counted on his support.
“It’s Vince Adams,” she said. “No, don’t answer. I realize you can’t confirm it.”
Lucky stacked the chairs to one side. “Are you still mad at me for inviting Betsy? Is that why you’re harassing me?”
Zora tried to hug her knees, but her bulge was in the way. “I’m glad you invited her.”
“So we’re good?” His fierce brown eyes raked over her.
“No. What if you leave?” she burst out, surprised by her rush of emotion. “We’re having enough trouble finding one roommate, let alone two. We’ll have to take Laird.”
A knot in her chest warned that she was less concerned about Laird than she was about Lucky staying until the babies were born. Until Andrew hopefully came to his senses and fell in love with his children. Until hell freezes over. No, but if hell did freeze over, she’d counted on Lucky to be there with a warming blanket.
As a friend, of course. He’d been just as helpful to Anya—maybe more so—when they’d moved into this house. It was in his nature.
Lucky stopped fiddling around. “You shouldn’t upset yourself. It might shoot up your blood pressure.”
“Then talk to me.”
He plopped his butt on the arm of the couch. “About what?”
“You’ve been delving into your phone all afternoon, trying to find a solution, right? But if Dr. Rattigan can’t fix Vince—I mean, Patient X—neither can you.”
“So?” Lucky folded his arms. They were muscular arms, and he folded them across a broad, powerful chest. Too bad the movement also flexed the shapely legs of a cartoon woman, which rather spoiled the effect for Zora.
“We have to figure out another way to keep the Adamses involved with Safe Harbor,” she blurted.
“We?” Lucky was addicted to monosyllables today.
She’d surprised herself by saying that. But didn’t she owe Lucky a favor, considering how much support he’d given her?
“Yes, we,” Zora retorted, and, to cut off any argument, she added, “Some people have a ridiculously hard time accepting help, to quote a person I know.”
That produced a tight smile. “What do you imagine you, or we, can do regarding this alleged situation?”
“I have an idea.” Fortunately, a possibility had hit her. “I’ll share it on one condition.” She might as well benefit from this.
“Which is?”
“You stop nagging me about my personal choices, however stupid you may consider them.”
Lucky didn’t answer. Then, abruptly, he burst out laughing. “Sometimes I actually like you.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because you’re a tough little cookie. If only you would apply that quality to he-who-shall-remain-nameless.”
“That’s breaking the rules,” Zora retorted. “No nagging and no smart-aleck remarks, either. Well?”
“You’re draining all the fun out of our relationship.” Lucky raised his hands in mock surrender. “I agree. Now, what’s the suggestion?”
The sight of him leaning close, intent on her, sent a thrill across her nervous system. Must be the maternal hormones running amok. “Remember when Edmond gave that speech about trends in family law?”
Melissa’s husband served as a consultant for staff and patients on the legal aspects of fertility issues.
“Sure.” Another one-syllable response.
“Afterward, Vince approached him for advice.” Zora had heard the story from Melissa. Quickly, she added, “It was in a public place. No attorney-client privilege.”
“Advice about what?”
“About persuading Mrs. Adams to agree to in vitro.” If Vince produced even a small amount of sperm, it could be extracted and injected into an egg, bypassing the need to fix his blocked ducts. “She refuses to undergo in vitro, however.”
“He can afford to hire a surrogate,” Lucky pointed out.
“He objects to bringing in a stranger while his wife is presumably still fertile.” Although Zora detested Portia for Rod’s sake, she understood why a woman approaching forty wouldn’t be eager to undergo a process involving hormone shots as well as uncomfortable procedures to harvest her eggs and implant the embryos. There were also potential health risks from a pregnancy complicated by multiple babies.
“What does this have to do with us?” Lucky asked.
“Talking to Edmond renewed Vince’s enthusiasm for Safe Harbor.” According to Melissa, the hospital administrator had phoned later to congratulate Edmond on saving the day.
“Renewed his enthusiasm how?” Lucky persisted. “His wife still hasn’t agreed, as far as I know.”
“I’m not sure, but judging by what Rod says about him, he enjoys power trips,” Zora observed. “He hates to lose. If we figure out how he can win in this situation, it might keep him engaged with Safe Harbor.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Ask Edmond what he advised.”
Lucky considered this in silence. At close range, Zora noticed an end-of-day dark beard shadowing his rough cheeks. Although she preferred men with a smooth, sophisticated look, she had to admit there was something appealing about Lucky’s male hormones proclaiming themselves loud and clear.
What was wrong with her? At this stage of pregnancy, she ought to have zero interest in sex. Or men. Or sexy men. Or... Stop that.
“Any idea which days Edmond’s at the hospital?” Lucky asked.
“Afraid not.”
In the adjacent dining room, Karen rose after stowing a tray in the sideboard. “Monday mornings and Thursday afternoons. Why the interest in Edmond?”
“It’s private,” Zora and Lucky said simultaneously.
Descending the few steps to the living room, their landlady gathered the pile of chair covers. “That’s unusual, you guys being on the same page.”
They both returned her gaze wordlessly until she sighed and departed. Zora chuckled. That had been fun.
Lucky held out his hand. As her fingers brushed his, a quiver of pleasure ran through her. On her feet, she lingered close to him for a moment, enjoying the citrus smell of his cologne underscored by masculine pheromones. Then in the recesses of her mind, she remembered something he often said: it’s Andrew who should be helping you, not me.
Even without speaking, he projected criticism. Glowering, and ignoring Lucky’s puzzled reaction, Zora headed for the stair lift.
On Monday mornings while Cole performed surgeries at the hospital, Lucky replenished supplies, scheduled follow-up appointments with patients and prepared for office procedures in the afternoon.
He’d hoped to slip out to talk to Edmond, but the attorney was fully booked and could only spare a few minutes at lunch. It would have to do. But the morning turned out to be busier than expected, due to a special request from the fertility program director, Dr. Owen Tartikoff. A new urologist, a specialist in men’s reconstructive surgery, would soon be joining the staff and Dr. Tartikoff needed someone to review the applications for his office nurse. Due to Lucky’s administrative degree, Cole had recommended him.
Pleased at the responsibility, Lucky sifted through digital résumés to