Father By Choice. M.J. Rodgers

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      “The leaf blower.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “The exhaust from a leaf blower our maintenance man was using. The smell was bad enough out in the open air, but inside the greenhouse, the concentration was lethal. I’ve always been sensitive to fumes. When I was a kid, the buildup of carbon monoxide at the back of a school bus could put me out. And often did.”

      “What’s the temperature in the greenhouse?”

      “Ten to fifteen degrees warmer than the ambient outside air.”

      He scribbled something on the chart. “The prolonged unconsciousness could have resulted from the combination of postural hypotension, exhaust fumes and exposure to sudden heat. Your vital signs are normal. I don’t see that you’ve suffered any ill effects. But there’s no point in taking chances. I’m going to order some blood work to make sure we’re not missing anything.”

      If he ordered tests on her, there was a good chance that he’d discover her other records at this hospital. Emily couldn’t risk that.

      “I appreciate the thoroughness, but that won’t be necessary. I feel fine.”

      “Ms. Barrett, it’s important you have the tests. For you and your fetus.”

      “I believe you. And your concern is appreciated. Really. But I have an appointment with my doctor on Monday, and I’d feel more comfortable talking things over with her, woman to woman. I’m sure you understand.”

      It was the perfect out. No male doctor could argue with a woman about her preference in such a matter.

      But Brad Winslow sure looked as if he wanted to. “Your doctor will want to talk to me. Give me her name so that I can note the chart. When she calls, the nurse will know to put her through.”

      No way Emily was going to let her doctor call Brad Winslow—or let him know her doctor’s real name. He was waiting for an answer. She quickly searched her mind for a substitute and came up with her favorite grade-school teacher. “Landerman.”

      He wrote down the name. “Is Dr. Landerman new to Courage Bay?”

      “Her practice is in L.A.,” Emily lied, then realized the other questions that might raise. “She’s an old friend of the family, which is why I don’t mind driving so far to see her.”

      “What’s her number?”

      “I don’t have it memorized. Thanks for everything.”

      Emily could see her shoes on the bottom shelf of the cart next to the bed. She scooted to the side of the examining table, intent on slipping off it and getting to them.

      But before she could swing her legs over, Brad stepped forward, rested the hospital chart on the edge of the bed’s metal rim and effectively blocked her path.

      “Your assistant wasn’t able to provide your home address, number and next of kin. Let’s take a moment to fill in the blanks, shall we?”

      “No reason to take up your time with that,” Emily said quickly. “I’ll give my insurance information to the clerk in admissions. She’ll be able to get whatever she requires from it.”

      “You sound like you know your way around this hospital.”

      “I’ve visited friends here from time to time.”

      She waited for him to move out of her way. He didn’t.

      “All right, Ms. Barrett, how do you know about me?”

      His authoritative tone had developed an even sharper edge and his eyes were chips of granite.

      For a second Emily stared at him. Then it hit her. Dear heavens. Those things she’d been thinking about him before she came to. She must have said them aloud. Oh, hell.

      Don’t panic, Emily. You can handle this. Remember, the best defense when cornered is to act innocent.

      She squinted at him like someone who’d forgotten her glasses. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to recognize you, Doctor. Do we know each other?”

      His skeptical expression told her he wasn’t buying the act. The sound of a siren approached. Footsteps rushed past in the hallway. The injured men from the construction site were here. This was her chance to escape.

      Second-best defense—run to the nearest exit.

      “You have people who need you,” she said. “I’d better be on my way. Thank you for taking care of me, Dr…uh… I’m sorry. What was your name again?”

      “Where did you find out those very personal things about me?” he demanded, not budging an inch.

      She did her best to look confused. “What things?”

      “My ethnic background, coloring, height, weight, age, favorite color, favorite—”

      “I’m sorry,” she interrupted with a regretful shake of her head, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “You expect me to believe you don’t remember what you said?”

      “I have no memory of meeting you before today, Doctor. When am I supposed to have said these things?”

      “You said them while lying on this bed not five minutes ago. And you know it. You’re not leaving here until you tell me exactly where you learned those personal details of my life.”

      She could see he damn well meant it, too. There was only one choice left.

      Third-best defense—scare the hell out of the opponent so he runs to the nearest exit.

      Emily plastered a look of excitement on her face. “I told you about personal details in your life? And they were accurate? Well, well. That hasn’t happened in quite a while.”

      “What hasn’t?”

      “When I’ve been in semiconscious states before, I’ve shown…well, that is, people have told me I display very strong psychic powers.”

      For a fraction of a second, something that looked like discomfort flashed across his stoic features.

      Emily settled farther back on the bed, no longer making any attempt to leave. As a matter of fact, she was doing her best to convey the impression that she planned to stay awhile.

      “Once I collapsed in a store and before I came to, I’d told the owner all about the affair he was having with his bookkeeper,” she lied blithely. “Of course, he was a little upset at me since his wife was standing right next to him at the time. But that’s one of the drawbacks of being a semiconscious psychic.”

      Brad’s eyes darted toward the phone on the wall. Debating whether he should call for restraints or a psychiatric consultation?

      “This is really exciting, Doctor. You don’t know how glad I am you told me. So many people are afraid of acknowledging any sense beyond the mundane five—especially people СКАЧАТЬ