Holding Out for Doctor Perfect. Teresa Southwick
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he recognized from Mercy Medical Center sat in chairs set up on the patio beside the pool. Nick and Ryleigh had no extended family as far as he knew. Unlike himself, Spencer suspected they were blissfully unaware of how a family could complicate events like this in one’s life.
“Do you have the rings?” Nick nervously brushed a hand over his dark, wavy hair.
Spencer felt for the jeweler’s box in the pocket of his suit slacks. He faked an omigod expression when he asked, “Was I supposed to bring them?”
“Nice try, Stone. Even if you weren’t kidding, nothing could rattle me today.”
“Why?” Spencer was curious because he’d be sweating bullets if he was in Nick’s shoes.
“Because no matter what happens, regardless of any technical glitches, Ryleigh is going to be my wife. Again.”
“You’re not worried that it won’t work out?”
“Been there, done that,” Nick said, blue eyes going intense for a moment. “I screwed up letting her walk out of my life once. It won’t happen again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be keeping me calm? Questions like that could send a nervous groom sprinting for the nearest exit.”
“That’s the thing.” Spencer shook his head in amazement. “You’re rock solid. This is a life-altering move. I’ve seen you in the E.R. working on a kid with constricted airways and struggling for the next breath and you were nothing but nerves of steel. It’s creeping me out that you’re even more cool now. This is huge, man.”
“And it’s right.”
“But how do you know?” Spencer insisted.
“I just do. When you know, you know.” Nick gave him a warning look. “Don’t ask.”
Before Spencer could ignore the warning and ask anyway, the sliding glass door into the family room opened and Reverend White, the hospital chaplain, walked outside. He was a fit man, about sixty years old with a full, thick head of gray hair. Warm brown eyes surveyed the gathering.
“Ladies and gentlemen we’re about to begin. If you’ll all please rise to greet the bride.”
As the chaplain moved up the aisle created by the two groups of separated chairs, everyone stood up. Moments later Avery walked out of the house. She was carrying a bouquet of lavender roses that matched the color of her dress. The full, swirly, sexy silky hem stopped at her knees and the high, matching pumps made her legs look a lot longer than he knew they were.
For just a second he’d have sworn his heart actually stopped. Not a comfortable feeling for a cardiotheracic surgeon, or any guy for that matter.
Then Ryleigh, holding a single white rose, appeared behind her maid of honor. In a floor-length flowing strapless gown she looked gorgeous and radiant, just as cool and collected as her groom. Spencer glanced at Nick’s face and knew his friend was going through the heart-stopping sensation. He didn’t even want to know why he knew that.
Avery stopped, took her place across from him, and for just a moment their eyes met. Probably it was just the spirit of the occasion, but for once she didn’t look like she wanted to choke him.
Speaking of necks, hers drew his full attention in a big way. More specifically the see-through lavender material that covered her arms and the expanse of chest just above her small breasts. There were no visible bra straps, which made him far too curious about the lingerie under her dress, or lack thereof. Technically the skin wasn’t bare, but for the life of him he could not understand why that was about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
Then Spencer snapped out of it when Nick moved and held his arm out to his bride. Ryleigh slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, smiling with the same serene certainty her groom had demonstrated. Behind them everyone sat down again.
The reverend opened the book in his hands, then looked out at the guests. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
“I give myself to Nick, freely and with love.”
“I give myself to Ryleigh and our child, freely and with love.” Nick put his palm on her stomach and the intensity of the feelings behind the words was there in his eyes.
Spencer knew the personal and profound promises following this public declaration had been written by Nick and Ryleigh. But it was the look on their faces that struck him. They only had eyes for each other. Then the reverend was asking for the rings, which he handed over, after a wink to his friend.
Nick kissed his bride while the guests cheered and clapped. At this point in the festivities it was time for bride and groom, best man and maid of honor to sign the wedding license and take a few minutes for private congratulations. Spencer held out his arm to escort Avery, who almost hid her hesitation. But she put her hand in the crook of his elbow and they walked into the house.
Spencer Stone was normally attracted to tall women with legs that went on forever. Blond, blue-eyed little bits of nothing who looked out of a fairy tale—even if they didn’t act that way—were not his cup of tea. But there was something about Avery O’Neill that unsettled him, maybe because she’d told him no. But that didn’t explain why the scent of her skin slipped inside him and made his head spin like a centrifuge. At least he hid it better than Avery did her aversion to him.
After the legalities were squared away, the four of them gathered around the coffee table where two silver buckets of ice held a bottle of champagne and apple cider—in deference to the bride’s delicate condition.
She held up her flute with the nonalcoholic drink. “You two are welcome to have something stronger. Nick said if I couldn’t drink champagne he wouldn’t, either.”
He slid his arm around his new bride and pulled her close. “In the spirit of solidarity. We’re pregnant.”
Avery laughed. “You’ll be singing a different tune when her ankles swell up.”
“If I could share that, I would,” he declared, laughter in his eyes.
“Right,” Avery and Spencer said together.
He met her astonished gaze, then cleared his throat. “As best man it’s my honor to make a toast to the happy couple.”
“Please,” Ryleigh said.
“First of all, congratulations. To my friend, Nick, health and happiness.” He clinked his glass to the groom’s. “And Ryleigh. You look happier than I’ve ever seen you and more beautiful. All brides should be pregnant.”
Spencer glanced at Avery and saw a frown in her eyes for just a fraction of a second. So quick he wondered if he’d imagined it. Except he’d been on the receiving end of numerous O’Neill frowns and knew he wasn’t mistaken. She’d looked the same way during the ceremony, when Nick and Ryleigh pledged their love to each other and their child. That wasn’t a frown-worthy moment. Which made it another in a growing list of questions about the mysterious, yet intriguing Miss Avery O’Neill.
“Thank you, Spencer. That was lovely.” Ryleigh picked up the single white rose she’d held during the ceremony and handed it to her maid of honor.
Avery looked surprised as she took the flower. “You’re giving this to me?”
“Yes. It’s simple, beautiful and pure. A symbol of my love for Nick. Traditionally whoever catches the bridal bouquet will be the next to get married, but I didn’t want a bouquet.”
“Good, because I don’t want to get married.” But she held the rose to her nose and breathed in the fragrance.
“This represents nothing more than my hope that you’ll find a love as enduring and perfect as Nick’s and mine.”
“Thank you.” Avery’s voice trembled with emotion just before she leaned over and hugged her friend.
“Okay,