The Doctor's Little Secret

Their destination proved to be a neighborhood of ranch-style homes in the southern part of town, a few blocks past a shopping center that included a discount furniture store, a gift shop and a supermarket. A row of jacaranda trees lined the street, showing only the first hint of buds that would later blossom into vivid lavender.

“The guys tend to act a little wild on their days off,” Rachel warned as she found a space along the crowded curb.

“Meaning what, exactly?” Russ inquired.

“They’re kind of physical.” She collected the DVDs.

“In what sense?” His idea of getting physical at a barbecue involved nothing more than hefting a hamburger.

“Ever wrestle with your brother? Or your sister?” she said as she climbed out.

Russ had developed a distaste for fighting in high school, when he’d had to deck a few guys to end persistent bullying. Although he’d won, he hadn’t enjoyed the experience.

“I’m an only child. While I’ve done weight training, I never cared for contact sports.” He seized on a more interesting topic. “How many siblings do you have, anyway?”

“Depends on how you figure it.” With that enigmatic comment, she veered onto a walkway, marched up the steps and entered the house without knocking. Since he assumed this must be acceptable behavior, Russ followed.

They appeared to have walked into a pool hall. Cigarette smoke, masculine chatter and the crack of a cue against a ball greeted them. At a billiards table, half a dozen men were so busy playing that they barely acknowledged the new arrivals. Their Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts made Russ feel overdressed in his jacket and jeans.

On the walls above a mismatched array of chairs and couches, someone had tacked frayed motorcycle posters. Beer cans and food wrappers crowded a few small tables and less-trafficked areas of the floor.

He and Rachel proceeded through a den with a big-screen TV across which aliens zapped each other. The circle of players didn’t even glance up. Despite their age and size, they reminded Russ of video-addicted adolescents.

In the kitchen, doorless cabinets revealed shelves sparsely stocked with canned goods. The countertop overflowed with chips, dips, crackers, cookies and a half-empty box of doughnuts.

Russ peered around for actual food. The appetizing scent wafting through the wide-open sliding door indicated that it awaited outdoors.

A couple of guys interrupted their snacking to return Rachel’s high-fives. “This is Dr. McKenzie. He’s new at the hospital.”

“Guess we’ll be seeing you in the E.R., then.” A beefy fellow with an air of authority offered his hand. “I’m Captain Ferguson. Call me Frank.”

The others also greeted Russ in a friendly manner. Russ didn’t bother to correct the impression that he’d been invited as a sort of comrade-by-association. Besides, pediatricians did consult in the E.R. on occasion.

Rachel sniffed the charcoal-scented smoke wafting through the sliding door. “Burgers ready?”

“You ought to hold off eating.” Derek Reed, who’d introduced himself as the community relations officer, surveyed her lazily. “Hale’s setting up a competition. Just your speed.”

“You mean a game?” Russ asked. Whatever these guys had in mind, he suspected it wasn’t croquet.

“I wouldn’t call it a game exactly,” remarked a fellow who’d given his name as Joel Simmons. “Hope you brought your swimsuit, Rache.”

“Nah. I’ll have to borrow.” Leaving to the imagination exactly what she expected to borrow in a houseful of guys, she led the way to the patio.

A long table held plates, buns and condiments. Beyond it, a group of men and women lounged in plastic chairs watching basketball on a portable TV. To their left, a muscular aproned man—presumably the host—tended a humongous hooded grill.

Russ and Rachel retrieved soft drinks from an ice-filled cooler. “I’ll save the beer for later,” she explained. “Better be on my toes if there’s a challenge.”

An assortment of dented bicycles leaned against the cement wall that surrounded the yard. Russ was about to ask their purpose when a burst of smoke poured from the barbecue as the cook lifted the hood. “That’s Hale. We better find out what’s on the agenda before he gets busy serving.” Rachel strode in his direction.

She made introductions. When their host heard Russ’s occupation, the detective said, “Good idea, bringing a doctor.”

That sounded ominous. “What’s with the bikes?” Russ asked.

“They were left over from the police auction last week. I bought ’em cheap.”

Russ had read about the sale, which raised money for the department by disposing of unclaimed stolen or lost goods. That didn’t explain why Hale had decided to decorate his backyard with them, a point that wasn’t lost on Rachel.

“Bicycles, pool. They don’t exactly go together.” Picking up a pair of tongs, she snagged a blackened green pepper strip, blew on it and tossed it into her mouth. Her eyes grew teary.

Hale grinned. “Hot enough for you?”

She dashed the heat with a swallow of soda. “Jalapeño?” She’d plainly assumed it to be a bell pepper.

“Worse. Thai dragon.” The name said it all. “So you want to hear about the bikes?”

Although Rachel seemed to have trouble speaking clearly, she managed to nod.

Hale proceeded to outline a contest. Competitors chose a bike and pedaled around the pool. After making a hairpin turn at one end, they were to hop off the bike, dive in and swim across. The entire procedure would be timed.

Rachel chugged more soda. “What’s the prize?” she wheezed, still suffering the effects of the pepper.

“Case of beer.”

Of course, Russ thought.

“Cold?” said Rachel.

“My fridge isn’t that large,” Hale responded. “You in?”

Russ couldn’t let his new friend risk her neck. “Riding bikes on wet pavement sounds dangerous. Have you played this before?”

“Nope. Just thought of it,” Hale responded proudly, and laid cheese slices atop a couple of burgers.

“Did you try it yourself?” Russ challenged.

“Sure. Matter of fact, I set the baseline. Thirty seconds.” Hale gestured toward the pool. “Piece of cake.”

Recognizing the futility of citing the risks, Russ tried a different tactic. “Have you checked your homeowners policy for liability?”

“The department has great medical insurance,” Hale returned casually. To the other guests, he bellowed, “Come and get it!”

Her mind obviously made up, Rachel requested the loan of some shorts and a T-shirt. Hale directed her to the second bedroom on the right.

As she disappeared into the interior, Russ reminded himself that he wasn’t Rachel’s date or her keeper, just a tag-along. She obviously had a thrill-seeking personality.

After Hale finished dishing out burgers, Russ seized the opportunity to press, “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

The other man considered briefly. Then he asked, “What kind of doctor did you say you were?”

“Pediatrician.”

“That explains it.” Hale nodded with satisfaction, as if he’d discovered the source of what he considered excessive anxiety. “Don’t worry, Doc. It isn’t as if I’m letting a kid do this.”

Hopeless.

Rachel wasn’t the only daredevil in the crowd. During her absence, a wiry fellow grabbed a bike, issued a war cry and hit the pedals full force, zipping around the pool fully dressed except for bare feet.

The racing-style bike swerved at the end and slipped a little as he climbed off. Applause went up from the spectators as he leaped over the still-spinning wheels, hit the water and churned his way to the far side.

“Twenty-six seconds!” Hale hooted. “He’s in the lead!”

The pressure of police work must accumulate until these guys were dying to let off steam, Russ mused. He only hoped nobody got hurt. Especially not Rachel.

A second contestant set off to a round of cheers, but lost his balance on the second turn. He had to plant both feet on the ground to avoid falling.

“Default!” Hale yelled.

“Ow!” A string of curses blistered the air as the man regarded his badly scraped soles. He limped off, presumably to find first aid.

More people emerged from inside for a fresh round of burgers. Between bites, they challenged each other to participate.

“You’re outta luck, you losers. The winner’s here.” Rachel marched out with a swagger. She’d traded her clothes for a USC Trojans T-shirt and oversize shorts with an extension cord doubling as a belt. Long legs ended in shapely bare feet. She looked rough-and-ready and incredibly sexy.

Russ contemplated a further effort to stop her, but the crowd was calling out encouragement. Clasping both hands above her head, Rachel performed an impromptu previctory prance. At this point, he guessed she’d dive into an empty pool before she’d beg off.

The question of how the chief might react crossed his mind. But the chief wasn’t here, and Captain Ferguson didn’t appear to object.

“Where’d you find that cord?” Hale demanded of Rachel.

“Your room.” She stopped dancing around.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll reset your clock, if I live.”

He glared. “You have any idea how hard it is to set that alarm? The buttons stick.”

Joel hooted. “Guess you’ll have to find somebody to wake you up in the morning!”

The comment brought razzes and whistles. Shrugging them off, the host told Rachel to get moving or he’d declare her in default.

Russ tensed as she picked out a bike. “She should at least wear a helmet,” he told Derek.

“It’s dangerous to whack your head on the water in one of those,” the officer replied. “Might cause brain injury.”

“She’d have to take it off before she dove in,” Russ conceded.

“Then she’d lose.” That appeared to be the overriding consideration.

Too late to intervene, anyway. Torn between excitement and apprehension, Russ watched as Rachel’s athletic body set off, pedaling like mad around the concrete. Excellent coordination. Great balance, too, as she overcame a slight skid. The crowd fell silent.

His stomach clenched as she screeched to a halt on the lip and leaped off in the direction of the water. Then something went wrong.

Her foot must have caught a piece of the bike, because she landed at an off angle, going so fast she hardly seemed aware that she was too close to one side. Or perhaps she just wasn’t willing to waste time correcting her position. The bike kept moving across the concrete until it hit a metal garbage can with an ear-splitting crash.

“Go left!” somebody shouted.

“You’re too close!” called another bystander.

Russ started around the pool, hoping to run interference. Too late. Obviously disoriented, Rachel smacked against the far corner of the pool and disappeared into the depths. A brief silence ensued.

“Twenty-one seconds!” Hale slapped his leg. “I’ll bet that record’s gonna stand.”

“Isn’t she hurt?” a woman asked.

“I’ll bet she’s just playing possum.” Joel didn’t sound very certain, though.

In the pool, Rachel’s inert form drifted below the surface. A whole platoon full of trained officers and not one of them made a move. There she was in the deep end, not even struggling. Eyes half-closed. If she’d hit her head…Dismissing the dire possibilities, Russ focused on his task.

After whipping off his jacket and kicking off his shoes, he dove in. Cool heaviness closed around him, pulling at the clothes as he strained toward her.

As he’d learned in long-ago swimming classes, he gripped Rachel’s head from behind, out of reach in case she started to flail. He almost wished she would, but she floated limply as he towed her to the edge.

All her spirit and energy had vanished, and he missed them keenly. Missed the unique person he’d only started to appreciate.

When they reached the pool’s edge, Rachel gasped. A relieved Russ sucked in air. Then strong hands hauled them up.

“Good job, Doc.” Beneath his tan, Hale had gone pale. At last the peril appeared to have penetrated his thick skull. “She okay?”

Rachel sputtered and coughed as she lay on the cement. A moment later, she wheezed, “Had the wind knocked out of me.” Another few breaths and she added, “Did I win?”

“Yup,” Hale said. “By a wide margin.”

Rachel raised her fist a few inches in a gesture of victory. Russ wanted to hug her and scold her at the same time. “How’s your head? Did you hurt your foot?”

“Ankle’s bruised. Head’s fine.”

Someone tossed a couple of towels their way. While drying off, Russ checked his wallet. Except for dampness around the edges, it had survived intact, unlike his watch, whose digital face had gone blank. Worth the sacrifice, he decided. Next time, he’d buy a waterproof model.

A crash of wood against wood drew everyone’s attention to a gate flung open in the fence between yards. A petite blonde with outrage written on her face stormed in.

“What the heck was that racket?” Her furious gaze took in the dented bikes and overturned trash can. “Hale, you lunkhead, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, great. We woke the dragon lady,” Joel muttered to no one in particular.

“Who’s that?” Russ inquired quietly.

“My ex-wife, Connie.” Joel ground his teeth. “That used to be my house. Hale and I should never have put in that gate.” Ruefully he added, “Used to be fun sneaking over here to drink beer while I was supposed to be doing yard work.”

The blonde advanced on their host, who found his escape route blocked by the grill. Russ caught the end of her tirade. “…can’t hear myself think!”

“We’re done,” Hale assured her, unable to retreat any farther without barbecuing his backside.

“Done with what?”

“A little contest.” He cleared his throat. “Good news! Rache won.”

Connie spotted the figure sprawled on the concrete and rushed over. “Are you all right? Hale, she ought to sue you!”

“I’m fine.” Rachel sat up. “Hale, are there any more burgers? I’m starved.” Taking Connie’s hand, she hauled herself to her feet, nearly toppling the blonde in the process.

Connie surveyed her friend with a frown. “I thought you were going to dress nice. Why are you wearing that?”

“I borrowed it from Hale.”

The reference to clothing confused Russ. Why had the two discussed Rachel’s clothing choices? Before he could draw any conclusions, the newcomer addressed him. “You must be Dr. McKenzie. I’m Connie Simmons.”

The fact that she knew his name meant Rachel had informed her about the outing and, presumably, sought advice. Interesting.

“Pleased to meet you.” Russ shook hands, embarrassed to be caught under such circumstances. “I assure you, I don’t condone this activity.”

“Neither does any sane person,” Connie declared. “You look a bit the worse for wear.”

“He fished me out.” Lowering her head, Rachel toweled her hair. “You should have seen me sinking like a pair of old sneakers.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’m glad someone around here has a brain.” Connie swung toward Hale. “I ought to tell the chief about this insanity.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” growled her ex-husband.

Connie’s eyes narrowed. Her hostility appeared to be well justified, in light of the irresponsible behavior Russ had witnessed. “Let’s talk about who the real jerks at this party are, starting with—”

“Burger?” Hale proffered a plate, interrupting an incipient tirade.

The former Mrs. Simmons scowled as if she’d like to shove it down his throat. But she took the food.

Rachel was starting for the table when Connie intervened. “Go. Change. Now.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You should see what you look like.”

Rachel glanced at where the wet T-shirt revealed curves that some of the male officers were ogling with interest. “For heaven’s sake. You’d think I was Elise or somebody.” Glaring at the men, she groused, “Oh, all right,” and slogged away, limping a little.

Russ was glad he’d made a point of not staring. He couldn’t help noticing her tempting shape, especially not when his arms retained a sensual impression. Whoever Elise was, she couldn’t possibly compare with this woman.

“I wonder if I can still use that extension cord.” Hale sighed. “Hey, Doc, feel free to borrow dry socks and whatever.”

“Thanks.” Russ reached for his jacket just as, in the pocket, the cell phone rang. Although he wasn’t on call, the hospital operator might contact him in an emergency, so he excused himself and answered it on the way inside. “Dr. McKenzie.”

“Mike Federov. Can you spare a minute?”

“Sure.” Dropping the towel on a kitchen chair, Russ eased onto it. The somber note in his friend’s voice told him this wasn’t a casual call.

“Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I figured you ought to hear this.” Mike explained that while visiting his parents, who had a wide circle of friends in West L.A., he’d just learned of a tragedy several weeks earlier that concerned Russ’s daughter.

Lauren’s grandparents had been returning from a weekend in Lake Tahoe with friends when their small plane crashed, killing everyone on board. Lauren hadn’t been with them, thank heaven.

Russ ached for the five-year-old girl, his daughter, who’d lost her family. At the same time, it occurred to him that the whole picture had changed. Concern twisted through him, followed by a tiny ray of hope. “Who has custody? Janine?”

“I hear she’s the guardian appointed in their will,” Mike confirmed.

“Is she…how’s it working out with her and Lauren?” He couldn’t imagine Janine rejecting her daughter at this stage. Still, having the girl thrust into her care unexpectedly must be difficult.

“Nobody seems to know.”

“She must be terribly upset about her parents. I’d like to offer my condolences.” Russ was eager to provide his ex-girlfriend with moral support. He’d always felt that he’d let her down years ago. Perhaps he could make up for that now.

Mike provided Janine’s phone number, which, with his usual thoughtfulness, he’d obtained in advance. He also said that he didn’t believe she’d ever married.

Russ thanked him and clicked off. He decided, however, to wait until later to call her. Better to clarify his thoughts first, and besides, this wasn’t an appropriate place for such a personal conversation.

He was debating whether to accept Hale’s offer of fresh clothing when Rachel emerged freshly dressed. She’d tucked wet hair behind her ears.

“Famished,” she noted as she snagged a handful of crackers. “Hey, Doc, you look cute damp. Ever try out for a wet T-shirt contest?”

“Not recently.” He grinned. Around Rachel, he felt surprisingly unselfconscious. He opted for declining Hale’s offer of dry clothes, except for the socks.

As they returned to the patio, the conversation with Mike kept invading his thoughts. Much as Russ yearned to spend more time with Rachel, his first priority had to be his daughter, and that meant doing whatever was necessary to assist her and her mother.

Until this tragedy, Lauren had had a stable two-parent family. Since apparently Janine remained single, Russ didn’t intend to let his little girl grow up without a father.

The more he reflected, the more determined he became not to shirk his responsibility a second time. And not to lose this chance to be part of his daughter’s life, whatever that required.

In the midst of her colleagues, Rachel appeared fully recovered, laughing and joking. Russ wondered if there was any way to see her again. But he couldn’t even consider it until he talked to Janine.

Chapter Four

Rachel hadn’t been kidding when she suggested the doc enter a wet T-shirt contest, assuming such things existed for guys. With that shirt stuck to his chest and his hair as rumpled as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, he made her blood race.

“Thanks again for pulling me out of the drink,” she said as she drove him home.

“No problem.” His tone was subdued.

Where were his thoughts, anyway? If fate had a trace of mercy, they’d be focused on her. Normally, Rachel loathed having some guy rescue her butt, and that included the occasions when she and her fellow trainees had taken turns during Police Academy. But even in her dazed state—or maybe because of it—she’d gotten a rush when Russ hoisted her from the pool.

Strong masculine arms encircling her. Warm contact dissolving the chill. He smelled good, too.

Under other circumstances, Rachel might have contemplated the possibility of making love to the guy, but this wasn’t Joe Six-Pack. This guy did funny things to her nervous system, and his sophistication intimidated her a little. Getting involved might mean more than she was ready to handle.

All the same, no point in parting prematurely when they could be enjoying each other’s company. “So, you got plans for the rest of the night?” she asked.

Russ tore his gaze from the passenger window and frowned at the clock on her dash. “Is that accurate? My watch died. I thought it was later.”

In February, evenings always seemed longer due to the early darkness. “Yeah, it’s nine-fifteen. Kinda early to ditch a party, but you seemed antsy.”

At the party they’d viewed a DVD and part of a Lakers game, and had a go at the video console. When she’d noticed Russ’s concentration lagging, Rachel had suggested they decamp.

“Do you suppose it’s too late to place a phone call?” he asked. “I meant to wait till tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.”

Aha, a clue to his preoccupation. “Depends on the time zone.” Unable to contain her curiosity, she added, “May I ask who?” A girlfriend, perhaps. Might as well hear the bad news sooner than later.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he responded.

The “ex” part appealed to Rachel. But if the woman was truly out of the picture, Russ wouldn’t be planning to call her on a Saturday night, would he? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

To her right, at the old pickling plant, she observed a shadow moving and was about to slow down for a better look when a dog trotted into the lamplight. A short distance off, someone whistled, and the pooch dashed away.

To some cops, off-duty meant blind, deaf and dumb except in cases of dire peril. Rachel’s instincts, however, refused to hibernate on command.

“Do you know much about children?” the doc inquired. If the question related to his ex-girlfriend, he didn’t explain the connection.

“I volunteer at the local homework center. I did a lot of baby-sitting growing up, too.” Rachel waited for enlightenment. This had to be leading somewhere.

“How do you imagine you’d react if…” Russ hesitated. “What I’m about to say is confidential, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Suppose you’d had a baby girl and given her up for adoption, and then the adoptive parents died and there you were, raising this kid,” he ventured. “Suddenly your ex-boyfriend shows up and says he intends to be part of his daughter’s life. How would you react?”

Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Depends on the guy. If he was an abusive jerk, I’d seek a restraining order.”

“What if he was a decent guy who really cared about being a father?”

Did Russ mean…himself? “I’m not good with imaginary scenarios.” Another point occurred to her. “Anyway, if adoptive parents die, the care doesn’t revert to the birth mom.”

Ahead, Rachel observed a van weaving in its lane and was glad when it swung into an apartment parking lot. Home for the night, she hoped.

Russ cleared his throat. “You’ve probably realized by now that the father is me.”

Well, that certainly erased all doubt. “How did this come about?”

“Janine got pregnant while I was an intern, five years ago.” Warming to the subject, he described the decision to relinquish a child named Lauren and how he’d just learned of her grandparents’ deaths. “I have no idea what Janine’s plans are or whether there’s another guy in the picture. Frankly, that isn’t my concern. I simply want to meet my daughter and make sure she’s okay.”