Susan Crosby - The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? / The Texas Billionaire's Baby

“So it may seem, but it’s much more than just entering data. Plus, we want to involve as few people as possible. You need to read the files, to understand the information that’s there, not just statistics. We’re looking for reasons why there have been so many more multiple births in the past few years than in previous ones. The institute’s protocols are exact. We don’t allow more than three implantations, yet we’ve had more twins and triplets born than makes scientific sense.”

She looked up at him. He’d gotten so close, he could feel her body heat, but he didn’t move away from it. Neither did she.

“And because we had a big turnover of personnel after Dr. Armstrong retired, the people involved are gone and you’re left holding the bag?” she asked.

“Not exactly, since we haven’t been here long enough to blame, but Chance and I came here because of the institute’s great reputation and what seemed to be unlimited funding. A scandal, which this is brewing to be, could cause a huge loss of funding, which could mean the death of our research.” He almost brushed back a wisp of Sara Beth’s hair that had escaped her braid.

“Okay. What am I looking for?”

He pointed out the items she should review, flagging anything questionable. “If you come across something that doesn’t make sense or falls outside the category parameters, just ask. I’ll be working in the lab all day.”

She nodded. “When I’m done with these, should I go into the vault for more? I mean, how far back are we checking?”

He finally stepped away slightly. “I don’t know yet. We may end up entering everything, converting all of it into the new program, something that would’ve been done, except that Dr. Armstrong said it wasn’t necessary. Lisa and Paul want to bring the institute into the twenty-first century.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Ted wondered about her mood. She’d gotten quiet and businesslike since Chance had left. “Thanks again for last night, Sara Beth. I think I’m off the hook with my parents for a while.”

“It wasn’t a hardship for me.” She fidgeted. “You and Tricia go way back, I guess.”

He adjusted his lab coat. “We dated in high school.” He remembered their first kiss, glasses bumping glasses. He hadn’t known where to put his hands, so he hadn’t made any attempt. They’d just sort of leaned toward each other and touched lips. They’d gotten a little better at it through trial and error, but it wasn’t until he’d dated an older woman as a sophomore in college that he’d learned what he’d been missing.

“You haven’t seen each other all these years?”

“Once, right before I graduated from Stanford.” They’d slept together. She’d come to town for the sole purpose of sleeping with him, she told him, as forthright as always. It had been physically satisfying but left him feeling hollow at the same time, as if they’d needed to do it in order to move on with their lives, to prove to each other how far they’d come. That she’d shown interest in him last night was both surprising and uncomfortable. “She could be elected president someday. Or at the very least, be a Supreme Court justice.”

“You can say you knew her when. Reporters will track you down to interview. You’ll have your high school yearbook photos splashed on the tabloids and across the Web.”

“My fondest wish,” he said dryly.

She laughed, a bubbly sound that infiltrated his body and danced inside him, making him feel … edgy. He remembered the firmness of her breast against his hand, the tempting curve of her lower back …

Tempting? There was no denying it. She tempted him, even with her hair in a tidy braid, her bright scrubs and practical shoes.

“Would you go shopping with me?” he asked.

“Pardon me?”

He liked the way her eyes widened when she was surprised, her lashes long and dark. “I thought I’d look at furniture this weekend. Would you turn your lie into a truth by helping me?”

A long pause ensued, then finally, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise. Why? Do you think it isn’t?” He hadn’t thought it through. The idea had struck, and he’d asked.

“We work together.”

Ted was unprepared for the blow of a rejection. He rarely asked anyone for help doing anything, but he also couldn’t remember being turned down before, either. “If you don’t want to, just say so. It’s not like it’s a date.”

Her gaze drilled his. “I’m sure Tricia would be glad to have you change your mind and ask her. She seemed ready and able.”

“If I’d wanted to ask her, I would have. It could be fun, Sara Beth. An adventure,” he added, appealing to that side of her.

They stood staring at each other. He waited her out.

“Okay,” she said. “I need to see your loft first or I won’t be able to picture the furniture in your space. I’m not a pro, you understand.”

“You have good taste. Actually, anyone probably has better taste than me, but your apartment is comfortable. I want comfortable.”

“And a place you can invite people over.”

“Yes.”

“Even if you don’t really want to,” she added, her eyes dancing with laughter.

They barely knew each other, but she’d figured him out. And he’d asked her to help him with the furniture because he’d already relaxed with her. She was easy.…

No. That was a complete lie.

She was trouble.

Sara Beth let herself into her mother’s house at six o’clock on Tuesday night. No scent of food greeted her, which meant they would be eating out. “I’m here!” she called, then shut the front door.

“Be out in a sec,” came Grace O’Connell’s reply from her bedroom at the back of the house.

In reverse of Sara Beth’s housing situation, Grace owned her two-story Victorian, lived downstairs and rented out the second story to a Harvard law professor. It was the house where Sara Beth grew up.

“Cute blouse,” Grace said. “You actually shopped.”

“Guilty.” Sara Beth hugged her mom, wondering as usual if Grace was ever going to age. Although sixty-two, she looked much younger, her hair long, straight and blond, her few wrinkles mostly laugh lines fanning from the corners of her crystal-blue eyes. She and Sara Beth could trade clothes, if they wanted, they were built so similarly.

Sara Beth adored her. She’d had a wonderful childhood, had never felt denied anything—except a father, or even a father figure. If her mother had dated, Sara Beth never knew about it.

“How come you didn’t call me to shop with you?” Grace asked, stepping back to look at her daughter more closely. “I would’ve been happy to go along.”

“I didn’t plan it. I found myself in front of the Gap yesterday. Everything was on sale. I still spent way too much.”

Grace cocked her head. “Who is he?”

It wouldn’t do any good to hold back. Her mother could spot a lie every time. “It’s not what you think.”

“Anytime a woman who hates to shop goes shopping, and buys more than she thinks she needs, there’s a man involved.”

“You buy new clothes all the time. I’ve never seen evidence of a man.”

“I like to shop.” She slipped into her coat and stuffed her wallet into a pocket. “Did you buy new lingerie?”

Sara Beth almost choked. “No, Mother. I did not.”

“You’re blushing. Hmm. That’s interesting. Tell me about him.”

“We’re just friends.”

Grace rolled her eyes, hooked her arm in Sara Beth’s and headed toward the door. “Which is the most pathetic lie in the lexicon of dating.”

“It’s the truth in this case. I did go to a family dinner with him last weekend, but he called it a rescue date. His parents get on him about still being single and I went as a decoy.” And ended up being aroused by his touch. Not exactly within the definition of “friend.”