Expecting the Doctor's Baby (8 page)

“So, do you have plans tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Costume party?”

“Yes.” She glanced at him. “Good guess.”

“Have I ever mentioned how helpful my powers of deduction can be in practicing medicine?”

“I don't doubt it.”

Watching her make chicken scratches in a notebook reminded him about her dyslexia. He couldn't begin to understand how tough that must have been, yet it hadn't crushed her spirit. She was brimming with enthusiasm and good humor, even when he was surly and irritable, and working at getting a rise out of her. But then, she'd had a lot of practice with that after growing up around Arnold Ryan.

“Here you are.”

Mitch turned at the sound of the sultry, female voice. The dark-haired, blue-eyed stunner dressed in tight jeans, tight black sweater and calf-high black boots wasn't looking at him.

Sam smiled brightly. “Fiona. Hi. Thanks for coming by to get me. I'm almost finished.”

“Hurry it up. My car is in some poor physician's parking space and if he or she needs it in a hurry, a patient hovering between life and death could be in trouble.”

“That would be where I come in,” Mitch said.

Frowning, Sam looked from him to the other woman. “I'm sorry. Mitch, this is my sister Fiona. Fee, this is Dr. Mitch Tenney.”

Tall, slender Fiona Ryan held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Mitch,” he said, squeezing her fingers. “Are you going to a costume party?”

“Yes. What was your first clue?” she asked, giving him the once-over.

“It's Halloween. You're here to pick up Sam. She's in costume and just informed me that she's going to a party.” He shrugged. “I connected the dots.”

“His powers of deduction are legendary,” Sam said wryly. “Don't underestimate him.”

“Not a chance.” Fiona's eyes sparkled with female interest. “So you're a doctor?”

He nodded. “Emergency medicine.”

“As in paramedics, ETA four minutes, GSW to the chest?”

“Gunshot wound?”

“I watch TV.” She lifted one shoulder. “The emergency room must be exciting.”

He looked at Sam. More than Fiona could possibly know. “There's also the occasional kid in a costume accident. Ignoring flu symptoms for too long. Allergic reactions. You never know what kind of trauma is waiting just around the corner.”

“I'm impressed.”

He shrugged. “Just the nature of the job.”

“You're being too modest. Saving lives is incredibly noble.”

It was the ones he couldn't save that haunted him. But he didn't plan on sharing that. “What do you do?”

“I'm an attorney.”

“So you're the other Ryan with Upshaw, Marrone, Ryan and Ryan,” he said.

“That's right. How did you know?”

“Connor came by for lunch one day,” Sam said. “I introduced him to Mitch.”

Fiona glanced between them. “I have powers of deduction, too, and I'm guessing Mitch is one of your clients?”

“Yes.”

“If only mine were as interesting,” she said.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Sam clicked her pen closed and flipped the papers back on her clipboard.

“What kind of law do you practice?” Mitch asked.

Fiona shrugged. “A little of this. A bit of that. Corporate mostly.”

“Too bad.”

“Oh?”

“If you were a trial attorney you'd have the jury eating out of your hand,” he said.

“Fiona doesn't have to rely on her looks,” Sam snapped. “She's too smart for that.”

“I'm sure she is.” Mitch didn't miss the irritation in his coach's voice. Did it have anything to do with his premeditated sexist remark or the fact that he was flirting with her sister to deliberately needle her? “But the fact that she's beautiful can only work in her favor.”

“People do tend to underestimate me,” Fiona agreed. “I used to find it irritating. Why is it men can be hunky and smart, but a woman can't be brainy and beautiful?”

“That's a good question.” Mitch leaned against the high counter of the nurse's station. “Obviously a smart girl like you uses all her assets.”

“
You
could take lessons.” Sam was actually scowling at him. “Oh, that's right. You are taking lessons.”

And he had liftoff on the provocation rocket. “I thought we established that I have excellent powers of deduction.”

“And if you tacked on some of the charm you're taking out for a spin, you could rule the world,” she snapped. “I've been trying to get you to tap into this side of your personality. Who knew my sister could bring it out in less than a minute?”

“Imagine that,” he said calmly. “So, Fiona, what are you going to be for Halloween?”

“The cape is in the car.” She smiled. “Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Watch out for the Big Bad Wolf,” he cautioned.

Sam made a scoffing sound. “Wolf alert, Fee. Run far, run fast while there's still time.”

“If I didn't know better, Sam, I'd be offended that you believe I have less than honorable intentions.”

“You mean you don't?” Fiona glanced at her sister. “That's a real shame.”

“Don't we need to get going, Fee?”

Fiona glanced at the watch on her wrist, then smiled at him. “Yes. We're late and I'm in an unauthorized parking space. Nice to meet you, Mitch.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“I'll bring the car around to the E.R. entrance and meet you there, sis.”

“Okay.” Sam watched until her sister had walked through the double doors.

When she started to walk away without a word, Mitch put his hand on her arm. “Hold it.”

“What?”

“Do you want to tell me what made
your
mood swing to the dark side?”

“No.”

“You're not jealous, are you?”

“Don't flatter yourself.”

“Heaven forbid,” he said, holding up his hands. “But I couldn't help noticing that your hostility was showing just a little. Most people wouldn't even be aware of it. But you and I have spent a little time together working on my sensitive side. So…” He shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed and if her face wasn't painted green there would be pink in her cheeks. It took very little to remind him of the night he'd taken her home after her father had made her cry. He'd hated seeing her hurt but couldn't regret that he'd been there for her.

“We've spent time together in a professional capacity,” she said, clearly unwilling to acknowledge the personal.

“That's true. But I've come to know your personality a little, just as you've observed me.” He studied the expression in her brown eyes and couldn't get a handle on what she was thinking. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, he nudged it up. “What's up with you, Sam? You're looking a little green. Is it possible you're jealous?”

“Not possible. I
am
jealous.”

“I see.”

And he was glad he wasn't the only one. It was shallow, selfish and stupid. Not to mention a damn waste because this attraction couldn't go anywhere. But he couldn't deny it was there.

“Boys always like Fiona better.” Surprise widened her eyes. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah.” He straightened her pointy hat. “You're talking about in school, right?”

“I mean now. Whenever we're together boys—men—are drawn to my sister.”

“I'm not.”

“You were flirting with her,” she accused.

“Busted.”

She looked confused but that didn't stop her from glaring at him. “If you're not attracted to her, why were you flirting? And badly, I might add.”

“Shame on you, Sunshine. That was a low blow.”

“Sorry.” She sighed. “I don't like being jealous.”

“And yet you stood up for her,” he pointed out.

“She's my sister. We had our issues growing up but we have a good relationship now.”

“Okay.”

“I love her.” She pulled the brim of her hat lower on her forehead. “I don't expect you to understand the Ryan family dynamics.”

“Does love give them the right to walk all over you?” Now he'd said it.

“They don't do that,” she protested.

“Maybe not Connor and Fiona. At least not that I've seen. But don't even try to tell me your father doesn't. I was there. What I don't get is why you take it.”

“The connection to my family means something,” she defended. “Preserving it is important to me.”

“You don't owe him your soul.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Let me get this straight. The tension between you and your mother is strung so tight the two of you look like you'll snap if you speak for more than two minutes.” She tapped her lip. “Oh, and you're divorced. You take some blame, but it's not your fault the marriage couldn't be saved. Do I have it right?”

Those were the facts he'd given her, but that was like diagnosing a brain tumor with nothing to go on but pulse and respiration. There was so much more. The waste of an innocent life—his child—and the lie that preceded it. Marriage kind of implied that a husband and wife made decisions together. Not so much for him and Barbara. That had damaged the marriage beyond hope of resuscitation.

“We're not talking about me.”

“And you have no right to talk about me unless your powers of deduction give way to being an expert on commitment, relationships and love. Until that happens, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't play Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf with my sister.”

“Not a problem.”

“Okay.” She made sure her nose was on straight, then said, “Happy Halloween.”

As he watched her walk away, Mitch frowned. Sam had told him off and that turned him on as much as when she was brimming with sweetness and light. Fiona wasn't the sister he was interested in and that was a damn shame. He had the hots for the Ryan who believed that love and commitment went hand in hand with responsibility.

He'd been there, done that, and all he had to show for it now was zero tolerance for waste.

S
am walked through the E.R.'s double doors when they whooshed open, then went to the information desk. She was relieved to see Rhonda, the nursing supervisor.

The woman smiled warmly. “Hi, Sam.”

“Rhonda.” She was too uptight to return the smile. “Is Mitch here?”

“No. As a matter of fact he left early. Why?”

“He didn't show up for his scheduled appointment.”

“He probably forgot,” Rhonda said.

Sam knew that couldn't be. For the last month they'd been meeting several times a week with field observations thrown in. In that time she'd learned Mitch had a mind like a steel trap and forgot nothing. She went from troubled to worried in a heartbeat.

“Is there a reason he left early?” she asked.

“It's pretty quiet. Now.” The plump brunette hesitated.

“What?” Sam implored. “Did something happen.”

“This is the emergency room. Something always happens.”

“I mean was he too honest? Did he push buttons and stir the pot?”

Rhonda shook her head. “It was just a bad day for him.”

“It would help if I knew—”

“You need to ask Mitch.”

“If I knew where he was, that's exactly what I'd do. I called the home number on file and his cell, but he didn't pick up, either. I don't even know where to start looking.” Sam leaned against the counter, suddenly exhausted as a bad feeling trickled through her.

“If I were you, I'd start looking at Green Valley Ranch.”

“The hotel/casino?” When Rhonda nodded, she said, “The place is pretty big. Can you be more specific?”

“The Whiskey Bar. He's mentioned it in passing a couple of times.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Besides GVR, here and home are the top two.” Her round face took on a curious expression. “Are you going to look for him?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Rhonda's gaze was direct. “I mean he didn't show up at his scheduled time. It happens. Most people don't go out of their way to find out why. They just charge a missed appointment fee. So what's up?”

“It's part of the Marshall Management Consultants service.”

“Then you're practically the only ones on the planet who still make house calls.”

Sam ignored that. “Thanks for the information, Rhonda. If he shows up will you ask him to call me?”

“Sure thing.”

Sam walked into the parking lot where it was dark and a cold wind was blowing, almost as cold as the dread building inside her. She chirped her car open then slid behind the wheel, started the engine and pulled out onto Mercy Medical Center Parkway. After crossing Eastern Avenue she continued to Paseo Verde and turned right.

When she'd gone looking for Mitch, she hadn't thought about how it would look. Rhonda was right about her behavior being above and beyond the call of duty. But she had good reason. The reputation of her company was at stake, not to mention her own. She was trying to prove to her father that she was smart. Validation of that fact would come when she was successful. Failure with a client, one who could impact her father's position, was not the way to achieve her career goal.

And if she believed all of that, she could sell herself beach front property in Pahrump. She was worried about Mitch. He wasn't a flake and in her gut she knew something was wrong.

She made a left-hand turn into the parking lot at the Green Valley Ranch Resort, then followed the signs to the parking garage. She parked on the fourth floor, then went straight into the place without taking an elevator. It was like walking into a wall of noise. Her senses were assaulted by the ringing and beeping of slot machines. Garishly lighted games were everywhere. On her left was the food court complete with places offering pizza, hamburgers, wraps and coffee. As she moved farther inside, she spotted signs for the multitude of drink and restaurant choices. After following the arrows, she found the Whiskey Bar and stepped inside.

When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she looked around. There were places to sit at the bar, with booths around the perimeter and tables scattered throughout. The wood, leather, glass and chrome conveyed an atmosphere of understated elegance and sophistication. For a weeknight in early November, the place was surprisingly full. Her heart sank when she didn't spot Mitch, but she decided to walk through just in case.

And there he was at a booth in a dark corner. All alone. Dressed in a dark T-shirt and black leather jacket, he looked more like a rebel bad boy than a doctor. She moved closer and noticed that in front of him was a glass with clear liquid and a lime.

Sam stopped beside him. “Hi.”

He didn't look up and didn't say anything.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.

“Go away, Sam.”

It was the tone in his voice more than the dark, bleak expression in his eyes that made her do just the opposite. She sat in the bench seat across from him. “What are you drinking?”

“None of your business.”

If he was drowning his sorrows, she was making it her business. She signaled the cocktail waitress, a pretty blonde in a low-cut top and short skirt revealing long legs encased in black nylons.

“What can I get for you?” she asked with a smile.

“I'll have what he's having,” Sam answered.

“Club soda with a twist of lime. Coming right up.” She walked away.

It was a relief that he wasn't medicating with liquor. She picked up the cocktail napkin and folded it. “Did you forget that we had an appointment?”

“No.”

So not showing up was deliberate. “You've never missed one before.”

He met her gaze. “So bill me.”

This was getting her nowhere. She'd try another tack. “Aren't you going to ask how I found you?”

“I don't care. If you were smart, you'd lose me again.”

“You could have called. Explained that it's been a bad day and rescheduled. I was concerned. This behavior is out of character.”

“This is exactly my character—a loner who doesn't count on anyone and that works both ways.”

“You're saying no one should rely on you?”

He just looked at her, his mouth pulled tight as the muscle in his jaw jerked.

Sam was worried before, but now she was borderline frightened. He'd been alternately abrasive, rude, heroic and sexy, but never so dark and wounded. It was as if his soul had imploded and she couldn't stand to see him like this.

“Talk to me, Mitch.”

“If I'd wanted to do that, I'd have kept the appointment.”

“I'm not your coach, now. I'm your friend. Tell my why it was a bad day.”

He shook his head and for a moment there was bottomless misery in his eyes. A hard, dark, angry look pushed it away. “Rhonda has a big mouth.”

“Not nearly big enough because she wouldn't tell me what happened.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I want to help you, but I can't if you won't open up. What was it, Mitch?”

“Just go—”

The cocktail waitress set her club soda with a lime twist in front of her and said, “Anything else I can get you two?”

“No,” Sam said. “Thank you.”

Mitch watched her for a moment, then looked back. “I'm fine, Sam. Go home.”

She toyed with her straw. “Not until I finish my drink.”

He glared at her. “You don't even want that.”

“You're right. I want you to let me help with whatever is bothering you. And I'm not leaving until you do.”

“Then I will,” he said.

“I'll follow.”

“Damn it, Sam—” His voice was harsh with exasperation. “Go away. Please—”

“No. We can sit here and say nothing. Or you can save us both a lot of time and aggravation and just give it up.” She took a sip of her drink. “Why did you have a bad day?”

Their gazes dueled in the silence as he took her measure. Finally he blew out a long breath and said, “I lost a patient.”

“I'm sorry. That must be hard. But why was this patient different?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Patients die in the E.R. It happens. Some are too badly injured by the time they're brought in. Sometimes they're just too sick. It's the nature of what you do and you're completely aware of that. But this is the first time I've seen you disappear into your cave. What's different?”

“It was a guy. Late thirties. Drug overdose.”

She searched his face and knew there was more. “Why did this one hit you so hard?”

“Because of my brother.”

“Your twin?” she asked.

He nodded. “Robbie. We were always close growing up, always friends. But after my dad was killed—”

“Murdered?” She tried to keep her tone normal when she was horrified by that revelation.

“He was a cop. It's how he and my mom met. Robbie and I were ten or eleven. This particular day he was off duty and working an extra job in security at a convenience store when some punks tried to rob it. They shot him and he died on the way to the hospital.”

“Oh, Mitch, I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” He held his glass and turned it in circles. “He had benefits, but my mom still had to support the family. She wasn't a detective then. Still a patrol cop.”

“That must have been hard. After losing your dad, you must have worried and wondered whether or not she'd come home.”

His look was far away, as if he wasn't with her any longer. “Every time she went to work she told me to look after Robbie.”

“You were twins. That made you the same age.”

“But Mom always said I was the responsible one. When I gave her a hard time, she played the responsibility card, reminded me he was my brother, and I loved him, so it was my job to keep him safe.”

He'd told her his brother was dead and she had an idea what was coming. As much as she wanted to fill in the blanks and spare him, there was the danger of him shutting down. He needed to say the words.

“What happened to Robbie?” she asked.

He met her gaze and the pain there was palpable. “He started using. After high school. After I went away to college. He abused drugs for years and eventually died at Mercy Medical Center.”

“You weren't on—”

“No.”

Her heart went out to him. “It's not your fault, Mitch.”

There was irony and self-loathing in his expression. “Then who's to blame? I didn't take care of him. And I didn't save him.”

“You're a man. You're human. You're a gifted doctor, but not a miracle worker. Robbie made a choice to take drugs, then became addicted. He couldn't shake it. That's not your fault. You can't blame yourself for that.” She could see he wasn't buying it. “You're a doctor and you save lives every day. You need to hang on to that. And remember this—in order to be successful one must learn to surmount a fear every day.”

“Spare me the motivational platitudes. I'm not afraid to be a doctor. That's the easy part.” His mouth twisted. “Do you know why I specialized in emergency medicine?”

“No. Tell me.”

“Because the patients are only in my care for a short time. I'm there for the golden hour. I stabilize them then pass them on for long-term care.” He pushed his glass away.

“Someone has to do the job and it takes a special kind of person to handle the pressure you deal with every day.”

“But I chose to do it for very specific reasons. Don't you get it, Sam? The message here is that I'm not a long-term kind of guy. I never have been and never will be. In the long term I screw up. You're wasting your time on me.”

“It's my time. And I don't happen to agree with you that you're a waste.”

She would, however admit to being deflated. He'd just confided a very private, personal pain and it was a breakthrough in her work. She should be exhilarated; this was
her
“golden hour.” But exhilaration was nowhere in sight. It was missing along with any hint of professional pride. What she felt was a deep empathy for what Mitch had experienced and it crossed over into personal territory.

She'd been straddling this line since meeting Mitch, but tonight she'd inched into a danger zone that put all her goals, including career and personal, at risk.

She'd grown up feeling like nothing more than a duty to her stepfather. But she was a woman now and found a need that bordered on desperation to know what it felt like to be loved for herself, for the unique qualities that made her who and what she was.

Why was fate so cruel? What was it about Mitch Tenney that had gotten her heart's attention from the first time she'd seen him?