About the Baby

“Ha-ha.” She elbowed him in the stomach. “We can stand up and go say good-night. But I’ve got to tell you, your sisters look like women on a mission. If we go talk to them, I don’t think we’re getting out of here anytime soon.”

She watched as he poked his head above the hedge and checked out the way his sisters were storming the terrace. And though the guests had been trickling home for the past half an hour or so, there were still enough people around that they had gathered quite an entourage behind them.

“I think you’re right,” he finally said.

“So what do you want to do? Stay and talk to them or make a run for it?” She braced herself for the first answer—after all, Lucas didn’t know how to shirk responsibility. And though she was disappointed their little game would end, she was just pleased he’d played along with her this long. Lucas didn’t have enough fun in his life, and lately, neither had she.

She was so convinced that their little game of hide-and-seek was over that when he said, “Let’s make a run for it,” it took a few seconds for the words to register.

“Seriously?” she asked him after she managed to close her mouth.

He grinned. “Last one to the lobby is a rotten egg.”

CHAPTER TWO

KARADIDN’TANSWERHIS challenge right away, though Lucas did see her relax a little in relief. Instead, she crept forward to the edge of the bushes, one small step at a time. But the second she reached the pathway that circled around to the front of the hotel, she was off and running, sprinting down the trail to the hotel’s front door.

He was hot on her heels, could have beaten her easily—she was in four-inch stilettos, after all. But he was enjoying the view of her long legs and curvy ass in her short, tight red dress too much to rush ahead. She might be his best friend, and off-limits because of it, but he was still a man and it was a hell of a view. Besides, Kara was laughing, the melancholy exhaustion of earlier long gone, and he was definitely willing to finish second if it meant keeping the smile on her face.

“I won!” she exclaimed the second he turned the corner to the valet parking area.

“I noticed.”

“So what’s my prize?”

“A ride home?” he asked, fishing in his pocket for his valet ticket.

She made a disparaging sound. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It kind of is.”

“Careful, Lucas, you’re getting staid in your old age.”

“You are aware that we’re exactly the same age,” he reminded her, reaching out to yank on one of her flame-red curls.

She kicked off her shoes, scooped them up. “Yeah, but I’m not an old fuddy-duddy.”

“I’m not boring.” He knew she was just joking, but the accusation stung a little. It hit too close to home, he supposed. It was too similar to what his family told him regularly.

“I never said you were boring,” she said, snatching his keys out of his hand and dropping them into her red-beaded clutch. “But I figure we can do better than a ride home. That diner with the apple pie is just up the street. I say we go for it.”

She started walking and he found himself following along behind her. That apple pie did sound good—and maybe the chance to relax over dessert would get Kara talking. Because as much as he’d enjoyed being a part of her absurd little getaway, Kara was only ever this crazy when something was very wrong. Through the years, he’d learned there was an inverse correlation between the two. The more upset Kara was, the more lighthearted and silly she’d act. And while he was happy to go along for the ride, at some point she was going to run out of gas and he had every intention of being there for her when she did.

As they walked, Kara bombarded him with questions. How’s the clinic? How’s life? How’s your family? He let her get away with the inane small talk, though he knew it was more about keeping the focus on him and off herself than it was about stuff they’d already covered. But sometimes keeping the peace was more important than getting to the bottom of things right away. Life with a histrionic mother and two high-maintenance sisters had taught him that.

Besides, this was Kara. She’d never been able to keep a secret from him in her life and he had no intention of letting her do so now. If he didn’t push, she’d eventually loosen up and it would all come spilling out. And if it didn’t…well, then he’d push.

Still, though they’d walked together a million times—through the deserted midnight streets of downtown Atlanta as well as a hundred other places—something felt off tonight. Like there was something between them and they weren’t quite connecting, though the rhythm of their speech was as relaxed as always.

It made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t been able to count on much in his life—more often than not the clinic was one short budget cut away from extinction and since his father had died, he was the one his family turned to for just about everything. But Kara was different. She was the one person he could always count on to be there for him and to be straight with him. He couldn’t stand the idea that there was something she wasn’t sharing with him, something that was bothering her that she wasn’t letting him help with. He’d just made up his mind to ask her what was going on when she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked up at the pocket of midnight sky that wasn’t blocked by buildings.

“It’s a beautiful night—not too hot or humid yet,” she said.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Now we’re going to talk about the weather?”

“Not really. I was just making conversation.” She never took her eyes from the sky, and finally he glanced up, too, trying to figure out what she found so interesting. But it was the same sky they always saw. “You can’t see any stars from here,” he finally told her. “The lights are too bright.”

She sighed. “I know. I kind of like that.”

“Since when? You’ve been into stargazing as long as I’ve known you. God knows, we did enough of it in college.”

“We did do a lot of it. I used to love driving out to the middle of nowhere with you, staring up at that infinite sky, bursting with possibilities.”

“So what’s changed?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. “Or everything. You know, in Somalia, the sky is so wide-open. It goes on for miles and miles. When I was there, looking at it and feeling completely insignificant, it occurred to me that there’s something comforting about only being able to see this little bit of sky. You know what I mean?”

No, he really didn’t. He found the whole concept behind her explanation pretty damned depressing, actually. Not to mention it sounded nothing like the take-life-by-the-tail adventurer he knew her to be.

Trying to think over the clang of warning bells going off in the back of his mind, he decided delicacy be damned. He was getting to the bottom of this. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Kara?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You seem…troubled.”

She dropped her eyes back to his and smiled stiffly. “I told you, it’s the jet lag. I’m just a little off.”

If this was a little, he’d hate to see a lot. “Do you want to go home?”

“No!” she answered forcefully, panic flashing before she tamped it down. “The diner’s up ahead.”

“I’m not really in the mood for pie.”

“Now those are words I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

He wanted to shake her, to demand that she tell him what was going on in her head. He knew it wasn’t the way to get it out of her, but part of him didn’t care. She was hurting and it was his job to make it better. It had always been his job, with everyone in his life. Why couldn’t Kara understand that and just let him help?

Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair before demanding, “Tell me, Kara. Whatever it is, spit it out.”

“Spit what out?” She looked confused, but under it all was a shade of panic that set off his own nerves.

“Are you sick?” he asked abruptly.

“What? No.”

“Were you hurt in Somalia?”

“Of course not. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Because you’re not talking to me. I want to know what’s put that bruised look in your eyes. And don’t,” he said as she opened her mouth to protest, “pretend that you have no idea what I’m talking about. It will only piss me off.”

* * *

KARASTAREDAT LUCAS, words welling up on her tongue that she had no idea how to say. Not to him when he wouldn’t understand. He always knew what he was doing, always had a plan. And once he’d made that plan, he stuck to it. No matter what. How could he understand that she was suddenly, deathly afraid that she couldn’t stick to the life plan she’d made for herself? Or worse, that she’d made a mistake ever thinking it was right for her?

No, she couldn’t tell him. Not now. She needed more time to figure it out in her own head, more time to decide what her options were before she asked him for his advice. With Lucas, it was always better to have a few backup plans in place before talking to him. Otherwise, he’d just take over and she’d find herself right back where she’d started.

Closing her eyes for a moment to clear her head, she opened them to find Lucas staring straight at her. Since she couldn’t meet his eyes, not when she was lying to him, she shifted her gaze behind her—and realized they’d stopped in front of her favorite park. Suddenly the idea of doing something mindless, something just for fun, appealed to her in a way nothing had for a very long time.

Was it absurd? Yes.

Was she going to do it, anyway? Absolutely.

Maybe it would buy her the time she needed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to say. Because the look in Lucas’s eye said he wasn’t going to let her get away with evading him for long. Not this time. Not tonight.

“Wanna swing?” she asked him, nodding to the park behind him.

“Swing?” It was like he’d never heard of the word.

“It’ll be fun.” She walked closer to the locked fence that kept the public out after eleven at night.

“Are you kidding me?” Lucas demanded. “I want to talk about what’s going on with you and you want to go play in the sandbox?”

“Swings, not sandbox,” she said, tossing her shoes over the fence before grabbing onto the fence and starting to climb. “Try to keep up.”

“I would if you weren’t completely insane.” He paused. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked, reaching for the top of the fence and pulling herself up. “I can’t leave my shoes here—those are my only pair of Jimmy Choos.”

“The park is closed!” he hissed.

“And your point is?”

“My point is, it’s closed. You can get arrested for trespassing, you know.”

“Give me a break. It’s a public park.” Hiking her dress up to the tops of her thighs, she climbed over the fence, careful of the iron spikes, then dropped down to the grass below. “Are you coming?” she asked, picking up her heels and pretending she didn’t care if he followed her or not.

Lucas sighed heavily and she could all but see his eye roll as he said, “Of course I’m coming. This is downtown Atlanta. God only knows what could happen to you in there.”

As he pulled himself up and over the fence in a couple of smooth, well-coordinated movements—much smoother and well-coordinated than her own—she refrained from reminding him that she’d managed to survive on her own in places a lot rougher than Atlanta. But the last thing she wanted was to bring her job into the conversation, not when she’d done everything in her power to avoid talking about it.

He dropped to the ground beside her. “So what do you want to do now?” he demanded, his voice put-upon. But he couldn’t hide his grin—or the dimple in his left cheek that only came when he was deeply amused by something.

“We’re in a park, Lucas. What do you think I want to do?” She grabbed his hand and took off, running full out down the grassy hill that led to the playground equipment. But about halfway down, she tripped over a sprinkler head. As she stumbled, Lucas tried to stop her fall and somehow they got all tangled up together. They hit the ground, hard, and then they were rolling down the hill, Lucas instinctively wrapping his arms around her to protect her.

They came to a stop against the side of a small gazebo, a few feet from the bottom of the hill. Lucas hit with an oomph, though she wasn’t sure if that was because he’d born the brunt of the hit or because she had landed on top of him.

Certain she wasn’t helping matters, she struggled to climb off him, but was so dizzy from the roll that she ended up straddling him, her head on his chest as she tried to keep the world around her from spinning. She glanced up at Lucas, who had a very disgruntled look on his face—like he couldn’t imagine that he had somehow been a part of anything so undignified. The absolute shock, mingled with the sight of his expression, made her throw her head back and giggle like crazy.

Immediately, his hand shot up to the back of her head, his fingers probing her scalp. “Did you hit your head?” he demanded, trying to sit up. Which wasn’t easy considering she was stretched out on top of him and laughing like a hyena.

“If you could see your face,” she sputtered, “you’d laugh, too.”

His left eyebrow rose in that adorably sardonic way of his, which only made her amusement harder to control. Within moments, he joined in and the two of them laughed themselves silly.

This was what she missed the most when she was working on location. Kara rolled onto her back and looked up at the slightly wider expanse of sky above them. She decided it wasn’t Chinese takeout or her big feather bed or access to a regular shower that she missed most—though a shower did run a close second. No, what she missed more than anything was Lucas.

Spending time with her other friends and colleagues was never as much fun as spending time with him. Oh, he walked the walk of the rich, Southern gentleman, but inside that smooth, slightly reserved exterior was a wicked sense of humor and an incredible capacity for fun. He didn’t show it to many people, and she couldn’t help being grateful that she was one of the chosen few he could let down his guard with.

“What now?” he finally asked when their laughter had quieted. “You want to fall off the monkey bars, maybe break your collarbone? Or should we go for something more sedate, like riding the merry-go-round till we puke?”

She reached over, rested a finger against the right corner of his mouth and pressed upward. “You need to smile when you say that stuff. Someone who doesn’t know you might think you’re serious.”

“I am serious. If we try hard enough, maybe we could hang ourselves on the swings.”

“Make fun of me all you want,” she said, swatting his shoulder. “But you have to admit this is a lot better than that stupid gala.”

“So is a root canal, darlin’, so don’t get too full of yourself.”

She went to smack him again but he moved lightning fast and caught her fist in his hand. His face turned serious. “You’ve been running an awful lot tonight, Kara. It’s time to settle down and tell me what it’s all about.”

Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the concern on his face, but in the end she couldn’t do it. Not when he was still holding her hand, his thumb stroking softly across the back of her palm.

“I can’t breathe. I just—I can’t…” Her breath caught on a sob she could no longer swallow down. It had been sitting there for days and weeks, maybe even months, waiting to escape. She tried to stop it—and the ones that came after it. The last thing Lucas needed was for her to turn into a basket case. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop the surge inside of her.

“Aw, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap.

She went without a struggle, letting him rock her as she sobbed out all her pain and frustration and fear. Her last few trips—to Colombia, Somalia and the Sudan—had been awful. So awful that there was a part of her, despite what she’d told Lucas earlier, that couldn’t imagine going back.

Sure, she could map the outbreak of the disease, figure out where it started and why. That helped people in the long run—she understood that. It was why she’d chosen to be an epidemiologist to begin with. But it didn’t do anything for people in the short-term and she wasn’t sure she could take it anymore, to watch people die terrible deaths in the hope that somehow she could save others two, five, ten years down the road.

Finally, she wore herself out, the crying subsiding to the occasional shudder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his tuxedo shirt, ashamed of her loss of control now that she was coming back to herself. Lucas had enough on his plate—the last thing she’d wanted to do was burden him with more.

For long seconds Lucas didn’t answer, just stroked her hair softly. She had pretty much given up on a response when he said, “You don’t need to be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

This time she was the one who took long seconds to answer. And when she finally did find her voice, the only words that came out were, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning, baby.”

She would, except at this point, she had no idea when that was.

CHAPTER THREE

“I’MTHINKINGOFLEAVING the CDC.”

He knew she was waiting for an exclamation of surprise or denial, and though he was shocked, he made sure not to show it. Instead, he just looked at her, waiting for an explanation.

“You know, I became an epidemiologist because I wanted to help people. I could have taken my medical degree and joined the Peace Corps or For the Children, but I wanted to do more than only treat the victims after the fact. I wanted to track viruses, to figure out how they start so we could prevent outbreaks from happening in the future.”

“And you don’t want to do that anymore?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to do that. It’s just—” She tried to find a way to explain what she was thinking. “You know, the locals have a phrase down there, one all the relief workers and mercenaries and warlords have adopted in the last few years. TIA. Do you know what it means?”

He shook his head.

“This is Africa.”

This time when she pulled against his arms, he let her go. It cost him, though. “I’m guessing that’s not a statement of pride?”

Her laugh cut like broken glass. “Not quite. Africa is…Africa. No matter what happens, no matter who tries to help or hurt, nothing really changes under the surface. One revolutionary group seizes control and another rises up to fight them. One drought ends and another natural disaster starts. One horrific virus goes dormant and another one takes its place. It’s a damn nightmare, one I’ve been caught in for ten years now.”

“I’m so sorry.” It was inadequate, but he had no idea what else he was supposed to say.

She didn’t answer, simply shrugged, shivered. Though he knew her trembling had more to do with her memories than it did the breeze in the night air, he slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, anyway.

“Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result,” she finally continued. “I wonder what he would say about our policies in Africa. I wonder what he would say about me. I do the same tests, run the same research, teach the same classes. It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference. There will always be war, always be poverty. And there sure as hell will always be disease.”

She stood, walked over to the man-made pond at the center of the park. Looked out over the dark, rippling water for long seconds. Even as he wondered what it was she was seeing out there, she added, “On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about losing my job anytime soon. Unless, or course, I totally flip out.”

“Are you worried about that happening?”

“Sorry—did I make the doctor nervous?” She glanced at him. “I’m fine, Lucas. No nervous breakdowns or splits from reality in my future.”

Her voice dropped and he had to strain to hear as she muttered to herself, “No matter how much I wish there was.”

The aside was one more blaring signal of her disillusionment. It was painful to listen to, especially when he remembered the wide-eyed girl she’d once been, determined to make a difference and ready to take on the whole world to do it. Usually he could still find that idealistic girl under the pain and cynicism that came with ten years of public health work, but tonight she was MIA. All he could see when he looked at Kara now was the horror that came from taking on disaster after disaster—and losing, again and again and again.

Not that he blamed her for being tired or angry or heartsick. It had been years since he’d set foot in

Africa—he’d made the choice to put all his efforts and resources into his clinic instead—but that didn’t mean he didn’t remember the utter hopelessness and heartbreaking beauty of the people and the place. The two years he’d spent there, fresh out of medical school, had been the best and worst of his life. He’d often wondered how Kara held it together so well. Now he knew—she didn’t. She just looked like she did.

It was the last thing he wanted for her.

“I’m sorry, Kara,” he repeated, knowing even as he did that it was a useless sentiment.

She shook her head. “It is what it is.”

“What it is, sucks.”

“Yeah.” She started to shrug it off, but even in the dim light of the park, he could see when she decided not to. There was a change to her face, an opening of it that he hadn’t even realized was missing until he saw it happen. “It hurts. The children—” Her voice broke. “This time was bad, Lucas. It was really, really bad.”

“I know, baby.”

“You don’t know. You can’t know what it’s like.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “Because the sickness isn’t the worst part. I can deal with the death, deal with the pain of not being able to save everyone, as long as I have the chance to try. But lately, I haven’t even been allowed to try.”

“You’re right,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t understand.”

She laughed, a harsh, painful sound that hurt to listen to. “Yeah, neither do I. I mean, we’re a scientific organization, right? It’s our job to control disease—shit, it’s in our name and our mission statement, so why is it so hard to get people who aren’t doctors or scientists to understand?”

“What people?”

“Politicians. Accountants.” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be back yet. There’s still way too much to do in Somalia. Education efforts are just beginning—the conditions at most of the refugee camps practically breed cholera and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“You know, when I started at the CDC, the team leaders had more control. They said when an epidemic was contained. They said when it was time to go home. Now, politicians tell us what to do. What to say, where to go, how long before we have to get out…

“I’m one of the best damn epidemiologists in the world and I know I haven’t found the roots of this outbreak. Just like I know that, while our efforts are making a difference in Somalia, I needed another six to eight weeks to really make sure the education was working, that the conditions were changing.

“A week ago, I was in the hardest hit area of Somalia, fighting that damn disease and convinced that I actually had a shot at beating it. But then my boss called and here I am. The government has decided that it doesn’t want us in Somalia right now, because of some political problem I don’t know about or even care about. I tried to explain that this had nothing to do with politics, that we were really getting a handle on things and just needed a little more time. It didn’t matter. I was on a plane headed home a few days later. While cholera is loosely contained in Somalia, it will make a comeback in less than three months. I guarantee it. And when it does, it will have spread beyond Somalia’s borders and be ten times harder to contain than if we had just been allowed to finish our jobs in the first place.