Rachel And The M.d.. Donna Clayton

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СКАЧАТЬ made the idea of premature departure sound like some sort of disfiguring disease. He wanted to point out just what kind of attention twelve-year-olds wearing revealing dresses and red lipstick would attract, but he chomped down firmly on his tongue and kept the thoughts to himself.

      Sophie quietly pointed out. “Dad, Debbie’s mother rented a hall.”

      Sloan shrugged. “I don’t care if Debbie’s mother rented Veterans’ Stadium. My daughters will not be out until the wee hours of the morning. You girls are twelve years old—”

      Sydney’s chin rose, as did her voice, when she pointed out, “But I’ll be thirteen in three weeks.”

      “Me, too,” Sasha said.

      Through her tight jaw, Sophie added, “Me, three.”

      This was their motto. Their united credo.

      Rebellion glinted in their gazes now, bold and unmistakable.

      Holding his ground, Sloan refused to be intimidated. “I don’t care if you’re going to be thirty-five. No daughter of mine is going to be out gallivanting in the middle of the night. You can celebrate the New Year, and I’ll be picking you up at twelve-thirty. And that’s final.”

      Sasha’s bottom lip began to tremble, piteous tears welling in her big brown eyes.

      “But Debbie’s mom is serving breakfast at one,” Sydney informed him. “And she’s making my favorite. Pancakes.”

      “I’ll be happy to make pancakes just as soon as we get home from the party,” Sloan offered. But his words were firm, uncontestable.

      The air grew tense and thick, and Sloan got the strange sense that something awful was about to happen.

      Fate didn’t disappoint him.

      Sophie—the quietest of his daughters—straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. She looked her father directly in the eye and proclaimed, “Well, I’m staying until the end of the party. I’m not going to let you ruin my first date with Bobby Snyders.”

      Date? Had his little girl just said she had a date? With a boy?

      Rachel Richards loved her job. She managed the medical practice of partners Sloan Radcliff, Travis Westcott and Greg Hamilton. The three men were more than doctors sharing a practice, they were friends who supported one another. Since she had no close relatives to speak of, the family-like atmosphere of the office was one of the reasons she so liked working there.

      There were other reasons as well. Sloan and his daughters made up a big part of those reasons.

      The seemingly never-ending pile of patient insurance forms had been a convenient excuse for her to remain at the office after hours, but the truth was she knew the triplets had planned to confront their father today about the party and she wanted to be nearby…just in case.

      She’d loved those girls ever since her best friend Olivia, Sloan’s wife, had given birth to them. And Rachel had done everything she could to nurture them during the two years since Olivia had passed away.

      The triplets shouldn’t gang up on their father the way they were doing this afternoon. Rachel had seen a lot of that kind of behavior lately. The girls acted like a pack of wild dogs, nipping and yelping from all sides, until Sloan caved in to their demands. And it seemed that, as the girls got older, the more crafty they became. Today they were showing just how they had perfected this “pack hunting” technique.

      Rachel had remained at the office in order to dry their tears and smooth their ruffled feathers should Sloan refuse to allow them to attend the New Year’s Eve party. But as soon as she overheard the word date, she knew it was Sloan who was in urgent need of her support.

      And if there was anything she could do for Sloan…Her heart raced. Anything at all…

      With insurance papers still in one hand, a pen in the other, Rachel hurried into Sloan’s office.

      His handsome face was ghostly pale when she entered the room. And his sensual mouth—the one that so often intruded on her dreams in the deepest, most vulnerable part of the night—was gaping as he so obviously searched for something to say.

      Empathy for his plight welled up inside Rachel. She knew he agonized over his parenting responsibilities. Not that he bent her ear or leaned on her shoulder—she only wished he would. However, she knew he relied heavily on his friends and partners, Greg Hamilton and Travis Westcott.

      Being a single, childless woman, Rachel really hadn’t a clue how to fix this problem between Sloan and his daughters. But she had to try. She simply had to.

      Plastering a bright smile onto her face, she rustled up her courage and said, “Sounds like a little compromise is in order here.”

      Four pairs of eyes turned to look at her. Focusing on Sloan’s chocolate-brown ones would be a mistake, she knew. Her tongue would tie up in knots. So she directed her attention to the girls, letting her gaze bounce from one to the next.

      “It’s clear that your dad wants to let you go to the party,” she told them. “I overheard him say as much. But all three of you are going to have to be willing to make a few concessions where wardrobe and…and…a few other things are concerned.”

      “Kids are always the ones who have to make concessions,” Sydney muttered.

      “Well,” Rachel said smoothly, “nobody ever said that life is fair.”

      After only a second or two, Rachel continued, “That party invitation you showed me stated that this shindig is semiformal.”

      “Yes.” Sasha’s eyes brightened, evidently seeing Rachel as some sort of co-conspirator who had arrived to save the day. “That’s what we tried to explain to Dad. That we’d all need long gowns.”

      “Honey, I hate to break this to you—” Rachel’s head tilted gently “—but semiformal does not mean fancy evening dresses.”

      “Doesn’t mean strapless gowns or electric-blue slits, either,” Sloan murmured under his breath.

      Rachel suppressed the small smile tugging at her mouth, but the obvious appreciation she read in his brown gaze made her breath hitch in her throat.

      “How about,” she offered, forcing herself to focus on the girls once again, “if I take the three of you shopping? We’ll buy nice, tasteful dresses that your father will approve of.”

      “B-but all the girls are wearing—”

      “Trust me on this, Sydney,” Rachel said firmly.

      “What about makeup?” Sasha looked sulky, her bottom lip protruding.

      Rachel reached out and touched the girl’s cheek with her fingertips. “You’re so beautiful you don’t need makeup. But maybe your dad will agree to a little lightly tinted lip gloss. That’ll accentuate your cute mouth without too much garish color. What do you say, Sloan?”

      Again, the gratitude in his intense eyes made her feel as if all the air in the room had condensed. He smiled at her. Blood thrummed through СКАЧАТЬ