Millionaire M.D. (18 page)

“Quit complimenting me, you turkey, and tell me why you hurt me.”

“I didn't want to. I didn't mean to.”

“Justin—that isn't good enough.”

Silence fell between them, raw and tense. He looked away, then down, then straight into her eyes. “It was about suddenly realizing…that maybe I wasn't the man you thought I was.”

She laid her hand on top of his, her left hand, so he could see the engagement ring shining softly in the shadows. And then she clipped their fingers together, tight, so he had something to hold on to.

“I lost so many patients in Bosnia. In trauma medicine, you lose patients sometimes. That's how it is. Always. A fight, a war, against death. Emergency rooms are messy, imperfect places, where sometimes you only have a split second to make a life-or-death decision. It's impossible. But…Win, I swear that I believed I was good at it.”

She clutched his hand tighter.

“But there was no medicine over there. Sometimes no electricity. No light, no water, no facilities, no drugs. You'd get patients that should have been saved. Men who never had to die. Children in terrible pain. And there was nothing I could do. Nothing.”

If she could have bled for him, she would have. For so long, she'd known there was a reason for that wounded loneliness in his eyes. The emotion that didn't show. The way he fooled people about the kind of man he was. And she'd known he had secrets, because everyone did. But she didn't know it'd break her heart to hear his pain.

“I thought I was a stronger man. But I came home from
Bosnia and I got the shakes at the idea of seeing another patient die. So I switched medical fields. I see pain, but it's almost always something I can do something about. And no one's died on me. I thought the change was a good choice, but on the inside, it's just been sitting in here—” he thumbed his chest “—that I let myself down. Let others down. I wasn't the man I wanted to be. The man I thought I once was.”

“Damn you, Doc.” So much for holding hands. She reached for him. “You're so stupid. And I love you so much.” She framed his face, tight, so that she could smack a kiss on him. A hard, mean, possessive kiss, not a sweet one. Yet somehow so much love poured into that kiss that she felt tears bunching in her eyes like salty thunder clouds. “You're ten times any ordinary man, you cretin. Did you think you could do everything?”

“No. But…I just didn't realize how much the whole thing had weighed on my conscience. Until we started talking marriage, and we made love, and every dream I had about you and me was finally coming together. And then it just came to me, that I hadn't faced it…being a coward.”

“That's how much you know. Now write it down somewhere so you get it straight. I wouldn't love a coward. Not like I love you. Heart and soul. Sinker and clinker.”

She could see in his eyes, in the way he kissed her back, that it was going to be all right. But he still seemed to need to get more out. “I just wasn't sure…if you knew me. You didn't know I'd had that failure. And I was afraid that maybe I was fooling you. And me. That I couldn't promise you I was the man you needed me to be.”

“You saved our baby tonight, Doc. Where's the failure? You were afraid. But you still stepped up. You're the best doctor I know. But way, way more than that…you're the best man.” Again she kissed him, but this time softly. Tenderly. Wanting to show him her heart stripped bare. “I love you, Justin.”

“Aw, Win. I love you back. So much. That's why I had such a hard time getting past this. Because I wanted the right to love you for a lifetime.”

“We've been through a trial by fire, haven't we? But from now on…your fears are my fears. Your worries, my worries.”

“And your love…my love,” he said fiercely, and took her in his arms, offering a kiss flavored with all the love and promises they brought each other.

W
hen Winona heard the telephone ring, she was surrounded by open suitcases. How one short honeymoon could create so many dirty clothes was beyond her—particularly when most of the garments were itsy-bitsy baby-size. Now, though, she vaulted from the laundry room toward the telephone in the kitchen, delighted to abandon the chore. As she reached for the phone, she heard the muffled sounds of splashing and giggling. Justin was giving Angel a bath—and someone was laughing uproariously. It wasn't the baby.

Winona couldn't help chuckling as she pressed the phone to her ear. To her surprise, the caller was Pamela Miles.

“How nice of you to call,” Winona said warmly.

“You're probably really busy if you're just back from your wedding trip, and I hate to bother you. I just couldn't stop wondering how everything was going. If you found Angel's mother and what happened—or what's going to happen—to the baby? If things had settled down?”

“The whole world's going great. And we've just been
back for a few hours—the baby couldn't have loved the honeymoon more. In fact, I actually planned to call you tonight, so I'm extra glad you called.”

“You were going to call me?” Pamela asked in surprise.

Again Winona smiled, this time a secret smile from the inside out. “Yes. Because I owe you—we all owe you—special thanks. You're the one who gave me the clue to finding Angel's birth mother.”

“Oh.” Pamela's voice sank, as if she feared that she had suddenly stepped in sensitive waters. “Well, I know it has to be a relief to know the truth about who she is. But does that mean you're not going to be able to keep the baby?”

“Just the opposite.” Winona stretched the phone cord so she could reach the refrigerator. Still talking, she pulled out a bottle and nuked it, knowing Angel would be hungry shortly for her nighttime feeding. “We've barely had a chance to set all the procedures and legalities in motion, and that's going to take quite some time. But right now, the whole situation looks wonderful. Do you remember the lunch we had, and your mentioning the woman who you happened to see at the Texas Cattleman's Club party early in January?”

“I sure do. The one with the scary husband.”

“Exactly that one,” Winona confirmed. “I tracked her down. Originally my intent was just to find out the truth about the baby. But I've been around abused women before. Got her talking, coaxed her into calling a psychologist friend. I only wish I'd gotten to her sooner. She didn't get out in time—at least technically—because that son of a seadog she married took another swing at her. This time with a bat. And that was enough. Finally. She pressed charges, and because he'd tried to use that bat, we could make an attempted murder charge stick. She's free, and he's going up the river.”

Pamela heaved a sigh. “I'm so glad she's away from that man. Because he had such a good job and they lived so nicely, the family always looked okay on the surface. But I
kept hearing gossip. But I was worried for a long time that there was something frightening going on in that household.”

“Yeah. And she's a nice lady. About time she had some decent luck on her side. Anyway—that all happened while Justin and I were on our honeymoon. She contacted us to formally ask Justin and I to adopt Angel. Right now, she has a lot of work to put her life back together. She wants to move, she is absolutely positive that she doesn't want the baby. I have trouble believing that she won't change her mind, but she says she is one hundred percent sure that this is the right thing for Angel as well as for her. And God knows, we both want to adopt our darling.”

“Hoboy. It's so nice to have a story have a happy ending once in a while. That creep. All that money sure didn't make him a nice man. It just gave him the means to hide what he was doing. Um, Winona…?”

Winona heard the implied question in her friend's voice, but she also heard the sounds of more boisterous laughter. She craned her head to see around the corner. Two streakers were running down the hall. She caught a breathtaking glimpse of two bare fannies, one attached to an extraordinarily adorable hunk, and the other teensy, held high in his arms. Both seemed to be headed—dripping wet—toward the master bedroom.

“Winona?” Pamela repeated.

“I'm here—I'm sorry—I was just distracted for a second.”

“I understand. You're just home from a trip and you're busy, and for heaven's sakes, you two are still really on your honeymoon. I just want to ask you one more very quick question.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Do you happen to know…” from the sound on the other end of the phone, Pamela seemed to haul in a giant breath “…do you happen to know if Aaron is coming back to Royal soon?”

“Aaron Black?”

“Yes. It's none of my business. In any way. But I was just hoping that you might have heard…”

“I'm almost positive that I heard Justin say that Aaron was due back in town within a few days. And that he's going to be here for a while.” Winona didn't add that the men needed to get together for Texas Cattleman's Club business. She just kept her voice light, as if Pamela asking about the distinguished diplomat was an ordinary everyday question.

But once she hung up, and aimed down the hall with the warmed-up bottle, she couldn't seem to wipe the grin off her face. Memories of the Texas Cattleman's Club party whispered through her mind. Something about that party had somehow worked as a catalyst for all kinds of events—some of them dark and serious—but some fantastic, extraordinary events had been kindled that night, too. Who'd have thought that a shy, gentle schoolteacher like Pamela would end up dancing with the sophisticated Aaron Black?

Winona was dying to know why Pamela was asking questions about Aaron Black all these weeks later…but her curiosity disappeared when she stepped into the bedroom. Other events had happened the night of that party. Other extremely unlikely couples had danced together—such as a tough woman cop who'd never planned to get married and never thought she'd belong to anyone. And a doctor with a disgraceful playboy reputation who couldn't possibly fall in love with a woman like her.

Only he had.

Just as she'd fallen in love with him.

Completely. Irrevocably. Hopelessly.

Wonderfully.

She saw the two bodies, naked on the king-size bed, playing and chortling so loudly that she had to tap her foot and harrumph to get their attention. “Just what,” she said severely, “is going on here? I leave you two alone for two seconds, and what happens? The bathroom looks like a flood
plain. Nobody's dressed. Nobody's dry. And the sheets are all damp now, for Pete's sake.”

Justin's head jerked up, his dark magnetic eyes fastening on her face as if the lovers had been separated for hours instead of only minutes. “Don't blame me for the wet bed.” Justin motioned to the fifteen-pound blonde at his side—the one currently suckling on her big toe and drooling at the same time. “It's all her fault. She didn't want to get dressed. She wanted to get her tummy tickled. She made me do it. I'm the innocent one in this story.”

“You're blaming a three-month-old baby?”

“Hey, help me out here,” Justin told the baby. “Tell your mom the truth. Quick. Before I get in real trouble.”

“You're dreaming if you think she can save you.” Winona plopped the bottle on the bedside table and dove onto the bed with the two of them. Justin was dead right. He was in trouble—an entire lifetime ahead of delicious, wicked, nonstop trouble. She straddled his waist, bent down and kissed him, good and hard.

Angel chortled when her mom's fingertip accidentally tickled her bare toe, but Winona knew the baby was shortly going to need feeding and putting to bed. The three of them just needed a few more minutes of play first. A half hour from now, however, Dr. Justin Webb was going to have more trouble on his hands than he'd ever dreamed of.

And from the look in his eyes, he couldn't wait.