The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? / The Texas Billionaire's Baby. Susan Crosby

looking into the distance, probably devising some chemical formula in his head—or maybe planning when he would see Tricia again. Or maybe he’d just heard the story too many times for it to have impact. To Sara Beth it was incredibly romantic.

      By the time the party moved into the dining room, another place setting had been added. They were served an incredible meal by a small, wiry, white-haired man named Louis, who looked to be in his eighties and who winked at Sara Beth when she’d momentarily been overwhelmed by the situation. She relaxed then and enjoyed the seared salmon with ginger-lime sauce, roasted asparagus and brown rice with scallions. Dessert was carrot cake, an anniversary tradition because it had been Brant and Penny’s groom’s cake.

      Conversation happened around her. Questions asked and answered, memories shared. “Remember when?” became Tricia’s catchphrase, grating in Sara Beth’s ears after the third time. And since Sara Beth didn’t know enough about Ted, nor did she have a history with him, she couldn’t counter anything Tricia said with a memory of her own. Ted didn’t seem to notice, just nodded and kept eating.

      “Remember the time we sailed to Providence?” Tricia asked Ted as Louis cleared the dessert plates. “We capsized,” she said to Sara Beth. “He saved my life. My hero.”

      “You know, I’ve think we’ve bored Sara Beth with history for long enough,” Ted said. He set his hand on the back of Sara Beth’s chair, gave her what seemed like a tender look, almost bringing tears to her eyes, even though she knew he was only putting on a show for his parents.

      She stopped being mad at him.

      “We should be going,” he said.

      “Me, too,” Tricia said, patting her lips with her napkin.

      Their farewells were brief. “I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time that I was coming,” Sara Beth said to Ted’s parents.

      “Please don’t concern yourself,” Penny said. “We were thrilled he brought you. Truly, Sara Beth, your presence was a lovely gift.”

      Ted and Sara Beth left the house with Tricia, after Ted helped the woman into her coat. Sara Beth had figured out they must have dated in high school, and had seen each other at some point since, but none of Tricia’s remember-whens seemed recent.

      “Maybe if we both get after him,” Tricia said, looking over her shoulder at Sara Beth, “Ted will finally furnish his loft. Penny says it reminds her of a college student. Do you agree?”

      Sara Beth debated whether to admit she hadn’t seen his place. “He works a lot.” She felt Ted’s hand cup her shoulder and squeeze.

      “I heard. Penny wanted me to volunteer to take on the job of decorating for him. I have a knack for that sort of thing.”

      “I’ll get around to it,” Ted said.

      “You’ve apparently been saying that for months.”

      “And I’ve meant it for months. When things lighten up at work, I’ll take care of it.”

      “I already promised to help him,” Sara Beth said, fed up with how the woman kept pushing.

      To his credit, Ted didn’t blink an eye at the lie. He just lowered his arm to Sara Beth’s waist. His hand felt hot through her coat, which was an impossibility, she knew. Still …

      “Really?” Tricia’s brows arched. She looked Sara Beth over again, as if examining her for some kind of decorator gene—and coming up empty. “Why didn’t you just say so, Ted?”

      “He’s a man,” Sara Beth explained. “He doesn’t like to admit he can’t do something, you know?” She felt him laugh beside her and felt warm despite the cold night.

      “Well, here we are,” Tricia said, stopping next to a silver BMW. “Maybe we could have lunch?” she asked Ted. “Catch up. For old time’s sake. Just friends, you realize,” she said to Sara Beth.

      For old time’s sake? Right. For now. Her interest in Ted was as obvious as the cut of her neckline—low and open for invitation.

      “I don’t have much free time,” Ted said, squeezing Sara Beth’s waist a little tighter.

      She leaned into him and smiled at Tricia.

      “I’m sure we can work something out,” Tricia said. “Mother and Father would love to see you, too.”

      “We’ll see.”

      “Ted and I met when we were children, too,” she said to Sara Beth. “Just like his parents.”

      “Without the same results,” Sara Beth said, fed up.

      “Good night, Tricia,” Ted said in a tone meant to shut down the conversation.

      He maneuvered Sara Beth past her and headed for his car, his arm still around her waist, even though he no longer needed to put on a show. He’d touched her earlier, twice. First, he’d accidentally touched her breast, catching her off guard—and himself, she could tell. Then later, at his parents’ house, he’d rested his hand lightly against her lower back. It had startled her, because it was deliberate. But looking back now, maybe that wasn’t all. Maybe it was the touch itself, which had revved her up.

      “Thanks for the save,” Ted said as they drove off a minute later. “And for realizing I needed saving.”

      “You were looking a little desperate.” She smiled. “I’m kidding. What is your home like?”

      “It’s the top floor of a converted warehouse with a rooftop garden. That I never use.”

      She sighed. “If I had a garden, I’d rarely be indoors.”

      “There’s no garden in the backyard of your house?”

      “There is, but I’m just the renter. It’s owned by a horticulture researcher at Harvard. I’m not allowed to touch his garden. Everything’s an experiment.”

      “How long have you lived there?”

      “Three years.”

      “I was envying your sofa earlier. Reminded me I should order one myself.”

      “So your loft does looks like a college student’s?”

      “It’s … minimalist.”

      She smiled at that.

      “I don’t even know what’s kept me from getting it decorated. I could order furniture online, so it’s not like I’d have to spend time going from store to store. I just haven’t done it. Chance gets after me, too.”

      She hesitated a long time before she said, “I take it you don’t entertain much.” How personal was she allowed to get?

      “I never entertain. I should be reciprocating invitations. My mother drilled that particular etiquette into my head. Until I furnish the place, I can’t.”

      “What’s your style?”

      “It would still be minimalist, but also comfortable. I have art—paintings and other pieces that I’ve collected or been given. They’re piled in a corner. I suppose it makes sense to decorate around them.” He pulled up in front of her house. “Do you see parking anywhere?”

      “You don’t need to bother.” She gathered her coat around her and opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”

      He looked at her directly. “You’ve met my mother.”

      She laughed. “Well, she’s not here to see your breach of etiquette. Really, Ted, you could end up driving around for fifteen minutes. I don’t need to be walked to the door.” This wasn’t a real date, anyway, she reminded herself.

      “Thank you for going with me tonight. You saved my hide.” He reached over and pressed her shoulder, his fingertips grazing her neck.

      Her breath caught.