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“I’m going to listen to your heart, okay?” She unwrapped her stethoscope from her lab coat pocket and hung it around her neck.
At Sheffield Memorial it was policy that each doctor on a case would check vitals and make independent assessments. Attention to such details was one of the key factors that made Sheffield Memorial such a renowned teaching and research hospital, even if it was much smaller than most public institutions.
Despite Stephanie’s cheerful tone and slow movements, Maggie whimpered and drew back.
Anne spoke up. “She only lets Dr. Drake do that.”
Jason frowned. He hadn’t realized. Maggie had no reason to like him or trust him. He hadn’t asked for that. He only wanted to assess her symptoms, identify the problem and fix it.
Stephanie stepped back. “What if I listen to Mom’s heart first?”
Maggie shook her head. An emphatic no.
Anne stroked her daughter’s hair to calm her. “Could Dr. Montclair listen to Dr. Drake’s heart, then?”
The child grinned around the doll in her mouth.
He and Stephanie hadn’t touched, even to brush hands, since their break-up. The anticipation of her hands on him made his skin quiver.
He took a step back. “If we need to forgo this I can debrief you with all Maggie’s vitals as well as her current condition before the diagnostics meeting, Dr. Montclair.”
“I appreciate that. Now, let’s set a good example for Maggie and try the stethoscope.” Stephanie fitted the earpieces and waggled her finger at Jason to come closer. “Stand still and take a deep breath, Dr. Drake.”
When she placed her hand on his chest, the single layer of material between them did nothing to stop a spark arcing between her hand and his heart. He concentrated on keeping his heart-rate steady but failed miserably. He could feel the pounding in his ears. What kind of example would he set for Maggie if he grabbed Stephanie and bolted from the room with her at her very proper touch?
Stephanie was having no problem being steady, cool and in control.
Using great discipline, he controlled his breathing, steadily in and out. His professional reputation was at stake.
Stephanie gave him a worried look but said nothing.
Finally, she dropped her hands and turned to Maggie. “Your turn?”
Aside from a grimace, the girl didn’t protest this time.
“Now let me take your pulse, Dr. Drake.” She held out her hand for his wrist.
No sense in fighting the inevitable. When she asked, he could deny her nothing.
Her warm, open palm held him as captive as a set of handcuffs. The pad of her fingers rocked back and forth until she found the throbbing in his wrist.
Would she notice if his heart skipped a beat or two?
“Thank you, Dr. Drake.” She turned back to Maggie, who appeared to be avidly looking to the left of their little charade. “Your turn, Maggie. May I hold your arm?”
To Jason’s amazement, Maggie held out her wrist. This was the first response she’d made to anyone’s request since she’d been hospitalized. From the sudden alertness in her mother’s eyes, this was unexpected for Anne, too.
Stephanie found the girl’s pulse and counted.
“Thank you, Maggie.” The moment Stephanie released her arm Maggie put it under the covers.
“Perfect,” she told the girl. “Now, let’s check ears and eyes. Dr. Drake, if you’ll sit, please?” She pointed to the visitor’s chair beside the bed.
Maggie scrambled to turn herself onto her side and peer through the railings to watch. Observing and analyzing Maggie’s movements helped distract Jason from the intimacy of his own examination. If Maggie could so easily pull her legs under her and twist sideways, why couldn’t she walk? She had once been able to run around the house without hesitation. How did her late ambulatory development factor in?
“Ears first.” Stephanie leaned over him, her breasts inches from his mouth. He swallowed hard to keep from drooling.
Her featherlight touch tickled the rim of his ear.
As Stephanie leaned close to look, her sweet breath warmed his neck.
Every primal cell in his body screamed for him to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his lair. For Maggie’s sake he kept himself still and unresponsive, although his clenched palms had begun to sweat.
“That didn’t bother you a bit, did it, Dr. Drake?”
“No, not at all.” He forced the lie past his gritted teeth.
“Now, let’s take a look at your eyes.”
There was no way Jason could hide the dilation of his pupils—a physiological reaction to his desire. To distract himself, he silently listed the noble gasses from the periodic table while congratulating himself on his own noble restraint.
Stephanie’s intense scrutiny made him want to wince away, but her hand on his shoulder held him still. Once she was satisfied with what she saw she released him. He sank back into the chair, so tense every nerve-ending twanged like over-tightened guitar strings.
Stephanie showed no signs of being affected at all. As if they were nothing but colleagues and had never been lovers. As if he’d never made her scream his name into the night, or washed breakfast dishes beside her in the morning.
What had he done besides miss a dinner date or two? Duty had called. She’d grown up in a doctors’ household. Surely she understood? It had to be something more.
“Your turn, Maggie.” Stephanie moved from chair to bedside.
Maggie began to protest by grunting, and waving the hand that didn’t hold her doll, but when Jason enfolded her fluttering hand in his she settled down and let Stephanie shine a light into her eyes as she stared at the wall past her mother.
“All done.” Stephanie stuck the small light into her lab coat pocket. “You’re a very brave girl, Maggie.”
At her name, Maggie slid her glance past Stephanie to rest slightly to the right. She held out her doll in an obvious invitation to be friends.
Careful to avoid the doll’s wet chewed hand, Stephanie took the ratty-haired toy and cradled it in her arms, giving the honor proper tribute. She gave the doll a pat and reverently tucked it into bed beside Maggie. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ll come back and visit soon.”
Stephanie would be a good mother. Jason’s thoughts startled him so much he stood abruptly. He’d never thought of motherhood and Stephanie Montclair in the same breath before.
She had a demanding job and a busy social schedule. How could she add motherhood to the mix, even if she wanted to? And then there was the little issue of who would father her child.
He had the strangest urge to volunteer.
First his disturbing emotional reaction to his patients and now this? No, he was not cut out to be a family man, much as he might daydream about it. He had enough past history to prove he did more harm than good in that role. He really needed to make arrangements for a few days off soon …
“Diagnostics meeting starts in five minutes.” He walked to the door to get Stephanie moving in that direction.
“If there’s anything I or my staff can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know,” Stephanie said to Maggie’s mother, sounding like the concierge of an expensive hotel. Was she really that worried about the fall-off of patients?
She probably was. Sheffield Memorial was her family’s legacy—something she took very seriously. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to make it thrive. Next thing he knew she would be sending in staff to put mints on the patients’ pillows.
Drake couldn’t fault her. If he’d had a legacy of any sort he might feel the same. But mongrels like him had no birthright to speak of. And the heritage he did have was better off left unspoken.
As soon as the door latched behind him, she stopped him with a hand to his arm, sending tingles to the soles of his feet. “Before we talk about the girl, I want you to get a physical. Your heart rate is too fast and your blood pressure is elevated.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a direct order. Got it?”
Protesting wouldn’t get him back on her good side. “Fine. I’ll get it checked out. I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I care. This hospital is in enough trouble with the media without one of our physicians dropping dead in the hallway because he neglected his own health.”
“Your concern is touching.” He put distance between them, but his arm still tingled where her hand had been.
Stephanie used all her will-power to keep from reaching out and pulling him back to her.
She craved the vibrations he sent through her when he touched her, the deep-seated sense of wellbeing and protection he gave her whenever he was near. But he had proved to her too many times that it was a false sense of security.
She couldn’t count on him to keep a dinner date, much less a vow of happily-ever-after.
Stephanie picked up her pace, putting even more distance between them. She didn’t need him, and neither did her baby.
A wave of exhaustion tinged with queasiness hit her, pressing on her shoulders and dragging at her heels. Normal, her obstetrician had promised her. It should pass soon.
Like a good Montclair, Stephanie soldiered on.
She would need to tell her parents soon.
They were so conservative. Telling them about her unplanned baby would disappoint them at first. Not only was she unwed, she was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She should know how to prevent pregnancy.
Where once she would have whole-heartedly agreed with them, she now had a more sympathetic view. Accidents happened—even to medical professionals.
And this was a happy accident. She already loved her unborn child beyond measure.
Her parents and grandparents would support her in the end, even if they weren’t totally happy to do so.
The Montclairs and the Sheffields stuck together, putting on a united front. They always had. In fact, Stephanie felt confident that once they were over the shock of their dateless daughter being pregnant they would be thrilled at having a successor to carry on the family name—something her father perpetually worried about.
Her child would grow up knowing only respect and her unconditional love, no matter what anyone thought about his or her parentage. She would make sure of it.
Her child would be the center of her universe.
Yes, Stephanie was positive her child would lack for nothing except a father.
“Stephanie, are you all right?” Jason asked.
They had paused outside the conference room. When had they stopped walking? Preoccupation and distraction seemed to be another symptom of her pregnancy lately.
“I’m fine. Just fine,” she snapped at him.
“You’re pale.” He ran a finger down her cheek—way too intimate for their present circumstances. “And clammy. And you have a faraway look in your eyes.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“The lawsuit?”
“That’s an issue I can’t discuss with you right now.” Not until the board signed off on her decision. That would probably happen sometime this evening, during the Montclair-Sheffield fundraiser, with board members discreetly disappearing into a private alcove to affix their signatures to the document that would blemish Jason’s reputation.
But it was too late for second thoughts.
Soldier on, Stephanie.
Through the partially open blinds of the conference room she could see her diagnostic staff assembled. “They’re waiting on us.”
“Stephanie, if there’s anything I can do to help—”
His offer surprised her.
Too soon she would have the unfortunate duty of telling him how the hospital he had devoted his whole life to was selling him out.
Yes, he would be well compensated for his involuntary sacrifice, but the board didn’t understand. Jason didn’t do what he did for money. He did it out of passion.
Stephanie knew she was the only one who understood the passion Jason hid beneath his cynically stoic exterior.
All he had to do was brush against her to remind her.
“After you.” He held the door open for her, briefly trailing his fingertips on the small of her back to guide her through.
His gray eyes smoldered before he banked the fire, but she’d seen the desire that flickered there. And had felt a responding spark in herself—a spark that could all too easily be fanned into a full-blown inferno.
All vestiges of nausea and lethargy fled at his touch.
They were so good together. Maybe if …
No, it was too late for second thoughts.
CHAPTER TWO
JASON saw that Dr. Riser and Dr. Phillips had already seated themselves at the table with a cup of coffee each.
He turned to the kitchenette that housed a small microwave and refrigerator along with a pair of electric burners. One burner held a pot of brewed coffee, but Stephanie preferred tea.
Filling the extra pot with water, he put it on the burner to boil.
“It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Stephanie began to peel off her lab coat.
Her skin was now flushed with healthy color instead of holding that pallor her worry had caused her. She really needed to get away—with him. A little time in his mountain cabin on his faux fur rug would fix her right up.
