Bride for a Single Dad

Her medical school diplomas were framed and hung in prominent display on the wall behind her head. The reality of her extensive education punched him in the gut. Pretty as she may be, it was obvious Dr. Jillian Davis existed in a world very different from his.

“Could I see those percocets again?” Jillian asked. “I need to check the lot number.”

He dug into his pocket and drew out the evidence. He tossed them onto her desk. “Why? So you can match the lot number to that of the drugs missing from this hospital?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure if hospital administration would approve of me discussing the details with you,” Jillian admitted. She turned over the package and jotted a series of numbers on a pad of paper. “I think it’s best if I get you in touch with our risk management department.”

Alec frowned. He would have preferred to work with Jillian directly. In his experience, once hospital administrators were involved, the lines of communication became far less direct.

He leaned forward, pinning Jillian with a sharp gaze. “Dr. Davis, I really don’t have time to mess around with your hospital administration. First of all, it’s past seven on a Friday night and I’m sure most of the administrative staff has already gone home. If you make me wait until Monday, the trail will be cold. A sixteen-year-old kid died after exchanging gunfire with another, who is right now undergoing surgery. I need to know if these drugs cost this boy his life. Or, even worse, if other innocent kids are in danger.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and a shot of desire stirred his groin. Dammit, he needed to stop thinking of the pretty doctor as an attractive woman. He had more important issues to deal with than his sudden awareness of a member of the opposite sex.

Not just any member of the opposite sex. Jillian was a doctor, with years of education and training behind her. He’d admired the way she’d managed the situation in the trauma room, taking charge, confronting the apathy of the surgeon on call.

Which reminded him of the moment when the forceps had dropped from her fingers. Jillian hadn’t seemed like the clumsy type. He wasn’t a doctor, but from where he stood it had looked as if she’d suddenly lost feeling in her fingers.

“There’s six tablets here,” Jillian murmured as she stared down at the percocets. “A week ago, there were twelve tablets of percocets missing from the narcotic cabinet.”

“Twelve?” Alec forced his attention to the facts she was giving him. “So it’s not just a couple of pills here and there?”

Jillian shook her head. “No. The timeframe from when the drugs were restocked until the time they were noticed as missing was almost three hours. At first the nurses thought maybe the pharmacy tech who stocked the drawer had miscounted, but when they questioned him, he was adamant that he hadn’t made a mistake. The nurse who signed off on the tech’s stocking of the drawer also verified the medication was there. A few people went into the machine for medication, but then cancelled their transaction. Management thinks maybe one of those nurses went in to take the pills and didn’t record it, but the nurses swore they didn’t take them and there’s no proof one of them did. For now they’re downloading information from the computer every day, watching for more trends.”

“So the narcotics are locked in a computerized system?” he asked, grabbing that tidbit of information.

“Yes.”

Interesting. He would have loved to see the machine for himself, but first things first. He took a small notebook out of his pocket. “Which nurses canceled their transactions?”

She hesitated. “I really think you should get the information from hospital administration. For all we know, someone may have gotten the password of one of these nurses. They could be innocent.”

“Well, then, I’ll take a list of all the nurses who were working that day.”

Jillian looked apologetic. “The ED nurse manager, Rose Jenkins, gathered all the information together for the risk management department. I don’t have the list, you’ll have to get it from her.” His concern must have shown on her face, because she quickly added, “I’d like to help you, but I really need clearance from hospital administration. There’s usually someone on call.” His nerves tingled when her fingertips brushed against his in the process of handing the percocets back to him. “I just can’t believe this is a coincidence.”

No, he didn’t believe in coincidences either. As Jillian toyed with her pen, his two-way radio let out a squawk. His partner was no doubt trying to figure out what had happened to him.

He spoke quietly into the microphone and then stood. Jillian—no, Dr. Davis, he quickly amended—glanced up at him. “You need to go?”

“I’m afraid so.” He didn’t bother to hide the pang of regret. “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow? Are you working?”

“I’m not working but you can always reach me on my pager, I wear it twenty-four seven.” Jillian rose to her feet and handed him a slim, white business card. “Give me a few hours tomorrow morning to page the administrator on call. I’ll do my best to help you.”

“Great.” He stared at the number on the embossed card, understanding her commitment to her job was as deeply ingrained as his. Was she married? Did she have children, too? For some reason, and not just her ringless fingers, he thought not. “Thanks again, Dr. Davis.” He moved toward the door.

“Alec?” The husky way she said his name sent goose-bumps down his arms.

“Yes?” He turned toward her, steeling himself against the surge of awareness.

“Please, call me Jillian.” Her smile held a note of uncertainty.

Despite his efforts to keep his distance, warmth seeped through his chest at her request. “Pretty name, Jillian.” He couldn’t help grinning when she blushed and he slid her card into his breast pocket. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

He flashed her one last smile, before walking outside to meet his partner. The traitorous part of his body was looking forward to seeing Jillian again.

Work-related or not.

* * *

Jillian got up early as she usually did and went for a three-mile run. At least her legs seemed to be working all right, no signs of weakness there. Afterwards, she paged the hospital administrator on call. All she could do then was wait. After she showered and changed, she stood and stared at her closet, desperately searching for something to wear.

When she realized what she was doing, anticipating Alec’s phone call, she turned away from the dressy clothes and grabbed the pair of comfortable jeans paired with a casual short-sleeved T-shirt she usually wore on her days off.

She probably wouldn’t see Alec anyway, unless the hospital administrator called her back soon. Over an hour had passed and she hadn’t gotten a response yet. Likely, she wasn’t going to be able to help him after all.

Disappointed, she hoped Alec wouldn’t be upset with her. Although why she cared if he was upset or not was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she was going to see him on a regular basis or anything. Would she? Her heart gave an expectant leap until she squashed the sensation with common sense. No, of course not. Their paths wouldn’t likely cross again.

The tingling sensation returned to her fingers. She stopped in her tracks and stared accusingly at her right hand. The numbness and tingling came and went without warning. Her initial doctor’s appointment had been almost six weeks ago. The neurology specialist, Dr. Juran, had ordered a broad-spectrum lab panel, and thankfully the results had come back as normal. When her symptoms hadn’t returned right away, she’d put off scheduling her MRI scan. Until Dr. Juran had called, urging her to get it done.

She’d had the MRI yesterday. She’d called to find out the results and had been told they wouldn’t be available until Monday.

Dr. Juran had been noncommittal when she’d asked him about multiple sclerosis. Her mother had suffered from the auto-immune disorder. In the beginning, Angela Davis hadn’t been slowed down much from her disease. Yet over time she had grown weaker and weaker until finally she hadn’t been able to take care of herself. Since Jillian’s father had died of a heart attack when she’d been in her early twenties, Jillian had been left to be the sole provider of care for her mother, until Angela had finally passed away as well.

Jillian caught her lower lip between her teeth. Dr. Juran had explained MS wasn’t hereditary, so she needed to stop making herself crazy by thinking she had the same disease.

With a choppy sigh she flexed her fingers until the sensation passed. Like the last time, the symptoms didn’t bother her for long. Just enough to make her aware something was wrong.

She tore her gaze from her hand. Obsessing over what she might have wasn’t how she wanted to spend the weekend. She was lucky to have two whole days off. She needed to enjoy them.

And she would. Glancing at her watch, she tried to think of the best way to plan her day, considering all the various errands she had to run.

Maybe she should wait to leave until Alec had called.

Wait a minute, since when had she planned her life around a man?

Not since she’d been sixteen and infatuated with Steven Wade, the quarterback of the football team who hadn’t known the bookworm-school-valedictorian had been alive.

With a determined motion, Jillian swept her purse off the counter, intent on heading outside to her car. The pager at her waist vibrated and, despite herself, she grasped the unit eagerly. The number flashing across the display wasn’t the hospital’s.

As she didn’t have a personal life to speak of, the number had to be Alec’s.

Her heart leaped in her chest. She turned and walked into the kitchen, dropping her purse back on the table. Taking a steadying breath, she picked up her phone and dialed the number.

“Alec Monroe,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hi, Alec. This is Jillian, returning your call.” She cursed the butterflies mating in her stomach. What in the world was wrong with her?

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” His deep voice held a note of warmth, unless she was totally imagining it. “Would you have time to go out for lunch?”

“Lunch?” She stared at the wall calendar and the blank space labeled Saturday, knowing full well she didn’t have other plans. She wanted nothing more than to go, but Alec wouldn’t be happy to hear she couldn’t help him. “I’m sorry, Alec, but I haven’t heard back from anyone in hospital administration yet.”

“That’s all right,” he assured her. “I have something else I want to talk to you about.”

“You do?” Her interest piqued, she quickly gave her consent. “Sure, I’d love to have lunch. Ah, where would you like to meet?”

He hesitated, and she sensed he wanted to argue about meeting at the restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “Do you like Italian? We could meet at Giovani’s, say, around eleven-thirty?”

“Giovani’s is perfect. See you then, Alec.”

Jillian hung up the phone, already shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was acting like a goof.

This wasn’t a date. This really wasn’t a date.

Ha! Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d figure out a way to believe it.

Alec wanted to ask her about something else. Like what? No doubt he had medical questions of some sort. A few of the men she’d dated in college had seemed to want to know all about various disease processes once they’d known she was a medical student.

She clutched her purse to her chest, feeling the same uncertainty she’d experienced back then, going out on her first date.

The guy had been nice enough, but their relationship hadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, none of the men she’d dated on and off during her college years had evoked deep feelings on her part.

Maybe because none of them had been anything like Alec. Alec was different. He put his life on the line for others, yet oozed masculinity and sensual awareness in a way she’d never experienced before.

She couldn’t deny that his magnetic attraction made her secretly thrilled to be seeing him again.

CHAPTER THREE

ALEC hated working weekends, not appreciating the way the job cut into his personal time with his daughter. He’d debated bringing Shelby along, but then Alaina had mentioned taking the kids to a water park and the excited glint in his daughter’s eye had convinced him it was better for her to go with his sister. Beth, Alaina’s daughter, was close to Shelby’s age and the two of them had become almost inseparable over the past eight months.

The knowledge should have made him feel less guilty about working the weekend, but didn’t.

He arrived at the restaurant early, having finished interviewing the neighbors around the area where the shooting had taken place sooner than he’d thought.

He stood in the shade of the building to wait for Jillian, seeking respite from the hot sun. The hours he’d spent gathering information hadn’t revealed much about why the two boys had begun to fight, but his John Doe number two did have a name.

Richard James Bordan. Known by his friends as Ricky.

The kid had celebrated his sixteenth birthday three weeks earlier. He’d played football and, according to his mother, had had dreams of qualifying for a college scholarship.

Ricky’s mother didn’t have any idea where he might have gotten the drugs. She claimed he’d been a good boy who hadn’t gotten into trouble with the law or skipped school as much as the other kids did. Football had been too important to him.

He could have pointed out that good boys didn’t usually carry guns and percocets but he hadn’t. Because deep down he believed her. Ricky probably was a good kid, who had made the stupid mistake of trying to settle an argument with a gun.

Where Ricky had gotten the gun and the drugs was a complete mystery. Although Ricky’s juvenile record did show he’d once run with a rough crowd.

He glanced up when a sedate blue Chevy Malibu pulled into the parking lot. When Jillian climbed out, his chest tightened and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She was dressed casually, in jeans that appeared to have been molded solely for her long legs and lean backside, paired with a tiny V-necked top that emphasized the high curve of her breasts. In the hospital her long white lab coat and conservative business clothes had given her a professional, hands-off image.

Now, with her hair falling in waves around her shoulders, Jillian looked young. Fresh. Beautiful. And close. Very close.

Well within reach.

“Hi!” Her breathless smile almost sent him to his knees. “I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

He shook his head, trying to convince his lame brain not to fail him, now. He pried his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Not at all.” He pulled the door open for her, somewhat surprised she wasn’t driving something a little more fun and sporty. He could easily see her in a flashy convertible. “I finished up early.”

“I’m hungry,” she confided as they were seated at a cozy table for two. “I’m glad you suggested meeting for lunch.”

“Me, too.” He knew better than to think of a simple sharing of a meal as a date but it was a difficult fact to remember when he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. He pulled his gaze from the temptation of her mouth with an effort. Once seated, they pondered the menus and placed their orders. When they both chose the same Italian dish, she laughed.

He sucked in his breath. She went from beautiful to stunning when she laughed.

It didn’t take much to imagine her smiling and laughing with his family. He came from a loud, noisy clan and he knew his parents and five siblings would love her. He suspected his youngest sister, Abby, especially would get on with Jillian.

Maybe he should invite Jillian to Abby and Nick’s wedding next month?

Or not, as he already had a date. With his daughter.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful about your case, Alec,” she said in a soft, apologetic tone. “But I promise as soon as Monday comes, I’ll make sure you get the list of staff members you requested.”

He shrugged, hiding his disappointment. He appreciated her need to go through proper channels, but it wasn’t easy to hold off on the investigation when kids’ lives were at stake. “That’s all right. I did want to ask you about something kind of related to the case.” He flashed a chagrined smile. “Percocets are pain pills, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you think of any reason why a sixteen-year-old would have them in his pocket?”

She sat back in her chair, tilted her head and drew her brows together in a small frown. He liked the way she carefully considered his questions, as if they were important. She didn’t just give an easy answer off the top of her head. “Not really, unless he’d recently had surgery, which could be verified on autopsy. If not, I can only assume he planned to sell them, but, from what I hear, percocets don’t have the same street value as other drugs, like oxycodone.”

He raised a brow at her perceptiveness. “You’re right about that. I’ve asked questions and heard the same thing. Still, it’s unusual for kids to have this kind of drug. Our narcotics division has seen more marijuana or crack cocaine or even heroin. Anything but percocets.”

Jillian shivered. “I don’t even like to think about any of those drugs ending up in kids’ hands.”

Yeah, he was totally in sync with her on that one. The image of Shelby’s innocent smile flashed in his mind as he added a heartfelt, “Me either.”

“I guess I lived a pretty sheltered life,” Jillian mused. “I didn’t know much about any of this stuff until I started working in the ED.”

Alec found himself wanting to know more about Jillian Davis. He leaned forward. “Did you grow up here in Milwaukee?”

“Yes.” She shrugged a graceful shoulder. “My parents were older when they had me, and they were a bit over-protective. As they were both college professors, I ended up spending a lot of time in classrooms. Not that I minded. I loved books.”

“So you were good in school.” He could easily see her, studying intently in the library.

“Good enough to be granted a college scholarship.” She paused when the waiter brought their food to the table. “This looks delicious.”

For a few minutes they concentrated on their respective meals. Alec glanced at her, his gaze drawn to her lovely face. She’d mentioned having a sheltered life and he could see how that might be the case. Heck, as far as he was concerned, Jillian shouldn’t have to take care of any victims of drug abuse. He took a bite of his chicken marinara, wishing the ugly side of his job hadn’t touched her. No one liked dealing with criminals at any level. Unfortunately, there was little he could do except continue his investigation and then hand over the details to his boss.

Which reminded him of one more thing. “At some point I’d like to see your medication dispensing machine.”

“Stop by while I’m working and I’ll show it to you,” Jillian offered. “The way the machines work isn’t a big secret and when you get the list from Administration, make sure you ask for the names of the staff members who accessed it during those time frames.”

“I will. Thanks for the tip.” The way Jillian dug into her pasta with gusto made him grin. He could appreciate a woman with a healthy appetite.

She was beautiful. Successful. Financially secure. He hid a grimace. She probably made at least twice as much money per year as he did. She was way out of his league.

So what was he doing here, watching her eat? What was the point of fantasizing about asking her out again? If he had the chance, he’d take her out to a fancy restaurant for a nice, quiet dinner. One where she might agree to invite him to her place afterwards.

The phone at his waist chirped loudly. He glanced at the display, and then flashed Jillian an apologetic smile.

“Excuse me, this is my daughter.” He opened his phone. “Hi, munchkin, what’s up?”

“Daddy!” Shelby shrieked in his ear. “I slid down a water slide and my whole head went underneath the water!”

A moment of panic made him tighten his grip on the phone. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Did you cry?”

“No, silly.” To his relief she giggled. “I just held my breath. I didn’t like it when water went up my nose, though.”

Swimming lessons, he thought, relaxing one finger at a time from the death-like grip on his phone. Shelby needed swimming lessons, and fast. “You’re supposed to blow air out your nose, so water doesn’t come in.”

“Ew. Gross.” He chuckled, imagining the scrunched expression on her face. “Auntie Alaina is calling me so I have to go, Daddy. I love you.”

His throat tightened. He’d never, ever get tired of hearing her say that. “I love you, too, Shelby. See you later.” He cleared his throat as he snapped his phone shut.

Jillian stared at him, her eyes wide with shocked surprise. Then she pulled herself together, although he noticed her smile was strained. “Your daughter sounds adorable. How old is she?”

“Six. Almost seven.” He tried to think of a way to explain without going into the whole complicated story. “She’s only lived with me for the past year, since her mother died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jillian’s expression softened. “That must have been very difficult.”

“Kids are incredibly resilient. Shelby seems to have adjusted fairly well. So have I. We make a pretty good team.”

Jillian glanced away, making him realize he’d given the impression that he wasn’t interested in expanding that team.

A fact he hadn’t meant to state so boldly.

She reached for her water glass but as she lifted it, the stem slipped from her fingers and fell back onto the table. The glass didn’t break, but a little water sloshed over the edge. “I’m such a klutz!” Jillian exclaimed as she leaned over to mop up the mess, avoiding his gaze. “And, actually, Alec, I’m sorry but I need to get going. I have a number of things I need to do today.”

He couldn’t let her go, not like this. Reaching across the table, he caught her hand. “Jillian, wait.”

She froze, staring down at their joined hands. Then she looked up at him, her gaze uncertain. “For what?”

Stroking a thumb over the soft skin of her hand, he held her gaze. “You dropped the forceps in the ED and now this. Jillian, you’re not a klutz. But you certainly seem upset. I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is something wrong?”

There was a long pause, but then she tugged her hand from his. “I honestly don’t know. But, really, I do need to get going. Please, excuse me.” She picked up her purse. “Thanks for lunch, Alec. I hope you hear from the hospital administration soon so you can find the person you’re searching for.”

He watched her walk away, feeling bad about the abrupt way she’d pulled away from him. He also couldn’t help wondering what was wrong. She’d said she didn’t know but, as a physician, she must have an idea.

He signaled for the check, sternly reminding himself that Jillian’s medical problems weren’t any of his concern. His problem was to find the person stealing percocets from the hospital and putting them in the hands of children.

No way was he searching for anything on a personal level. Especially not a potential wife for himself or mother for Shelby.

* * *

Jillian spent the rest of her weekend trying to wrench the image of Alec talking to his daughter out of her head. She had thought him an attractive man before she’d known about his daughter. Yes, it had been a bit of a shock to find out he was a dad, but seeing him in his sensitive caring mode had made trying to pry him out of her mind even harder.

Reading professional medical journals helped to a certain extent, because there was always so much to learn. After a couple of hours, though, her mind drifted back to Alec. Disgusted, she considered calling the ED to see if they needed additional help. Anything was better than sitting around, dwelling on her lack of a personal life.