His Baby Bombshell. Jessica Matthews

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СКАЧАТЬ fact, now that she thought about the situation, he wouldn’t have to complain too much for her to do so.

      “Dr Mosby may decide to keep you overnight,” she mentioned offhandedly, testing his reaction.

      He frowned. “Why? You don’t admit every person in the hospital for a bump on the head.”

      “No, but you aren’t just any person.” She ticked off the reasons on the fingers of her left hand. “One, you’re a doctor, which means you get special consideration. Two, Mosby is determined to treat you like spun gold, not only because he wants to impress you but because he wants you to speak fondly of us when you go back home.”

      “Ah. For recruitment purposes, I presume.”

      “Probably,” she agreed. “This position has been vacant for some time so I’m sure he intends to take advantage of whatever opportunities he can to show us in a good light. The question for the moment though is, who would monitor you through the night if Dr Mosby discharges you? Unless, of course, you aren’t staying alone.” She raised an eyebrow.

      “Fishing, Sabrina?”

      “Not at all,” she said, airily indifferent, although deep down she wanted to know if he had allowed a significant other into his life. Not that she cared one way or another, of course. She was only being curious.

      “Your living arrangements don’t concern me. However, they could factor into Mosby’s decision, so I thought you might appreciate the advance warning. If not, pretend I didn’t say a word.”

      He fell silent as if mulling over his situation. “I don’t suppose the crickets count as companions?”

      “Not unless they can take your vital signs and call 911 if necessary.”

      “I was afraid you’d say that.” He sighed. “Then, yes, I’m all by myself.”

      “I’m surprised.” She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until he answered.

      “Why would you think that?”

      She evaded the question. “I assumed you would have brought Clay with you.” After Clay’s discharge from hospital, Adrian had moved him into his own home to oversee and assist in his rehabilitation.

      “He’s living by himself these days.”

      Relief at the news made her forget to treat Adrian with cool disdain. “Oh, Adrian, I’m so glad. Then he’s all right? I’ve wondered and worried about him…” Realizing she’d said too much, she cut herself off. When Adrian had severed their ties, he’d also severed her relationship to his family members and she missed them almost as much as she’d missed Adrian. Oh, she could have kept in touch with Clay, but it would have been an awkward situation for both of them, so she hadn’t.

      “He hasn’t completely recovered,” he admitted. “It took awhile before he could start therapy and then his progress came slowly, but he’s graduated from a walker to a cane, which was quite a cause for celebration.”

      “I can imagine.” And she could. She pictured Adrian, Clay, Marcy and Susan barbecuing in Adrian’s back yard. Adrian liked to wear his “Kiss the Cook” apron and chef’s hat and monitor the status of his burgers with the same intensity as an anesthesiologist monitoring a surgical patient. Clay had often stolen the green olives out from under Marcy’s watchful eye while Susan had scolded him for spoiling his dinner. Adrian’s portable CD player had usually provided the ambience while Sabrina had acted as the official and unbiased taste tester of Marcy’s culinary concoctions.

      She wondered who did the honors now, then jerked herself off that fruitless and painful path. The McReynolds family wasn’t part of her life and never would be. For her own peace of mind, she had to remember that.

      “In any case…” She steered the conversation back to the original topic. “If you’re living alone, I’d plan to spend the night in a luxurious private suite on our spacious second floor.”

      “If it’s a matter of having a babysitter, you could do the honors,” he said in a clearly hopeful tone.

      Coming from anyone else, she would have laughed and countered with a saucy answer, but the offer came from Adrian, which made his suggestion no laughing matter. If he didn’t look so pathetic, she’d tell him exactly what she thought of his idea, using words capable of blistering the walls’ semi-gloss enamel paint.

      But he did look rather forlorn and pitiful and she let her opportunity slide. There would be plenty of others when she could fully vent her anger and not feel lower than pond scum for verbally attacking a concussed man. A confrontation was inevitable.

      “Sorry, but I don’t do private nursing. And even if I did, I have laundry waiting at home.”

      “You wouldn’t have to stay,” he coaxed. “Just long enough so Mosby thinks I’m not alone.”

      She eyed him carefully and forced herself not to succumb to his pleading, puppy-dog-in-the-window expression. “I won’t put myself in the position where you can tell the chief of staff I ran out on you halfway through the night.”

      “I wouldn’t.”

      He must think her to be a complete fool if she’d trust him the minute she’d laid eyes on him, and she was not a fool. “Sorry, but that’s the sort of favor I’d only do for a friend.”

      “We were friends once.”

      “We were,” she conceded, “but not any more. Considering our past, aren’t you afraid I’ll slip arsenic into your coffee or smother you in your sleep?”

      “I’ll take the chance, Bree,” he said dryly, “because we both know I won’t get any rest here. And…” He paused. “I’d hoped we could…talk.”

      So Adrian wanted to talk, did he? She’d suffered through too many hurts to think that a simple heart-to-heart at this late date would clear the air and heal old wounds. He’d betrayed her trust and she couldn’t imagine any way he would possibly earn it again.

      “You aren’t in any condition to carry on a conversation,” she said calmly, grateful for her ready-made excuse because the thought of discussing anything more serious than a weather forecast released a flock of butterflies in her stomach. The day for an in-depth conversation would come, but only when she was ready.

      “Maybe not at this moment, but—”

      “I’m not interested in rehashing ancient history,” she warned. “Not now. Not ever.”

      “A year isn’t ancient history.”

      “It is to me.” That year was a lifetime ago—Jeremy’s lifetime. Events before then weren’t worth the time or energy to dwell upon.

      “Sabrina—” he began.

      The curtain swooshed and a young man carrying a phlebotomy tray walked in. “Oh, my,” she said in a too-bright tone that hinted at her eagerness for the interruption, “Lab’s here. It’s Dracula time.”

      Seizing the opportunity to gain much-needed breathing space, she walked out of the trauma room while the technician drew Adrian’s СКАЧАТЬ