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Naomi stared down at the white test strip, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.
She blinked, several times, but this wasn’t a dream. No matter how long she gazed at the test strip, the red plus sign remained clear as day.
Stunned, she tried to wrap her mind around the news. How could this have happened? Their protection had only failed once. The timing hadn’t been right. And even if the timing had been right, her doctor had explained about the scar tissue and how it would impact her ability of getting pregnant.
With all the strikes against her, how could she have gotten pregnant at the wrong time?
She swallowed hard, putting a hand to her stomach. The overwhelming exhaustion. The never-ending nausea. The constant going to the bathroom.
Everything made sense now.
This baby was a miracle. Despite her upset stomach, she grinned like a fool. A true miracle. The thrill of excitement faded.
Rick. How on earth was she going to tell him?
Her knees gave out and she sat down, feeling dizzy. After the way they’d parted in Chicago, she didn’t think he’d take the news well. He wasn’t ready to think about the future. He wasn’t ready for a family.
Laura Iding loved reading as a child, and when she ran out of books she readily made up her own, completing a little detective mini-series when she was twelve. But, despite her aspirations for being an author, her parents insisted she look into a ‘real’ career. So the summer after she turned thirteen she volunteered as a Candy Striper, and fell in love with nursing. Now, after twenty years of experience in trauma/critical care, she’s thrilled to combine her career and her hobby into one—writing Medical™ Romances for Mills & Boon®. Laura lives in the northern part of the United States, and spends all her spare time with her two teenage kids (help!)—a daughter and a son—and her husband. Enjoy!
Recent titles by the same author:
THE FIREFIGHTER AND THE SINGLE MUM
BABY: FOUND AT CHRISTMAS
BRIDE FOR A SINGLE DAD
HIS PREGNANT NURSE
THE DOCTOR’S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL
BY
LAURA IDING
This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law Sarah Iding, because she loves babies.
CHAPTER ONE
HE WOULD be the perfect man to father her baby.
Dr Rick Weber was tall, had brilliant blue eyes, thick chestnut-colored hair and a lean, muscular build. Just looking at him made her mouth go dry. His gaze collided with hers and the air crackled with tension for countless seconds when their eyes locked. He was the first to look away and it took a moment for her to resume breathing.
Shaken, she stared at him. He would have been perfect. Except for one tiny problem.
Rick Weber happened to be the new chief of pediatric trauma surgery.
And her new boss.
Dr Naomi Horton pulled herself together, hoping her moment of insane unprofessionalism wasn’t evident on her features. What was wrong with her?
She straightened in her seat, all too aware that she was one of only two female pediatric trauma surgeons in the conference room, and Debra Maloney didn’t count as she was happily married. Naomi didn’t think it was likely that any of the other four trauma surgeons would be drooling over their new boss.
“Good morning. Thanks for coming in on such short notice.” Rick appeared calm and relaxed as he addressed the group. If he was intimidated by his new position, leading a group of peds trauma surgeons, some of whom had been at the job much longer than he had, he didn’t show it. She took a bracing sip of her coffee, anxious for the kick of caffeine. She hadn’t slept well the night before, irrationally nervous about their first early morning meeting as she hadn’t yet met their new boss.
“I know we have our level one trauma center review coming up next week,” Rick continued. He swept a glance over the group. “Are there any outstanding issues I need to be aware of?”
Naomi couldn’t think of anything major, but she was the most junior member of the trauma team, having only been on staff at Children’s Memorial Hospital for two years. She remained silent as two of the tenured surgeons, Frank Turner and Chuck Lowrey, mentioned a few problem areas and the steps they’d taken to mitigate them.
She listened to the discussion but her mind began to drift, her gaze unerringly coming back to rest on Rick.
Why was she so physically aware of him? She hadn’t so much as experienced anything more than a flicker of interest in a man since her divorce two years ago. Why now? And why her new boss? A man completely off-limits?
Was fate trying to tell her something?
No, she needed to maintain a positive attitude. Her divorce had been rough. She and Andrew, her exhusband, had both wanted a baby for a long time. But after suffering a devastating miscarriage, and then being told that her ability to conceive again was unlikely, their relationship had quickly fallen apart.
One night she’d come home from work to find Andrew had packed up and moved out. She’d tried to talk to him, to salvage their marriage, but Andrew hadn’t been interested.
Her divorce hadn’t eliminated her desire to have a child, though. She’d gotten pregnant once before so she knew it could happen again. And she just couldn’t believe she was destined to live her life without ever having a baby. A child to love and cherish. Even if it meant raising a child on her own.
Rick described his plans to upgrade their trauma program, including monthly quality reviews on surgical complications, and she took notes, hoping the task would break the visceral reaction he seemed to have on her.
His gaze brushed hers and her pulse kicked into triple digits. She glanced away, hoping she could get her hormones to settle down soon.
This was ridiculous. Yes, she fantasized about having a baby, but having a real-life, flesh-and-blood man wasn’t a part of her plan. Her marriage had crumbled at the time she’d needed Andrew the most. She refused to open herself up to that sort of pain again.
Which left only one option. Artificial insemination.
She’d debated long and hard, finally choosing a donor, paying her money and scheduling an appointment at the fertilization clinic. That had been four months ago. Minor crises at work had kept making her miss the appointments and her cycle was irregular, which didn’t help either.
She was ovulating again, so she’d made another appointment. This time she refused to let anything get in her way.
“Any questions?” Rick’s gaze locked with hers. A guilty flush stained her cheeks. Could he tell she hadn’t been paying attention? Or, worse, could he tell how much his mere presence affected her?
She gathered her scattered, sleep-deprived thoughts. What had he talked about? She glanced at her notes. Oh, yes, plans for expanding their pediatric trauma prevention program into the community. She cleared her throat. “Do you need a volunteer to be on the community education committee? Because, if so, I’d like to be involved.”
“Absolutely.” Rick’s face lit up. “Naomi Horton, right?”
She nodded, feeling her heart race at the sound of her name in his deep, husky voice. Good grief, she hadn’t worked so hard to get through five years of surgical residency followed by another year as a surgical/trauma fellow to react like an adolescent the first time a gorgeous man smiled at her. She’d worked darned hard to get where she was and she wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize her position.
“I’ve met the rest of the team over these past few days, but kept missing you. Glad to finally put a face to a name.” Rick’s tone turned serious. “Yes, the community education program is very important to our trauma recertification process. I appreciate your will ingness to help out.”
“No problem.”
“Great.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment and she had the impression there was a hint of sadness in them before he turned and glanced over the group. “Any other questions?” He paused, waiting. “If not, we’ll call this meeting adjourned. Uh, Naomi, do you have a minute?”
Feeling like the errant student who hadn’t finished her homework, Naomi stood awkwardly to the side, allowing her colleagues to pass by on their way out of the physician conference room.
“What’s up?” she asked, striving for a distant tone. “I’m on service today in the PICU and need to get upstairs to make rounds.”
“I know, but I need a favor.” For the first time that morning, Rick appeared ill at ease.
A favor? She lifted a curious brow. “What?”
“I need someone to cover my call shift this evening.” His gaze was slightly apologetic. “I have a pressing personal issue I need to take care of. I can take over about nine o’clock or ten at the latest, if that’s all right with you?”
Nine or ten? Her heart sank. Heck no, it wasn’t all right. She had an appointment at the clinic at six and they closed at eight. Was he asking her because she was the most junior member of the group? Or because she was divorced and couldn’t possibly have a life? She stiffened her spine, not willing to be viewed as the easy mark. No way was she going to start covering all Rick’s call shifts, just because he happened to be the boss. She swallowed hard and forced a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but I have plans this evening. You’ll have to ask someone else.”
“I see.” He simply looked at her for a moment, but then slowly nodded. “I understand. I did check with the others. Debra is already post-call and she was up most of the night. Steve and Dirk are flying out to San Francisco to attend a national pediatric trauma conference. Frank and his wife are celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary, and Chuck Lowrey is filling in for one of the general surgeons while he’s on vacation.”
Damn. That pretty much covered their entire team. But her plans were just as important as anyone else’s. More so, because every time she canceled it meant another month of waiting. Another month of postponing her dream of having a family of her own. Helplessly she lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
His smile was crooked. “It’s all right. My problem, not yours. Thanks anyway.”
She turned away, fully intending to walk out, but the way he’d accepted her decision, without pulling rank or asking specifically what her plans were, made her waver. What was his pressing personal issue? She’d heard through the grapevine that Rick wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean anything. No doubt he was in some sort of relationship. For all she knew, his plans might not be anything more than getting his girlfriend settled after their move.
Yet to be fair, he didn’t seem like the type to exaggerate his need for time off. Trauma surgeons knew being on call was a part of the job, and being in charge of the program meant you had to take call rotations like everyone else. She took one step toward the door, and then another. She stopped. Calling herself every kind of fool, she sighed and turned back to meet Rick’s faintly questioning gaze. “I’ll take your shift.”
For a moment his eyes lit up but then he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask you to cancel your plans.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Sure. No big deal, just her entire future. She stifled a sigh and forced a smile. “Really, take care of what you need to do. I’ll cover your call.”
There was a long pause, as if he were debating with himself on whether or not he should take her up on her offer. Finally he nodded. “Thanks, Naomi. And if you get slammed with patients, just give me a call and I’ll back you up. With any luck, I’ll be finished by nine.”
Usually Wednesday nights weren’t exactly big trauma nights, unless the weather was bad. Peds trauma wasn’t nearly as busy as adult trauma. She was supposed to be second call anyway, but had figured there’d be little chance of being called in to help Rick, so she’d made the appointment when she’d realized she was ovulating.
If she didn’t go to the clinic today, she wouldn’t be able to go for the rest of the week. She and the other surgeons had picked up extra shifts to cover for Steve and Dirk who were on their way to San Francisco.
Canceling her plans tonight meant she’d forgo her chance of getting pregnant this month. Just like she’d forgone her plans last month and the month before that.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. She needed to find a way to make regular appointments and keep them. Her OB doctor had warned her that conceiving would be difficult, thanks to the scar tissue she’d sustained during several bouts of endometriosis. Canceling her appointments wasn’t helping in her quest to get pregnant.
“Thanks again,” Rick said, his gaze warm with appreciation. “I owe you one.”
“Sure.” Her smile was weak. He might owe her a favor but there was no way she could ask him to provide the one thing she really wanted.
A baby.
Rick watched Naomi leave, then yanked his gaze away when he realized he was admiring her petite, yet curvy backside. He frowned and gave his head a slight shake. He wasn’t interested in women, not any more.
Not ever again.
Convincing himself he’d only been grateful because Naomi had bailed him out of a jam, he stood. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he headed back to his office to catch up on his e-mails until the hour was late enough that he could call his sister.
Forty-five minutes later, he picked up the phone. “Jess? I managed to get off work tonight, so I can go to the father-daughter dance with Lizzy.”
“Oh, Rick, that’s wonderful. Lizzy will be ecstatic.” Jessica hesitated, then added, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I know this won’t be easy for you.”
“I’m fine.” He knew he sounded gruff, but couldn’t help it. Two years and the pain of his loss hadn’t gone away. Although sometimes he could go for days without thinking about it. He cleared his throat and tried to soften his tone. “Lizzy deserves to have someone escort her to the father-daughter dance. I’m honored to take her.”
“She’s going to be so thrilled. Thanks for rearranging your schedule, Rick.”
“No problem. Tell Lizzy I’ll pick her up at six.” He hung up the phone and stared blindly at his computer. He wasn’t so sure Naomi would appreciate why he’d asked her to cover his shift, but he couldn’t regret taking up her offer. Lizzy had just turned ten and was feeling left out of the “in” crowd at school. But she was a great kid, and it certainly wasn’t her fault she hadn’t seen her father for years. The jerk had taken off shortly after Lizzy’s birth.
Jess had done a good job of raising Lizzy alone, but he also knew his sister had struggled. He’d helped Jess financially, but it hadn’t been until recently, after he’d lost his own wife and child, that he’d begun looking for a position to bring him closer to home.
A new start was just what he needed to help get away from the memories. Plus, he figured he should help Jess raise Lizzy, as they didn’t have any other family left. And he wasn’t interested in going down that path again. Having and losing one family in a lifetime was bad enough.
Rick left work early so he could catch a couple of hours’ sleep, just in case he had a busy call night. He didn’t sleep well, but managed to get a little rest. He showered and dressed, then left to pick up his niece.
The father-daughter dance wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. The gym of the elementary school had been decorated with streams of crepe paper and dozens of balloons. The disc jockey played songs, took requests and held a dance contest. He and Lizzy participated but his lack of coordination hindered their chance of winning. He managed to participate in the chicken dance, though, and if he felt like an idiot, flapping his arms like wings, he considered it lucky that no one he knew was around to see him.
For a few songs the DJ played some sort of rap music that hurt his ears. Thankfully, the girls preferred dancing with each other, leaving the dads and surrogate dads to stand around, awkwardly talking about sports and wishing for something stronger than punch to drink. He caught himself glancing at his watch and wondering how Naomi was doing. For her sake, he hoped the trauma calls weren’t too bad.
Finally, the DJ announced the last song, and he danced once again with Lizzy. Her head barely reached his chest, but they managed to get through the whole number without him stepping on her toes.
“Thanks, Uncle Rick,” she murmured, gazing up at him with wide, adoring brown eyes. “I’m so glad you could come with me. I was so sad to think I might have to sit at home alone tonight.”
The thought of Lizzy feeling sad and lonely made him doubly glad Naomi had helped him out. “Hey, I’m the lucky guy who got to dance with the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes, but blushed and giggled. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.” He took her hand as they headed toward the door, and glanced down at her. “I love you, Lizzy.”
“I love you too, Uncle Rick.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, and just for a moment he imagined that his daughter Sarah would have looked at him in the same way, six years from now.
A sharp stab of pain caught him off guard and he dropped his car keys. Fumbling, he picked them up and then held the door for Lizzy so they could walk outside. A thick fog hung over the school parking lot, so he used the key fob to help locate their car.
Pulling himself out from under a cloak of painful memories, he helped Lizzy inside and then walked around to the driver’s side. He started the car and carefully drove out of the parking lot, moving slowly because of the dense fog. Luckily his sister’s house wasn’t far. He was headed in that direction when his pager went off.
With a frown, he pulled the car over and read the text message from Naomi. Multi-vehicle crash with five peds victims expected, one DOA at the scene. I’m going to need help.
“Is there a problem?” Lizzy asked, her freckle-dusted nose wrinkling in a frown.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to go back to the hospital tonight.” Still driving slowly, keeping a careful eye out for other cars, he pulled into his sister’s driveway and left the car running while he took the time to see Lizzy safely inside the house. “See you later, kiddo.” He gave her a quick hug. “Tell your mom I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“I will. Bye. Thanks again.” Lizzy waved as he dashed to his car and backed out of the driveway.
Adrenaline surged as he drove toward Children’s Memorial, the short ride taking twice as long as usual. He didn’t doubt that the heavy fog had contributed to the MVA. Five peds victims was almost unheard of when the average was a couple calls a night. He supposed he should be thankful that the crash had taken place after Lizzy’s father-daughter dance had ended.
Fifteen minutes later he strode into the E.D. and found Naomi up to her pretty neck in pediatric trauma victims. There were three youngsters in the trauma room, ages ranging from eight to fourteen, each looking worse than the next.
A wave of guilt for asking Naomi to switch shifts with him hit him.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked. Naomi was still the surgeon in charge, and he didn’t want to automatically take control of the situation she’d already begun to handle.
“Take a look at the youngest over there.” She pointed to the victims closest to the door. “I think he needs to go to the O.R. We’re going to have to split up, one operating on patients while the other continues triaging patients down here.”
He glanced around, noting the level of activity. “Split up? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We don’t have a choice.” Naomi’s gaze was grim. “These are only the first three victims—there are still two more on the way. We need to clear a few of these patients out of here before the next ones arrive.”
CHAPTER TWO
NAOMI wished she could have avoided bothering Rick, but there were too many victims for one trauma surgeon to handle. This many pediatric trauma patients was unusual, but apparently there was a special kids’ night being held at the baseball park and lots of kids had been in the cars that had crashed. As she was already triaging, she decided to send Rick to surgery.
“You’d better take this patient to the O.R.” She gestured to the youngest patient, Jimmy Dupont, an eight-year-old with a tense abdomen. “I’m pretty sure he has a ruptured spleen, he’s lost too much blood. If you can take him off my hands, I’ll manage the rest of the triage down here.”
“All right.” Rick didn’t argue, but motioned to the nurse hanging another unit of blood. “Let’s go. I’ll change clothes when we get to the O.R.”
In the back corner of her mind she realized Rick was wearing a suit and tie, but there wasn’t time to resent how he’d used her to cover for a hot date, not when she had so many patients to care for. She turned her attention to the situation at hand, feeling as if she was standing in the middle of a war zone.
“All right, I want the twelve-year-old female, Chelsey Dupont, transferred to the ICU.” She’d already intubated Chelsey and placed a chest tube for the girl’s collapsed lung. Out of all the trauma patients they’d received so far, Chelsey had been the first to arrive and was the most stable of the bunch. The PICU residents upstairs could handle her care for a little while.
“I want Tristan Brown to get a CT scan of his chest and belly.” She suspected fourteen-year-old Tristan had a severe liver laceration, but needed to make sure it was nothing more. He also had a compound femur fracture and had already called the ortho surgeons to take a look at him.
“Doc?” Tristan reached out for her as the nurses began to wheel him away.
“What is it, Tristan?” She stopped them, and took his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s my sister? Where’s Emily?”
She bit her lip, hoping to heaven that Emily wasn’t the child who’d been declared DOA on the scene. “I don’t know. How old is she? There are still a few victims on the way.”
“Seven. Emily is only seven.” Tristan’s eyes were wild with anxiety. “You have to find her for me. Our parents were hurt, too. I need to see Emily.”
The whole family. She swallowed hard and gently squeezed his hand. “I’ll find Emily but we need to take care of you, too, Tristan. The nurses are going to take you to Radiology for a CT scan of your belly. I need to make sure there’s nothing more serious than a few broken bones.”
“I don’t care.” His eyes filled with anguished tears. “Find Emily, Doc. Please, find my sister. Tell her I love her.”
“I will.” She released his hand and stepped back so the nurses could wheel him away. She bit her lip, desperately needing to find out the name of the DOA patient. She didn’t know if the DOA was an adult or a child, and although no one deserved to die in a car crash, she found herself praying the dead patient wasn’t little Emily.
She hurried towards the unit clerk’s desk but was brought up short when the doors to the trauma room burst open and two more bloodstained patients were brought in.
Fleeting panic hit low in her belly. Never in her life had she ever faced such a massive influx of pediatric trauma patients at one time. She strove to remain calm, listening as the paramedics rattled off the pertinent details.
“Ten-year-old male with multiple fractures, including his pelvis, long extrication at the scene, blood pressure low-eighties over forty.”
“Do you have a name?” She wanted to know how many families they were dealing with here. So far they had the Duponts and the Browns.