SH Medical 08 - The Baby Dilemma Page 5

  Paige blinked hard. “I know he didn’t get in, but it’s upsetting.”

  “You feel violated,” Mike suggested. “That’s natural.”

  “I figured it was convenient, being able to enter directly into the bathroom when I was covered in sand.” Paige gulped. “Now it seems so exposed.”

  “It’s a good thing you have an alarm.” At the top of the window, the small sensor box remained in place. If not for that, she’d have returned home alone, possibly at night, and received a shock. No telling what the guy might have done, or who else might have followed him inside.

  “I’d like to check the bedroom windows,” the patrolman said.

  “Of course.” Paige showed them into a charming, old-fashioned bedroom where her delicious, light fragrance enfolded Mike. He could picture Paige wrapping her long legs around him as they sank onto that queen-size quilt.

  Down, boy.

  Opening the curtains, George surveyed the windowsill. “Doesn’t appear disturbed.”

  “Why would it be?” she asked.

  “When he couldn’t get through the door, he might have tried somewhere else.”

  Paige shivered. “The guest room’s over here.” She escorted them past the bathroom to a slightly smaller chamber. Here, someone had decorated in a more formal style: dark, high-poster bed, lace coverlet and a bureau with small drawers. “All clear in here, too,” George said after examining the windows.

  “What happens now?” Paige asked as they returned to the living room.

  “We’ll take him in to sober up. I expect he’ll face misdemeanor charges, especially if he’s willing to pay restitution.”

  “I won’t have to deal with him myself, will I?”

  “Most likely he’ll pay through the court,” George assured her.

  “I’ve got a coverall in my trunk.” Mike always carried several changes of clothing. “If it’s okay, I’ll put it on and hose off your rear steps.”

  Paige shot him a warm look. “I would be grateful.”

  “If you can’t get somebody out to replace the glass on a Saturday night, I recommend boarding that up,” George added.

  “I can take care of it.” Mike kept a tool kit handy. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself.” He didn’t underestimate Paige’s home repair skills. Being a surgeon, she could no doubt handle tools as well as he could.

  “I’m not sure I can run to the store and finish before I go on call at eight,” Paige said. “Mike, I appreciate this…”

  “…but that doesn’t mean you want to rent me a room,” he said. “Believe me, there are no strings attached.”

  “That room’s for rent?” George piped up.

  “You already have a roommate,” Mike growled. The two partners had once hosted a barbecue at the rental they shared.

  “Calm down. I meant for one of the women at the station.” The patrolman grinned. “But I can take a hint.”

  Mike wished he’d kept his big mouth shut. Now his former coworkers would be making jokes at his expense. Well, since they involved a knockout of a lady, that wasn’t entirely bad.

  Paige shivered as they went outside. “I keep thinking, what if he’d gotten inside?”

  “You might have found him asleep in bed like Goldilocks,” George replied. “Only a whole lot uglier.”

  The remark startled a chuckle from Paige. “I guess there is a funny side to this.”

  In the squad car, the perp sagged against the rear door, while on the nearby lawn guests stood around drinking and regarding the scene as if it had been staged for their entertainment.

  “They’ll crank up the music as soon as the cruiser leaves,” Paige muttered, observing the scene from the patio.

  “Want me to make sure they don’t?” Mike asked.

  Her neck and shoulders relaxed, as if taking comfort from his offer. “Thanks, but you’re doing more than enough as it is.”

  “Okay. I’d better get started.” He calculated the tasks ahead. Wash the steps, measure the broken window and swing by the home improvement store. En route, he’d stop at home, change into jeans and hang up the tuxedo so it didn’t sustain damage.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Paige went inside and returned with a key. “In case I have to go out, just let yourself in. I’ll reset the alarm. The code number is 6543.”

  Mike slipped the key into his pocket. “Any special meaning?” He was good at recalling numbers, but a hint would cement the memory.

  “I started with the number of kids in my family and worked down from there. Not very imaginative.”

  “Better than using your birth date like a lot of people do.” A burglar could easily get that information from the internet or by stealing mail.

  Next door, the music resumed at a less ear-splitting level. Someone had gotten the message, Mike reflected with satisfaction.

  So here he stood on Paige’s patio with her key in his pocket, watching the police car head down the street. It was, Mike couldn’t help thinking, the perfect opportunity to persuade her to rent to him.

  Earlier, she’d objected to his manipulative remarks, and once she recovered her equanimity, she’d resent him for taking advantage of her misfortune. Relationships worked better with a bit of space, anyway. “Listen,” Mike said. “You were right about not wanting me to move in.”

  Her mouth quirked. “I was?”

  “For starters, I’ve got my own furniture and a treadmill.” While no doubt he could figure out a way around that, her furnishings did pose an obstacle.

  “Oh! That stuff belonged to my aunt Bree’s longtime roommate, who died four years ago.”

  “This is your aunt’s house? I thought you owned it.”

  “I do. She died a few days before Christmas and left it to me.” Paige shaded her eyes against the lowering sun. “I was planning to sell the extra furniture to an antiques store if my new roommate didn’t need it. I wouldn’t mind getting rid of it sooner rather than later.”

  “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind about renting to me?” Mike couldn’t resist asking.

  She gazed at him uncertainly. “I…”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. Like I said, you were right the first time. We’re getting along, and I’d like us to keep on getting along. But if you’re still feeling off balance, I could stay over tonight. By tomorrow you should feel back to normal, and hopefully your neighbors will be too hungover to pester you.”

  Relief showed on her face. “Thanks. Actually, they’re moving out tomorrow, but since there’s no connecting door from the garage into the house, I have to walk outside. I won’t be coming home until morning, but…”

  “No explanations necessary.” Best to get his chores under way, Mike decided. The longer they stood here talking, the more aware he became of her soft lips and her chest rising and falling beneath the form-fitting dress. “I’ll get to work.”

  She took a deep breath, which had a spectacular effect on her cleavage and on his nervous system. “Make yourself at home. I’ll put sheets on the spare bed.”

  “Don’t bother. I can pick up my bedroll and camp out on the couch. The bed’s kind of short for me anyway.” Now, Paige’s bed would suit him much better. There you go again.

  This mister-nice-guy approach was driving Mike crazy. Thank goodness he only had to keep it up until tomorrow.

  “Okay, then. After I change, I’ll clean up the glass,” Paige told him.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  She disappeared inside the house, where she was about to strip off her tantalizing gown. It didn’t take much imagination to picture a lacy bra straining over those lovely breasts, and her bare navel inviting his hands to close around her slender waist.

  Mike groaned. It was going to be
a long night.

  Chapter Five

  At the hospital that night, when she wasn’t checking on a patient or delivering a baby, Paige couldn’t stop thinking about Mike sleeping over at her house. Maybe it had been a mistake to accept his offer. Yet the prospect of him standing guard calmed the jitters that started up every time a beeper went off or a loud page came over the intercom. She’d never imagined she would react so powerfully to a simple broken window. Especially considering that the perpetrator had been caught.

  During her residency, Paige had learned to let go of matters beyond her control. Otherwise, every time you had to give bad news to a patient, it broke your heart. Not all women could succeed in bearing a child and not every illness could be cured. Now she brought that hard-earned focus to bear on her work. And the pregnant women of Safe Harbor cooperated by keeping her very, very busy.

  Paige was on her feet all night with only a few breaks to catch a nap. She handled four uncomplicated deliveries, a breech birth in which she managed to get the baby safely turned around, and a Cesarean section that ushered a twin boy and girl into the world. Although they were a month early, they emerged alert and breathing on their own.

  During a slow moment, Paige went to the nursery to check on them. She found neonatologist Jared Sellers just finishing his examination of the boy.

  “They both look great.” The dark-haired young doctor rediapered the five-pound newborn. “Maybe they’ll bring us good luck.” His voice thickened with emotion.

  “Of course they will!” she answered.

  Jared’s wife, Lori, Dr. Rayburn’s nurse, had been trying for the past six months to get pregnant. About sixty percent of women became pregnant within that length of time, and although another fifteen percent achieved pregnancy naturally in the next three months, Lori was in her midthirties and worried about declining fertility. Last month, she’d come to see Paige and they’d begun checking her ovulation and hormone levels, along with Jared’s sperm. So far, everything seemed fine, but further tests remained. The two of them joked about the fact that, since Lori had assisted at Paige’s inseminations, they were helping each other get pregnant.

  For a moment, Paige wondered if Jared was about to make a reference to her own situation, but he gave no sign that it even occurred to him. Good. Lori shouldn’t have mentioned it, although Paige could imagine how easily confidential information might slip out when husband and wife worked at the same facility.

  Instead, his entire attention riveted on the baby boy he was wrapping in a blanket. Tenderness and longing shone in his dark eyes.

  How fortunate Lori was, to share her hopes and dreams with this loving husband. To have his encouragement through her monthly disappointments and, someday, his support during a pregnancy. Afterward, too, for all the years of child rearing.

  A knot formed in Paige’s chest. If only…

  Oh, for heaven’s sake! She didn’t need a man like Jared, or like Nora’s doting Lock, or like Mike. Especially not like Mike. Although he didn’t seem so obnoxious since she’d read him the riot act, in her current state of exhaustion and possible hormone flux, she couldn’t be objective.

  Fortunately, the nursery drew Paige’s thoughts to a more pleasant subject. She moved about the dimly lit room peeking at the other infants she’d delivered tonight. All healthy, all contented in their bassinets. What adorable little people, with their wrinkly faces and tiny hands.

  What would they look like in a few months, and in later years? She always loved when patients brought in their growing babies to show how they were developing. While she’d only practiced at Safe Harbor for eight months, she’d been with her previous group long enough to watch some of her patients’ babies grow into the toddler years.

  “I hope Lori gets pregnant soon,” Paige said. “For your sake and, hey, I’ll get credit in the contest.”

  Jared grinned. “I think it’s totally unfair that only obstetricians get to participate.”

  “In consultation with our staff,” Paige reminded him.

  “The pediatricians and neonatologists get left out,” he grumbled playfully. “Except for Samantha, of course.”

  In March, Dr. Tartikoff had announced a nine-month-long contest to spur staff morale, gain publicity and encourage use of the latest fertility techniques and procedures. The doctor who achieved the highest pregnancy rate among fertility patients would win a hundred-thousand-dollar donation to his or her favorite charity. Because the hospital didn’t want to encourage potentially risky multiple births, each pregnancy counted only once, regardless of the number of babies per mom.

  With such a large amount at stake, doctors had begun lobbying among their colleagues for their favorite causes. Informal alliances had sprung up, with multiple doctors pledging to support the same charities. Pediatrician Samantha Forrest argued strongly for a community clinic she’d founded a few years ago to provide counseling and referrals to low-income families, women and teen mothers. Its chief competition came from a grant program proposed by obstetrician Zack Sargent to aid fertility patients who lacked insurance coverage for their treatments.

  “I doubt I’ll be anywhere near the front-runners,” Paige observed. “I prefer to let patients proceed at their own pace rather than pushing them into in vitro.”

  “We appreciate that,” Jared said. “There are some impressive new developments, but there’s a price to be paid. Financially and physically.”

  “Not to mention emotionally,” Paige pointed out.

  “That, too.”

  She and Nora had an ongoing disagreement with Dr. T, who pressed for aggressive treatment of almost all cases. In Paige’s opinion that did many patients a disservice, costing them thousands of dollars and putting them through procedures that might be unnecessary. On the other hand, it did increase their chances of conceiving quickly.

  “Have you taken sides on the charity issue?” Jared asked as they walked out of the nursery.

  “I guess I favor Zack’s program. It would help some of my patients,” Paige said. “The counseling center does fill a need, though. I’m especially concerned about the teen mothers.”

  “In my present mood, I’d vote for helping fertility patients,” Jared remarked. “But I’m biased.”

  “Understandable.”

  In the hall, they went their separate ways. With a jolt, Paige saw that the small third-floor pharmacy was open. Overnight, only the larger second-floor pharmacy was staffed to meet urgent hospital demand. Now she had to deal with an issue she’d been postponing.

  An overhead clock gave the time as 6:10 a.m. No wonder her eyes felt scratchy and she kept stifling yawns. She’d barely grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep in the on-call room. Not as young as I used to be.

  Paige’s throat clenched. Why was she so reluctant to take a pregnancy test? Because it might come up negative—or because it might not?

  When she’d left the labor and delivery ward, there’d been several women in labor. Any minute, she was likely to get beeped. And experience taught that babies conspired to come in a rush.

  Better get this over with.

  Gathering her courage, Paige went to pick up a pregnancy test kit.

  * * *

  THIS WAS MIKE’S IDEA of heaven. A plate of frozen waffles drenched in syrup—the good stuff, with real sugar—eaten with an appetite sharpened by the sea breeze. Lounging at the round patio table, he surveyed the cozy cottages across the street, their flower boxes cheery in the sunshine. The murmur of the surf and the mewing of seagulls were the only sounds to break the Sunday morning quiet.

  At the neighbor’s house, the front door slammed. A bleary-eyed woman in her twenties hauled a couple of suitcases toward a van in the driveway. Two more young women followed, loaded with skateboards, swim fins and scooters.

  They were getting an
early start, considering that their music hadn’t cut off until nearly 2 a.m. Since the van bore Nevada plates, Mike figured they had a long drive ahead.

  Under other circumstances, he’d have volunteered to help them haul stuff. But in light of how inconsiderate they’d been, he decided to let the renters wrestle with their own luggage. Having found a parking space on the street last night, he had a clear view across the driveway as the less-than-ladies tried to stuff their gear into the van, snapping at each other all the while.

  Life had a way of meting out fit punishments, he mused. Hangovers, for instance. He’d suffered his share of those in his younger days.

  The breeze picked up, a pleasant counterpoint to the sunshine. Past the end of the street, the surf rumbled, and every now and then Mike caught the enthusiastic calls of surfers enjoying the higher-than-normal waves, the gift of a tropical storm off Mexico.

  Despite the likelihood of more party animals to come, he’d sure relish living here. Dropping by his house yesterday to change clothes and grab his sleeping bag had reaffirmed how much he wanted to be gone before the newlyweds returned from their honeymoon. Paige’s cottage might be small, but it was free of baby gear, it lay an easy stroll to the beach and it came with an Irish goddess in residence. Okay, not a goddess—a complicated woman.

  That reminded him uneasily of something he’d noticed while fixing the bathroom door. Her magazine rack displayed a couple of medical journals, a women’s magazine stuffed with diet and cooking tips, and a copy of Today’s Baby.

  Why would an obstetrician need a consumer-oriented baby magazine? Especially since he’d spotted her address printed on the cover. She hadn’t subscribed out of idle curiosity.

  He might be drawn to her like iron to a magnet. But long-term, this relationship didn’t stand a chance. She was obviously the mom type, while his interest in babies ended with his nieces and nephews.

  Mike stretched and listened to the murmur of the ocean. If only they could explore their mutual temptation without leaving either of them in emotional shreds.