Kasey Michaels - Maitland Maternity - Triplets, Quads and Quints

“Briana,” she said. She tried to avoid using her last name with strangers, in case they knew of her family wealth. She’d been both pursued and rejected because of it.

“Unusual name.”

“I’m part of ABC.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m the second of triplets. My older brother is Adam, I’m Briana, and my younger brother is Caleb. ABC.”

“Very clever.”

“Not really. That’s what they called us until Dad got around to naming us.”

“I see,” he said, but Briana knew he didn’t. She’d left some information out of her explanation.

Then she thought she heard something. “Listen! Is that someone in the store?”

He came toward the door, nearer to her, and placed his ear against the wood. “I don’t hear anything.”

“I don’t now, either. It was just a rustling sound. Or maybe it was my imagination,” she admitted with a sigh. She put her fingers to her temples and massaged. Her headache was as bad as ever. Wait! The medicine she’d been about to buy. She’d stuck it and the soda in her handbag without thinking when the clerk had ordered them to the back of the store.

Her bag, large, one that could hold all kinds of necessities, was on the floor. She grabbed it, moaning as she stood. The motion wasn’t helping her headache.

“Are you all right?” Hunter asked.

“Yes, it’s just my headache. That’s why I was here. I didn’t have any pain reliever in my room and the hotel clerk sent me here. I think I’ll sue him.” She smiled to let her companion know she was joking. Digging into her purse, she found the unopened medicine and the soda. “Aha!”

He stared at her. “You managed to get what you needed.”

“Yes, I did,” she agreed as she tore at the wrapping. “Assuming I can ever get it unwrapped.”

“Here,” he said, taking the package away from her and deftly ripping the box open. He removed the bottle and quickly lined up the arrows to pop the lid off. “How many do you want, one or two?”

“Three,” she said distinctly, holding out her hand.

“Three? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

In spite of his helpfulness, she wasn’t happy with his interference. “Look, unless you’re a doctor—”

“I am.”

That response stopped her in her tracks. She was attending a medical conference on multiple births and a number of doctors had been in attendance. That would be too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?

“It doesn’t matter. I take this medicine all the time. When a headache isn’t stopped early, I need three tablets to make it go away.”

Without another word, he tapped the bottle and put three tablets in her hand. She popped the lid of the soda and tossed the pills in her mouth, then swallowed some of the liquid.

“I guess I should save the rest of the soda. Did you want a drink?” she asked, remembering he was a victim, too.

He hesitated, then said, “Yeah, I’ll take a sip, along with a couple of pills, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Of course not. Is that why you’re here, too?”

“Actually, I thought I’d get some milk to drink. My stomach needed settling.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink milk if you’re queasy,” she said.

“Unless you’re a doctor…” he said, challenging her with his blue eyes.

Quickly, she disavowed that occupation. She’d wanted to be a doctor, but she discovered as a teenager that blood made her pass out. That rather eliminated medicine as a profession. She’d chosen the next best thing, a hospital administrator.

“Is there any milk in here?” she asked, looking around.

“No, this part has no refrigeration. There’s some sodas, sports drinks, stuff like that. No milk. But I guess we won’t starve to death.”

“You mean we should help ourselves to their food? But wouldn’t that be stealing?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not unless you’re a purist. I think I already paid about a hundred and fifty dollars. That should cover a few Twinkies.”

“Twinkies? Do they have Twinkies?” Normally, she restrained her junk-food urge. But stress, along with her headache, made her weak. Twinkies sounded perfect.

With a chuckle, the man reached up to a shelf behind her and drew down a box. He carefully examined the box before breaking it open.

“What were you looking for?” she asked, puzzled.

“Just checking. Here, have one. They’re individually wrapped.”

She took one and opened the cellophane, eager to taste the gooey sweetness. “Um, thank you. I may survive after all.”

“Is the headache gone?”

“It’s easing.”

“Well, you might as well be comfortable.” He stepped away and reached for the stool, placing it in the center of the storeroom. “Here’s your chair.”

His generosity reminded her of how he’d shielded her from the gun. The man was a true gentleman. “It wouldn’t be fair for me to take the only seat.”

He looked surprised. “You think I should sit while you stand? My mama didn’t raise me that way.”

“No, but we could share,” she assured him, smiling.

He looked even more surprised. “It’s not that big a stool.”

Realizing he thought she meant they could both occupy the stool at once, she turned bright red. “No! No, I meant we could take turns.”

A lopsided grin that only increased his sexiness was his initial response. “Darn, I was having some great images in my head.”

She didn’t want to think about those images. In fact, she thought the more distance she kept from this man, the better off she’d be. He was too handsome for his own good. “I’ll take a turn first,” she said and sat down on the stool, taking another bite of her Twinkie.

“Good decision,” he said and started pacing again.

“Maybe if you leaned against the shelves, it would be easier for you,” she suggested, her gaze following him as he moved. He was a big man. She wasn’t short, five-seven, but he had to be over six feet tall. Though there were a few grey hairs at his temples, they blended in with his blond hair, cut short. Very businesslike.

“No, thanks,” he said and continued to pace.

A big, hardheaded man. Fine, let him wear himself out pacing. She didn’t care!

She finished her Twinkie, and he offered another.

“No. You didn’t eat one.”

“Not yet. I’m sure I will before the evening’s over. My dinner was good. I had steak.”

Again Briana thought of her conference. They’d served steak at the banquet tonight. “What conference were you attending?”

“It was a conference about multiple births. I specialize in obstetrics, particularly at-risk pregnancies.”

“Oh.” The same conference. It was a wonder she hadn’t met him already. But she’d been interested in the administrative side of multiple births. Not the medical procedures being discussed.

“Not interested, even though you’re a multiple? Especially when any pregnancy you might have could be multiple?”

“No.”

“Have you had a pregnancy already?”

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

“I assume you mean as a father, not as a mother.”

She rolled her eyes. The man thought he had a sense of humor. Ha!

“No. Me, neither. I hope to, someday.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but aren’t you getting a little old for a first-time dad?”

“I’m under forty, by two years. Men aren’t as affected by the biological clock as women. How about you? Is your clock ticking?”

“I’m thirty-one if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, irritation in her voice. She’d thought a lot about having a baby, but she’d promised herself, no baby until she found a father, one she could love and trust. She’d been betrayed once, and she was determined that wasn’t going to happen again.