Marriage by Contract. Sandra Steffen
wasn’t much Bethany wouldn’t have done for an inkling as to what she was dealing with. Unfortunately, all she could do was wait.
A dozen images and sensations crowded through Tony’s mind. The memory of the pouty expression on his patient’s face earlier today when he’d backed from the room, stupefied that the woman thought she could seduce him in his own office. The sound of Noah’s voice when he’d mentioned the promotion and the hospital board’s position on marriage. The disastrous blind date his younger sister had felt obliged to send him on last week, and his parents’ desire that he pass on the family name. As strange as it sounded, the heat that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the very center of him was stronger than all those other things combined.
But marriage?
The thought brought him up short, another idea close on its heels. Beth Kent was pretty and hard-working, and had a kind of class and sophistication that couldn’t be learned. A woman like that could have her pick of men. All she would have to do was say the word and men would line up for her attention.
It suddenly occurred to him that she didn’t seem to want suitors. She wanted a husband. The question was why.
He strolled forward, looking at her intently. “I don’t honestly know what I’m considering, but I know I’d like to understand. Maybe you could start at the beginning.”
For a moment, Beth studied him, measuring, appraising the situation. She supposed he had a right to want to understand. The question was, what should she say? How much should she include? And exactly where was the beginning?
One thing she’d acquired the summer she and her family had spent in England was an appreciation for the tradition of sipping tea. And because brewing tea gave a person something to do with her hands, Beth decided this was the perfect time to prepare a pot.
Without preamble, she strode to the doorway in the back of the room. Lifting the beads aside, she glanced over her shoulder. “Won’t you come this way?”
Tony followed her to a tiny kitchenette. Since he doubted his legs would fit underneath the ornate, glass-topped table in one corner, he leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, one hand in his pocket, watching as Beth filled a kettle with water and removed two tea bags from an airtight jar.
“First of all,” she began tentatively, “I want you to know that I don’t make a habit of asking men to marry me. Now I know why.”
Tony settled back, strangely intrigued by her subtle wit and the way her lower lip was slightly fuller than the top.
“Anyway,” she continued, turning on the gas beneath the kettle, “I wouldn’t have asked you today, but I’m desperate.”
She had the grace to look apologetic at her choice of words. Tony only smiled.
“You see, I overheard Dr. Howell mention that the board of directors would prefer to give the promotion of head of obstetrics to a married man. Now, I’m not pretending that it’s fair, but since I was raised in a family that could have written the book on putting on airs, I understand all about maintaining the proper appearances. I had recently come from a meeting, myself, when I overheard your conversation with Dr. Howell, and I’d hoped that perhaps you and I could both gain something from a marriage of convenience, so to speak.”
Tony found himself standing up a little straighter, his gaze sharpening with every passing second. “What would you gain, Beth?”
She turned slowly and looked up at him. “A baby. A son.”
If Tony lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the open look of longing in her eyes and her voice during that moment in time. “What do you mean?” he said, more slowly and gently than before.
“Do you remember Christopher Moore? The baby you delivered the night of the blackout? Something happened to me that night. I can’t explain it, but I took one look at him and I was lost. Maybe there was magic in the air, or maybe it was all just destiny. I don’t know. But I was sure you felt it, just as I was sure Annie Moore felt it, too. She was so brave for a girl so young. Do you remember? She asked me to take care of Christopher for her. At the time, I thought she meant for the moment, but now I wonder if she wanted me to adopt him even then. It’s what I want more than anything else in this world. But the social worker said that in order for that to happen, I must be able to provide him with a two-parent home.”
By now, Tony had straightened to his full height, his feet spread slightly, his stance ready. For what, he wasn’t sure. She continued, everything she said sounding very matter-of-fact, very tidy. It all made perfect sense, and he had to admit, he’d benefit from the arrangement, too.
What was he thinking?
The tea was brewed by the time she’d reached the end of her “sales pitch.” Tony could have used a shot of whiskey. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but God help him, he was actually considering her proposition.
She’d mentioned that something had been in the air that night when Christopher had been born. While he didn’t doubt that a bond had formed between Beth, Annie Moore and the tiny baby he’d helped bring into this world, he remembered another kind of link, this one between him and Beth. It had been a purely sexual experience, although they hadn’t even touched. He’d been feeling strangely on edge ever since. As a doctor and a man, he knew of only one way to relieve his pent-up need.
Tony happened to believe that free sex was worth about as much as dandelion wine. It went down with about as much grace, and left the same bad feeling in the pit of a man’s stomach. Blah. Give him a bottle of hard whiskey and an honest chase, and he’d give back ten times as much as he asked for. Although he’d never actually admitted it out loud, one-night stands were boring. A man could get that much gratification by himself. That, however, wasn’t the kind of gratification he wanted or needed.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
Tony didn’t know what to think. Inching closer, he said, “Before I can answer that, there’s something else I have to know.”
She turned those violet eyes of hers to his, and damn, he couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if his life depended upon it. Letting his instincts guide him, he did the only thing he could do. In one fast move, he covered her mouth with his.
Her surprise whooshed out of her, but she didn’t pull away. His instinctive response to her was powerful, but nothing could compare to the sensations surging through him at the joining of their mouths. He deepened the kiss, fitting her closer to his body, moving his mouth over hers, his hands spreading wide across her back, inching up and down, kneading. Needing.
She opened her mouth beneath his, sending desire pounding through him even faster. He slanted his lips over hers, clinging, devouring her softness. The kiss went on for a long time, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted, needed, more.
Beth couldn’t think, and she certainly couldn’t step away. Tony had moved fast, but she still should have seen this coming. His hands warmed her through her tank top, his kiss heating her from the inside out. It had been a long time since she’d felt warm in exactly this way. She hated to admit how much she’d missed it.
The kiss finally broke on a need for oxygen, if nothing else. Beth took a shuddering breath and tried to get her thoughts under control. No wonder the rumors circulating through the hospital about Tony’s sexual prowess had always run rampant. According to one of the nurses who worked with him, ninety-nine percent of his patients fell a little in love with him in the delivery room. Dr. Petrocelli obviously had a very good bedside manner. Now she was beginning to believe the stories about his in-bed manner, as well. Thankful that he couldn’t read her mind, she turned her back on him and tried to keep a blush from climbing to her cheeks.
“We’ll tell our families tomorrow.”
Her head came up and around with a start. “What?”
“Our families. They’re going to have to be told.”
“You mean you’ll marry me?”