Her Christmas Baby Bump

“Fine. Don’t be jealous when I’m in the newspaper photos of the gala and you’re not.”

“As if I’d be in them anyway. They just want pics of the handsome American doctor who helps patients conceive the baby they want, advocates for adoption of adorable children and who just might be dancing with a beautiful woman.”

“They’re destined for disappointment, then. There’ll be too many people to talk into donating more for me to be distracted by a woman.”

“Unless the right woman is there to distract you. Which I know does happen periodically, though you never let them hang around long, poor things. You’re the most uncatchable doctor in this entire hospital.” She winked. “Hurry and get dressed now. You’re already past late.”

“Yes, Mom.” He took the clothes she shoved into his arms and had to smile at the way she mothered him. Not unlike the way his adoptive mother had, despite how messed up he’d been as a kid, which was challenging as hell for both his parents.

Thankfully, traffic wasn’t quite as bad as usual, and he made it to the hotel quicker than he’d expected. He took a second to catch his breath, surveying the elegantly appointed ballroom.

It was decorated for Christmas with tasteful table decorations of silver and gold balls in sleigh-shaped containers. Shiny twigs and sparkly something-or-others were tucked between them, and red, pink and white poinsettias sat everywhere in eye-catching groups. Big-band music filled the room, the fifteen-piece orchestra he’d hired in full swing. Glittery Christmas trees stood here and there on the edges of the room, flanking the equally glittery women and tuxedo-clad men.

Aaron smiled. Sue had outdone herself. Might just be a record crowd of well-heeled guests, most of them smiling, talking and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres, clearly enjoying themselves.

Opening their wallets, too, which was the whole reason for this event. November was a little early for a Christmas party, but it was better not to compete with all the December holiday stuff going on out there. He had to admit he was proud that, in just three years, this event had become the must-go-to social extravaganza of Cambridge, with people coming from quite a few places well beyond the city. Paying for top-notch entertainment and food was necessary to attract the kind of attendees he needed to reach his fund-raising goals.

His stomach growled as he watched someone take a bite of chicken on a stick. Better grab some food before his belly embarrassed him as he tried to talk to guests. He took a little of everything so he could eliminate any mediocre items from next year’s gala menu. Even if he’d moved on to a different hospital and city by then, he’d have a thick file to pass on to whoever took over after he left.

Aaron had just stuck a bite in his mouth when his gaze was drawn to the doorway. He nearly swallowed a shrimp whole when he saw the vision standing there.

She was tall and graceful, and the cascade of golden blond hair that had caught his eye the first time he’d seen her long ago was instead elegantly piled on top of her head. Wispy tendrils touched her cheeks and the long, slender curve of her neck. Her slim frame was accentuated by a long, pale blue dress that he would guess probably cost a tenth of what most of the women in this room had spent on their clothes, but she looked more gorgeous than any of them. Pretty much every time he’d passed by her in the hospital, he’d been struck by how amazingly good she managed to look in shapeless scrubs. But this woman?

This woman knocked his socks off.

He didn’t know anything about her, except that she was one of the midwives at the hospital. He’d taken a second and third glance at her every time he’d seen her in a hallway, and who wouldn’t? The woman was pure eye candy and obviously smart, too, but since his work didn’t involve delivering the babies he helped parents create, he’d never had the pleasure of her acquaintance.

Maybe tonight was the night to change that. To tell her he was glad that at least a few of the midwives he’d invited had decided to come. To find out over a glass of champagne what adoption stories of patients whose babies she’d delivered she was planning to share with some of the donors. To casually see if there was a wedding ring on her finger...

He went to the lectern standing in front of a retractable screen that had been set up opposite the band to give his presentation. Applause met his speech and the slides he showed of the other Christmas party the foundation hosted each year, where children wanting a home met parents considering adoption. Then more pictures of happy families newly bonded together.

The nods of approval and glowing smiles around the room made him smile, too. A good sign that quite a few folks would give even more than the price their tickets had provided to the charity named after his adoptive parents, The Tom and Caroline Cartwright Foundation. When he was finished speaking he worked the crowd, shaking hands and answering questions.

The music started up again, and as people moved to the dance floor he took advantage of the break to grab a cold sparkling water. He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch another look at the beautiful blonde midwife and maybe introduce himself.

“Nice party you’ve got going here, Aaron.”

He turned to see Sean Anderson standing next to him, holding a plate piled high with shrimp and crab cakes. The Aussie obstetrician had been at Cambridge Royal Maternity Unit for only a month or so, but Aaron had already seen the guy was both dedicated and talented.

“Thanks, but I can’t take credit for all of it. Or any of it, if you ask my office manager. She spent months pulling this together.”

“Deserving or not, take credit when you can. That’s my motto.” Sean grinned. “Even if you didn’t plan the menu or send the invitations, I know you’re the brains behind the whole idea, so kudos to you for that. Placing children with potential adoptive parents, especially older kids, is something anybody can get behind.”

“I hope so. I also hope you and the other OBs will talk to folks about some of your patients who’ve found good homes for their babies, and parents who adopted. Those kinds of personal connections help a lot.”

The man seemed to be looking past Aaron now, and when his response finally came, he sounded distracted. “Uh, yes. Will do.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder and saw Isabel Delamere, another talented Australian OB. It didn’t take much in the way of observation skills to see that her eyes met Sean’s for a long moment. Her usual warm and friendly smile faded, and she turned away.

What was that all about? Sean hadn’t been at CRMU long—surely he didn’t have something going on with beautiful Isabel already? Could there be a professional rift between them? “You and Isabel have some kind of problem?”

“Problem?” Sean’s attention came back to him slowly. “No, of course not.”

But then it was Aaron’s turn to be distracted as the knock-out blonde midwife left the dance floor, leaving her dance partner with a smile before she moved toward the bar next to them.

“Hope!” Sean called out, and she turned. “Great job today on those twins.”

She smiled and stepped closer to them. “Thank you, Dr. Anderson. They were both little peanuts, but I’m relieved they seem to be perfectly healthy.”

Hope. So that was her name. It was the first time he’d been so close to the woman, and he couldn’t help but stare. To notice that her eyes were a mesmerizing dark blue, her skin luminous, her lips full and rosy, and just looking at them made him decide right then and there that he wanted to kiss her.

“I don’t think we’ve ever actually met,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Aaron Cartwright.”

Sean looked at him in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. But of course, you probably haven’t worked together. Aaron, this is Hope Sanders, a midwife at CRMU, and a darned good one. Hope, Dr. Aaron Cartwright. OB and fertility specialist.”

“We may not have met, but I know who you are, Dr. Cartwright. I’ve had more than one patient able to have the baby she’s longed for, thanks to you.” Her smile lit the room more than the glittering chandeliers as her slender hand shook his. “This is a wonderful party for a wonderful cause. Thanks so much for inviting us. I’ve already talked with a few donors about how your organization helps adoptive parents and children find one another.”

“I appreciate that. I’m glad you were able to make it. Have you—”

“You know, I’ll talk with you later, Aaron,” Sean said, clapping Aaron on the shoulder. “I see someone I need to speak with. Congrats again on the crowd you’ve got here tonight.”

He watched Sean move quickly across the room toward Isabel. He wondered again if they had something going, but whatever might be between them wasn’t any of his business, and he had more interesting things to think about.

Like the very beautiful Hope Sanders.

“I think Sean and I interrupted your trek to the bar. Can I get you something?” He let his gaze roam over her face, fascinated by the exquisite shape of it, her silky brows, a pert nose above the delicately chiseled bow of her lip that tempted a man to explore its shape with his tongue.

“Just water, please. I was thirsty after dancing. The band you have here is fabulous, though I have to admit I’m a little surprised. Doesn’t a party like this take a big chunk of the donations you’re getting?”

“Seems like it would, doesn’t it?” Interesting that she was tuned into that, when most people just enjoyed the extravaganza. “Some people donate generously simply because they understand the need. But I volunteered with a similar foundation in the States, and learned a lot that I’ve applied to this one. For better or worse, a great party with a high cost of admission has an exclusive aura to it. Foundations that spend big money on a fund-raising event like this reach people with the means to donate the most. They feel special, have a good time, and write checks.”

“That seems...wrong.”

“It’s just human nature, which I know you understand well, working with patients all day.” The little pucker over her eyes was cute as hell. “Think of it as a win-win. Everyone has a good time, and the foundation makes money to help families.”

“I guess so.” The pucker vanished as she smiled. “And I admit I’m having a very good time, so thank you again for inviting me.”

“Glad you came.” He tore his gaze from her appealing face, ratcheting back the libido that kept sending his thoughts places they shouldn’t go with a woman he barely knew. “How about water with a glass of champagne on the side? In celebration of the party going off without a hitch.”

“You do know saying something like that is tempting fate? The minute you’re sure there’s not a hitch, some disaster is sure to follow.”

“You think?” Tempting fate? Her teasing smile was tempting all right, and who knew? Maybe fate was involved in that. Bringing her to this party so he could finally meet the woman who consistently grabbed his attention even from a distance.

“Dr. Cartwright. We just wanted to say you’ve put together another wonderful party.”

He turned to the couple at his elbow and recognized them as big donors from last year. Spinning through his brain, he was relieved to come up with their names. “Mr. Adams. Mrs. Adams. Thank you, but my office manager organized it. I just show up. I’m glad you decided to come again this year.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Adams said.

“Yes, we had a lovely time last Christmas and your foundation is doing such good things. We had a nice talk with Hope, here, who shared a few adoption stories that made us want to contribute even more. What a challenging job being a midwife must be.”

“It can be,” Hope said. “But of course it’s tremendously rewarding to help bring new life into the world, and help the parents as well.” She looked up at Aaron, and the admiration in her eyes surprised him. “Dr. Cartwright’s work is both challenging and impressive. He helps parents have children who didn’t think they could, and this wonderful foundation brings new families together in other ways.”

Aaron nearly fidgeted under the admiring gazes of all three of them. It was the school of hard knocks, not heroism, that motivated the work he did.

“Well, we’re very impressed with it,” Mrs. Adams said. “And now we’re going to enjoy the decadent things on that dessert table.”

After another handshake, they wandered off and Aaron turned to Hope. “Thanks for talking with them. Maybe you’ve veered onto the wrong career path, and sales and marketing are your real calling.”

“Selling things I’m excited about? Easy. Selling itchy socks or bad-tasting toothpaste just because it was my job? I’m pretty sure I’d be an utter failure at that.” The humor in her gaze, the sheer intelligence, drew him closer without even realizing he’d gone there.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting a sudden urge to reach out and sweep away a tendril of hair that had slipped across her eye. Maybe she’d seen him staring at its silkiness, as her slender fingers lifted to her face, shoving it aside. Fingers that weren’t wearing anything resembling a wedding ring.

And that knowledge kindled the hot spark of interest he’d felt the second she’d walked into the room. “I’d suggest again we share some champagne to eliminate all thoughts of bad-tasting toothpaste, but don’t want to be pushy about drinking if you don’t want to.” Champagne was nice, but holding Hope Sanders close in his arms? An entire case of Dom Pérignon couldn’t begin to compare to that kind of ambrosia. “So how about dancing with me instead?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed they’ve just finished up a swing tune and aren’t playing at the moment.”

“That’s funny, I hear music. Don’t you?” That fate she’d talked about played right into his hand as a slow song began to echo around the room. She dazzled him with another smile as he reached for her hand, folding its soft warmth within his. He led her onto the floor, and the number of people crowding it made holding her fairly close a necessity he was more than happy about. “This kind of music is more my speed anyway, when it comes to dancing. Which for me mostly consists of rocking from one foot to the other, I’m sorry to say. Not my best talent.”

“So what is your best talent?”

There was almost a seductive quality to her voice and the amazing blue of her eyes looking into his robbed him of breath. He was pretty sure she didn’t realize the way she’d asked the question, and he fought down the desire to press her body even closer to his, along with an offer to show her one of them.

“Hmm, that’s a tough one. I’m good at my job, but I’m not sure that qualifies as a talent. I can kick a mean soccer ball and used to throw a damn good football spiral, too.” He lowered his head close to her ear, and her soft hair tickled his temple. “But probably my best talent?”

“I think I’m sorry I asked.” Her voice was a little breathy, and the sexy sound of it sent him sliding his palm from between her shoulder blades down to just above the curve of her shapely behind, bringing her body closer to his.

“Sorry, why?”

“Afraid that maybe your talent is something my innocent ears can’t handle.”

“Are your ears innocent?” He studied her, amused and curious. Innocent, no, as she clearly was used to sophisticated banter. But there was something guileless about her, a sweetness and sincerity that went beyond appealing. “Don’t worry, I’m a gentleman. Your ears are safe.”

Their bodies swaying together in a fit so perfect it was hard to tell where his body began and hers ended, they danced in silence for long minutes. Her sweet scent filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in, holding her close enough to feel the brush of her breasts against his chest. Her forehead grazed his chin and her hand was tucked into his and pressed to his sternum as if they knew each other much better than two people who had met only ten minutes ago.

Aaron had been with quite a few women in his life, and he found himself studying the curve of her ear, the smoothness of her skin, trying to figure out what, exactly, made this feel somehow different. Had he ever felt a connection this instant and intense with anyone before? Or was he just not remembering?

The music drew to a close and they slowly separated, their eyes meeting. Her lips were parted, her skin seemed a little flushed, and it took every ounce of willpower for Aaron to remember they were in a public place in the middle of a hundred people. To remember he couldn’t pull her back into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.

“You still haven’t told me,” Hope said, apparently trying to bring normalcy back to the moment, replacing the chemistry that was pinging hot and fast between them.

“Told you what?”

“What your best talent is.”

Damn if the curve of her lips wasn’t pure temptation. Temptation to try to impress her by showing her at least one answer to that question.

CHAPTER TWO

HOPE’S HEART KEPT doing an uncontrollable little dance of its own as she looked up at Aaron Cartwright. At the smile in his rich brown eyes as they stared into hers. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to ask that question. Again. She might not be a shy belle, but neither was she a flirtatious siren. Yet here she was, saying things that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but suggestive.

She’d hoped she might meet Aaron at this party. But she hadn’t expected to dance with the tall, ridiculously good-looking fertility specialist that practically every nurse and midwife at the hospital swooned over when he passed through the hallways.

She’d never have dreamed it possible, but the man was even more swoon-worthy in his tuxedo. And here she was, being held in his strong arms, dancing so closely they could have kissed by moving their faces barely an inch.

His deliciously male body radiating heat like a furnace, the way his big hand caught and held hers against his muscular chest, the deep, sexy rumble of his voice in her ear, all had combined to steal every molecule of breath from her lungs and, apparently, all sense from her brain as well. How else could she explain asking him—a second time, as though she really needed to know—what his best talent was?

Lord. She swallowed, embarrassment seeping through her body, adding to the heat that had nearly sent her up in flames. She stepped off the dance floor with him fluidly moving next to her and opened her mouth to say something, anything, that could possibly make him forget her last question, when he spoke.

“Punting.”

She stared up at him blankly. “Punting?”

“Maybe not my best talent, but yes, I’m very good at it.”

A nervous and relieved laugh escaped her throat. Thank heavens he wasn’t going to take her up on her unfortunate innuendo. “You already told me you’re good at kicking a football...er...soccer ball to Americans. Unless you mean gambling?”

“I never gamble. At least, not with money.” He slid her a teasing look, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners messed with her breathing all over again. “The punting I’m referring to is in a boat. You may think only Cambridge residents and tourists enjoy lazily shoving themselves down a river, but we’ve been doing it back home for centuries, too.”

“And where is back home?” Since the midwives liked to talk about the various handsome men in the hospital, she knew he was American and from California, but not much other than that.

“Northern California. Wine country.”

“Wine country? And here I’d assumed being from California that you were a surfer dude.”

His eyes twinkled as the crinkles around them got deeper. “I’ve surfed, but I don’t think that moniker fits me. And do you have any idea how adorable the words ‘surfer dude’ sound in your wonderful British accent?”

“I don’t have an accent. You’re the one with an accent.” Which she found incredibly sexy, she had to admit, but wasn’t about to say that and embarrass herself all over again.

“If you say so.” He leaned closer. “But please let me hear you say ‘surfer dude’ one more time.”

She laughed and felt her face heat again, but this time she had a feeling it was from his closeness, and how wonderful he smelled and looked, and how it all made her heart beat a little faster. “So people punt in wine country? Are there little canals between the vineyards?” she joked.

“Yes. They’re filled with grape juice.” His wink and grin were so charming, she had a bad feeling she might swoon for real next time she saw him at the hospital, requiring a hefty dose of smelling salts. “The punting I did back home was in Denver, Colorado, where I went to med school. Learned on Cherry Creek, and eventually raced. All the punting here is one of the reasons I liked the idea of working in Cambridge for a while.”

“I find it hard to believe you consider punting a talent. I mean, how difficult could it be to shove a boat down a river with a pole?”

“You live here and don’t know the answer to that?” He stared at her. “Punting takes a lot of practice. And it’s excellent exercise. Surely you’ve tried it?”

“Well, no actually. I’ve been on the River Cam many times in the punts, but always had someone else manning the pole. Should I be embarrassed to admit that, since I was born and raised here?”

“This is shocking. And also unacceptable.” He shook his head as his warm palm slid down her arm to grasp her elbow, propelling her across the room. “I assume you have a coat checked?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do you have a car here?”

“No, I came with another midwife from the hospital. I—”

“Good.” They stopped at the coat check closet and he held out his hand. “May I have your ticket?”

She fumbled in her evening bag for it, wondering what in the world he was up to, and why she was getting out the ticket and giving it to him when she had no idea as to the answer. “The party’s only half over. Are you throwing me out because I’m a shame to the CRMU and the entire city of Cambridge?”

He flashed her a devastating smile. “You, Hope Sanders, are obviously a shining star. Which is also why we have to fix this problem immediately. I’m taking you to the River Cam for a little punting lesson.”

“What? Surely you can’t leave this early? Besides, it’s freezing outside! I can’t believe you did your punting in November.”

“I can leave whenever I want. I’ve given my talk and the guests are all happy. And it’s not freezing.” He slid her coat on before donning his own. “Fifty degrees Fahrenheit is downright balmy. We punted year round, just like people do here, in much colder temps than that.”

“But I’m wearing a long gown! And you’re in a tuxedo, for heaven’s sake.” Was the man out of his mind? No way was she getting on that river tonight, but she couldn’t deny feeling a thrill of excitement at the idea of going out with Aaron Cartwright. Which was utterly crazy, since now was definitely not the time to get involved with a man. Not with her life about to change forever. “I’m not punting tonight and that’s that.”

“I’m about to gamble that you might change your mind about that, Ms. Sanders. Let’s hit a pub by the river and decide from there.” The humor in his eyes and the feel of his warm hand closing around hers left her with zero ability to protest again. “Come on.”

* * *

Hope was still a little disbelieving that she was now sitting intimately close to Aaron Cartwright as he drove his purring sports car through the city. They talked about the hospital and work, but the bland conversation didn’t slow her heart rate to normal. Probably because he smelled amazingly good, looked even better and kept glancing at her with unmistakable interest in his eyes.

No use in pretending to herself that she didn’t share that interest. But from what she’d heard, the man was one of those love-’em-and-leave-’em types, involved with a woman for just a few months before moving on. Of course, her own history had proven she wasn’t relationship material anyway. Not to mention that, scary though it was, she was about to give herself the gift of a child very soon. The child she’d dreamed of forever.