Authors: Imani King
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The Billionaire Baby Doctor
He took me in his arms, hands slipping around my waist, and bent a little over my rounded belly to whisper in my ear. “God I want you, Teagen…” His voice was low, sexy, almost growling with desire, thrumming in my ears. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.”
My cheeks grew hot. “You’re just saying that.”
His sky blue eyes flashed stormy. “Not at all. The way your skin glows, the fullness of your breasts, your belly,” he paused as he kissed me, lips trailing from my neck to my cheek, my cheek to my mouth. The flame grew inside me as his tongue met mine, each touch a need, a desire, and a desire quenched, only to build more. My breath quickened as his lips slipped down to my collarbone, to my newly generous cleavage. My nipples pebbled under his touch.
“Oh Christopher,” I breathed. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Not half as crazy as you’re making me,” he said, slipping one hand around my ass cheek, and pressing me into his hard length. He began to pull down the fabric around my neckline, teasing my skin with his silky lips.
It makes me think back to how this all started… and how unlikely it all was.
Dr. Marcus Finnegan, the old, kindly doctor I’d seen for years, looked at me sympathetically. After knowing me for so long, I was sure it was difficult for him to tell me anything bad.
“I am sorry, dear,” he said, “to be the one to say this, but I am afraid it is possible that you likely won’t be able to have children. We don’t advise infertility treatments for single women, in general, as they aren’t covered under insurance for one. Especially at your age. You’re a young thing! And when the time comes, you can always adopt. You never know what life will throw at you. Maybe you’ll marry someone with a whole slew of kids.”
He patted my hand, but to no avail. The message hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t have a clue what to say, especially since my throat seemed to be closing up with held-back tears.
“I understand, Dr. Finnegan,” I said. “Thank you for your kindness.” This last came out a bit choked.
“I’ll leave you be, dear,” he said, standing up. “You take the room for as long as you want. We can use the other examination room while you collect yourself.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I burbled, grabbing my things, and stuffing them in my purse. Everything was growing blurry as my eyes were filling with tears.
I don’t know why it’s so important for me to have a baby now.
Yes I do.
When my little sister passed away, I knew that my first priority was going to be to fill my household as soon as possible with the sound of giggling, shouting, running, stamping – even crying. The kind of crying you do when you skin your knee, or drop your ice cream cone. Not the silent tears you try to hold back in front of your other daughter. No, I wanted a household that was like we had until she was seven. Happy, loud. Not the mausoleum it turned into. My mother, Shandra, was devastated. Of course. Losing a child must be the most difficult thing in the world. But sometimes, the grief of the parents is like a pall that fills the entire household, and the surviving children get buried under that weight. This was something I knew all too well.
“Teagen,” my mother would say, from the couch, hand draped across her forehead. “Please, I have a headache. Don’t make so much noise. Not today, honey.” Some days I would skulk away to my room, trying not to pout, trying not to be angry at my poor sister. Other times I would lay next to her and watch the faraway look in her eyes, cuddling and hoping for a squeeze or a hug. Instead I’d wipe away a tear. Hers, or my own.
And I knew if I did have a kid, my mother would be so happy to hear that laughter too. We both had so much love to give.
All this was flashing through my mind as I pulled my bag over my shoulder and followed the doctor out of the room, still trying to keep my composure, trying to stay as strong as I have always had to be. Always wanted to be. The doctor knocked and entered another room, and I was making my way to the door, when the receptionist called me back.
“Teagen,” she nearly stage-whispered, beckoning with her hand.
“Yes, Natasha?” I approached the desk hesitantly.
“You’re a nurse, right?” She picked up a card. “I’ve been asked to pass this out if I see anyone who might be right some work at a doctor’s office. He’s an OB-GYN, and he’s fantastic. Beautiful grounds, I understand, very posh. But all signs point to him being a great guy. And I never said this, but he’s gorgeous as well. You should go over for an interview.”
Hmm. Well, if I can’t have a baby, at least I can be around them. Help them come into being. And besides, it beats working at the office I work in now.
“Thanks Natasha,” I said, putting the card in my pocket. “Wonderful of you to think of me.”
I spent a couple of days vacillating between calling this doctor and not calling him.
“You have nothing to lose,” said Maia, my friend and roommate of two years. “You might as well just call?” She wrinkled her nose in a sympathetic way.
“I know. But will they be interested in me? Will it hurt too much to work there? Considering I am so desperate to have kids when I don’t even have a husband yet?”
“Your doctor is like, a hundred years old, he’s not going to be in favor of you having kids right now!” She laughed and poured another glass of Pinot. “But this guy sounds a lot younger, a lot more approachable. A lot hotter, too, by the sounds of things. You should go meet him.”
“What does that matter?” I said, handing her my glass with a decided motion. “I just want to get a better job and have a baby some day, I don’t care if he’s green and has three heads.”
“Wait – you don’t care if the baby has three heads?” She laughed. “Maybe you need to think this through, girl.”
“Nah, the doc!” I swatted her with the pillow. “Though it’s true, he is a fox. Do you want to see him?” I gestured to my laptop, which I had been using to research him.
“Thought you’d never ask!” She scooched beside me and sat down, eyes sparkling. “Let’s see the hot baby doctor!”
I opened my browser and immediately his page popped up. Lots of medical stuff, but in the center was a picture of Dr. Christopher Fox. His eyes were a penetrating blue, his dark hair pushed back from his face contrasting with a crisp white coat.
“Oooh,” said Maia. “Now that
is
a Dr. Fox!” She whistled low.
“I know – but look at this. It says he has a really high success rate. I’ve been researching it and nobody can touch him. I could never afford treatments, but if I worked there…”
“You should get
him
to inseminate you,” she said, half-joking, but half-seriously. “Those would be some awfully cute babies!”
“Well if it were that easy!”
“So why isn’t it?” Maia looked quizzical.
“Well I guess they’re not sure. A blockage, maybe due to scar tissue,” I said. “Or it could be hormonal. Regular doctors don’t have access to this kind of equipment. Or Insurance doesn’t bother with funding it.”
“Well looks like Dr. Fox has all the
equipment
you could ever need,” Maia grinned, raising her eyebrows up and down.
I bopped her with the couch cushion. “Oh hush now! “ We collapsed in giggles. But inwardly I have to admit that this doctor was tempting, and not only because of his magical abilities with baby-making. A girl could get lost in those eyes, and never find her way out again.
When I woke up the next morning, I was resolute. I was going to call this doctor. Good looking or no, that didn’t matter. I might be able to get a job, and who knows, maybe even a baby, as I always wanted! I nearly bounced down the stairs, truly happy for the first time in a while.
Hope is a wonderful thing.
I pictured my little girl (or it could be a boy, it didn’t matter – as long as it was a baby) in her high chair, waiting for her bottle. Looking adorable with her sweet eyes and fat cheeks. Or maybe a few years later, a boy running around in swim trunks, water wings flaring his spindly arms.
The smell of the freshly brewing coffee hit my nostrils and I breathed in happily. I could picture the boy running up to me, calling for a popsicle, looking at me with his big blue eyes –
wait
.
Blue eyes.
My hand flew to my mouth.
They were the blue eyes of Dr. Fox, not my big baby browns. I shook my head, trying to dispel the silly visions. But I had to admit, they were beautiful.
The phone rang.
“It’s Natasha? From Dr. Finnegan’s office? We spoke the other day?”
“Ah yes, Natasha! How are you?”
“I’m good. Look I just wanted to see how you are doing with that information I gave you. Have you made any decisions about moving forward?”
“Well nothing firm, but I am definitely interested.”
“I’m glad to hear that because their office just called and they asked me if I could recommend someone to interview. Only thing is, is – it’s this afternoon.”
“I see.” Racing over to my calendar, I whipped it open. Scanning it. There was nothing I couldn’t move.
“I can set it up for you if you can make the appointment.” I could hear her concern over the phone. “I’d love for you to get this job!”
“Book it,” I said, the words flying out of my mouth as if they had a will of their own.
I could hear her smile over the phone lines.
“Sounds good, Teagen. 2:45 today…” As she rattled on, with directions and things to bring and ask, my mind was racing.
Would it be possible? Could I possibly have a baby? I had everything else I needed in life. A decent job if not perfect, a house that I was paying off. If I could some day have a baby too, my life would be complete.
A small voice piped up from the back of my mind, but I pushed it away.
What about a man, Teagen? Don’t you want a man?
Who needs a man when you have a great roommate and a baby?
I was expecting a hospital, but the office was on the ground floor of an old mansion in a really nice part of town. At first I wasn’t sure I was in the right place, until I saw a tastefully small sign. It simply read, “Dr. Christopher Fox,” in what I assumed was brass. The place was surrounded by gorgeous gardens, and I touched the flowers gently as I walked down the cobblestone steps to the heavy wooden door. My heart was doing the can-can in my chest as I raised my hand to knock, but I heard a buzz and the door popped open. I walked in cautiously.
“Hello, are you here to interview?” A young blonde woman with high cheekbones and a mellifluous voice was checking a clipboard. “Teagen Mayfield?”
“That’s me,” I said. The office was astoundingly luxurious.
…Are these walls hand-carved wood? Who has hand-carved wooden walls?
I sank down on a plush leather sofa, taking in shelves of books.
I would have felt nervous, everything coming down to this moment, all my dreams coming true, but everything in this office seemed calculated for maximum calm. From the soft music to the rich surroundings to the texture of the leather I was ensconced in, I just felt like putting my feet up and settling in.
I was considering it when suddenly the door swung open. “Teagen?” called a young woman in scrubs, with sparkling eyes. “Would you like to come this way?”
The diplomas on the walls were all from the best schools, and all had his name emblazoned in the center. “Christopher Lawrence Fox.” A part of me wished that they had pictures. Looking into those blue eyes live would be both sexy and unsettling, after my daydream of a little son. But that was silly. Those eyes would be mostly sexy.
And the door swung open, and I was right. The blue-eyed fox, in person, was grinning widely. He seemed a bit surprised.
“You’re Teagen Mayfield?”
“The one and only,” I said for some dumb reason.
Curse my stupid mouth. No matter, he was grinning.
And he stuck out his hand, which I shook quickly and dropped just as fast. His grip was strong, warm, and a shot of electricity went through me straight to my core.
What if he examines me sometime and I got wet?
came the panicked thought in my head.
Think of baseball, Teagen!
I grinned back at him.
“Excellent. Have a seat.” His eyes were even more mesmerizing in person than they were in the picture. Warm as his handshake. He pulled up a chair, steepled his fingers in front of his face, and said, “Thanks so much for coming in today, Teagen! Would you like to tell me about yourself?”
It was hard to concentrate, seeing this doctor in person, that was for sure. But if I wanted this job I had to. “I’ve always been fascinated with babies, and always wanted one, although it looks like I might have some trouble in that regard. My love of babies and children is the reason I became a nurse in the first place. So when I was referred to you, I thought I better come over and see just what it is you needed around here”.
“Well that’s wonderful! You’ve come to the right place,” he said lightly. “I am looking for a nurse to help with operations, and she needs to have a few different qualities – but loving babies is definitely one of them.” I could see a bit of concern in his face but couldn’t read why. We continued to talk, the conversation flowing like water, when finally he said, “Well if I can ever be of help with your baby situation, I’d love to pass on whatever I could.” His sweet smile made me melt – and somehow dissolved some barrier that was inside me, allowing me to really let him know what I was going through.
“I don’t know. I want a baby so badly, but it seems like my body won’t cooperate. Even when I did have a boyfriend I didn’t have a single scare despite playing pretty fast and loose – what can I say, I was younger and dumber – and now I want to try on my own for real, but my doctor says he thinks it won’t work. They’re not sure why.”
“So,” he cleared his throat. “I take it there’s no Mr. Teagen Mayfield in the picture?”
“No, which is another reason I am here. The insurance won’t cover any treatment unless I am married.”
“I see. Yes, that can be a bit of a stumbling block. What’s the hurry though, if I may ask?”
There was something about the way he asked that, like he wasn’t hurrying me at all, that made me open up to him. It felt strange to get this personal in a job interview, but I told him everything, about my sister, my mother, my dreams, my plans, and my life. He listened to every word, handed me tissue, and didn’t seem to be in any rush. He was just there, witnessing me, holding what I said with care.
“And you don’t want to try the old-fashioned way?” He said gently.
“Well I am not attached to anyone. I just want to be treated and have a baby.”
“Ah ha.” He rubbed his chin with his hand, looking off into the distance. “I understand your reasons. And there are some programs that might be able to help you,”
“But someday, doc, could you help me? You’re supposed to be very good.”
“Well you’re still so young,” he said, turning away. “We don’t know why you’re infertile, and tests can be done. But I have to be completely open and honest with you,” a flush came over his cheeks. “This has never happened to me before. I’ll just have to say it straight out – I am wildly attracted to you and I just don’t see how it would be possible for me to treat you. I also think it might be a bad idea to give you the job, though you seem perfect for it.” He turned around again, and I could see the cloud passing over his blue eyes. “Honestly I’m terribly embarrassed. I thought it was just a physical thing, easy to get over – but after listening to you tell your story, I just feel it wouldn’t be ethical for me to be your doctor, or even your employer. I’m so sorry. I would be happy to give you a reference to any of my colleagues just as soon as something comes up. I just I hope you understand.”
“I see…” I said it, but I really didn’t see at all.
I mean, I had to admit – I was wildly attracted to him as well. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t date him if this all worked out, or didn’t work it, did it?
“Well I won’t keep you then, doctor. I don’t want to waste your time.”
“It’s not a waste,” he said, fixing his eyes on me. “I don’t understand it either. But I need to ask you, would you like to meet me for dinner tonight? I want to find out what this feeling is. Is it just me?”
My vision from earlier flashed back into my mind – the boy from my daydream. Surely that was just as crazy, wasn’t it?
“Yes,” I said, and his face fell. “No! I mean, yes I accept your invitation. And no, it’s not just you. There’s something here, but I don’t know what it is.” The blush was warming my cheeks now. “Thank you, doctor.”
“Hey,” he said, touching my hand. “Call me Christopher.”
“Ok… Christopher,” I said, heart jumping a little as my mouth formed his name.