Page 169 of Forgot to Tell You Something

Tally

“You’re going to be late,” I murmur, giving Owen a half-hearted shove.

“I don’t care.” He presses kisses along my neck, hitting the spot that makes me squirm. The man has been attached to me since he arrived home last night, not that I’m complaining.

I didn’t even manage a hello before he swept me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom, but we managed our own variety of conversation in the ensuing hours.

“What will we tell the hospital when you don’t arrive to round on your patients?”

Owen smiles down at me, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’ll blame Jessop.”

“How good of you, throwing your friends under the bus in such a manner.” I’m joking, but the grin slides from Owen’s face and his features cloud. I’ve hit a sore spot. “Are you okay?”

After a few silent seconds, he smiles, shaking off the doldrums. “Just jet-lagged.”

“Likely tired from all the fawning and adoration in San Francisco. How did it go?”

“As well as expected,” he mumbles, pushing himself out of the bed. “Come and take a shower a with me.”

“No way. You always hog the hot water.”

“You can have it all. I want you near me.”

There’s a strange vibe emanating from Owen, but I can’t pinpoint the cause. He hasn’t mentioned his spur-of-the-moment phone proposal, and I’m sure as hell not going to broach it before he does. To be fair, we haven’t done much talking—unless moans of ecstasy count.

Then there are those persistent phone calls from Regent Hospital in Asheville. I’m sure Owen does field offers from around the country, but they seem to bereturninghis calls.

What does this man have planned?

I pad into the shower after him, basking in the attention he lavishes over my body. Thankfully, my second trimester is far easier than the first, except for my insatiable sexual appetite. Who am I kidding? I’m always voracious around Owen.

Owen’s pager sounds, bouncing off the tiled walls. “Back to reality,” he groans, pressing his mouth against mine before exiting the shower. “I’m needed for an emergent case.”

I poke my head out of the shower. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

* * *

Irun my hands along the front of my dress, my baby bump now obvious under the satin. Hey, when you’re as short as I am, there’s not much extra space for a baby to hitch a ride. At least this is the last time I’ll have to pour myself into an evening gown. I’ve had enough mingling with millionaires to last me an eternity. But tonight is for Owen, and that man is worth any inconvenience. Forcing a smile, I wave at Jessop, before entering the private room at the country club.

Figures Charlotte would spare no expense. The ironic part is that she could have funded the damn training center herself with all the monies spent on entertaining the absurdly wealthy.

Weaving my way to a back table, I settle in for the dog and pony show, glimpsing Owen across the room. I wish I fit in better with this world. Owen, despite his arguments otherwise, makes it look effortless. He’s as comfortable sporting a tux as he is Dr. Martens, or at least that’s the front he presents.

Meanwhile, I resemble a scullery maid who stole the lady of the house’s dress, but no amount of satin will allow me to blend into the fold.

“Why are you hiding in the back?” Jessop inquires, dropping a kiss on my cheek. “You look stunning, Lu.”

“I look fat, Ken,” I retort.

“You look pregnant, but pregnant women are sexy. Just ask Owen. He can’t take his eyes off you.”

I blush, but when I glance up, I’m transfixed by Owen’s gray gaze as he strolls in my direction.

“I was wondering when you were getting here,” Owen murmurs, pressing a kiss to my mouth. “You are gorgeous.”

“I am popping out of this dress,” I respond with a laugh. Hey, my boobs are enormous at this point.

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