Her Christmas Baby Bump. Robin Gianna
turned away.
What was that all about? Sean hadn’t been at CRMU long—surely he didn’t have something going on with beautiful Isabel already? Could there be a professional rift between them? “You and Isabel have some kind of problem?”
“Problem?” Sean’s attention came back to him slowly. “No, of course not.”
But then it was Aaron’s turn to be distracted as the knock-out blonde midwife left the dance floor, leaving her dance partner with a smile before she moved toward the bar next to them.
“Hope!” Sean called out, and she turned. “Great job today on those twins.”
She smiled and stepped closer to them. “Thank you, Dr. Anderson. They were both little peanuts, but I’m relieved they seem to be perfectly healthy.”
Hope. So that was her name. It was the first time he’d been so close to the woman, and he couldn’t help but stare. To notice that her eyes were a mesmerizing dark blue, her skin luminous, her lips full and rosy, and just looking at them made him decide right then and there that he wanted to kiss her.
“I don’t think we’ve ever actually met,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Aaron Cartwright.”
Sean looked at him in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. But of course, you probably haven’t worked together. Aaron, this is Hope Sanders, a midwife at CRMU, and a darned good one. Hope, Dr. Aaron Cartwright. OB and fertility specialist.”
“We may not have met, but I know who you are, Dr. Cartwright. I’ve had more than one patient able to have the baby she’s longed for, thanks to you.” Her smile lit the room more than the glittering chandeliers as her slender hand shook his. “This is a wonderful party for a wonderful cause. Thanks so much for inviting us. I’ve already talked with a few donors about how your organization helps adoptive parents and children find one another.”
“I appreciate that. I’m glad you were able to make it. Have you—”
“You know, I’ll talk with you later, Aaron,” Sean said, clapping Aaron on the shoulder. “I see someone I need to speak with. Congrats again on the crowd you’ve got here tonight.”
He watched Sean move quickly across the room toward Isabel. He wondered again if they had something going, but whatever might be between them wasn’t any of his business, and he had more interesting things to think about.
Like the very beautiful Hope Sanders.
“I think Sean and I interrupted your trek to the bar. Can I get you something?” He let his gaze roam over her face, fascinated by the exquisite shape of it, her silky brows, a pert nose above the delicately chiseled bow of her lip that tempted a man to explore its shape with his tongue.
“Just water, please. I was thirsty after dancing. The band you have here is fabulous, though I have to admit I’m a little surprised. Doesn’t a party like this take a big chunk of the donations you’re getting?”
“Seems like it would, doesn’t it?” Interesting that she was tuned into that, when most people just enjoyed the extravaganza. “Some people donate generously simply because they understand the need. But I volunteered with a similar foundation in the States, and learned a lot that I’ve applied to this one. For better or worse, a great party with a high cost of admission has an exclusive aura to it. Foundations that spend big money on a fund-raising event like this reach people with the means to donate the most. They feel special, have a good time, and write checks.”
“That seems...wrong.”
“It’s just human nature, which I know you understand well, working with patients all day.” The little pucker over her eyes was cute as hell. “Think of it as a win-win. Everyone has a good time, and the foundation makes money to help families.”
“I guess so.” The pucker vanished as she smiled. “And I admit I’m having a very good time, so thank you again for inviting me.”
“Glad you came.” He tore his gaze from her appealing face, ratcheting back the libido that kept sending his thoughts places they shouldn’t go with a woman he barely knew. “How about water with a glass of champagne on the side? In celebration of the party going off without a hitch.”
“You do know saying something like that is tempting fate? The minute you’re sure there’s not a hitch, some disaster is sure to follow.”
“You think?” Tempting fate? Her teasing smile was tempting all right, and who knew? Maybe fate was involved in that. Bringing her to this party so he could finally meet the woman who consistently grabbed his attention even from a distance.
“Dr. Cartwright. We just wanted to say you’ve put together another wonderful party.”
He turned to the couple at his elbow and recognized them as big donors from last year. Spinning through his brain, he was relieved to come up with their names. “Mr. Adams. Mrs. Adams. Thank you, but my office manager organized it. I just show up. I’m glad you decided to come again this year.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Adams said.
“Yes, we had a lovely time last Christmas and your foundation is doing such good things. We had a nice talk with Hope, here, who shared a few adoption stories that made us want to contribute even more. What a challenging job being a midwife must be.”
“It can be,” Hope said. “But of course it’s tremendously rewarding to help bring new life into the world, and help the parents as well.” She looked up at Aaron, and the admiration in her eyes surprised him. “Dr. Cartwright’s work is both challenging and impressive. He helps parents have children who didn’t think they could, and this wonderful foundation brings new families together in other ways.”
Aaron nearly fidgeted under the admiring gazes of all three of them. It was the school of hard knocks, not heroism, that motivated the work he did.
“Well, we’re very impressed with it,” Mrs. Adams said. “And now we’re going to enjoy the decadent things on that dessert table.”
After another handshake, they wandered off and Aaron turned to Hope. “Thanks for talking with them. Maybe you’ve veered onto the wrong career path, and sales and marketing are your real calling.”
“Selling things I’m excited about? Easy. Selling itchy socks or bad-tasting toothpaste just because it was my job? I’m pretty sure I’d be an utter failure at that.” The humor in her gaze, the sheer intelligence, drew him closer without even realizing he’d gone there.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting a sudden urge to reach out and sweep away a tendril of hair that had slipped across her eye. Maybe she’d seen him staring at its silkiness, as her slender fingers lifted to her face, shoving it aside. Fingers that weren’t wearing anything resembling a wedding ring.
And that knowledge kindled the hot spark of interest he’d felt the second she’d walked into the room. “I’d suggest again we share some champagne to eliminate all thoughts of bad-tasting toothpaste, but don’t want to be pushy about drinking if you don’t want to.” Champagne was nice, but holding Hope Sanders close in his arms? An entire case of Dom Pérignon couldn’t begin to compare to that kind of ambrosia. “So how about dancing with me instead?”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed they’ve just finished up a swing tune and aren’t playing at the moment.”
“That’s funny, I hear music. Don’t you?” That fate she’d talked about played right into his hand as a slow song began to echo around the room. She dazzled him with another smile as he reached for her hand, folding its soft warmth within his. He led her onto the floor, and the number of people crowding it made holding her fairly close a necessity he was more than happy about. “This kind of music is more my speed anyway, when it comes to dancing. Which for me mostly consists of rocking from one foot to the other, I’m sorry to say. Not my best talent.”
“So what is your best talent?”
There