Expecting the Doctor's Baby (5 page)

She did, then leaned against it with a sigh. The light caught the glitter of her gown in the middle of her living room floor, evidence of how bad this idea had been. While he was kissing her she'd had no room for regrets but now she was flooded with them. He made her forget everything except being in his arms.

She'd only wanted to be with him, so desperately she hadn't given a single thought to making it into the bedroom. Not only was he a client of her firm, the intensity of the physical attraction simmering between them made her too vulnerable. Thank goodness he wasn't
her
client because she didn't have to see him again. That would be a very bad idea.

 

Whistling tunelessly, Mitch leaned an elbow on the counter at the nurse's station in the E.R. It was a slow day and two women were working there. A redhead, Tina, was inputting computer information and the one kneeling on the floor, straightening out a cupboard, had brown hair. She was kind of new and he thought her name was Jill. He remembered giving her a hard time after car accident victims were brought in when the trauma bay wasn't stocked the way he liked it and his orders weren't followed fast enough. He had ridden her pretty hard more than once. She hadn't looked up, but knew he was there because her shoulders were so rigid one touch would snap her in two.

He stopped whistling. “Jill?”

Her hands stilled and her body went tight. It wouldn't surprise him to see her crawl into the cupboard, but she met his gaze. “Dr. Tenney—”

“Call me Mitch.” He smiled at her with all the charm he had.

Blue eyes widened as she rested her hands in her lap. “Okay. Is there something you needed, Doctor?”

“Yeah. I just want to say you did a good job this morning with that asthmatic kid.”

“I did?” she asked warily.

He nodded. “By the book. You got respiratory therapy down here stat and we had everything before anyone asked for it. I just wanted to say thanks.”

She looked as if he'd sucker punched her. “Y-you're welcome.”

“Keep up the good work.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He sighed and figured it would take a little more effort on his part before the deer-caught-in-headlights look disappeared. “Thanks for your efforts. You, too, Tina.”

“Okay,” they both said, exchanging a glance that clearly said “who is this alien creature?”

“Okay, then.” He turned away and started whistling again as he walked down the hall to the break room.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and picked up the newspaper on the table. Flipping through it, he stopped at the Nevada section, the page showing Las Vegas social events with photos of last night's hospital function. Arnold Ryan was in three out of four with his smooth, suck-you-in, phony smile. Mitch wished Sam would tell him to go to hell. If the guy ever treated her that way again while he was around, Mitch planned to do it for her.

Sam.

He smiled as visions of her filled his head. Shining, shimmering Sam with her delicate curves and sweet smile. Oh, what a night. And he'd actually intended to make an appearance, have a drink, be sure he was seen and get the heck outta there. Then the crowd parted and he spotted Sam.

The break room door opened and Rhonda Levin walked in. She was a brown-eyed bleached blonde in her late thirties, plump, pretty and plainspoken. She didn't take any of his crap and he respected her for that. The expression on her face made him wonder what he'd done.

“Dr. Mitch—”

He put the paper down and gave her his full attention. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

“How are you?” he asked.

“Just dandy. You?”

“Great. Never better.” He hadn't felt this good for a long time.

Rhonda put her hands on her ample hips. “What's going on, Mitch?”

“Not much. It's slow today. That's nice for a change. Gives the staff a chance to stand down and take a deep breath.”

“Speaking of the staff—”

He held up a hand. “I don't want to hear it. I've been completely charming. If anyone is complaining about me they need to take a happy pill because I can't
be
any better than this. What—”

“Since when do you say please and thank you?”

“Someone's ticked because I was polite?”

Rhonda shook her head. “No. There was an unconfirmed report that you were whistling in the halls.”

He frowned. “There's a rule against that?”

“No. But barking is your style. You never whistle and it's scaring my nurses.”

“I didn't do anything. I swear.” He grinned. “Trust me.”

One corner of her mouth quirked up. “Not the words to inspire confidence, Doc.”

“Seriously, all is well. I'm an easygoing guy.”

“Since when?”

Since sleeping with Sam last night, he thought.

He looked at Rhonda and continued to work his innocent expression. “I've always been an easygoing guy.”

“Maybe that guy is in there somewhere. But we haven't seen him since your brother died.” Rhonda wasn't the type to sugarcoat it and she didn't now.

He appreciated her honesty. Mostly. But his gut twisted with the bitter memory of a death he hadn't been able to prevent, the person he'd most wanted to help and couldn't. “I've put it in the past and turned over a new leaf.”

Rhonda's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Mean Mitch is gone. Cool, calm, peaceful, placid Mitch has taken over.”

“Now you're starting to scare
me
. Do you have a schizoid thing going on?”

“I'm the same lovable guy I've always been.”

She sat down in the metal folding chair beside him. “Then who can we thank for the new and improved, peaceful, calm Mitch?”

Sam, he thought again.

He looked at Rhonda and knew he couldn't tell her about great sex with Samantha Sunshine. That was unprofessional and a gentleman just didn't spread stuff like that around.

“It wasn't that hard a question, Mitch. What's going on with you?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “If I wasn't serene Mitch, this interrogation could seriously tick me off. You can't satisfy some people. They complain to the powers that be if I'm abrasive and demanding. They cower behind you if I'm charming and polite. What does a guy have to do around here to get you off his back?”

“Tell me who gets the flowers to express the staff's gratitude for this change in you.”

He pointed at her. “I get it. You're fishing for gossip. You want details to spice up lunch conversation.”

“Maybe.” Her mouth twitched. “It helps pass the time in an interesting way.”

“You'll get no dirt from me,” he said in his best I'm-above-all-that voice.

“Seriously? You're not going to dish about who she is?”

“What makes you think it's a she?”

“Oh, please. This is me. You got some.” She stared at him and her gaze was knowing. “If not last night, recently you did the horizontal hokeypokey. If I was chirping like a happy little bird at everyone you'd be all over me for a name.”

She had his number. “The fact that you're right doesn't mean I'm going to sing like a canary.”

“So there is someone?”

“I'm not talking.” He pressed his lips together.

“You're not denying, either.” The pager at her waist let out a shrill noise and she plucked it off to check the display. “Boy, are you one lucky son of a gun.” She stood up. “This isn't over, Doc.”

He watched her leave the room and realized she could interrogate him until hell wouldn't have it, but no way he was talking about Sam. And there was no question she was responsible for the way he felt.

The sex was great. Better than great. Her warm, willing, sexy curvy little body snuggled in his arms was about the biggest turn-on in the universe. Being with her had pushed away the darkness that always threatened to pull him in. But he couldn't quite snuff out the thought that this metamorphosis from mean to serene Mitch had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Sam.

He wanted more of her; he wanted to see her again. But she'd turned him down flat. So he'd go to plan B. If she wouldn't go out with him, he would find another way to spend time with her.

S
am made some notes on the session with her last client, a working mom whose husband wasn't pulling his share of the domestic load. They'd talked about strategies to engage him in the day-to-day difficulties of three children, two pets, two careers and a big house. The woman had a job she loved but was considering giving it up to better meet the demands of getting kids to ballet, piano lessons, baseball and soccer practice, not to mention keeping their environment decent enough to meet basic health department standards. She was typical of the modern woman with all the stresses and frustrations.

And everything Sam had always wanted.

Her goal was to highlight the positives and joy of this life while pointing out ways in which dad/husband could help with the burden. A woman should be able to have it all just like a man.

There was a knock on her office door. She glanced at her wristwatch and realized it was nearly 7:00 p.m., after office hours. “Come in, Darlyn.”

When the door opened, her boss wasn't standing there. “Hi,” Mitch said.

Her heart started hammering the way it always did when he showed up. If it wasn't so exciting, it would be damned annoying. Actually, it was still damned annoying. And completely unacceptable. This was Monday, two days since she'd last seen him and, up until this moment, a good start to her work week.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I just had my appointment with your boss.”

“Oh.”

So, he had an excuse to be on the premises. That still didn't give him a pass to invade her space. She'd told him they couldn't see each other. Difficult man. Her father was bad enough, but he was family. She'd thought he'd prepared her to handle a difficult man, but Mitch Tenney was difficult in an entirely new and completely different way. An exciting way. But he was a problem she didn't want or need. And she'd told him so. Right after he'd made love to her until she'd been putty in his hands and purred like a contented kitten.

The memory of seeing him naked started the blood pumping through her veins and brought a flush of warmth to her cheeks. He looked darn good dressed, too. The worn jeans, white cotton shirt and black leather jacket worked for her. No, not for her. It was strictly an observation. He could be any guy on the street who was public eye candy.

But she didn't sleep with just any eye candy. She'd slept with
him
. And she had a little bit of a crush/hero-worship thing going on. Somewhere in the back of her mind she'd known seeing him was inevitable. If there was any positive to him showing up now it was getting this first postcoital meeting over with. She'd had no time to anticipate and fret about whether or not her hair and makeup were perfect. Oh, for Pete's sake. It so didn't matter what she looked like. She was a professional, not a hormonal teenager.

“How are you, Sam?”

Acting like a hormonal teenager, thank you very much. “Fine. And you?”

“Good.”

“How was your weekend?” he asked.

“Fine. And yours?” Automatic words that she desperately wanted back when a satisfied grin turned up the corners of his mouth.

“Great. I had to work Sunday, but Saturday night was very nice.”

Yeah. For her, too. She had to get this back on a professional footing. “And how was work?”

“Quiet. But I was in a great mood. All the nurses are talking about it.”

As if she needed another reason to blush. Show some spine, Sam, she ordered. Sitting up straight, she folded her hands and set them on the desk. “You should attend fund-raisers more often, Mitch. That philanthropic spirit feeds the soul and shines through.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. They stared at each other for several moments and for the life of her all she could think about was how sexy he looked with his shoulder braced against the doorjamb.

“Aren't you going to ask me about my session with Darlyn?”

Duh. “Sorry. Of course. How did it go?”

“Okay.”

“Wow. Praise like that will do wonders for her professional reputation. Corporations all over Las Vegas will be clamoring for her services.”

“Someone took a sassy pill,” he observed, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Not yet, but I could be persuaded.”

“It's good to hear you're in a mood to be won over.” He moved then, into her office and around the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Making lifestyle changes as ordered.”

He pulled her to her feet, then took her hand and tugged her down the hall to Darlyn's office. He knocked on the door and when the word came to enter, he pulled her inside along with him.

Darlyn looked up from the paperwork on her desk. “Mitch. I thought you'd left. Was there something else you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes.” Still gripping her hand, he urged Sam forward. “I want to request that Sam be my counselor.”

“I see.” In her late forties, Darlyn Marshall looked at least ten years younger. Her auburn hair was short and no-nonsense, like the woman herself, but her warm, cinnamon-colored eyes kept her from looking too severe. “Do you mind if I ask why you're making the request?”

“It has to be said that wasn't my idea.” Sam pulled her hand from Mitch's. “I didn't know he was going to do this, Darlyn. Obviously you're the best—”

“It's okay, Sam. There's no ego involved. I'm simply curious.” Darlyn looked at Mitch. “So, Doctor, would you care to explain your reasoning?”

“I'm glad you asked.” He slid his fingers into the pockets of his jeans. “Let me say up front that it's not a conflict with you in any way. I feel that my progress would be faster and the counseling more effective if I worked with Sam. It's as simple as that.”

“I see.” Darlyn tapped her pen on the pad in front of her. “Sam? What do you think?”

“You're the best. Let's leave well enough alone,” she answered.

Mitch shook his head. “I disagree. Correct me if I'm wrong. This is your sphere of expertise after all, but doesn't a person need to feel completely comfortable in a situation to have a successful outcome?”

“That's true,” Darlyn confirmed. “And we do our best at Marshall Management to match client and counselor. But I believe I'm the most qualified to assist you in making the changes necessary to enhance your professional life.”

“I see.” Mitch nodded thoughtfully. “Then I'm in the awkward position of having to make a choice about whether or not to continue with Marshall or take my business to a competitor.”

Sam nearly gave herself whiplash as she turned to glare at him. He could go outside the hospital contract if he wanted. Who was going to stop him? Harsh words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she was professional enough to hold back. Being a consummate professional, Darlyn showed no reaction to his ultimatum.

After several moments of silence, she said, “Sam, may I speak with you alone?”

“Of course.” She looked at Mitch. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” He nodded. “Ladies.”

When he'd left and closed the door behind him, Sam sat in the chair in front of her boss's desk. “I'm so sorry, Darlyn. Please don't think I'm trying to sabotage you or steal a client.”

“That never occurred to me.” Darlyn held up a hand. “If you were, you'd never have told me he wanted to retain your services after that very first session. When I was ill.”

“I thought you should know.”

“Full disclosure.”

“Yes. Trust is paramount in any relationship—personal or professional.” Sam linked her fingers in her lap. “The thing is, he's a difficult individual. I believe he wants me because he feels that I'll be more easily handled.”

And based on how little effort it took to get her into bed he'd be right about that. Even cutting herself some slack that he'd caught her at an emotional low point, and technically she'd violated no ethical code of conduct by sleeping with him, she wasn't prepared to reveal to her boss what had happened. She simply wanted Darlyn to pull rank and make the decision to continue working with Mitch. Call his bluff.

“I hear what you're saying,” Darlyn said. “You certainly know yourself, but I don't necessarily agree that you're a pushover for Dr. Tenney.” The words should have been reassuring. “The thing is, Sam, my goal in going out on my own was to grow the business. Getting the hospital contract was a very big step in doing that.”

“I see.”

“Having an unsuccessful outcome with our very first challenging client will not earn capital in terms of establishing confidence or a positive reputation in this town.”

Sam took no satisfaction from the fact that she'd said almost the same thing to Mitch just a short time ago. She had a bad feeling about this. “And?”

“He has the right to request whomever he wants to work with. I'd consider it a personal favor if you would agree to his terms.”

Her heart dropped. “You know I'd do anything you asked.”

“I know.” Darlyn smiled. “And I know this man pushes some professional buttons for you.”

Some personal ones, too. But she wouldn't say so. “Yeah. He does,” she agreed.

“If there was any other way, I wouldn't ask you to do it.”

“I know.” There was no point in trying to wiggle out of this. Her back was against the wall. “I'll do my best.”

“That's a given. Thanks, Sam.”

“Don't mention it.”

She stood and walked back to her office. It shouldn't surprise her that Mitch was still there, but his presence took her aback.

“So, what's the verdict?” he asked.

“As if you didn't already know.”

“I take it you're my new counselor?”

“Oh, please.”

“Excellent,” he said with a grin. “So I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Not the way you mean.” She looked up at him and got a smidgen of satisfaction when the grin disappeared and his eyes narrowed. The fact that he'd completely disregarded her ultimatum—wishes, needs, whatever you want to call it—was proof that this was wrong. The only way to make it right was to lose herself in the job.

“You can make an appointment on your way out,” she said.

If there was any good news, it was that he'd changed the professional dynamic and there was no way she would sleep with him again. No matter how he tempted her personally, she'd never jeopardize her career. Showing her father that she wasn't a flake took top priority. Violating the ethics of her office wouldn't get the job done.

Mitch Tenney with his devil grin and killer bod might tempt her to compromise something she'd worked so long and hard for but she'd never give in to it.

 

Mitch wanted more of Sam, but not here at the hospital. He leaned against the wall outside of trauma bay three and studied her, taking notes on him. She'd told him that before his next appointment she needed to observe him at work—or as he liked to say to her, in his natural habitat.

She looked so darn cute with her square, black-framed glasses on her turned up nose and curls pulled back in a ponytail that skimmed the spot on her neck that he knew was particularly sensitive. If the E.R. wasn't teeming with employees, he'd take that spot out for another spin and see if history would repeat itself and he could coax a moan from her Cupid's bow mouth.

He'd really enjoy giving her something else to do with her hands instead of writing down everything he said and did, evaluating his people skills she called it. Have clipboard will document every interaction. When he'd insisted on her as his counselor, he'd figured to spend time with her and dispel whatever reservations she had about seeing him. But being shadowed on the job wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind.

“How's the hand?” he asked.

She glanced at him and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “What?”

“Got writer's cramp yet?” he said, pointing to the clipboard. “You're taking a lot of notes. I can't imagine that someone with the flu, or a broken arm and a bump on the head, is grist for the great American novel.”

She held the clipboard to her breasts like armor. “It's not fiction. In fact the material I'm gathering on you will be incredibly helpful in your retraining.”

“Retraining?” He folded his arms over his chest. “What am I? A seal?”

“You're a talented and dedicated emergency room doctor whose people skills need tweaking.”

“You think I'm talented?” he asked.

“No one disputes that,” she said, a faint pink creeping into her cheeks.

She was remembering that night, too, and he was glad not to be the only one. He sincerely hoped the
talented
she was referring to was about what they'd done horizontally. “And dedicated?”