Kasey Michaels - Maitland Maternity - Triplets, Quads and Quints

He must’ve realized he’d upset her. With a soothing voice, he said, “You still have plenty of time.”

She ducked her head. She’d been rude, and he was trying to comfort her. “I’m sorry. That conversation was my fault, and I was rude.”

“Don’t worry about it. Have another Twinkie. It will sweeten you up.” He presented it to her with a flourish.

She took his offering. She didn’t want to be rude again. Slowly she unwrapped it and took a bite.

At the same time, he said, “What kind of conference were you attending?”

She choked. She should’ve been prepared, but his charm had distracted her. He came to her side and pounded on her back.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Fine. Please, that’s enough,” she added as he continued to slap her back.

“Sorry. Choking is dangerous. Maybe I should’ve tried the Heimlich maneuver.”

“No, it just went down the wrong way. I’m fine now,” she added. She hoped he’d move away from her. His distinctive male scent was enticing.

“Okay. What conference are you attending?”

She finally mumbled, “The same one.”

He frowned and took a step closer instead of backing off. “What did you say?”

“I’m attending the same conference,” she admitted, speaking clearly.

“You’re a medical professional?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean by not exactly?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.

“I’m in medical administration.”

“Oh. I guess that explains why I didn’t meet you. The joint sessions were pretty big.”

“Yes.”

HUNTER CALLAGHAN stared at the beauty sitting on the old stool. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater, her light brown hair framing her delicate features and curving under as it reached her shoulders. It was the hazel eyes, however, that drew him the most.

“Suddenly you don’t want to talk?” he asked, distracted by her strange attitude.

She shrugged but said nothing.

“Did you enjoy the conference?”

She shrugged again. Then she added, “Look, I came to learn all I could. I’m not very experienced.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at her. Something was going on here, and he wanted to know what it was.

“I’m tired,” she muttered, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“No wonder, it’s almost two o’clock in the morning.”

She slid down from the stool. “I think it’s your turn to sit down. We should probably change every half hour.”

“I don’t need to sit. You go ahead.”

“No, I insist. I appreciate your gentlemanly behavior, but I don’t want to take advantage.” Standing, she came to his shoulder. Good. He hated short women who made him feel awkward. Not that it mattered. In a few hours he wouldn’t see her again.

Since she insisted, he took a seat on the stool, hooking the heels of his dress shoes over the lower rung. “Uh, Briana,” he said, trying to figure out if he was going to freak her out with what he had to say. But he had to warn her.

“Yes?”

“If you walk around, stay away from that back corner,” he said as casually as he could. He was hoping she wouldn’t ask why.

But of course she did.

“Why?”

“Well, I think that’s a rat trap. And I wouldn’t want you to get caught in it. I’m not sure I could free you.”

She paled and took a step closer to him, unusual on her part. He’d noticed she was more comfortable if he didn’t come close.

“A—a rat trap?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you examined the Twinkie box? But it’s on a high shelf. Surely a rat couldn’t get to it way up there?”

“It’s my understanding they can climb well.”

She took another step closer to him. “That’s why you wouldn’t lean against the shelves?” Horror had her shaking all over.

“Briana, they’re not going to attack us. I just wanted you to be careful.”

His words didn’t calm her. She pressed against his side, her gaze swerving around the room. “Have you seen any?”

“No. Probably the trap has been efficient and we won’t see any at all. I’m probably being an alarmist.” In spite of the noises he’d heard. She’d heard them, too, when they’d first entered the room, and thought someone was in the store. He looped his arm around her, liking the feel of her, the smell of her.

Great. That’s all he needed, to become uncomfortably aroused in addition to everything else. He was a little surprised by his response. The last few years, he’d found himself less and less attracted to the women who pursued doctors.

She broke from his hold. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. There probably aren’t any rats in here, right? I’ll just stay away from that corner,” she promised, her lips trembling as she stepped away from him.

For several minutes she paced around the room and he had the pleasure of watching her. Her figure was worth looking at, especially in the snug-fitting jeans. He finally closed his eyes, trying to distract his mind with thoughts of operating procedures.

But those kinds of methodical thoughts had no chance over a beautiful woman in jeans. With a sigh, he opened his eyes, trying to think of a conversational topic that would distract both of them.

Instead, the silence was broken by a terrible clang. Something had been caught in the trap.

He looked at Briana, knowing it wasn’t her but wanting to make sure she was all right. He saw her just in time to catch her as she rushed to him and climbed the step stool as if it was a ladder.

She ended up in his lap, her legs wrapped around him, her arms tightening around his neck.

“Wow, why didn’t I think of sharing?” he said, a smile on his lips.

Hunter sat holding a warm, trembling female, unsure what to do next. He didn’t mind holding her. In fact, sitting as they were, things were getting interesting. But she might object, since she’d already been leery of him.

“I know I should get down,” she muttered against his neck, sending tingling sensations through his body, “but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have a phobia about rats.”

“A phobia?”

“Yes, an unreasonable fear of something.”

He chuckled. “I’m a doctor, remember? I know what a phobia is.”

“Well, mine is rats. I was okay as long as I could convince myself they wouldn’t really show up here, but—but is it a rat in the trap?”

“Looks like it to me,” he said, staring over her shoulder. “I can’t be sure until I go over there.”

She squeezed him tighter. “No! No, don’t go over there! He might bite you.”

“How did you get a phobia about rats?” He cuddled her a little closer, liking the feel of her, her scent. “Were you raised in a slum?”

“No, not at all! We had a very nice house, but I saw a movie about a little boy and the rats—terrorized him. I screamed every night for weeks. My brothers laughed at me. Finally my father let me keep a cat in my room all night so I’d be protected.”

Her voice trembled, and Hunter had an immediate picture of that little girl, wildly afraid of rats, pleading for protection. He held her more tightly against him. “It’s all right. You’re safe, Briana. I won’t let the rats get you.”

“Are you laughing at me?” she asked, her voice small.

“No. I’m not laughing. I’m understanding.”

“Oh. Thank you. But we can’t—I mean, we can’t—this isn’t seemly.”

Ah. He knew what was causing her concern. “Look, Bri,” he said, shortening her name, “men react to stimuli without any, uh, intent. It’s not something they can control. I promise I won’t take advantage.”