Prescription for Romance / Love and the Single Dad. Susan Crosby

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      As if it was the first time, Paul doled his words out evenly. “Because you can’t just go off and do this kind of thing whenever you feel like it without at least consulting Lisa and me.”

      “So you’re going to let Ramona go because you’re mad at me?” he asked in abject disbelief. Derek shook his head in amazement. “Boy, leave it to you to be such a cliché.”

      Paul’s gaze became flinty. “Excuse me?”

      Derek frowned, exasperated. “That old chestnut about cutting off your nose to spite your face. That’s what you’re doing.”

      Any moment now, his brother was going to throw a tantrum, Paul thought. “You’re carrying on as if I just fired Woodward and Bernstein. That girl looks like she’s barely out of high school, let alone college. We implant embryos here, Derek, we don’t hire them.”

      Derek raised his voice to be heard over him. “Ramona Tate is twenty-five years old and she has impressive credentials—”

      “Which I’m sure you checked thoroughly.” Paul couldn’t help the note of sarcasm that came into his voice. He sincerely doubted that Derek had done anything but glance at her résumé.

      Derek squared his shoulders indignantly. “I was getting to that.”

      Sure you were, Paul thought. “Want another old chestnut?”

      Derek slanted a glance toward him, a suspicious look entering his eyes. “Like what?”

      “Like you’re putting the cart before the horse.” In this case, he’d hired the woman and planned to rubber-stamp her references—if she even had any.

      A deep chuckle escaped Derek’s lips. “Maybe you didn’t notice—and if you didn’t, you’d be the only one who wouldn’t—but this ‘horse’ has lines that could stop a charging rhino in his tracks.”

      Paul sighed, shaking his head. “So this is about your libido.”

      Derek rolled his eyes. “Unlike you, I have one, but in this case I was thinking of the institute.”

      Paul leaned a hip against his brother’s desk. “This I have to hear.”

      “There’s nothing wrong in having an extremely attractive—and able—woman to represent us. To be the ‘face’ of the Armstrong Fertility Institute.” Seeing that he was losing Paul, Derek hurried to add, “Which would you rather look at when it comes to getting your information, a gnarled, short, bald, fat man or an attractive young woman who makes your blood surge and makes you think of fertility just by looking at her?”

      “I’d just as soon get it in a report on my desk.”

      Derek threw up his hands. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

      Paul made no comment on that. He didn’t feel he needed to defend himself. This wasn’t about him, or Derek. This was about their father’s legacy. “How much is she costing the institute?”

      Derek rallied for a second defense. “Not as much as you would think—and Ramona is worth every penny of it.”

      Paul gave his twin a knowing look. “I’ll bet.”

      “Get your mind out of the gutter, Paul. I was referring to the press release I asked her to prepare.”

      Was that why the woman had asked him if she could draft a statement? “About?” he asked cautiously, wanting to see if the stories agreed.

      “Your dynamic duo, of course. Bonner and Demetrios bring their own sterling reputations to the table—just as you planned.” Derek wasn’t above trying to butter his brother up if he had to. “We get the public focusing on that, they’ll forget the rumors.”

      He blew out a breath, then looked at Paul hopefully. “So how about it, Paul? Can we take her off notice and just watch her work?” He put his arm around his brother’s shoulders in a gesture of solidarity. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

      There was no way that Derek could guarantee that. “And if I am?”

      Derek laughed. “Not even you can be that much of a stodgy old man.” Derek tapped his brother’s chest with the back of his hand. “Loosen up, Paul. You’ll not only live longer, but you’ll get to enjoy yourself, too.”

      “I do enjoy my life,” Paul insisted. And he did. He was dedicated to continuing his father’s work and to granting childless couples their fondest wish. That was more than enough for him.

      Derek merely shook his head. “Can’t see how, but okay. Do you know where Lisa is?”

      Paul laughed quietly. “Most likely sharpening her tongue so she can give you a good lashing.”

      “That’s why I want to head her off,” Derek confessed. “I was hoping to make a preemptive strike.”

      Paul thought of the expression on Lisa’s face when she burst into his office earlier. “Too late,” he speculated.

      Derek was not easily defeated. And he had the ability to talk someone to death—or at least until he got what he wanted.

      “Maybe not,” he countered as he went off in search of their sister. Ramona Tate was staying and that was that. He was not about to tolerate being overridden. The institute needed to continue to make money and that was not going to happen if people—wealthy people—stopped coming to avail themselves of what they had to offer here. Their focus needed to be redirected to a positive image, and Ramona Tate seemed just the person to do it.

      Both he and the institute would benefit from that.

       Chapter Three

      Ramona already knew that there was nothing in this small office that could help her with her investigation. If there was data that could openly incriminate one or more of the staff at the institute for engaging in the wrongful substitution of eggs or sperm, it wouldn’t be readily accessible. She was also fairly certain that nothing tangible would turn up to back the claim that too many embryos were being implanted purely to up the success ratio.

      There was no way she was going to learn how to access records that had been archived just by sitting here, staring at the walls. Ramona wasn’t even certain that there were archived records. Since they might prove to be incriminating, they might have been destroyed years ago. She knew for a fact that they weren’t on any database within the institute.

      All she could do was hope that Gerald Armstrong, who ran this facility until ill health had forced him into retirement, had been vain enough to hang on to everything—good or bad—that even remotely testified to his accomplishments and his genius. From what she’d read and heard, the man had a more than healthy ego.

      If the senior Armstrong had played God and implanted her mother’s eggs into someone, she thought, adrenaline rushing excitedly through her veins, that had to have been noted in the recipient’s file. She might be looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least she’d know that there was a needle.

      Dr. Gerald Armstrong had been in charge of operations СКАЧАТЬ