Книга - The Nurse’s Newborn Gift

The Nurse's Newborn Gift
Wendy S. Marcus


Brought together by a baby…Nurse Krissy Peniglatt promised her best friend she’d have his baby through IVF if he didn’t make it home from the front line. When the time comes to make good on her promise, she’s confident she can handle being a single mum. If only Spencer Penn, the baby’s godfather, agreed!There’s always been tension between them, yet the warm-hearted woman Krissy has become takes Spencer’s breath away. But can he convince Krissy he wants to be a real daddy for her newborn baby?Nurses to BridesThe Peniglatt sisters find their happily-ever-afters when wedding bells ring!









The Nurse’s Newborn Gift

Wendy S. Marcus







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my readers.

Thank you for reading and reviewing my books.

I love chatting with you on social media!

With special thanks to my son, who didn’t want to have his name mentioned in one of my books, for helping me with the athletic training aspects of this story. Any errors are my own.

Thank you to my wonderful editor, Flo Nicoll, for always pushing me to do my best.

And thank you to my family, for supporting me in all that I do.


Praise for Wendy S. Marcus (#ulink_80657ae4-c356-51d3-91b0-e35c4e898aef)

‘Wendy S. Marcus is a special author for me … Read this and you’ll get an enthralling contemporary love story.’

—Goodreads on Craving Her Soldier’s Touch

‘If you are looking for a read that will have you laughing, crying and sighing, while being swept up in sweet yet hot romance, I highly recommend Craving Her Soldier’s Touch.’

—Goodreads

‘If you are looking for a smart, sexy, heart-warming contemporary medical romance that is hard to put down, I highly recommend you try Tempting Nurse Scarlet!’

—Goodreads on NYC Angels: Tempting Nurse Scarlet


Contents

COVER (#ueee88e78-a5bc-5227-9e41-a92622bb4068)

TITLE PAGE (#u8c09db68-aa65-5305-8bf7-414ce7ac55fc)

DEDICATION (#ue0bfdf22-01c8-5b23-94ce-566b29ebc9cb)

Praise for Wendy S. Marcus (#u7228ffbb-4920-5566-bff0-3ae29326bd98)

PROLOGUE (#ubee48368-1baa-5cbe-8ed3-d972482ec060)

CHAPTER ONE (#ue023e84b-44b3-5155-b061-8a101c99650f)

CHAPTER TWO (#uee818cc8-99eb-5d0c-b2f4-4636e9a56757)

CHAPTER THREE (#u8f60db99-9d29-5c7b-8491-54b935369e0a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE (#ulink_58ca9cc9-a319-59bc-82c6-76014b107367)

KRISSY PENIGLATT REMEMBERED the middle-of-the-night telephone conversation like it’d taken place yesterday as opposed to two years ago. Her best friend in the whole world, Jarrod, had called two days before he was scheduled to deploy for his first tour of duty overseas in the Middle East. A courageous U.S. Army soldier, prepared to give his life for his country, his nineteen-year-old self struggling a bit with the finality of the deed should he be unlucky enough to perish in battle.

“Promise me, if I manage to get myself killed, you’ll do it.”

He’d been there for her after her father had left when she was ten years old and after her mother’s attack and subsequent severe traumatic brain injury shortly after she’d turned fourteen. He’d comforted her and consoled her and cheered her up time and time again, year after year, asking for and expecting nothing in return.

Of course, Krissy would do anything he asked of her, anything to put his mind at ease, to keep him focused on staying alive rather than what would happen if he...didn’t. But, “You’re not going to get yourself killed,” she’d told him. The response had been automatic. She’d refused to even consider the possibility of a life without Jarrod in it. They’d been inseparable for over a decade. Sure, her leaving for college and him enlisting in the army right out of high school would change things between them. To be expected. But it was only supposed to be temporary. A few years apart, then they’d be ready to start their adult lives, together.

Well, not together, together, but inseparable once again, maybe living in the same apartment building, or in the same town at the very least.

“My mom can’t stop crying,” Jarrod had said. “My dad can barely look at me without tearing up.”

They were such a kind and caring couple. An only child, Jarrod’s parents’ lives revolved around him. No parents loved their son more than Jarrod’s parents loved him. Lucky for Krissy that love had extended to Jarrod’s best friends as well. On some level, she’d actually felt closer to his parents than to her own. She owed them so much.

“I need to know,” he’d said, uncharacteristically emotional, “if my life is cut short, that some part of me lives on, that my parents have a grandchild to love and spoil. Because losing me...”

He didn’t need to finish. Losing him would be devastating, to his parents and to her.

The anguish in his voice had made her willing to say anything, to do anything to make it go away, to bring back the kind, happy, always joking boy she’d loved like a brother. So even though she’d never expected to ever have to follow through, she’d agreed.

“Okay. I’ll do it, but only if you manage to get yourself killed, which you aren’t going to do, so this conversation is a total waste of time.”

* * *

A short two years later, twenty-one-year-old Krissy stood all alone, her body feeling weighted down by hundred pound blocks of ice, the chill in her bones in direct contrast to the beautiful, bright sunshiny spring day, as she stared at the casket that held the remains of her best friend in the whole world. The service long over, only a few mourners remained, mulling around over by their cars. But Krissy couldn’t bring herself to leave, knowing once she did, the workmen standing off in the distance would lower Jarrod’s body into the cold, dark ground, and she’d never again be as close to him as she now stood.

Her heart ached, literally hurt, every time she thought about never seeing him again, never being on the receiving end of one of his powerful hugs, never hearing his annoying snort-laugh that always got her snort-laughing too.

A tear trickled down her cheek.

Who would she share good news with? Who could she count on to cheer her up when she had a bad day? Whose visits and phone calls would give her something to look forward to? Who would ever understand her and love her and accept her, as is, like Jarrod had?

No one.

Out of the corner of her eye, Krissy saw Jarrod’s mother, Patti, walking toward her. A quiet, plain woman, with short darkish hair, a figure that tended to run toward chubby, and a heart filled with love, she looked like she’d aged twenty years in the past two. “Come on, honey.” She put her arm around Krissy’s shoulders and tried to steer her away. “We have a room reserved at a local restaurant. Jarrod wanted a party, so we’ll give him a party.”

“And it’s not a party...” Krissy started.

“Without Mom’s caramel, fudge brownies with walnuts for dessert,” Patti finished sadly, repeating what Jarrod would have said if he’d been alive and able to talk.

The fact that he wasn’t, and never would be again, sent another wave of tears flooding Krissy’s raw, sore eyes.

Patti pulled her into a hug, not as wonderful as one of Jarrod’s, but close. “I swear that boy could eat a whole pan by himself.” She rubbed Krissy’s back. “I put a batch in the casket with him,” she said quietly, almost numbly. “Along with a picture of the two of you from graduation. Gosh darn it, this is so unfair.”

“I know.” Krissy squeezed her tight, well acquainted with the unfairness of life.

“Come on, you two,” Jarrod’s dad, Bart, said. A tall, solid man, like his son, he put a strong arm around each of them. “Time to go.” He walked them away from the casket that held her best friend, away from the grave where he would lay for eternity...alone. “He lives on in our hearts,” Bart said, walking slowly. “We may not have a piece of him to hold on to, but as long as we think about him and remember him, he’ll never be fully gone from our lives.”

But they could have a piece of him to hold on to, if Krissy did what she’d promised to do.


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_2c7b8810-6f08-5f37-84e0-11c3e10fd88d)

Five years and seven and a half months later

KRISSY SAT ON the bed in her temporary bedroom at her sister Kira’s house in White Plains, New York, home from a mostly fantastic six-month assignment, that’d actually turned into seven months, in Hawaii, sorting through a mess of papers. She moved the real estate listings into one pile, time to find a place of her own and set down some roots. Help Wanted printouts got their own stack, her days as a traveling nurse over, it was time to figure out what she wanted to do going forward, in a job that would keep her in one place, but no rush on that. For the time being she was happy to work as an office nurse in her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s family practice.

That left pictures and mementos of all the fun times she’d had with Zac, her ex-traveling nurse buddy/friend with benefits/almost but not quite a boyfriend. She scooped those up and dumped them in the trash basket on the floor, time to move on.

Krissy had waited long enough. She had a promise to keep.

And Zac, for as often as he’d professed his love for her, which happened pretty regularly after orgasms—back when they used to have sex, before her successful artificial insemination—didn’t love her enough to give up his carefree existence to settle down with her and start a family. Especially, he’d made sure to point out, a family that included another man’s child.

Which was probably a good thing since Zac was everything Jarrod had hated in Krissy’s boyfriends. Stuff that made him fun—he partied hard, didn’t take life too seriously, and couldn’t care less what people thought of him—would have made him a bad parent. Which is probably why, while their last goodbye had caused some tears—seemed tears came rather easily these days—the ache in her heart had been short-lived.

Krissy found the manila folder she’d been looking for when she’d first gotten the bright idea to dump out the box. The sight of her name written in Jarrod’s scrawl still gave her a pang of loss in her chest, bringing on the memory of his funeral, the party afterward, where she’d sat in the back and kept to herself, and the talk she’d had with his parents before heading home.

“He left it all to you,” Patti had said, handing Krissy the manila envelope she now held in her hands. “His savings, some certificates of deposit, and his car. And you’re the sole beneficiary on his military life insurance policy.” Patti had stared into Krissy’s eyes, looking for answers. One question was obvious: Why would he leave everything to you?

At the time, Krissy couldn’t do more than stare right back in bewilderment, shocked and overwhelmed by what Jarrod had done. For her. For the son or daughter he would never know. His confidence that she would do what she’d promised to do had made her love him and miss him even more.

When Krissy had regained her composure, she’d briefly considered telling Jarrod’s parents of her promise. But she’d decided against it, wasn’t ready to make the commitment, or to get their hopes up. She’d only been twenty-one years old, for God’s sake, just starting out, and in no way ready to have a baby.

But now, at twenty-six, almost twenty-seven years old she felt...ready. Well, as ready as a woman about to become solely responsible for the life of another human being could feel. Sure, it would have been nice to have a man who loved her and was eager to accompany her on this journey, but three boyfriends had been quick to skedaddle upon learning of her plans to have her dead best friend’s baby. Fine. She never loved any of them as much as she’d loved Jarrod, anyway. And settling for Zac would have been a horrible mistake. Thank goodness he’d seen that, when she’d been too worried about the responsibility of caring for and raising a child, alone, to see it for herself.

“I can do it on my own,” she told the baby in her belly, hoping it couldn’t sense her self-doubt. “I’m going to be a great mom,” she told herself, remembering what a wonderful mother her own mom had been, before the brain injury. If Krissy could manage to be half as wonderful, it’d be enough.

“I will do it on my own.” She’d given herself five years to mature and prepare. Five years to travel and have fun and live life to its fullest before settling down to raise her child. Five years to find a man worthy of being her baby’s surrogate daddy. Didn’t happen.

“Alone is fine.” Thanks to Jarrod and years of hard work and careful spending, she had plenty of money. She was used to living independently and had excellent nursing skills, which would surely come in handy during any bouts of baby choking or illness. Not that she planned on having to do everything on her own forever.

Surely Jarrod’s parents would help with babysitting...if they were still local. She swallowed back the guilt of waiting so long as she opened the large tan envelope and pulled out the letters inside, all but one still sealed, each labeled by Jarrod with specific instructions.

#1—For Krissy—Open after my funeral

She’d read that letter so many times she could recite it from memory.

#2—For Spencer—When you’re ready to give it to him

Spencer, of all people! Why did he want Spencer to be the baby’s godfather? Spencer hated her. And, as of junior year of high school, the feeling was mutual.

#3—For my mom and dad—To explain our agreement

She planned to hand-deliver that one after the birth of the baby.

#4—To my son on his tenth birthday

#4—To my daughter on her tenth birthday

She caressed her pregnant belly, knowing that it would be Jarrod’s son who would be getting letter number four on his tenth birthday.

“Stop putting it off.” Krissy reached inside to pull out a piece of paper that had Jarrod’s parents’ home telephone number on it. God willing it hadn’t changed. With a deep, fortifying breath, she picked up her cell phone and dialed the number.

First ring.

She twirled the post earring in her left ear, an annoying nervous habit Jarrod would have been sure to point out.

Second ring.

Suddenly parched, she reached for the glass beside her bed and took a sip of water.

Third ring.

She started to plan her message. Hello Mr. and Mrs. Sadler. It’s—

“Hello?”

Krissy recognized Patti’s voice immediately, so familiar it brought on a rush of emotion. She swallowed. Wasn’t ready—

“Hello?” Patti said again.

Stop being an idiot. “Hi, Mrs. Sadler,” Krissy said. “It’s me—”

“Krissy! Oh, my word. How are you, honey? It’s been...so long.” Patti may have started out happy to hear from Krissy, but the sadness tinged with disappointment and hurt in her ‘It’s been...so long’ was unmistakable.

“I know,” Krissy said. “I’m sorry. I...” How did one adequately apologize for failing to keep in touch with a woman who’d been like a mother to her throughout high school? For failing to be there for a woman who had been there for Krissy when her own mother couldn’t be? For failing to offer her love and support to a sweet and caring woman who’d been dealing with the worst tragedy a mother could face, the death of a child?

“I...” Krissy tried again. But how could she adequately explain that she’d tried to stay in touch, and she had, for a good year after Jarrod’s death. But hearing the complete desolation in Patti’s voice during each phone call had been too difficult? That it made Krissy feel things she didn’t want to feel when she’d been trying so hard to move past the pain? That knowing she held the key to Patti and Bart’s happiness, in the form of a grandbaby fathered by their beloved son, but not feeling ready to give up her freedom to have that baby at such a young age, made her feel guilty and selfish and just plain terrible?

“I’m sorry,” she said again. It would have to do until she could explain further.

“I’m sorry, too,” Patti said. “I’ve missed you. Now tell me everything. What have you been up to?”

Easy as that, sweet Patti moved past what a terrible friend Krissy had been.

An hour later they were all caught up—getting caught up on the happenings of Patti and Bart had taken less than five minutes, because not much new had happened in their lives. They were in the same apartment, working in the same jobs, still mourning the loss of their son. They were going through the motions of life but not really living. It would have broken Jarrod’s heart to know. It made Krissy feel even more awful for waiting so long to give them a grandchild to dote on.

But in six weeks, all that would change. She wanted to tell Patti, wanted to hear the joy in her voice and give her something to finally be happy about, but not yet. Not until Patti could hold a happy, healthy baby in her arms. Mr. and Mrs. Sadler had been through too much, couldn’t handle any more sadness if anything were to go wrong with the birth, or God forbid, if the baby wasn’t born healthy.

Krissy forced out the question she’d called to ask. “I’m wondering if you know how I can reach Spencer Penn?”

“Of course. Spencer is such a dear. He stops by for Sunday dinner every couple of months.”

Shoot. Leave it to Spencer to screw up her plans. “I thought he was living out in California. Wasn’t that why he hadn’t attended Jarrod’s funeral?”

“Oh, no. He was only out there for a week or two, taking his sister to look at colleges. I told him not to cancel his plans that Jarrod would understand. Now hold on a minute. Let me get his number from my address book.”

Take all the time you need. Can’t find it? No worries. Krissy was in no rush. She’d already put this off longer than she probably should have.

“Here it is.” Patti read off the number. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you need it?”

Because your son has a sick sense of humor and I’m trying to do the right thing and abide by his wishes for Spencer to be our baby’s godfather, even though the thought made her a bit nauseous.

“I was under the impression,” Patti went on, “that the two of you weren’t friends anymore.”

No. They weren’t. Not since that night... “I need to talk to him about something important,” was all Krissy said, hoping Patti would leave it at that.

Thank goodness she did. “Don’t be a stranger,” Patti said. “If you have some time, we’d love to see you.”

Soon, if things went as planned, they’d be seeing quite a lot of her. “I’d like that. I’ll be in touch.” After your grandson is born.

* * *

A week later, on a Friday evening after work, Krissy sat in her parked car, watching the clock, not wanting to show up too early. She’d kept the heat on, because an April evening in New York was not near as warm as an April evening in Hawaii. Or maybe it was nerves giving her a chill.

It’d taken days of back and forth messages to set up a meeting with Spencer, the pain in the butt. He kept suggesting various bars in White Plains, all relatively close to where she worked, saying a neutral location with lots of witnesses was safest for both of them. Seemed the years hadn’t managed to mature him any.

Regardless of the fact she wasn’t drinking any alcohol these days, the topic they needed to discuss would be better dealt with in private. So Krissy had insisted on meeting him at his apartment—which, as it turned out, was also relatively close to where she worked.

Learning that had been a bit unsettling.

The christening, the confirmation, and maybe a few milestone birthday parties was all the time she’d planned to have to tolerate Spencer. The bare minimum required for her son to get to know his godfather. Heaven forbid Spencer wanted to play a bigger role in her child’s life.

No. Tonight she’d set some ground rules.

Krissy eyed the clock then the distance between her parking spot and the front door of Spencer’s fancy high rise. Six minutes should do it, only because she wasn’t walking all that fast these days.

At seven o’clock, on the dot, Krissy knocked on Spencer’s door.

A few seconds later, it opened and ho-lee cow. The years had been good to the now very handsome Spencer Penn. He must have grown a foot since high school. His lean, teenage soccer player physique? Gone, replaced by muscles, defined, sexy, desirable muscles that were prominent beneath the short-sleeved black polo shirt and tight fitting khaki pants he wore. His thick, wavy, always mussed—in a lead singer of a boy band kind of way—dark hair? Gone, replaced by a shortish, surprisingly appealing, buzz cut. His smooth, boyish face? Gone, replaced by sculpted cheekbones, sexy scruff, and full, kissable lips...that were smiling as part of a ‘You like what you see?’ expression.

Shoot. Krissy focused in on his light brown eyes, smart eyes that, like Jarrod’s, could always seem to tell what she was thinking.

Spencer looked her up and down his gaze settling on her midsection, “Still have a sweet tooth I see.”

Any attraction she may have been feeling vanished. Poof! Gone. “Can you manage to not be obnoxious, for at least the next five minutes?” If she’d cared one bit what Spencer thought of her, she’d have changed out of her work scrubs and freshened her makeup or run some gel through her short hair. But she didn’t care. Krissy handed him Jarrod’s letter. “This is why I’m here. And I have no intention of standing out in the hallway like an annoying salesman while you read it. So either invite me in or I’m gone.”

Without saying a word, he stepped aside and Krissy walked into his apartment. Feeling awkward, and not wanting to stand there while he read Jarrod’s letter, Krissy asked, “Where’s your bathroom?”

Spencer looked up from the envelope he’d been staring at but hadn’t yet opened and pointed down the hallway to the right. So that’s where Krissy headed.

Since she had some time to kill to make her visit believable, she spent it snooping. One toothbrush in the holder. Basic man stuff neatly stashed in the medicine cabinet. An electric beard trimmer. Deodorant. A small box of condoms. Mostly empty drawers. No tampons, or hair paraphernalia, or any signs the same woman visited on a regular basis. Rather than think too hard on why that made her happy, Krissy flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and walked back into the hallway.

Seeing Spencer sitting at the kitchen table, fully engrossed by his letter, Krissy took a few minutes to admire his apartment, neat, modern, and nicely furnished in tans and blacks, so different from the cluttered, messy bedroom of his youth. In the living room he had a bunch of thick textbooks stacked on a low shelf. Krissy walked closer. Anatomy and Physiology. Nutrition. Relaxation. Strength and Conditioning. Athletic Training.

Then she saw it, at eye level, a full color picture of the three of them in a plain black frame, Jarrod on one side, Spencer on the other, and Krissy in the middle. It’d been taken in Central Park, during the winter. They’d been all smiles, with red cheeks, disheveled hats and coats, and covered in snow. Happier times. The good old days, always together...until junior year, when everything had changed.

Beside it were a bunch of pictures of Spencer wearing the same clothes he wore now, posing with various adult male soccer players. “What’s with all these soccer pictures?”

“I’m an assistant athletic trainer with the NYC United,” he answered, his eyes never leaving the letter. “A semi-pro, United Soccer League team.”

Pretty cool, but she’d never tell him that. Krissy remembered her sister Kira telling her there was a semi-pro soccer team in their area. They practiced and played at one of the local colleges, which explained why Spencer now lived so close to her. “That’s what you went to school for?”

“Got my master’s degree in it.”

“What does an assistant athletic trainer do exactly?”

“Athletic trainers deal with prevention, acute care and rehabilitation of sports injuries.”

Other pictures caught her attention. Spencer hiking. Spencer skiing. Spencer on the beach with a bunch of his good looking friends. My God! Krissy looked away. “No pictures of your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Good to know.

Why is that good to know?

Hmmm.

Before she could come up with an answer, Spencer interrupted.

“You’re pregnant?” he yelled from the kitchen, in a tone that seemed to indicate women like Krissy shouldn’t procreate. Really, he felt it necessary to yell? The apartment wasn’t all that big.

“Yes,” Krissy said, keeping her voice uninterested and her back to him as she perused the other pictures on the shelf. “Sorry you wasted a perfectly good insult.”

“With Jarrod’s baby?” he asked.

The disbelief in his tone had her swinging around to face him. “Yes with Jarrod’s baby.”

From where he sat, Spencer looked up from the letter. “How do I know?”

“How do you know what?”

He stood. “How do I know that’s Jarrod’s baby in here,” he motioned to her belly, “and not some other guy’s?” He walked closer. “How do I know you didn’t get yourself knocked up and now you’re digging out these letters Jarrod left you so you can get me, Patti and Bart involved so you don’t have to raise the kid on your own? Do they know?”

A rage like she hadn’t felt in years, quite possibly since the last time she’d seen Spencer, surged through her. How dare he insinuate... “As if I would waste one minute looking for you if Jarrod hadn’t asked me to. As if I would want someone like you in my life, in my baby’s life, if Jarrod hadn’t specifically stated he wanted you to be his baby’s godfather. God I hate you. This was a mistake.” She stomped toward the door. “I don’t know what Jarrod was thinking.” She bent to pick up her pocketbook—no easy task considering she’d soon be entering her ninth month of pregnancy, but no way would she ask Spencer for help. “And, no, Patti and Bart don’t know. Not yet. I’m waiting until after the baby’s born. To save them from worry...or having to grieve another loss if something goes wrong.”

“Wait,” he said, sounding tired.

No way would she wait simply because he wanted her to. But she could slow down long enough to let him have it. “You may not believe this is Jarrod’s baby, and frankly, I don’t care whether you do or you don’t. I did what he asked me to do, out of love for him, but I won’t—”

“Love.” Spencer let out a cruel laugh. “You don’t know the meaning of the word. If you loved Jarrod so much, why’d you flirt with him and tease and then flaunt all your boyfriends in front of him?”

Yes, she’d teased and joked. But she most certainly had not flirted with Jarrod. “I did not—”

Apparently ready for a fight, he set his hands on his hips and leaned in. “Oh, yes, you did. Holding their hands in front of him, sucking face in front of him, telling him the intimate details of your sex life, breaking his heart over and over again.”

Breaking his heart? “I did not break his heart. We were pals, best friends. We talked about everything.” Although to be honest, usually Krissy had done most of the talking while Jarrod had done most of the listening.

“He didn’t want to be your best friend. At least that’s not all he wanted to be. I never understood how you couldn’t see it? Except that you were always too absorbed in yourself and what was going on in your life to notice much about anyone else.”

Even though that had been true, Krissy told him to, “Go to hell.” She didn’t want to relive those days. She’d moved on. She was a better person now. She was doing the right thing by having Jarrod’s baby, following through with his wishes. But she refused to stand here and listen to one more word out of Spencer’s mouth. She turned to the door.

“All the times you ran to him when you were upset, cried on his shoulder, let him hold you and console you. You gave him just enough to keep him content with the scraps of affection you tossed in his direction, to make him hopeful that maybe someday...”

“Shut up.” Krissy’s chest started to ache.

“He loved you,” Spencer said. “Boyfriend, girlfriend loved you.”

No.

“But you came after me.” His words dripped with resentment. “Kissed me on some whim, without a care who saw you, without a care for my friendship with Jarrod or how much it would hurt him if he found out.”

“What’s the matter, Krissy?” Spencer had said to her that night. “Getting desperate? Every other guy at the party turned you down?” Like she was a common slut, like she’d only gone after him because no one else would have her. He had no idea how long it’d taken her to finally act on her feelings for him. If anyone had gotten hurt that night it’d been her.

Krissy turned back around to face him. “Jarrod and I were friends. Best friends. That’s all.”

“He wanted more.” Spencer stared her down. “Why do you think he kissed you?”

An innocent peck on the lips, in the tenth grade, beneath the bleachers at a basketball game. “He said he liked me better than any other girl at school and he just wanted to see...” But there’d been nothing. No tingle. No spark. No desire to take the kiss deeper, for either of them...or so she’d thought...so he’d led her to believe. Why?

“Did you have to laugh afterward?” Spencer asked, doing nothing to hide his contempt, as he walked back to the kitchen, folded Jarrod’s letter and stuffed it back in the envelope.

The whole kiss thing had made her feel weird and out of sorts. So yeah, she’d laughed. A nervous kind of laugh, because she didn’t know what else to do, the two them standing there, alone... “He told you about that?”

Spencer nodded. Then he shrugged. “You confided in him and he confided in me. After you went off with your friends, like nothing had happened, he sent me a text.” Spencer looked down at his feet. “I found him crying in the third floor bathroom.”

“You told me he went home because he wasn’t feeling well.”

“He wasn’t feeling well. He was heartbroken. He’d finally kissed the girl he’d secretly loved for years and she’d laughed in his face.”

Krissy’s stomach churned.

Spencer folded the envelope and slid it into his back pocket, casual as can be, while Krissy felt like the very foundation of her life was crumbling beneath her feet.

“The next day, after he’d calmed down he decided he could be patient.” Spencer’s eyes met hers. “That you were worth the wait. That eventually he’d win you over, but you didn’t make it easy on him, did you?”

Had she really hurt her best friend again and again? God help her. All the things she’d confided in him. Vomit started to creep up to the back of her throat. “I had no idea.” Absolutely no idea at all or she never would have—

“Why do you think he went into the army?” Spencer looked at her with such anger, such...hatred. “To impress you.”

No! “Don’t you dare belittle his decision,” she jabbed her index finger in Spencer’s direction, “his commitment and dedication or how hard he’d worked to get into shape. He enlisted because he wanted to serve his country.”

“He enlisted to impress you.” Spencer shook his head. “There was no talking him out of it, believe me, I tried. After hearing you gush about that Martinez kid who’d joined the marines, Jarrod got it into his head that he’d join the military, too. So you’d gush about him. He’d planned to come home a war hero so you’d finally see him as a man.”

What? “Are you saying...?” The ache in her chest worsened. The floor seemed to undulate beneath her feet. Krissy grabbed on to the wall for stability. “He joined the military because of me?” A sharp pain stabbed at the right side of her belly. “Ow.” She rubbed the area, tears forming in her eyes. It couldn’t be. “That he’s dead...” Her whole abdomen tightened uncomfortably. “He’s dead...” She couldn’t breathe. “...because of me?”

Fluid gushed between her legs. “No.” She clamped them closed.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer ran toward her. He looked down. Then he ran back to the kitchen, grabbed a chair and ran back. “Sit.”

She wanted to yell, “I am not a dog,” because Spencer brought out the fight in her. But if she didn’t sit right then there was a good chance she’d collapse to the floor. “I can’t have this baby. Not yet.” She rubbed her belly, wasn’t ready. “It’s too soon.” The baby kicked. At least that was a good sign.

Krissy could hear Spencer talking but she paid no attention to what he was saying, thoughts of Jarrod swirling in her head. He’d gone into the army because of her. He’d been killed because of her. I’m sorry. So sorry.

Spencer knelt down beside her. “How far along are you?”

“I’m due in five weeks.” He repeated what she’d told him into his cell phone. “Who are you talking to?”

“An ambulance is on the way.”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_c6d8d2be-5c3d-56d6-8769-f477d159e18b)

UPON THEIR ARRIVAL at the hospital, the ambulance crew whisked them right up to the Labor and Delivery floor where Spencer stood by helplessly—something he was not used to and did not like one bit—while the doctor examined Krissy and the nurse hooked her up to a fetal monitor. Forty-five minutes later, they were alone, Spencer sitting in a guest chair, holding on to a black and white sonogram picture. Krissy in a hospital gown, lying on her side in the bed, facing away from him. The sound of her baby’s rapid heartbeat—correction: her and Jarrod’s baby’s rapid heartbeat—filled the tense silence between them.

What had Jarrod been thinking, asking someone as irresponsible and self-centered as Krissy to have his baby, especially when he wouldn’t be here to, at the very least, keep an eye on her? And now he expected Spencer to do it? He shifted in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Friendship had limits. Even after death.

Ten years.

For the past ten years, since his father had collapsed on a subway platform and died of a massive heart attack when Spencer was only seventeen, he’d been the man of the family, helping his mother, looking out for his two younger sisters. Finally, just this year, with Reagan in graduate school out in California, Tara finishing her first year of college in Massachusetts, and Mom moved out of their old apartment and into a smaller, more affordable one close to her new boyfriend, he’d earned his freedom.

He had his own place, outside of New York City where his mother still lived, could come and go as he pleased without having to check in with anyone. In the off season he could spend the winter skiing in Utah or on the beach in the Caribbean. Or he could do both! He was responsible for no one but himself...finally.

And now this. Krissy was having a baby, and Jarrod expected Spencer to look after them both? He wanted to run from the room screaming, Noooooooooo.

Seeing her for the first time since high school—her face fuller, but still beautiful, the blue eyes that used to haunt his teenage dreams, her breasts looking even more voluptuous beneath her baggy scrubs—had been like a punch to the gut. And the way she’d been looking him over, with lust in her eyes.

Why couldn’t she have looked at him like that back in high school? Why couldn’t she have set Jarrod straight all those years ago? Told him, in no uncertain terms, that they’d never be more than friends? Then Jarrod could have gotten a real girlfriend and he wouldn’t have gone into the army and he wouldn’t be dead! Long buried anger, frustration, and blame had resurfaced. He’d wanted to hurt her, like she’d hurt Jarrod, so many times, like she’d hurt him. So Spencer had emptied the load he’d been carrying, telling her everything.

It was as if nine years had not gone by, as if he hadn’t changed at all. As if he was still the antagonistic jerk he’d turned into all those years ago.

But this evening’s little bit of bad behavior aside, he had changed. He was more tolerant and understanding, at least he tried to be...usually. Now, when he wanted something, he went after it, regardless of who else wanted it.

Maybe she had changed, too, at least a little. While the girl she’d been wouldn’t have thought twice about making an empty promise to her best friend, old Krissy probably wouldn’t have made good on that promise, especially when it involved something as huge and life altering as getting pregnant and having a baby on her own.

That Jarrod had gone as far as to ask wasn’t as much of a shock as Krissy agreeing, and actually following through, especially with Jarrod gone. Their agreement could have died with him. No one would have known.

She could have taken all the money Jarrod had left her—a decision that finally made sense—and lived quite comfortably without having to work. Yet she hadn’t. According to Jarrod’s mom, Krissy had said she’d been working as a traveling nurse. Maybe she wasn’t the conniving opportunist he’d thought her to be all these years.

A nicely dressed woman in a pair of killer heels hurried into the room. Tall and thin, the opposite of Krissy, but with the same blue eyes and dark hair, only hers was long and up in a ponytail, it had to be Krissy’s sister, Kira. “My, God.” She walked past the foot of the bed to the side Krissy was facing. “Are you okay? The baby? What happened?”

A tall man with dark hair followed her in. “Give her a chance to answer.”

Whereas Kira didn’t notice Spencer, the man with her held out his hand. “Derrick Limone, Kira’s fiancé.”

According to Jarrod’s mom, Krissy had mentioned working for her future brother-in-law, the doctor, at Limone Family Practice. Spencer liked that the man didn’t throw his title around. “Spencer Penn.” Spencer shook his hand. Then, feeling the need to justify his presence, without admitting to most likely being the reason for Krissy’s trip to the hospital, he added, “Baby’s godfather.”

“Spencer Penn?” Kira asked, and not fondly. “From high school?”

Yeah, that Spencer Penn.

Krissy turned onto her back and struggled to sit up.

Without giving it a second thought, Spencer rushed over to help her, for the first time noticing how tired she looked. No wonder. According to what she’d told the doctor and nurse, she’d just recently returned from an assignment in Hawaii, was already working full time while in the process of looking for an apartment, and had not yet had time to visit a local OB-GYN or attend a birthing class.

For a woman as pregnant as Krissy, shouldn’t finding a local OB-GYN and attending a birthing class have been the first two things she’d done upon arriving in the area where she’d be having her baby?

“What are you doing here?” Krissy asked Kira.

“A nurse called me.”

“Why did a nurse call you? I didn’t ask a nurse to call you.” She directed her question and statement to Kira. But she directed one heck of a look at Spencer.

Yes. He’d asked the nurse to call Krissy’s sister. A woman, in the hospital, possibly about to lose her baby would want her sister with her, wouldn’t she? Based on the look she’d given him, apparently not.

“Why did a nurse call me?” Kira said. “Maybe because my sister is in the hospital and couldn’t be bothered to call me herself, that’s why. What happened?”

“Don’t look so worried,” Krissy said to Kira. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Kira said, her eyes roaming over the fetal monitor reading then up to the cardiac monitor. “I told you to get in to see a local OB-GYN as soon as possible.”

“Exactly!”

Krissy shot him a glare so fierce it would have burned all the flesh from his face, if such a thing were possible. Okay, so he probably should have kept his opinion to himself. You’re just screwing up left and right today, aren’t you?

To his surprise, rather than lay into him, Krissy turned to Kira and calmly said, “I didn’t call because I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want you to drop everything and run over here, which is exactly what I knew you’d do.” She reached out and held Kira’s hand. “Between managing Derrick’s office and helping Tippy care for Mom and being pregnant yourself, you have enough to deal with. I told you I could do this on my own and I will.”

A snippet from Jarrod’s letter flashed in his mind.

Krissy will try to do everything on her own, but she can’t. She’ll need help. And since I’m not there, I expect you, my oldest and best friend, my blood brother since the third grade, to be there for her.

“I don’t want to be another burden,” Krissy went on.

“You’re not a burden,” Kira said. “You have never been a burden. You’re my sister and I love you.” She bent down to hug Krissy.

Krissy hugged her back. “I love you, too. And I did listen to you. I visited my doctor in Hawaii the day before I left. He examined me and said everything was fine. He recommended to follow up in two to three weeks. I’ve been researching doctors and asking around. As luck would have it, the doctor who saw me today was one of the ones I was considering. He’s agreed to take me on as a patient. So there, you see?” She lifted her hands off of the bed. “No need for you to worry about me.”

Then she whipped her evil eyes back to Spencer. “Now that my sister’s here, you can go.” Krissy dismissed him. “She’ll give me a ride home.”

“But the doctor—” Spencer tried.

“Don’t.” The about-to-commit-murder expression she gave him softened when she turned to look at Derrick. “You’ll talk to the doctor,” she said sweetly, “and get him to let me go home tonight, won’t you Derrick?”

“Why wouldn’t he let you go home tonight?” Kira asked, obviously worried.

“Because she came in hypertensive,” Spencer answered.

“It’s not a big deal,” Krissy said to Kira. “Really. As if all the hideous and uncomfortable changes your body goes through during pregnancy aren’t enough, a new fun fact I learned today, is that when your baby gets to be a certain size, he can kick your bladder and make you pee yourself and think your water’s broken and you’re going into early labor. I panicked. That’s all. My blood pressure shot up and now it’s back down. It’s been stable throughout my pregnancy. Today was a fluke, a one-time response to an upsetting event.”

She’d failed to mention the sharp pain and resulting abdominal tightness she’d felt just prior to her thinking her water had broken. This time he kept quiet. But even that didn’t save him.

“Part of the reason I came in hypertensive,” she said to Spencer, looking like she was trying very hard to stay in control, “is because you made me go hypertensive.” She jabbed her index finger in his direction. “The doctor said I need to stay calm and I can’t stay calm when you’re here because every time you open your mouth you upset me. Now get out of here.” She pointed to the door rather aggressively. “Before you make me burst a blood vessel in my head and have a stroke and you kill me and my baby.”

Spencer couldn’t help it. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Still have a flair for the dramatic, I see.”

Krissy threw her plastic cup of water at him. Luckily she had lousy aim. And there wasn’t much water in it.

“On a serious note.” Derrick took on what Spencer figured was his Dr. Limone voice. When he had everyone’s attention, he pointed at Krissy’s cardiac monitor.

Her heart rate and blood pressure, which had, in fact, returned to within normal limits soon after she’d learned her baby was okay, were both back on the rise. Riling her up in high school had provided him with hours of entertainment. Riling her up when she was pregnant and in the hospital? He needed to be more careful. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing as much sincerity as he could into his tone, because he was sorry, for real, and for more than teasing her in that moment.

“Why is he even here?” Kira asked. “What would make you pick Spencer Penn, of all people, to be your baby’s godfather?” She looked over at him. “No offense, Spencer. But last I remember, Krissy didn’t think all that highly of you.”

She probably didn’t think all that highly of him now, either. Justifiably so.

“Because that’s what Jarrod wanted,” Krissy said.

“Jarrod?” Kira asked. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“This is his baby.” Krissy caressed her large belly over the monitor straps, looking down at it, her expression soft and loving and so unexpected, as was the warmth that spread through him when he saw it. “A little boy,” she said, with a small smile. “Not to jinx anything, but I’ve already decided to name him Jarrod Junior and call him J.J.”

J.J. Spencer liked it. Jarrod would have liked it too.

He imagined a little boy with Jarrod’s mischievous smile and dimples running around and getting into trouble. Between that little bit of imagery and the baby’s heart beating loudly through the monitor, reality gave Spencer a second punch to the gut. Like it or not, Jarrod’s baby would soon be coming into the world. And he’d need a good man in his life.

Spencer glanced at the bed, at Krissy’s hands in particular. No wedding or engagement ring. Did she already have a man in her life? If so, she didn’t call him to tell him she was in the hospital. And she’d put Kira down as her emergency contact.

Not that it mattered. Spencer would be there too. To tell little J.J. all about his dad, to introduce him to the banana splits with chocolate sprinkles his dad had loved, to take him to baseball games and introduce him to rock music and teach him all the things he knew Jarrod would want his son to know.

“This is Jarrod’s baby?” Kira asked.

Surprising that Krissy hadn’t shared that bit of information with her sister.

“Wait a minute,” Kira added. “Your artificial insemination was done with Jarrod’s sperm? He had his sperm frozen before he died? And you...”

Krissy nodded.

Spencer had been cruel to insinuate Krissy would try to pass off another man’s baby as Jarrod’s. Deep down, he didn’t believe she’d do such a thing. But Kira mentioning Krissy’s artificial insemination put an immediate halt to any lingering question he may have had.

Krissy yawned, a big, totally exhausted looking yawn. “I’ll tell you everything. Later. I promise.” She repositioned herself in the bed. “Right now, I really need to close my eyes for a few minutes.” She found the bed controller and lowered the head of the bed.

“I’m going to go track down her doctor,” Derrick said as he left the room.

“I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee,” Spencer said, knowing Kira would be in the room if Krissy should need anything. But when he left the room, he didn’t go to grab a cup of coffee. He followed Derrick, hoping to listen in on his conversation with Krissy’s doctor.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_e4d6dc43-f764-5b3a-af9c-51b1e530ae50)

ON MONDAY MORNING, Krissy sat at the reception desk at Derrick’s office, helping Sara with answering phones and checking in/checking out patients, while Kira covered most of her nursing duties in the back. It was that or use a valuable sick day to stay home alone and rest, which would no doubt give her too much time to think about all she had to do before the baby came and worry about the actual giving birth part, which would be anything but restful. So Krissy had given in and agreed to Kira’s terms.

The good news, she was getting paid. With her delivery date fast approaching, every penny counted. Working the desk wasn’t so bad. And since Kira had been spending her time on the business side of nursing for the past few years, prior to taking on the job of office manager at Derrick’s family practice, her nursing skills were a little rusty, which meant Krissy still got to work with patients who needed injections, blood draws, and/or EKGs.

Krissy had just checked out a mother and her newborn baby following her first checkup when Spencer walked in followed by a thinner but equally fit and equally good looking man. Lord help her. Spencer in khakis and a polo shirt looked good. But Spencer in black dress slacks, a crisp white fitted dress shirt and a black tie was off the chart hot. To the point his hotness was making her hot...and bothered.

Based on the ‘You like what you see?’ expression on his face, again, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. The man was too cocky for his own good.

Krissy tilted her head down and pretended to look for something on the desk in front of her. “Stupid pregnancy hormones would have me doing the deed with the devil himself just to get some satisfaction.” Good thing Krissy had more self-control than that.

“So I’m the devil?” Spencer asked, standing right in front of her, with a way too amused smile on his nauseatingly handsome face. He handed her a folder.

Krissy took it. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Heck, she hadn’t even realized she’d said the words out loud. “I blame pregnancy brain.”

The look he gave her screamed, “You’re a total nut job,” although without words.

Maybe she was. “It’s a real thing. Look it up. It’s like a pregnant woman’s body is so busy growing another human being, the brain gets overloaded and doesn’t filter stuff that shouldn’t come out of her mouth or remember stuff she’s supposed to do. It doesn’t comprehend the same or think the same. I hope it goes back to working normally once all this is over.”

His smile made her insides feel all fluttery.

Then he opened his mouth. “Your brain never worked normally.”

“Careful,” she gave him the stink eye. “Or I’ll call Kira and tell her you’re upsetting me. She’s gotten even more overprotective now that I’m pregnant.” And more bossy and more opinionated and more of a pain in the butt—who Krissy loved dearly, but still a pain in the butt, which was why Krissy needed to find the energy to go apartment hunting.

“Hmmm,” Spencer said. “It’s not like you to let Kira fight your battles. You going to blame that on pregnancy brain too?”

“No. I’m going to blame that on mother-protecting-the-health-of-her-unborn-baby brain. Stop trying to upset me, Spencer. What do you want?”

He had the good sense to look contrite. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He leaned in and added, “And I’m sorry about the other day. When I told you—”

“Don’t.” She held up her hand to get him to stop talking. “You already apologized.” About ten times in ten different messages on her cell phone. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Or think about it. “So if that’s the only reason you’re here, you can take your friend and leave now.”

He looked at the man standing beside him. “This is Alfonso Gianelli, a newly acquired player with NYC United. He just arrived from Italy. I spoke with Derrick and then Kira yesterday. She said she could get him in for a full physical this morning. We’d like him to be able to start practicing with the team as soon as possible.”

Nice of her darling sister not to mention a word about it. Krissy held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Alfonso smiled a charming smile, brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Spencer flashed him an annoyed look and said something in what sounded like Italian. Alfonso dropped her hand.

Killjoy.

“He doesn’t speak much English,” Spencer said.

Krissy looked Alfonso over and smiled. “He doesn’t need to.”

“Is Kira here?”

“She’s in the back.” Krissy checked the spelling of Alfonso’s name on the paperwork Spencer had given her then wrote it on the label of a specimen cup and handed it to the patient along with two antiseptic cleansing wipes. “We’ll need a specimen for a basic urinalysis,” she told Spencer. “Does he need a drug screen?”

“Already done.”

“Bathroom’s over there.” Krissy pointed.

Spencer spoke to Alfonso in Italian and the other man walked toward the bathroom.

Krissy couldn’t stop herself from watching him walk away, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “That is one fine backside on that man.” Tight and round and just begging to be squeezed.

“Stop trying to make me jealous,” Spencer snapped.

“I’m not trying to make you jealous.” For that to happen he’d have to care about her, even the tiniest bit, which he didn’t. “I’m merely stating my opinion.” If verbalizing her opinion bothered Spencer, well, bonus points for that!

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Now he was going to be nice? Which meant she should be nice too? Fine. “I’m feeling well. No more pains. Derrick has been checking my blood pressure three times a day. Mornings and afternoons it’s been running around one hundred and thirty-eight systolic, seventy-four diastolic. In the evenings it’s been spiking a bit. But I think that’s because by the evening time I’ve taken all I can handle of Kira commenting on everything I do and eat and telling me what I should be doing and eating.” She lowered her voice and looked him straight in the eye when she added, “While I know she loves me and just wants what’s best for me, she is absolutely driving me crazy, more crazy than you drive me, which is something I’d never thought possible. If I don’t find an apartment soon there’s a good chance I might wind up back in the hospital strapped to a bed in an isolation room for the rest of my pregnancy.”

And he was smiling again. Frustrating man. “You find something amusing about me being strapped to a bed in an isolation room for the rest of my pregnancy?”

His smile grew. He didn’t even try to hide it. “I find you amusing, Krissy. Always have.”

She looked away. “Not always.”

A woman carrying a small child walked in and got in line behind Spencer. Krissy leaned to the side to see her. “May I help you?” She needed a little break from the soon-to-be godfather of her baby.

Spencer stepped away, far enough to respect the woman’s privacy while Krissy checked her in. “You’re all set.” Krissy gave the woman a friendly smile as she handed back her insurance card. “A nurse will be with you in a few minutes.”

No sooner had the woman left to find a seat in the waiting room, Alfonso returned. Perfect timing. Krissy held out a little plastic tray and he set his urine specimen on it. Then she placed their new patient paperwork on a clipboard, hooked on a pen, and handed it to Spencer. “Do the best you can to help him fill this out. When you’re done, I’ll take you back.”

While Spencer and Alfonso took two chairs in the waiting room, Krissy accessed the computer system to see if Kira had already set up a new patient file for Alfonso. Of course her ever efficient sister had. Then she walked Alfonso’s urine specimen back to their small lab, slid on a pair of latex gloves, and completed a dipstick urinalysis. After waiting the required length of time, she loaded the normal results into the computer on the counter.

“Hey,” Kira said from behind her. “Why aren’t you out at the desk?”

Krissy turned around to face her. “Why didn’t you warn me Spencer was coming in today?”

Kira walked over to grab the phlebotomy tray. “Because I didn’t know he’d be here. He called the answering service over the weekend. They’ve been having problems getting immediate appointments with the general practitioner they’d been using. He asked if we could complete a physical exam on a new player today. He said someone on the athletic training staff would be bringing him over.” She handed the phlebotomy tray to Krissy. “Since you’re here, I need blood drawn in room three. Orders are here.” Kira handed Krissy her laptop. “I’ll go get started on the physical exam for Spencer’s soccer player.”

“No need.” Krissy stood. “I’ll do it.”

“You sure you feel up to it?” Kira studied her. “When I say feel up to it, I mean mentally and emotionally. He had you pretty upset the other day.”

“If Spencer is going to be a part of my baby’s life, I need to learn how to deal with him.” She walked toward the door. “Best I do it in a medical setting where there’s resuscitative equipment available.”

After drawing five tubes of blood from a middle-aged female and packaging them to be picked up for processing, Krissy freshened the paper liner on the exam table in room nine then returned to the waiting room. “Alfonso Gianelli,” she called out.

Alfonso smiled and stood. Spencer stood, too. When the men approached, Krissy said to Alfonso, “Are you okay with him going in with you?”

Alfonso looked at Spencer who said something in Italian.

Alfonso turned back to Krissy and said, “Yes.”

Krissy looked up at Spencer. “How do I know what he’s saying ‘yes’ to?”

“I’m here to translate,” Spencer said. “Word for word.” He walked past her. “Where do you want us?”

Krissy walked them back to the scale and took Alfonso’s height and weight. Then, with his back to the eye chart—because Krissy didn’t trust him not to cheat—Spencer helped translate Alfonso’s letters for the eye exam. After that Krissy walked them to the exam room where she completed a hearing exam and took Alfonso’s temperature, pulse, respirations, and blood pressure. Spencer watched every move she made.

After going through the physical exam health screening questions—with Spencer’s help—and entering all of the information into her laptop, Krissy took an exam gown from the drawer and handed it to Alfonso. “Please tell him to take everything off. The gown opens in the back.”

No sooner had she escaped to the hallway, Spencer caught up with her. “Hey,” he said, gently taking her by the arm. “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

“I’m working.” Krissy tried to pull away.

He released her. “I know. So am I. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Fine. Krissy switched the plastic markers to the right of the door to red, indicating the patient was ready to be seen by the doctor. Then she led Spencer into the staff lunchroom. Once inside she closed the door, picked up the receiver on the wall-mounted phone, and called the front desk. “I’m taking a break in the lunchroom if anyone needs me.”

After hanging up, she crossed her arms over her large belly and turned to look at Spencer. “You have two minutes.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Go.”

He reached into the front pocket of his slacks and took out a folded up sheet of paper. “I know you’re supposed to be resting. Which I hope you’re doing?”

Since he looked more concerned than confrontational, she told him, “I am. And I’m taking it easy at work, too. Believe me, Kira makes sure of it.”

“Good. Figuring you might be too tired to do it yourself, I did some research,” he held up the paper. “From what I’ve read, a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy, which you’re in, should take Lamaze classes to learn how to breathe and cope with contractions, even if she’s thinking of getting an epidural.”

Wow. Of all the words that could have come out of Spencer Penn’s mouth at that moment, Krissy never would have expected to hear ‘Lamaze classes’ and ‘epidural’ tossed into a conversation.

When she didn’t respond, because, wow, she was still trying to process what’d just happened, Spencer kept right on talking. “This is a list of local hospitals and their birthing classes, everything from baby care to breastfeeding.”

Krissy fought back a smile. Did Spencer Penn really just say the word breastfeeding? This entire encounter could only be described as bizarre.

Either he didn’t pick up on her amusement or he didn’t care. “Your doctor’s office probably gives Lamaze classes, most do. You should find out about that when you go for your first appointment there. Is Kira going to be your coach?”

“My coach?”

“Come on, Krissy. You’re killing me.”

He rubbed his hand over his head and Krissy wondered if his hair was as soft as it looked. Jeez. Where the heck had that come from? She shook her head to clear her wayward thoughts and get back on topic.

“Haven’t you thought about who’s going to be in the delivery room with you?”

No, she hadn’t. In fact, she purposely worked very hard to occupy her mind so she didn’t have to think about it, which was getting tougher and tougher as her delivery date approached. Of course Kira would do it if she asked, but her sister already had so many responsibilities. Too many responsibilities. Yet the thought of going through it alone...she looked away from him through the window to the parking lot outside so he couldn’t see her fear. “Boy, you’re taking this godfather stuff pretty seriously. I’d kind of figured your responsibilities wouldn’t start until after the baby is born. So you can relax.” And back off. Unless...she swung back around. “Unless you don’t trust me to do what’s best for my baby.” That had to be it. “Unless you don’t think I’m capable of managing—”

“Whoa.” He held up both hands. “Calm down. I’m not here to upset you, I’m trying to help.”

“Well I don’t need your help. And I don’t need Kira’s help. I’m going to do this on my own. I can do it on my own. I will do it on my own.” She repeated her mantra of late.

“But you don’t have to do it on your own, Krissy. Jarrod wouldn’t want you to go through all of this on your own.”

Jarrod. God how she missed him, how she wished he was here. Tears pricked her eyes.

“Let me help you.”

“Why would you want to help me?” she snapped. “You blame me for Jarrod’s death.” Now she blamed herself, too. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Even though he towered over her, Krissy stared him down. “Liar.”

“I don’t. I know you’re not responsible for Jarrod’s death. He was an adult. He made his own decisions, however misguided they may have been. I’m sorry for what I said and how I acted when you came to my apartment. I was mean. You didn’t deserve it. Seems I had some unresolved issues where Jarrod’s death was concerned. But I’m over them now.” He motioned to a chair. “Please, sit down. You look ready to collapse.”

Now that he mentioned it, she kind of felt ready to collapse, too. Probably because this was the most energy she’d exerted since she’d left the hospital three days ago. So she sat.

Spencer sat, too.

“Glad I was available to help you resolve your issues,” Krissy said, even if, as a result, she now felt even more weighted down by guilt. “Happy to be of service.” In truth she wasn’t happy at all. Rather than look at him, Krissy reached to take a packet of artificial sweetener from the basket in the center of the table and started flipping it between her fingers.

“Hey.” Spencer reached over, slid a knuckle under her chin, and tilted her face up so she had to look at him. “I’m sorry, truly sorry, from the bottom of my cold, unfeeling heart,” he said, with such sincerity she believed him. But the damage was done, the truth had come out—about Jarrod and about what Spencer really thought of her—and there’d be no unhearing it.

Only moving her eyes, Krissy glanced at the clock on the microwave. “You’ve exceeded your two minutes.” She didn’t like this nice, self-deprecating version of Spencer, didn’t like the way it made her feel, didn’t know how to respond to it.

Spencer released her chin and held out his hand. “Can we have a truce? Maybe start fresh?”

“Why?”

He reached down to her lap and took her hand into his. “We were friends once, good friends for a long time.”

But they weren’t friends anymore.

“And that’s my best friend’s baby in there.” He pointed to her belly. “Can’t we put our differences aside and do what’s best for Jarrod’s baby?”

Rather than remind him that little J.J. was part her baby too, Krissy thought about his proposal. She’d spent most of the last five and a half years traveling from place to place and had no local friends, as in good friends she’d feel comfortable calling for help in the middle of the night, in White Plains, where she now lived to be close to her sister. It’d be nice to know, in case of emergency, she had someone she could call aside from Kira and Derrick.

“Come on,” Spencer said with a handsome smile. He let go of her hand and held his out. “Friends?”

After a brief hesitation, more to make him wait than anything else, Krissy shook it. “Friends.”

“Good.” Spencer unfolded the paper he’d set down on the table and turned it so she could read what he’d written.

“On top,” he pointed, “is the hospital information. Down here,” he moved his finger lower, “is the rental agent for my building.”

“Whoa.” Krissy sat back. “No.”

“It’s not my intent to overstep, but you mentioned you needed an apartment.”

“I am not moving into your building.”

He looked offended. “Why not? It’s nice. It has security. It has ample parking and is close to shopping, Derrick’s office, and White Plains Hospital. Also, I checked, they have two one bedroom units and three two bedroom units available for immediate occupancy. With a recommendation from me, you could probably be in by the end of this week, early next, assuming your credit’s okay.”

While Krissy liked the sound of ‘immediate occupancy’, “I can’t afford it.”

“I happen to know you were the sole beneficiary of a huge life insurance policy. You couldn’t possibly have...” He hesitated, his eyes studying her face as he seemed to be trying to figure out the safest way to finish his statement.

Krissy stared back, at a crossroad. She could pounce on him for even thinking she’d blow through all the money Jarrod had left her. Or she could avoid confrontation and take the high road, so to speak, which is what she decided to do. After all, Spencer was trying to be nice. She could try too. “I have every cent Jarrod left me, and it’s been accruing interest for the past five years.”

Spencer let out a relieved breath. “Good. Then you can afford—”

“No I can’t. I need someplace cheap. What if my baby is a genius and wants to go to an Ivy League college? I want to be able to send him. Then there’s graduate school or medical school.”

Spencer smiled. “Getting a little ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? The baby’s not even born yet and you’re planning his college education?”

“No. I’m being a responsible parent and trying to ensure the best future I can give my and Jarrod’s son.”

Spencer simply stared at her with an odd look on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he answered, glancing away. “I just...didn’t...”

Krissy finished for him, “Expect I’d want to be a good, responsible parent?” She could have gotten offended. Instead she looked down at her belly and rubbed each side. “Jarrod entrusted me with a part of him. He believed in me, believed I’d make a good mother for his child. I’m honored to have his baby, to give his parents a grandson. I loved him, maybe not the same way he loved me,” she wiped at a tear threatening to spill out of her right eye, “but I did love him. And I love our baby and will do everything in my power to see he grows up happy and healthy and is afforded every opportunity I can give him.”

She lifted her eyes to Spencer. “I’m not the same person I was in high school. I may not do things according to everyone else’s schedule, but I do what needs to be done by the time it needs to be done.”

She pushed back from the table and stood. “Thank you for this information.” She picked the paper up from the table, folded it, and slid it into the pocket of her scrub top.

Spencer stood, too. “I picked my apartment building, because I’m there. Well, not all the time. It’s soccer season now, so I’m busier than during off season. I rotate traveling to away games with another assistant athletic trainer.” He slid his hands into the front pockets in his slacks, the move relaxed and confident and oh, so sexy. “What I’m trying to say is, I thought it would be nice for you to have a friend close by just in case. Middle of the night? I can hop on the elevator, be there in minutes, rather than getting into the car and driving to wherever you are. Unless there’s some other guy you’d rather call, then by all means, call him. Either way, I don’t plan on bothering you.”





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