Lonergan's Secrets: Expecting Lonergan's Baby / Strictly Lonergan's Business / Satisfying Lonergan's Honour

Doc Evans winced a little and glanced away. “I’ve been doctoring folks longer than you’ve been alive, Sam. Don’t you worry any about Jeremiah’s treatment. I’m on top of things.” He gave Sam another pat, then started to close the door. “Thanks for stopping by. Good seeing you again.”

Sam slapped one hand against the door, holding it open. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me?”

Doc Evans’s blue eyes went wide and innocent behind his steel-rimmed glasses. “Why, no such thing. But I’ve got patients waiting for me and more in the waiting room. I’m a busy man, Sam. Busy, busy.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong here, but there was definitely something up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to examine my grandfather myself.”

The doctor blustered a minute or two, then his features went stiff and stern. “No call for that, Sam. Don’t think Jeremiah would allow that anyway. Appreciate that you’re worried, boy. But you’ll just have to trust me when I say things are as they should be.” He swung the door closed again, pushing hard against Sam’s restraining hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Sam let the door close and stood there frowning at it for a long minute before shaking his head and heading back down the hall.

Inside his office Bert Evans leaned back against the door and blew out a long breath. Dipping one hand into the pocket of his white office coat, he pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe his brow. Sam hadn’t been fooled, he knew. But he’d done what he could.

Lying didn’t come easy for Bert—mostly because he’d never been any good at it. His oldest friend, on the other hand, had a real gift for it. “Jeremiah, you old bastard,” he whispered. “You really owe me for this.”

Maggie walked briskly down Main Street, nodding to the people she passed, but her mind wasn’t really on visiting. Which was why she was just as glad Linda had had an emergency appointment and couldn’t make their standing lunch date.

Better this way, she told herself. She didn’t really like leaving Jeremiah alone these days. Not when he was feeling so badly. And at that thought, her mind went to Sam and what he might be finding out from Dr. Evans. Worry twisted inside her. Jeremiah had refused to talk to her about what he was feeling, brushing off her concern even while taking to his bed.

Frowning, she turned her thoughts from Jeremiah to Sam, and from there confusion reigned supreme. She’d known the man only twenty-four hours and already he was taking up way too much of her thoughts. But how could she not think about him?

“For heaven’s sake, Maggie,” she muttered, “give it a rest. You’ve already agreed to keep your distance. It’s not like he’s demanding his grandfather fire you or anything.”

But he could if he wanted to.

A whole different kind of worry spiraled through her despite Maggie’s determination to look on the bright side. It wasn’t fair that she had to worry about both Jeremiah’s health and her own home.

With her brain still churning, she stepped off the sidewalk and glanced around quickly before walking across the crowded supermarket parking lot. Cars came and went, but she hardly noticed. Focused on her errands, she hit the entrance and stepped into the air-conditioning with a grateful sigh. The sun was already high in the sky and blasting down with a heat that promised even higher temperatures soon.

Muzak drifted from the overhead speakers and from somewhere in the store a child’s temperamental wail sounded out. Wrestling a single cart free of the others, she dropped her brown leather purse in the front section. Then she started into the produce department, muttering a curse as the front wheel of the cart wobbled and clanged with her every step.

“Do they make those things broken?” A deep familiar voice came from right behind her, and Maggie nearly jumped out of her sneakers.

Whipping around, she lifted her gaze—quite a bit—to look into Sam Lonergan’s dark eyes. “You scared me half to death.”

He shook his head, pushed her aside and curled both hands around the cart handle. “I called your name three times when you were walking in from the parking lot. Called out to you again,” he said as he pushed the cart and clearly expected her to keep up, “as you were picking out this great cart.”

She frowned. “I didn’t hear you.” She’d been too busy thinking about him to actually see him. What did that say about her?

“Clearly.” He shrugged and stopped alongside the bin of romaine lettuce.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“Getting groceries, apparently.” He bagged first one, then two heads of lettuce, then moved on to inspect the fresh green beans.

Maggie shook her head as she watched him pick through the beans carefully. “I’m perfectly capable of shopping on my own, you know.”

He glanced at her. “You seem awfully territorial over a handful of green beans.”

She inhaled sharply and blew the air out in a huff. Yes, she was being territorial. But this was her life he was intruding on. She’d been taking care of Jeremiah for two years and it sort of rubbed her the wrong way to think that he was implying in some way that she hadn’t done a good job of it.

But then again, maybe getting snippy with the man wasn’t the way to handle things either. “Fine,” she said, congratulating herself on the calm, even tone of her voice. “We can do it together.” Then she reached out and took the bag of beans from him before dumping its contents back into the bin. “And you should know, your grandfather doesn’t like green beans.”

He frowned, then turned toward her and shrugged again as his frown slowly faded into a half smile. “You’re right. I’d forgotten. My grandmother used to make them for my cousins and I, but Pop never touched ‘em.”

Maggie smiled, too, and felt a whisper of something almost comfortable spin out between them. “He does like cauliflower,” she suggested, in an attempt to continue the truce.

“And broccoli, too!” He laughed at the memory, and something dazzling flashed in his eyes, stealing Maggie’s breath.

“You should do that more often,” she said when she was sure that her voice wouldn’t quiver.

“What’s that?” he asked, already grabbing up a head of cauliflower and dropping it into a plastic bag.

“Smile.”

He dipped his head, looked up at her, then tossed the vegetable into the basket before answering. “I just left Dr. Evan’s office.”

Maggie walked beside him, picking up a few lemons, a couple of grapefruits and several bunches of green onions. She didn’t speak right away and she knew it was because she was afraid of what Sam was going to say. What he’d found out from the doctor.

Jeremiah hadn’t spoken much about his sudden illness, and frankly she hadn’t asked for information. Cowardly or not, she simply didn’t want to have to face any dire truths that would have the capacity to break her heart.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I found out?” He came closer and Maggie could feel the heat of his body reaching out for her.

She swallowed her own fear, told herself she couldn’t hide from the truth forever and forced herself to nod. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”

“Not a clue.”

“What?”

“Excuse me.” An overweight woman in a tight flowered dress stared at them both. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to buy some oranges.”

“Sorry.” Sam frowned again, took Maggie by the arm and used his free hand to guide the limping cart away a few feet. When he stopped, he released her and said, “Doc Evans wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Oh, God.” Maggie covered her mouth with her hand and stared up at him as terrifying thoughts wheeled through her mind. If the doctor didn’t want to tell Jeremiah’s grandson what was wrong with him, that could only mean the older man was desperately ill. “That can’t be good. He must not want to worry you.”

He folded both arms across his chest and thought about that. “Could be the reason, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” Shaking his head, Sam muttered, “No. There’s something going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “Jeremiah and Doc Evans are up to something and I want to know what it is.”

Instantly defensive, Maggie said, “Are you trying to say that Jeremiah’s not sick? Because if you are, that’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe,” Sam allowed, but clearly he wasn’t convinced. Maggie reached for him, laying one hand on his forearm and somehow ignoring the sizzle of heat that erupted between them. “Jeremiah is a wonderful man. He would never worry his family unnecessarily. You should know that even better than I do.”

He glanced down at her hand on his arm and slowly Maggie withdrew it.

“You could be right,” he said finally. “But I want you to keep an eye out.”