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“Other than all those other missed dinner dates and all those refusals to accompany me to social functions? No, you did nothing wrong.” Nothing but be himself. But then he’d done nothing right—outside the bedroom.
The night he’d missed their dinner—the dinner during which she had planned to tell him about their baby—had been the breaking point. As she had scraped the congealed gourmet meal into the trash, blown out the candles and exchanged her negligee for her favorite oversized T-shirt and gym shorts, she’d known she couldn’t fool herself any longer.
Swathed in her flannel robe, she’d settled in on the couch, hoping. Yet she’d known he wouldn’t show. This was how her baby’s life would be if she married him. Always waiting for Daddy to come home. She’d lived it with both her parents, feeling guilty all the while for resenting the time they spent with sick children while she’d been well and healthy. And alone.
I’ll not do that to you, little one. I’ll be here for you, any time you need me.
She wasn’t quite sure how she would accomplish that yet, but there had to be a way to balance home life with hospital life.
She took a long look at Jason. He just wasn’t the home-and-hearth type. Anything that couldn’t be analyzed under a microscope had no place in his life.
Jason raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I really see no reason for you to kick me out of your personal life just because I turned down a gala or two, choosing the art of medicine over the act of socializing. Faux fawning is not what I majored in during med school.”
He hid his hurt behind his bristling posture.
She had thought they were beyond that. That he had stopped using the mask with her. Maybe they had been before she’d called it quits between them.
“This isn’t about the parties.”
He’d said more than once that he didn’t do emotions, but he’d lied. He’d shown her plenty of passion. And for a while there she had thought he’d also shown her caring and concern and an occasional glimpse of vulnerability. Maybe it had only been in her imagination to start with.
Now it didn’t matter. He’d known she’d needed to talk. She’d told him it was important. Standing her up for dinner had been a non-verbal response louder than a shout. She just wasn’t enough for him to step outside his comfort zone.
If he wouldn’t risk his emotions for her then he wouldn’t for his child, either.
“But you just said—” He dropped the attitude. “I don’t understand, Stephanie.”
This was a huge admission when he prided himself on his intellect. He really didn’t understand.
“Jason, I want more.” She reached out to him, then pulled her hand back before she could make contact. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
Jason rolled his eyes at the platitude.
It was her. They’d both agreed from the beginning that neither wanted a serious relationship. Jason would readily admit that his work was his mistress.
She had breached her part of the bargain and taken this much further than an informal friendship with bedroom benefits.
Then, that night at his cabin in the mountains, when they’d lain on his porch looking into the black sky at the pinpoints of stars above, he’d reached for her hand and she’d known. His touch had made more than her skin tingle. It had made her soul vibrate in accord with his. Life and love had flowed through their clasped hands, intertwining their hearts.
That was when she’d known, Jason filled a place inside her that no one else ever could—a place in her heart made just for him from the moment she was born.
Being honest with herself, she’d known their relationship had been destined to become more from the start—at least for her. She didn’t do casual sex—and, as guarded as Jason had always been about his dating life, she was sure he didn’t either.
But then neither did he do commitment. And raising a child took more commitment than a dozen medical degrees.
Destiny didn’t guarantee happily-ever-after, and now she had a child to think about.
That was why she’d had to break it off with him, even though it had broken her heart. She might be able to suffer through a casual come-and-go relationship, but she would never subject her child to that kind of pain and uncertainty.
She needed to create a stable environment that would surround and protect her child with love. She was prepared to do that. She had the financial means, the emotional capacity, and by the time her child was born she would have her work-life in perspective, too.
Now was the time. Before she burst into hormonal tears she needed to tell him about the baby and then walk away.
Now. She should tell him now, while she had his undivided attention. “Jason, I need—”
His phone vibrated. He held up a finger to wait.
“Drake here,” he answered. Not a word wasted on social niceties. “No, Doctor, I can take your call. We’ve played tag trying to communicate long enough.”
His eyes clouded as he looked through her. Another medical matter taking precedence over her. Was it too much to ask to be first? To know that their child would be first in Jason’s life if only for a second?
Yes. It was too much to ask. While Jason was devoted to the practice of medicine, extending such devotion to a personal relationship was beyond his capabilities. She had to resign herself to that.
She reached for her lab coat, flailing to find the armhole. He’d been so eager to help her off with it, but he didn’t even notice her struggle now.
Nor did he notice when she slipped out, silently shutting the consultation room door behind her.
CHAPTER THREE
JASON kept his hand tightly wrapped around his phone to keep from reaching out and holding Stephanie back—pulling her close to him and never letting her go.
He used all his discipline to concentrate on the question the doctor at the Mayo Clinic was asking. “Dr. Drake, do we have a bad connection?”
“No, I hear you. I’m thinking.” He reviewed the question he’d been asked. “Have you considered a gluten sensitivity? They disguise themselves in a multitude of ways, and many of your patient’s symptoms match, even though the test results might not indicate a full-blown allergic reaction. I suggest a gluten-free diet for the next fourteen days. Be sure to record behavioral changes as well as antibody levels.”
“I need—” she’d said. Jason wanted to fulfill that need, whatever it was. But he was pretty sure her need was emotional, and he knew his limitations. He was good at understanding bodies, not emotions. If anyone knew that about him she did. She knew him better than he knew himself most of the time.
How could he give her something he didn’t understand?
“I’ll give it a try.”
Jason was vaguely aware the phone line had gone dead at the other end.
It had begun so simply. A late night of research after the rest of his team had left for their family obligations.
Stephanie had gotten comfortable, kicked off her shoes and replaced her contacts with glasses.
Then she’d noticed his stiff neck, from hours spent hunched over the computer terminal, and offered to massage the ache away.
But the massage had backfired. Instead of relieving his tension, her hands had set him on fire.
Unable to concentrate on the case any longer, they’d called it a night.
But fate had intervened. In the parking lot she’d pulled up next to his motorcycle as he’d been about to strap on his helmet. The light mist of early evening had been turning into a heavy drizzle.
“Want a ride?” she asked.
“Sure.” He thought—hoped—she offered more than transportation, but he wasn’t sure until he climbed into her red low-slung sports car and she gave him the choice. “My place or yours?”
The whole moment felt like a clichéd scene from a nineteen-fifties film noir, but it was effective nonetheless.
Stephanie cooked a meal—of sorts. She shoved a frozen foil tray of lasagna into the oven, set the temperature, and handed him a bottle of Chianti and a corkscrew.
After popping the cork, he stripped off Stephanie’s high heels, one by one, letting his fingers do a slow examination from her toes to the arches of her feet to her very sensitive ankles. As he ran his thumb along the arch of her foot, she moaned and arched her back, emphasizing the peaks of her magnificent breasts.
He explored the erogenous and sensitive anklebone, circling his finger until her breath came in short wisps. Her passion brought out the hero in him. He wanted to find a dragon to slay to keep her eyes shining in admiration.
Her hands fluttered to his chest and along his shoulders. A low, deep growl started deep inside him as his hunger for her built.
Her usually graceful fingers fumbled at the edge of her sweater as she tried to pull if off. He helped, covering her hands with his own. His own breath caught as he revealed her silky skin hidden underneath.
As if she were shy, she held back as long as she could, but by the time he reached the band of her thong she was ripping off his shirt and tugging at his belt.
They’d ended up overcooking the lasagna and washing it down with too much wine. And he’d never slept so peacefully as that night in her arms.
He and Stephanie had been of one mind: they were the perfect high-stress couple. They enjoyed each other’s company, enjoyed the mutual benefits of an exciting sex-life and understood neither of them had room for more than a series of one-night stands.
That had been at first, but he’d soon figured out that Stephanie wasn’t the kind of woman that a man could treat casually. He’d tried his best to treat her as well as she deserved. She was a prize, a hidden treasure.
And he’d prized knowing that she wore a kinky thong under her skirts and tailored trousers. He’d prized even more the fact that he was the only one who knew.
Or at least he had been the only one.
Obviously his best hadn’t been good enough.
Who was that soft glow for? Was she dating someone already?
No. As fast as word traveled throughout the hospital, he would have heard. Wouldn’t he?
And why was he still dwelling on it? He’d broken off relationships before, quickly and cleanly with no regrets.
That their break-up bothered him at all was a clue that their relationship had mutated into more than he had intended. He probably would have insisted they take a step or two backward himself if she hadn’t called it off between them. Probably.
But a total severance of the relationship was a bit extreme.
Stephanie didn’t need to amputate the head to cure the headache, did she? What was wrong with the “two aspirin and call me in the morning” approach?
He knew she’d been under severe pressure ever since their department had been hit with the big lawsuit. He could understand how she could be overwhelmed. But lawsuits settled down eventually. She would come back to him in due course if only he could find the patience to wait. Right?
And she was definitely worth the wait.
Until then he would bury himself in his work.
He smiled in anticipation as he cranked up his music. Pulling up a half-dozen resources on his computer screen, he reviewed Maggie’s list of symptoms.
Exhilaration coursed through his veins as he lost himself in the hunt for the elusive answer. Yes, unraveling the mysteries of medicine was what he’d been born for.
Everything else was secondary.
Why, then, did memories of Stephanie naked in his bed keep distracting him from his purpose in life?
Once safely behind her office door, Stephanie let her shoulders sag. That was twice she’d tried to tell him about the baby and twice he’d let duty distract him.
Maybe she should send him a text message.
Or maybe she should say nothing at all. He’d notice soon enough anyway.
He was one of the topmost recognized diagnosticians in the country. She was surprised he hadn’t already guessed. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
If he asked, she’d tell the truth. Otherwise it wasn’t as if she wanted or needed anything from him. She had the monetary capacity to take care of her child herself. And she was determined to have the nurturing capacity, too. Unlike Jason Drake.
After her rallying self-talk she expected to feel strong. Instead she just felt lonely.
She pushed the button on the intercom. “Marcy, has my dress been delivered yet?”
“Yes, I’ll bring it in.”
“Thanks.”
Marcy gave a perfunctory knock on the door before coming in, carrying the dress covered by a garment bag. “The seamstress sends apologies but she wasn’t able to let the dress out at all.”
“I was worried about that. I’ll just have to wear it as is.” She should have checked her wardrobe sooner, but hadn’t realized how much her body was changing until last night, when trying on her formal wear.
“Could I see it?” asked Marcy.
“Sure.” Stephanie unzipped the bag.
Cocktail-length, red, sequined, halter-topped and backless. She’d originally bought the dress for an Independence Day gala. Now it was the only one that still fit her swollen breasts. It stretched much tighter across her torso and her derriere, too, giving her a vintage Marilyn Monroe look that she’d never had before.
“Wow! That will make a statement.”
Since the dress was so much glitzier than the pale, elegant chiffons she usually wore, it was sure to raise eyebrows among those who knew her. Being dateless, she would have to stand up to the scrutiny all by herself—a test of her self-confidence and poise.
She might as well get used to her single state. She would not be dating anyone for a long while.
She did not need another complication in her life, and she’d never been the kind of woman who had to appear on a man’s arm to make herself feel confident.
Although she had to admit she’d had her fantasies about Jason Drake.
“I bought it two months ago for the big Independence Day celebration and ended up not going. But tonight, with our supermodel and her friends in attendance, I thought it might be appropriate.”
When Stephanie had originally tried it on she’d indulged in a bit of daydreaming, imagining the look of desire in Jason’s eyes as she took off her evening stole.
She had intended to invite him to a white tie evening of fine dining, a full-scale orchestra and fireworks viewed from the rooftop of a prominent hotel to celebrate Independence Day.
Of course imagining Jason even accompanying her had been a fantasy. Every formal function she’d asked him to attend he’d cancelled on her, or flat-out turned her down.
“Dr. Drake is going to drag you back to his cave when he sees you in this,” Marcy said.
