Rachel And The M.d.. Donna Clayton
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sad memories of their mother and what she and they were missing. No, this should be a joyful time for them.
“I was just thinking how happy I am that you asked me to go with you.” She grinned at them. “I’d love to chaperone the party.”
“Great!” Sydney said. “Now maybe Dad will let us stay out later than twelve-thirty.”
Ah, Rachel thought, so the curfew had been what motivated them to invite her along. Leave it to practical, outspoken Sydney to burst Rachel’s heartwarming fantasy of playing mommy.
But Rachel didn’t feel hurt. She smiled, catching the eye of each one of them. The girls had no idea of the depth of her love for them, she was certain. She might not be their mother, she might not have given birth to them, but she sure did love them bunches and bunches. Like any mother loved her children.
Scooping up another spoonful of ice cream slathered with fudge sauce, Rachel said, “I can’t promise you that your curfew will be any later. But I can promise you that I’ll be at that party. With bells on!”
Sydney, Sophie and Sasha looked satisfied. Almost too satisfied.
Sloan looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was feeling pretty awkward about the New Year’s Eve party he was about to chaperone for his daughters.
On the one hand, his heart felt all warm and mushy from his having been asked to attend. His emotions might have been categorized as something less than masculine by any male who wasn’t a father. But he was sure dads all over the world would understand perfectly what he was going through. When the girls had approached him about chaperoning, their eyes had looked everywhere but at him, and their voices had been hesitant. They’d been as cute as little ladybugs. There had been no way he could have refused them.
But on the other hand, he’d be lying if he said he was really looking forward to this event.
His daughters would be laughing and gossiping, as girls their age were wont to do. However, they’d also be interacting with their friends. With boys. That idea just didn’t sit well with him.
He wasn’t a total idiot. He knew his girls had to grow up. But did they have to do it now?
Couldn’t they wait? Like…a dozen or so years? Maybe then he’d be ready for this stage in their lives. As it was now, he wasn’t prepared at all.
Then another question floated through his brain: was any father ever ready for his little girls to grow up? He seriously doubted it.
Scowling at his image in the mirror, he murmured, “Growing up, indeed.”
His daughters were only twelve. They were too young for parties that would keep them out after their curfew. They were too young to be dancing with boys. Flirting with boys. Kissing boys—
He snapped off the thought as surely and as thoroughly as if it had been a lightbulb. He didn’t mind plunging his brain into total darkness. Anything was better than continuing along this line of panic-inducing ponderings. If he didn’t shut these thoughts down, he’d change his mind altogether and make Sydney, Sasha and Sophie ring in the New Year right here at home. And they’d never forgive him for that. Never.
So…how bad could the evening be? he wondered. He would be present at the party to watch all the goings-on. And when it came to his girls, he had the eye of an eagle.
The doorbell rang and Sloan grumbled under his breath. His daughters had probably offered one of their friends a lift to the party and had forgotten to tell him about it. He didn’t mind. He only wished they would keep him apprised of the plans they made, then revamped, then revised yet again.
“Girls,” he called down the hallway toward their rooms, “I’m going down to answer the door. You’d better hurry it up. It’ll be time to go soon.”
Sounds of frantic scrambling and panicked shrieks made him smile. One thing about his daughters, they could have five full hours to get themselves ready, and still they’d need more time.
He was still chuckling when he reached the front door and pulled it open. The sight he beheld made the grin on his face freeze as if his mouth had suddenly turned to solid concrete.
It was…it was…
Rachel smiled a silent greeting, stepped inside, closed the door behind her and then let her dress coat slide from her shoulders.
Thoughts refused to form coherently. Hell, they refused to form at all. It was as if his brain had completely shut down.
He took a deep breath. Forced himself to swallow. And blink, once, then again.
She looked too stunning for words.
Her flame-red hair—usually tamed by some sort of elastic band or hair clip when she was at the office—was wild about her shoulders, making for a very sultry look. This new do made her normally pale skin glow and look more delicate, more beautiful than he’d ever seen it.
At work, Rachel looked like any typical woman. However, tonight she’d done something to accentuate her brown eyes. He’d never realized before that her irises were flecked with a warm gold color that reminded him of heated honey. And her mouth. The bow was…utterly perfect. And he’d never seen her full bottom lip glisten so. The effect was…overwhelmingly kissable.
His mouth went dry at the thought, and he knew he should be ashamed of himself. But his mind was too busy with other things to take the time to do any silent berating.
Her black cocktail dress was shot through with silver threads, the fabric following the contours of her slender body. His gaze seemed to have a mind of its own as it roved down the length of her, over the swell of her breasts, the curve of her tiny waist that flowed right on down into flared hips.
An hourglass. She was a soft, luscious hourglass.
He choked as the startling thought lodged in his throat like some inhaled morsel of food.
Immediately, Rachel was clapping him on the back.
“You okay?” she asked, following him as he retreated into the living room.
If the truth were known, he was trying to flee. From what, he had no clue. But she stuck with him, following on those long, black-stocking-clad legs. She raised graceful, milky arms, and with her petite hands began slapping him soundly between the shoulder blades.
Aren’t you cold? he wanted to ask. Didn’t she know it was winter? Where were the sleeves of her dress? He’d never seen Rachel display so much…skin.
He worked with her in the office every single weekday. However, it was office policy that the employees wore colorful smocks over their attire. The nurses and office staff had a different color smock for every day of the week. He’d never realized just how shapeless those uniforms were. Before this moment, he’d never even realized that Rachel had a body.
Well, of course he’d known she’d had a body. He was a doctor, for goodness sake. But he never realized what a body she had!
Oh, hell.
Get a grip, he silently commanded himself. What on earth was the matter with him?
He needed to put a bit of space between them, that was all. He’d anticipated opening the door to one of his daughters’ friends. He hadn’t expected to see Rachel standing there at all. Her appearance had startled him.
Startled him? She’d shocked clear thinking right out of his brain. Like a solid whack with a sledgehammer right between the eyeballs.
“I’m fine,” he told her, ducking to the left. “I’m okay.”
As soon as he spoke, she stopped, and he continued on several paces just to give himself a little distance. Once he reached the couch, he paused to catch his breath, gather his wits. Only then did he turn to face her.
“You sure you’re okay?”
The concern in her golden-bronze gaze affected him mightily. Usually, her interest was