Smiling, Dr. Brayfield nodded. “I understand. If last night was the first relations you’ve had without using any type of preventive, there’s no need to do a pregnancy test. The results wouldn’t be as accurate as they will be in a week or two.” He wrote something in the chart. “Now, what did your physician prescribe for your sinus infection, Mrs. Warren?”
Kristen gave Chance a warning look he was sure was meant to silence him, then told the doctor the name of the medication and her symptoms. “I’ve had this problem before,” she added. “Sometimes the infection settles in my inner ear and causes dizziness.”
“Is this the first time you’ve taken this prescription?” When she nodded, the doctor continued, “How long have you been on it?”
“Today will be the fourth day.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Would drinking wine with this cause any kind of side effects?”
The doctor nodded. “Drinking any kind of alcohol with medication can cause side effects. Some serious, some less so. With this particular prescription there’s a possibility of memory lapses and uncharacteristic behavior.” He turned to Chance. “Have you noticed her acting differently than usual?”
Before Chance could answer, Kristen spoke up. “Yes. I married him last night. That was completely out of character for me.”
Apparently the doctor thought Kristen was joking because he chuckled and took an instrument from the wall. He shone the tiny light into her ears, then looked at her throat. “Mmm.” He jotted a note on the chart, then handed her some sample bottles of capsules. “I’m going to change the medication you’re on. This should clear up both the sinus and inner ear problems within a few days.”
“Is this safe in case she’s pregnant?” Chance asked pointedly.
Dr. Brayfield nodded. “This is much safer and has fewer side effects.” His grin wide, he winked. “No more accidental marriages.”
“I’m glad I insisted on your seeing a doctor,” Chance said, pulling his truck from the clinic parking lot. “You might have passed out when I wasn’t around and hurt yourself or the baby.”
Kristen glared at him. “Will you stop talking as if it’s a fait accompli? All we know for sure is that I have an ear infection. We don’t know if I’m pregnant.”
“We don’t know that you aren’t, sweetheart,” he said, shrugging. He grinned, and his face went from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous. “If passion and desire have anything to do with it, I’d say we have a bun in the oven for sure.”
She supposed she should be upset that he insisted on calling her “sweetheart.” But she wasn’t going to ask him to stop. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow when Chance used the endearment, it just felt…right.
Trying to turn her attention to something other than the man beside her, she focused on his “bun” comment. Most of her friends would have considered it crude, a remark best left to the lower social circles. But coming from Chance, it made her want to put on a baker’s hat and…
Shaking her head to dislodge the erotic thought before it took hold, she remembered he hadn’t listened to her objections over seeing a doctor. It appeared that Chance had a lot in common with Mike. He never listened to her, either.
Kristen stared out the truck window at the barren landscape of the Las Vegas outskirts. What would Mike do when he found out she’d married Chance? Would she be disowned?
The thought of his disapproval caused an instant sadness.
She—Mike’s only child—had turned out to be a girl instead of the son he’d wanted. That had been the first time Kristen had disappointed him. Then, in the last twenty-seven years, she’d never seemed to measure up, never been able to do anything to win his acceptance and love.
Now, with the mess she’d gotten herself into last night, she feared she’d never see an expression of approval on Mike’s face. Not for her, not for anything she accomplished. Unexpectedly, her breath caught on a soft sob.
“What’s wrong, Kristen?”
His big hand covered hers where it rested in her lap. “Don’t worry.” He twined their fingers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get through this together. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”
Kristen swallowed hard. Why did her insides turn to melted butter every time he spoke in that soft, sexy drawl?
“I guess I’m just a little tired,” she lied. She wasn’t about to try explaining something she didn’t understand herself. “I’ll be fine.”
Chance turned her hand loose to reach down and release the catch on her seat belt. “Why don’t you move over here to the middle of the seat and rest your head on my shoulder? You look like you could use some sleep.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You aren’t feeling well, Kristen.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “We have a long way to go. Maybe if you take a nap you’ll feel better.”
It might have been his softly spoken words, or the feel of his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t be sure. But she suddenly felt drained of all energy.
“Maybe for just a few minutes.”
When she scooted over and secured the center seat belt, Chance put his arm around her. She placed her head against his shoulder and it pleased the hell out of him. It shouldn’t have. But it did. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax and try to rest.”
Seconds after closing her eyes, her breathing became shallow, signaling that she’d fallen asleep.
Chance set the cruise control and adjusted the position of the steering wheel down to a more comfortable angle. He draped his left wrist over the top, then settled back for the long drive ahead. He had a lot to think about and several hundred miles to get it all sorted out.
Although Kristen hadn’t exactly warmed up to him, he’d noticed a vulnerability about her in the hotel room once she’d regained consciousness. There had been an uncertainty in her demeanor that he never in a million years would have associated with the ice maiden. She’d turned pale as a ghost when he’d mentioned sending those reports to her father.
A bull of a man, Mike Lassiter wore his expensive western-cut suits with a style and grace that belied his considerable size. But that hadn’t been what made a lasting impression on Chance. It had been the open hostility Lassiter displayed on the few occasions they’d been around each other. Chance couldn’t remember ever having talked to the man. But for some reason, each time he caught Lassiter staring at him, the man’s eyes had been filled with intense loathing.
Chance absently stroked Kristen’s silky auburn hair with his right hand. From the look of fear she’d displayed at the thought of going back to Dallas to face her father, Chance figured the rumors about Lassiter had to be right on the money. Over the years, Chance had heard plenty about Mike Lassiter and his demands of perfection; how he made it impossible for anyone to ever live up to his expectations. It was even rumored the man’s late wife had died from being so unhappy.
Chance glanced down at his own sleeping wife. How could any man intentionally create the apprehension in a woman that he’d
