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THE DOCTOR’S

PREGNANT BRIDE?

SUSAN CROSBY

AND

THE TEXAS

BILLIONAIRE’S

BABY

KAREN ROSE SMITH

www.millsandboon.co.uk

THE DOCTOR’S

PREGNANT BRIDE?

SUSAN CROSBY

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily ever after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Dear Reader,

One of life’s biggest heartbreaks can be someone’s inability to conceive a child. Doctors and researchers have worked tirelessly to change that painful situation, with increasing success. My hero, Ted Bonner, is such a doctor, a man on a mission to treat infertility. I imagine him to be like so many others in that field: dedicated, devoted and driven.

But Ted needs balance in his life, too. So along comes nurse Sara Beth O’Connell, a woman just as dedicated to her work, but one who also knows how to relax—and to love. She has a lot to teach Dr Bonner.

I had a great time playing in the same sandbox with the other terrific and talented authors in this series. I hope you enjoy the results of the fun we all had.

All my best,

Susan

To Paul, aka “Fandango,” fellow foodie, with great

appreciation—for your indefatigable help with

research, legal and otherwise, and for all the

times you crack me up. Thank you.

Chapter One

Sara Beth O’Connell slowed her bike to a stop at a red light, her gaze fixed on it. Red, the color of hearts and roses—

A car honked, jolting her into action. She pedaled through the intersection, picking up the bike lane again on the other side. The air was unusually mild and the traffic Sunday-afternoon light in Cambridge, Massachusetts, giving her time to think, time to decide that she wasn’t really bothered by not having a date on Valentine’s Day. It was more about what being dateless implied—that there was no one special enough in her life to spend the romantic evening with.

So what, right? No big deal. Only the minute hand on her biological clock was ticking, not the hour hand.

And then there was the man in the grocery store earlier …

Sara Beth tossed her head, her bike helmet preventing her long hair from falling into her face as she rode into the employee parking lot of the Armstrong Fertility Institute, the understated but modern structure where she worked as head nurse. Eyeing Lisa Armstrong’s car in the distance, she locked her bike to a rack, then moved to the employee entrance. She slid her ID card into the security reader and pressed her thumb against a pad until a buzzer went off, unlocking the door.

Once inside, her footsteps barely registered in the quiet building as she headed to Lisa’s office, finding her door open. The head administrator of the institute, a research center and fertility clinic, sat in front of her computer, her slender frame hunched, her dark eyes focused on the screen.

Sara Beth drew a calming breath, not because she was annoyed that Lisa had called her into the office on a Sunday, but because of the memory of the man Sara Beth had seen that morning buying a stuffed teddy and gummy bears for his five-year-old daughter. My Valentine, he’d called her when the clerk commented on the items. Sara Beth hadn’t been lucky enough to have a father do that for her. This morning’s reminder of that loss curled painfully inside her.

Ignoring the flash of pain, she set her helmet on top of a file cabinet, unzipped her jacket then plopped into a chair on the other side of Lisa’s desk. “What’s so all-fired important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Or you couldn’t tell me on the phone?”

Lisa blinked. “You have something better to do?”

“Just because you work 24/7 doesn’t mean I have to, you know,” Sara Beth said, not letting Lisa off easy. “It is Valentine’s Day.”

Lisa’s smile was a little crooked. Her dark eyes shimmered knowingly. “You don’t have a date.”

“How do you know?”

“How long have we been best friends, Sara Beth?”

Sarah Beth pulled off her jacket, not wanting to make eye contact, not wanting Lisa to play the best-friends card for whatever it was she’d called Sara Beth in on a Sunday for. “Since before we spoke our first words.”

“Twenty-eight years. If you had a date tonight, I would know.” Lisa sat back, looking satisfied with herself. “You tell me everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Everything important.”

Sara Beth sniffed. “A date on Valentine’s Day isn’t important.”

Lisa laughed.

After a moment, Sara Beth smiled. “So, what’s up? Why the command performance?”

Lisa lowered her voice. “Shut the door, please.”

“Someone else is in the building?” Sara Beth asked, complying. “Someone else doesn’t know that weekends are for relaxation?”

“As a matter of fact—Dr. Bonner.”

Which meant he didn’t have a date, either. If a man like Ted Bonner didn’t have a date, she couldn’t feel sorry for herself. Except, he still could have dinner plans. It wasn’t too late for that. She wouldn’t have minded going out with him herself.…

“This has something to do with Dr. Bonner?” Sara Beth asked.

“Everything to do with him. You know the investigation he’s supposed to be running on the protocol errors he and Dr. Demetrios discovered right after we hired them a few months back?”

“Of course.”

“They haven’t come up with results yet. We’ve learned that some outsiders are starting to question our recent cluster of multiple births. Bad press will hurt us, especially our funding. We already narrowly escaped a disaster when that magazine article was published a while back about donor eggs being misused here. We can’t afford another problem, or even a hint of one. We need answers, Sara Beth, before the press gets wind of this one.”

“Not just answers but exoneration,” Sara Beth said.

“Well, yes, of course, but first and foremost, we need to know whether information has been falsified or breached in the past—or whatever the truth is. And we need to know now.”

“How does that affect me?”

Lisa leaned her elbows on her desk. “We want you to assist Drs. Bonner and Demetrios so that the project gets done. You will report to us if they’re doing anything to stall the investigation.”

She would be working directly for the man she’d had a serious lust for since she’d first laid eyes on him?

“Um, us?” she asked.

“Paul and me.”

“Why would the doctors stall? They weren’t part of the problem, if there is a problem. It happened before they were hired.”

“Because even a whisper of scandal could affect donations and grant money, which will limit Dr. Bonner’s and Dr. Demetrios’s hope of success in their research—not to mention the institute’s reputation and credibility. If something unethical has been going on, our funds could dry up and their jobs could be eliminated. Wouldn’t you stall if that was about to happen to you?”

Sara Beth didn’t believe she would, but that was her. “So you’re asking me to spy on them?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. We’re just lighting a fire under the doctors to get action before we get burned on this. You love the institute, and my father. This has to be important to you.”

“Absolutely.” The institute, and especially its founder, Dr. Gerald Armstrong, had been very generous to Sara Beth’s mother so that she could retire early and comfortably. He’d been good to Sara Beth, as well.

“You’re loyal to me, too,” Lisa said.

“It goes without saying. Not just you, but also your brother Paul as chief of staff. But you know how I feel about deceit.” Most of her life Sara Beth had been haunted by not knowing who her father was, which felt like an enormous deceit to her. All she knew was he’d been a sperm donor here at the fertility institute founded by Lisa’s father, whom Sara Beth affectionately called Dr. G.

Anonymous donors never brought teddy bears or candy on Valentine’s Day. Or sent birthday cards. Or pretended to be Santa. Or tucked a tired little girl in bed at night. Only a father did that.

“I do know how you feel about deceit,” Lisa said. “That’s my point. You could be uncovering a lie. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Sara Beth wandered to the window but didn’t really take in the sights. Could she pull it off?

Lisa joined her. “You’re the eyes and ears of the institute, because in your job capacity you bridge both aspects of what we do, the medical and the research programs. You haven’t hesitated to tell me when you’ve noticed something needing looking into, so how is this any different? Except that this time you’re being assigned to observe and report something specific. Otherwise it’s business as usual.”

Lisa had a point. “What if they don’t want me on board?”

“They won’t have a choice.”

“But how effective can I be if they won’t cooperate?”

“When did you become such a worrier?” Lisa cocked her head. “You’ve always been optimistic and adventurous. What’s going on?”

Sara Beth couldn’t share what was going on, not this time, because she wasn’t sure herself, except that lately, and especially today, she’d been feeling a little lost. Left out.

Lonely. She was missing a father she’d never known, and wishing for a man in her life, as well, a man to love and cherish, and be a hands-on father to whatever children they were blessed with.

She loved her job, but she didn’t want to end up like her mother, who’d never married, having been married to the institute. And yet Sara Beth could see that she was following in her mother’s footsteps, even taking on the job of head nurse, like her mom. Where had Sara Beth’s adventurousness gone?

Being asked to spy for the good of the institute would be an adventure of sorts, wouldn’t it? More important, their work was critical to the many people whose deepest dreams they helped fulfill—having a child.

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Relief coated Lisa’s quiet words. “Let’s go talk to Dr. Bonner.”

Sara Beth clamped her mouth against the “Now?” that threatened to come out. She wanted to face him in her official capacity, wearing her uniform, her scrubs. Instead she wore cycling pants, a Boston College T-shirt and her old, comfortable riding sneakers. She’d left her hair down instead of pulled away from her face as usual, out of her way, her helmet taking care of that problem.

It wasn’t the best way to start their new association, not as far as she was concerned, not if she wanted to keep a professional relationship—which she did. Unfortunately.

Sara Beth walked silently beside Lisa as they made their way through the cavernous hallways of the building, past the administration section, past examination rooms and consultation areas. During the workweek the hallways were alive with people. It wasn’t a boisterous place—the work they did was too important to be treated frivolously—but it was always pleasant, the employees chosen not only for their abilities but their personalities. No drama allowed.

Until now, she’d only seen Dr. Bonner in passing or through the windows of the lab where he did his research. His partner, Chance Demetrios, was much more social and talkative, plus he was also a practicing physician, not just a researcher. Sara Beth often assisted him in his ob-gyn practice, whereas Dr. Ted Bonner had apparently discovered that he was better suited to the lab than patients. His too-direct bedside manner evidently wasn’t the best for inspiring confidence or easing anyone’s fears.

At least, that was the rumor floating around about him. Since she’d rarely had a discussion with him longer than “Nice to meet you” or “Good morning,” she couldn’t verify anything else. She’d intentionally avoided conversations with him because her throat closed when she was around him, something that never happened with anyone else. She always wanted to comb his hair away from his forehead with her fingers, too.

When Sara Beth and Lisa reached the lab, they stood side by side peering through the glass at the man inside. Tall, dark and gorgeous was a cliché, but the description fit him, if in an intellectual way. His hair brushed his neck, but she figured he’d just forgotten to get a haircut lately. Every so often he got it cut, and when he did, it was very short, as if he couldn’t be bothered with regular trims.

He truly fit the stereotype of the absentminded professor: black-framed glasses; long white lab coat, pocket protector and all, his personal uniform; along with a white or blue dress shirt and dark slacks.

She shouldn’t find him sexy, but she did. She’d heard he often forgot to eat, which was probably why he was so lean and wiry, and which also made him look even taller than his well-over-six-foot frame.

Lisa knocked. He continued entering information into a computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. She knocked again. Still no response. Sara Beth looked to see if he was wearing earbuds and listening to music. He was only thirty-two, of an age to blast tunes in his head and work at the same time. No earbuds were visible, no dangling cords, either.

“Let’s just wait until tomorrow,” Sara Beth said, tugging on Lisa’s arm. “He’s in some impenetrable zone, that’s for sure.”

“I wonder if a fire alarm would get his attention?”

Sara Beth stared at her friend. “You wouldn’t—”

“Of course not.” Lisa laughed. “I was thinking out loud. You know, what would happen if? Would he hear it in time to escape?”

“He can’t be that bad. Come on. Let’s just go. He’s doing important work, and we shouldn’t disturb—”

Lisa entered her security information, turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Sara Beth sighed and followed.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Bonner,” Lisa said as she drew close.

He didn’t startle, but Sara Beth saw awareness click in. For one thing, he blinked. He held up a hand briefly then continued to type.

Sara Beth glanced around the lab. The two waist-high lab tables were neat and orderly, even loaded with equipment as they were—microscopes with projection screens, computers, other high-tech pieces she couldn’t identify. Then there was the low-tech, standard lab equipment—stainless-steel sinks, glass vessels and tubes. Everything seemed to have its place, all order, no chaos.

Why aren’t you on a date tonight, Dr. Gorgeous? she wondered. He was young, handsome and gainfully employed. She’d always assumed he played the field as much as his inveterate-flirt research partner, Dr. Demetrios, did.

“Ms. Armstrong,” he said finally, turning toward Lisa. “And Ms. O’Connell. What can I do for you?” His gaze zeroed in and held on Sara Beth in an unnerving way as he gave her the same kind of complete attention he had given the computer just moments ago.

Not a multitasker, she decided, fascinated, as he took off his glasses and set them on the tabletop then shoved his fingers through his rich brown hair. She itched to do the same.

“I know you’ve been frustrated, Dr. Bonner,” Lisa said, “at being unable to find answers to the protocol problems.”

“An understatement.”

“Well, I’ve brought the cavalry.” Lisa turned toward Sara Beth. “We’ve decided to free up Sara Beth from some of her regular assignments and let her help you and Dr. Demetrios with your investigation.”

For a few long moments he stayed silent, his expression giving away nothing, then he said, “Her help is gratefully accepted.”

That was way too easy, Sara Beth thought. Which was a good thing, right? If they could work without dissension, they could cover a lot more ground more quickly. Maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she was spying, either. And maybe her pulse would stop pounding so hard.

“On one condition,” he added. “Call me Ted. You, too, Sara Beth.”

Sara Beth waited for Lisa’s reply. Lisa’s father, the institute’s founder, had always insisted on using titles. But then, not only was he retired, he was almost completely bedridden. He never came into the institute anymore.

Lisa’s shoulders relaxed. “Except in front of patients or VIPs.”

“Fair enough.”

“Should I call Dr. Demetrios or would you like to tell him?”

Ted pulled a cell phone from his pocket and pushed one button, then waited. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Chance.” His brows went up at whatever Dr. Demetrios’s response was. “I’ll make it quick, then. I just wanted you to know that Ms. O’Connell will be assisting us for a while so that we can get to the bottom of the issues around here.… Yes, Sara Beth.… Yes, the one with the long, dark red hair. How many other Ms. O’Connells are there? You work with her every—Oh. A joke.”

He tipped the phone down. “When are you starting?”

“Immediately,” Lisa answered.

Pride made Sara Beth not want him to know she didn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, so she started to say she would start the next day, but he spoke first.

“Is tomorrow okay?” he asked Sara Beth. “I have plans tonight.”

So. He did have a date. “That’d be fine.”

“Tomorrow,” Dr. Bonner said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll do that. Bye.”

He slid his phone back into his pocket. “Chance extends his thanks.”

“I’ll leave you two to work out a schedule.” Lisa headed toward the door. “Sara Beth, you can plan on giving ten to fifteen hours a week to the project.”

Then she was gone, and Sara Beth was left with Dr. Bon—Ted. Without Lisa as a buffer, they would have to talk.…

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said, twining her fingers. “I hope I can help you find the answers you need.”

“Me, too. It’s been frustrating. I’m a scientist. Discovering the truth is what I do.”

The way he said that made him seem like a superhero, a man whose ethical core was the heart and soul of him, as if truth mattered more than anything in the world.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Nothing that you’ll find exciting. In fact, it’s tedious and painstaking, but it’s the only way to get the answers. We need to know if previous doctors implanted too many embryos or manipulated the statistics to boost the institute’s success numbers and therefore increase funding. So far we’ve been working with our more recent computerized records, but in order to dispute some of the claims, you might spend time reading old files from the archives vault, cross-checking and rechecking test results from before the institute switched to the new computer system.”

The archive vault? Whatever else he said was lost. The archive vault. The vault. She would have reason to go inside it.

Her heart thundered, a deafening pounding in her chest. What had been denied her all her life was within her reach—because in the vault was her mother’s medical file, detailing her artificial insemination.

A hundred times Sara Beth had almost asked Lisa to help her find that file, and a hundred times she’d decided not to risk their friendship by asking. Lisa never could have allowed it, even for her very best friend.

And now, if Sara Beth was lucky, she could find a reference to the name of the man who’d donated the sperm that had given her life.

Forget paper hearts. This could be her red-letter day.

Chapter Two

Ted stopped talking when he saw Sara Beth tune out, something that usually only happened to him when he was explaining data or experiment results, which wasn’t the case this time. He’d only been telling her what tasks in the investigation she could take on in order to speed things up.

She was looking straight at him, her dark brown eyes glazed over. Should he wait for her to refocus or try to snap her out of it?

He decided to give her a moment, noting that she looked different today. Younger.

Her hair was down and loose—that was it. She usually had it pulled back in a braid as no-nonsense as her personality. Not that she was cold, but professional. Always. At least with him. He’d perceived her as shy at first, then had seen her interact with others and was bewildered by how she always seemed to avoid him.

She’d caught his eye, of course, during the months he’d been working at the institute, but he’d seen what could happen when coworkers got involved romantically, so he’d avoided even engaging her in conversation, taking away any possibility of temptation at all.

When he and Chance had accepted the offer to come to Cambridge to continue their research, he’d vowed to himself that he would try to be more aware of the world around him, to be more social, but that plan had been foiled almost immediately. He’d questioned the institute’s various protocols, finding some statistics that didn’t seem feasible, exaggerating the institute’s success rate. Although he and Chance hadn’t been involved in or responsible for the questionable issues, it was up to them to find the answers.

For Ted, work was all consuming. His research to find a reliable way to treat male infertility took precedence, but clearing up the protocol issues came a close second. As for a personal life, he didn’t have one, and couldn’t figure out how Chance managed to have his practice, do research and still have time to date. Ted couldn’t manage all that.

He finally waved a hand in front of Sara Beth’s face.

She jerked back slightly, her cheeks brightening. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where I went. You were saying?”

“You wanted to know what your duties would entail. I spelled them out.”

“Specifically what will I be looking for?”

He gestured her toward a tall lab chair, then sat in the one beside it. “Do you know what I found? What I’m trying to verify?”

“I’d like to hear your take on it.”

He got distracted by her sneakers, which she propped on the bottom rung, their scuffed toes at odds with her usually impeccable appearance. “You graduated from BC?” he asked, glancing at her T-shirt imprinted with the Boston College’s flying eagle mascot, Baldwin.

She frowned at the change of subject. “From the Connell School of Nursing, yes. The institute gave me a full scholarship.”

“I would venture to say you earned a full scholarship.”

She seemed to relax for the first time since she’d walked into the lab. “I always loved to study.”

“Me, too. I still do.”

She gave him a knowing smile, as if he’d stated the obvious, which he supposed he had. He much preferred the confines of his lab to dealing with patients on a daily basis. He hated imparting bad news. And in the infertility business, bad news came frequently. He was happier in the lab.

“So, you were going to tell me about what you found,” Sara Beth prompted.

“Shortly after Chance and I came on board here, we discovered that some of the lab’s protocols weren’t measuring up. Data was incomplete or missing. Statistics weren’t matching results. Just as we were digging into the problems, Keeping Up with Medicine ran that story alleging that donor eggs and sperm had been switched for some clients, which raised all sorts of ethical questions about how we do business.”

“The article never named the source of the allegations.”

“Nor confirmed them. Then they were proved unfounded and a retraction was made. But at the same time that we were working on that issue, we discovered an out-of-the-ordinary number of multiple births following in vitro over the past few years.”

“Which means what?”

“Numbers that big could pad the institute’s statistics, making the program seem more successful than it is. We have standards about how many embryos to implant. It looks like the standards might have been ignored. Because of the unusual success rate, the institute was able to obtain a lot more private donations and grant money than usual. Now the numbers are being challenged, and rightfully so.”

What he wasn’t telling her was that every step he’d taken to resolve the problems had been met with resistance by Derek Armstrong, Paul and Lisa’s brother and the institute’s CFO. Chance was the only person Ted had confided in about that—so far. He couldn’t make accusations without proof, but Ted suspected Derek was involved somehow, whether as part of a cover-up or something even worse.

“So, first of all,” Ted continued, “we need to prove or disprove the statistics. Then we need to create a best-practices manual of lab protocols, so if we’re ever questioned again, the answers will be readily available and backed up. I can use all the help I can get. The institute’s reputation is on the line, but so is my ability to continue my research.”

She rubbed her hands together, as if anxious to get started right away. “I’ll check the appointment schedule for the rest of the week and see what I can do to rearrange things and free myself up. Would you prefer morning or afternoon?”

“First thing in the morning.”

She climbed off the chair and stuck out her hand. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stayed seated, keeping himself closer to eye level. Her hand felt small in his, and warm, but also firm and direct. One of the traits he valued most in people was competency. She hadn’t been promoted to head nurse without proving her competency. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Sara Beth.”

“Thank you. I feel the same.”

He believed it. Her expression showed anticipation, as if she really couldn’t wait to get started. He’d tried to get across to her how tedious the work would be, especially if she had to work with the old files in the vault, poring over the folders. Well, she’d find out soon enough.

“Have a nice evening,” he said.

“You, too.” She headed toward the door, then turned around, walking backward. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s—Damn. “Oh, uh, same to you,” he said, but the door had already closed behind her.

Damn. Once again he’d screwed up. He glanced at his watch. He’d intended to leave more than an hour ago to buy a gift. Aside from the traditional, uncreative grocery-store offerings, what could he buy? When he’d lived in San Francisco he’d gotten away with having something sent, but Boston was home. He didn’t have that excuse anymore. He needed to take a personal gift this time, something thoughtful.

From the lab window he spotted Lisa outside standing next to Sara Beth, hugging her helmet and laughing, looking much more carefree than the Sara Beth who’d just left his lab.

He went still. Thoughts swirled. A plan formed. She might be of some help.…

Ted locked his computer, tossed his lab coat toward a hook, then raced out of the building as Lisa drove off. He encountered Sara Beth as she was buckling her helmet. Her face registered surprise—and a little wariness—as he descended on her.

“I know we barely know each other,” he said. “But hear me out, please.”

“Okay.” The word came out slowly, curiously.

“This is the first time I’ve been home for Valentine’s Day since I graduated from high school.”

“Boston is home?”

He just nodded. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house in forty-five minutes for dinner. I need to take a gift.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find roses at almost any market.”

“And my mother would say ‘how lovely’ and that would be that. I want to do better than that. I want you to be my parents’ gift.”

Her big brown eyes opened wide. “Excuse me?”

He was pretty sure if she hadn’t been straddling her bike, she would’ve taken a few steps back, deciding he was a mad scientist.

“If they think I’m dating someone, it’ll make them happier than anything I could buy.” He stopped short of begging, but appealed to the female tendency to nurture. “I know I’m asking an enormous favor. I know there’s no reason for you to say yes. You may—you probably do have a date already.”

Of course she would have plans, an attractive woman like her. He felt ridiculous now for asking.

“There’s not enough time,” she said finally, gesturing to her bike. “I would have to ride home and get myself ready.”

“We’re not formal. I’m wearing what I have on, just adding a sport coat.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

He nodded toward his car. “I’ve got a bike rack.”

Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of her beautiful old Victorian house, said he’d find a place to park, then come back with her bike, giving her no more time to answer than he had in the parking lot, not allowing her any opportunity to say no.

He understood now the expression about someone having a deer-in-the-headlights look. She mumbled something about how to get to her second-floor apartment, then headed toward the house.

He got lucky, coming across a car leaving just a block away. He hauled her bike to her place, where the front door was ajar. He climbed the stairs inside to her unit, where her door hung open.

“Where do you want this?” he asked, rolling her bike inside.

She pointed to an empty spot in the living room. “I’ll hurry.”

She rushed into a room down the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Ted glanced around her living room. The house was probably built around the turn of the twentieth century, but had been remodeled recently, although still using original-looking hardwood floors, and an up-to-date kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. And yet the combined living room/dining area/kitchen space was also feminine. Flowers and pottery and bright colors and… comfort. Her furniture was built for sinking into, and looked inviting.

One of these days he would get around to buying his own sofa.

She had a nice view of the street. Most of the houses were from the same era, some better taken care of than others. She lived only blocks from the Red Line. She could take the subway or a bus to work, the bus being more practical—

What if he factored in twice as much of the primary enzyme …?

Ted grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her kitchen counter, sat down and started making notes, getting lost in a possibility he hadn’t considered before. Later—and he had no idea how much later—he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He lifted his head so sharply he knocked into her. She yelped, fell back, grabbed her chin. He caught her by the arm to keep her from falling, the back of his hand accidentally pressing into her breast, her firm breast, surprisingly full for such a petite woman.

He let go. She steadied herself, repeatedly rubbing her chin, her cheeks flushing a little, too.

“I apologize, Sara Beth.” He gestured toward the three pieces of paper he’d been using to capture his thoughts. “I didn’t hear you. Are you all right? May I take a look?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I am a doctor, you know.”

“And I know nothing about medicine?”

He smiled at the teasing tone in her voice, ran his thumb over her chin. “Move your jaw.” Her lemon-scented perfume made his nose twitch and drew him closer. “Everything feel normal?”

“I’m fine. Really.” She stepped back, and he finally got a full picture of her. Basic black dress, with long sleeves, the neckline not too low or too high, a gold locket, her hair down and curled, high heels that gave her a few inches extra height, which was probably why he’d banged directly into her chin.

“You look nice,” he said, an understatement.

“Thank you.” She frowned slightly. “Are you sure we can pull this off? It’s kind of hard to pretend we’ve been dating when we really don’t know anything about each other.”

“We can exchange bios during the drive. If we say we’ve only recently started dating, they won’t expect us to know everything about each other.”

“Well, that much is the truth, anyway.” She grabbed her evening bag and keys. “It should be an adventure.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “And adventure is my middle name.”

He couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking, then her eyes twinkled mischievously, and he found that appealing. He tended to date serious women—

Whoa. Wait. This wasn’t a date date. This was a please-rescue-me date. No kiss good-night at the door. No how-long-should-I-wait-to-call-her? dilemma. He’d see her at work in the morning, thank her again for her favor, then it would be business as usual.

It was a good plan, a solid plan. He liked plans.

“When will we break up?” Sara Beth asked as they walked to his car.

“When you’re fed up with my lack of attention.” As usual. The most common complaint he heard from women as they exited his life was, “You forgot I existed.”

He didn’t mean to. It just happened. He put most of his energies into his research. He had a good reason to find a solution to male infertility issues soon. A very good reason.

Yes, he wanted to help mankind, but he particularly wanted to help one man. Until then, Ted had given up his goal to be more social for a personal vow instead, a promise to devote his time and energy to the cause, putting his personal life on hold until he’d accomplished his goal.

Even though he felt ready—more than ready—to marry and have children, he would delay it. He couldn’t give his time to anything else but his research, nor ask a woman to sacrifice time with him so that he could reach his personal goal.

As Ted navigated streets and bridges, he gave Sara Beth a summary of his life. “Only child. Raised by strict but kind parents. Too clumsy to play basketball, even though everyone expected me to because of my height. Total nerd. Or geek. Take your pick of insult. I participated in all the science fairs and academic decathlons.”

“And did very well, I’m sure,” Sara Beth said.

He shrugged. Bragging wasn’t part of his makeup.

“I wanted to get away from home after high school graduation, so I went to Stanford. I met Chance there. We were opposites in most ways, but both of us were determined to make a difference. We teamed up at the Breyer Medical Center in San Francisco and made some progress, but we didn’t have the freedom to work in the way we needed. When Paul Armstrong extended the offer to come here, we said yes.” Immediately. No hesitation at all. “How about you?”

“I’m also an only child, and my mother was strict but kind, but I was a jock. Played soccer from age five through high school and loved it. I didn’t have any interest in leaving home, which is why I went to BC, and because of the institute’s scholarship. I’d been working there since I was sixteen, starting as a part-time file clerk. I’ve never worked anywhere else.”

“So you work there because you feel obligated?”

She didn’t say anything for a while, then, “In some respects that’s true, but I believe in what they do, and it’s a comfortable place for me. Lisa and I have been best friends all our lives, and so I spent a lot of time at the Armstrong home. I know her sister and brothers. Her father was always very kind to me, and my mother loved working for him. In fact, she was his first employee, was even kind of a girl Friday as well as his nurse until they got so big they needed more help.”

She sat up straighter and looked around as he turned onto his parents’ street. “Um, where are we?”

“Mount Vernon Square.”

“As in, Beacon Hill?” she asked, sounding slightly short of horrified.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she said tightly. “And where do you live?”

“Back Bay.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced at her dress. “Are you sure I’m dressed up enough?”

“You look fine.” He almost said beautiful, which was the truth, but caught himself in time figuring she wouldn’t believe him.

She went silent. He continued to talk as if nothing had changed, offering more family information, asking more questions of her, getting subdued answers. But when they arrived, he felt prepared to answer the basic questions his parents might put forward.

Ted let himself and Sara Beth into the 150-year-old Victorian house where he’d grown up. Inside, he pressed a hand to the small of her back and urged her toward the sitting room, where he could hear voices. He was appreciating the curve of her spine when he felt her stiffen a little. “They don’t eat guests for dinner,” he said close to her ear.

She laughed quietly, shakily.

“They’ve found that guests make for a better dessert,” he added just as they walked through the open door.

Conversation stopped. His gaze swept the room. His mother and father were side by side on a settee.

But they were not alone.

Chapter Three

Sara Beth wanted to jab Ted in the ribs. Hard. Obviously he hadn’t warned his parents he was bringing her, because they quickly glanced at a woman about Ted’s age seated in a high-back chair, wearing a Valentine-red, body-hugging dress. She was blond, curvy and regal-looking, the silver spoon in her mouth invisible but obvious in her demeanor.

“Darling,” his mother said as his father stood and came toward Ted and Sara Beth. “You brought a guest. How lovely.”

Sara Beth gave her credit. She sounded genuinely pleased.

Ted shook hands with his father. “I thought I’d surprise you. This is Sara Beth O’Connell. Sara Beth, these are my parents, Brant and Penny Bonner, and a family friend, Tricia Trahearn.”

Sara Beth caught a cool, speculative look from Tricia as they shook hands.

“It’s been a long time, Tricia. How are you?” Ted asked, clasping her hand for a moment too long, in Sara Beth’s opinion. Or was she doing the holding?

“I’m well, thank you. You’re looking wonderful.”

“I can’t complain.” He let go, then bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

Shock surged through Sara Beth, then annoyance. Oh, yeah, she was going to get him for this. It was bad enough she seemed like a party crasher, but he also hadn’t bothered to tell her it was his parents’ anniversary.

“Thank you, darling,” Penny Bonner said, lifting her glass to her husband. “Thirty-four years. Time does fly.”

The only available seating was a second settee, facing his parents. Ted led Sara Beth there. She thought she was doing an admirable job of keeping her expression neutral, while an internal volcano threatened to spew. She’d accepted his invitation because she’d wanted an adventure, to recapture that piece of herself. Instead she felt like an intruder.

Which was Dr. Ted Bonner’s fault, big-time.

Hadn’t her mother warned her forever about doctors, particularly about doctors, love and romance? Yes, yes, yes. Forever. From as far back as Sara Beth’s memory reached. Doctors lived in a world of their own, her mother had said. It was one of the reasons Sara Beth had kept away from Ted, since she’d been dazzled by an instant attraction to him. Nothing serious could ever happen between them.

“Glenfiddich on the rocks for you, I imagine, son?” his father said, then looked at Sara Beth. “What would you like?”

To dump a whole bottle of that pricey whiskey over your son’s head. “White wine would be wonderful, thank you.”

Brant moved to a bar cart, then returned with their drinks. No one spoke. The awkwardness grew by the second. Sara Beth didn’t hazard a glance toward the sexy Tricia Trahearn, but felt the woman’s interest. Or maybe she’d zeroed in on Ted. Either way, she didn’t look anywhere but in their direction.

Sara Beth also wondered how irritated his mother was. Not only would she have to add another place at the table, there would be an odd number instead of even.

Ted’s mother ended the silence. “Tricia is visiting her parents for a month,” Penny said.

Penny was short for Penelope, Sara Beth recalled from Ted’s conversation in the car. His parents were old Boston. Very old Boston, as in James-Bonner-arrived-in-America-on-the-ship-Truelove-in-1623 old Boston. Penelope and Brantley were family names from a long and duly documented genealogy through the centuries. Ted was officially Theodore, so named after ancestors from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “It could’ve been worse,” he’d told her as he’d parked the car. “Several were named Percival.”

“How are your parents?” Ted asked Tricia, swirling his drink then taking a sip.

“Disappointed in me, as always.”

“Why’s that?”

She recrossed her legs and bounced her foot. “I haven’t married and procreated yet.” She offered a small toast. “I’m sure you’ve heard the refrain.”

Sara Beth didn’t appreciate Tricia’s lack of subtlety, nor the way she seemed so familiar with Ted.

Ted smiled, returning the gesture with his glass. “Tricia is a judge,” he said to Sara Beth. “Youngest on the bench at the moment.”

Of course she is. Probably everyone he knew held positions of power and influence. Sara Beth was proud of where she came from and what she’d accomplished, but this was a whole new world to her.

“Appointed judge. Not here, but in Vermont,” Tricia said. “We’ll see what happens come election time.”

“It’ll be a landslide,” Penny said with assurance. “And for the record, we don’t pester Ted about marrying and procreating, as you so bluntly put it, do we, darling?”

“I suppose one would have to define the word pester, Mother,” Ted responded, but with a smile. His father laughed.

“So, where did you and Sara Beth meet?” Penny asked.

“She’s the head nurse at the Armstrong Fertility Institute.”

“You work together?”

“Not together, exactly. I’m research. She’s medicine,” Ted said.

Sara Beth was fine with the fact he was fudging the truth a little. They weren’t a couple, after all, and they wouldn’t officially be working together until tomorrow morning.

“Do you help deliver babies?” Tricia asked.

“We don’t do deliveries at the institute. We use the hospital next door. A lot of specialized staff and equipment is necessary, since we often have multiple births. I do, however, attend some of the births. Some of our patients find it comforting to have a familiar face present,” Sara Beth explained.

“You enjoy your work?” Penny asked.

“I—Yes, I do. I’ve known since I was a child that it was what I wanted. I’m sure the decision was influenced by my mother, who was head nurse at the institute since Dr. Armstrong started it. She retired recently.”

“And your father?” Penny asked.

Sara Beth wondered if Ted knew her background. In the car she’d only mentioned her mother, and he hadn’t questioned her about her father. “My father has never been part of my life.” But maybe he will be. Maybe I’ll find him, after all. The vault could hold the answers.…

She realized how quiet the room had gotten. No one knew what to say. “My mother and I are very close, though. How did you two meet?” she asked, diverting the conversation to his parents.

Brant laid his hand over Penny’s. Love and affection radiated from her face, and it made Sara Beth hunger for someone to look at her that way. She’d been in a position to observe a lot of couples through the years, couples who were usually under a lot of stress, either trying to get pregnant or waiting out a complicated pregnancy, so they didn’t always glow. Still, it was wonderful to see a husband and wife so obviously in love after so many years.

“Our mothers were in Junior League together,” Penny said. “Brant and I hated each other on sight.”

“We were four years old,” Brant said. “She was annoying.”

“And he annoyed.”

“When did it change?” Sara Beth asked.

“On my sixteenth birthday,” Penny said. “His parents made him come to my party.”

“I did my duty and asked her to dance, a fast dance where we wouldn’t touch, but the song ended right away and a slow one started. I felt stuck.”

“That was all it took,” Penny said, her smile warm as their gazes met. “The moment we touched—”

“Pow.” He stroked her hair. “I stole a kiss later, and that was it for me.”

“Same here.”

Sara Beth glanced at Ted. He was looking into the distance, probably devising some chemical formula in his head—or maybe planning when he would see Tricia again. Or maybe he’d just heard the story too many times for it to have impact. To Sara Beth it was incredibly romantic.

By the time the party moved into the dining room, another place setting had been added. They were served an incredible meal by a small, wiry, white-haired man named Louis, who looked to be in his eighties and who winked at Sara Beth when she’d momentarily been overwhelmed by the situation. She relaxed then and enjoyed the seared salmon with ginger-lime sauce, roasted asparagus and brown rice with scallions. Dessert was carrot cake, an anniversary tradition because it had been Brant and Penny’s groom’s cake.

Conversation happened around her. Questions asked and answered, memories shared. “Remember when?” became Tricia’s catchphrase, grating in Sara Beth’s ears after the third time. And since Sara Beth didn’t know enough about Ted, nor did she have a history with him, she couldn’t counter anything Tricia said with a memory of her own. Ted didn’t seem to notice, just nodded and kept eating.

“Remember the time we sailed to Providence?” Tricia asked Ted as Louis cleared the dessert plates. “We capsized,” she said to Sara Beth. “He saved my life. My hero.”

“You know, I’ve think we’ve bored Sara Beth with history for long enough,” Ted said. He set his hand on the back of Sara Beth’s chair, gave her what seemed like a tender look, almost bringing tears to her eyes, even though she knew he was only putting on a show for his parents.

She stopped being mad at him.

“We should be going,” he said.

“Me, too,” Tricia said, patting her lips with her napkin.

Their farewells were brief. “I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time that I was coming,” Sara Beth said to Ted’s parents.

“Please don’t concern yourself,” Penny said. “We were thrilled he brought you. Truly, Sara Beth, your presence was a lovely gift.”

Ted and Sara Beth left the house with Tricia, after Ted helped the woman into her coat. Sara Beth had figured out they must have dated in high school, and had seen each other at some point since, but none of Tricia’s remember-whens seemed recent.

“Maybe if we both get after him,” Tricia said, looking over her shoulder at Sara Beth, “Ted will finally furnish his loft. Penny says it reminds her of a college student. Do you agree?”

Sara Beth debated whether to admit she hadn’t seen his place. “He works a lot.” She felt Ted’s hand cup her shoulder and squeeze.

“I heard. Penny wanted me to volunteer to take on the job of decorating for him. I have a knack for that sort of thing.”

“I’ll get around to it,” Ted said.

“You’ve apparently been saying that for months.”

“And I’ve meant it for months. When things lighten up at work, I’ll take care of it.”

“I already promised to help him,” Sara Beth said, fed up with how the woman kept pushing.

To his credit, Ted didn’t blink an eye at the lie. He just lowered his arm to Sara Beth’s waist. His hand felt hot through her coat, which was an impossibility, she knew. Still …

“Really?” Tricia’s brows arched. She looked Sara Beth over again, as if examining her for some kind of decorator gene—and coming up empty. “Why didn’t you just say so, Ted?”

“He’s a man,” Sara Beth explained. “He doesn’t like to admit he can’t do something, you know?” She felt him laugh beside her and felt warm despite the cold night.

“Well, here we are,” Tricia said, stopping next to a silver BMW. “Maybe we could have lunch?” she asked Ted. “Catch up. For old time’s sake. Just friends, you realize,” she said to Sara Beth.

For old time’s sake? Right. For now. Her interest in Ted was as obvious as the cut of her neckline—low and open for invitation.

“I don’t have much free time,” Ted said, squeezing Sara Beth’s waist a little tighter.

She leaned into him and smiled at Tricia.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Tricia said. “Mother and Father would love to see you, too.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ted and I met when we were children, too,” she said to Sara Beth. “Just like his parents.”

“Without the same results,” Sara Beth said, fed up.

“Good night, Tricia,” Ted said in a tone meant to shut down the conversation.

He maneuvered Sara Beth past her and headed for his car, his arm still around her waist, even though he no longer needed to put on a show. He’d touched her earlier, twice. First, he’d accidentally touched her breast, catching her off guard—and himself, she could tell. Then later, at his parents’ house, he’d rested his hand lightly against her lower back. It had startled her, because it was deliberate. But looking back now, maybe that wasn’t all. Maybe it was the touch itself, which had revved her up.

“Thanks for the save,” Ted said as they drove off a minute later. “And for realizing I needed saving.”

“You were looking a little desperate.” She smiled. “I’m kidding. What is your home like?”

“It’s the top floor of a converted warehouse with a rooftop garden. That I never use.”

She sighed. “If I had a garden, I’d rarely be indoors.”

“There’s no garden in the backyard of your house?”

“There is, but I’m just the renter. It’s owned by a horticulture researcher at Harvard. I’m not allowed to touch his garden. Everything’s an experiment.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Three years.”

“I was envying your sofa earlier. Reminded me I should order one myself.”

“So your loft does looks like a college student’s?”

“It’s … minimalist.”

She smiled at that.

“I don’t even know what’s kept me from getting it decorated. I could order furniture online, so it’s not like I’d have to spend time going from store to store. I just haven’t done it. Chance gets after me, too.”

She hesitated a long time before she said, “I take it you don’t entertain much.” How personal was she allowed to get?

“I never entertain. I should be reciprocating invitations. My mother drilled that particular etiquette into my head. Until I furnish the place, I can’t.”

“What’s your style?”

“It would still be minimalist, but also comfortable. I have art—paintings and other pieces that I’ve collected or been given. They’re piled in a corner. I suppose it makes sense to decorate around them.” He pulled up in front of her house. “Do you see parking anywhere?”

“You don’t need to bother.” She gathered her coat around her and opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her directly. “You’ve met my mother.”

She laughed. “Well, she’s not here to see your breach of etiquette. Really, Ted, you could end up driving around for fifteen minutes. I don’t need to be walked to the door.” This wasn’t a real date, anyway, she reminded herself.

“Thank you for going with me tonight. You saved my hide.” He reached over and pressed her shoulder, his fingertips grazing her neck.

Her breath caught. The air around her crackled. Neither of them moved. She wanted to kiss him, saw his gaze drop to her mouth and linger, his fingers twitching at the same time, then digging in a little. Move, she ordered herself. Get out. Don’t look back.

She didn’t budge. “So. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” she said.

He pulled away his hand slowly, cold replacing the heat fast—too fast. She shivered.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, smiling.

She climbed out of the car, leaning back in for just a moment. “Good night.”

“I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

She nodded, was aware of his gaze on her as she crossed between two parked cars, walked up the sidewalk, then climbed the front stairs. Should she turn around and wave? Of course. He was being a gentleman. She waved, although she couldn’t see if he waved back.

When she got inside she leaned against the door, her legs wobbly. What had just happened? Was she caught up in Penny and Brant’s story of love at first touch? She wanted the same fairy tale. The same happy ending. She’d wanted that for a long time.

But with Ted? A man who turned her on just looking at him? A man she worked with? A doctor?

She climbed the stairs, went into her dark, quiet apartment, then didn’t bother turning on the lights, moonlight casting just enough illumination. She slipped off her shoes, hung up her coat and sat on her sofa, curling her legs under her. Her body felt alive. Needy. Aroused.

How could she work with someone whose smallest touch left her breathless?

Her phone rang. She picked it up from the coffee table, her hello sounding shaky, even to herself.

“It’s Ted.”

She gripped the receiver with both hands. Her heart began to pound, loud and fast. “Oh, hi.”

“Listen, I—”

What? You felt it, too? You want me, too?

“Sorry. A car just cut me off. Um, I left some papers on your kitchen counter. Would you bring them with you tomorrow?”

She closed her eyes, more disappointed than she should let herself be. “Of course.”

“Thanks. See you.”

“Bye.”

She’d seen him around the building for months and been able to control it. So why this reaction today? And then there was the fact he hadn’t seemed to notice her at all until today. Or had he studiously been avoiding her, as she had been avoiding him?

All she knew for sure was that she needed to be very, very careful from here on. First and foremost, she wanted to get into the vault.

And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her attraction to Ted get in her way.