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“Let me help you.” Jason stepped toward her to help—out of politeness, but mostly out of the desire to touch her again. He yearned for that zing they created between them whenever they made contact, and couldn’t keep himself from trying to recreate it whenever he had the chance.
But she shrugged away his outstretched hand as she hung the lab coat on the rack near the door.
Yes, her curves were definitely curvier.
As she slid into her office chair she picked up her glasses, anchored them low on the bridge of her nose and looked over the top at him. Did she know how that prim and proper look set him on fire? Was she teasing him on purpose?
He hoped so, but doubted it.
Since that fateful night two weeks ago, when he’d got caught up in his work and had to cancel their dinner date, she had rebuffed every move he’d made. He set the steeping cup of tea in front of her.
“No, thank you. I’m cutting down on caffeine.” She shoved it back to him. “Now, tell me what’s going on with little Maggie.”
Jason took a sip of the tea himself, although it was too sweet for his taste. Then he stood and pointed to the whiteboard that listed symptoms and possible diagnoses and drew a line through multiple sclerosis. “The child is average in both weight and height. Reduced muscle tone, delayed development, lack of speech, yet good appetite and no fever. These symptoms aren’t new. But after walking for a year and a half she now seems to have forgotten how. Dr. Montclair, what are your observations?”
Stephanie traced an invisible circle on the table. Her hands always moved as she processed. “Her vitals are good, all within the normal range. Her palm is warm. Not clammy or cold. Her grip is weak. Her fingernails are thin and flaky. And she has the longest eyelashes for a child of her age I’ve ever seen.”
Fingernails and eyelashes. Only Stephanie had noticed the obvious. Added to the clues he’d already put together, a suspicion began to form in his mind.
Damn it, she looked different. Was she dating someone else?
Focus, Drake, he told himself. Mentally, he considered and discarded possible diagnoses.
“Anyone else have something to add?” he challenged his diagnostics team.
“She’s obsessed with that doll,” Dr. Phillips said. Dr. Phillips was the youngest and the chattiest, but her expertise in toxicology made her invaluable.
Like a parrot on her shoulder, Dr. Riser nodded in concurrence.
Dr. Riser had been doing a lot of that lately, instead of presenting his own ideas. Jason’s team had been picked with great care, but even the best partnerships became stale after a while. And Jason hadn’t picked Riser. The board had.
Dr. Riser was a neurosurgeon the hospital had brought in for an undisclosed salary. He regularly moonlighted for the neurology department.
The respiratory/pulmonary member of the group was missing today. Personal business, he’d said. Job interview, the rumor mill said. He was looking for a position with a higher success rate than their department.
Diagnostics was a last-ditch effort after all the other medical personnel had given up. Often the diagnosis came too late, or the patient couldn’t be treated. Pediatric diagnostics was hard on the ego as well as the soul if a doctor valued his success rate over saving individual lives.
Stephanie answered Dr. Phillips. “Wouldn’t you be fixated on your favorite toy, too? Surrounded by strangers, you’d be clinging to the few constants in your life.”
He could always count on her to bring in the human aspect of a case. His team was becoming too narrowly focused, echoing his weaknesses as well as his strengths. Stephanie was exactly who he needed on this case. And in his bed.
No. He did not need Stephanie Montclair in his bed. He wanted her in his bed, but he didn’t need her there.
What he needed was focus. Stephanie made that damned hard. He was fascinated by this strong, sexy, intelligent woman.
He looked around at the assembled doctors, his gaze deliberately sliding past Stephanie.
Turning Dr. Phillips’ observation on its side, he challenged, “Did anyone notice Maggie also chewed the sleeve of her nightgown and the edge of her blanket? Is it that she wants the doll, or does she just want to put something in her mouth?”
Drs Phillips and Riser easily nodded their agreement. Jason scowled, exasperated. He didn’t need any yes-men. Or yes-women. He needed independent thinkers. Loyal accord didn’t diagnose patients.
He added ‘obsessive chewing’ to the list, then pointed to the word ‘autistic.’ “Anyone get a better read on this?”
Dr. Phillips shrugged. “The girl is non-verbal, and she won’t look at anyone straight on. That indicates autism.”
“She screamed like a banshee the first time I went near her,” Jason added. “Did that happen to anyone else?”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like you, Drake. You know that old wives’ tale—children and dogs instinctively know the good guys from the bad guys,” Dr. Riser quipped.
Both Phillips and Riser laughed on cue.
Definitely too much group-think. He would need to change a team member soon.
“Actually, she’s opposed to all people touching her—except for Dr. Drake, right?” Stephanie said. Was she taking up the case for him, or just pointing out the fallacy in the other doctors’ observations?
In answer to her probing look, both Drs. Riser and Phillips nodded affirmation.
Stephanie drummed her fingers on the table. “Being non-verbal is also an indicator of a hearing deficiency. That could explain why she doesn’t look at the person speaking. She may be partially deaf and can’t figure out where the sound is coming from.”
Dr. Phillips smirked. “Dr. Drake checked her hearing and her reflex reaction at the same time.”
Stephanie would end up with a wrinkled forehead if she kept frowning like that. “What did you do?”
Dr. Riser answered for him. “Drake sneaked up behind the girl and dropped a food tray. The child jumped and turned around to look in the direction of the noise.”
Riser leaned back in his chair. “I thought the mother was going to take a swing at him. You may be a lot of things, Drake, but daddy material isn’t one of them. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had lodged a complaint. That’s all we need with the lawsuit ongoing right now.”
Jason saw a look of pain cross Stephanie’s face. Was the department’s legal problems causing her that much heartache?
Dr. Phillips nodded. “The lawyers need to settle it soon. The hospital’s credibility is suffering.”
Jason couldn’t help but agree. His own caseload was the lightest he’d seen since he’d been at Sheffield Memorial. Normally he had to turn down more cases than he accepted.
“Not the whole hospital. Just our department,” Riser clarified. “I hear you’re helping out in the E.R. now, Drake. I could put in a good word for you with one of the specialties, if you want.”
Jason brushed off Riser’s offer, along with his condescending tone. “No need. I’ve already turned them all down.”
Being certified in pediatrics, internal medicine and surgery, Jason had been asked to assist on every floor of the hospital—by the same staff who registered complaints when he overstepped their bureaucracy to save their patients.
Instead, since his residency in an inner-city free clinic had more than prepared him for the E.R., he’d agreed to help out his friend and department head Dr. Mike Tyler. While the pace was frantic at times, the cases had been fairly routine so far, and once his shift was over he was done. No getting lost in late nights, researching until he was too exhausted to think.
The lack of complex problems to solve made getting over the infant’s loss more difficult. His modus operandi was to throw himself into his work. Or, for a while there, into Stephanie’s arms.
Now that option was gone, too. Hopefully, like the shortfall of patients, it would be a temporary problem.
It wasn’t just the sex.
They fit together mentally as well as physically. They laughed at the same obscure jokes, watched the same TV shows, liked the same food, and best of all they communicated on the same wavelength. Stephanie got him. She really got him. And he got her, too.
He’d never experienced that kind of compatibility before. He’d bet a back-rub, followed by a front-rub would fix them both right up without either of them having to say a word between them. If she’d just give their relationship a chance.
Relationship? That was a pretty strong word.
“Let’s get back to Maggie.”
Relationship. Put intimate in front of that and Jason could live with it. In fact he could live with it a lot better than he could live without it.
“Anyone have anything further to add?”
Stephanie shrugged her shoulders, as if shrugging off her worries.
“Macular degeneration,” she said. “Have you tested Maggie’s sight? Having only peripheral vision would explain the child’s lack of eye contact.”
“Possible.” Jason agreed.
Stephanie was so brilliant. He loved being around her. Love? Another strong word. This time purely used as a figure of speech. Love wasn’t in his scope of training.
“I’ll order the test. Anything else?”
Dr. Phillips’ phone vibrated.
He scowled, letting her know how he felt about the interruption.
She checked the display, then rose. “I can’t stay.”
Dr. Riser’s phone buzzed, too. He grimaced an apology as he glanced at his watch. “An appointment.”
At noon? Both of them?
Jason would bet his lunch they’d preplanned this mutiny so they wouldn’t have to skip another noon break.
Yes, he worked his team hard. Anyone who partnered with him needed to show unflagging dedication, and a missed meal on occasion was part of the package.
Riser and Phillips headed for the door.
Stephanie stood, too. But she didn’t make a move to leave. “Dr. Drake, could I speak privately with you for a moment?”
Dr. Drake? She only addressed him so formally in front of patients, or on occasion in bed.
“Of course.” He closed the door to the conference room.
So she was finally ready to forgive him for missing dinner the weekend before last. It was about time. She’d ignored him for two whole weeks. Though, to be fair, she’d been away for one of them for a directors’ conference.
“We both know how quickly rumors spread in this hospital. I need this to be kept confidential between you and me.”
Jason’s expectations crashed. Stephanie had been worried that their relationship might cause problems with their work. If she suggested they carry on covertly he would refuse. He wouldn’t be anyone’s dirty little secret.
“Stephanie, we’re two consenting adults. What goes on between the two of us—”
“This is strictly business, Dr. Drake.” A fleeting expression of something—sorrow?—crossed her eyes before she blinked it away. “We now have an open position in Diagnostics. I would like your opinion on several of our prospects before I contact them for discussion.”
She thought about the pulmonary doctor’s resignation, locked away in her desk drawer. Now, with Sheffield Memorial’s name on the verge of making the gossip rags and tabloids, was not a good time to be enticing new doctors into the hospital. Hopefully Jason’s involuntary sacrifice would put a stop to the talk.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
“Absolutely.” Jason’s lips twisted into a cynical grimace. “Let’s eliminate the candidates that might claim to have sham appointments during consultation meetings first. We’ve already got two doctors like that.”
“Drs. Phillips and Riser’s fake pages were rather immature, weren’t they? I’ve talked to both of them about being firm and telling you they aren’t at their best when they work through lunch, but they’re intimidated by you.”
“Intimidated? Why?”
“You’re so intense.”
“I’m focused.”
“Yes, you are.” Too focused—to the exclusion of everythingand everyone else. “No one can refute your dedication to medicine, Dr. Drake.”
He used his work as a shield, to keep everyone at a distance. While she had glimpsed the deep sensitivity Jason covered with sarcastic scowls and a cutting wit, she needed more than an occasional lapse in cynicism. She needed a man with a whole heart as well as an exceptional brain and outstanding body.
“You’re not intimidated by me.”
She laughed, but it came out bitter. “Remember who my father is. Dr. William Montclair is known the world over for his intensity of purpose. And my mother isn’t a slouch in that department, either.”
Jason waved away the mention of the formidable Dr. William Montclair and his spouse, Dr. Clarice Sheffield-Montclair.
“We’re good together, Stephanie.”
Yes, they were. She could smell his cologne, feel his body heat. His tone made her quiver to the core. Instinctively she felt herself leaning toward him.
She licked her lips.
His eyes followed her movement, like a cat ready to pounce. Intense didn’t begin to cover it.
She missed him so desperately, even if he was bad medicine. Being in a room alone with him was not a good thing for her. He was like an addiction. A quick high when they were wrapped arm-in-arm, followed by a debilitating low when he detached and became solitary again.
Which he’d done as soon as she’d tried to take their relationship to a deeper level.
“Jason, I’d prefer to keep things professional at the hospital.” Staying firm in her decision to stay apart took all her will-power—especially when he made no secret of the fact he wanted her.
That would end as soon as he found out about the baby.
“And impersonal outside the hospital. I got that from the phone message you left me. Did I say something to offend you?” He looked into her eyes as if he were trying to look into her head—or her heart. Without question, he had immense intensity.
“No, it wasn’t anything you said.”
While he’d certainly offended everyone else who’d ever walked through the hospital doors, he’d never offended her. He was egotistical, stubborn, overbearing and totally without tact, but she understood him. She could handle all his bad qualities, but she couldn’t handle his inability to open himself up to her, his inability to put her first at least on occasion.
“Is this about the missed dinner date? I explained that I needed to read through the lab results so I would know if I needed to order additional tests. Did I do something wrong?” he challenged, certain that another medically related reason would excuse him.
