Valentine Babies (Holiday Babies Series) (3 page)

He was such an easy-going guy. Not pushy or conceited. Under
different conditions, she could see herself befriending him. She relaxed
against him. “Of course.” They danced to another slow song, then shifted to the
swift moves of faster rhythms, and stayed on the dance floor for the next
half-hour.

“The bride and groom will cut their cake.” The guests
cleared the dance floor and two waiters rolled out a table with the three-story
cake.

A hand on her back, Greg walked her to their seats where
dessert was already served, a
crème brûlée
and
berry fruits in addition to the scrumptious cake. Roxanne felt a surge of
hunger. She realized she hadn’t eaten much and bit with pleasure into the
creamy dessert.

Three bites later, her insides somersaulted. She pressed a
hand to her mouth and another to her stomach. The nausea subsided. She reached
for a French roll and caught Greg’s sharp look. The piece of bread refused to
go down her throat. Actually, more stuff moved up with her bile. She coughed on
the bitter taste and managed to swallow back.

Gripping her roll, she pushed out her chair. “Going to the
rest room.”

****

Greg focused on Roxanne’s back as she navigated her way to
the ballroom door. Here and there she grabbed the back of a chair and paused.
He frowned, his medical instincts on alert. When she disappeared from his view,
he got up and darted to the hallway.

A few feet before the restroom, Roxanne swayed, paused, and
resumed her walk. Her unsteady stance worried him.

Should he call her? Hold her arm? He walked faster to catch
up with her.

Suddenly, her knees buckled. She leaned to the left, her
hand flat on the wall, and started slipping to the floor.

 “Roxanne.” He reached her before she hit the carpet.
“Roxanne, can you hear me?” He tapped her cheeks.

She moaned.

He scooped her up and jogged to the elevator.

“Greg.”

He glanced behind him. Tiffany was running toward them.

“What’s wrong with Roxy?”

“She fainted. Help us. Call the elevator and come with me,”
he ordered. “Has she ever fainted before?” he said as they rode to the second
floor.

“Not that I know of. She’s the healthiest one among us.
Always athletic and full of energy.”

“Tiffany, put your hand in my left pocket. There’s a card,
the key to my room. Go ahead, open the door. Room 210,” Greg added as soon as
the elevator stopped.

She ran ahead and opened the door for him and his precious
load. He laid Roxanne on one of the two double beds and rushed to the bathroom
to get his cologne. Holding the open bottle under her nose, he waved it while
tapping her cheek. “Roxanne. Answer me. Roxy, can you hear me?”

Her breathing accelerated and she wriggled to shift her head
away from the strong smell.

“Roxy,” Tiffany yelled as she squeezed her sister’s
shoulders.

Roxanne moaned. Her eyelids fluttered.

Tiffany bent over her sister, kissed her face, and shook her
shoulders. “Open your eyes, Roxy, please.”

“Easy on her. No need to dislocate her shoulder. She’s
back,” Greg said.

“Is she coming down with epilepsy like Madelyn did a year
ago?” Tiffany’s lips wobbled in fear.

“Absolutely not. She hasn’t eaten much today and she was too
emotional.”

“Emotional to the point of fainting? No way. You don’t know
Roxy. She’s the pillar of our family.”

“Maybe she’s coming down with a virus. Listen, stay with
her. I’ll go get my medical kit from my car and examine her. Okay?” Roxanne
could have fainted from lack of food today or...

A new suspicion nudged into his mind. “Good God, I hope I’m
wrong,” he muttered to himself. Soon he’d find out. Although, he wasn’t sure
how he could help if his theory proved right. “Tiffany, talk to her. She’s
awake.”

Greg was back in less than five minutes. Tiffany was holding
a glass of water to Roxanne’s mouth to help her drink.

He set his stethoscope in his ears and pressed the disc over
her back, trying to listen through the velvety material. “Cough.” He circled
the disc on her back. “Good. Now, can you unzip the dress and lower it?”

Tiffany frowned.

“I’m a doctor. An OB/GYN. I examined naked women all day
long. Right now she’s a patient like any other.” Not exactly true, but he’d do
his damnedest to ignore her pretty assets. “Stop being bashful and lower the
dress.”

Tiffany squeezed her sister’s hand. “Do as he says,” Roxanne
murmured. She tried to raise herself. They both helped her to a sitting position.
Tiffany unzipped the back of the dress and lowered the bodice.

“Good enough. It’s going to be cold on your skin,” Greg
warned. He focused on the metallic disc of his stethoscope and moved it over
her upper chest, and around the burgundy lace half covering her breasts.
Listen.
Don’t look
. He dutifully avoided the generous mounds, and pressed the disc
at the base of her bra.

“No problems with your heart and lungs.” He glided his
instrument under her skirt, just above her belly button and listened, then he
pulled back. “You can dress.”

He turned his back while Tiffany helped Roxanne with the
sleeves. There were more tests to be done. One in particular, but he wanted the
little sister out of the way.

“Are you staying at the Marriott for the night, Roxanne?”

 “No. I’m driving Mom home. We have to prepare for
tomorrow’s bridal brunch. The others are staying.” Roxanne’s voice was low and
feeble.

“You can’t drive in this shape. Can you bunk with your
sisters?”

“Not enough space.” Tiffany shook her head. “I have a room
but I’m sharing it with two of Heather’s kids and Claire will be keeping the
other two.” She shrugged. “Mom’s idea to make sure her daughters behave.”

“Roxanne can stay here. There are two beds. I’ll keep an eye
on her. A very professional one. I don’t want her alone in case she faints
again.”

Both young women looked at him but didn’t answer.

“Tiffany, can you explain her absence to the family without
worrying them?”

“I’ll tell them she’s having a drink with you at a bar.”

“But...” he started and looked at Roxanne.

She shrugged. “They’ll think I’m being independent and
selfish as usual. Don’t worry.”

“In that case, I’ll drive you home tomorrow. You’ll feel
better after a good restful night.”

“Tiffany, please get me something to wear to bed.” Roxanne
sighed and closed her eyes. The poor girl was trapped and would probably
welcome any help. As if there was anything he could do.

“Be right back.” Tiffany disappeared and returned with a
short pink gown. “That’s all I have.”

To give them some privacy, Greg went to the bathroom to
change into a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt.

A few minutes later, he heard a knock on the bathroom door
and immediately worried. “Is she out again?”

“No, she’s fine and ready to sleep. Please, call me in an
hour.” Tiffany scribbled her cell phone number on the pad on the night table.

“I will. Good night, Tiffany.”

As soon as the door closed, he went to stand beside the bed.
Roxanne’s hair, loose now, spread over the pillow, and framed her heart-shaped
face. The fading makeup couldn’t conceal her pallor. He wanted to hold her and
promise that everything would be all right. And yet he didn’t know what her
everything
encompassed, what fears she hid behind her closed eyelids.

“Roxanne.” She opened turquoise eyes that looked huge but so
tired. “I want you to take a test. I’ll help you to the bathroom.” He spoke in
the soft but firm tone he used with his patients.

Dejection washed over her face. “You think I’m pregnant?”

“Are you?” He wished she could trust him and let him treat
her.

“Probably.” Tears filled her eyes. “Although I’ve never
checked. Don’t believe in these home tests. I missed only once. Maybe it’s the
emotion...”

“We’ll talk about it in a moment.” He supported her to the
bathroom and gave her the tube and the sheet of instructions. “It’ll take three
minutes.”

 He paced the bedroom as he waited. What a weird
evening. A few hours that seemed like months. To meet a gorgeous woman, be
attracted to her and swamped in a heap of problems, before even knowing or
dating her—problems he was just guessing.

She’d obviously had a man in her life. Had he abandoned her?
What an idiot. How could any man in his right mind dump such a wonderful girl?
But then, he’d heard so many sad stories at his hospital.

How could Greg help? To begin with, as a doctor, he’d do his
job and make sure she was healthy. As a man? Damn it, he wondered what he could
do. Or wanted to do. He’d seen two sides to Roxanne. The sassy reporter who
couldn’t care less about people’s opinion. And the anxious young woman who’d
tried all night to smother her pain and present a brave front.

He hadn’t dated much. His medical studies and career had
consumed all his time. And then his mother had claimed the few free hours left.
He’d given up bringing women home. Mom did her best to alienate them with her
erratic behavior.

Later, alcohol had ravaged her liver, but Rose Hayes never
forgave him for moving her to an assisted living residence. With desperate
words of love and pathetic gifts, she noosed a rope of guilt around his heart.
She’d never allow him to build a future that wouldn’t include her. He’d given
up, and contented himself with a few innocent flirtations at the bars or the
hospital.

The bathroom door opened.

He crossed his fingers behind this back. Lack of food and
strong emotions could cause a girl to faint.

Roxanne held the tube to him. It took him one glance to read
the result.

Pregnant
.

Chapter Three

“Pregnant,” Greg repeated the single word. It sounded like a
life sentence. For both of them.

Roxanne drew a deep breath and raised her head. “At least I
know for sure now,” she said with a steady voice. Leaning on the bathroom door
in a too-short nightgown—more like a long t-shirt—that revealed a gorgeous pair
of thighs, she looked vulnerable, but way too attractive.

Smashing his lust with an iron will, Greg cupped her elbow
and walked her to the bed. She slipped under the cover and he plumped the
pillows behind her head. He brought her a glass of water and put a pill in her
hand. “Swallow this. A pill of
Zofran
to quiet the nausea.” She obeyed
the doctor’s order. “Here’s a chocolate and cookies I had in my backpack. From
now on, you need to eat light portions every two hours.”

The chocolate smell seemed to whet her appetite. She nodded
and munched on a bar. “Delicious. Thank you. For this and for everything.” She
didn’t hiccup, didn’t press a palm on her mouth or rub her belly. At least her
stomach agreed with her sweet treat.

“How are you feeling now?”

“ Better, although...” Worry etched lines around her eyes.
Confused but trusting, and so incredibly beautiful. “There are too many things
to sort out, decisions to make.”

“About the baby?” He pinned her with a questioning gaze.
Would she think about abortion?

“The baby is the only good thing,” she answered without
hesitation. “We’ll live for each other.” She cradled her belly with a typical
motherly gesture.

He released the breath he’d been holding. He was an
obstetrician who loved bringing babies into the world.

He sat beside her on the bed and crossed his arms. “Where’s
the father?” He wasn’t walking on eggshell around her anymore. He needed to
know the truth to be able to help.

A torrent of tears gushed over her face.

Dread crawled up his spine. Had the man hurt her? Greg had
heard so many stories of abuse at the Women’s Clinic.

“He di... died in...in an explosion. A suicide
bomber...Baghdad,” she managed to stutter.

“Oh my God, Roxy. I’m so sorry.” Greg gathered her in his
arms and stroked her back. Her silken curls tickled his neck and her lingering
perfume teased his senses. She burrowed her head against his shoulder and
thoroughly wet his shirt.

“Also... also...” She hiccupped between sobs. “His brother
too.”

“His brother? He died too?” That was even worse than
anything he’d imagined. “Were they together?”

She shifted in his arms and bobbed her head. “Blast...took
both. Horrible. Poor parents.”

So she knew
his
parents? Was
he
a fiancé? No
one had mentioned Roxanne was engaged. More like a serious boyfriend, one she
met abroad. Greg had completely misjudged the situation. From now on, he’d stop
making assumptions until he gathered all the facts.

He held and rocked her, caressed her hair and brushed
soothing kisses on her forehead.

Finally her sobs subsided. He eased away and handed her a
box of tissues.

“And now...” After blowing her nose and wiping her eyes, she
opened her hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” he gently
suggested, although the story of her relationship with another was the last
thing he wanted to hear. “It may help to share your sorrow. How did you meet
him?”

“It started six months ago.” She folded her fingers over the
sheet and wrinkled the cotton. “I was in Baghdad covering the latest
development there. I got cornered in a narrow street by two ruffians. I ran and
screamed. An Iraqi officer heard me and rushed to rescue me. He beat them to a
pulp.”

“You were lucky he came in time,” Greg commented, resigned
to hear her boast of the brave actions of another man. An honorable one, a hero
maybe.

“Very lucky.” Her voice steadied as she held his gaze and
continued. “Nabil Diab took me to his apartment and introduced me to his
parents. A Christian minority family. His mother made coffee and insisted I
stayed for lunch. It was a shabby place, but I could see the remnants of a
wealthy past. His father and sister talked about their wretched life. They
asked me to inform the world about the situation in Iraq. I wrote several
columns and reported for KNR.” She was calmer as if talking about the past had
soothed her.