The Diaper Diaries

Hmm, maybe the skirt was a bit too peasant style, with those large felt flowers appliquéd around the hem, and—she twirled around—maybe said hem wasn’t entirely straight—the old lady’s eyesight had been failing—but Bethany’s highheeled pumps would dress it up.

Besides, she didn’t have a lot of choice. Thanks to her huge student loans, her wardrobe consisted of scrubs, lab coats and a bunch of stuff she could hide beneath them.

Bethany waved the blow-dryer briefly at her shoulderlength reddish-brown hair, then, in deference to the importance of the funds she was about to request, not to the man who was to bestow them, she applied some mascara and a pinky-red lipstick.

“Calm,” she reminded her flustered, wild-eyed reflection as she rolled her lips together to smooth the lipstick.

She couldn’t afford to screw up again. Last time, Tyler hadn’t bothered to hide first his boredom, then his amusement at her inarticulateness. Then, of course, he’d done that stupid thing that had left her feeling like the joke of the day.

Maybe she’d been oversensitive, she chided herself. There was probably a good explanation for his behavior. A nervous tic. Tourette’s syndrome. Thirty-something years of silver spoon-slurping, privileged existence that had blinded him to the needs of—

Okay, now she was being uncharitable, the very thing she’d accused Tyler of in the letter she’d sent after her pitch. Besides, Miss Georgia was apparently committed to working tirelessly for world peace. Clearly Tyler’s charitable instincts were in full working order.

Bethany would give him the benefit of the doubt and ask him politely—and coherently—for more money.

OLIVIA PAYNE GAVE Bethany a warm welcome, then phoned through to tell Tyler she had arrived.

When he appeared in the doorway of his secretary’s office, Bethany was struck anew by his good looks. The camera loved him—she knew that from the newspaper photos—but real life suited him even better. She might not like the guy, but she’d have to be blind not to notice he had dark hair just too long for decency and when he smiled, as he was doing now, his eyes gleamed with a dare that plenty of women might be tempted to accept.

She doubted anyone could consistently achieve a smile like that without hours of practice in front of a mirror.

“Good morning, Dr. Hart.” His voice was part of the package, low and warm, as if she was the person he most wanted to see right now.

Poised, calm, smooth, she cautioned herself. She shook his hand firmly, noted the gold links that punctured the crisp white of his cuffs. In his immaculately tailored charcoal suit he looked more put together than a GQ cover, and for some unspecified, illogical reason, Bethany disapproved. “Good to see you again, Mr. Warrington—Tyler.”

“How is your research going?” he asked courteously.

“Quite well, given the funding shortfall.” Not subtle, but definitely articulate.

His lips twitched. “That shortfall would be my fault, I assume?”

“Nothing you can’t rectify,” she said encouragingly, and he chuckled outright. Was he laughing at her again? She plowed on. “As you’ll have seen from my report, I’m on the verge of a breakthrough into therapies that interfere with antibody production. If the foundation would consider—” she thought of her parents, drew a shaky breath “—tripling its investment in my work, there’s every chance—”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk about your funding.” His interruption confirmed her fears, sent her spirits into free fall. Bethany clenched her toes inside her shoes to counter the sagging of her knees. Less abruptly, Tyler continued, “But if you want to call Olivia next week and ask her to set up a time in my diary…”

Bethany’s hopes shot back up again. Her first instinct was to grab the opportunity he offered. Then he favored her with that calculated smile that seduced socialites and beguiled beauty queens. And distracted Bethany? Not this time. She folded her arms and said deliberately, “And what will Olivia say when I call?”

Tyler blinked. Olivia made a strangled sound. Bethany waited.

Then he grinned, something much more genuine—as if to say, “You got me.” “She may say there’s no room in my diary,” he admitted.

“Just like there was no room for you to visit the kidney patients I work with?”

“I have a lot of demands on my time.” He spread his hands disarmingly. “You wouldn’t believe the number of people who want a piece of me.”

Most of them female. Even before Miss Georgia, the newspapers had reported his dating exploits so comprehensively, Bethany wondered how he found time to make it into the office. But evidently he did, because lately the press had been covering the foundation’s charitable activities, and in that sphere, at least, it seemed Tyler was a saint. Albeit one untroubled by anything so pesky as a vow of celibacy.

“I want a piece of you, too,” she said. Tyler raised his eyebrows, and she stuttered, “I—I want you to guarantee me that appointment to talk about my funding. Please.”

For a long moment Tyler stared at her. Then he said, “I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Before she could decide if he was being provocative, he turned to Olivia. “Give Bethany some time next week. And when I tell you to fob her off, don’t listen to me.”

That frank admission of his lack of interest in her work floored Bethany…and, amazingly, made her want to laugh. Which she was not about to do: she took her work seriously, even if he didn’t. She compressed her lips, picked up her bag. “Olivia asked me to bring this. I assume there’s a patient you want me to look at?”

“In my office.” He held the door open for her.

Tyler figured it was the oddness of Bethany’s skirt that drew his attention to the neat round of her bottom as he followed her into his office. That, and the same kick of awareness that had surprised him at their last encounter.

He couldn’t think why he found her so intriguing. Yes, that polished-cherry-wood hair waved nicely around her heartshaped face. But her nose was too pointy, all the easier for her to look down it at him, and her mouth a trifle wide for that stubborn chin. She was pretty, but Tyler dated beauties.

He was still puzzling over his attraction to her when she stopped; he almost bumped into her. She’d seen the baby.

“Oh, you gorgeous little thing.” She sounded awed, breathless, as she dropped to her knees on the carpet. “Hello, precious,” she crooned. The baby’s face split in an enormous smile, and Bethany laughed out loud.

Humor widened her mouth to even more generous proportions and revealed a dimple in her chin. All trace of obstinacy vanished, and she was much more the peach Olivia had suggested. A cute-but-not-his-type peach. Women who went gaga over babies usually had him hightailing it out the door.

She looked up at Tyler, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Who’s this?”

He shifted on his feet. Now that he had to explain, he realized just how weird this was. “Someone left it downstairs for me.”

“It?” Her eyebrows drew together, and the effect in combination with that skirt was of a disapproving pixie.

“Uh…her?” Damn, he should have had Olivia check.

Bethany unsnapped the terry garment. She hooked the front of the baby’s diaper with one finger and peered inside. “Him,” she corrected as she refastened the snaps. “What do you mean, someone left him?”

Tyler handed her the note. Watched curiosity turn to shock to alarm, all telegraphed across her face. She stared at him, mouth slightly open, apparently dumbfounded.

“This woman…” She groped for words. “This child’s mother thinks you would make a good parent?”

As if her intimate knowledge of children’s kidneys put her in a position to judge him. “I’m one of Atlanta’s favorite sons—and its most generous.”

Bethany sat back on her heels. “You hadn’t even figured out he’s a boy.”

“I believe in equal-opportunity parenting. Gender is irrelevant.”

She pffed. “You need to call social services.”

“My lawyer says I don’t.” He was glad he’d clarified the legality of the situation in the forty-five minutes that he’d waited for Bethany. “The mother’s letter effectively appoints me the baby’s guardian. According to my attorney, that may not carry weight long term, and I’ll need to meet with social services. But if they’re satisfied he’s well looked after and that efforts are being made to find the mother—which I’ll hire a private investigator to do…”

Bethany leaned over to scoop up the baby, then scrambled to her feet. As she hoisted the infant to her shoulder in a casual, practiced movement, Tyler caught a glimpse of slim, winterpale midriff where her T-shirt pulled away from her skirt.

“You mean, you plan to keep him?” she said. “What about your incredibly busy schedule? Babies take time and attention.”

“I’ll organize a sitter.”

“You can’t tell me you care about this baby.” She sounded suspicious and she was doing that looking-down-her-nose thing, one of his least favorite memories from the first time they’d met.

“I care about families, about children.” What the heck, he might as well try out some of the lines he planned to use in media interviews. “Children are our future.”

“Wonderful,” she said brightly—to the baby. “Your new guardian is a graduate of the Whitney Houston School of Philosophy.” She looked at Tyler and her eyes sparked, not with the tenderness she’d directed at the baby, but with something more…electric.

Tyler’s senses stirred in response to that spark, and he struggled to keep his mouth from curving, his wits from deserting him to go frolic with his imagination in a place that involved him and Bethany and not much clothing. Definitely not that skirt. “Are you saying children aren’t our future?” he asked with spurious confusion.

She shifted her hold on the baby, and the movement emphasized the high, full curve of her breasts. “You made it plain you’re not interested in my kidney patients, so why should I believe you have any real concern for this child?”

But he hadn’t invited her here to examine his motives. All he needed was for her to check the baby over and leave. Then he could get Operation Family Man under way. Still, he couldn’t resist saying, “You’re carrying a grudge because I didn’t give you all the money you wanted, and it’s clouding your judgment. You need to admit that was your own fault.”

Bethany’s face heated. So much for Tyler being either amnesiac or love-struck to the point of forgetting her humiliation. Yes, she’d brought it on herself…but he hadn’t helped. She’d been sucked in by his charm—the charm she’d been too naive to realize was hardwired into him and freely dispensed to every female he came across—and in the misguided belief she’d already won him over, she’d wandered away from the scientific facts to support her case and detoured into anecdote.

Halfway through her pitch, she’d realized she’d lost Tyler’s attention. He’d still been giving her that encouraging smile, but he’d glanced at his watch a half-dozen times, yawned more than once. She’d scrambled to get back onto the solid ground of medical fact, lost track, dropped her notes and been too nervous to take a break and sort them out. She’d garbled her way through, and just as she hit the crux of her case, Tyler—

“You winked at me!” she accused.

“I did not.” He widened his eyes, as if to prove there was no winking going on. At the same time, his brows lowered in a puzzled frown that hinted she was being irrational.

“When I pitched to your committee.” The baby hiccuped and she rubbed his back in a circular motion. “You sat there not listening to a word I said and then you winked.”

“That’s why you’re so touchy? Because I winked?” Tyler ignored the way Bethany stiffened at being called touchy. “I could see you felt awkward and I guessed it was because of that thing between us…”

“What thing?” she demanded.

“That…awareness, that—” he flung a hand wide to encompass the full spectrum of sexual attraction “—edge. It’s here again, right now, even when you’re mad at me.”

Her face was blank. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tyler snorted. No way was this all on his side. There’d been a real and definite connection between them and it hadn’t abated. He was used to women finding him attractive and, less often, to experiencing a mutual chemistry. If the situation wasn’t appropriate, he could shrug it off and get on with the job. But he could see Bethany inhabited a less sophisticated planet than the women he dated. That big doctor brain of hers was probably a handicap when it came to something as simple as sexual attraction.

“You winked,” she said again, a note of revelation creeping into the words.

Being an egghead was no excuse for not understanding the basics. “I told you,” he said impatiently, “I did it because you—”

“While I was putting my heart into that pitch, you were flirting?”

CHAPTER THREE

“I WAS READING your signals,” Tyler corrected her. “And I acknowledged them. I was being polite.”

Just when Bethany had thought she’d reached the pinnacle of embarrassment, he’d thrown this at her. Why didn’t he just come out and say he thought she was an all-round loser, and sex-starved to boot?

“I was pitching for the most important thing in my life,” she said in a tight, strained voice. If she hadn’t been holding the baby, she would have yelled.

The baby whimpered. Through his hat, she nuzzled the top of his sweet little head with her chin, a caress intended to soothe herself as much as him.

No wonder Tyler hadn’t taken her pitch seriously, if his rampant ego had decided she was making a pass at him.

“If you weren’t giving me any signals—”

“I wasn’t,” she snapped.

“Then my…wink was out of order. I apologize.”

Bethany saw the opening and dived for it. “You need to let me pitch again, right away.”

He grinned. “Nice try.”

The baby wriggled against her, and automatically she noted his good neck control—he had to be at least a couple of months old. “You can’t have made an objective decision, if you thought I was flirting.”

“Women flirt with me all the time. I don’t take it seriously,” he said, half laughing, half irritated. “Look, Bethany, I promise the reason you only got fifty thousand dollars was because that’s the maximum the team thought your work deserved. I didn’t underpay you because I thought you were flirting.”

“And you’re certain you weren’t—” it sounded stupid, but she had to say it “—so distracted by your attraction to me that you failed to grasp all aspects of my presentation?” Because that happened to her all the time. Not.

“I swear I wasn’t.” His face was so grave she just knew he was laughing hysterically inside. “It wasn’t even an attraction. It was an awareness, a spark. Not that you’re not very attractive,” he added hastily, as if she was about to take offense on a whole new scale. “But…you must know your presentation didn’t do you any favors.”

The fire left Bethany, and suddenly she was cold. “No,” she agreed quietly. And now that she’d accused him of being in the thrall of an overwhelming attraction to her, how likely was it he’d give her more money when they met next week?

She’d blown it again.

“Can we start over?” he said, evidently deciding he’d neutralized her.

Start over. That’s what she’d have to do with her research funding. Nausea churned in her stomach.

“I asked you in here to examine the baby, to check if he’s healthy,” Tyler said.

“Of course.” She could at least do something for this child, get that right.

“There’s a meeting room that adjoins this office.” Tyler pointed to a door halfway along the far wall. “You can use the table in there.” He looked at the baby, now dozing against her shoulder. “I’ll carry your bag.”

She followed him into a room that, like his office, had expansive views over midtown. Instead of a desk, it held a long table flanked by leather-upholstered chairs.

“How about you hold this little fellow while I set up?” Bethany said.

Tyler took the infant from her, held him at arm’s length, like a puppy that had rolled in something nasty and needed a good hose-down.

“He won’t bite,” she said.

“It’s more the barfing I’m worried about.” He glanced down at the fine wool of his jacket, which fitted his shoulders snugly enough to reveal their breadth, while still allowing fluidity of movement.

“That’s why I don’t buy custom-made suits,” she sympathized. “I don’t mind dropping a thousand dollars on a new suit, it’s the twenty bucks for the dry cleaning that kills me.”

He gave her a hard look, but he took the hint, held the baby closer. The little boy’s head flopped against Tyler’s chest, a tiny thumb went into his mouth. Then a fist curled around Tyler’s lapel. Tyler looked less than thrilled.

Bethany tore open a plastic pack and pulled out a sterile mat. “I hope you’ve baby-proofed your house, because these critters get into everything.” The baby was several months away from that stage, but why not give Tyler a scare?

“Luckily I had that done last year, on the off chance someone abandoned a baby on me.”

She frowned so she wouldn’t smile.

“But even if I hadn’t,” he continued, “this guy looks too young for me to worry about him digging out the magazines from under my bed.”

Her head jerked up.

“Car magazines,” he said blandly. “I only buy them for the pictures.”

From her bag, Bethany took out the items she’d need for her examination. She rescued the baby from Tyler, laid him on the mat. Instantly wide-awake, he gurgled up at her. “Can you imagine how desperate his mom must have been,” she mused aloud, “to abandon a cutie like this?”

“Why do you think she did it?” Tyler perked up.

“It’s more common to abandon babies at birth if the pregnancy was a secret or if the mom had no support. At this age…possibly if he had a birth defect or a serious illness she couldn’t handle…” She unsnapped the yellow sleeper and began to remove the garment. “But there’s nothing obviously wrong with this guy.” She appreciated the healthy pink tone of the baby’s skin. Too often the youngsters she saw in the E.R. were either pale or flushed from illness. “I’m wondering if there’ll be some clue to his name, maybe a wristband or ankle band under these clothes.”

“Uh-huh.” Tyler was looking at the baby, but the tapping of one black loafer on the carpet told her his thoughts were elsewhere.

A thought struck Bethany. “You don’t know his name, do you?”

That brought his gaze back to her. “It wasn’t in the note, so how could I?”

She waited before she replied, listening through her stethoscope to the baby’s heart. He’d flinched when the cold metal touched his chest, but he didn’t cry. Heart rate of one-fifty, perfectly normal.

“It occurs to me,” she said carefully as she coiled her stethoscope, “that this might be your son.”

He jerked backward. “Mine?”

“I mean—” she put a thermometer to the baby’s ear, relieved she didn’t have to meet Tyler’s gaze as she elaborated “—your…love child.”

She didn’t expect the silence. It was unnerving, so much so that even after the thermometer beeped a normal reading, she kept looking at the display.

“Tell me that’s a joke,” he said.

She swallowed. “I have to ask. I’m a doctor, I have my patient’s best interests in mind.”

“You’re not just a gossip with a juicy story to spread?” he asked silkily.

“Certainly not.” She put the thermometer away.

“Because if a rumor like that got around, it could do me a lot of damage.”

Bewildered, she said, “Tyler, according to the newspapers, you’ve dated half the women in Atlanta and the other half are eagerly awaiting their turn. Miss Georgia must know she’s the latest in a long line.”

“Professional damage,” he elaborated. “And for your information, dating a lot of women doesn’t mean I’m siring love children—” he embellished her euphemism with sarcasm “—all over town, then neglecting them until their mothers abandon them.”

“Only one love child,” she corrected reasonably. Then, when his face darkened, “If you say he’s not yours, I believe you. But like you said, you’re Atlanta’s favorite son, you could get away with—”

“Forget it,” he said with flat finality.

Bethany pressed her lips together and conducted the rest of her checks on the baby in silence. She put a finger in his mouth, ran it over his gums. Next, she pulled a brightly colored rattle from her bag, held it above and in front of the baby. His eyes focused on the toy, and when she moved it to her left and then her right, his gaze followed. When she put the rattle down on the table, the little boy turned his head to see it. His hand reached out, found only air, and he gave a squirm of frustration.

Bethany picked up the toy, held it to the tips of his fingers. He curled his fingers around it, held it for a moment, then dropped it. “Hmm, I’d say he’s hit three months.”

“How do you know that?”

She’d forgotten momentarily that she wasn’t talking to Tyler after he’d accused her of being a gossip. Nonetheless, she magnanimously decided to share her conclusions with him. “He’s able to follow an object with his eyes and grasp it, but he’s not rolling over, though he’s in good health, with plenty of fat, plus good muscle development. And there’s no sign of teething.”

There was a knock, then Olivia stuck her head around the door. “I have diapers. And something called baby wipes.”

“Perfect timing.” Bethany pulled the tapes on the diaper the baby wore. “Bring them in.”

She tugged the wet diaper out from under the baby. She gave his private parts a quick check, then Olivia handed her a fresh diaper and a wipe. The secretary left the room double quick.

“On all the obvious measures he’s fine, a healthy little guy,” Bethany said as she fastened the clean diaper. She glanced at Tyler. “I still think it’s best if I call social services and have them pick him up.” She began to dress the baby again.

Tyler shook his head. “I can’t throw him into the welfare system when his mom asked me to take him. Who knows what might happen to him.”

“I know.” She gathered the baby in her arms. “Social services will send someone to get him. They might be satisfied with my medical assessment, or they might take him to another doctor. While they try to find his mom, they’ll place him with a foster parent who knows how to look after a baby,” she said with heavy emphasis. “Someone who’ll care about him.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then his gaze flicked down to the baby in her arms. “Thanks very much for your professional advice, Dr. Hart. Be sure and send Olivia your bill.”

Just like that he was dismissing her. He even had the nerve to offer her that meaningless smile, the one he’d given when he’d dismissed her pitch.

He would do the same at their meeting next week. It wouldn’t make any difference if she was coherent, babbling or speaking Swahili.

Bethany’s future flashed before her eyes, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. She’d have to pull out of the research team at Emory; she’d been a late addition to the team, accepted on the basis of her funding from the foundation. Every cent was allocated, they couldn’t carry freeloaders. She would have to start traipsing around the charitable foundations, submitting applications, presenting her case. And every time, she’d be up against dozens of other worthy projects.

This could mean the end of the goal she’d worked toward since she was thirteen years old.

She could find a way to deal with the recriminations from her parents—she just wouldn’t answer her phone for a year—but knowing she’d failed to do the one thing that would make any sense of Melanie’s death…that would haunt her.

Now Tyler stood before her, frowning with faint confusion, as if he couldn’t understand why she was still in his office, still holding “his” baby. He didn’t give a damn about the children she hoped to save. Did he care about anyone, other than himself?