скачать книгу бесплатно
She made herself shrug again, praying she looked nonchalant. “Well, Dr. Snyder,” she improvised, “not that it’s any of your business, but just guess why a man would dump his wife because she’s pregnant.” He looked suddenly discomfited, and she pressed her advantage without waiting for him to reply. “Because there’s some doubt whether this baby was his.” Polly smiled snidely, though she was cringing inside. As though she, of all people, could have been unfaithful—even after all her husband had put her through.
And the thought of Reeve thinking she could do such a thing sent a stab of misery shooting through her.
But her comments had had the effect she’d desired—sort of. Something inside twisted and began to shrivel as Reeve looked at her with distaste. “You were right in the first place, Ms. Black,” he said. “It was none of my business.”
Ernie shifted his weight from one leg to the other, inserting a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and hiking them up. “Glad I could be of help,” he said. “But I’d best be leaving. Ms. Black, you be careful driving when they let you out of here. City council may not be letting out next time.”
“I’ll be careful,” Polly said fervently, wondering what he meant by “city council.” But he had already turned away.
So had Reeve. The sight of him leaving made her want to cry again. She watched the stiffness in his broad shoulders beneath his white doctor’s coat as he followed Ernie toward the door.
Polly closed her eyes, wishing she could call him back, could tell the truth—or enough of it so he wouldn’t despise her.
But this was better. He would keep his distance. Just because he’d been her hero didn’t mean she could make him her friend.
And certainly didn’t mean she could harbor thoughts of something even closer between them. It was too soon after Carl’s death to think of any man that way. And the way Carl had been…Polly doubted she would ever dare trust a man again.
She let herself collapse back onto the raised bed, but before Reeve left, another man shouldered by him into the room. “Ms. Black?” he asked. His small glasses had the thick black frames that Polly believed had been popular in the 1960s. The man looked as though he might have been a throwback to the era of hippies. Although his hair was thin and wispy, it nearly reached to his shoulders, and he wore a suit that appeared to be polyester.
“Yes, I’m Polly Black,” she replied warily. She needed a nap, and she had an idea this visit would not be as pleasant as the one from Ernie.
Reeve followed the man back into the room. Polly felt her pulse quicken in pleasure.
Cut it out, she told herself. Whatever his reason for returning, it wasn’t because he was glad to be with her.
Again, Reeve made the introductions. “Ms. Black, this is Clifford, from the medical center’s administration department.” She wasn’t sure whether Clifford was his first or last name.
“Exactly.” Clifford’s voice was high and nasal, and he sniffled as he talked. “We need some information. I’ve forms for you to fill out, and we need to talk about your insurance.”
Polly drew in her breath. She had been too relieved that she and Laurel were all right to consider the practicalities, but of course their hospital stay would be expensive. She had even had surgery; she was sure cesarean sections were not cheap.
She had money—some. But her flight had been spontaneous, and she hadn’t had time to grab much cash. She’d already charged gas on her credit card. She doubted the card’s limit was high, and eventually someone would realize it was a fake.
And if she used it again here, someone might be able to track her down.
What could she do? She had no one to ask for a loan. Not even Lorelei; a struggling actress in Hollywood would not be able to scrounge up the money this hospital stay was likely to require. Even if Polly dared to call her. She’d planned to get there first, then figure out some way to meet up with her friend short of telephoning her.
She wouldn’t be surprised if Lorelei had already been contacted. Her phone might even be tapped.
But Polly had no place else to go. And now she didn’t know if she had a drivable car. She hadn’t enough money for another clunker.
“Ms. Black?” Clifford’s nasal voice cut into her thoughts.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid a hospital visit wasn’t in my plans. I was going to a friend’s, and I was planning to have natural birth with a midwife. I…I have no money or insurance.”
“I see.” Clifford’s pale eyes squinted behind his glasses, and he did not look at all happy.
He glanced at Reeve, who stood impassively near the doorway, watching the scene. Polly cringed inside. Now, on top of everything else, he would think of her as a deadbeat.
“It’s not that we’re not compassionate here at Selborn Community Medical Center,” said Clifford. “But these things must be dealt with promptly, and—”
“I don’t think Ms. Black’s precarious state of health allows for a discussion of finances now, Clifford,” Reeve interrupted.
Polly glanced at him in relieved surprise. Moments ago, he had acted as though he found her as despicable as a cockroach on a hospital lunch tray. Now he seemed to be protecting her.
“Thanks,” she said. “You’re probably right. I feel awfully tired now. But Mr. Clifford—” she lifted her chin toward the scowling little man “—I don’t welsh on debts.”
An idea suddenly struck her. Here she was, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. No one here knew she wasn’t Polly Black, and any people her family had out searching for her would believe she was still pregnant; Laurel actually hadn’t been due for a month.
Selborn Peak, Colorado, just might be the haven Polly—and Laurel—needed.
“I don’t have to be where I was going for some time,” she continued, excitement making her heart flutter. “Once I’m feeling better, if I could find a job here at your hospital, one where I would still be able to take care of Laurel, I could hang around till my bill is paid.”
The corners of Clifford’s pinched mouth curved up as though he attempted a return smile. “That might work. The center has a good child care facility for the doctors and staff, though your baby’s much too young—their minimum age’s six months, I think. I’ll keep my ears open to see what kind of job might be available. Though in your condition, and with a new baby…”
“I’ve always been healthy,” Polly said eagerly. “I’m sure I’ll bounce back just fine.” A child care facility, right where she worked! If she stayed here long enough to take advantage of it, she could drop in all the time, be near her baby, even while on the job.
But what would she do in the meantime?
A sudden wave of helplessness washed over her. She knew no one here. Whom could she ask for advice?
And hadn’t she determined she would never again depend on anyone else’s assistance?
She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them again as she fought to regain her resolve.
She would find a way.
“Thank you, Mr. Clifford,” she said, meaning it. Thanks to the sour little man, everything would work out fine. She was certain of it.
She looked toward the door, to find Reeve Snyder still just inside. He was staring at her. Once again, she could not read the cool expression on his face—but although it might be wishful thinking on her part, he did not look as though the idea of her staying for a while upset him.
And that somehow made her feel much better.
“Here you are!” A throaty feminine voice projected from the doorway, and in marched a woman Polly hadn’t seen before. She was nearly as tall as Reeve, with a flowing broomstick skirt and peasant blouse that dipped nearly to her ample cleavage. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She took Reeve’s chin in one hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi, Alicia,” he said. Stepping back, he looked a little embarrassed as he glanced toward Polly. Or maybe that was just her imagination. In any event, Polly felt strangely disappointed, as though a present she had dreamed about for years had suddenly been snatched out of her hands.
“Who’s this?” Alicia asked, her long strides swishing her skirt as she approached the bed. Her jaw was strong and her nose just a little too long, but combined with her broad cheekbones and large, probing brown eyes, made a striking effect. Her wavy hair, held back by a pair of narrow reading glasses, was deep russet. The shade didn’t look natural, but then, neither was Polly’s. “Is this our little accident victim?” the woman pressed.
Polly tensed. How did this woman know about her?
As though reading her mind, Alicia said, “I know everything that goes on around here, but I’m always eager to learn more.”
“Alicia’s a reporter,” Clifford said.
That explained it. It also made Polly’s blood begin to freeze in her veins.
“That’s right. I’m with the Selborn Peak Standard.” Alicia lifted one of the papers from Polly’s bed and pointed to an article on the first page. “I do features, news, anything. So tell me about your accident.” With a flourish, she pulled a small tape recorder from a pocket in her skirt.
Oh, Lord, Polly thought. The last thing she needed was publicity. She had knowledge that could put her family—those she had thought of as her family—away for years. If they didn’t stop her first.
Then there was what she had done to Carl.
No, she had vowed to stay silent. It was safer. “I…I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s nothing much to tell, and I’m so tired….” She let her voice trail off, sending a pleading glance toward Reeve.
His return look seemed a combination of puzzlement, amusement and compassion. “My patient needs rest,” he said. Polly glanced at him in surprise. She wasn’t his patient; Laurel was. But she wasn’t going to argue with him.
“All right,” Alicia said, popping the recorder back in her pocket. “I’ll let you take me to dinner then.”
Reeve’s dark ginger brows knit as he opened his mouth. Polly had a sense he was about to refuse the invitation. She was incongruously hoping he would refuse the invitation. But with a sympathetic glance toward her that seemed to tell her his refusal might mean Alicia’s continued probing, he said, “Good idea. Let’s go.”
Clifford left the room first, followed by Alicia. Polly sighed and leaned back into her pillow as she watched Reeve trail behind. He turned back to her at the door. She thought he was going to say something. But with a shrug of those broad shoulders, he left.
After all the visitors, all the nervousness of Alicia’s visit, Polly felt unbearably sore and exhausted.
That had to explain why she felt so bad about knowing Reeve Snyder was having dinner with that dazzling reporter.
IT WAS LATE EVENING. The door was ajar.
The first time Reeve had entered Polly Black’s hospital room unannounced, he had come upon her nursing the baby. The sight had been utterly tender, yet even now he throbbed in recollection, as he recalled its erotic effect on him.
But even more unnerving had been the connection he’d felt between them later that day, when he’d arrived with Ernie. Reeve had felt tied to her even more strongly than when he had held her hand in the emergency room. It was as though he were linked in some indescribable, immutable way with the lovely young woman who seemed to represent all he despised.
Not that she was Annette. His deceased wife hadn’t even had the decency to act embarrassed when she lied.
After dinner with Alicia, Reeve had taken her home, then had come back to the hospital. He had some paperwork to do, he’d told himself.
But he knew that wasn’t the only reason he was there.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he tapped gently on the door.
He thought he heard a reply, but when he walked into the dimly lit room he found her asleep. Her bed had been lowered, and the baby wasn’t in the room. Quietly, he began to slip out again.
“Reeve?” Her voice was soft and husky, strangely seductive in this stark, sterile setting. It reminded him of waking up beside a woman after a night of passionate lovemaking. It had been a long time since he had experienced that. He knew Polly’s tone was the result of her sleepiness and nothing else, yet he felt his stirring libido awaken even more.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“I was awake.” She pulled the sheet about her neck and maneuvered herself awkwardly into a sitting position. The IV was no longer in her hand, but she clearly still felt sore. Her mussed, dark hair formed a soft, wavy cap that framed her face, and her eyes were only half-open, reminding Reeve of sweet seduction.
What was the matter with him? He was a doctor, used to seeing patients in all states of undress, and yet this woman was making him forget every ounce of detachment he’d ever possessed.
“Well, in any event you’re awake now.” His voice sounded more gruff than he had intended, and he saw her wince. He knew she was fragile; he had seen tears in her eyes before. Now he felt like even more of a louse.
“How was dinner?” she asked. He couldn’t quite identify the emotion in her tone: curiosity? Irritation?
Jealousy?
Unlikely, though the thought somehow appealed to him. More likely, she was simply still sleepy.
“Fine,” he replied noncommittally. “Guess what?”
“What?” Her gaze was wary, as though she thought he would load on her the straw that would break her back.
“After we spoke with Clifford, I made sure he looked for a part-time job for you here at the center, to start when you’re recuperated enough. I called after dinner. He’s found something.”
“Really?” Her smile lit up her entire lovely face, and Reeve found himself wanting to return it. “What is it?” She propped her weight on one hand resting on the bed.
“Wait.” He hated seeing her look so uncomfortable, so he drew closer and pushed the button that adjusted the back of the bed. It rose with a whir, and she leaned back as soon as it stopped. This close, he could smell her soft spicy scent, the one he had been aware of even when he’d discovered her in her wrecked car, except now the scent was incongruously interspersed with her infant’s baby powder. He pulled up a metal chair from beneath the window and sat near the bed. “How are you at convincing delinquent accounts to cough up what they owe?”
She gave a small laugh. “Like me?”
He laughed, too. “Well, at least you’re willing to pay. Some people who owe the center ignore their debts.”
“I’ll pay, I promise. And if I have to do it by strong-arming others into paying, too, I’ll manage.” She sounded so serious that he wanted to squeeze the small hand that lay on top of the white bedclothes. Strong-arm? She seemed too delicate for that. And yet her offer to stay and work here, while still recuperating from an accident and surgery, told him that she had a powerful determination that was inconsistent with her vulnerable demeanor.
“Great. As soon as you’re feeling up to it, I’ll have Clifford fill you in more about the job. Oh, and Frannie Meltzer has an idea about child care.”
“Thank you,” Polly said. “I really appreciate this. I can’t tell you how much.” Her face glowed, her small chin tipped up and he had a sudden urge to bend and kiss those full, tempting lips.
He stood in a hurry. “I’d better go.” He walked briskly toward the door, but remembered something and turned back to her.
She was staring after him. There was a longing expression on her face, as though she had wanted him to kiss her.
He shook his head. Fool. He was imagining it. Even if he weren’t, such an act would be utterly inappropriate. She was a patient at the medical center. His medical center. She was nearly his patient, for he had treated her before anyone else.
And, he reminded himself, she had a husband somewhere. Maybe a divorced husband, but one who just might want to know about this baby, despite what Polly had claimed about sleeping around—a claim Reeve couldn’t bring himself to believe.
“I almost forgot,” he said. “Clifford said someone called, asking after you.”
She didn’t move, yet seemed suddenly to cringe. Her face drained of the little color it held. “Who?”
“I’m not sure, but I had the impression it was the guy from the gas station where they towed your car. Clifford said something about selling it for scrap parts.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded weak, but it grew stronger. “Well, sure. Though I’ll want to talk to him about it first, just in case it can be fixed.”
Reeve gave a brief, ironic laugh. “Not the car I saw. But I’ll tell Clifford to have the guy speak with you.”
He said his goodbyes, then left the room. He paused outside the door in bemusement. Was Polly Black a runaway wife? That would explain a lot. Her reactions were not those of a woman simply traveling to stay with a friend. She had seemed afraid when he’d mentioned that someone was asking after her. She had seemed terrified when she’d learned Alicia was a reporter.
And if she were hiding from her husband, then what? If it came to a choice between helping her hide and revealing her whereabouts to the poor bastard whose kid was being kept from him, which would Reeve do?
Maybe it was his attraction to this woman that made Reeve unsure whose side he would take.
Chapter Three
“So what do you think?” asked Frannie Meltzer. An unbuttoned blue raincoat flapped open over her nurse’s uniform. Her platinum hair was more mussed than usual from the chilly fall breeze outside.
Polly stood in the living room of a furnished one-bedroom apartment two blocks from the medical center, holding Laurel, now nine days old, against her shoulder. The place smelled of pine cleaner, and patches of brighter white paint on the walls indicated where pictures had hung. The green overstuffed sofa and matching chair appeared to have been thrift store issue. But a rich walnut wainscoting lined one wall, and a delightful stone fireplace dominated another. And there was a small TV—the better to keep her vigil over the news.
