Hot Single Docs: Giving In To Temptation: NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile / NYC Angels: An Explosive Reunion / St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year. Lynne Marshall
he rode the elevator to the ninth floor, he took the liberty to study her close up—flawless skin, though maybe a little pale, ash-blonde hair with waves that made him want to dig his fingers in every time he saw her. Her thick brown lashes fluttered the tiniest bit under his scrutiny and her nostrils twitched as she breathed softly. She was sweet and tender, and he felt the urge to kiss her.
The elevator door opened, and though it was a bit tricky to unlock his door with one hand while holding Polly with the other, he balanced her on his thigh and succeeded, and had them inside in no time at all. Before anyone on his floor had a chance to wonder what in the world he was doing with a woman in his arms on a Monday night at this late hour. He chuckled inwardly, thinking how they’d never probably even seen him with a woman before, had probably assumed he was gay or celibate.
The condo was dark, but he knew his way around by heart and took her immediately to the guest bedroom, where he carefully laid her on the double bed. She stirred but only to reposition herself on her side. Not wanting to freak her out in case she woke up, which surprisingly she still hadn’t, he laid a comforter over her, left the door ajar and went to the kitchen. There, he turned on the light and rummaged around the refrigerator for something to eat.
Three bites into a turkey and Cheddar sandwich he heard the gasp. “Where am I?”
He rushed down the hall to the bedroom. “Don’t worry, you’re at my place.”
“Why am I here?” She came to the door looking groggy and very appealing with mussed-up hair and heavy-lidded eyes.
“You didn’t tell me where you lived before you fell asleep, and you looked so comfortable I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
“So you thought you’d make me a prisoner at your house?”
“You’re not a prisoner.”
“Then you’ll take me home?”
“If you insist.”
She stood staring, obviously considering his offer. Maybe she needed some convincing.
“Look, I was thinking of your best interests. I’ve got the guest bedroom and you’ll get a good night’s sleep, then I’ll take you home in the morning.”
“I don’t have to work tomorrow because I did the double shift.”
“That’s fine.”
“Don’t you have to be at work?”
“Not until nine. It’s my clinic day.”
“So you’ll take me home before you go to work?”
He nodded.
She leaned against the doorframe looking drowsy and too tired to put up a fight. “Where’s your bathroom, please?”
He gestured with his forehead towards the door down the hall, then took another bite of sandwich.
On her way back to the guest room she slowed down by the kitchen and gave him a suspicious glance. “Don’t get any ideas about sneaking into that room tonight.” She pointed to the guest room.
“I won’t.”
“Because what we did was a one-time deal.”
He didn’t bother to swallow his bite of sandwich. “By my count, that was a three-time deal.”
Obviously too tired to put up a fight, she tossed him an aggravated look then went inside the guest room and closed the door. At least she didn’t lock it. He took the last bite of sandwich and decided he’d got a kick out of riling her. Come to think of it, there was a lot about Polly he got a kick out of. Now, if there was only a way to get her back into his life on much better terms.
Early the next morning, John had a full breakfast prepared by the time he tapped on her door and woke her up. She rolled out of the room, stretching and yawning and looking even more inviting than she had the night before.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Seven. Have some coffee. It’s decaf,” he said, before she could protest. Somehow he knew she’d take good care of the pregnancy. “I’ve scrambled some eggs and there’s fresh OJ over there. Do you like wheat or sourdough toast?”
“Wheat,” she said, before closing the bathroom door.
The fact that she didn’t throw a hissy fit or make a major protest about getting home right this minute gave him hope, and that notion made him smile. Maybe she was back to being that people-pleaser he liked so much, though the feisty version of Polly definitely had its merits. He smiled and pushed some perfectly scrambled eggs onto a second plate then sprinkled some finely grated Cheddar cheese on top.
They sat on bar stools in companionable silence while they ate at his granite counter.
“Tastes good,” she said, eating a second piece of toast slathered with blackberry jam.
“You’re eating for two now, right?”
He’d named the elephant in the room, and she took her time to respond. “I don’t need you to remind me.” Her gaze was brief and filled with icy-blue warning.
“I want to be a part of this pregnancy, Polly.”
“That’s not the impression I got when I told you about it.”
“I was in shock.”
“You wanted nothing to do with me or this pregnancy. You tried to pay me off, as if I’d go away and never mention another word about it.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed. “I didn’t mean it to come off that way. I wanted you to know you weren’t in it alone, and that you didn’t have to worry about money. That’s all.”
She dropped her gaze toward her lap. “We’re not for sale.”
If that was the metaphor she wanted to run with, he’d play along. “Look at it from my perspective.” He pointed to her stomach. “There’s prime real estate inside there, and though you may be the landlord, I own half of it.”
She made a face at him. “Have you always been this romantic?”
He shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“You don’t have the right to make it all neat and tidy like that. Like a business deal.” Polly shoved another bite of egg into her mouth and stared straight ahead. Once she’d swallowed, she leveled a serious gaze at him. “I don’t have a clue what your issues are, but since I believe you do need to be there for this baby I’ll generously consider whatever part of ‘being there for this pregnancy’ you think you can handle.”
He grinned. That was the people-pleasing Polly he knew. “Good. For starters, I intend to go to all obstetric appointments with you.”
Her eyebrows dropped and furrowed. “That’s a very private thing.”
“And one doesn’t wind up pregnant by not doing a few very private things with the father of the baby, does one?”
She sighed. “Okay, you can come to the OB appointments.”
“And you should let me cook for you at least twice a week.”
“You cook?”
“What do you call these scrambled eggs?”
“A six-year-old can scramble eggs, Johnny.”
She’d called him Johnny again, and he’d consider it progress. “I happen to be a good cook, and I want to make sure you get a balanced diet.”
“Look, I may have gotten knocked up with little effort but I am not an idiot. I know how to eat healthily.”
“There was a lot of effort involved in you getting pregnant, as I recall, and for the record you didn’t get ‘knocked up’, as you so poetically put it, on your own.”
Silence