About the Baby

CHAPTER ONE

April

“CAN I BUY YOU A DRINK?”

Dr. Lucas Montgomery turned with a frown, annoyed at having his few minutes of hard-won solitude disturbed. The annoyance turned to something else entirely, however, at his first glimpse of the leggy redhead with the killer curves and impish smile. She was holding out a glass of champagne, her green eyes twinkling in the dim courtyard lights of the hotel terrace.

“The champagne’s free,” he told her.

“And yet you’re not drinking any.” She gestured slightly with the glass. “Come on. Live a little.”

Raising an eyebrow at her teasing, he reached for the champagne flute and kept his gaze locked with hers as he downed the effervescent liquid in one swig.

“Shall I get you another?” she asked dryly as he set the glass on top of a stone ledge.

“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“Perhaps, but I haven’t finished my drink yet.” She held up the nearly full glass for his inspection.

“I won’t hold that against you,” he answered with a smile. He couldn’t help it—he really liked looking at her. Clasping her free hand in his, he murmured, “Dance with me.”

Her lips twisted in contemplation and when she didn’t immediately answer, he slipped the glass of champagne from her hand and set it next to his empty one.

“Come on,” he urged. Wrapping his right arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and started to glide over the redbrick patio.

“You want to dance here?” She paused for a moment, refusing to budge as she considered.

“What’s wrong with here? Live a little,” he mimicked, certain the dare would get to her.

She laughed then, a husky, full-bodied sound that made him laugh along with her. “Nothing’s wrong with here. I just didn’t realize terrace dancing was one of your specialties.”

It wasn’t, but he had a feeling it was right up her alley. And when she stopped resisting and allowed him to propel her out of the shadows and into the small pool of light cast by the old-fashioned globe lantern, he knew he was right.

They were close enough to the ballroom to hear the music, and for long seconds neither of them talked as they moved together under the heavy branches of a centuries-old magnolia tree. With her heels on, she was only a couple inches shorter than his own height of six foot four.

He liked the way she fit against him. When the song ended, she tried to step away, but he held on. She indulged him for a moment, eyes closed and head resting against his shoulder. Then, with a sigh, she stepped away. He let her go, but when she tugged a little in an effort to free her hand, he refused to relinquish it. “How was Africa?” he asked softly.

“Same as always.” While the reply was flippant, the sadness that moved behind her eyes was anything but. “Beautiful, but nightmarish.”

“Did you get everything taken care of?”

“As much as we could. Cholera isn’t something to play around with. We managed to vaccinate nine refugee camps as well as educate them on prevention measures and the handling of blood and tissue samples. It’s not enough, but at least this outbreak is under control. But I’m sure it will pop up again soon and then we’ll be right back where we were two months ago.”

His stomach clenched a little at the thought of Kara going up against such a miserable illness¸ but he made himself ignore it. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d taken on a deadly disease and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be the last. She was an epidemiologist for the Center for Disease Control. Traveling to hot spots around the world and figuring out where and how the outbreak happened was her job—and her calling.

Concern about his best friend’s safety might keep him up some nights, but he was the only one. An adventurer through and through, Kara rarely worried about herself. She relished the thrill of running a virus to ground, as well as helping the people who so much of the world preferred to forget.

He understood her drive, her need to make the world a better place. He’d done his stint in For the Children, one of the leading organizations that brought doctors into developing nations, and in doing so had seen just how desperately people needed help.

But, unlike Kara, he hadn’t been able to hack it long-term. He’d gotten out early, had chosen to start a low-income clinic in the poorest area of Atlanta instead. Not because he didn’t believe in helping those who couldn’t help themselves, but because he knew that staying in Africa, witnessing the soul-deep suffering, would eventually kill him—as it nearly had his clinic partners, Amanda Hart and Jack Alexander.

Together the three of them dealt with everything at their clinic, from gunshot wounds to diagnosing cancer. And while there never seemed to be enough time, enough money, enough anything, at least here he could see that he was making a difference. When he’d been in Ethiopia it had felt like everything he’d done had been barely a drop in a leaky bucket.

Though he knew Kara didn’t feel the same way about her time in Africa, he couldn’t help asking, “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. A little tired is all,” she admitted with a grimace. “I got in late last night and my body’s clock is all messed up.”

“So what are you doing here? You should be home sleeping.”

“Well, that was the plan. But earlier, I called the clinic to see if you could do lunch today but you had scheduled appointments right through your lunch hour, as usual. Your receptionist told me about this benefit event. And since I know how much you love these things, I figured it was my duty as your oldest and dearest friend to dust off my dancing shoes and suffer right along with you.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you are a terrific best friend?”

“A time or two.” She pretended to buff her nails on her dress. “But it’s a sentiment that bears repeating.”

“No doubt.” He draped an arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick squeeze. “And I very much appreciate your sacrifice.”

“And well you should. I’ve been in Somalia for the last seven weeks, running around in hiking boots and tennis shoes. Squeezing my feet into these heels—” she held up one slender foot encased in a pair of red-sequined stilettos “—has been absolute torture.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he said with a grin.

“Well, that’s obvious. But since you’ve got me, at least until the next crisis rears its ugly head, what do you say we blow this pop stand and go find something more interesting to do—after I sit down for five minutes.”

“I can’t leave. I’m one of the hosts,” he said as he cupped a hand around her elbow and escorted her to the closest stone bench.

She sat, gratefully, and kicked off her right shoe so she could rub her toes. “Which is why you’re hiding out on the patio? Because you’re so concerned about your hosting duties?”

“I’m taking a break. I wanted a breather before I had to start making the rounds to say good-night to everyone.”

“So take a longer break. I was just in the ballroom. It’s well after midnight and the party has already started to break up. Amanda, Jack and your mother have everything under control.”

“No doubt. But Amanda threatened me with many, many painful things if I stepped out of line tonight. Not to mention what my mother said she would do if I embarrassed her. Somehow I think ducking out right before I’m supposed to position myself near the door and thank everyone for the copious amounts of money they’ve spent here tonight definitely falls into both categories.”

“Okay, I can understand your fear of your mother’s wrath. She can be scary when she gets going. But don’t tell me you’re afraid of a pregnant woman?”

“Damn right I am. Amanda’s mean,” he said with affection, so Kara would know he was teasing.

“I have to admit, I wondered how she got you here. Normally it’s impossible to get you to attend a big charity event, even if it is for your own clinic.”

Lucas shook his head. “I’m not even sure how we ended up having a big charity event, to be honest with you. One second I’m complaining about how hard it’s been to pry funding out of the government and our regular donors—at a time when we need it most. The next thing I know Amanda’s dialing her husband to see if his cable news network might like to sponsor a ball to raise money. She got Jack’s girlfriend, Sophie, involved along with my mom and sisters, and here we are.”

“Nobody throws a party like your mom and sisters.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” He heard the harsh edge of sarcasm in his voice, and tried to smooth it out. “They throw magnificent parties.”

The knowing look Kara sent him told him he hadn’t quite managed it. That was the problem with best friends—they’d been around long enough to know your dirty family laundry whether you liked it or not.

“I think they’ve done a wonderful job,” she told him. “The ballroom looks gorgeous and the turnout is huge. You guys are going to make a bundle for the clinic.”

“I hope so. Amanda’s worked so hard on it that I’d hate to see it fail.” Especially since she’d spent all her free time organizing the benefit when she should have been concentrating on her new marriage to Simon and impending motherhood.

“It won’t fail,” Kara reassured him. “You guys are amazing, and everyone here—especially the ones with deep pockets—has figured that out.”

She reached for her champagne and quickly downed it. Then shot him the mischievous look that had first gotten his attention all those years ago. “Last chance to duck out before we head back into the ballroom and get swallowed by the legion of Dr. Montgomery fans. And, as extra incentive, if you leave with me now, I promise to buy you the biggest and best piece of apple pie in Atlanta. There’s this great diner right down the street, but they close at one, so if we’re going to go, we need to hustle.”

Thinking she was joking, he started to refuse a second time. But when he looked at her, really looked at her, he saw. There was something wrong, something in her eyes that said she needed a shoulder to cry on. His had been her shoulder of choice since they’d met in the freshman dorms seventeen years before—and vice versa. It wasn’t like he could turn her away and he didn’t want to. Kara so rarely needed comforting, or anything else, from him. The fact that she needed it now—that she had so obviously sought him out—worried him enough to have him shifting his priorities.

“So, if we were to attempt an escape,” he said, kneeling down to slide her shoe back onto her foot, “what do you think our best way out of here is?”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? You want to leave?”

“Darlin’, I’ve wanted to break out of here since two seconds after I arrived. You’re just the impetus I’ve been waiting for.”

Obviously afraid he’d change his mind if she let him think about it too long, Kara jumped to her feet. “Let’s go, then. I’ve got the escape route all planned out. Simon has Amanda resting at a table near the ballroom entrance where they can bid everyone good-night. They’re dealing with a steady stream of doctors, socialites and news people alike and they’re fielding questions about the baby, so they should be occupied for quite some time.

“Jack and Sophie are dancing—he can’t keep his eyes—or his hands—off her. And your mom and sisters, along with their dates, are still holding court in the center of the room.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the edge of the terrace. “And can I just say, go Mom! She’s with Nicholas Vega, newsman extraordinaire. He’s hanging on her every word.”

“Of course he is. She’s laying on the famous Montgomery charm. Her latest lover got wise and dropped her a couple of weeks ago so she’s on the prowl for a new bank account. This benefit is a perfect opportunity for her to close the deal.”

Kara laid a hand on his shoulder, and for a second he tensed, expecting her to say the same things his sisters did. That he was being too tough on Candy. That he needed to try to be more understanding. That he should cut her a break once in a while.

But this was Kara, who knew him better than anybody, and all she said was, “Rough couple of months with your mom, huh?”

He snorted. “More like a rough couple of decades, don’t you think?”

He knew he sounded cynical, but it was hard to be anything else when it came to his mother. In the years since his dad had died, she’d run through the very significant portfolio he’d left for her and now counted on Lucas or whatever man she was currently dating to take care of her.

After ten years and twice as many rich lovers, he’d given up expecting her to change. Of course, he’d also given up “cutting her a break.” If that made him a bastard, then he was willing to live with it—even if his sisters couldn’t.

Turning to Kara, he switched the focus back where it belonged. “So, how exactly does this escape plan of yours begin?”

* * *

KARA WATCHED AS LUCAS’S eyes went cold and hard at the mention of his mother. Not that she blamed him. Most of the time, she wanted to shake some sense into Candy Montgomery herself and she wasn’t even related to the woman. She could only imagine how bad it was for Lucas, control freak extraordinaire and the most dependable man she’d ever met, to be saddled with a mother who not only wouldn’t be controlled, but who was completely undependable.

As they scooted around the terrace, she glanced through the ballroom windows and saw his mother doing what she did best—telling an animated story to a gaggle of admirers. She was beautiful and glittery and obviously in her element as the center of attention at a benefit that should be all about her son. Not that anyone who knew her would be surprised.

What was surprising, at least to Kara, was how two people who looked so alike could be such different people. Both Lucas and his mother were absolutely stunning, with classically beautiful faces, piercing blue eyes and dark ebony hair. Lucas wore it too long and his mom wore it in a short, gamine cut that showed off her gorgeous bone structure and ageless skin. And though Lucas, at six foot four, stood about eight inches taller than his mother, they both had long, lean bodies and an innate sense of grace that drew gazes to them wherever they went.

Yet that was where the resemblance ended. Candy Montgomery was simpering, flighty and completely irresponsible. Oh, she was sweet—and as charming as the rest of Lucas’s family—but she lived in a dream world. Which would be fine, except for the fact that Lucas’s father had taught his son at an early age that he was the responsible one, the one whose job it was to take care of his mom and sisters if anything happened to Lucas, Sr. It was a responsibility he’d taken seriously for the ten years since his father had died, one that required he bail his mom and sisters out of whatever trouble they got themselves into. Which was a significant amount of trouble.

Lucas never complained, and she never brought it up, but after seventeen years of watching his mother and sisters taking financial and emotional advantage of him, Kara wanted to tell them all to grow up. They were adults and it was no longer his job to take care of them. But she refused to give Lucas her opinion on it unless he asked—the last thing she wanted to do was cause him more stress.

Kara saw Candy start to scan the crowd, as if she was looking for someone. It was probably time to show off her son. Kara reached out and shoved Lucas, hard. Completely unprepared for the push, he stumbled back a few steps—just enough to be hidden from view by a giant column, exactly as she’d intended.

“What the hell was that for?” he demanded.

She ducked behind the column with him. “I had to think fast. We were about to be spotted.”

“I didn’t realize we were actually hiding.”

“Of course we’re hiding. How else are we supposed to get out of here?” She stuck her head out, looked around. Candy had turned and was walking toward the front of the ballroom—straight for Amanda and Jack but with her back to the window. She grabbed Lucas’s hand and tugged him into the shadows of the patio.

“Come on, now’s our chance to escape.”

Lucas reached out and snagged her hand, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “You do realize that we aren’t mounting a prison break, don’t you? We’re simply leaving a fundraiser a few minutes early.”

She shot him a pitying look. “I will have you know, this is much more complicated than a prison break. After all, in prison, all they do is toss you back in your cell. Here, if we get caught, they might actually kick you out of high society completely.”

He snorted. “I couldn’t get that lucky.”

“Still, why risk it?” Grabbing his hand, she began skulking along the edges of the terrace, sticking to the shadows so that no one could see them.

“You’re completely insane,” he told her, but he played along, anyway, which was exactly as she’d intended. After all, if he was wrapped up in humoring her, he wasn’t brooding about his mommy issues.

Which was a good thing. He was far too good a man to spend his life worrying about things he’d never be able to change. She’d spent too much of the last decade stuck in that catch-22 herself, and there was no way she was going to let her closest friend fall into the same trap.

Finally, they ran out of fence and building to skulk against and reached an open spot on the terrace. After stepping out of the shadows, she chanced another look in the ballroom and realized that they must have been spotted, because his sisters were headed directly for them.

“Duck,” she whispered, bending down so that she was partially hidden by the hedge in front of them. When Lucas just stood there, eyebrows raised incredulously, she grabbed his hand and tugged until he bent down, too.

“What are we doing?” he asked again.

“Hiding from your sisters. I think they spotted us.”

“It’d be hard to miss us, seeing as how we’re acting like maniacs.” Despite his words, he didn’t seem particularly put out by their actions. “Is there some reason I can’t just say good-night to them like a normal person would?”

“No, of course not. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, is that what this escape is supposed to be about? Fun?”

“Ha-ha.” She elbowed him in the stomach. “We can stand up and go say good-night. But I’ve got to tell you, your sisters look like women on a mission. If we go talk to them, I don’t think we’re getting out of here anytime soon.”

She watched as he poked his head above the hedge and checked out the way his sisters were storming the terrace. And though the guests had been trickling home for the past half an hour or so, there were still enough people around that they had gathered quite an entourage behind them.

“I think you’re right,” he finally said.

“So what do you want to do? Stay and talk to them or make a run for it?” She braced herself for the first answer—after all, Lucas didn’t know how to shirk responsibility. And though she was disappointed their little game would end, she was just pleased he’d played along with her this long. Lucas didn’t have enough fun in his life, and lately, neither had she.

She was so convinced that their little game of hide-and-seek was over that when he said, “Let’s make a run for it,” it took a few seconds for the words to register.

“Seriously?” she asked him after she managed to close her mouth.

He grinned. “Last one to the lobby is a rotten egg.”

CHAPTER TWO

KARA DIDN’T ANSWER HIS challenge right away, though Lucas did see her relax a little in relief. Instead, she crept forward to the edge of the bushes, one small step at a time. But the second she reached the pathway that circled around to the front of the hotel, she was off and running, sprinting down the trail to the hotel’s front door.

He was hot on her heels, could have beaten her easily—she was in four-inch stilettos, after all. But he was enjoying the view of her long legs and curvy ass in her short, tight red dress too much to rush ahead. She might be his best friend, and off-limits because of it, but he was still a man and it was a hell of a view. Besides, Kara was laughing, the melancholy exhaustion of earlier long gone, and he was definitely willing to finish second if it meant keeping the smile on her face.

“I won!” she exclaimed the second he turned the corner to the valet parking area.

“I noticed.”

“So what’s my prize?”

“A ride home?” he asked, fishing in his pocket for his valet ticket.

She made a disparaging sound. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It kind of is.”

“Careful, Lucas, you’re getting staid in your old age.”

“You are aware that we’re exactly the same age,” he reminded her, reaching out to yank on one of her flame-red curls.

She kicked off her shoes, scooped them up. “Yeah, but I’m not an old fuddy-duddy.”

“I’m not boring.” He knew she was just joking, but the accusation stung a little. It hit too close to home, he supposed. It was too similar to what his family told him regularly.

“I never said you were boring,” she said, snatching his keys out of his hand and dropping them into her red-beaded clutch. “But I figure we can do better than a ride home. That diner with the apple pie is just up the street. I say we go for it.”

She started walking and he found himself following along behind her. That apple pie did sound good—and maybe the chance to relax over dessert would get Kara talking. Because as much as he’d enjoyed being a part of her absurd little getaway, Kara was only ever this crazy when something was very wrong. Through the years, he’d learned there was an inverse correlation between the two. The more upset Kara was, the more lighthearted and silly she’d act. And while he was happy to go along for the ride, at some point she was going to run out of gas and he had every intention of being there for her when she did.

As they walked, Kara bombarded him with questions. How’s the clinic? How’s life? How’s your family? He let her get away with the inane small talk, though he knew it was more about keeping the focus on him and off herself than it was about stuff they’d already covered. But sometimes keeping the peace was more important than getting to the bottom of things right away. Life with a histrionic mother and two high-maintenance sisters had taught him that.

Besides, this was Kara. She’d never been able to keep a secret from him in her life and he had no intention of letting her do so now. If he didn’t push, she’d eventually loosen up and it would all come spilling out. And if it didn’t…well, then he’d push.

Still, though they’d walked together a million times—through the deserted midnight streets of downtown Atlanta as well as a hundred other places—something felt off tonight. Like there was something between them and they weren’t quite connecting, though the rhythm of their speech was as relaxed as always.

It made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to count on much in his life—more often than not the clinic was one short budget cut away from extinction and since his father had died, he was the one his family turned to for just about everything. But Kara was different. She was the one person he could always count on to be there for him and to be straight with him. He couldn’t stand the idea that there was something she wasn’t sharing with him, something that was bothering her that she wasn’t letting him help with. He’d just made up his mind to ask her what was going on when she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up at the pocket of midnight sky that wasn’t blocked by buildings.

“It’s a beautiful night—not too hot or humid yet,” she said.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Now we’re going to talk about the weather?”

“Not really. I was just making conversation.” She never took her eyes from the sky, and finally he glanced up, too, trying to figure out what she found so interesting. But it was the same sky they always saw. “You can’t see any stars from here,” he finally told her. “The lights are too bright.”

She sighed. “I know. I kind of like that.”

“Since when? You’ve been into stargazing as long as I’ve known you. God knows, we did enough of it in college.”

“We did do a lot of it. I used to love driving out to the middle of nowhere with you, staring up at that infinite sky, bursting with possibilities.”

“So what’s changed?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Or everything. You know, in Somalia, the sky is so wide-open. It goes on for miles and miles. When I was there, looking at it and feeling completely insignificant, it occurred to me that there’s something comforting about only being able to see this little bit of sky. You know what I mean?”

No, he really didn’t. He found the whole concept behind her explanation pretty damned depressing, actually. Not to mention it sounded nothing like the take-life-by-the-tail adventurer he knew her to be.

Trying to think over the clang of warning bells going off in the back of his mind, he decided delicacy be damned. He was getting to the bottom of this. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Kara?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You seem…troubled.”

She dropped her eyes back to his and smiled stiffly. “I told you, it’s the jet lag. I’m just a little off.”

If this was a little, he’d hate to see a lot. “Do you want to go home?”

“No!” she answered forcefully, panic flashing before she tamped it down. “The diner’s up ahead.”

“I’m not really in the mood for pie.”

“Now those are words I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

He wanted to shake her, to demand that she tell him what was going on in her head. He knew it wasn’t the way to get it out of her, but part of him didn’t care. She was hurting and it was his job to make it better. It had always been his job, with everyone in his life. Why couldn’t Kara understand that and just let him help?

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair before demanding, “Tell me, Kara. Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“Spit what out?” She looked confused, but under it all was a shade of panic that set off his own nerves.

“Are you sick?” he asked abruptly.

“What? No.”

“Were you hurt in Somalia?”

“Of course not. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Because you’re not talking to me. I want to know what’s put that bruised look in your eyes. And don’t,” he said as she opened her mouth to protest, “pretend that you have no idea what I’m talking about. It will only piss me off.”

* * *

KARA STARED AT LUCAS, words welling up on her tongue that she had no idea how to say. Not to him when he wouldn’t understand. He always knew what he was doing, always had a plan. And once he’d made that plan, he stuck to it. No matter what. How could he understand that she was suddenly, deathly afraid that she couldn’t stick to the life plan she’d made for herself? Or worse, that she’d made a mistake ever thinking it was right for her?

No, she couldn’t tell him. Not now. She needed more time to figure it out in her own head, more time to decide what her options were before she asked him for his advice. With Lucas, it was always better to have a few backup plans in place before talking to him. Otherwise, he’d just take over and she’d find herself right back where she’d started.

Closing her eyes for a moment to clear her head, she opened them to find Lucas staring straight at her. Since she couldn’t meet his eyes, not when she was lying to him, she shifted her gaze behind her—and realized they’d stopped in front of her favorite park. Suddenly the idea of doing something mindless, something just for fun, appealed to her in a way nothing had for a very long time.

Was it absurd? Yes.

Was she going to do it, anyway? Absolutely.

Maybe it would buy her the time she needed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to say. Because the look in Lucas’s eye said he wasn’t going to let her get away with evading him for long. Not this time. Not tonight.

“Wanna swing?” she asked him, nodding to the park behind him.

“Swing?” It was like he’d never heard of the word.

“It’ll be fun.” She walked closer to the locked fence that kept the public out after eleven at night.

“Are you kidding me?” Lucas demanded. “I want to talk about what’s going on with you and you want to go play in the sandbox?”

“Swings, not sandbox,” she said, tossing her shoes over the fence before grabbing onto the fence and starting to climb. “Try to keep up.”

“I would if you weren’t completely insane.” He paused. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked, reaching for the top of the fence and pulling herself up. “I can’t leave my shoes here—those are my only pair of Jimmy Choos.”

“The park is closed!” he hissed.

“And your point is?”

“My point is, it’s closed. You can get arrested for trespassing, you know.”

“Give me a break. It’s a public park.” Hiking her dress up to the tops of her thighs, she climbed over the fence, careful of the iron spikes, then dropped down to the grass below. “Are you coming?” she asked, picking up her heels and pretending she didn’t care if he followed her or not.

Lucas sighed heavily and she could all but see his eye roll as he said, “Of course I’m coming. This is downtown Atlanta. God only knows what could happen to you in there.”

As he pulled himself up and over the fence in a couple of smooth, well-coordinated movements—much smoother and well-coordinated than her own—she refrained from reminding him that she’d managed to survive on her own in places a lot rougher than Atlanta. But the last thing she wanted was to bring her job into the conversation, not when she’d done everything in her power to avoid talking about it.

He dropped to the ground beside her. “So what do you want to do now?” he demanded, his voice put-upon. But he couldn’t hide his grin—or the dimple in his left cheek that only came when he was deeply amused by something.

“We’re in a park, Lucas. What do you think I want to do?” She grabbed his hand and took off, running full out down the grassy hill that led to the playground equipment. But about halfway down, she tripped over a sprinkler head. As she stumbled, Lucas tried to stop her fall and somehow they got all tangled up together. They hit the ground, hard, and then they were rolling down the hill, Lucas instinctively wrapping his arms around her to protect her.

They came to a stop against the side of a small gazebo, a few feet from the bottom of the hill. Lucas hit with an oomph, though she wasn’t sure if that was because he’d born the brunt of the hit or because she had landed on top of him.

Certain she wasn’t helping matters, she struggled to climb off him, but was so dizzy from the roll that she ended up straddling him, her head on his chest as she tried to keep the world around her from spinning. She glanced up at Lucas, who had a very disgruntled look on his face—like he couldn’t imagine that he had somehow been a part of anything so undignified. The absolute shock, mingled with the sight of his expression, made her throw her head back and giggle like crazy.

Immediately, his hand shot up to the back of her head, his fingers probing her scalp. “Did you hit your head?” he demanded, trying to sit up. Which wasn’t easy considering she was stretched out on top of him and laughing like a hyena.

“If you could see your face,” she sputtered, “you’d laugh, too.”

His left eyebrow rose in that adorably sardonic way of his, which only made her amusement harder to control. Within moments, he joined in and the two of them laughed themselves silly.

This was what she missed the most when she was working on location. Kara rolled onto her back and looked up at the slightly wider expanse of sky above them. She decided it wasn’t Chinese takeout or her big feather bed or access to a regular shower that she missed most—though a shower did run a close second. No, what she missed more than anything was Lucas.

Spending time with her other friends and colleagues was never as much fun as spending time with him. Oh, he walked the walk of the rich, Southern gentleman, but inside that smooth, slightly reserved exterior was a wicked sense of humor and an incredible capacity for fun. He didn’t show it to many people, and she couldn’t help being grateful that she was one of the chosen few he could let down his guard with.

“What now?” he finally asked when their laughter had quieted. “You want to fall off the monkey bars, maybe break your collarbone? Or should we go for something more sedate, like riding the merry-go-round till we puke?”

She reached over, rested a finger against the right corner of his mouth and pressed upward. “You need to smile when you say that stuff. Someone who doesn’t know you might think you’re serious.”

“I am serious. If we try hard enough, maybe we could hang ourselves on the swings.”

“Make fun of me all you want,” she said, swatting his shoulder. “But you have to admit this is a lot better than that stupid gala.”

“So is a root canal, darlin’, so don’t get too full of yourself.”

She went to smack him again but he moved lightning fast and caught her fist in his hand. His face turned serious. “You’ve been running an awful lot tonight, Kara. It’s time to settle down and tell me what it’s all about.”

Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the concern on his face, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Not when he was still holding her hand, his thumb stroking softly across the back of her palm.

“I can’t breathe. I just—I can’t…” Her breath caught on a sob she could no longer swallow down. It had been sitting there for days and weeks, maybe even months, waiting to escape. She tried to stop it—and the ones that came after it. The last thing Lucas needed was for her to turn into a basket case. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the surge inside of her.

“Aw, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap.

She went without a struggle, letting him rock her as she sobbed out all her pain and frustration and fear. Her last few trips—to Colombia, Somalia and the Sudan—had been awful. So awful that there was a part of her, despite what she’d told Lucas earlier, that couldn’t imagine going back.

Sure, she could map the outbreak of the disease, figure out where it started and why. That helped people in the long run—she understood that. It was why she’d chosen to be an epidemiologist to begin with. But it didn’t do anything for people in the short-term and she wasn’t sure she could take it anymore, to watch people die terrible deaths in the hope that somehow she could save others two, five, ten years down the road.

Finally, she wore herself out, the crying subsiding to the occasional shudder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his tuxedo shirt, ashamed of her loss of control now that she was coming back to herself. Lucas had enough on his plate—the last thing she’d wanted to do was burden him with more.

For long seconds Lucas didn’t answer, just stroked her hair softly. She had pretty much given up on a response when he said, “You don’t need to be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

This time she was the one who took long seconds to answer. And when she finally did find her voice, the only words that came out were, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning, baby.”

She would, except at this point, she had no idea when that was.