The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

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.