The Pregnancy Surprise

Recently, however, she’d been wondering whether she had a soul mate out there. Allie, who only a few weeks ago had been confirmedly single, had found love with Cooper Remington, and Sara had begun to feel left out.

But if she were to “settle down,” it would take a special kind of guy, one who was as adventurous as she was, who loved traveling and trying new things.

She had to admit, Reece didn’t strike her as the least bit adventurous. He was ultraserious, a buttoned-down CPA who loved to talk about risk management and long-term projections.

Her projections usually didn’t extend past what she planned to have for lunch that day.

And yet…he was so delicious. Not only that, but he was a good guy. He hadn’t balked—not really—when she’d volunteered him to handle the B and B finances while Miss Greer took care of her health. Delicious men came and went, but ones with character—they were a bit more rare.

Maybe she ought to decide what she wanted from Reece before she did something crazy.

SARA WAS UP before light the next day, but when she reached the kitchen, she found Reece already there, pondering the workings of the coffeemaker. She liked seeing him there. His very male presence balanced all the Victorian froufrou.

“You already changed the lightbulbs?” she asked, instead of saying good morning.

He jumped. “Oh. Yeah.” He looked everywhere but at her.

He was probably regretting last night’s moment of weakness. Fine. If that was how he wanted to play it, she could pretend it never happened. “I’ll get the coffee ready. You can preheat the upper oven to three hundred ten degrees, and the lower one to four twenty-five.”

“Okay.”

That took him all of twenty seconds. When he was done, he intently watched her make coffee, as if committing every step to memory. His attention, so focused, gave her a delicate shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asked. “I opened the window when I came down because it seemed stuffy, but I can close it.”

“No, the fresh air is nice.” She chuckled. “I’m surprised you were able to get the window open at all. Miss Greer has a phobia about fresh air. Even in the dead of summer, she’s sure everyone will catch their death of cold if there’s a draft.”

“Well, Miss Greer isn’t here, and what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Sara’s heart thudded hard as she chanced a look over her shoulder at Reece. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief. Was he trying to tell her something else? Did he know that she’d been holding back a bit because he was a guest, and hitting on guests was frowned upon?

Now that Reece was sort of part of the management, did that change everything?

She looked away quickly, wondering if it was too late to undo last night’s kiss. For the first time in her life, she was a bit scared of getting involved on any level with a man, and she wasn’t quite sure why. Would she get out unscathed if she and Reece got carried away with this attraction thing?

He was just so different from the guys she usually went for, and she felt she didn’t know the rules anymore.

“Why don’t you set the table?” she suggested brightly. “Linens are in the buffet, dishes in the china cabinet. Set six place settings.”

“What about me?” he asked. “Don’t I get to eat?”

“You’re the hired help now. We eat in the kitchen.”

“I don’t see how I can be hired help if I’m not getting paid,” he pointed out good-naturedly, though he moved to the dining room to follow directions.

She pushed the coffeemaker’s on button as she realized what he said was perfectly true. She was getting free room and board, but no one had promised Reece a similar deal for helping out.

She poked her head through the doorway. “You’re absolutely right. But I’m sure Miss Greer doesn’t expect you to pay full price for staying here when you’re running the place.”

Reece shook his head as he took out a floral tablecloth and laid it over the huge mahogany dining table. “I was only kidding. I don’t need to be paid. I don’t mind helping out, and it gives me something to do.”

“Don’t you have to work on the accounting for Remington Charters?” Sara asked.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not exactly a full-time job.”

“I thought you’d be done with all that by now.” She helped him straighten the cloth, then dug out coordinating place mats while he grabbed a stack of plates from the china cabinet.

“I have a few more things to set up, then I have to train Allie and Cooper how to use the program.”

“Train Allie, you mean,” she said. “Cooper doesn’t have the patience for dealing with numbers.”

Reece looked at her quizzically. “That’s true, but how did you know that?”

“Duh. You guys lived here for more than a week before Cooper and Max found their own places. I observed you. I watched conversations. I can tell you a lot about your cousins.”

Reece crossed his arms. “You eavesdropped?”

“Absolutely not.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Maybe she’d listened to Reece more than was strictly accidental because of her fascination with him. “Hired help is often invisible. People talk as if I’m not there, though I make no effort to sneak around. Sometimes I can’t help overhearing.”

“You weren’t invisible to me.”

“Ha. When you have your nose in your laptop with some accounting program, you wouldn’t notice an atomic blast going off in the next room. I used to vacuum right under your chair and you never twitched.”

“I did notice,” he insisted. “I noticed lots of things about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like some guy named Ike from Santa Fe called you at least three times a day on your cell phone. You didn’t want to encourage him, but you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, either.”

She blinked in surprise. “Now who’s eavesdropping?”

“Sometimes I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said, echoing exactly what she’d just said to him.

Gracious. He wasn’t nearly as oblivious as she’d guessed. Here she thought she hadn’t even registered on his radar, and he’d been listening to her conversations.

“What else do you know about Cooper?” he asked.

“Aren’t you more curious as to how much I know about you?”

He looked away. “I don’t give off that many clues.”

“You’re thirty-four years old. You’re the youngest of two brothers, your brother is named Bret, and he dumps a lot of work on you.”

Reece opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“You’ve never been married,” she continued. That was more of an educated guess than actual knowledge, but she could see the moment she said it that it was true, and she felt unaccountably relieved. “Bret is already married and has two kids, a boy and a girl…Bret Jr. and Jessica.”

“Not bad.”

“You like things neat, and you make your bed every morning even though that’s my job. You get seasick and you have seasonal allergies.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m the maid. I clean your bathroom and I’ve seen the medicine you leave out on the counter.”

“You’re a snoop!” But he softened the comment with a smile. “I bet you wouldn’t want some man looking at your private things.”

She shrugged. “You can look in my bathroom any time you want. Especially if you’re willing to scrub the toilet.” He wouldn’t find anything shocking. The most controversial thing in her medicine chest were birth control pills, which she often forgot to take because lately there hadn’t been any compelling reason to. She and Ike hadn’t made it that far because she’d quickly realized he wasn’t for her.

He’d finally gotten the message, too, thank God.

The antique clock on the buffet chimed the half hour, and Sara realized she needed to get a move on. “The frittata comes out of the oven at six-fifty,” she said. “The muffins, in about five minutes. You’ll need to make the orange juice from frozen—we don’t have any fresh oranges today, but I’ll stop at the grocery on my way home. Is there anything else you need to know?”

“Um, Sara?”

“Yes?”

“How were you planning to get to the hospital?”

Oh, damn. The automotive fairies hadn’t magically materialized a new car for her last night. She gave Reece a beseeching look. “You won’t let me borrow yours?”

His expression told her exactly what he thought of that idea. Some men were a little funny about loaning out their cars, and she didn’t really blame him, since the Mercedes was so new.

“Miss Greer needs me,” she said. “I’m a very good driver. I’ll drive like my grandmother, I swear.”

He wavered, then finally, looking resigned, reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a set of keys.

She took them, then impulsively threw her arms around him and kissed him—on the cheek at the last minute instead of his mouth, since another kiss like last night’s was apt to addle her brains so thoroughly she would drive into a lamppost.

“Thanks, Reece, you’re a peach. If you need anything, my cell number is stuck to the fridge.”

“Tell Miss Greer I hope she’s better soon.”

“I will. Bye!” She got out of there before he had a chance to change his mind.

REECE PEEKED out the lace curtains at the front windows and watched as Sara jumped into his car, gunned the motor and sped off, gravel flying. She hadn’t taken the time to adjust the seat or the mirrors.

Too bad he couldn’t call the Department of Motor Vehicles and check her driving record, but he had a sneaking feeling that being a “good driver” was all in Sara’s mind.

He had no more time to think about his poor car, though. Breakfast called. He remembered the muffins just in time. While they cooled he mixed up some frozen orange juice—luckily the instructions were on the can.

Then it was time to take out the frittata, which he had to admit smelled pretty good. But those little bits of green and red floating around in the eggs were peppers, and peppers were scary.

He poured himself some coffee, then remembered he wasn’t supposed to drink it on an empty stomach, so he located last night’s bread. The golden loaves made his mouth water, but they were unsliced.

He got out a cutting board and bread knife—at least, he was pretty sure it was a bread knife—and started slicing. But his slices were thick and ungainly, nothing like the thin, regular slices he was used to seeing at the Sunsetter’s breakfast table.

The first guests arrived for breakfast right at seven. The Taylors were a young couple who were planning to visit the nearby wildlife refuge.

Reece brought out the coffeepot. “Breakfast will be ready shortly,” he said as he poured the husband’s coffee. But the wife stopped him.

“I’d like hot tea, please.”

“Tea.” Sara hadn’t mentioned anything about tea. “Coming right up.”

“And do you have skim milk for the coffee?” the husband asked.

Blech. “I’ll check.”

Tea required boiling water. A kettle sat on the stove, so Reece filled it and turned on the burner. He found a carton of skim milk in the fridge and started to bring it out to the dining room, but he remembered that both Sara and Miss Greer always put everything in nice dishes. He had to rummage for a cream pitcher.

Then the water was boiling. Oh, God, what should he do with it? Where were the tea bags?

The toast popped up, but he didn’t have time to eat it. He put in more of his lumpy, uneven slices for the guests, brought the whole kettle to the dining room and poured it into Mrs. Taylor’s cup as she looked on, puzzled.

“I suppose you’d like a tea bag,” he said.

Mrs. Taylor pointed at the buffet. “They’re right there.”

Thank God.

He brought out the frittata just as the second couple, the Silversteins, arrived. They, of course, wanted coffee right away, but with half-and-half, not skim milk.

“Could we get something to serve the frittata?” Mr. Taylor asked, when Reece returned with the half-and-half carton—he couldn’t find another cream pitcher, though he knew there must be one somewhere.

“Just scoop it up with your hands,” Reece said in a lame attempt at humor. When no one laughed, he retreated, found a spatula, and brought it to Mr. Taylor.

The third couple, the Benedicts, arrived. They were elderly, and Mr. Benedict started clamoring for prune juice.

Reece realized he hadn’t offered any of them juice. The toast had popped up and was getting cold.

He found the prune juice, poured orange juice, buttered toast and set it on the table. Someone asked for jam, and he had to find all the different flavored jams, put them in jam pots as he’d seen Sara and Miss Greer do a dozen times, and set them out.

Coffee refills. Juice refills. The muffins! He’d forgotten all about them. It took him precious time to find a basket and a cloth to line it with. He dumped the muffins into the basket and set it on the table.

“Do you have any yogurt?” Mrs. Silverstein asked.

“What about oatmeal?” Mr. Benedict asked. “Don’t you usually serve oatmeal with fresh strawberries?”

“No oatmeal today,” Reece said apologetically. “Miss Greer is having surgery this morning and Sara, her helper, is with her. I’m doing the best I can, but I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

“As long as you don’t serve us those cream puffs,” Mrs. Silverstein said with a sniff. The cream puffs were Miss Greer’s specialty, and everyone despised them, though no one had the heart to tell her they weren’t very good.

By the time the guests had eaten their fill and left the table, Reece was exhausted, his stomach burned, and he had a whole new respect for Sara’s skills.

Well, okay, she did have an alarming tendency to spill things on him, but other than that, cooking and serving breakfast appeared as effortless as breathing to Sara.

He still had a lot of work ahead of him, he realized. The dining room looked like the cafeteria scene from Animal House.

He’d just started stacking dishes to carry into the kitchen when the phone rang. He went to answer it. “Hello? I mean, Sunsetter Bed-and-Breakfast, can I help you?”

“It’s me, Sara.”

Reece was amazed at the rush of relief and pleasure he got from just the sound of her voice. “Hey, Sara. Is everything all right?”

“Miss Greer just got out of surgery, and the doctor said it went fine. She’s in recovery. It looks like I’ll be here a while longer, though.”

“No need to hurry home,” he said. “I have everything under control.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

“Nothing to it,” he said as he wedged the phone under his chin and started shoving dishes into the industrial-size dishwasher. “Did you have any trouble with the car?”

She greeted his question with a long silence.

“Sara?”

“Define trouble.”

Reece’s stomach renewed its churning. “Sara, what happened to my car?”

“Miss Greer is waking up now, I have to go. Bye!”

Chapter Four

Sara disconnected the phone, her heart pounding. She’d only delayed the inevitable; sooner or later she would have to tell Reece she’d had a wreck in his car.

It was just a minor fender bender, and not her fault, either. She’d been innocently looking for a parking space, and another car had backed right into her. But since she’d been in a hurry, and both cars were drivable, she’d quickly exchanged information with the other driver and gone on about her business.

Reece’s previously pristine car was now caved in on the right side, the passenger door inoperable.

Well, Reece would just have to understand. It could have happened to anyone, and the important thing was that no one was hurt.

She hoped he would see it that way.

Sara dropped her cell phone into her bag and went back inside to check on Miss Greer. She didn’t know if the older woman was waking up yet or not, but she might be. She really ought not to have fibbed to Reece, though. That was a bad habit, telling little white lies. As her father always said, a lie was a lie and the size was immaterial.

Miss Greer woke a short time later, but she was in a lot of pain. Sara spent the rest of the morning tracking down a doctor who could prescribe something that would make the poor woman more comfortable, then hanging around to make sure the nurses gave it to her. After that, when Miss Greer’s lunch was delivered, Sara had to coax the elderly woman to eat a few bites.

It was something of a full-time job, making sure Miss Greer got the care she needed. By the time she was fully awake, adequately fed and reasonably pain-free all at the same time, it was almost dark.

Sara probably should have checked in with Reece again, but she’d aggressively put him out of her mind while she kept busy with Miss Greer. She hoped he was getting along all right taking care of the guests; he’d sounded okay earlier. Breakfast was the hardest part; she was sure he could make up beds and run the vacuum.

Although, come to think of it, she hadn’t reminded him he needed to do those things. Since he’d been a guest for some time, he probably knew the drill. But men were a little dense when it came to housework. Some she’d known obviously thought the elves came in at night and cleaned.

It was almost dark by the time she pulled Reece’s Mercedes onto Magnolia Street and parked it across the road from the Sunsetter, close to some bushes. Maybe the damage wouldn’t look so bad in the dark. Reece wasn’t an excitable type; he would probably be calm and reasonable about the whole thing.

Her hopes were dashed when she spotted him pacing on the front porch, his cell phone glued to his ear.

He saw her then and snapped his phone shut. He had started toward her as she got out of the car, and she quavered a bit at the thunderous expression on his face.

“Sara, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been calling your cell phone all day.”

“I can’t keep it turned on inside the hospital,” she reminded him.

He stopped inches from her and placed his fists on his lean hips. “You couldn’t check your messages every once in a while?”

“Sorry. I guess I was pretty focused on taking care of Miss Greer.” Yeah, right. She was such a saint. She’d deliberately left her phone off because she knew Reece would be frantic about his car.

“So what happened to the car?” he asked, finally taking his laserlike gaze off her and aiming it at the Mercedes.

“I had a—” she swallowed, her mouth feeling as if it was full of shredded wheat “—a small accident.”

“Accident?”

“Just a small one.”

Reece eyed the car from bumper to bumper and, apparently seeing no damage, walked around to the other side.

Sara knew the moment he saw the crunched-in door. She longed to flee to the safety of her room, where she wouldn’t have to endure his anger. But one thing her parents had taught her—and that had sunk in—was that she had to take responsibility for her actions.

“How did this happen?”

“Someone backed into me in the parking lot.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “So it wasn’t your fault?”

She shook her head. “The guy apologized all over the place.”

“You have a police report?”

Again she shook her head. “We exchanged information.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper onto which she’d written the man’s name, phone number and driver’s license number.

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