Cherished Beginnings by Pamela Browning Read Free Book Online

then. I play tennis with Scott occasionally when he's looking for someone he can beat without too much trouble." Now that she'd told him who her sister was, he could see her resemblance to Kathleen, although they were two different types. Kathleen was the glossy one, ajangle with jewelry and the latest fashions. He'd always thought she was pretty. But Maura was thoughtful and tranquil and intelligent and above all completely natural, and he thought she was beautiful.
    "Do you play tennis?" he asked hopefully.
    She shook her head, her hair rippling across her shoulders in a fascinating show. "Seldom," she said. She wasn't going to let him maneuver her into a dating situation, no matter how casual. There wasn't space for that in her life right now. She needed time to figure out just where men fit into it—if they fit at all.
    "Well, we'll have to remedy that," he said, crinkling his eyes coaxingly. "How about a doubles match with Kathleen and Scott some evening?"
    "Sorry, but tennis isn't on my list of priorities."
    Xan was taken aback by her refusal. He wasn't used to being turned down by women. "Well," he said, realizing he was up against something new, "what are your priorities?" His eyes, richly green now, were suddenly intent.
    This intensity caught her attention, and his receptiveness warmed her and made her want to confide in him. Birthing Annie's baby had opened a floodgate of emotion for her. It had been too long since she'd felt the joy of a tiny body settling into her hands and thrilled to that welcome first cry of a newborn. Xan was a doctor, yes, but he had also proved himself to be extraordinarily caring and interested. She thought he'd understand.
    She drew a deep breath. "My first priority at the moment is setting up my own practice in midwifery, right here in Shuffletown," she said. Her eyes sparkled with more than happiness. They reflected compassion from a wellspring of love deep within her. Not carnal love, but the other kind, a sort of radiant goodness. Xan felt more attracted to her than ever, and yet, conversely, he was caught up in a backwash of dismay. Her own practice! As an obstetrician, he didn't want to believe it.
    He forced himself to keep his face blank. "Tell me about it," he said, knowing with an appalling certainty that the more he heard, the less he'd like it.
    Her words tumbled over one another like the flow of a freshening brook. "I want to start my own clinic for expectant mothers, a place where they can learn good nutrition and exercise. And then I'll be able to attend them in their own homes when they give birth, too. You know, Xan, I think I've found the place where I'm really needed and can use my skills in midwifery to make a difference in people's lives."
    Xan managed through sheer willpower to keep his expression neutral. She didn't know, couldn't know, but every word she uttered hit him in the gut, and hard.
    "I'm hoping to find an able assistant to train to be a midwife," Maura went on, warming to her subject but oblivious to Xan's pain. "An R.N., if possible. Someone local would be ideal. We'll train other people, too, and we'll—"
    At that point Xan tuned her out. The whole time she was talking, all he could think about was how in the world he was going to tell her that as an obstetrician he regarded her attempts to set up a Shuffletown practice in midwifery as sheer effrontery, not to mention detrimental to the public good. And that despite her high-flying notions, she'd better find some place other than Shuffletown to practice.
    The fried chicken arrived along with fresh biscuits and gravy, and she devoured the food eagerly. Further thought was impossible for Xan. She'd dashed his hopes about them as a couple, threatened his livelihood, and brought unwelcome competition for the Quinby Hospital, all in one fell swoop. It was all he could do to nibble on one skinny chicken leg, and the biscuits dried in his mouth like so much dust.
    "So what do you think?" she finally asked