Marjorie remained in Sam’s car while Jody let herself into the apartment. Then he reached for her hand, squeezing gently. “I like your sister.”

  “She’s impressed with you, too.” That was a gross understatement, Marjorie thought to herself. Jody had been giving her signals all night that showed her wholehearted approval of Sam. In the ladies’ room she had gone so far as to suggest that if Marjorie didn’t want Sam, she’d take him.

  But Marjorie wanted Sam Bretton even more than she had before. She couldn’t look in his direction without her eyes revealing everything that was stored in her heart. She couldn’t hide her love for him any longer.

  “I have to stop off at the hospital for a minute,” he said, as he pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not. If you want, I’ll stay in the car.”

  “There’s no need for you to do that,” Sam came back quickly. “I want to introduce you to a couple of my friends. And this will give you a chance to see the two babies I delivered the other night.”

  Marjorie’s heart shot to her throat. Babies. Sam was as comfortable with them as she was with interest rates and electromechanically fuel-injected engines. Anyone under the age of two terrorized her; babies made her nervous and served to remind her of how inadequate she was in the traditional female role. Her biggest fear was that Sam would bring her into the hospital and expect her to go inside the nursery. He might even expect her to hold an infant, and then he would learn that not only were babies allergic to her, she was allergic to them.

  “How does that sound?” Sam asked, cutting into her troubled thoughts.

  “About the babies?” she hedged.

  “Yes, they’re—”

  “Sam, listen,” she said, rushing her words. “Maybe it would be better if I went back to the apartment with Jody.”

  He shot her a puzzled frown. The disappointment that welled up in him was strong. He couldn’t understand her sudden objection. Sure, she hadn’t especially enjoyed her hospital stay, and he could understand why. But her hesitation now puzzled him. “Go back to the apartment? Whatever for?”

  Marjorie made the pretense of glancing at her watch. “It’s late and—”

  “It’s barely after nine,” he countered, studying her. She was growing paler by the minute.

  Marjorie couldn’t look into Sam’s eyes and refuse him anything. “You’re right,” she said, determination squaring her shoulders. “I’m being silly. Of course I’ll go with you and meet your friends and see the babies. Everything will be wonderful.”

  She knew her tone was falsely cheerful, but she decided it was far better for her to confront her fears than to leave them unconquered. He would be with her—nothing would go wrong.

  * * *

  —

  He helped her out of the car and led her through a side entrance and to the elevator beyond. When the door shut, he punched the floor number and pulled her into his arms for a brief, ardent kiss.

  She tried to respond, but her heart was beating as hard and loud as a drum, and her insides were quivering with apprehension. She wanted to do everything right with Sam, and her fear of babies was sure to ruin her chances.

  He pulled her close to his side and stared at the closed doors. Marjorie was perfect, with her soft skin, her wide, soulful eyes, and a heart he longed to fill with his love.

  The elevator doors smoothly glided open, and Marjorie braced herself for the inevitable. Sam meant so much to her, and it was vital that she be the kind of woman he needed. Without meaning to, she pressed her flattened palms together and rubbed them back and forth several times. When he looked her way, he frowned, so she smiled tightly and freed her hands, letting her arms drop lifelessly to her sides.

  With his hand at the base of her spine, Sam directed Marjorie over to the nurses’ station and introduced her to three of the staff members he worked with regularly. The purpose of this visit was more social than anything else. He’d partially fabricated the need to stop in, in an effort to casually introduce her to his peers. It seemed as though she’d been a natural part of his life forever.

  “Is Bernie around?” Sam asked the oldest of the nurses, who reminded Marjorie of Bertha Powell. The two could have been sisters.

  “Dr. Miller’s in the lounge.”

  Sam reached for Marjorie’s hand, lacing her fingers through his as he led her down the wide hallway.

  “Nice to have met you,” Marjorie said brightly over her shoulder.

  “A pleasure,” the oldest nurse returned. The other two said nothing. Their wide-eyed stares told her that both of them were convinced she wasn’t good enough for their beloved Dr. Sam. The feeling of being watched persisted long after the staff members were out of sight.

  Bernie Miller was sitting at the round table in the middle of the doctors’ lounge, holding a cup of coffee. He was leaning over the table and holding his head up with one hand. When Sam and Marjorie entered the room, he raised his head, his gaze brightening. His fatigued features relaxed into a slow grin.

  “Bernie, I’d like you to meet Marjorie Majors.”

  Slowly Dr. Miller rose to his feet, but his gaze didn’t waver from Marjorie’s. “Hello there.”

  “Hi.” She stepped forward and offered him her hand.

  “So this is her?” Bernie’s gaze shot from Marjorie back to Sam as they ended the brief handshake.

  “In the flesh.” Sam draped his arm across Marjorie’s shoulders as he smiled down on her, his gaze filled with warmth. He hadn’t told many of his friends about Marjorie, but hiding the news of how he felt from his best buddy had been impossible. Bernie had known he’d met someone important the minute Sam casually mentioned her a few days earlier. Bernie had wanted to know all about her, but Sam had hesitated. He hadn’t been sure of his own feelings then. Marjorie appealed to him more than anyone had in a long time, but she wasn’t exactly the happy homemaker, and that realization had pulled him up short. Until he’d met Marjorie, the woman he’d pictured in his life had been able to both seduce him in the bedroom and whip up a five-course dinner.

  “I understand that you’re joining us for our picnic on Wednesday.”

  “Yes,” Marjorie said, and nodded for emphasis. “Thank you for including me.”

  Sam poured two more cups of coffee while she sat down and talked to Bernie, then joined them at the table. Marjorie mused to herself that things were going well. If only they could stop here. She had no trouble relating to adults: It was infants and children who caused her to break out in hives.

  “I’m going to take Marjorie to the nursery,” Sam was saying.

  Doing her utmost not to choke on her coffee, she pushed her cup aside and stood. If she thought her heart had been pounding in the elevator, now it was crashing like a Chinese gong as she followed Sam out of the doctors’ lounge. No doubt the three nurses she’d met earlier never had this problem. Most likely any one of them would gladly surrender her eyeteeth to have Dr. Sam Bretton.

  He led her down the wide corridor and into the nursery. Rows of bassinets were lined up in uniform fashion. Some of the infants were blanketed in pink, others in blue. Their surnames were written in bold letters in front of their mock cribs. Two of the nurses that Marjorie had just met now sat in rocking chairs, soothing crying infants.

  Sam donned a surgical robe and handed Marjorie one.

  “Sam,” she whispered, barely able to speak. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Just a minute,” he murmured, grinning boyishly. With a gentleness she’d witnessed several times in the last month, Sam lifted a small pink bundle from a crib and looked up at Marjorie, beaming proudly.

  “What do you think?” he asked, scooting sideways so she could more easily view the squirming infant in his wide embrace.

  Her eyes dropped to the scrunched-up face and minute fists as the baby struggled to get free of her bindings. She forced a smile, unable to think of anything to say.

  “Would you care to hold her?”

  Her dark eyes widened with alarm, and she forcefully shook her head. “No…thanks.” By the time she’d finished speaking, she’d backed herself out the door.

  “Marjorie, are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m a little…I’m fine,” she managed somehow. “Really.”

  As carefully as he’d lifted the infant, Sam replaced her in her bassinet. By the time he’d finished, Marjorie was leaning against the wall in the corridor outside the nursery.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, coming to stand beside her.

  “I…it’s no big thing.”

  “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not the type,” she said. “I’m not the kind of woman who goes all mushy at the sight of a baby, either. In case you hadn’t noticed, not all of us are alike. There are some of us who cook and crochet and get pregnant at the drop of a hat. And then there are others, like me, who are allergic to baby powder and dirty diapers, and content to eat TV dinners the rest of our miserable lives.”

  Sam’s eyes were incredulous. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t like babies?”

  “Sure, I do,” she said. “In somebody else’s arms.”

  Sam blinked, hardly able to believe his ears. He felt as if the world were crashing in around him. He’d decided not to worry about Marjorie’s lack of culinary skills, concluding that her strength and independence were more important than any domestic qualities. But when it came to having children, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—compromise.

  “Babies are fine for the right kind of woman,” she said. Her voice had gained in volume with the strength of her convictions. “Unfortunately, I’m not one of them.”

  “You don’t mean that.” His words were sharp.

  By now their heated exchange had attracted the attention of the hospital staff. If Sam’s nursing friends had disapproved of her earlier, it was nothing compared to the censure she felt being aimed at her now. They thought Sam deserved someone far better than she would ever be, and every accusing glare said as much.

  Without thought for the wisdom of her actions, she turned and half ran, half walked, down the polished corridor to the elevator, fighting back tears all the way.

  “Marjorie, wait!” Sam cried.

  Since the elevator wasn’t there yet anyway, she didn’t have much choice if she wanted to maintain her dignity. They descended in tense silence. Even when they left the hospital building and headed toward Sam’s car, neither of them spoke. By that time her throat was so clogged that it felt as though someone had a stranglehold on her. With everything that was in her, she yearned to be all Sam wanted in a woman, yet she’d failed miserably.

  Sam opened her door for her. His feet felt heavy as he walked around the car and let himself in. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He wanted a family, longed for children, and he yearned for Marjorie to give them to him.

  She watched him with despair. The tears that had been so close to the surface ran down her cheeks like water over a dam after an early spring thaw, and she turned her head away so he couldn’t see. At that moment she would have sold her soul to be different. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “You want children, don’t you?”

  Her heart cracked when he was silent, and she realized he couldn’t deny it. Sam Bretton would make a wonderful father; he was a natural.

  “Yes,” he answered finally. He couldn’t deny his desire for a family. Almost from the beginning, he’d pictured Marjorie with a child in her arms—their child. For years he’d been seeking a woman who was strong enough to stand on her own, and tender enough to need and love him. These last weeks with Marjorie had led him to believe he’d found that special woman…until tonight.

  “I’m no good with babies, and I’m even worse with children,” she whispered in a choked voice. “That’s not going to change.”

  Eight

  For the second time that morning, Marjorie checked the picnic basket. Her nerves were shot. She hadn’t heard from Sam, nor had she contacted him. For three days she’d done nothing but think about him and how wrong they were for each other. The realization didn’t do any good, though; she still loved him, still wanted him, still yearned for them to build a life together. She would give anything to be the right person for him, but she couldn’t change what she was, couldn’t become someone different.

  Now it was the Fourth of July, and she wasn’t even sure he would show up to take her to the picnic and wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

  She paused to take a calming breath and rubbed her hands down the thighs of her new jeans. They had been Jody’s idea. Marjorie hadn’t told her sister what happened between her and Sam, but Jody had guessed something was drastically wrong. The following morning she had insisted they go shopping, claiming there wasn’t any ailment a department store couldn’t cure. The jeans, Jody claimed, did great things for Marjorie’s legs. For all Marjorie cared, they could have been made from sackcloth.

  The weather outside wasn’t promising; thick gray clouds had formed overhead. As an afterthought, she tucked a thick sweater inside the basket.

  The doorbell chimed, and her heart lurched. She swallowed and opened the door. Sam, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, stood on the other side. He didn’t look any better than she felt. Although he was outwardly composed, turmoil and regret were evident in his eyes and the hard set of his mouth.

  He stepped inside her living room and hesitated, then smiled. The movement transformed his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, convinced she should have worn anything but jeans. Denim might help her legs, but it didn’t do a thing for her hips.

  “The jeans,” Sam managed.

  “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?” Silently she blamed her sister. Marjorie knew better than to listen to the advice of a college student who was toying with the idea of tinting her hair blue.

  “No,” he murmured.

  “I can change, don’t worry,” she went on brightly. “It’ll only take a minute.”

  “Don’t,” he said, and smiled briefly. “You look fantastic.” His gaze was warm and sincere.

  Marjorie thought she would cry. She’d been as taut as a violin bow, as well as nervous and worried. Until the minute he spoke, she’d had no idea what he was thinking. Apparently he’d decided to put the incident in the hospital behind them—at least for today. She knew that they should talk and try to settle this problem, but in three days she hadn’t been able to come up with a solution, and from his haggard look, she suspected that Sam hadn’t, either. Today they would put their troubles aside and enjoy the holiday. She was grateful.

  “Every woman should look so good in Levi’s,” he said.

  A smile curved her mouth. “You honestly like them?”

  “Yes, Kitten, I do.”

  Sam longed to take her in his arms and hold her, but he didn’t dare. These last days without her had been a self-imposed nightmare. After years of searching for a woman he could love, respect, and admire, he’d been convinced he’d found her in Marjorie. No, she wasn’t exactly the woman he’d pictured, but he’d discovered he could accept her quirks, loved her all the more because of them. They were part and parcel of who she was. But children…He’d dedicated his life to reproduction and childbirth. To him, children were as essential as food and water. He needed a woman who wanted to give him a family. He could find no way to compromise on an issue so basic to his happiness.

  After that night at the hospital, Sam had decided to make a clean break from her. There didn’t seem to be any purpose in prolonging the agony. But he’d learned it wasn’t that simple. He thought about her constantly, longed to talk to her. After two torturous days he’d known that forgetting about her would be impossible. He would have to think of something to help him solve this problem.

  “I’ve missed you,” he murmured, as his eyes held hers.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she answered, and her voice was filled with regret. “Sam,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  “I am, too, Kitten.” He drew a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. She couldn’t change what she was, and he couldn’t help loving her. He prayed they could find a solution to this, because now that he had found Marjorie, he couldn’t let her go.

  * * *

  —

  “Betty,” Sam said, his arm loosely draped over Marjorie’s shoulders. “This is Marjorie Majors. Marjorie, Betty.”

  “Hi,” Betty Miller said cordially, her blue eyes twinkling. She was bouncing a toddler on her hip, and the shy little boy hid his face against his mother’s shoulder. “I’m so pleased you could make it. Can you believe this weather? Only on Puget Sound would we have a fireplace going on the Fourth of July.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  Betty was slender and pretty, exactly the type Marjorie had always pictured as a doctor’s wife. Her deep blue eyes were warm and gentle, and Marjorie doubted that Betty Miller had an enemy in this world.

  “The ruffian on my hip is Kevin. He’s three,” Betty added, and encouraged her son to look up long enough to greet their company. Kevin, however, held his fists over his eyes and refused to acknowledge Marjorie or Sam.

  “Hi, Kevin,” Marjorie offered stiffly, but to no avail.

  The little boy buried his face deeper into his mother’s shoulder. “He’s a little bit shy,” Betty explained, her face flushed with embarrassment.

  “That’s all right,” Marjorie said, in an effort to reassure her. She understood far better than Betty could realize. Kids instinctively knew she was rotten mother material. She didn’t know how they knew, but they did.