Marriage by Contract Part 2. Sandra Steffen

at Beth, she said, “I can’t wait to see your face when you open the gift from me. You will be happy. Sí?”

      Beth didn’t fully understand the reason for all the elbow jabbing and jovial laughter, but she said a silent prayer of thanks for the poise she’d learned as a child. Accepting the plate of food being pushed into one hand and the gift being pressed into the other, she pasted a smile on her face and pretended that everything was right with the world.

      * * *

      Tony’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it and tried to relax, but it was nothing compared to the sound it made when he jumped to his feet a second later. At this rate, he was going to wear the blasted thing out, which was exactly what he would do to the new carpet if he didn’t stop pacing.

      His last patient of the day had canceled. It was a good thing. His concentration had been nil ever since Beth had told him that she couldn’t have children.

      Good God. Beth couldn’t have children.

      He still couldn’t believe it. But at least a few things about Bethany Kent were beginning to make sense. He remembered thinking it was strange when she’d brought up the subject of marriage. Strange, hell. It had left him speechless.

      Face it, Petrocelli. The woman has been leaving you speechless since the night of the blackout.

      That was true enough, but those other bouts of raw surprise had been sexual in nature. In comparison, her disclosure concerning her inability to have children had felt like a kick in the chest.

      Tony strode to the window, but for once in his life, the view of the mountains rising in the west failed to reach him. A dozen images of Beth played through his mind. He could practically see the lone tear that had trailed down her cheek that night when Christopher had been born. He could practically hear the depth of emotion in her voice each time she mentioned the baby’s name. She loved that child. There was no doubt about it. She deserved to have him, too. There was no doubt about that, either. But she couldn’t have children. And if he married her, he couldn’t, either.

      He paced to the other side of the room. Running a hand through his hair, he turned and repeated the process.

      Beth didn’t have to tell him about her infertility. That fact had left him in awe of her strength of character. But dammit, it also filled him with doubts and questions. All jokes about his Don Juan image aside, he took his commitment to his family very seriously. He’d always assumed he’d meet the right woman and settle down to raise a family like each and every one of his sisters had done. It was the Petrocelli way. How could he even consider marrying a woman who couldn’t give him children, or his parents grandchildren?

      He didn’t know why he left his office, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he hoped to gain from standing outside the nursery, watching Christopher sleep. The baby’s hand jerked, then slowly relaxed, his little mouth suckling an invisible bottle. Tony knew it was a reflex action. But then, so was the clenching in his own gut.

      Laughter and raised voices carried to his ears from someplace down the hall. Of their own volition, his feet followed the sound. He came to a stop a few feet from the employee lounge. Holding very still, he stood in the doorway, silently watching. Balloons bobbed from a centerpiece on one of the tables, voices rose and laughter trailed from one side of the room to the other. Beth stood in the midst of it all, looking regal and poised. He wondered if he was the only one who saw the stiffness in her shoulders or the forced brightness in her smile.

      “Open mine next,” Kitty Garcia insisted, thrusting a brightly colored package into Beth’s hands.

      There was a lot of speculation as Beth slid her finger beneath a piece of tape and lifted the paper away. “Hold it up!” someone yelled. “This I’ve gotta see.”

      Using both hands, Beth pulled a see-through scrap of lace and red satin from the box. A blush tinged her cheeks, but she played along, holding the skimpy teddy to her body, smoothing her hand down its length. She chose that moment to look his way, her gaze meeting his from the other side of the room. Karen Sloane nudged her, and a heartbeat later, the other woman waved. Beth’s lips lifted in a semblance of a smile, and Tony felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him all over again. He returned Karen’s wave and did his best to return Beth’s smile, but it wasn’t easy. Hell, breathing wasn’t easy.

      “Come on in, Tony,” somebody yelled.

      Others took up the cry, but Tony only stood there, holding Beth’s gaze. She lowered her hands, the teddy dangling from two fingers. Something intense flared through him. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he’d never felt anything quite like it in his life. This wasn’t just a simple case of him wanting a woman. There was nothing simple about it.

      “Come on, Doctor! Have a piece of cake.”

      Tony hesitated, casting a cursory glance at the people in the room. He knew that if he took that next step, there would be no turning back. Glancing back at Beth, a jolt went through him, a thought close on its heels. Tony Petrocelli had been raised to trust two things: his Grandma Rosa’s homemade pasta sauce, and his gut instinct. And his gut instinct told him he wanted Bethany Kent.

      That want was complicated, not to mention confusing. But he’d been confused before, and truth be told, he liked complications, at least the kind that left him feeling strong and masculine and more alive than he’d felt in a long, long time.

      With his eyes trained on Beth, he walked into the room.

      Chapter Four

      “Goodbye, Beth, see you tomorrow!”

      “Yeah, bye, Bethany. Bye, Dr. Petrocelli!”

      “Goodbye! Thanks for everything,” Beth called from the doorway, waving as the last two guests left the party. Suddenly, the employee lounge seemed awfully quiet.

      “Would you close the door?” Tony asked from a few feet behind her.

      Although she would have preferred to postpone their conversation, she closed the door and slowly turned around. She hadn’t known what to make of the sight of him standing in the doorway half an hour ago, and she certainly didn’t know what to make of the sight of him standing an arm’s length away right now, but fear and hope were fighting over the butterflies in her stomach. And fear was winning.

      Tony was wearing his ordinary doctor attire—dress slacks, shirt and tie. There was, however, nothing ordinary about the barely there smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Rather than take the risk of reading too much into his expression, she waited for him to begin.

      Eyeing the lingerie and other gifts lying on a nearby table, he finally said, “Now that I know what goes on at bridal showers, I understand why my sisters like them so much. Add a stripper and a keg of beer, and they’re not much different from bachelor parties, are they?”

      From now on, Beth told herself, she was going to expect him to say the last thing she expected. Shaking her head slightly, she said, “Not all bridal showers are like this one. I had several prior to my first marriage, and believe me, they were all extremely prim and proper.”

      “No wonder the marriage failed.”

      He’d done it again. Surprised every coherent thought right out of her head. Luckily, her answer was automatic. “I think you and I both know why my marriage failed, Tony.”

      She had his undivided attention now. Lowering her voice slightly, she said, “I ran into Barry and his new wife last week. She was very beautiful, and very pregnant.”

      Tony didn’t say anything, and she surged ahead. “Barry couldn’t deal with my endometriosis. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.”

      Tony’s eyebrows rose slightly at the medical term. As a doctor, he knew it well. In mild to moderate cases, it made menstruation painful and conception difficult. In severe cases it made one excruciating and the other impossible. “What has your doctor done about your condition?” he asked levelly.