The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical. Connie Cox

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      “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.

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