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.
* * *
T
HIS
WAS
M
IKE
’
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.
The sight of an unshaven man shambling toward the van from the inland side yanked Mike from his musings. The women had gone indoors, leaving the vehicle wide-open, and the guy halted to assess its contents. His sunken cheeks and etched facial lines hinted of substance abuse, reminding Mike about the halfway house.
The man peered furtively around and shifted closer to the van. He didn’t seem to notice Mike, probably due to the angle of the sun.
Sunlight flashed off a blue car turning from Seaside Lane. Mike’s pulse tipped upward at the prospect of seeing Paige. Good thing he was here, in view of the uninvited visitor next door.
The garage door rolled up and she pulled straight in. The shaggy fellow remained by the van, watching. Purse over her shoulder, Paige strode out.
The man let out a wolf whistle that made her flinch. “Hey, babe. You’re a long cool drink of water,” he called. “Wanna get some breakfast?”
Paige shot him an irritated glance and clicked the garage door shut. “No, thanks.”
The man edged onto the driveway, only a few yards from her. “It was a friendly offer. There’s no need to be rude.”
Mike had had enough. With deliberate slowness, he rose and straightened to his full height. “The lady said no.”
The interloper cast one glance at Mike and shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Let me give you a tip. Women don’t like being treated like sex objects.” As he strolled toward them, Mike caught an appreciative twitch of Paige’s mouth as he more or less quoted her own words.
“I wasn’t…”
Paige joined in. “Don’t call me babe. Don’t tell me I’m a long drink of water. And when I frown at you, take a hint and leave me alone.”
“Touchy, touchy.”
Just then, one of the renters trudged out of the house carrying a large picnic basket and a stack of oversize towels. “Don’t leave your van unguarded,” Mike advised her. “This isn’t a secure area.”
“I didn’t take anything!” protested Mr. Shaggy, a bit too quickly.
“Nobody said you did.” Mike met the man’s stare directly.
The guy’s jaw wagged, but apparently he thought better of mouthing off. Bullies tended to back down when faced with an obviously superior force. That didn’t, unfortunately, mean they’d been defanged.
As the creep turned and headed down the block, Paige shot Mike a grateful glance. “Thanks. I could have dealt with him but you made it a lot easier. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m beat.” With a sleepy blink, she headed into the house.
“Yeah. Thanks from me, too.” The woman next door pushed a lock of blonde hair from her cheek. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
“Lucky for you I was here this morning or you’d be minus some of your belongings.” Mike didn’t return her flirtatious tone. “You should exercise more caution.”
“You sound like a cop,” she grumbled.
“That’s because I used to be one.” Without waiting for a reply, Mike followed Paige inside. He’d done the renter a favor by issuing a warning. If she and her buddies chose to learn their lessons the hard way, that was their right.
Finding Paige in the living room he said, “Sounds like you had a long night.”
She nodded wearily. Even her once-crisp brown slacks and beige blouse seemed to droop. While he could see she must have worked hard, Mike got the sense something more was weighing on her.