Ann Evans - The Midwife's Glass Slipper / Best For the Baby - The Midwife's Glass Slipper

“Don’t feel you have to come, Emily. I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

“I don’t feel pressured, Jared. I’d tell you if I did. The problem is, I like being with you.”

“You like being with me?” His voice held surprise.

“Yes. You’re a good listener. You’re easy to talk to. And we seem to understand each other. All qualities I like in a friend.” If she kept this light, maybe being with Jared wouldn’t be a mistake. She knew she was falling for him, but if they could be friends, maybe the fall wouldn’t hurt her.

“Friends, huh?”

She nodded as if that’s all she expected or wanted. Being honest with herself, she knew she wanted a lot more.

They’d been standing about a foot apart and now he moved closer. “I don’t think we’re going to be friends like Chloie and I are friends.”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “Every friendship is different.”

“What do you expect from your friends?” he asked, his voice husky.

What she wanted was to step into his arms. What she wanted was to feel his lips on hers again. And ultimately what she wanted was way more than he’d said he was willing to give.

What did she expect from friendship? “That depends on the level of friendship. It’s come to mean something different since I moved here and met Tessa and Francesca. I guess loyalty is the main quality I expect.”

The silence in the offices wrapped around them. The other doctors as well as the office staff had gone. No one was around but the two of them. If he reached for her, she wouldn’t pull away. He looked as if he wanted to. He looked as if he liked what she expected of friendship.

But Jared was the type of man who thought about professional reputation and ethics and time and place.

Breaking eye contact and the sensual haze that always seemed to surround them when they were together, he reached into his pocket for his keys. “Would you like to ride with me to the toy store?”

Emily considered sitting next to him in his sedan, aware of him in the confined space. “I’ll follow you.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emily walked beside Jared through the rows of the toy store. She felt as if she were on a date, though she knew she wasn’t. He’d tugged off his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. She could see a hint of his dark-brown chest hair. He was at least six feet tall and she felt almost fragile beside him. Every now and then, she caught the trace of a male fragrance that lingered at the end of the day. His thick hair curled slightly over his collar in the back and her fingers tingled to touch it. He glanced at her now and then. When their eyes met—

What was brewing between them was powerful chemistry neither of them could deny. Yet they were both trying to.

As they traversed the sports section, he stopped in front of the soccer balls. “I’m thinking about getting them one of these for Christmas.”

“You’re going to be a soccer dad?”

He shrugged. “I could take them to their games on Saturdays when I’m not on call.”

He appeared nonchalant but she could hear his voice strain when he realized that he couldn’t be with his daughters whenever they needed him.

After the sports aisle, they turned the corner into littlegirl land. Emily pointed to a princess Barbie. “Now, that’s a Christmas present.”

Jared laughed. “I can see how being a dad colors what I buy for them. I might have to consult you as a personal shopper for Christmas.”

She stopped at a miniature tea set with pictures of Cinderella on the pot and dishes and lifted it from the shelf. “Do you mind if I buy this for them?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. I think they’d have fun with it. Tea parties are great for the imagination.”

“I’m sure they’d like to have tea with you.”

From his smile and the sincerity in his voice, she could see he meant that. From the glimmers of desire in his eyes, she could also see that he found her attractive, and that was such a balm to her ego. “I was thinking of them having tea with you, along with their teddy bears and Barbie dolls.”

“Now, that’s a picture,” he admitted with a chuckle.

They found the hospital play set easily in the dollhouse section. Jared examined it, nodding as he did. “This is a good idea, Emily. I’m glad you suggested it.”

Emily’s cell phone began playing a lilting tune. She retrieved it from the outside pocket of her purse.

Jared took the tea set from her so she wouldn’t have to juggle it. When she checked the caller ID, she froze.

He studied the expression on her face and asked, “Emily?”

“It’s my ex-husband. I’d better take this.” Richard never called her. Since the divorce, they hadn’t had much communication, although there were still a few loose ends to tie up. She sent him a check every month. If he was calling, there would be a reason. And he wouldn’t stop calling until he got her. She knew her ex that well.

“Excuse me,” she said to Jared as she walked to the end of the aisle where she had better reception and some privacy.

After she answered, her ex-husband asked, “How are you doing, Em?”

She didn’t like the nickname, never had really. He hadn’t taken her seriously when she’d told him that. “I’m okay, but this isn’t a good time. Can I give you a call back later tonight?”

“You’re still at work?”

“No, I’m not.”

“On a date?”

Ever since their divorce, he hadn’t cared. Why would he now? “No, Richard. I’m shopping.”

“Well, it’s good to know you have enough money to do that. Low expenses in Sagebrush.”

“I’m getting by. I’m sharing a house and that helps.” She didn’t even know why she told him that except she wanted him to realize she didn’t have a lot left over at the end of the month. “So, why are you calling?”

“I need your signature on something.”

“What?” All of their belongings except two had been divided up.

“I want to sell the painting that’s hanging over the sofa, but your name’s on the provenance, too.”

The only property that hadn’t been completely settled was the painting and the boat, a thirty-six-foot sailing vessel that Richard used to impress clients. She wondered why he needed money, though. His salary had always covered their bills comfortably. They’d used her salary for her personal expenses and extras—parties, dinners out, half of the down payment on the boat.

“How do you want to handle selling the painting?” she asked, still mourning the loss of the relationship she’d begun with stars in her eyes, intending it to last forever.

“Do you have a fax?”

She didn’t, but Francesca did. “I can give you my roommate’s fax number.” She rattled it off.

“That’s great. I’ll fax the form over right away. Sign it and send it back to me by registered mail, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Em.”

“No problem.”

The awkward silence vibrating on the line came from two people who didn’t know each other anymore, who maybe had never really known each other. “Take care,” he said as if he wanted to say more but didn’t know how.

“You, too.”

After she closed her phone, Jared approached her. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine. My ex needs my signature. We bought this painting together for the living room…” She stopped, a lump forming in her throat.

“Everything has a memory attached, doesn’t it?” Jared asked as if he knew.

She nodded, tucking her phone into its purse pocket, not meeting his gaze.

He set down everything he was holding onto the floor, then straightened, came very close and lifted her chin. “I was divorced, too, so I understand that even though a marriage is over, there are still remnants left of what it once meant.”