Tears tracked down her face. “Look, Jason. Our baby is so …”

He didn’t have the words either. Instead he wiped away her tears with his thumb, then on instinct followed with his lips.

A lump of tenderness rose in his throat, followed by a huge mass of protectiveness in his heart.

It was this kind of emotion that made a doctor miss important signs and symptoms. He worked hard to get himself under control, even though the warmth of Stephanie’s hand distracted him.

Their child. One father. One mother. One child.

And together the three of them made up a family. The concept sent a shiver down his spine and raised the hairs on his arms.

Dear Reader

When I sat down to write this story it was as if I’d just stepped off the elevator at the Sheffield Memorial Paediatric Diagnostics Floor to see Dr Jason Drake, with all his intensity, in a locked stare with Dr Stephanie Montclair—his equal in every way.

Frankly, I just held on for the ride as they battled illness along with their attraction to each other.

A calling to the medical profession is an emotional pull born of sympathy and nurturing. Yet doctors, particularly those who work with children, must not become overwhelmed with emotion to the point where they cannot apply medical science and logic. It’s a struggle to find that balance, and it can take a great toll on the spirit. But not bearing that load alone is what this story is all about.

Dr Jason Drake and Dr Stephanie Montclair find respite in each other’s arms, but they need more. Will proud, strong heiress Stephanie risk heartache when Jason proposes to share responsibility for her professional burdens as well as for her unborn baby? Can the stoic and brilliant Jason accept the emotional healing Stephanie offers to sustain him through the trials of his profession as well as the tragedy of his past? And, when these decisions take a life-or-death turn, will love conquer all?

These two dynamic doctors kept me on the edge of my seat from beginning to end. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed sharing it with you. Let me know!

Connie

www.ConnieCox.com

About the Author

CONNIE COX has loved Harlequin Mills and Boon® romances since she was a young teen. Now to be a Mills and Boon® author is a fantasy come to life. By training, Connie is an electrical engineer. Through her first job, working on nuclear scanners and other medical equipment, she gained a unique perspective into the medical world. She is fascinated by the inner strength of medical professionals, who must balance emotional compassion with stoic logic, and is honoured to showcase the passion of these dedicated professionals through her own passion of writing. Married to the boy-next-door, Connie is the proud mother of one terrific daughter and son-in-law, and one precocious dachshund.

Connie would love to hear from you. Visit her website at www.ConnieCox.com

This is Connie’s first book for M&B Medical™ Romance. Look out for more from her coming soon!

The Baby
Who Saved
Dr Cynical

Connie Cox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Sonia, sister of my heart,

who always believes in me, and to Amy and Winnie,

who follow their bliss and inspire me to do the same.

CHAPTER ONE

SHE’D done it. She’d sold Dr. Jason Drake’s reputation for three million dollars and a closed case.

As Director of Diagnostics, Dr. Stephanie Montclair had agreed to pay off the family’s wrongful death claim, with Dr. Jason Drake’s name on the line as the attending physician and no fault levied against Sheffield Memorial Hospital.

“We all tried our best to keep that precious little boy alive. Dr. Drake stayed up here three days straight trying to save little Isaac,” Stephanie offered in token protest to the ring of lawyers that surrounded her desk.

“You’re doing the right thing,” the chief legal counselor reassured her. “A good prosecuting attorney would have a judge and jury in tears inside three minutes flat. Even if we were to win the suit in the end, Sheffield Memorial can’t risk the prolonged negative publicity. And if Dr. Drake is called to the stand, with his brash manner, we can’t predict how he’ll come across.”

Reluctantly, Stephanie agreed. Jason was a great doctor—one of the best—but he’d never seen the need to sugarcoat his words.

“There has to be a better way. Sanction me instead.”

“Not an option, Dr. Montclair. The board would never approve it, and rightly so,” one of the lawyers said. “That move could put the whole department in jeopardy.”

The case had been heartbreaking. In conjunction with Diagnostics, Sheffield’s Neonatal Unit had tried scores of unorthodox methods to keep the premature infant alive, many of them beyond the edge of convention, only to have the grieving parents lash out at the hospital to try to ease their pain.

That little Isaac’s parents were high-profile celebrities hadn’t helped. The grief-stricken couple had threatened to call in every publicity connection they had if Sheffield Memorial didn’t take action against the culprit who’d killed their baby.

Stephanie could understand the parents’ anguish. Although she’d only known about her own baby a few short weeks, the thought of losing that tiny life inside her sent heavy waves of dread through her heart.

Still, she and the lawyers couldn’t make them understand there was nothing Jason or anyone else could have done better.

And now the hospital’s reputation was in danger. As a small, private research and teaching hospital, Sheffield Memorial kept its doors open only through grants and goodwill.

Dr. Wilkins chimed in. “Stephanie, the board recommendation to name Dr. Drake in the lawsuit is the least harmful action we can take for the greater good. Dr. Drake might have his shortcomings, but he’s one of the top diagnostic physicians in the world. His stellar professional standing can take the hit with no lasting, detrimental effect. That’s why we shell out the big bucks for his malpractice insurance.”

Not only was Wilkins the board’s treasurer, he was a family friend who had attended her christening. He knew her Achilles’ heel.

“We’ve already seen a drop in patient referrals. A messy court case along with a star-studded media circus would call our accreditations into question and jeopardize critical funding. We would have to turn away sick children who need us.”

Before she could waver, she signed on the dotted line. Each of the hospital’s team of lawyers stood and shook her hand, sealing the deal. She would be washing that hand as soon as possible.

As they left her office, Dr. Wilkins hung back from the others. “The board and I were worried you’d let your personal relationship with Dr. Drake influence your decision. They will be pleased to learn you had no qualms about putting Sheffield Memorial first.”

Stephanie clearly heard the unspoken threat behind his words, despite the fact the hospital was named after her maternal great-grandfather.

Doctors ran on both sides of the family. Her mother was a cardiologist. Her father an endocrinologist. Both sat on the hospital board. Although if a newcomer had suggested Stephanie had been appointed to her current position of Director of Pediatric Diagnostics because of who she was, instead of what she did, she hoped any of the hospital personnel would be quick to disabuse them. Stephanie worked day and night to be twice as competent as any other department head and prove she’d earned her position.

Then again, those who knew her staff didn’t envy her. She was the only department head who could handle Jason Drake.

“Tell them not to worry. I would never put the hospital at risk for personal reasons.” She hesitated to add more, but everyone on the Diagnostics floor already knew anyway. “Dr. Drake and I aren’t together anymore.”

“The board will be glad to hear it.” Whether that was a comment on her loyalty to the hospital or her relationship with Dr. Drake or both, Stephanie didn’t know. She only knew that, even though she’d effectively besmirched and betrayed Jason, she had made the right decision. So why did it feel so wrong?

Her stomach lurched, as if her baby were protesting Mommy’s ill treatment of Daddy. Yes, the deal she’d finagled left a very sour taste in her mouth.

Outside the patient’s open door, Stephanie stopped to gather her thoughts. She could see that Jason was already inside the room. In accordance with the terms of the settlement, Stephanie would sit in on this case and every other case Jason picked up for the next six months. It was a mixed blessing that the bad publicity they’d already received had resulted in fewer patients checking into Sheffield Memorial. She wasn’t sure how she would have handled the extra duties along with her normal responsibilities. But at least the morning sickness was letting up now.

Her involvement in his cases hadn’t been an issue in the past. In fact, even though her administrative duties had limited her patient load, Jason had always invited her in on cases he’d thought would interest her. Hopefully he would continue to welcome her after he learned of the lawsuit.

As he paid little attention to any hospital business outside of medicine, she was counting on him shrugging off the deal as a necessary evil and continuing on as normal.

Only with the compromises she’d had to make it wouldn’t be quite as normal as she would have liked, though she would try to make it as painless as possible for both of them.

As usual, Jason wore scrubs, although the other diagnosticians wore business attire and lab coats. On his six-feet-four frame the drawstring pants and boxy shirt took nothing away from his lean build, kept hard with hiking and white-water rafting.

He needed a haircut. His spiky dark blond hair went out of control almost as fast as his mouth did. How many times had she finger-combed those strands into place after making love?

One too many, apparently.

Originally they had agreed to keep it casual. She had avoided relationships in the past, not wanting to take her focus off her climb up the medical ladder, but Jason Drake had seemed perfect. Remote. Stoic. Yet highly sensual and with no strings attached. Perfect for her first intentionally cavalier relationship.

When Jason had seemed reluctant to talk about himself, his roots, his past, his reticence had only helped her stay detached—at least that was what she’d told herself. She had gotten exactly what she’d thought she wanted. But now she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more.

She’d thought something special was developing between them, but now she understood she’d mistaken sexual attraction for an emotional connection.

No, she’d never meant to fall for him. He certainly hadn’t made the same mistake with her. Jason didn’t do emotions.

Now she was certain they had no future together. Not even for the sake of the baby. They might have if he’d bothered to show up for dinner that night, but she’d not been important enough to derail his plans—again.

At three and a half months, she would be showing soon. She should try again to tell Jason about the baby. He had a right to know, even if she didn’t expect anything from him.

If only he were daddy material.

Damn. He hated these cases.

The little dark-haired girl wasn’t quite four yet. She had big brown eyes that looked up to him to make her feel better.

He flipped through her chart, noting all the tests she’d gone through. The kid had been poked by more needles than a porcupine had. She couldn’t understand.

Stay objective. Sympathy doesn’t fix anyone.

First the baby boy, Isaac, and now this little girl was really getting to him. He was going soft. It didn’t help that this was the anniversary of his brother’s death—which should be the perfect reminder to keep his emotions out of the equation.

He needed a stress-reliever.

One good night in Stephanie’s bed would fix him right up. Her, too.

Medicine wasn’t the only thing he took pride in.

He still didn’t understand what had happened. It was only a missed dinner date, and they’d both agreed at the beginning to keep things casual. Their careers were too important for anything more serious, which suited Jason perfectly. He had vowed on his brother’s grave that he would never, ever lose himself in a relationship again.

Even if Stephanie didn’t want to be intimate they could share a meal, talk, enjoy each other’s company. Although he’d never been lonely before, since their breakup his evenings stretched into long, empty, sleepless hours to be endured before morning, when he could get back to his work.

He gave a tight nod to the girl’s mother. “The test results are in. It’s not multiple sclerosis.”

Her mother gave him a protective version of her daughter’s smile. “That’s good. What’s next?”

Automatically he compared the mother’s features to her daughter’s, looking for clues to an inheritable condition.

The father wasn’t in the picture. How could any man look at himself in the mirror after deserting his own child? And a developmentally disabled child at that?

“We’re still ruling out various forms of muscular dystrophy. We’re testing muscular DNA samples, which may tell us something and may not. I’m not going to do a nerve conduction velocity test until I have to. It’s rather uncomfortable and I don’t think Maggie will understand.” He should really run the test and get it over with, but Maggie had been through a lot lately and he might get his answer in a less invasive way.

Yes, he was definitely getting soft, and it was affecting his logic. Not good. For him or his patients.

His attention was diverted by Stephanie coming up behind them.

Jason would recognize that walk anywhere. Steady, confident and competent. In her customary high heels, she reached his chin. He only had to dip his head to meet her, mouth-to-mouth.

She walked with purpose. She did everything with purpose.

Directness was one of the qualities he admired about her—along with her body, her hair, her smell. He admired everything about her except her decision to break it off with him.

Her long, straight mink-brown hair was gathered into a low ponytail today.

It had been four weeks and two days since he’d freed it from its bindings and wrapped it around him like a waterfall in the privacy of her bedroom.

“I’ll be joining you on this case, Dr. Drake.”

“You’re the boss.” Not that he answered to any man—or woman. He knew his purpose in life. Grabbing people back from the abyss of death had nothing to do with administrative rules or regulations.

Still, she was good at what she did: juggling patient care, internal politics and financial budgets. He had to admit his life ran much more smoothly with her in charge.

What was different about her lately?

Did her eyes look deeper? Her face rounder? Was she glowing? She might have put on a few pounds. He couldn’t be certain with her open lab coat covering her button-down shirt and straight fitted skirt. If so, they looked good on her.

“I’m Dr. Montclair.” Stephanie introduced herself, giving equal attention to daughter and mother.

“Please call me Anne, and this is Maggie.” Maggie’s mom stood and shook hands.

Stephanie crouched down to Maggie’s eye level as the child sat in her bed. “How are you today, Maggie?”

Maggie looked past Stephanie and stuffed her doll’s hand into her mouth.

“I’m going to listen to your heart, okay?” She unwrapped her stethoscope from her lab coat pocket and hung it around her neck.

At Sheffield Memorial it was policy that each doctor on a case would check vitals and make independent assessments. Attention to such details was one of the key factors that made Sheffield Memorial such a renowned teaching and research hospital, even if it was much smaller than most public institutions.

Despite Stephanie’s cheerful tone and slow movements, Maggie whimpered and drew back.

Anne spoke up. “She only lets Dr. Drake do that.”

Jason frowned. He hadn’t realized. Maggie had no reason to like him or trust him. He hadn’t asked for that. He only wanted to assess her symptoms, identify the problem and fix it.

Stephanie stepped back. “What if I listen to Mom’s heart first?”

Maggie shook her head. An emphatic no.

Anne stroked her daughter’s hair to calm her. “Could Dr. Montclair listen to Dr. Drake’s heart, then?”

The child grinned around the doll in her mouth.

He and Stephanie hadn’t touched, even to brush hands, since their break-up. The anticipation of her hands on him made his skin quiver.

He took a step back. “If we need to forgo this I can debrief you with all Maggie’s vitals as well as her current condition before the diagnostics meeting, Dr. Montclair.”

“I appreciate that. Now, let’s set a good example for Maggie and try the stethoscope.” Stephanie fitted the earpieces and waggled her finger at Jason to come closer. “Stand still and take a deep breath, Dr. Drake.”

When she placed her hand on his chest, the single layer of material between them did nothing to stop a spark arcing between her hand and his heart. He concentrated on keeping his heart-rate steady but failed miserably. He could feel the pounding in his ears. What kind of example would he set for Maggie if he grabbed Stephanie and bolted from the room with her at her very proper touch?

Stephanie was having no problem being steady, cool and in control.

Using great discipline, he controlled his breathing, steadily in and out. His professional reputation was at stake.

Stephanie gave him a worried look but said nothing.

Finally, she dropped her hands and turned to Maggie. “Your turn?”

Aside from a grimace, the girl didn’t protest this time.

“Now let me take your pulse, Dr. Drake.” She held out her hand for his wrist.

No sense in fighting the inevitable. When she asked, he could deny her nothing.

Her warm, open palm held him as captive as a set of handcuffs. The pad of her fingers rocked back and forth until she found the throbbing in his wrist.

Would she notice if his heart skipped a beat or two?

“Thank you, Dr. Drake.” She turned back to Maggie, who appeared to be avidly looking to the left of their little charade. “Your turn, Maggie. May I hold your arm?”

To Jason’s amazement, Maggie held out her wrist. This was the first response she’d made to anyone’s request since she’d been hospitalized. From the sudden alertness in her mother’s eyes, this was unexpected for Anne, too.

Stephanie found the girl’s pulse and counted.

“Thank you, Maggie.” The moment Stephanie released her arm Maggie put it under the covers.

“Perfect,” she told the girl. “Now, let’s check ears and eyes. Dr. Drake, if you’ll sit, please?” She pointed to the visitor’s chair beside the bed.

Maggie scrambled to turn herself onto her side and peer through the railings to watch. Observing and analyzing Maggie’s movements helped distract Jason from the intimacy of his own examination. If Maggie could so easily pull her legs under her and twist sideways, why couldn’t she walk? She had once been able to run around the house without hesitation. How did her late ambulatory development factor in?

“Ears first.” Stephanie leaned over him, her breasts inches from his mouth. He swallowed hard to keep from drooling.

Her featherlight touch tickled the rim of his ear.

As Stephanie leaned close to look, her sweet breath warmed his neck.

Every primal cell in his body screamed for him to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his lair. For Maggie’s sake he kept himself still and unresponsive, although his clenched palms had begun to sweat.

“That didn’t bother you a bit, did it, Dr. Drake?”

“No, not at all.” He forced the lie past his gritted teeth.

“Now, let’s take a look at your eyes.”

There was no way Jason could hide the dilation of his pupils—a physiological reaction to his desire. To distract himself, he silently listed the noble gasses from the periodic table while congratulating himself on his own noble restraint.

Stephanie’s intense scrutiny made him want to wince away, but her hand on his shoulder held him still. Once she was satisfied with what she saw she released him. He sank back into the chair, so tense every nerve-ending twanged like over-tightened guitar strings.

Stephanie showed no signs of being affected at all. As if they were nothing but colleagues and had never been lovers. As if he’d never made her scream his name into the night, or washed breakfast dishes beside her in the morning.

What had he done besides miss a dinner date or two? Duty had called. She’d grown up in a doctors’ household. Surely she understood? It had to be something more.

“Your turn, Maggie.” Stephanie moved from chair to bedside.

Maggie began to protest by grunting, and waving the hand that didn’t hold her doll, but when Jason enfolded her fluttering hand in his she settled down and let Stephanie shine a light into her eyes as she stared at the wall past her mother.

“All done.” Stephanie stuck the small light into her lab coat pocket. “You’re a very brave girl, Maggie.”

At her name, Maggie slid her glance past Stephanie to rest slightly to the right. She held out her doll in an obvious invitation to be friends.

Careful to avoid the doll’s wet chewed hand, Stephanie took the ratty-haired toy and cradled it in her arms, giving the honor proper tribute. She gave the doll a pat and reverently tucked it into bed beside Maggie. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ll come back and visit soon.”

Stephanie would be a good mother. Jason’s thoughts startled him so much he stood abruptly. He’d never thought of motherhood and Stephanie Montclair in the same breath before.

She had a demanding job and a busy social schedule. How could she add motherhood to the mix, even if she wanted to? And then there was the little issue of who would father her child.

He had the strangest urge to volunteer.

First his disturbing emotional reaction to his patients and now this? No, he was not cut out to be a family man, much as he might daydream about it. He had enough past history to prove he did more harm than good in that role. He really needed to make arrangements for a few days off soon …

“Diagnostics meeting starts in five minutes.” He walked to the door to get Stephanie moving in that direction.

“If there’s anything I or my staff can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know,” Stephanie said to Maggie’s mother, sounding like the concierge of an expensive hotel. Was she really that worried about the fall-off of patients?

She probably was. Sheffield Memorial was her family’s legacy—something she took very seriously. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to make it thrive. Next thing he knew she would be sending in staff to put mints on the patients’ pillows.

Drake couldn’t fault her. If he’d had a legacy of any sort he might feel the same. But mongrels like him had no birthright to speak of. And the heritage he did have was better off left unspoken.

As soon as the door latched behind him, she stopped him with a hand to his arm, sending tingles to the soles of his feet. “Before we talk about the girl, I want you to get a physical. Your heart rate is too fast and your blood pressure is elevated.”

“I’m fine.”

“That’s a direct order. Got it?”

Protesting wouldn’t get him back on her good side. “Fine. I’ll get it checked out. I didn’t know you cared.”

“Of course I care. This hospital is in enough trouble with the media without one of our physicians dropping dead in the hallway because he neglected his own health.”

“Your concern is touching.” He put distance between them, but his arm still tingled where her hand had been.

Stephanie used all her will-power to keep from reaching out and pulling him back to her.

She craved the vibrations he sent through her when he touched her, the deep-seated sense of wellbeing and protection he gave her whenever he was near. But he had proved to her too many times that it was a false sense of security.

She couldn’t count on him to keep a dinner date, much less a vow of happily-ever-after.

Stephanie picked up her pace, putting even more distance between them. She didn’t need him, and neither did her baby.

A wave of exhaustion tinged with queasiness hit her, pressing on her shoulders and dragging at her heels. Normal, her obstetrician had promised her. It should pass soon.

Like a good Montclair, Stephanie soldiered on.

She would need to tell her parents soon.

They were so conservative. Telling them about her unplanned baby would disappoint them at first. Not only was she unwed, she was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She should know how to prevent pregnancy.

Where once she would have whole-heartedly agreed with them, she now had a more sympathetic view. Accidents happened—even to medical professionals.

And this was a happy accident. She already loved her unborn child beyond measure.

Her parents and grandparents would support her in the end, even if they weren’t totally happy to do so.

The Montclairs and the Sheffields stuck together, putting on a united front. They always had. In fact, Stephanie felt confident that once they were over the shock of their dateless daughter being pregnant they would be thrilled at having a successor to carry on the family name—something her father perpetually worried about.

Her child would grow up knowing only respect and her unconditional love, no matter what anyone thought about his or her parentage. She would make sure of it.

Her child would be the center of her universe.

Yes, Stephanie was positive her child would lack for nothing except a father.

“Stephanie, are you all right?” Jason asked.

They had paused outside the conference room. When had they stopped walking? Preoccupation and distraction seemed to be another symptom of her pregnancy lately.

“I’m fine. Just fine,” she snapped at him.

“You’re pale.” He ran a finger down her cheek—way too intimate for their present circumstances. “And clammy. And you have a faraway look in your eyes.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“The lawsuit?”

“That’s an issue I can’t discuss with you right now.” Not until the board signed off on her decision. That would probably happen sometime this evening, during the Montclair-Sheffield fundraiser, with board members discreetly disappearing into a private alcove to affix their signatures to the document that would blemish Jason’s reputation.

But it was too late for second thoughts.

Soldier on, Stephanie.

Through the partially open blinds of the conference room she could see her diagnostic staff assembled. “They’re waiting on us.”

“Stephanie, if there’s anything I can do to help—”

His offer surprised her.

Too soon she would have the unfortunate duty of telling him how the hospital he had devoted his whole life to was selling him out.

Yes, he would be well compensated for his involuntary sacrifice, but the board didn’t understand. Jason didn’t do what he did for money. He did it out of passion.

Stephanie knew she was the only one who understood the passion Jason hid beneath his cynically stoic exterior.

All he had to do was brush against her to remind her.

“After you.” He held the door open for her, briefly trailing his fingertips on the small of her back to guide her through.

His gray eyes smoldered before he banked the fire, but she’d seen the desire that flickered there. And had felt a responding spark in herself—a spark that could all too easily be fanned into a full-blown inferno.

All vestiges of nausea and lethargy fled at his touch.

They were so good together. Maybe if …

No, it was too late for second thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO

JASON saw that Dr. Riser and Dr. Phillips had already seated themselves at the table with a cup of coffee each.

He turned to the kitchenette that housed a small microwave and refrigerator along with a pair of electric burners. One burner held a pot of brewed coffee, but Stephanie preferred tea.

Filling the extra pot with water, he put it on the burner to boil.

“It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Stephanie began to peel off her lab coat.

Her skin was now flushed with healthy color instead of holding that pallor her worry had caused her. She really needed to get away—with him. A little time in his mountain cabin on his faux fur rug would fix her right up.

“Let me help you.” Jason stepped toward her to help—out of politeness, but mostly out of the desire to touch her again. He yearned for that zing they created between them whenever they made contact, and couldn’t keep himself from trying to recreate it whenever he had the chance.

But she shrugged away his outstretched hand as she hung the lab coat on the rack near the door.

Yes, her curves were definitely curvier.

As she slid into her office chair she picked up her glasses, anchored them low on the bridge of her nose and looked over the top at him. Did she know how that prim and proper look set him on fire? Was she teasing him on purpose?

He hoped so, but doubted it.

Since that fateful night two weeks ago, when he’d got caught up in his work and had to cancel their dinner date, she had rebuffed every move he’d made. He set the steeping cup of tea in front of her.

“No, thank you. I’m cutting down on caffeine.” She shoved it back to him. “Now, tell me what’s going on with little Maggie.”

Jason took a sip of the tea himself, although it was too sweet for his taste. Then he stood and pointed to the whiteboard that listed symptoms and possible diagnoses and drew a line through multiple sclerosis. “The child is average in both weight and height. Reduced muscle tone, delayed development, lack of speech, yet good appetite and no fever. These symptoms aren’t new. But after walking for a year and a half she now seems to have forgotten how. Dr. Montclair, what are your observations?”

Stephanie traced an invisible circle on the table. Her hands always moved as she processed. “Her vitals are good, all within the normal range. Her palm is warm. Not clammy or cold. Her grip is weak. Her fingernails are thin and flaky. And she has the longest eyelashes for a child of her age I’ve ever seen.”

Fingernails and eyelashes. Only Stephanie had noticed the obvious. Added to the clues he’d already put together, a suspicion began to form in his mind.

Damn it, she looked different. Was she dating someone else?

Focus, Drake, he told himself. Mentally, he considered and discarded possible diagnoses.

“Anyone else have something to add?” he challenged his diagnostics team.

“She’s obsessed with that doll,” Dr. Phillips said. Dr. Phillips was the youngest and the chattiest, but her expertise in toxicology made her invaluable.

Like a parrot on her shoulder, Dr. Riser nodded in concurrence.

Dr. Riser had been doing a lot of that lately, instead of presenting his own ideas. Jason’s team had been picked with great care, but even the best partnerships became stale after a while. And Jason hadn’t picked Riser. The board had.

Dr. Riser was a neurosurgeon the hospital had brought in for an undisclosed salary. He regularly moonlighted for the neurology department.

The respiratory/pulmonary member of the group was missing today. Personal business, he’d said. Job interview, the rumor mill said. He was looking for a position with a higher success rate than their department.

Diagnostics was a last-ditch effort after all the other medical personnel had given up. Often the diagnosis came too late, or the patient couldn’t be treated. Pediatric diagnostics was hard on the ego as well as the soul if a doctor valued his success rate over saving individual lives.

Stephanie answered Dr. Phillips. “Wouldn’t you be fixated on your favorite toy, too? Surrounded by strangers, you’d be clinging to the few constants in your life.”

He could always count on her to bring in the human aspect of a case. His team was becoming too narrowly focused, echoing his weaknesses as well as his strengths. Stephanie was exactly who he needed on this case. And in his bed.

No. He did not need Stephanie Montclair in his bed. He wanted her in his bed, but he didn’t need her there.

What he needed was focus. Stephanie made that damned hard. He was fascinated by this strong, sexy, intelligent woman.

He looked around at the assembled doctors, his gaze deliberately sliding past Stephanie.

Turning Dr. Phillips’ observation on its side, he challenged, “Did anyone notice Maggie also chewed the sleeve of her nightgown and the edge of her blanket? Is it that she wants the doll, or does she just want to put something in her mouth?”

Drs Phillips and Riser easily nodded their agreement. Jason scowled, exasperated. He didn’t need any yes-men. Or yes-women. He needed independent thinkers. Loyal accord didn’t diagnose patients.

He added ‘obsessive chewing’ to the list, then pointed to the word ‘autistic.’ “Anyone get a better read on this?”

Dr. Phillips shrugged. “The girl is non-verbal, and she won’t look at anyone straight on. That indicates autism.”

“She screamed like a banshee the first time I went near her,” Jason added. “Did that happen to anyone else?”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Drake. You know that old wives’ tale—children and dogs instinctively know the good guys from the bad guys,” Dr. Riser quipped.

Both Phillips and Riser laughed on cue.

Definitely too much group-think. He would need to change a team member soon.

“Actually, she’s opposed to all people touching her—except for Dr. Drake, right?” Stephanie said. Was she taking up the case for him, or just pointing out the fallacy in the other doctors’ observations?

In answer to her probing look, both Drs. Riser and Phillips nodded affirmation.

Stephanie drummed her fingers on the table. “Being non-verbal is also an indicator of a hearing deficiency. That could explain why she doesn’t look at the person speaking. She may be partially deaf and can’t figure out where the sound is coming from.”

Dr. Phillips smirked. “Dr. Drake checked her hearing and her reflex reaction at the same time.”

Stephanie would end up with a wrinkled forehead if she kept frowning like that. “What did you do?”

Dr. Riser answered for him. “Drake sneaked up behind the girl and dropped a food tray. The child jumped and turned around to look in the direction of the noise.”

Riser leaned back in his chair. “I thought the mother was going to take a swing at him. You may be a lot of things, Drake, but daddy material isn’t one of them. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had lodged a complaint. That’s all we need with the lawsuit ongoing right now.”

Jason saw a look of pain cross Stephanie’s face. Was the department’s legal problems causing her that much heartache?

Dr. Phillips nodded. “The lawyers need to settle it soon. The hospital’s credibility is suffering.”

Jason couldn’t help but agree. His own caseload was the lightest he’d seen since he’d been at Sheffield Memorial. Normally he had to turn down more cases than he accepted.

“Not the whole hospital. Just our department,” Riser clarified. “I hear you’re helping out in the E.R. now, Drake. I could put in a good word for you with one of the specialties, if you want.”

Jason brushed off Riser’s offer, along with his condescending tone. “No need. I’ve already turned them all down.”

Being certified in pediatrics, internal medicine and surgery, Jason had been asked to assist on every floor of the hospital—by the same staff who registered complaints when he overstepped their bureaucracy to save their patients.

Instead, since his residency in an inner-city free clinic had more than prepared him for the E.R., he’d agreed to help out his friend and department head Dr. Mike Tyler. While the pace was frantic at times, the cases had been fairly routine so far, and once his shift was over he was done. No getting lost in late nights, researching until he was too exhausted to think.

The lack of complex problems to solve made getting over the infant’s loss more difficult. His modus operandi was to throw himself into his work. Or, for a while there, into Stephanie’s arms.

Now that option was gone, too. Hopefully, like the shortfall of patients, it would be a temporary problem.

It wasn’t just the sex.

They fit together mentally as well as physically. They laughed at the same obscure jokes, watched the same TV shows, liked the same food, and best of all they communicated on the same wavelength. Stephanie got him. She really got him. And he got her, too.

He’d never experienced that kind of compatibility before. He’d bet a back-rub, followed by a front-rub would fix them both right up without either of them having to say a word between them. If she’d just give their relationship a chance.

Relationship? That was a pretty strong word.

“Let’s get back to Maggie.”

Relationship. Put intimate in front of that and Jason could live with it. In fact he could live with it a lot better than he could live without it.

“Anyone have anything further to add?”

Stephanie shrugged her shoulders, as if shrugging off her worries.

“Macular degeneration,” she said. “Have you tested Maggie’s sight? Having only peripheral vision would explain the child’s lack of eye contact.”

“Possible.” Jason agreed.

Stephanie was so brilliant. He loved being around her. Love? Another strong word. This time purely used as a figure of speech. Love wasn’t in his scope of training.

“I’ll order the test. Anything else?”

Dr. Phillips’ phone vibrated.

He scowled, letting her know how he felt about the interruption.

She checked the display, then rose. “I can’t stay.”

Dr. Riser’s phone buzzed, too. He grimaced an apology as he glanced at his watch. “An appointment.”

At noon? Both of them?

Jason would bet his lunch they’d preplanned this mutiny so they wouldn’t have to skip another noon break.

Yes, he worked his team hard. Anyone who partnered with him needed to show unflagging dedication, and a missed meal on occasion was part of the package.

Riser and Phillips headed for the door.

Stephanie stood, too. But she didn’t make a move to leave. “Dr. Drake, could I speak privately with you for a moment?”

Dr. Drake? She only addressed him so formally in front of patients, or on occasion in bed.

“Of course.” He closed the door to the conference room.

So she was finally ready to forgive him for missing dinner the weekend before last. It was about time. She’d ignored him for two whole weeks. Though, to be fair, she’d been away for one of them for a directors’ conference.

“We both know how quickly rumors spread in this hospital. I need this to be kept confidential between you and me.”

Jason’s expectations crashed. Stephanie had been worried that their relationship might cause problems with their work. If she suggested they carry on covertly he would refuse. He wouldn’t be anyone’s dirty little secret.

“Stephanie, we’re two consenting adults. What goes on between the two of us—”

“This is strictly business, Dr. Drake.” A fleeting expression of something—sorrow?—crossed her eyes before she blinked it away. “We now have an open position in Diagnostics. I would like your opinion on several of our prospects before I contact them for discussion.”

She thought about the pulmonary doctor’s resignation, locked away in her desk drawer. Now, with Sheffield Memorial’s name on the verge of making the gossip rags and tabloids, was not a good time to be enticing new doctors into the hospital. Hopefully Jason’s involuntary sacrifice would put a stop to the talk.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Absolutely.” Jason’s lips twisted into a cynical grimace. “Let’s eliminate the candidates that might claim to have sham appointments during consultation meetings first. We’ve already got two doctors like that.”

“Drs. Phillips and Riser’s fake pages were rather immature, weren’t they? I’ve talked to both of them about being firm and telling you they aren’t at their best when they work through lunch, but they’re intimidated by you.”

“Intimidated? Why?”

“You’re so intense.”

“I’m focused.”

“Yes, you are.” Too focused—to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. “No one can refute your dedication to medicine, Dr. Drake.”

He used his work as a shield, to keep everyone at a distance. While she had glimpsed the deep sensitivity Jason covered with sarcastic scowls and a cutting wit, she needed more than an occasional lapse in cynicism. She needed a man with a whole heart as well as an exceptional brain and outstanding body.

“You’re not intimidated by me.”

She laughed, but it came out bitter. “Remember who my father is. Dr. William Montclair is known the world over for his intensity of purpose. And my mother isn’t a slouch in that department, either.”

Jason waved away the mention of the formidable Dr. William Montclair and his spouse, Dr. Clarice Sheffield-Montclair.

“We’re good together, Stephanie.”

Yes, they were. She could smell his cologne, feel his body heat. His tone made her quiver to the core. Instinctively she felt herself leaning toward him.

She licked her lips.

His eyes followed her movement, like a cat ready to pounce. Intense didn’t begin to cover it.

She missed him so desperately, even if he was bad medicine. Being in a room alone with him was not a good thing for her. He was like an addiction. A quick high when they were wrapped arm-in-arm, followed by a debilitating low when he detached and became solitary again.

Which he’d done as soon as she’d tried to take their relationship to a deeper level.

“Jason, I’d prefer to keep things professional at the hospital.” Staying firm in her decision to stay apart took all her will-power—especially when he made no secret of the fact he wanted her.

That would end as soon as he found out about the baby.

“And impersonal outside the hospital. I got that from the phone message you left me. Did I say something to offend you?” He looked into her eyes as if he were trying to look into her head—or her heart. Without question, he had immense intensity.

“No, it wasn’t anything you said.”

While he’d certainly offended everyone else who’d ever walked through the hospital doors, he’d never offended her. He was egotistical, stubborn, overbearing and totally without tact, but she understood him. She could handle all his bad qualities, but she couldn’t handle his inability to open himself up to her, his inability to put her first at least on occasion.

“Is this about the missed dinner date? I explained that I needed to read through the lab results so I would know if I needed to order additional tests. Did I do something wrong?” he challenged, certain that another medically related reason would excuse him.

“Other than all those other missed dinner dates and all those refusals to accompany me to social functions? No, you did nothing wrong.” Nothing but be himself. But then he’d done nothing right—outside the bedroom.

The night he’d missed their dinner—the dinner during which she had planned to tell him about their baby—had been the breaking point. As she had scraped the congealed gourmet meal into the trash, blown out the candles and exchanged her negligee for her favorite oversized T-shirt and gym shorts, she’d known she couldn’t fool herself any longer.

Swathed in her flannel robe, she’d settled in on the couch, hoping. Yet she’d known he wouldn’t show. This was how her baby’s life would be if she married him. Always waiting for Daddy to come home. She’d lived it with both her parents, feeling guilty all the while for resenting the time they spent with sick children while she’d been well and healthy. And alone.

I’ll not do that to you, little one. I’ll be here for you, any time you need me.

She wasn’t quite sure how she would accomplish that yet, but there had to be a way to balance home life with hospital life.

She took a long look at Jason. He just wasn’t the home-and-hearth type. Anything that couldn’t be analyzed under a microscope had no place in his life.

Jason raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I really see no reason for you to kick me out of your personal life just because I turned down a gala or two, choosing the art of medicine over the act of socializing. Faux fawning is not what I majored in during med school.”

He hid his hurt behind his bristling posture.

She had thought they were beyond that. That he had stopped using the mask with her. Maybe they had been before she’d called it quits between them.

“This isn’t about the parties.”

He’d said more than once that he didn’t do emotions, but he’d lied. He’d shown her plenty of passion. And for a while there she had thought he’d also shown her caring and concern and an occasional glimpse of vulnerability. Maybe it had only been in her imagination to start with.

Now it didn’t matter. He’d known she’d needed to talk. She’d told him it was important. Standing her up for dinner had been a non-verbal response louder than a shout. She just wasn’t enough for him to step outside his comfort zone.

If he wouldn’t risk his emotions for her then he wouldn’t for his child, either.

“But you just said—” He dropped the attitude. “I don’t understand, Stephanie.”

This was a huge admission when he prided himself on his intellect. He really didn’t understand.

“Jason, I want more.” She reached out to him, then pulled her hand back before she could make contact. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

Jason rolled his eyes at the platitude.

It was her. They’d both agreed from the beginning that neither wanted a serious relationship. Jason would readily admit that his work was his mistress.

She had breached her part of the bargain and taken this much further than an informal friendship with bedroom benefits.

Then, that night at his cabin in the mountains, when they’d lain on his porch looking into the black sky at the pinpoints of stars above, he’d reached for her hand and she’d known. His touch had made more than her skin tingle. It had made her soul vibrate in accord with his. Life and love had flowed through their clasped hands, intertwining their hearts.

That was when she’d known, Jason filled a place inside her that no one else ever could—a place in her heart made just for him from the moment she was born.

Being honest with herself, she’d known their relationship had been destined to become more from the start—at least for her. She didn’t do casual sex—and, as guarded as Jason had always been about his dating life, she was sure he didn’t either.

But then neither did he do commitment. And raising a child took more commitment than a dozen medical degrees.

Destiny didn’t guarantee happily-ever-after, and now she had a child to think about.

That was why she’d had to break it off with him, even though it had broken her heart. She might be able to suffer through a casual come-and-go relationship, but she would never subject her child to that kind of pain and uncertainty.

She needed to create a stable environment that would surround and protect her child with love. She was prepared to do that. She had the financial means, the emotional capacity, and by the time her child was born she would have her work-life in perspective, too.

Now was the time. Before she burst into hormonal tears she needed to tell him about the baby and then walk away.

Now. She should tell him now, while she had his undivided attention. “Jason, I need—”

His phone vibrated. He held up a finger to wait.

“Drake here,” he answered. Not a word wasted on social niceties. “No, Doctor, I can take your call. We’ve played tag trying to communicate long enough.”

His eyes clouded as he looked through her. Another medical matter taking precedence over her. Was it too much to ask to be first? To know that their child would be first in Jason’s life if only for a second?

Yes. It was too much to ask. While Jason was devoted to the practice of medicine, extending such devotion to a personal relationship was beyond his capabilities. She had to resign herself to that.

She reached for her lab coat, flailing to find the armhole. He’d been so eager to help her off with it, but he didn’t even notice her struggle now.

Nor did he notice when she slipped out, silently shutting the consultation room door behind her.

CHAPTER THREE

JASON kept his hand tightly wrapped around his phone to keep from reaching out and holding Stephanie back—pulling her close to him and never letting her go.

He used all his discipline to concentrate on the question the doctor at the Mayo Clinic was asking. “Dr. Drake, do we have a bad connection?”

“No, I hear you. I’m thinking.” He reviewed the question he’d been asked. “Have you considered a gluten sensitivity? They disguise themselves in a multitude of ways, and many of your patient’s symptoms match, even though the test results might not indicate a full-blown allergic reaction. I suggest a gluten-free diet for the next fourteen days. Be sure to record behavioral changes as well as antibody levels.”

“I need—” she’d said. Jason wanted to fulfill that need, whatever it was. But he was pretty sure her need was emotional, and he knew his limitations. He was good at understanding bodies, not emotions. If anyone knew that about him she did. She knew him better than he knew himself most of the time.

How could he give her something he didn’t understand?

“I’ll give it a try.”

Jason was vaguely aware the phone line had gone dead at the other end.

It had begun so simply. A late night of research after the rest of his team had left for their family obligations.

Stephanie had gotten comfortable, kicked off her shoes and replaced her contacts with glasses.

Then she’d noticed his stiff neck, from hours spent hunched over the computer terminal, and offered to massage the ache away.

But the massage had backfired. Instead of relieving his tension, her hands had set him on fire.

Unable to concentrate on the case any longer, they’d called it a night.

But fate had intervened. In the parking lot she’d pulled up next to his motorcycle as he’d been about to strap on his helmet. The light mist of early evening had been turning into a heavy drizzle.

“Want a ride?” she asked.

“Sure.” He thought—hoped—she offered more than transportation, but he wasn’t sure until he climbed into her red low-slung sports car and she gave him the choice. “My place or yours?”

The whole moment felt like a clichéd scene from a nineteen-fifties film noir, but it was effective nonetheless.

Stephanie cooked a meal—of sorts. She shoved a frozen foil tray of lasagna into the oven, set the temperature, and handed him a bottle of Chianti and a corkscrew.

After popping the cork, he stripped off Stephanie’s high heels, one by one, letting his fingers do a slow examination from her toes to the arches of her feet to her very sensitive ankles. As he ran his thumb along the arch of her foot, she moaned and arched her back, emphasizing the peaks of her magnificent breasts.

He explored the erogenous and sensitive anklebone, circling his finger until her breath came in short wisps. Her passion brought out the hero in him. He wanted to find a dragon to slay to keep her eyes shining in admiration.

Her hands fluttered to his chest and along his shoulders. A low, deep growl started deep inside him as his hunger for her built.

Her usually graceful fingers fumbled at the edge of her sweater as she tried to pull if off. He helped, covering her hands with his own. His own breath caught as he revealed her silky skin hidden underneath.

As if she were shy, she held back as long as she could, but by the time he reached the band of her thong she was ripping off his shirt and tugging at his belt.

They’d ended up overcooking the lasagna and washing it down with too much wine. And he’d never slept so peacefully as that night in her arms.

He and Stephanie had been of one mind: they were the perfect high-stress couple. They enjoyed each other’s company, enjoyed the mutual benefits of an exciting sex-life and understood neither of them had room for more than a series of one-night stands.

That had been at first, but he’d soon figured out that Stephanie wasn’t the kind of woman that a man could treat casually. He’d tried his best to treat her as well as she deserved. She was a prize, a hidden treasure.

And he’d prized knowing that she wore a kinky thong under her skirts and tailored trousers. He’d prized even more the fact that he was the only one who knew.

Or at least he had been the only one.

Obviously his best hadn’t been good enough.

Who was that soft glow for? Was she dating someone already?

No. As fast as word traveled throughout the hospital, he would have heard. Wouldn’t he?

And why was he still dwelling on it? He’d broken off relationships before, quickly and cleanly with no regrets.

That their break-up bothered him at all was a clue that their relationship had mutated into more than he had intended. He probably would have insisted they take a step or two backward himself if she hadn’t called it off between them. Probably.

But a total severance of the relationship was a bit extreme.

Stephanie didn’t need to amputate the head to cure the headache, did she? What was wrong with the “two aspirin and call me in the morning” approach?

He knew she’d been under severe pressure ever since their department had been hit with the big lawsuit. He could understand how she could be overwhelmed. But lawsuits settled down eventually. She would come back to him in due course if only he could find the patience to wait. Right?

And she was definitely worth the wait.

Until then he would bury himself in his work.

He smiled in anticipation as he cranked up his music. Pulling up a half-dozen resources on his computer screen, he reviewed Maggie’s list of symptoms.

Exhilaration coursed through his veins as he lost himself in the hunt for the elusive answer. Yes, unraveling the mysteries of medicine was what he’d been born for.

Everything else was secondary.

Why, then, did memories of Stephanie naked in his bed keep distracting him from his purpose in life?

Once safely behind her office door, Stephanie let her shoulders sag. That was twice she’d tried to tell him about the baby and twice he’d let duty distract him.

Maybe she should send him a text message.

Or maybe she should say nothing at all. He’d notice soon enough anyway.

He was one of the topmost recognized diagnosticians in the country. She was surprised he hadn’t already guessed. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

If he asked, she’d tell the truth. Otherwise it wasn’t as if she wanted or needed anything from him. She had the monetary capacity to take care of her child herself. And she was determined to have the nurturing capacity, too. Unlike Jason Drake.

After her rallying self-talk she expected to feel strong. Instead she just felt lonely.

She pushed the button on the intercom. “Marcy, has my dress been delivered yet?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it in.”

“Thanks.”

Marcy gave a perfunctory knock on the door before coming in, carrying the dress covered by a garment bag. “The seamstress sends apologies but she wasn’t able to let the dress out at all.”

“I was worried about that. I’ll just have to wear it as is.” She should have checked her wardrobe sooner, but hadn’t realized how much her body was changing until last night, when trying on her formal wear.

“Could I see it?” asked Marcy.

“Sure.” Stephanie unzipped the bag.

Cocktail-length, red, sequined, halter-topped and backless. She’d originally bought the dress for an Independence Day gala. Now it was the only one that still fit her swollen breasts. It stretched much tighter across her torso and her derriere, too, giving her a vintage Marilyn Monroe look that she’d never had before.

“Wow! That will make a statement.”

Since the dress was so much glitzier than the pale, elegant chiffons she usually wore, it was sure to raise eyebrows among those who knew her. Being dateless, she would have to stand up to the scrutiny all by herself—a test of her self-confidence and poise.

She might as well get used to her single state. She would not be dating anyone for a long while.

She did not need another complication in her life, and she’d never been the kind of woman who had to appear on a man’s arm to make herself feel confident.

Although she had to admit she’d had her fantasies about Jason Drake.

“I bought it two months ago for the big Independence Day celebration and ended up not going. But tonight, with our supermodel and her friends in attendance, I thought it might be appropriate.”

When Stephanie had originally tried it on she’d indulged in a bit of daydreaming, imagining the look of desire in Jason’s eyes as she took off her evening stole.

She had intended to invite him to a white tie evening of fine dining, a full-scale orchestra and fireworks viewed from the rooftop of a prominent hotel to celebrate Independence Day.

Of course imagining Jason even accompanying her had been a fantasy. Every formal function she’d asked him to attend he’d cancelled on her, or flat-out turned her down.

“Dr. Drake is going to drag you back to his cave when he sees you in this,” Marcy said.

“Why would you think I was going with Dr. Drake?”

Marcy looked puzzled, then embarrassed. “I thought that break-up thing was just a rumor to throw off everyone at the hospital. He bought a ticket at the head table next to you as soon as I put out the invitation list two weeks ago.”

“He did?” Stephanie couldn’t imagine why. “Marcy, are you sure? Attending galas and balls is not on Dr. Drake’s list of favorite pastimes. He’s probably never put on a tux in his life.”

“Not that he needs one.” Marcy grinned. “Scrubs suit him just fine.”

Yes, they did. More than that, they defined him. He was a medical professional inside and out. She should know. She’d seen him both ways.

Stephanie turned away to hide her reaction to memories of Jason both in and out of his scrubs.

“Thanks, Marcy, for bringing in my dress.” As she rezipped the garment bag she couldn’t stop herself from imagining how Jason’s hand on her back would feel as he unzipped the dress for her.

What would he look like in a tux, tie hanging loose around his neck, pearl buttons undone enough to show the firmness of his well-defined pecs?

Of course she would enjoy removing any type of clothing he wore. She had loved peeling off his scrub shirt that first time.

And the feel of his well-washed T-shirt, still warm from his body, wrapped around her own body … It gave her quivers just thinking about it.

Jason wore casual clothes with the charismatic attitude of the ultimate bad boy. The aged jeans and T-shirts he wore after work and on weekends molded to his rebellious personality as well as his athletic shape.

All those hours he spent scaling mountains and fighting white-water rapids made for sure-footed grace and iron-hard muscles.

In a moment of passion, she’d asked to go with him one weekend. When he suggested an Independence Day campout instead of the gala she’d traded in high heels for hiking boots, eaten charbroiled burgers to the music of night birds, then watched the stars pop against a velvet sky. She’d never seen anything so spectacular.

That was the weekend the baby had been conceived.

With great self-control, Stephanie turned her thoughts from fantasy to reality.

There would be no happy little traditional family for her child. But Stephanie knew from first-hand experience that the traditional two-parent family didn’t automatically equal a happy childhood. Not when the parents couldn’t find time for their child.

Without thinking, her hand drifted to her round belly. Her child would never suffer for lack of parental attention. She would make sure of it.

After an hour of distraction when he should have been researching, Jason headed downstairs to the E.R. for some advice. His friend Mike had had a similar dilemma only a year ago. Apparently he’d figured things out, since he was now married with a new baby.

He and Mike Tyler had been roommates after Mike had answered his ad for a roommate to share expenses during pre-med. Although neither of them were big conversationalists, after years of rooming, which had lasted through pre-med, medical school and residency, Mike was the closest friend Jason had. Mike had introduced Jason to hiking and rafting all those years ago, giving him an effective outlet for letting off steam and finding an occasional glimpse of inner peace.

Now Mike worked the E.R. at Sheffield Memorial, thriving on the excitement, while Jason preferred the details and intrigue of diagnostics and research.

Both he and Mike had come a long way since they’d had to share one winter coat between the two of them in their younger days.

Last year Mike had married into an instant family of two girls and a boy, along with a beautiful, witty wife who’d just given birth to their son eight weeks ago.

Somehow Mike made it work.

Jason waited while Mike examined a chef’s gashed forefinger and ordered a tetanus shot along with a couple of stitches.

When Mike was finally free, Jason asked, “You up for a hike this weekend? I’ve got some relationship questions to ask you.”

A good, hard climb in the crisp mountain air would clear his head.

“Can’t. I’ve got to take the five-year-old to a birthday party. Tea party theme. The birthday girl’s father has promised grownup drinks for the parents while we wait.” He sighed, but his eyes sparkled with happiness. “The sacrifices of fatherhood.”

Jason couldn’t imagine himself at a little girl’s birthday party, making small talk with other parents. Even the thought of being so domestically entrapped made him fidget.

“We’ve got the waiting room cleared out. Ask me now.”

Jason shifted from foot to foot, then just blurted it out. “When a woman says she needs more, what does she mean?”

“More, huh? That’s a tricky one.” Mike rubbed his chin. “Are we talking about Dr. Montclair?”

Jason chose to ignore the smirk Mike didn’t bother to hide. “Yes. Who else would it be?”

“She strikes me as a straightforward woman. Why don’t you ask her for specifics?”

Jason thought that one over. By his evaluation, their latest conversation hadn’t been too straightforward.

“You’re not much help.”

“Guys generally aren’t when it comes to women. Why don’t you come by the house on Sunday and ask Caroline? She’s good at this sort of thing.”

“Caroline doesn’t like me.”

“She’s forgiven you.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Never tell a pregnant woman she should cut back on the chocolate, even if she should. The closer they get to their due dates, the testier they get.”

“Lesson learned.”

A nurse peeked into the lounge. “Dr. Tyler, we’ve got a patient for you.”

Jason took the stairs two at a time, but the dank, enclosed staircase didn’t give him what he needed.

He needed to work off some excess energy in the fresh air and sunshine. Wide open spaces normally cleared his cramped brain.

For safety reasons Jason never hiked alone. But he was tempted to risk it. That was what women did—made men do foolish things.

No, he wouldn’t risk going it alone with no one to call on for help. No woman was worth being stuck stranded on a mountain with a broken leg. Or a broken heart.

No. Not a broken heart. He would have to love Stephanie for that to happen, and he’d promised long ago to never be that foolish again.

Stephanie’s phone rang, showing Jason’s office number. He never called. He was a face-to-face kind of guy. Warily, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Stephanie, when you said you needed …” He paused, giving Stephanie time to catch up with his one-sided conversation. “What is it you need?”

What should she answer? I need you to show me your heart? I need you to love me? I need you to put me first in your life? “I need you to attend a sensitivity training class.”

“A what?”

“A sensitivity class.”

“Why?”

“You’ve got another complaint filed against you, I’m afraid.” Yes, that sounded nice and businesslike. Stephanie was rather proud of her control.

“So?”

“So the hospital is being very careful about these things nowadays, particularly because of the lawsuit. The class is mandatory.”

“Or what? You’ll fire me?”

At the thought of never seeing Jason again Stephanie felt her stomach drop. “No, Jason. Of course not—not you, anyway. But showing that we insist upon a consistent policy will help with the lawsuit and our malpractice insurance. I need you to cooperate with me.”

“What’s the complaint?”

“Mrs. Canover said you were rude to her.”

“Remembering Mrs. Canover, I would have to agree with her.”

“Jason, we’ve discussed this before. A large part of patient care is attitude. We treat the whole patient and the family, not just the illness.”

“No, that’s not in my job description. My job is to find the problem and fix it. Has Mrs. Canover’s son had a relapse? Difficulty breathing? Rash? Fever? Sore throat?”

“No. None of that. Her son is recovering nicely.”

“Then what’s her complaint?”

“Did you really tell her she should stick with growing African Violets instead of children?”

“The woman demanded that I give her three-year-old son allergy shots twice a week rather than getting rid of her house-plants. What would you have said?” Jason had been staggered when the woman had refused to give up the prize-winning African Violets that had been passed down through generations for the health of her son, and hadn’t hesitated to give his opinion.

Frankly, Stephanie agreed. But, as her grandmother insisted, there was a polite way to say everything. “I’m not sure, but I probably wouldn’t have implied she was as dumb as the dirt in her violet pots.”

“Who will take care of my patients while I’m stuck in a classroom being lectured to by an idiot who has never diagnosed an illness in his life?”

“You will. I’ve scheduled the class for your off hours this weekend.”

“I’ve already got plans.”

An unexpected spike of jealousy shot through Stephanie. The thought of Jason with another woman sent her temples to pounding.

Not good for the baby, she reminded herself. She took a deep breath. “Cancel them. I’m sure your date will understand. After all, you’re a doctor. Any woman who makes plans with you should expect to be flexible.”

“Just because we agreed to see other people doesn’t mean I am.” He lowered his voice a half-octave, probably because he knew how she liked that. “I was hoping you might want to get away this weekend. We could go to my cabin. We haven’t been up there since Independence Day. I could make lasagna.”

“Our personal relationship is over, remember?”

“Stephanie, just because our sexual liaison is over it doesn’t mean—” He swallowed hard enough for her to hear him. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”

His voice sounded strained. As honest and forthright as he was, he wasn’t good at voicing what others wanted to hear.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that to get me back into your bed, aren’t you?”

“Busted.” He sounded awkward, sheepish. “You’ve got to admit we’re awesome together.”

She looked up, as if searching for an answer in the ceiling tiles. “Jason—”

“I know you have a lot going right now, Stephanie. We could both use a little fun to put things into perspective.” He sounded serious. “No strings. No commitments. Just a weekend away. A glass of wine under the stars and a few laughs between friends.”

That had been more than enough for her only a few short months ago.

They had shared some fun times. His quirky sense of humor was right in line with hers. Together they had snickered and chortled at things the rest of the world didn’t get. It had felt good to be understood.

“There’s more to life than grins and giggles, Jason.”

She took off her glasses to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll email you the details on the class.”

Stephanie spent the rest of the afternoon familiarizing herself with Jason’s patient files, all the while marveling at his brilliance. His reports made for fascinating reading. They were thorough and detailed—and, best of all, unbiased. He didn’t slant the facts to support his hypotheses, and he included details of wrong assumptions as readily as right ones.

While all doctors were supposed to be this objective, Stephanie had never found one whose ego didn’t shade the facts at least a little bit until Jason.

Lost in work, she didn’t realize the time until Marcy buzzed her over the intercom. “Just letting you know I’m leaving for the day. Should I bring in your messages?”

“Yes, please.” Stephanie glanced at her watch. Where had the time gone?

Marcy brought in a fistful of messages and notes to be returned and laid them in the in-box on Stephanie’s desk.

Stephanie gave them a casual glance. “Anything urgent?”

“Just the usual. Dr. Sim in Obstetrics wants you to set up an appointment with her. She didn’t mention the topic of discussion. Do I need to get information on the meeting agenda?”

“No, Dr. Sim and I have talked previously.” Soon everyone would know why she had appointments with the obstetrician. But not tonight. Tonight her baby was still her little secret.

Stephanie folded that particular note and slipped it into her lab coat’s pocket. “Anything else?”

“Another in-house complaint against Dr. Drake.”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

“Yes, I’m sure it can. And your mother’s personal assistant called. Should she send the car here for you tonight?”

Stephanie thought of answering no, saying she would drive herself. But she suddenly drooped with exhaustion—mentally as well as physically. She didn’t know how late it would be before she could gracefully exit the Baby Isaac Benefit.

While she had intended to run home to do make-up and hair, the drive would steal minutes from her day. She could pin her ponytail into a ballerina bun, and she had sufficient cosmetics to do an acceptable make-up job here at the office. That way she could squeeze in a much-needed rest first.

While she didn’t have a lot of time for a nap, she didn’t need a lot. Just a few minutes to prop up her feet and close her eyes.

As a resident, she had perfected the art of napping. Fifteen minutes had always been enough to restore her flagging energy and weary mind.

“Tell her yes. I would appreciate having the car sent here. And keep my office phone on hold.”

As soon as Marcy left Stephanie dimmed the lights, kicked off her shoes and settled onto her couch.

When she heard the bing from her computer that let her know she’d received an email, she ignored it. Unlike her parents and her ex-lover, she knew how to manage her priorities, and right now a quick nap was at the top of her list.

Only six o’clock and she felt as if she could sleep through to the morning. Too many late nights, early mornings, and busy days in between were taking their toll. She needed to take a long look at her schedule and eliminate non-essential functions for the next several months. Possibly longer. It was time to take care of herself.

At least for fifteen minutes.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, her office door burst open, slamming back on its hinges.

“When were you going to tell me?” Jason demanded, more emotion in his face than she had ever seen. Unfortunately that emotion was anger—at her.

Sitting up too quickly made her light-headed. She blinked through the spots as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Caught off-guard, she thought fast before leading with her most calming reassurance. “I’ll take care of everything. There’s nothing you need to do.”

He waved a computer printout in front of her. “You’ve already done enough, don’t you think? How much was my reputation worth?”

“What?” Stephanie scrunched her toes, feeling vulnerable in her bare feet. Reaching up from the couch, she grabbed the emailed page from his hand and scanned enough to see the hospital’s law firm was informing all named parties of their agreement. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He grabbed the back of a chair, his knuckles white. “Do you believe I did anything negligent to cause that baby’s death?”

“No. Of course not.”

Was that relief she saw in his eyes as they settled into a less turbulent gray?

“Then why, Stephanie? Why make me the scapegoat?”

“To protect the hospital.” She stood, feeling vulnerable again with him standing over her as she sat on the couch. Still, shoeless, her standing didn’t make much difference. “Sheffield Memorial would have been gravely injured in the media circus they were threatening. Our lawyers felt that even if we won the lawsuit—which was unlikely—we would still lose in public opinion, which means funding and research grants and patients.

We’ve already seen some of that come true. Instead Isaac’s parents settled for an internal investigation, with the doctor responsible for Isaac’s death being officially sanctioned.”

“Sanctioned? How so?”

“I oversee all your cases personally.”

“I’ve got a standing invitation to join the Mayo Clinic. Maybe it’s time I accepted their offer.”

“Why haven’t you already?”

Wasn’t that what she wanted? Jason out of her life?

“I thought I had everything I wanted here.”

Did that mean her? Or only Sheffield Memorial.

Sheffield needed him. It was her duty to try to keep him.

What about the baby? She pushed away that intrusive thought. She would never use her child to bind Jason in any way.

“It’s only for a while. Six months or so.” She tried to placate him. Then she would be on maternity leave and someone else would supervise his work for the next six months. But she would save that for later.

“Anything else? Does this settlement come with other repercussions you haven’t seen fit to reveal to me? Or should I wait for the email?”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.