“Yes, and I’ve made it.” Zora studied the relish tray through a sheen of moisture. Andrew would come around eventually. He had a good heart, despite his weak will.
“I’m happy to report that I found the chair covers and they look fine.” Lucky’s deep voice sounded almost in her ear, making her jump. “What do Neanderthals know, anyway?”
“Speaking of Neanderthals, how dare you sneak up on me?” she snapped. “I could go into labor.”
“No, you won’t.” The corners of his mouth quirked.
“How would you know?”
“I’m a nurse, remember?” he said.
“Not that kind of nurse.” He worked with a urologist.
“Pregnancy care is part of every nurse’s basic medical training.” His expression sobered. “Speaking of medicine, you’re sure Cole’s coming today?”
Dr. Cole Rattigan, the renowned men’s fertility expert Lucky assisted, had been away this past week, speaking at a conference in New York.
“He and his wife RSVP’d,” Karen assured him. “What’s the big deal?”
“I can’t discuss it. It concerns a patient.”
“Why would you confer about a patient on your day off?” Zora asked.
“That’s confidential, too.” Grabbing the tray of sandwiches, Lucky whisked out of the room so fast it was a miracle the sandwich pyramid didn’t topple.
“That’s odd,” Karen said. “I wonder what’s going on.”
As did Zora, but Cole, and in particular his wife, a popular nurse, were a touchy subject for her. As the first Mrs. Andrew Raditch, Stacy hadn’t hidden her resentment toward Zora-the-husband-stealer, and most staffers had sided with her.
Among them, no one had been more hostile than Lucky. He’d eased up since he and Zora had started sharing this house, but in a showdown there was no question that his loyalty lay with Cole and his spouse.
Zora wished that didn’t bother her. Well, she had more important things to deal with, anyway...such as facing the grandmother of her children in less than two hours.
Lucky wove between clusters of chattering people in the living room, removing soiled paper plates and cups. Although he was enjoying the party, he wished he and his housemates had kept a tighter lid on the guest list. Only half an hour into it, the place was filling up—and not all the choices had been wise.
Inviting Betsy Raditch had seemed a clever trick to prod Zora into finally accepting the help she needed. Instead, the younger woman kept dodging her ex-mother-in-law, who sneaked longing gazes at Zora’s belly but maintained a respectful distance. The would-be grandmother’s wistful expression sent a guilty pang through Lucky.
And he hadn’t counted on Karen inviting Laird, but here he was, fawning over Zora. The psychologist’s colorless eyes—okay, they were gray, but a very light gray—lit up whenever she so much as flinched, providing an excuse for him to offer her a chair or a drink. Was the man flirting or just trying to charm his way into the house? Either way, he had a very strange notion of what women found appealing.
When Zora winced, the guy reached out to rub her bulge. Stuck in a knot of people across the room, Lucky barely refrained from shouting, “Hands off!” To his relief, Keely Randolph, a dour older nurse Lucky had never much liked until now, smacked Laird’s arm and loudly proclaimed that people shouldn’t shed their germs all over pregnant women.
After scowling at her, Laird gazed around, targeted Karen and approached her with a smarmy expression. Lucky caught the words exquisite house and can’t wait to move in.
Rod Vintner came to Karen’s rescue, his wiry frame and short graying beard bristling with indignation. “Who’s moving in where?” he growled with a ferocity that indicated he’d willingly stick one of his anesthesiology needles into Laird’s veins and pump it to the max.
Satisfied that the jerk was batting zero, Lucky glanced toward the front window. He never tired of the soul-renewing view across the narrow lane and past the coastal bluffs to the cozy harbor from which the town took its name. You couldn’t beat the beauty of this spot.
Yet he might have to leave. And that had nothing to do with Laird or any other roommate.
Lucky had worked hard to earn a master’s degree in nursing administration, which he’d completed earlier this year. Now he sought a suitable post for his management skills, but there were no openings at Safe Harbor Medical. Which meant he’d have to move away from the people he cared about.
They included Zora, who over the past few months had needed his protection as she struggled to deal with an unplanned pregnancy and a broken heart. They hadn’t intended to grow closer; he wasn’t even sure either would openly acknowledge it. Which was just as well. Because having once failed in a big way to be there for the people he loved, Lucky had vowed never, ever to take on such responsibility. Because he’d only fail again.
Still, he couldn’t imagine moving away. His best hope for staying in the area would be the expansion of the men’s fertility program in which he worked. Any minute now, its director, Cole Rattigan, would arrive. Most of the staff thought Cole had just been in New York to deliver a speech, but Lucky was more interested in hearing about his boss’s private meeting with the designer of a new device.
It offered a slim possibility of helping one particular patient, a volatile billionaire named Vince Adams who was considering a major endowment to expand the hospital’s urology program. If that happened, it might create a nursing-administration position for Lucky. Also, it would realize his doctor’s dream of building a world-class program.
If not for Cole, Lucky might not be working for Safe Harbor Med at all, he reflected as he carried empty plates and cups to the kitchen. Two and a half years ago, when the newly arrived urologist had interviewed for office nurses, Lucky hadn’t believed he had a chance of being hired. After his previous doctor retired, Lucky’s tattoos had repeatedly knocked him out of the running for jobs. He’d been considering expensive and painful treatment to remove the evidence of his youthful foolishness.
But the tats hadn’t bothered Cole. He’d asked a few questions, appeared pleased with the responses and offered the job on the spot. After that, Lucky would have battled demons if they’d threatened his doctor.
In the den, he poured himself a glass of fruit juice and noted that the sandwiches, chips and veggies were holding their own despite modest depletions. No one had cut the sheet cake yet, leaving intact the six cartoon babies, five with pink hair ribbons and one with blue.
“Aren’t they adorable?” The soft voice at his elbow drew his attention to Betsy.
Lucky shifted uneasily. Despite his conviction that Zora ought to be honest with her children’s grandmother, he had no intention of snitching. Still, he had invited the woman. “We ordered it from the Cake Castle.”
She indicated the Nanny Fund box bordered by a few wrapped packages. “I didn’t realize most people would be contributing money as their gift. I hope it’s all right that I crocheted baby blankets.”
“All right?” Lucky repeated in surprise. “The kids will treasure those keepsakes forever.”
Betsy’s squarish face, softened by caramel-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses, brightened at the compliment. Why didn’t Zora level with the woman? A doting grandma could provide the support a young single mother needed. Considering that Zora’s own mother lived in Oregon, she’d be wise to take advantage of Betsy’s yearning for grandkids.
“I’m