“If you apologize again, I’ll slug you.” Zora glared at Lucky.

He laughed, an unexpected rumble that rolled right into her heart. “That’s my Zora.” A bout of hard breathing reawakened the hope he might finally kiss her, but instead he sucked in a gulp of air and held it. “Okay. Better.”

“Better than what?”

He ignored the question. “Since I inveigled you into working today, let me buy you lunch to celebrate.”

“You’re on.” The heat in her body hadn’t exactly dissipated, but it had faded into her normal pregnancy-enhanced high temperature. As for Lucky, clearly he didn’t, couldn’t and never would accept Andrew’s babies as his own.

As common sense reasserted itself, Zora was suddenly glad nothing had happened. Going any further would have been yet another in a long line of mistakes she’d made with men. Gathering her possessions, she waited until Lucky locked up, and they sauntered out together. Friends again, nothing more.

Which was obviously how they both preferred it.

The Baby Bonanza

Jacqueline Diamond

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The daughter of a doctor and an artist, JACQUELINE DIAMOND has been drawn to medical themes for many of her more than ninety-five published novels, including her Safe Harbor Medical series for Mills & Boon. She developed an interest in fertility issues after successfully undergoing treatment to have her two sons, now in their twenties. A former Associated Press reporter and columnist, Jackie lives with her husband of thirty-five years in Orange County, California, where she’s active in Romance Writers of America. You can learn more about her books at www.jacquelinediamond.com/books and say hello to Jackie on her Facebook page, JacquelineDiamondAuthor.

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Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

It was the first time Zora could recall agreeing with Lucky Mendez about anything. Although their truce surely wouldn’t last long, she appreciated his good judgment this once.

“No way are you letting that creep move into our house,” the male nurse told their landlady and housemate, Karen Wiggins. With his striking dark hair, muscular build and flamboyant tattoos, Lucky made an odd contrast to the pink streamers festooning their den.

“Everybody hates Laird Maclaine,” Zora added as she arranged baby shower prizes on a side table. Being seven months pregnant with twins, she had to avoid any strenuous activity. In fact, as one of the shower’s honorees—along with two of their former housemates—she could have dodged setup duty, but she refused to take the easy way out.

Ever.

“He’s the only one who responded to the notice I posted on the bulletin board.” Atop a step stool, Karen tied a bunch of balloons to a hook. In shades of pink and purple, each balloon proclaimed: Baby!

“We have a vacant room and the rent’s almost due,” she continued. “It’s either Laird, or I post on the internet and we fend off the loonies. Unless you guys can produce another candidate, fast.”

Lucky hadn’t finished castigating the topic of the conversation. “One drink and Laird’s telling raunchy jokes. Two drinks and he’s leering at any lady who walks by.” His lip curled. “Three drinks and we call the police.”

“For a staff psychologist, he doesn’t have a clue about how decent people act,” Zora threw in.

“I don’t care for him, either, but there are bills to pay.” Karen, a financial counselor at Safe Harbor Medical Center, where they all worked, had inherited the five-bedroom home from her mother the previous December. Forced to take out a loan to repair the run-down property, she’d advertised for roommates. The arrangement had worked well despite the diverse personalities who’d signed on.

So far, three of the women had become pregnant, but the other two had married and moved out, unlike Zora. There was little chance she would marry the father of her babies, because he was already married. He was also her ex-husband, with whom she’d foolishly and, just before finalizing their divorce, trustingly had sex in the belief that her on-again, off-again high school sweetheart still loved her.

Zora rested her palm on her bulge, feeling the babies kick. How ironic that she’d gotten pregnant by accident at the worst possible time, after she and Andrew had tried for more than a year to conceive. They’d been on the point of seeking fertility treatments when she’d discovered he was cheating on her.

“We have plenty of other colleagues,” Lucky persisted. “You guys are in a better position to meet them than me, since my office is out in the boonies.” Lucky worked in the medical office building adjacent to the hospital.

“I’ve tried, but... Oh, yuck!” Karen broke off as a breeze through the rear screen door carried a fetid whiff of decomposing vegetation and fish from the estuary behind the property.

Zora nearly gagged, too. Karen praised the marsh ad nauseum because it provided critical habitat for plants and small animals, as well as for California’s migratory birds. However, despite the cooling weather at the end of September, it stank. “Who left the door open?”

“I must have forgotten to close it after I swept the patio.” Lucky shut the glass slider with a thump. “How about renting to that receptionist in your office?”

“She declined.” Descending from the stool, Karen stood back to assess the position of the balloons. “She prefers to save money by living with her parents. Speaking of money, if we don’t find anyone by next month, I’ll have to divide the room rent among you guys and Rod.”

Their fourth and newest housemate, anesthesiologist Rod Vintner, had gone to pick up the party cake. He’d also gone, in Zora’s opinion, to avoid anything approaching hard labor, although he had promised to clean up afterward.

“We could use the spare room as a nursery.” Lucky cast a meaningful gaze at Zora’s large belly. “If someone would inform her ex-husband that he’s about to be a father and owes child support, she could afford the extra space.”

“Don’t start on her,” Karen warned, saving Zora the trouble. “Go set up the chairs in the living room.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With a salute, Lucky strolled off. Zora tried to ignore the muscles rippling beneath his T-shirt and the tight fit of his jeans. The man was a self-righteous pain in the neck, no matter how good he looked.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t brought home any dates since they’d moved into the house last February. Or none that she’d observed, Zora amended. Since Lucky occupied the downstairs suite, he could easily slip someone in late and out early without the others noticing. Men did things like that.

“You can stop staring at his butt now,” Karen said dryly.

“I wasn’t!”

“You can lie to anyone else, including yourself, but spare me.” The older woman—forty-two to Zora’s twenty-nine—tightened the ponytail holder around her hair, which she’d dyed black this month. “Was that the kitchen timer?”

“I didn’t hear anything.” Zora adjusted a gift-wrapped box with a slot for envelopes. The front read: Nanny Fund. They planned to share the services of a specialist nanny among the three new moms and their collective total of six infants. Well, they did work at a hospital noted for its fertility treatments, although only one of the pregnancies had high-tech origins.

The timer buzzed. “There!” Karen said with satisfaction. “I knew it would sound any second.”

“You must be psychic.” Zora waddled behind her past a table displaying shower-themed paper plates and napkins.

“I have a well-developed sense of when food is done. Call it experience.” In the kitchen, Karen snatched pot holders from a hook and opened the oven, filling the air with the scents of orange and lemon, almonds and balsamic vinegar.

Karen set the tins of Mediterranean muffins on the stove to cool. “I’d better start on the finger sandwiches. Only two hours before the guests are due, and I have to dress.” She tied an apron over her blouse and long, casual skirt.

“I’ll finish the vegetables.” From the refrigerator, Zora removed the containers of celery, carrots and jicama that she’d cut up earlier, along with sour cream to mix for the dip and peanut butter to fill some of the celery sticks. “Would you get the olives and an onion soup packet from the pantry? I’m too big to squeeze in there.”

“Gladly.” Karen angled her slender shape around the narrow bend that led to the storage area. “Just black olives, or green ones, too?”

“Both.” Zora lowered herself onto a chair, grateful she could still reach the table around her abdomen. A railing underneath allowed her to prop up her swollen ankles, but nothing alleviated the strain on her lower back. It ached more each day.

She hid her discomforts, determined to continue working as long as possible. Being an ultrasound tech meant standing on her feet all day and angling her midsection so she could scan the patients, but she was saving her paid maternity leave for after the twins’ birth. Two months left—if they didn’t arrive early.

After retrieving the requested items, Karen spread out her sandwich fixings on the counter. Through the kitchen’s far door, Zora heard the scrape of folding chairs being opened and placed around the front room. She respected Lucky’s work ethic; he always pitched in with an upbeat attitude. If he could only master the art of minding his own business, he’d be...well, tolerable.

Footsteps thudded on the carpet, announcing Lucky’s return. His short, military-style haircut emphasized the strong planes of his face, which reflected his Hispanic heritage. “Where are the chair covers hidden? Someone else stored them after Anya and Jack’s wedding.”

“Upstairs in the linen closet,” Karen said.

“Can I ride the stair lift or is that only for mommies?” Lucky teased. Both women narrowed their eyes at him, and he lifted his hands in a yielding gesture. “Just asking.”

“Go play somewhere else,” Zora muttered.

“Alone? That’s no fun.” With a rakish grin, he dodged out.

“You two should swap rooms so you could be downstairs,” Karen observed from the counter. “Let him ride the stair lift if it gives him a thrill.”

“I can’t afford the extra rent.” Lucky’s large room commanded a correspondingly larger price. While Zora didn’t care about having a personal patio exit, she did envy him the private bath. Karen had one, too, upstairs in the master suite, while Zora shared a bathroom with Rod and Melissa. Or, rather, with Rod and whoever moved into the room Melissa had vacated when she’d remarried her ex-husband.

Some people have all the luck. A sigh escaped Zora. Too late, she tried to cover with a cough.

“A pickle chip for your thoughts,” Karen said.

“No, thanks.” Zora popped a black olive into her mouth.

“You really are entitled to support,” Karen observed. “I wonder whether you’d have faced your ex by now if Lucky weren’t such a nag.”

“He has nothing to do with it.”

“You’re stubborn,” was the reply. “Seriously, Zora, how long can you keep this secret? I’m amazed Andrew’s mother hasn’t spilled the beans.”

“Betsy doesn’t know.” Zora’s former mother-in-law was the nursing supervisor at the hospital. The kindhearted lady had suffered through the loss of two beloved daughters-in-law, thanks to her son’s faithlessness.

Zora wondered whether Betsy was being more cautious about bonding with Andrew’s third wife, a Hong Kong native he’d met on a business trip while he was married to Zora. Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision. How could he cheat on me? And then, just when I was ready to let him go, trick me into believing he still loved me?

“Betsy sees you in the cafeteria every day,” Karen reminded her.

“She’s aware that I’m pregnant,” Zora agreed. “But she has no idea who the father is.”

Karen stuck a hank of black hair behind her ear. “She isn’t stupid.”

“But I doubt she believes Andrew is capable of...of being such a grade-A jerk.” Damn those tears stinging her eyes again. “Aside from my closest friends, most people accept my explanation that I made a mistake after my divorce. I let them assume I picked up a guy in a bar.”

“And that’s better than admitting you slept with Andrew?”

“It’s better than admitting I’m a complete chump.”

More footsteps, and Lucky reappeared. “They aren’t there. Let’s skip the seat covers.”

“I refuse to have guests in my house sitting on ugly folding chairs,” Karen said.

The man tilted his head skeptically. “What’s the big deal? People have been sitting on folding chairs without covers since the dawn of time.”

“No, they haven’t.” Hastily, Zora shielded the relish tray from his attempt to grab a carrot. “Hands off!”

“Evidence found in caves throughout northern Europe indicates that Neanderthals shunned folding chair covers as a sign of weakness,” Lucky said. “And why so stingy with the veggies?”

“I’m still arranging these. Go eat a corn chip.” Zora indicated a bag set out to be transferred into a large bowl.

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Corn is a vegetable.”

“Corn chips do not occur in nature,” he responded. “Just one carrot. Pretty please.”

She flipped it toward him. He caught it in midair.

“Try the closet in my bathroom for the covers,” Karen suggested to Lucky. “Top shelf.”

“I have permission to enter the inner sanctum?” he asked.

“It expires in sixty seconds.”

“Okay, okay.” He paused. “Before I run off, there’s one little thing I should mention about today’s guest list.”

Zora released an impatient breath. “What?”

“I invited Betsy.”

“You didn’t!” Keeping her ex-mother-in-law in the dark at work was one thing, but around here the babies’ paternity was no secret.

Karen turned toward Lucky, knife in hand. “Tell me you’re joking.”

He grimaced. “Sorry. Spur-of-the-moment thing. But your motto is the more the merrier, and besides, Betsy’s a widow. If she’s interested in renting a room, that would solve all our problems.” With a carroty crunch, off he went.

“Unbelievable,” Karen said.

If she hadn’t been so huge, Zora might have given chase. She could easily have strangled Lucky at that moment. But then they’d have to find two new housemates.

“I’d say the cat’s about to claw its way out of the bag,” Karen observed. “Might as well seize the bull by the horns, or is that too many animal metaphors?”

“Considering the size of the rat we live with, I guess not,” Zora growled.

Karen smiled. “Speaking of rats, if you’d rather not confront Andrew-the-rodent yourself, don’t forget you can hire Edmond to do it.” Edmond Everhart, their former roommate, Melissa’s husband, had been Zora’s divorce attorney.

“That’ll only create more trouble.” Zora scraped the onion dip from the mixing bowl into a container on the relish tray. “Andrew’ll put me through the wringer.”

“If that’s your only reason for not telling him about the babies, I’d rate its validity at about a three on a scale of ten.” Karen trimmed the crust from a sandwich.

Zora dropped the spoon into the mixing bowl with a clunk. “He’s the only man I ever loved. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Zora, what benefit of what doubt?” Karen retorted. “He dumped you in high school, married someone else, then cheated on her with you after he ran into you at your class reunion. Let’s not forget that he then cheated on you with what’s-her-name from Hong Kong. Why on earth would you entertain the fantastical notion that Andrew will ever transform into a loving husband and father?”

With a pang, Zora conceded that that was exactly what she did wish for. While her rational mind sided with Karen, the infants stirring inside her with a series of kicks and squirms obviously missed their father. So did Zora.

“It can happen,” she said. “Look at Melissa and Edmond. Three years after their divorce, they fell in love again.”

“They’d quarreled about having children. Neither of them cheated on the other,” Karen persisted. “Andrew can’t be trusted, ever.”

She spoke with the ferocity of a divorcée who’d survived an abusive marriage. It had taken more than a decade for Karen to trust a man again. She and their housemate, Rod, were still easing into their relationship.

“People can change.” Despite a reluctance to bring up her family, Zora wanted Karen to understand. “Did I mention I have a twin?”

“Really?” Leaning against the counter, Karen folded her arms. “Identical or fraternal?”

“Identical.” Zora wasn’t about to reveal the whole story, just the important part. “But we quarreled, and we aren’t in touch anymore. All I know of her is what Mom passes along.” Their mother, who lived in Oregon, loved sharing news.

“Go on.” After a glance at the clock, Karen resumed her food preparation.

“Nearly ten years ago, Zady ran off with a married man.” Zora inhaled as deeply as she could, considering the pressure on her lungs from the pregnancy. “They live in Santa Barbara. He split with his wife and now he’s devoted to Zady. They have a beautiful house and a couple of kids.”

“Was there a wedding in there?” Karen asked dubiously.

“I’m sure there was, although she didn’t invite me.” The rift had been bitter, and there’d been no move toward reconciliation on either side. In fact, her mother said Zady had chuckled when she’d learned about Zora’s divorce.

“So the guy married her, and you believe that if lightning struck your twin, it can strike you, too?” Karen murmured.

Zora’s throat tightened. “Why not?”

“Because Betsy’s about to arrive with her antennae on high alert. If I’m any judge, that woman’s dying to be a grandmother.”

“And she’ll be a terrific one.” The elder Mrs. Raditch did all the right grandmotherly things, such as baking and crocheting, a skill she’d taught Zora. “But...”

“You’re running out of buts,” Karen warned. “Unless you count Lucky’s.”

“I don’t!”

“The way you guys battle, you’re almost like an old married couple.”

“We’re nothing like a married couple, old or otherwise.” Zora could never be interested in a man with so little class. Outside work, he flaunted his muscles in sleeveless T-shirts and cutoffs. While she didn’t object if someone had a small tattoo, his body resembled a billboard for video games. On the right arm, a colorful dragon snaked and writhed, while on the left, he displayed a buxom babe wearing skimpy armor and wielding a sword.

Whenever she pictured Andrew, she saw him in the suit and tie he always wore as an international business consultant. He had tousled blond hair, a laser-sharp mind, sky-blue eyes, and when he trained his headlight smile on her, Zora understood why some poor fools became addicted to drugs, because the euphoria was irresistible.

At the image, vague intentions coalesced into a firm decision. “Andrew’s the man I married. This...this liaison with what’s-her-name is an aberration. Once the kids are born and he holds them in his arms, what man wouldn’t love his own son and daughter?” And their mother.

Even Zora’s own father, a troubled man who’d cheated on her mom, had stuck around while his kids had grown up. Well, mostly—there’d been separations and emotional outbursts that left painful memories. But there’d been tender times, too, including a laughter-filled fishing trip, and one Christmas when her father had dressed up as Santa Claus and showered them with gifts.

She longed for her children to experience a father like that. With Andrew’s charm, he could easily provide such unforgettable moments.

For a minute, the only sound was the chopping of a knife against a cutting board as Karen trimmed crusts. Finally she said, “So you plan to hold it together until then, alone?”

“I have you guys, my friends.” Zora struggled for a light tone. “All I have to do is stay on an even keel.”

“Like a juggler tossing hand grenades on the deck of a sinking ship?” On a platter, Karen positioned sandwiches in a pyramid. “Well, it’s your decision.”

“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.

Chapter Two

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 glad to hear it,” she said. “Also, much as I approve of the nanny idea, I suspect new mothers could use furnishings and toys.”

“Oh, there’s plenty of that.” Lucky had been forced to park in the driveway for weeks due to the overflow in the garage. “Practically the entire staff has donated their baby gear. Anya and Jack got first pick, since she’s already delivered, but they only have a singleton. There’s plenty left.”

“They’re a lovely couple. So are Melissa and Edmond.” Betsy indicated the long-legged blonde woman ensconced on the sofa, flanked by her doting husband and seven-year-old niece, Dawn, who lived with them. This was a rare outing for Melissa, who in her sixth month with triplets looked almost as wide as she was tall. “I’m thrilled that they remarried. They obviously belong together.”

Was that a hint? Surely the woman didn’t believe her son might reconcile with Zora. Aside from the fact that he had a new wife, the guy was the world’s worst candidate for family man. “I’d bet in most divorces the odds of a happy reconciliation would be on par with winning the lottery.”

“If that was for my benefit, don’t bother,” Betsy told him.

“Sorry.” Lucky ducked his head. “I tend to be a mother hen to my friends. Or a father hen, if there is such a thing.”

“At least you aren’t a rooster like my son,” she replied sharply.

“No comment.”

“Wise man.”

On the far side of the room, Zora circled past the staircase and halted, her eyes widening at the sight of Lucky standing beside Betsy. Lucky nearly spread his hands in a do-you-honestly-think-I’d-tell-her? gesture, but decided against it, since Betsy didn’t miss much. She must be suspicious enough already about the twins’ paternity.

While he was seeking another topic of conversation, his landlady bounced into the den from the kitchen. “Who’s ready for a game?” Karen called. “We have prizes.” She indicated a side table where baskets displayed bath soaps and lotions, while a large stuffed panda held out a gift card to the Bear and Doll Boutique.

“What kind of game?” Dawn asked from the couch.

“I’m afraid the first one might be too hard for a child,” Karen said. “It’s a diaper-the-baby contest.”

“I can do that,” the little girl proclaimed.

“Yes, she can,” Melissa confirmed. “Dawn has more experience with diapering than Edmond or me.”

“I used to help our neighbor,” the child said.

“Then please join in!” Karen beamed as guests from the living room crowded into the den. “Ah, more players. Great!”

Among the group was their former roommate Anya, her arms around the daughter she’d delivered a few weeks earlier. “Nobody’s diapering Rachel for a game.”

“Certainly not,” Karen agreed.

“However, volunteers are welcome to stop by our apartment any night around two a.m.,” put in Anya’s husband, Dr. Jack Ryder.

Rachel gurgled. A sigh ran through the onlookers, accompanied by murmurs of “What an angel!” and “How darling!”

“I’d be happy to hold her for you,” Betsy said. “You can both relax and enjoy the food.”

“Thank you.” Anya cheerfully shifted her daughter into the arms of the nursing supervisor.

When Zora hugged herself protectively, Lucky felt a twinge of sympathy. She’d refused to consider adoption, declaring that this might be her only chance to have children, but the sight of little Rachel must underscore the reality of what she faced.

Children required all your resources and all your strength. How did this woman with slim shoulders and defiant ginger hair expect to cope by herself?

He reminded himself not to get too involved. Lucky didn’t mind changing a few diapers, but he might not be here long, unless Dr. Rattigan brought good news. Now where was the doctor?

Waving a newborn-size doll along with a package of clean diapers, Karen detailed the rules of the game. “You have to remove and replace the diaper. I’ll be timing you. Fastest diaper change wins.”

“That doesn’t sound hard,” Laird scoffed.

“Did I mention you have to do it one-handed?” Karen replied, to widespread groans. “If you drop the baby on the floor, you’re automatically disqualified.”

“For round two, contestants have to diaper the doll blindfolded,” Rod added mischievously. A few people laughed, while Dawn’s jaw set with determination. That kid would do it upside down and sideways to win, Lucky thought. With that attitude, she’d go far in life.

Then he caught the sound he’d been waiting for—the doorbell. His pulse sped up. “I’ll get it.”

Someone else reached the door first, however, and friends rushed to greet the Rattigans. Despite his impatience, Lucky hung back.

With her friendly manner and elfin face, Stacy had a kind word for everyone. Her mild-mannered husband said little; Cole’s reticence, Lucky knew, stemmed partly from the urologist’s discomfort in social situations. It was also partly the result of having a brain so brilliant that he was probably carrying on half a dozen internal conversations with himself at any given moment.

Lucky could barely contain his eagerness to speak with the great man privately and find out if the device lived up to its promise. However, he drew the line at elbowing guests aside.

Stacy oohed over Anya’s newborn and hugged Betsy, her former mother-in-law. The room quieted as the first Mrs. Andrew Raditch came face-to-face with the woman who had cheated with him before being discarded in turn. Most of the staff had cheered at Zora’s misfortune, believing she was receiving her just deserts. Lucky was ashamed to admit he’d been among them. Now he wished he could spare her this awkwardness.

“Wow! Look at you.” Stacy patted Zora’s belly. “Have you chosen names yet?”

“Still searching,” she said with a tentative smile. “For now, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.”

This light exchange broke the tension. With her new marriage, Stacy had clearly moved on, and with her courtesy toward Zora, she’d brought her old nemesis in from the cold.

Silently, Lucky thanked her. Cole had chosen a worthy wife.

The game began, with guests lining up to participate. Seizing his chance, Lucky approached his boss, who spoke without prompting.

“I know you’re anxious for news, Luke.” Cole used Lucky’s formal name. “Let’s talk.”

“We’ll have more privacy in here.” Lucky led the way into the now-empty living room.

* * *

ZORA HAD NO interest in diapering a baby. She’d be doing more than her share of that soon.

Stacy’s display of friendliness left her both relieved and oddly shaky. Having been treated as a pariah by much of the hospital staff for several years, Zora still felt vulnerable as well as guilty.

Also, Stacy’s question about the names reminded Zora of her idea to leave the decision until they were born. She’d figured that if Andrew had a chance to choose the names, it might help bond him with the little ones. Today, however, the prospect of what lay ahead was sinking in.

For starters, what was she planning to do, call him from the delivery room and break the news of his paternity over the phone while writhing in agony? This kind of information should be presented in person, and she ought to get it over with now. Yet being around Andrew brought out Zora’s weakness for him; the ease with which he’d seduced her when she dropped by with their divorce papers proved that.

If only Lucky would stop poking at her, she’d be able to think clearly. It might be unfair to focus her anger on her housemate, but this was none of his business. And why had he, one of the party’s hosts, hustled Dr. Rattigan off in such a hurry?

Hungry as usual these days, Zora munched on a peanut butter–filled celery stick from the snack table. Keely drifted alongside, following her gaze as Lucky vanished. “Nice build,” the older nurse observed in her nasal voice.

Amused, Zora said, “I don’t believe he’s dating anyone. Interested?”

Keely snorted. “Not my type.”

Zora didn’t dare ask what that was.

A hint of beer breath alerted her to Laird Maclaine’s approach. The psychologist must have downed a brew before arriving, because they weren’t serving alcohol.

“We’re discussing Mendez?” He addressed his question to Zora, ignoring Keely. “If he snags a better job with that new master’s degree of his, I’d love to rent his room. I hear it has an en suite bathroom.”

“En suite?” Keely repeated. “What a pretentious term.”

Laird rolled his eyes.

“He isn’t leaving.” While Zora understood Lucky’s desire for advancement, she couldn’t imagine him abandoning his friends.

The psychologist shrugged. “Either way, this is a fantastic party house. I’m expecting to move in next weekend.”

Astonished, Zora slanted an assessing gaze at the psychologist. From an objective viewpoint, Laird wasn’t bad-looking, although bland compared to Lucky, and she respected him for initiating and leading patient support groups. But it would be annoying to have to run into this conceited guy every morning over breakfast and every night at dinner.

Impulsively, she addressed Keely. “We have an empty room that used to be Melissa’s. Any chance you’re interested?”

“It’s taken, by me,” Laird rapped out.

“Nothing’s settled,” Zora said.

“Don’t you already have two men living here?” Keely inquired. “You and Karen should bring in another woman. I’d join you, but I couldn’t do that to my roommate.”

“You wouldn’t fit in, anyway,” Laird growled.

That remark didn’t deserve a response. “Who’s your roommate?” Zora asked Keely. “Do I know her?”

“Oh, she doesn’t work at the medical complex,” the nurse responded. “She’s a housekeeper.”

“I admire your loyalty to her.”

“Anyone would do the same.”

A stir across the den drew their attention. It was Dawn Everhart’s turn at the game. Deftly, the little girl rolled the doll with an elbow, tugged on one diaper tab with her fingers and caught the other in her mouth, all while onlookers captured the moment with their cell phones.

“Unsanitary,” Laird protested.

“But clever,” Rod responded from his post beside Karen. “Besides, it’s a doll.”

“And she’s beating the pants off everyone else’s time,” Edmond observed, beaming at his niece. “Literally.”

Her feet having swollen to the size of melons, Zora wandered into the kitchen and sat down. Through the far door, she detected the low rumble of masculine voices in the living room.

What were Lucky and his boss discussing so intently? Had Cole made job inquiries at the conference for his nurse’s sake? Although she’d instinctively dismissed Laird’s comment about Lucky moving, the man couldn’t be expected to waste his master’s degree.

If Lucky departed, who would run out for ice cream when she had a craving? Lucky had promised to haul two bassinets and a changing table to the second floor as soon as she was ready for them. Without him around, who would cart her stuff up and down the stairs? She certainly couldn’t count on Laird pitching in.

Well, she’d survive. In fact, she shouldn’t be relying on Lucky so much, anyway. Zora hated to depend on others, especially someone so controlling and critical and arrogant and judgmental. She might not have the world’s best taste in men, but she knew what she didn’t like, and Lucky epitomized it. Now what were he and Dr. Rattigan talking about so intently?

No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t follow the thread of conversation from the living room. Just when she caught a couple of words, a burst of cheering from the den obliterated the rest of the doctor’s comments.

Judging by the clamor, Dawn had edged out Anya’s husband, Jack, by two seconds. “I can visualize the headline now—Seven-year-old Defeats Obstetrician in Diapering Contest!” roared Rod, who, as Jack’s uncle, had the privilege of ragging him mercilessly. “I’m posting the pictures on the internet.”

“You do that and you’ll never see your great-niece again,” Jack retorted. He spoiled the effect by adding, “Will he, cutie?” apparently addressing the newborn.

Zora lumbered to her feet. She was missing all the fun and worrying for nothing.

Probably.

Chapter Three

Feeling miles from the festivities in the den, Lucky struggled to concentrate on Cole’s account. He kept wishing that, if he focused hard enough, the results would be more encouraging.

“The new stent won’t fix what’s wrong with Vince Adams.” The slightly built doctor ran a hand through his rumpled brown hair.

“Are you certain?” Lucky pressed.

Cole nodded. “It won’t do anything for a patient who has that much scar tissue.”

During the summer, Cole had used the latest microsurgical techniques in an unsuccessful attempt to open the billionaire’s blocked sperm ducts. As the office nurse, Lucky hadn’t assisted at the operation, but he’d read the follow-up report. The procedure hadn’t been able to reverse the extensive damage left by a long-ago infection.

However, Vince continued to press them for options. Cole had told him about a new dissolvable, medicine-infused stent, and Vince had been excited that Cole would get an advance preview of the device. “We have the world’s top urologist right here,” the millionaire had trumpeted. “And I’ll be the first guy he cures.”

The higher the hopes, the harder the fall.

“Do you think his interest in Safe Harbor is entirely based on restoring his fertility?” Lucky asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Cole replied. “His intentions tend to shift with his emotional state.”

A private equity investor, Vince Adams was powerful and rich. But wealth hadn’t compensated for his inability to sire children. Over the years, he’d paid dearly for treatments without success, and others had paid dearly for his desire for fatherhood.

After several turbulent and childless marriages, Vince had wed a woman with two young daughters. Determined to adopt them, he had used his financial clout to overwhelm Portia’s first husband in court.

The man he’d gleefully trounced was Lucky’s housemate, Rod Vintner, who’d faced a doubly devastating loss. First, during his divorce, he’d learned that his daughters were actually the genetic offspring of his unfaithful wife’s previous lover, now out of the picture. Second, Rod had been outspent and outmaneuvered fighting for joint custody.

For years, he’d been forbidden to talk or even write to his daughters, who lived a ninety-minute drive away, in San Diego. Then, earlier this year, the older girl had run away from home. The twelve-year-old had contacted Rod, who’d enlisted the aid of the girls’ maternal grandmother here in Safe Harbor.

Although officially Rod was still banned, Grandma Helen had arranged for Tiffany—now thirteen—and her younger sister to visit her more often. Whenever possible, she let them meet with Rod, and, faced with Tiffany’s threats to run away again, the Adamses pretended not to notice.

Vince’s search for fertility, however, provided him with another avenue for keeping Rod in line. While Vince’s interest in the hospital stemmed in large part from his discovery that one of the world’s foremost urologists had joined the staff, it also ensured that Rod didn’t dare become too much of an annoyance. An anesthesiologist would be a lot easier for the hospital to replace than a billionaire donor.

Lucky hated that the staff had to curry favor with Vince. Still, he felt compassion for a man desperate to produce a baby. The billionaire’s motives might be self-serving, but his comments had made it clear that he would treasure his child. As long as parents offered a loving, secure home, it wasn’t anyone else’s right to pass judgment.

However, if Cole couldn’t help him, it seemed likely Vince wouldn’t follow through on his major donation. “Suppose he drops us,” Lucky said. “Surely there are others we could approach.”

“The world is full of rich people, but Safe Harbor tends to lose out to more prestigious institutions,” Cole responded. “I admit, Luke, being at the conference whetted my appetite for better research facilities, more lab space and money for fellowships. In fact, I received three excellent offers to relocate.”

Lucky’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “You’d take another position?”

Alarm flitted across the doctor’s face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Nevertheless, he had said it. “If you go, the program will never recover.” Neither will I. On many levels.

At a burst of laughter from the other room, Lucky flinched. His friends had no idea that he was standing here with the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “I joined Safe Harbor with the intention of building a standout program. Although I’m no longer sure that will be possible, this is my wife’s home, and mine, too. I haven’t given up yet.” But there was no mistaking his distress.

“Nothing else at the conference might be useful?”

“I’m afraid not. Perhaps we should suggest Mr. Adams cancel next Saturday’s appointment and save himself a trip.” The billionaire tended to arrive with plenty of pomp and circumstance by private plane or helicopter. On other occasions, Vince roared up the coast in a high-performance car that cost as much as many houses.

If only Lucky could find a solution, for his sake and for his doctor’s. It would also be important to the medical center to achieve its goal of becoming a major player in the fertility field. Major gifts attracted additional donors; a lack of progress might, by contrast, eventually consign Safe Harbor to secondary status. And this place had been good to Lucky when he’d needed help the most.

“Don’t cancel,” he said. “That’s a week from now. Things could change.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cole stretched his shoulders. “In any event, my patient deserves to hear the news from me in person.”

To Lucky, it was a reprieve. He had a week to figure out the next move.

* * *

ZORA HAD NEVER seen Lucky abandon a party before. After talking to Dr. Rattigan, he’d spent the next hour in a corner of the living room, fiddling with his phone. Searching the internet or texting people? But why?

In view of the doctor’s wistful expression, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that they’d suffered a blow. They must have been counting on the New York conference for some reason.

Zora tried to shrug off Lucky’s absence while she and her fellow moms-to-be opened gifts. Most people had contributed money, but Betsy’s gifts were special.

Zora’s throat constricted as she held up the soft pink and blue blankets. Her former mother-in-law had created these precious heirlooms even without being sure of her relationship to the twins.

Zora was glad now that Lucky had invited Betsy. To learn she’d been excluded from the baby shower would have been an undeserved slap in the face.

Catching Betsy’s eye, Zora said, “These mean more than I can say.”

“I’m glad.” Wedged among the other guests, the older woman added, “If you need anything, please call me.”

“You’re a sweetheart.” But Zora wouldn’t ask for the other woman’s help, not until after the babies were born and she revealed the truth to Andrew. When she did, she hoped Betsy wouldn’t resent having been kept in the dark.

Her gaze drifted to the diamond-and-emerald ring on her ex-mother-in-law’s right hand. Zora had worn the family heirloom during her marriage, treasuring both its beauty and its significance. After the divorce, she’d returned it, with regret. Neither of Andrew’s other wives had worn it; there’d been a special bond between Betsy and Zora that had begun in her high school days.

Now, its glitter reminded Zora of how much she’d lost. Not only her husband, but a woman who’d been as close to her as family. Well, perhaps someday she and Betsy could be close again.

She hoped her children would meet her twin sister, too. That depended on whether Zora was ever secure enough to handle Zady’s inevitable gloating at her downfall. For now, distance was best. Nobody could inflict as much pain as the people nearest your heart.

After the last guest departed, the adrenaline that had powered Zora all afternoon faded. She collapsed on the living room couch while, inside her, the babies tussled.

What a blessing it would be when they were born and her body returned to normal. And what a joy to hold them and see their sweet faces.

At this point, Lucky should have arrived to offer her refreshments. She missed his coddling, even though it was often seasoned with criticism.

Instead, he bustled about collecting trash as if she weren’t there. From the kitchen, Zora heard Karen opening and closing the fridge to put away food, while in the den, Rod ran the vacuum cleaner. Zora would have pitched in if she’d had the energy.

As Lucky removed the white linen covers from the folding chairs, his dark eyebrows drew together like storm clouds. The dragon protruding from beneath one sleeve appeared to be lashing its tail.

Zora broke the silence. “Won’t you tell me what happened?”

He tossed a cover onto a pile of laundry. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been upset since you talked to Dr. Rattigan.”

Lucky snapped a chair shut. “Doesn’t concern you.”

Zora tried a different tack. “Laird speculated you might move out of town to take a better job. He’s angling to get your suite.” She deliberately baited Lucky with that reference to the obnoxious psychologist.

Lucky grimaced. “I’d rather not discuss that lowlife.”

“Then let’s discuss what’s eating you.”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.”

Any second, flames were going to shoot out her ears. “Oh, yes, it is!”

“How so?” he growled, wielding a chair as if he was prepared to thrust it at her.

The guy sure was prickly. “It’s obvious Cole brought bad news from the conference.”

Lucky set the chair down. “I can’t discuss anything involving a patient.”

He was right to safeguard the man’s privacy, Zora conceded. Medical personnel were required to do that, by law and by hospital policy as well as by simple decency. Still, he’d dropped a clue. Now, why would a patient’s condition bother Lucky so much?

From the kitchen, Karen’s voice drifted to her. “I’m looking forward to having your girls in town next Saturday. Should we invite them and Helen for lunch?”

“I doubt there’ll be time,” Rod replied dourly. “They’re only being dropped off at their grandma’s for an hour or two while Vince sees his doctor.”

“Is he having problems?” Karen asked. “I don’t usually wish anyone ill, but he’s an exception.”

“You can wish that jerk as much ill as you like.” Rod’s voice rose in anger. “Tiff and Amber loathe the man. He may not physically abuse them, but he’s a bully, and emotional scars can be the worst kind.”

As the rumble of the garbage disposal cut off further eavesdropping, Zora put two and two together. Everyone knew—because the billionaire had discussed it openly—that Dr. Rattigan was treating him. And the men’s program counted on his support.

“It’s Vince Adams,” she said. “No, don’t answer. I realize you can’t confirm it.”

Lucky stacked the chairs to one side. “Are you still mad at me for inviting Betsy? Is that why you’re harassing me?”

Zora tried to hug her knees, but her bulge was in the way. “I’m glad you invited her.”

“So we’re good?” His fierce brown eyes raked over her.

“No. What if you leave?” she burst out, surprised by her rush of emotion. “We’re having enough trouble finding one roommate, let alone two. We’ll have to take Laird.”

A knot in her chest warned that she was less concerned about Laird than she was about Lucky staying until the babies were born. Until Andrew hopefully came to his senses and fell in love with his children. Until hell freezes over. No, but if hell did freeze over, she’d counted on Lucky to be there with a warming blanket.

As a friend, of course. He’d been just as helpful to Anya—maybe more so—when they’d moved into this house. It was in his nature.

Lucky stopped fiddling around. “You shouldn’t upset yourself. It might shoot up your blood pressure.”

“Then talk to me.”

He plopped his butt on the arm of the couch. “About what?”

“You’ve been delving into your phone all afternoon, trying to find a solution, right? But if Dr. Rattigan can’t fix Vince—I mean, Patient X—neither can you.”

“So?” Lucky folded his arms. They were muscular arms, and he folded them across a broad, powerful chest. Too bad the movement also flexed the shapely legs of a cartoon woman, which rather spoiled the effect for Zora.

“We have to figure out another way to keep the Adamses involved with Safe Harbor,” she blurted.

“We?” Lucky was addicted to monosyllables today.

She’d surprised herself by saying that. But didn’t she owe Lucky a favor, considering how much support he’d given her?

“Yes, we,” Zora retorted, and, to cut off any argument, she added, “Some people have a ridiculously hard time accepting help, to quote a person I know.”

That produced a tight smile. “What do you imagine you, or we, can do regarding this alleged situation?”

“I have an idea.” Fortunately, a possibility had hit her. “I’ll share it on one condition.” She might as well benefit from this.

“Which is?”

“You stop nagging me about my personal choices, however stupid you may consider them.”

Lucky didn’t answer. Then, abruptly, he burst out laughing. “Sometimes I actually like you.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Because you’re a tough little cookie. If only you would apply that quality to he-who-shall-remain-nameless.”

“That’s breaking the rules,” Zora retorted. “No nagging and no smart-aleck remarks, either. Well?”

“You’re draining all the fun out of our relationship.” Lucky raised his hands in mock surrender. “I agree. Now, what’s the suggestion?”

The sight of him leaning close, intent on her, sent a thrill across her nervous system. Must be the maternal hormones running amok. “Remember when Edmond gave that speech about trends in family law?”

Melissa’s husband served as a consultant for staff and patients on the legal aspects of fertility issues.

“Sure.” Another one-syllable response.

“Afterward, Vince approached him for advice.” Zora had heard the story from Melissa. Quickly, she added, “It was in a public place. No attorney-client privilege.”

“Advice about what?”

“About persuading Mrs. Adams to agree to in vitro.” If Vince produced even a small amount of sperm, it could be extracted and injected into an egg, bypassing the need to fix his blocked ducts. “She refuses to undergo in vitro, however.”

“He can afford to hire a surrogate,” Lucky pointed out.

“He objects to bringing in a stranger while his wife is presumably still fertile.” Although Zora detested Portia for Rod’s sake, she understood why a woman approaching forty wouldn’t be eager to undergo a process involving hormone shots as well as uncomfortable procedures to harvest her eggs and implant the embryos. There were also potential health risks from a pregnancy complicated by multiple babies.

“What does this have to do with us?” Lucky asked.

“Talking to Edmond renewed Vince’s enthusiasm for Safe Harbor.” According to Melissa, the hospital administrator had phoned later to congratulate Edmond on saving the day.

“Renewed his enthusiasm how?” Lucky persisted. “His wife still hasn’t agreed, as far as I know.”

“I’m not sure, but judging by what Rod says about him, he enjoys power trips,” Zora observed. “He hates to lose. If we figure out how he can win in this situation, it might keep him engaged with Safe Harbor.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Ask Edmond what he advised.”

Lucky considered this in silence. At close range, Zora noticed an end-of-day dark beard shadowing his rough cheeks. Although she preferred men with a smooth, sophisticated look, she had to admit there was something appealing about Lucky’s male hormones proclaiming themselves loud and clear.

What was wrong with her? At this stage of pregnancy, she ought to have zero interest in sex. Or men. Or sexy men. Or... Stop that.

“Any idea which days Edmond’s at the hospital?” Lucky asked.

“Afraid not.”

In the adjacent dining room, Karen rose after stowing a tray in the sideboard. “Monday mornings and Thursday afternoons. Why the interest in Edmond?”

“It’s private,” Zora and Lucky said simultaneously.

Descending the few steps to the living room, their landlady gathered the pile of chair covers. “That’s unusual, you guys being on the same page.”

They both returned her gaze wordlessly until she sighed and departed. Zora chuckled. That had been fun.

Lucky held out his hand. As her fingers brushed his, a quiver of pleasure ran through her. On her feet, she lingered close to him for a moment, enjoying the citrus smell of his cologne underscored by masculine pheromones. Then in the recesses of her mind, she remembered something he often said: it’s Andrew who should be helping you, not me.

Even without speaking, he projected criticism. Glowering, and ignoring Lucky’s puzzled reaction, Zora headed for the stair lift.

Chapter Four

On Monday mornings while Cole performed surgeries at the hospital, Lucky replenished supplies, scheduled follow-up appointments with patients and prepared for office procedures in the afternoon.

He’d hoped to slip out to talk to Edmond, but the attorney was fully booked and could only spare a few minutes at lunch. It would have to do. But the morning turned out to be busier than expected, due to a special request from the fertility program director, Dr. Owen Tartikoff. A new urologist, a specialist in men’s reconstructive surgery, would soon be joining the staff and Dr. Tartikoff needed someone to review the applications for his office nurse. Due to Lucky’s administrative degree, Cole had recommended him.

Pleased at the responsibility, Lucky sifted through digital résumés to select the best candidates. The final choice would be left to the new physician, since the relationship between a doctor and his nurse was crucial. The right person eased the doctor’s job, increased efficiency and decreased errors.

The wrong person could cause all sorts of unwanted drama. Hospital lore included a by-now-legendary clash between Keely Randolph and Dr. Tartikoff shortly after his arrival a few years ago. There’d been a spectacular scene when the abrasive Dr. T had dressed her down for an error and she’d blown up, calling him arrogant and egotistical before stalking out.

In view of her long history at Safe Harbor, she’d received a second chance with another obstetrician, Paige Brennan. Miraculously, the chemistry between them had proved stable rather than explosive. Keely spoke of her doctor in glowing terms, which in Lucky’s view was how a nurse should behave.

He smiled, remembering how Keely had stood up for Zora at the party, staving off Laird’s attempt to touch her. While his attentions hadn’t necessarily been sexual, Lucky wouldn’t put it past the man.

An image of Zora filled his mind as he recalled her unexpected offer to aid in his quest to expand the men’s program. Her teasing grin was irresistible, and who would have imagined a mother-to-be could radiate such sexy vibes? True, she’d been cute before she got pregnant, but Lucky had been too caught up in resenting her for Stacy’s and Cole’s sakes to take more than a passing notice.

Not that there was any risk of a romance developing between him and Zora. He would never fall for anyone who led such a messy life, and he didn’t appear to be her type, either. Judging by Andrew, she went for slick and manipulative, hardly adjectives that applied to a tattooed guy from a rough part of LA.

A guy who’d committed his share of mistakes and was determined not to repeat them, especially if a wife and children were at stake. If he were ever so blessed, Lucky vowed to be sure his family’s circumstances were as close to perfect as humanly possible. He’d give them a financial buffer. A protective circle of love, commitment and security. If he couldn’t be sure he could provide those things, he’d rather not risk marrying at all.

Lucky focused on the résumés on the computer screen. There were a number of nurses eager to work in such a prestigious environment with regular hours and benefits. He struggled to view them through the perspective of an employer instead of as a fellow nurse who’d spent a year on his own job search. More than ever, he appreciated Cole’s willingness to bring him on board.

Clicking open a new résumé, Lucky frowned in confusion. Was this a joke? Someone had inserted a slightly altered photo of Zora. Her face was narrower, but he’d recognize her anywhere.

Only the name on the file was Zady Moore. Zady, huh? He read on, prepared for humorous remarks, but the data seemed straightforward. This so-called Zady had grown up near Safe Harbor, just like Zora. Same age, too. In fact, same birth date.

She claimed to have a nursing degree and to work for a urologist in Santa Barbara, a couple of hours’ drive north of here. Switching to the internet, Lucky confirmed that there was indeed a Zady Moore listed in connection with that urologist’s office. If this was a hoax, someone had gone to great lengths.

The name Moore struck him as familiar. Oh, right. He’d seen mail addressed to Zora Moore Raditch.

Could Zora have a twin she’d never told him about? Or did she have a cousin with an eerily similar appearance and the same birth date?

The alarm on his watch shrilled, a reminder of his meeting with Edmond. Lucky set aside the résumé with several others marked for further consideration.

From the fourth floor, he took the stairs to the medical building lobby and strode out past the pharmacy into the late September sunshine. A salty breeze wafted from the ocean a mile to the south, while seagulls wheeled overhead.

Next door, the six-story hospital rose in front of him, a lovely sight with its curved wings. Remodeled half a dozen years earlier to specialize in fertility and maternity services, it had established a national reputation by hiring distinguished doctors such as Cole and Dr. T, and by adding state-of-the-art laboratories, surgical suites and equipment. As a result, the side-by-side buildings were bursting at the seams with staff and patients.

Lucky glanced across the circular drive at the vacant dental building that had been mired in bankruptcy proceedings. Once the bankruptcy judge allowed a sale, it would be snapped up fast. The corporation that owned Safe Harbor Medical Center had expressed interest in buying it, but had balked at the high price.

When Vince Adams had expressed interest in funding the growth of the men’s program, he’d seemed a gift from fate. Since then, Vince had demonstrated mood swings and a knack for throwing everyone off balance, but his donation remained the hospital’s best chance of acquiring the building and boosting the men’s fertility program to the next level.

Lucky entered the hospital via the staff door. Instantly, his senses registered tempting aromas from the cafeteria. Also nearby, the chatter of childish voices drifted from the day care center, to which he presumed Zora would soon be entrusting her babies.

As he shoved open the door to the stairs—Lucky seized any chance at exercise—he wondered how long he could go without nagging her. Somebody had to advocate for those kids, who deserved their father’s financial support even if he was incapable of acting like a real dad.

What about this Zady character? If she was a family member, Zora could sure use the help.

On the fifth floor, Lucky passed the executive offices and entered a smaller suite. The receptionist had apparently gone to lunch, and an inner door stood ajar. The placard read, Edmond Everhart, Family Law Consultant.

Lucky listened in case a client remained inside. Hearing no one, he rapped on the frame.

“Come in.” From behind the desk, Edmond rose to greet him. In his early thirties, like Lucky, and also about five-ten, the guy was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie. Only his rumpled brown hair revealed that he’d had a busy morning. All the same, there was nothing glib or calculating about him.

After shaking hands and taking a seat, Lucky went straight to the point. “I understand Vince Adams was souring on Safe Harbor until he talked to you. You spoke with him in public, so I presume client confidentiality doesn’t apply.”

“That’s true.” Leaning back, the attorney removed his glasses, plucked a microfiber cloth from the drawer and polished the lenses.

“I’m curious how you won him over, because—” Lucky couldn’t go into detail, since it involved Vince’s treatment “—just in case he changes his mind again. What upset him in the first place?”

“He felt disrespected because the whole hospital is aware that he has fertility issues,” Edmond said.

“A fact that he’s publicized with his own...statements.” Lucky had nearly said big mouth.

“Be that as it may, he believed people looked down on him because he can’t father children.”

“How’d you reassure him?”

“I shared a few personal details that put us on a par.” After a hesitation, Edmond continued, “I explained that I’d had a vasectomy and later regretted it.” His wife, Melissa, was carrying embryos donated by another couple. “I also asked his advice as a stepfather about parenting my niece while her mom’s in prison. I’m not sure why, but the conversation eased his mind.”

“My guess is that he felt you respected him,” Lucky mused. “Did he bring up anything else?”

Edmond reflected. “Yes. He’s frustrated with his wife’s refusal to consider in vitro. She wasn’t present, so I have no idea how she views the matter.”

Lucky recalled Zora’s comments. “And he rejects hiring a surrogate?” The hospital maintained a roster of screened candidates.

“That’s right.”

Wheels spun in Lucky’s head. “If we persuaded Mrs. Adams to change her mind, that ought to solve the problem.”

“It might,” Edmond said. “But is it wise to try to manipulate a woman into having a child she might not want?”

“I believe she’s worried more about the medical risk than about having another child.” At a previous office visit, a successfully treated patient had arrived to show Cole his newborn son. In the waiting room, Portia Adams had reached out to touch the baby’s cheek and studied the child wistfully. Catching Lucky’s eye, she’d murmured something about missing those days now that her girls were growing up.

“Perhaps there’s a compromise position that might satisfy them both,” Edmond said. “What if his wife provided the eggs but didn’t carry the pregnancy?”

Lucky hadn’t thought about separating the two aspects of in vitro. “It’s worth a try.”

“Good,” Edmond said. “Any other questions?”

“Yes, although it’s unrelated.” While Lucky had promised not to pressure Zora, he hadn’t promised not to encourage others to do so. “Zora hasn’t broken the news to her ex about the twins. You’re her attorney. How about pointing out that the man has legal obligations?”

The attorney laced his fingers atop the desk. “I assure you, I already have.”

“You may have to get in her face, so she can’t brush you off.”

Edmond tilted his head. “May I share something with you that I’ve discovered about relationships?”

“Sure.” Lucky admired how much Edmond had grown and changed while reconciling with Melissa. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s important to respect her choices,” Edmond said.

“Even if you disagree with them?”

“Especially if you disagree with them.” Thoughtfully, the lawyer added, “And especially when she’s the person who has to deal with the consequences.”

“But Zora keeps repeating the same boneheaded mistakes,” Lucky protested.

“I suspect she understands her ex-husband better than either of us,” Edmond said. “Legally, she’ll have to inform him about the babies once they’re born, but until then, she might have reason to be cautious.”

Lucky only knew Andrew by reputation. “I suppose it’s hard to predict how a guy will react to that kind of news.”

“Exactly.”

The circumstances might not be perfect, but this was a situation of Andrew’s own making. Any decent guy would accept responsibility. However, the man had proven repeatedly that he didn’t care about honor or decency. “Thanks for the words of wisdom.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Lucky said as they both rose. “Does Zora have a sister named Zady?”

“I believe that’s her twin,” Edmond said.

“Thanks.” A twin. Damn! By applying for the job, Zady had put Lucky in a delicate position. He felt as if he ought to alert Zora, but her sister’s application was confidential.

He set off for the cafeteria, anxious to arrive before Zora finished eating so he could get her opinion about his discussion with Edmond. As for her mysterious twin, he’d better leave that hot potato alone.

* * *

BEING AROUND PERFECT people filled Zora with a sense of inadequacy. It was balanced by a fervent desire to figure out how they did it.

Take her obstetrician. Six feet tall with dramatic red hair and green eyes, Paige Brennan was a doctor, mother to an eighteen-month-old daughter and wife of the head of a detective agency. Everyone admired and adored her, including her nurse, Keely, who could barely stand most people.

Busy as she was, Dr. Brennan had fit in Zora’s exam during her lunch break. The woman was a step from sainthood.

As she sat on the examining table, Zora doubted she could ever develop such an air of confidence. As for inspiring others, she’d settle for earning their good-natured tolerance.

“Surely you have some questions,” the doctor said after listening to the babies’ heartbeats and reviewing Zora’s weight gain and test results. They were fine considering her stage of pregnancy. “You never mention any problems.”

“Am I supposed to?” Zora had been raised to consider complaining a sign of weakness.

“Frankly, yes.” The tall woman draped her frame over a stool. “At thirty-two weeks with a multiple pregnancy, you must be having trouble sleeping, and your ankles are swollen. As I’ve suggested before, you should be on bed rest.”

“I can’t afford it,” Zora said. “I don’t have a husband to wait on me.”

“What about the rest of your family?” the doctor asked.

“My mom and stepfather live in Oregon.” She’d rather not have either of them around. And there was no sense bringing up her twin, perfect Zady with her ideal husband and kids, whom their mother never failed to mention when she talked with Zora.

The doctor’s forehead creased. “Is your mom flying down for the birth?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Her mother would expect to be catered to, regardless of the circumstances. She’d be no help with a baby. At home, Mom waited on Zora’s surly, demanding stepfather, but her attitude toward her daughters—toward Zora, at least—was just the opposite.

Dr. Brennan regarded her with concern. “Have you chosen a labor partner?” At every visit, she’d recommended Zora sign up for a birthing class.

“I won’t need one for a C-section.” Although twins didn’t always have to be delivered surgically, Zora preferred to play it safe.

“If that’s what you want, okay.” The physician nodded. “But remember that what we call bed rest doesn’t necessarily require staying in bed. You can relax at home and perform routine tasks as you feel capable.”

“I feel capable of working.” To forestall further objections, Zora added, “And providing ultrasounds doesn’t harm the babies. It’s not like X-rays or mammograms.”

“But it does require standing on your feet all day. And for safety’s sake, you should stop driving.” Paige raised her eyebrows commandingly.

Zora was having trouble reaching the pedals in her car. “I could ride to work with my housemates.” Rod, whose car frequently broke down, cadged rides from others, so why shouldn’t she?

Keely chose that moment to step in from the hall. “I can drive her.”

“Excuse me?” Paige blinked at the unexpected comment.

“If I rent a room in their house, Zora can ride with me.” The nurse mustered a faint smile.

“I thought you had a roommate,” Zora said.

“So did I. Can we talk at lunch?”

“Sure.”

The obstetrician cleared her throat. “Keely, would you provide Zora with an after-visit summary and schedule an appointment for her in two weeks?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

The doctor typed a note into the computer. “Zora, call me if you have any problems, such as spotting or contractions, even if they don’t hurt. Okay?”

“Will do.” Zora accepted the nurse’s assistance in rising from the table.

Once she was dressed, she tucked the printed summary into her purse and walked to the elevator with Keely. With her neck thrust forward, the woman’s aggressive stance reinforced the impression of her as a difficult personality. Zora hoped she hadn’t erred by suggesting Keely move in with them.

“What’s the situation with your roommate?” she asked as they descended. The office was only one flight up, but in Zora’s condition, that might as well be ten stories.

“She’s in Iowa taking care of her mother,” Keely said. “She only planned to stay a week but that’s changed. Last night she emailed and asked me to ship all her stuff to her.”

“That was short notice. Your rent must be due next week.” It was the first of the month.

“That’s right. I’m glad you mentioned the vacancy.”

“Everything’s subject to Karen’s approval,” Zora warned.

“I’ll stop by her office later.”

It sounded like a done deal. At least Keely would be an improvement on Laird.

In the cafeteria, the blend of voices and aromas filled Zora with eagerness to share this new development with Lucky. Where was he? Her gaze swept past the food serving bays and across the crowded room.

She spotted him sharing a table with a thin and most unwelcome companion: Laird. The psychologist was talking a mile a minute, oblivious to Lucky’s irritated expression.

Zora would rather not discuss Keely in front of the competition. “Hold on,” she said, turning.

Too late. Keely was stomping right over to the table. Judging by the set of her shoulders, she didn’t plan to be subtle, either.

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