Her Christmas Baby Bump

Dear Reader,

This book is the first I’ve written as part of a continuity, and it was fun and challenging. I really enjoyed the way the editors came up with story ideas and connected the different books. It would have been hard to choose which hunky hero I wanted to write about, so I’m thrilled I was given sexy Aaron Cartwright to fall in love with in my story.

The other authors in the series set up an online chat so we could discuss the storylines and ask questions of each other. A thank-you shout-out to Louisa George, Scarlet Wilson and Tina Beckett for their help—particularly Scarlet who, as the only author in our group currently living in the UK, was always happy to answer the numerous questions I had about medicine and midwives in England as compared to the US … and there were plenty of surprising differences.

Aaron and Hope share an attraction they’ve felt just from noticing one another in the hospital corridors even before they officially meet. When they finally do, it’s zing with a capital Z! But both have baggage from their pasts that make a relationship impossible. Not to mention Hope’s secret plans to have a baby on her own through IVF very soon—a decision that rips open Aaron’s old wounds when he finds out. But a fling isn’t a relationship, right? Or so they think …! :)

I hope you enjoy Hope and Aaron’s story, and the way they both come to see that the things they’ve always believed about themselves aren’t necessarily true. Learning this isn’t easy, and it takes falling in love with one another to see it.

I’d love to know what you think of this story! You can email me at Robin@RobinGianna.com, find me on my website, RobinGianna.com, or look me up on Facebook.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Robin xoxo

After completing a degree in journalism, working in the advertising industry, then becoming a stay-at-home mum, ROBIN GIANNA had what she calls her ‘mid-life awakening’. She decided she wanted to write the romance novels she’d loved since her teens, and embarked on that quest by joining RWA, Central Ohio Fiction Writers, and working hard at learning the craft. She loves sharing the journey with her characters, helping them through obstacles and problems to find their own happily-ever-afters. When not writing, Robin likes to create in her kitchen, dig in the dirt, and enjoy life with her tolerant husband, three great kids, drooling bulldog and grouchy Siamese cat. To learn more about her work visit her website: RobinGianna.com.

Her Christmas Baby Bump

Robin Gianna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This one is for you, Flora Torralba!

Thanks so much for your steady willingness to help in any way, for tolerating my nuttiness, and for keeping me sane.

I don’t know what I’d do without you—you’re the best! xoxo

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“HELLO, KATE? IT’S just me.” Hope Sanders gently knocked on the door and stepped inside her patient’s room. “Let’s check and see how it’s going, shall we?”

Kate kept sucking on her ice cube and just stared, apparently so exhausted she couldn’t conjure up any kind of response. Hope gave her a positive smile, sending up a silent prayer that, this time, the poor woman would finally be ready to deliver. After thirty-six hours of labor, any soon-to-be mother was beyond ready, mentally and emotionally, but sometimes her body and her baby just wouldn’t cooperate the way everyone wished they would.

“Are you feeling all right?” Hope asked as she washed her hands and snapped on green examination gloves. “Contractions any worse or more frequent?”

“I’m not sure. I just want the baby out. Why can’t you get it out?” Kate asked in a tearful voice.

“I know. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Hope gave Kate’s huge belly a gentle pat. “And you’ve been so tough throughout all these hours. But you’re making good progress, so the doctor and I are pretty positive we can avoid a C-section. Maybe you’re there now, so let’s see.”

“I’m sorry,” Kate said, sniffing back her tears as Hope began an internal exam. “I shouldn’t snap at you like that. Why on earth did you want to become a midwife and have to deal with cranky women like me?”

“First, you’re not cranky, believe me. You’ve been very brave and stoic all this time.” And the truth of that made Hope smile as she thought of the many mums who’d been so far past cranky during labor that there wasn’t a word for it. “I enjoy helping mums through the difficulty of labor and delivery, and on to the joy of getting to hold their newborns for the first time. There’s nothing as beautiful as a baby, is there? That’s exactly why I became a midwife.”

As she said the words the truth of that statement, and the emotion that came with it, closed her throat. Was she really, hopefully, about to have a baby of her very own? What she’d dreamed of when she’d first studied midwifery? When she’d thought she had all the time in the world to establish her career before having children, never imagining she’d still be alone at thirty-four?

“Well, you’ve been great, Hope, helping make all these hours more bearable,” Kate’s husband said. “We really appreciate it.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Hope’s findings from the internal exam sent a huge sigh of relief from her lungs. She gave Kate a big smile she didn’t have to force this time. “Guess what? Great news! You’re there, Kate! Fully dilated at ten centimeters. Baby has decided she’s ready to come into the world.”

Kate kept licking her ice cube, almost as if she hadn’t heard Hope, but her husband practically leaped out of his chair and came to stand by the bed. The poor man had dark circles all around his eyes and was about as disheveled as a person could look, but his beaming smile banished his obvious fatigue.

“You mean the baby’s coming? It’s time?”

“It’s time. I’m putting a heart-rate monitor around your belly, Kate, so we can see how baby is doing during delivery,” Hope said as she strapped it on, praying this final stage went a lot more smoothly and quickly than the previous hours. “We need to get pushing. Can you give me a push next time you feel a contraction? I know you aren’t feeling them as strongly because of your epidural, but tell me when you do.”

“I...I’m having one,” she said, sitting up straighter and looking alert now.

“Then give me a push. That’s it. Well done. Again.” Hope kept giving her gentle encouragement and checking her progress, pleased the fetal monitor showed the baby’s heart rate was normal. Maybe after the long ordeal, this delivery really would be quick and easy. “Wonderful! Nice job.”

Kate moaned and pushed as her husband clutched her hand. “Breathe now, love. Breathe.”

“Yes, Kate,” Hope said. “Take a breath between contractions. Puff, puff, puff. Then during a push, tuck your chin down, hold your breath and give it all you’ve got.”

Kate worked hard, and Hope kept her tone soothing and encouraging, knowing if she exuded a relaxed composure it helped the mother in labor stay composed, too. After only a few more contractions, the top of baby’s head was suddenly there, visible, and Hope sent mum another huge grin. “She’s crowning! Almost here, Kate. Give me a push. You’re doing a great job. Okay, I’ve got her head. One more push now. One more. Yes! You did it!” She wrapped her hands around the baby’s shoulders and helped her slide out into her new world.

Hope’s heart leaped into her throat as she held the slippery infant. No matter how many times she did this, the wonder of it, the miracle, hit her every single time, filling her chest with elation.

“Here she is, Mum! Perfect and beautiful. Congratulations.” She laid the infant on Kate’s chest, letting them marvel over their new little one for just a moment. “You were wonderful, even after being so tired. I’m so proud of you!”

Kate held her baby close, murmuring and cooing, and Hope hated to disturb the sweet moment. “I’m sorry, but I need to take her, as we don’t want her to get chilled. We’ll get her cleaned up and warm, then I promise I’ll have her back to you in a jiffy.”

As she lifted the baby from her mother’s chest and placed her on the cloth her assistant held, Hope saw tears sliding down the new father’s cheeks as he leaned down to kiss his wife.

A pang of something sharp stabbed at Hope’s heart. Regret, maybe, that she’d never experience that? That her own baby, if she was blessed with one soon, wouldn’t have a daddy who wept at its birth and was there as he or she grew up? And all because of Hope’s physical and emotional inadequacies?

She sucked in a calming breath and attended to Kate as the nurse assistant placed the baby in the bassinet beneath the heat lamp. She rubbed her all over until she was clean and rosy, slid a little knit cap onto her tiny head, then swaddled her in blankets. Hope lifted the infant into her arms, pausing for a moment before taking her to her daddy.

Serious blue-gray eyes stared up at her with a frown furrowing her tiny brows, as though she was asking Hope where in the world she was and why she was there. As Hope looked at the tiny, vulnerable new life she pictured her very own baby in her arms. The thought sent a thrill surging through her veins, warring with an icy fear that seemed to freeze her blood at the very same time.

She was close, so close, to that dream if she went through with her plans. But would her own child look to her with those same questions in its eyes? Who am I, and why am I here? Would she be able to answer, You’re here because I love you? Would she be the kind of mother she wanted to be?

She tore her gaze from the precious one staring accusingly at her and took the baby to her parents, placing her gently into her father’s arms.

“Your new daughter. Congratulations again.”

Both stared at their newborn in awe as Hope swiped her cold hands down her scrubs. Terrifying doubt choked her. Would making a baby of her own be the right decision, or would it be a horrible mistake?

She fiercely shook off the sudden and disturbing doubts. She’d wanted a baby forever. Adored babies. Adored children, too. She was running out of time for that dream to come true, and despite her history, despite what her old boyfriend had said, there was no reason on earth to fear that she might not be capable of being the loving mother she so wanted to be.

Prayed she could be. Would be.

“She’s so beautiful.” Kate’s husband looked at his wife. “She looks like you, I think.”

Kate laughed. “Am I that pink and puffy right now? Probably, yes.” She reached to stroke the baby’s cheek, her voice becoming a whisper. “You were an awful lot of effort, but you were worth it, sweetest one.”

She and her husband shared a long, intimate smile, and Hope felt that irritating pang jab her again. What was wrong with her? Why the sudden sadness over not having a man in her life, when she clearly had never wanted one? Why the ridiculous doubt when she’d been happy and confident before?

“Have you picked out a name for her?” Hope asked, busying herself with the final things that needed to be done for Kate post-delivery. Distracting herself with small talk was sure to banish these peculiar and unwelcome feelings swirling around her belly.

“Nine months didn’t seem like long enough to decide,” Kate said with a grin. “But we finally whittled it down to either Emily or Rachel.”

“I’m fond of the more traditional names, and those are both very pretty.”

“Here, love, you hold her for a bit.” Her husband placed the baby in Kate’s arms and stared at the infant with his brows creased. “She’s...she looks like a—”

“Rachel,” they both said simultaneously, then laughed.

“Perfect,” Hope said, her throat absurdly clogging up at this scene that could have come straight from a chick flick. Lord, you’d think she hadn’t delivered hundreds of babies in her career. Or that she’d already received the upcoming hormone injections, with these kinds of silly emotions pinging all over the place.

Probably should buy some stock in a handkerchief company right now. If this kept up, for the next nine months she’d be sobbing all over her patients with every healthy delivery.

“You’re all set now, Kate.” She stripped off her gloves and managed to smile at the giddy new parents. “I’ll be back in a bit to see how you’re doing.”

Hope headed down the hospital corridor to write up her notes on Kate and baby Rachel and glanced at her watch, glad to see her shift was almost over. And for once her Friday night would be filled with something more than just a casual dinner with friends.

Tonight was the big gala fund-raiser organized by one of the hunkiest doctors at Cambridge Royal Hospital. Not only was the man absurdly good-looking, Aaron Cartwright apparently cared about children, too, creating the foundation that promoted adoption in and around Cambridge. Plus, he’d been nice enough to invite several midwives and obstetricians from the hospital to share a few adoption stories their patients had experienced, knowing some financial donors might be interested in hearing them.

Hope had long admired Aaron Cartwright from afar, starting the very first day she’d spotted him in the hospital three years ago, stopping mid-step to do a double take at the man. He might be a man with a bit of a playboy reputation, but who cared? A woman didn’t have to be in the market for a relationship to enjoy looking at a heartthrob.

Tonight she’d finally get to meet the dreamy doc, who half the women in the hospital swooned over. While enjoying champagne and yummy food and dancing, before the start of her new life.

The bounce began to come back to her step as she walked into her office. What could possibly be a more perfect Friday-night distraction to get her mind back on the right track?

* * *

“You’re going to be late if you don’t finish up soon.”

Aaron Cartwright looked up from the pamphlets he’d been grabbing from a drawer outside an exam room to see Sue Calloway frowning at him. Her lips were pursed and her hands held several clothes hangers filled with his tux, shirt, bow tie and cummerbund. “Isn’t organizing my wardrobe outside an office manager’s job description?”

“Nothing’s outside my job description and you know it,” she said. “You’ve been with your patients almost an hour already, and everyone’s going to be wondering where you are.”

“No one will be wondering about me. They’ll all be happily eating and drinking and won’t even notice when I show up.” He gently tapped the top of her head with the brochures. “Don’t worry, though, we’re almost done. This couple is nervous, and need a little more TLC before they’re ready to go home. I’m giving them loads of stuff to read to keep them occupied, even though I already gave them plenty.”

“When is their IVF procedure scheduled?”

“This Tuesday. And now I’m going back in there, unless you want to give me more grief and make me even later.”

“Well, hurry, then,” she said in a testy voice, her twinkling eyes belying her tone. “I’d give you a little shove to get you going if I could, except my arms aren’t free. Don’t keep me standing here holding your finery forever.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he headed back into the room. Not too many other doctors were lucky enough to have someone like Sue to run the office—and his schedule—like a drill sergeant.

The anxious expressions on the couple sitting in the consulting room showed Aaron he hadn’t alleviated their worries. But with the latest advances in fertility techniques and a little luck, the procedure he’d proposed could work for them.

He sat and put on his most reassuring smile, handing them the additional brochures on in vitro fertilization and the newest technique he was recommending. “I understand this has been a stressful and difficult struggle for both of you, but now that we know exactly what’s going on there’s a better than good chance you’ll be able to conceive.”

“How many times have you done this ICSI procedure, Dr. Cartwright?” John Walters asked.

“More times than I can count. And the success rate of ICSI is a solid ninety percent. In fact, my success rate has been even higher than that, if I can toot my own horn a little.” He smiled again. “As I told you before, I’m a big believer in this procedure. Under circumstances like yours, it’s much better than the shotgun approach of traditional IVF.”

John’s lips were pressed into a grim line, and Aaron reached to squeeze his shoulder. Infertility issues were hard on everyone, but many men had a more difficult time dealing with it when it was due to their physical issues, as opposed to their wives’. As though it made someone less of a man, which of course it didn’t. There were all too many men who made babies only to abandon them, and plenty of others who were donors but in no way could be considered fathers. Whose children would never know where they came from.

“I know you said you will only implant two eggs, but I still think we should implant more than that,” Angela said, clutching her husband’s hand. “I mean, it gives us a better chance of having one take, right? And if we ended up having multiple babies, we’d be more than happy about that.”

“You think now that you would, but multiples are harder on the mother’s body. More likely to lead to preterm birth with complications resulting from that, as well as serious birth defects. Not to mention that caring for triplets or quads can be harder than anyone imagines.”

Harder than his own biological mother ever imagined. Even harder on her children, ending with tough consequences for all of them.

“I know, but still. I feel like this could be our last chance. So why not, when we’re ready to accept whatever happens?”

The dormant emotion that occasionally surged to the surface and threatened his cool at times like this always took him by surprise. It had all happened so long ago, so why? Maybe he was like a sapling that had seeded next to barbed wire. He’d still managed to grow strong, absorbing it inside until it was invisible, but the sharp pain could still deeply stab when he least expected it.

He drew a long breath, battling to keep his voice calm. Firm and authoritative without verging on dictatorial. But he believed it was an important part of his job, a critical part, to help patients make responsible decisions, no matter how desperate they were for a baby.

“I appreciate that this has been a long and difficult process for both of you, Angela. And as I said before, if you want to work with another specialist who feels differently than I do on this subject, I will completely understand if you prefer to do that. You wouldn’t have to start all over again—there are several doctors in this hospital I can refer you to, giving them your history and information on the meds you’ve been taking. I would guess someone else would be available to do the ICSI procedure soon.”

“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Everyone has told us you’re the best at the ICSI procedure, Dr. Cartwright. I’m just...I’m worried that with only two eggs, none will take.”

“And I’m not going to deny that that’s possible, but we can try again, remember? One healthy, full-term baby, two at the most, is the goal.”

“Yes. A healthy baby is all we want.” She gave her husband a tremulous smile. “How long is nine months from next week? I better make sure everything’s ready.”

“Early August. A good birthday month, since it’s yours, too.” The return smile he gave her was strained. “Though everything’s been ready for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“A long time.”

Her voice quavered, and tears filled her eyes. Aaron handed her a tissue he pulled from the box he always kept next to him. The pain and depression, grief and failure that couples struggling with fertility problems felt was often profound. He’d do the best he could to help these two people have the baby they longed for.

And pray they’d be mentally and emotionally prepared for that baby when it came.

He resolutely shoved down the old, faded memories that for some damn reason insisted on resurfacing today and refocused on his patients. He was pretty confident that the ICSI procedure would work for them. That he wouldn’t need to nudge them to think about adoption, the way he did with couples unable to conceive even after medical science had tried everything.

Adoption. The word reminded him that Sue was waiting with his tux, and that, even though he was sure nobody would be worrying about his late arrival, he did want to speak earlier at the adoption fund-raiser he’d organized, rather than later. People loved seeing his slide presentation that showed foster kids becoming a permanent part of happy families, and were even more generous with their donations to plump the foundation’s coffers.

Aaron resisted the urge to glance at his watch. As he’d told Sue, he’d never cut short a meeting with any patient for any reason. Every one of them deserved to be able to ask as many questions as they needed to feel comfortable prior to any procedure. Questions he always answered honestly, even it if was an opinion patients weren’t always ready to hear.

“Thanks so much, Dr. Cartwright.” John stood and shook Aaron’s hand, he and his wife now smiling real smiles. “We’ll see you next week for the big day.”

“Which will hopefully result in an even bigger day next August,” Angela said.

“See you Tuesday morning at eight-thirty.” Aaron opened his office door, and as soon as the patients began walking down the short hall to the office exit Sue appeared again.

“Better get spiffed up fast. You might think none of the highbrow folks at your fund-raiser will wonder why dynamic fertility expert and adoption advocate Dr. Aaron Cartwright is the last to arrive, but I know you want plenty of time to pass the hat. Expert though you are at squeezing cash from the most miserly turnip.”

“Is that a criticism or a compliment?” He had to laugh, at the same time hoping it was true, since every donation helped. “I appreciate you sticking around and getting everything ready. So have you changed your mind about attending?”

“Too rich for my blood at three hundred quid a ticket. Six hundred if I bring Paul.”

“You know you’re both on my guest list. You just like to play the poor, hard-working office manager who isn’t paid enough to look after me.”

She grinned at him. “And how do you know me so well after only three years?”

“Maybe because those exact words come out of your mouth almost daily.” He grinned back. “Come on. Grab a dress and your husband and come have fun. You handled all the details for the thing practically single-handedly. Thanks to you, the band and the food will be great. Besides, you can keep me out of trouble.”

“Another job that’s too hard.” Her eyes twinkled as she patted his arm. “Thanks for putting me on the guest list. And the OBs and midwives who have adoption stories to share, too—that’s so smart of you. But Paul doesn’t enjoy things like that, and I don’t want to go without him. I’m sure it’ll be a huge success just like last year, though. I hope you get lots of new donors and enjoy yourself.”