grip. “What are you talking about?”
“We have to get into a storm cellar,” she said frantically. “Oh, supplies. There’ll be injuries.” She glanced out of the window again and shrieked. “It’s nearly here.”
As she spoke, Stephen realized that the wind had picked up around them and that there was a peculiar heaviness in the air. Tornado? He’d heard about them, of course, but he was from the East Coast where phenomena like that occurred on the evening news, not in real life.
But Rosie’s panic was real enough. His normally unflappable nurse ran for the front desk and jerked the emergency first aid kit from its rack on the wall. Stephen took it from her as she grabbed his arm again and headed out the front door.
As they stepped into the street, he could hear the approaching sound of a train. Except there weren’t any train tracks in Lone Star Canyon. His gaze was drawn across the street. Not toward the very tempting Ms. Nora Darby, but to her elderly clientele, all of whom were going to have trouble making it to shelter in time. He shifted course and headed toward the Snip ’n Clip.
“I love this song,” Mrs. Gelson said as she admired herself in the mirror.
Nora tuned in to the sentimental song coming from the small stereo in the back of the shop.
Mrs. Gelson sighed and patted her helmet of white hair. “Makes me miss my Bill. He used to sing this to me.”
Right, Nora thought as she pasted a smile on her face. This would be the same Bill who left his wife and three kids to play poker two nights a week, regardless of whether or not there was enough food in the house. The fact that the money he lost might be needed for the phone bill or shoes for the kids had never occurred to him. And Mrs. Gelson hadn’t said a word in protest. The old couple had been married forty years when Bill had “gone to his reward,” as Mrs. Gelson had put it. At least the bastard hadn’t borrowed against his life insurance, Nora thought grimly. So although she was far from well off, his widow’s last days would be better than her years with him.
But Mrs. Gelson wouldn’t see it that way. Now that Bill was gone, he was a saint and Mrs. Gelson lived to tell stories about his greatness.
“You always said your husband was a romantic,” Nora said warmly, telling the lie that her client wanted to hear. Because it was kind and the right thing to do. Because most women seemed to have convenient memories where men were concerned. Not that Nora had that problem. She had an excellent memory and she never made the same mistake twice.
Mrs. Gelson handed her a ten dollar bill and waited for her two dollars change. Then she dropped one of the bills onto Nora’s station, gave a wave and started for the front door.
Nora stared at the single dollar. She was never going to make any money if she didn’t start raising her prices. Actually she had…several times over the past ten years. However, there were certain customers who couldn’t afford more, so she didn’t charge them more. There were the seniors on limited incomes. Debbie Watson, whose husband had run off, leaving her with four kids and a pile of bills. And nearly a half dozen others in similar circumstances.
“It’s only money,” Nora murmured philosophically as she pocketed the tip and turned to help her elderly client to the door.
Just then the front door flew open. A tall, sandy-haired man in a white jacket stalked inside. Nora recognized Stephen Remington, the town’s new doctor. Successful, single, yeah, yeah, folks had been singing his praises since he’d first arrived. She was deeply unimpressed and continued to drive sixty miles to a different town with a female doctor.
She looked at him now and was pleased that despite his wide hazel eyes and lean good looks, she was immune. As always.
“We don’t do men’s hair here,” she said sweetly. “You’ll have to go to the barber shop down the street.”
“What?”
She sighed. Men could be so incredibly slow, she thought, wondering how he’d made it through medical school. “I said—”
He cut her off with a quick shake of his head. “I don’t care. There’s a tornado coming. Everyone into the shelter.”
Before Nora or anyone could react, the warning siren went off. Sound exploded through the small salon. She swore under her breath as she glanced around at the full chairs. Except for herself and the other three stylists, no one was under sixty-five. They were not a wildly mobile group and the shelter was nearly half a block away, next to the bank.
“Jill, you take Mrs. McDirmity,” Nora said as she ran to the dryers and quickly raised the hoods. “Come on, we have to hurry. Tornado’s coming.”
As she spoke, the noise outside increased. She realized it wasn’t all from the wind and the sirens. Instead there was a loud roaring, punctuated by ripping, tearing and banging, as if the world around them was being torn apart. In less than two minutes all her elderly patrons were moving toward the shelter. Dr. Remington had an arm around two ladies, one with tightly wound curlers in her hair. Dust and debris battered them, but they weren’t hit by anything worse than a few small branches.
Up ahead Nurse Rosie stood at the entrance to the cellar. She hustled people down into the safety underground as quickly as possible. Jill raced by, pushing Mrs. McDirmity in her wheelchair. The doctor lowered his two ladies into the cellar, then called down for help. Together he and one of the guys from the diner across the street carried the elderly woman to safety. The wheelchair was folded up and pulled inside.
“Come on, Mrs. Gelson,” Nora said as she steadied her customer. The widow took cautious steps into the underground shelter.
Nora was the last one on the street. She took a quick look around, searching for stragglers, but didn’t see anyone. Her gaze lingered on familiar buildings and businesses. How much would survive the storm?
She sent up a quick prayer that there wouldn’t be any deaths, then stepped into the cellar. Even as she reached for the door to pull it closed, she couldn’t help pausing and looking back as the tornado swept close enough to take the roof off an abandoned building at the end of the street.
Long, tall, swirling darkness circled up to the sky. The sound was so loud as to be a vibration. The ground shook, the heavens moaned. She had once heard a tornado described as the finger of God, writing across a landscape, destroying without thought or plan. But she’d never witnessed the raw power before. It was amazing. It was—
“What the hell are you doing?” a male voice asked, just as two arms came around her midsection and jerked her into the semidarkness of the cellar.
Nora instinctively released the door. It banged shut. She sensed more than saw movement as someone reached up to bolt it securely. But what really captured her attention was the heat of the man holding her so close.
He held her in an awkward embrace—her back to his front. But that didn’t stop her from feeling the warmth of his body, or his strength. She was tall, nearly five-nine but he was taller. The arms around her nestled just below her breasts. When one of his hands moved, his fingers brushed against the bare skin of her tummy. She shivered. Not from cold or fear of the approaching storm but because…well…because—
Nora pressed her lips together and shoved the arms away. She didn’t know why she shivered, nor did she care. She took a step away from the man who had captured her so neatly, then turned to scowl at him.
Her gaze settled on the sandy-haired man in the white coat. He had hazel eyes, lean features and freckles. She’d heard him described as handsome, but she was immune. Stephen Remington, the town’s new doctor. Of course. No one else would have dared to touch her that way.
She arched one eyebrow, a trick she’d taught herself in junior high. “I wouldn’t have thought a doctor would have to resort to free feels,” she said casually, expecting him to get angry and sputter a protest to her assault on his reputation.
Instead Dr. Remington, new guy in town, gave her a lazy once-over, starting at her expensive boots and heading as far north as her breasts, then ending at her exposed stomach. “I wouldn’t have thought a woman your age would have to resort to dressing like a teenager just to get attention.”
“You mistake my meaning,” she said coolly. “I’m not interested in attention. At least not from you.”
She was aware of their interested audience. In the small storm cellar everyone heard every word. Nora wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She’d been stupid enough to stand on the steps, staring at the approaching storm. The doctor had simply dragged her inside so they wouldn’t all be killed.
Not knowing how else to end their conversation, she turned her back on him and checked with her elderly clients. The shelter was about twenty feet square, with benches along three of the four walls. There were enough supplies to last a couple of dozen people for two days, and a portable toilet was tucked into a curtained alcove. Everyone from the Snip ’n Clip had made it into the shelter safely. Her staff circled among their clients, offering hugs and words of comfort.
Mrs. McDirmity touched the curls of her new perm. “At least Jill had already rinsed out the solution,” she said with a slight smile that trembled at the corners. “I hope my cats are going to be safe.”
Nora settled next to her and took her bent fingers in her own. “You know how they love to hide under beds and sofas when they get scared,” she told the older woman. “That’s the best place for them right now. Instinct will keep them safe.”
Mrs. McDirmity nodded. “I know. I just worry. They’re all I have.”
Nora talked to each of her customers, then chatted with several patrons from the diner. She was careful to avoid Dr. Remington. She often felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t return the attention. As she’d told him before, she wasn’t interested. Not in him or any man. She’d learned her lesson a long time ago.
The noise outside grew worse as the storm passed overhead. Crashes and the sound of breaking glass competed with the roaring of the wind.
In the corner, Mrs. Arnold began to wheeze. She reached for her handbag, but couldn’t catch her breath enough to open it and pull out her inhaler.
“Asthma,” Nora told the doctor as he moved to the woman.
Stephen Remington gave her a quick nod. “I know. She’s my patient.”
Nora gritted her teeth. “Well, excuse me for trying to help,” she muttered under her breath, and hoped the storm would be over soon. If she had to spend much more time trapped with that horrible man, fur was going to fly.
Nearly twenty minutes later, they emerged from the cellar. Nora was one of the last to step out into the murky darkness that was just beginning to clear. The main street had been spared, so her shop was still standing. But two side streets looked as if they’d been crushed by a giant. Debris lay scattered everywhere, and there was a bright red pickup truck parked on the sidewalk by the hardware store. A bright red pickup truck that hadn’t been there before the storm.
The first light drops of rain fell, making her jog toward her shop. The storm was moving northeast, which meant the ranch had already been hit. She wanted to call and see if everything was all right with her family.
She caught up with a couple of her clients as everyone hurried to cover. She offered assistance in the way of a sturdy arm. As she and the last stragglers entered the salon, Jill put down the phone.
“It’s dead,” her stylist said. “No real surprise there. We don’t have electricity, either.”
Nora grinned. “I can fix one of those problems, if not the other.” She walked over to her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “Welcome to the new century. If the cell towers survived we should have service this way.”
She turned on the small phone, then handed it to Jill. “You’ve got kids. Check on them first. I’m sure they’re fine, though. Judging from the direction the storm is heading, I’ll bet it missed your place by several miles.”
Her stylist gave her a grateful smile, then began pushing numbers. Nora saw that Mary and Kathy had already helped their clients collect purses and coats. Everyone was instructed to stay home until power was restored, then return to get the rest of their hair treatment.
Mrs. Arnold, her asthma under control and her hair still tightly rolled in curlers, slipped a scarf over her head. “This will probably dry on its own,” she said cheerfully. “I’ll come back when it does and you can comb it out.”
“Absolutely,” Nora promised. She was about to say something else when she noticed Rosie running toward the medical office across the street.
Nora stepped outside. “Are there injuries?” she yelled.
Rosie paused to catch her breath. “About a dozen or more. Orchard Park is completely gone. There were young kids at home with their moms, plus the construction workers at the new places. Dr. Remington is assessing the injuries now, and we’re going to call in a helicopter for the worst ones. I need to bring supplies.”
Orchard Park was a new residential subdivision in Lone Star Canyon. It was only about half-completed with dozens of houses in various stages of construction. The homes were smaller and less expensive—perfect starter places, which meant plenty of families with young children.
“Do you need another pair of hands?” Nora asked. “Everyone here is fine. I don’t know first aid but I can follow directions.”
Rosie gave her a grateful smile. “Absolutely. Come help me carry stuff back, then we’ll put you to work.”
Nora quickly made arrangements for the salon. Jill was going home to check on her kids. Mary would walk a couple of their clients home while Kathy stayed at the salon. That taken care of, Nora hurried toward the medical offices and prayed that the injuries were minor. For herself she also prayed that she didn’t have to see too much blood. She could verbally take down any man anywhere, but the sight of blood sent her to her knees.
The helicopter lifted off with a rush of wind that reminded Stephen of the tornado. When the pilot had turned west, toward the county hospital, Stephen shifted mental gears, releasing that patient to the care of the Medi-Vac team and focusing on the few people he had left to treat. Nurse Rosie, efficient as always, had helped him evaluate injuries. She’d collected supplies, found family members and had generally acted like the professional he knew her to be. What was surprising was her assistant.
When Rosie had run back to the office for more supplies, she’d returned with an armful of necessities and Nora Darby. The beautiful twenty-something brunette didn’t know squat about being a nurse, but she pitched in wherever Rosie said, applying pressure, irrigating cuts, holding hands, offering words of comfort. She’d gone pale a few times, but otherwise had been a trouper. She might have a dangerous mouth on her, but she also had plenty of backbone and compassion.
He walked to the makeshift first aid station he and Rosie had set up in the parking lot of Kroger’s market. The long awning provided cover from the rain that continued to fall. Stephen checked stitches in the index finger of a sobbing four-year-old, then removed glass from a young man’s eye.
“You’ll need to come back in the morning,” he told the carpenter. “I’ll take off the patch and we’ll do a quick vision test. But from what I can see, you’re going to be just fine.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
The two men shook hands. Rosie walked over and smiled at the patient, then looked at Stephen. “We’re about done here,” she said. “Do you want to head back to the office in case we get walk-ins? I can stay behind and gather the equipment.”
“I’ll help,” said one of the construction guys who had brought in his buddy. “We can put everything in my truck.”
Stephen figured his generosity had less to do with an altruistic nature and more to do with Rosie’s curvy, petite figure and warm brown eyes. In the past six months he’d learned that his incredibly efficient nurse was in her mid-thirties, divorced and kept to herself in her spare time. Sort of like Nora, he thought, eyeing the tall woman talking to a young mother with two scared but uninjured kids. Except Rosie always had a kind word for everyone and Nora had a chip on her shoulder the size of an SUV.
He and Rosie were about the same age. They were both single. He supposed that something should have sparked between them, but it hadn’t. They were work friends, nothing more. So far no woman had captured his attention—not that he was surprised.
He left Rosie with the calf-eyed construction guy and started walking back to the center of town. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nora move in his direction, then pause as if the thought of them sharing each other’s company was more than she could stand.
“I won’t bite,” he promised, motioning for her to join him.
She raised a single eyebrow. “I wasn’t worried about you doing anything,” she said in a bored tone that implied whatever he might want to do couldn’t be of interest to her.
Stephen considered himself a sensible man, but for the first time in a long time he felt himself wanting to respond to a challenge. Even more fascinating, as the tall beauty fell into step next to him, he found himself intrigued by the woman. Who was Nora Darby and why did she hate every man on sight?
“Thanks for your help today,” he said.
“Not a problem.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “We were lucky. There wasn’t much damage in town. I’ve talked to my mom on the cellular phone and I heard that our ranch is fine, but I don’t know about the others. You could get a few more injuries from the outlying areas.”
He hadn’t thought of that. “Good thing we’re going back to the office, then,” he said. “People will look for me there.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, a pickup truck doing at least fifty rounded the corner. The vehicle nearly went up on two wheels. The driver spotted them and started honking, then slid to a stop in the center of the road.
“Doc, Doc, you gotta help!” An old man climbed out of the cab and raced around to the bed of the truck. “My boy. He’s cut real bad.”
Stephen was already running toward the tailgate. He climbed up and registered that Nora had followed.
A man in his late twenties lay stretched out on several blankets. His skin was blue-white, his eyes closed, and there was blood everywhere.
Stephen heard a faint moan from beside him, but couldn’t spare her a glance. “Where is he cut?” he asked.
“On the upper arm, by his shoulder,” the old man said. “I put pressure on it but the blood wouldn’t stop.”
Stephen saw the wad of bandages and lifted them. Blood spurted. He shoved the cloths back in place. There was no way to tell how much blood the man had lost. Too much, for sure. He was already in shock.
Stephen looked at the old man. “Drive,” he commanded. “We’ve got to get him to my office. Now!”
The father complied, hurrying to slide behind the wheel. Stephen opened the first aid kit he’d carried back and dug out several thick bandages. He replaced the soaked ones with a fresh one and ordered Nora to press down hard on the open wound.
The truck bounced through the center of town and screeched to a halt in front of the medical offices.
“Don’t move,” he instructed Nora as he jumped down and ran inside.
Less than a minute later he returned with two IVs—O negative blood and saline. When he had them hooked up, he traded places with Nora.
“I’m going to have to sew him up,” he said, looking at her for the first time since he’d climbed in the back of the truck. She was nearly as white as his patient. “Can you help me?”
She nodded, then swallowed. “I need about thirty seconds first.”
For what? he wondered. But before he could ask, she scrambled out of the truck, ran to a nearby trash can and threw up. As promised, in thirty seconds, she was back at his side.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No, but that doesn’t matter. I’m not going to pass out and if I have to puke again, I’ll do it over the side.”
She pulled on the gloves he passed her, then listened while he explained the procedure. When he handed her more bandages and an irrigation solution, she gamely did as he instructed. She had to pause to throw up again, but otherwise was as calm and efficient as Nurse Rosie herself.
It was dark by the time the ambulance had pulled away to take the man to the hospital. Nora leaned against the wall of the medical office and told herself to keep breathing. At least her stomach had settled in the past couple of hours. She hadn’t thrown up so much since a bout with the stomach flu three years before, and frankly she could happily go a lifetime without having it happen again.
But despite feeling weak and shaky, she was also proud. Even though her medical training consisted of knowing how to apply a Band-Aid, she’d been able to help today. She’d aided her community in its time of need.
She looked at the now-dark Snip ’n Clip and thought about going over to put everything to right in the shop. Electricity had been restored around five, so she could sweep and vacuum and…She sighed. Not tonight. She was too tired.
“How do you feel?”
She looked up and saw Stephen Remington walking toward her. He’d removed his blood-spattered coat along with his tie. Before she could answer, he touched her forehead, then reached for her wrist and took her pulse. What was more annoying than him touching her was the way her heartbeat seemed to flutter slightly at the contact. Okay, the man was a halfway decent doctor, she thought grudgingly. That didn’t give him the right to examine her.
“I’m fine,” she said, pulling free of his fingers and summoning a weak excuse for a glare. “Say thank you and move along.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not moving along. You haven’t had anything to eat today, and what you ate this morning is long gone.”
“In more ways than one,” she said, smiling in spite of herself.
“My point exactly. So let me express my gratitude in a practical way. Let me buy you dinner.” He pointed to the diner open at the end of the street. “I’ve sampled most of what they have on the menu. It’s not half-bad.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Thanks for sharing that but you do realize that I was born in this town and that I’ve lived here all my life? Chances are I’ve eaten at the diner more times than you, so I don’t need your commentary on the menu.”
“Why are you so crabby? Must be low blood sugar. You need food.”
He put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. Amazingly enough…she let him.
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