Her Hired Husband

She looked startled, but misgiving continued to crinkle her forehead. “Don’t be silly. I pay my way. Now move. I’m calling an ambulance!”

“Your grandfather wants no part of hospitals and considering what he told me, I think he’s right.”

“Oh, you think he’s right, do you?” Her sarcasm was so thick Noah would have been hard-pressed to cut it with a saw. “I’m so relieved!”

A knock sounded at the door and the pregnant little chest-poker froze. “Who could that be?”

How would he know? “It’s probably for me,” Noah taunted.

She made a face at his gibe before turning toward the door. He had a feeling he knew who was at the door and halted her with a hand on her wrist while he fished his wallet out of his hip pocket. “Give him this.”

She frowned in confusion, as he pulled out two twenties and a ten and stuffed them into her hand.

“What’s this for?”

“Just hang on to it.”

She started to say something but another knock snapped her head around and she hurried to the door.

“Yes?”

Noah couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell the visitor was a man.

“Oh!” His hostess said in a half whisper. “Oh, my…” She stepped out on the porch and closed the door for a count of three, then was back. Her face had gone a rosy-peach color.

“Was it for me?” he kidded with a lift of an eyebrow.

His question seemed to bring her out of some kind of daze and she flicked her attention to him. “No—it was—an orderly…”

“Did you give him the fifty?”

“He took it,” she whispered, still looking befuddled. “He—he said I owed it…” After a second, her features closed in a glower. She walked to Noah and got as close as her pregnancy would allow. “Just who are you and what are you doing here?”

He frowned back, mocking her. “I tried to tell you when I got here.”

The color drained from her face. “Why don’t you tell me now?”

He checked his watch. Time was rapidly slipping away. “I’m a friend of Sam’s, and if I’m going to catch my flight, I need to get out of here.”

“Are you a—a real doctor, by chance?” she asked, her voice weak.

“Not by chance, by eight years of medical school.”

That horrified look returned. She had gigantic eyes, a glimmery silver color he couldn’t recall seeing before. Her white-blond hair was pulled back to her nape in a loose ponytail. Flyaway wisps framed her face in a feathery halo. Her right earlobe sported three studs, all silver, a heart, a ladybug and a hummingbird. Her left, just the heart. A bright pink T-shirt peeked out from beneath a paisley maternity dress. He could see her shapely legs from just above her knees down to purple crush socks and yellow, high-top canvas shoes.

She was nothing like he’d pictured Sam Johnson’s little sister might be. Sam was a dark, quiet, button-down guy in wire-rimmed glasses. His doctorly regard gave nothing away. Noah seriously doubted Little Mrs. Bountiful, here, had kept an emotion to herself in her whole life.

She had an electricity about her that was distinct and magnetic. He could feel it arcing through the air, blunting his brain. That had to be it, since he couldn’t imagine how his current circumstances would seem even vaguely palatable but for those big, animated eyes.

“So—so you’re really a doctor?” The question was subdued and filled with astonishment, as though she’d just asked, So you’re really the Tooth Fairy?

“I’ve got my doctor decoder ring and everything,” he teased, taking pity on her, and unsure why. Possibly those big eyes, now a little teary.

“I thought you were—”

“I know. Forget it,” he said. “Sam asked me to come by on my way to the airport to pick up his prescription goggles. The flight to Bonaire leaves in an hour, so I need to get to the airport.” He stuck out a hand, deciding he had just enough time for a quick introduction. “I’m Noah Barrett. Sam and I are going scuba diving. Does that ring any bells?”

She swallowed and slipped her hand into his. He was startled to feel calluses on her palm, and her handshake was strong. What did this little female do all day, dig ditches? “Sam said something about scuba diving,” she murmured. “I knew he was leaving on vacation today.”

Noah cocked his head toward the parlor. “Did your grandmother tell you what caused her scare?”

It wasn’t until the blonde removed her hand that Noah realized he hadn’t let go. “She saw a gecko run by and apparently assumed it was some kind of plague-carrying, Texas vermin.” His fake wife shrugged, looking unhappy. “I guess it got in when I was outside with you. I think I convinced her the poor lizard wouldn’t hurt her, and was more frightened than she was.” She made a disgusted face. “Grandmother thinks Texas is a thousand miles away from civilization and expects to see man-eating rodents.”

“I gathered they didn’t come here for the sheer joy of it.”

“Why they came is beyond me,” she said. “The sooner we get them out of here, the better.”

“They can’t leave.”

His statement drew her sharp gaze. “What—what do you mean they can’t leave?”

“Your grandfather’s in pain.”

“What about a hospital? Pain is their thing!”

He watched her solemnly, wondering at her anxious hostility. “Hubert doesn’t need hospitalization. Just bed rest. I don’t think anyone could get him inside a hospital unless he was unconscious.”

She glanced quickly toward the parlor, her expression a mix of belligerence and panic. “Well, he can’t stay here.”

“Why not? He’s your grandfather.”

“Because I don’t want him here!”

Noah shook his head, baffled. “They’re family.”

“So? They never acted like family—not while…” She closed her mouth. “Why I don’t want them here is not your concern.”

She was absolutely right. Noah was vaguely curious about this new wrinkle, since as a boy he’d crossed the Vanderkellens’ path at this-or-that Boston social function. But he didn’t have time to indulge his curiosity. Bowing his head slightly, he ended the argument. “Have it your way. I’ll get Sam’s goggles and go.”

He indicated the direction of the kitchen. “Sam thought they might be on the screened porch. I assume it’s back there?”

The blonde’s furrowed brow didn’t ease. “I haven’t seen them, but yes, the porch is off the kitchen.” She waved him away, making it clear she had more urgent problems to contend with. “Check if you want.”

He took a step, then stopped. “By the way,” he whispered. “What’s your name?”

She blinked as though being dragged back from some dark place. “What?”

“Your name?”