The Diplomat's Pregnant Bride. Merline Lovelace
tipped her chin toward Jack, now rising from his chair. The waiter followed her gaze and offered a hand.
“Yes, of course. Please, watch your step.”
Jack had recovered from his momentary surprise. Gina wasn’t sure she liked the amusement that replaced it.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he admitted. “Are you going for a new look?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
She took the seat next to him and considered how much to share of her plans. After a swift internal debate, she decided it might be good to let him know that she did, in fact, have plans.
“I’m also going for a new career. I have a job interview this afternoon with the head of the Tremayne Group. TTG is one of the biggest event-coordinating companies in the business, with venues in New York, Washington and Chicago.”
The change in Jack was so subtle she almost missed it. Just a slight stiffening of his shoulders. She bristled, thinking he was going to object to her making a foray into the professional party world while carrying his child. Instead, he responded quietly, calmly.
“TTG also has a venue in Boston. My wife used them to coordinate our wedding.”
“Oh, Jack!”
Gina’s soft heart turned instantly to mush. She didn’t want to marry this man but neither did she want to hurt him. Ignoring the obvious inconsistency in that thought, she dug in her purse for her cell phone.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had that connection to TTG. I’ll call and cancel my interview.”
“Wait.” Frowning, he put a hand on her arm. “I’ll admit I would prefer not to see you pursue a career here in New York. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But…”
“But?”
Still frowning, he searched her face. “Are you really dead set against marriage, Gina?”
Her gaze dropped to his hand, so strong and tan against the paler skin of her forearm. The stress and confusion of the past weeks made a jumble of her reply.
“Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked up and met his serious brown eyes. “I like you, Jack. When you’re not coming on all huffy and autocratic, that is. And God knows we were fantastic together in bed.”
So fantastic she had to slam the door on the images that thought conjured up.
“But I think…I know we both want more in a marriage.”
He was silent, and Gina gathered her courage.
“Tell me about your wife. What was she like?”
He sat back, withdrawing his hand in the process. Withdrawing himself, as well. His glance shifted to the rowboats circling the lake. The ripples from their oars distorted the reflected images of the high-rises peeking above Central Park’s leafy green tree line. The buildings seemed to sway on the lake’s blue-green surface.
“Catherine was funny and smart and had a killer serve,” he said finally, turning back to Gina. “She cleaned my clock every time we got on a tennis court. She might have turned pro if she hadn’t lived, breathed and slept politics.”
The waiter appeared at that moment. Gina ordered decaffeinated mango tea, Jack a refill of his coffee. They listened to the specials and let the menus sit on the table after the waiter withdrew. She was afraid the interruption had broken the thread of a conversation she knew had to be painful, but Jack picked it up again.
“Catherine and another campaign worker were going door-to-door to canvas unregistered voters for the presidential campaign. She suffered a brain aneurysm and collapsed. The docs say she was dead before she hit the sidewalk.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“We didn’t learn until after the autopsy that she had Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. It’s a rare, inherited condition that can cause the walls of your blood vessels to rupture. Which,” he said as he eased a leather portfolio out from under his menu, “is why I prepared this.”
“This” turned out to be a set of stapled papers. For a wild moment Gina thought they might be a prenup. Or a copy of a will, naming the baby as his heir if he should die as unexpectedly as Catherine had. Or…
“Your obstetrician will want a complete medical history of both parents,” he said calmly. “As far as I know, I haven’t inherited any rare diseases but my father and grandfather both suffer from chronic high blood pressure and my mother is a breast cancer survivor. Who’s your doctor, by the way?”
“I don’t have one yet.”
The frown came back. “Why the delay? You should’ve had your first prenatal checkup by now.”
“It’s on my list, right after getting resettled in New York and finding a job.”
“Move the obstetrician to the top of the list,” he ordered, switching into his usual take-charge mode. “I’ll cover your medical expenses until you land a job.”
“No, Mr. Ambassador, you won’t.”
“Oh, for…!”
He dropped the papers, closed his eyes for a moment and adopted a calm, soothing tone that made Gina want to hiss.
“Let’s just talk this through. You’re currently unemployed. I assume you have no health insurance. Few obstetricians will take you on as a patient unless there’s some guarantee you can pay for their services.”
“I. Will. Find. A. Job.”
“Okay, okay.” He held up a placating hand. “Even if you do land a job in the next few days or weeks, health benefits probably won’t kick in for at least six months. And then they may not cover preexisting conditions.”
Well, crap! Gina hadn’t considered that. Her throat closed as her carefully constructed house of cards seemed to teeter and topple right before her eyes.
No! No, dammit! Hormones or no hormones, she would not break down and bawl in front of Jack.
He must have sensed her fierce struggle for control. His expression softened, and he dropped the grating, let’s-be-reasonable tone. “This is my baby, too, Gina. Let me help however I can.”
She could handle autocratic and obnoxious. Nice was harder to manager. Shoving back her chair, she pushed away from the table.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
After some serious soul-searching, she returned from the ladies’ room to find the waiter had delivered their drinks. Gina dumped artificial sweetener in her tea and took a fortifying sip before acknowledging the unpalatable truth.
“I guess I didn’t think this whole insurance thing through. If it turns out I can’t get medical benefits in time to cover my appointments with an obstetrician, I would appreciate your help.”
“You’ve got it.” He hesitated a moment before extending another offer. “Finding a good doctor isn’t easy, especially with everything else you have going on right now. Why don’t I call my chief of staff and have him email you a list of the top OB docs in the city? He can also verify that they’re accepting new patients.”
And coordinate the payment process, Gina guessed. Swallowing her pride, she nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Just call me when you decide on a doctor. Or call Dale Vickers, my chief of staff.