SH Medical 08 - The Baby Dilemma (3 page)

Yet what did he really look like? Whose smile would she see on her child’s face every morning? If her little one had a dimple or odd-shaped toes, she might never know whether they came from the father or from one of her own ancestors. And the child would never know, either.

As the guests found their places at the round tables, Paige spotted her colleague, Dr. Zack Sargent, with his eight-year-old stepdaughter, Berry. He’d told Paige the whole story once while they waited to observe Dr. Tartikoff perform an innovative surgical technique. He’d adopted the little girl when he married her mother, and was raising her alone since his wife had died of heart disease three years ago. His daughter didn’t resemble him—her mother had been African-American—but there was no mistaking the love flowing between them.

Paige and her child would share that same kind of unshakable love. And that was what counted.

Still, life was never that simple. Having grown up with five bossy siblings, Paige had figured being a family of two would be luxuriously intimate. Now doubts began creeping in. Didn’t a child deserve to know both parents? What about unsuspected medical issues that might not have shown up since the father hadn’t yet reached middle age? And while Paige had chafed at her siblings’ attempts to control her, her own child might long for a brother or sister.

Her gaze fixed on Mike, who was posing with the bride and groom, along with several young people and an older couple who must be the Aarons. According to Erica, Mike had flourished in a family enlarged by foster kids. He certainly looked in high spirits next to a woman only a few inches shorter than him, identical sandy hair tickling the collar of her dress. On his other side, he looped an arm around a shorter woman whose high cheekbones and dark coloring indicated a Hispanic and perhaps part Native American heritage. What a warm, stimulating household he’d grown up in.

In the abstract, compensating for the absence of a dad hadn’t struck her as all that difficult. But regarding Mike’s tall, steady figure, she wondered how exactly she was going to do that.

Well, a woman shouldn’t be denied motherhood simply because she’d given up on finding the right man. Lots of mothers raised their families alone and Paige could, too.

“You’re sitting with us!” The cheerful greeting from Dr. Nora Franco roused Paige.

“Wonderful.” She turned to greet Nora’s husband, Leo, a police detective who’d once worked with Mike. “I hope they’re going to serve food soon,” Paige added as the three of them took seats.

“Did you skip lunch?”

On the point of answering that she’d eaten a sandwich but her stomach was churning, Paige realized how revealing that comment would be. Not only had Nora known Paige since they’d served their residencies together, she was also an obstetrician. She might notice the possible sign of early pregnancy.

“Something like that.” Quickly, Paige changed the subject. “Any idea when you’re coming back to work? Not that I’m in a hurry.” Eager to join the Safe Harbor staff, Paige had taken over Nora’s practice during her maternity leave.

“I hate to tear myself away from Neo. He’s incredibly cute, and I had no idea a seven-month-old could be so smart.” Nora chuckled. “Just listen to me! Anyway, when I do, I’d prefer to work part-time, so I hope you’ll stay on.”

“That sounds great.” It was exactly what Paige wanted. She was enjoying the patients, and the chance to advance her surgical skills and learn the newest fertility treatments. With her previous medical group, she’d felt her skills stagnating. She’d had personal reasons for leaving, as well.

Her attention shifted to the bridal table, where Erica and Lock sat among a flock of relatives. “Do you ever miss being part of a big family?” she blurted. Nora’s only close relative was a father who lived several hours’ drive away. “I mean, now that you have a baby.”

“Leo’s brother Tony lives close by,” her friend reminded her. “And my sister-in-law Kate’s been very helpful. Neo loves playing with his cousins.”

“Cousins are great,” Paige replied automatically, and recalled with a pang that her baby wouldn’t grow up anywhere near his or her cousins. In fact, thanks to the ten-year age difference between her and the youngest of her siblings, Paige’s nieces and nephews ranged from school age up to their late twenties.

Still, a couple of her nieces and nephews had babies of their own.
Maybe we wouldn’t be so isolated, after all.

“You’re thinking again.” The amused baritone belonged to Mike. With a fluid motion, he reversed the empty chair beside Paige and straddled it. “Someone ought to make a video of your face and put it on YouTube. It would go viral.”

Paige shuddered. “Don’t talk to a doctor about going viral. It raises scary associations.”

Nora cast a knowing look in their direction and, after congratulating Mike on his brother’s wedding, turned her attention to Zack and his daughter on her far side. Paige couldn’t blame her for assuming they were indulging in a flirtation.

“Speaking of viral, that dress could give a guy a fever,” Mike joked.

Oh, for heaven’s sake!
“Aren’t you supposed to sit with the bride and groom?” Paige asked testily.

“Are you avoiding the subject?”

“You mean the subject of my voluptuous body?” Might as well give him a direct answer. “Yes, because it’s none of your business.”

“Then why aren’t you all covered up like my sister Marianne?”

Maybe it was the teasing light in those blue-gray eyes, or the inviting glint of white teeth. Most likely, she was feeling the contrary effects of hormones. Whatever the cause, Paige found herself wishing that she could have a real conversation with Mike Aaron that didn’t involve innuendo.

“You must like me or you wouldn’t keep showing up in my path,” she said. “So let me give you a tip, Mike. I guess it’s a cliché to say women don’t like being treated as sex objects, and maybe some do, but not me. Talk to me with respect. Treat me like a friend. I’m not saying that’ll get you anywhere, but it won’t make me dread dancing with you.”

He started to speak and hesitated. She could practically see the gears shifting.

“It’s fun to tease you. You flush bright red and I guess I enjoy the reaction,” Mike admitted.

“Well, I
don’t
enjoy it.”

“What else should we talk about?”

Paige chose the first topic that came to mind. “How about what it’s like to grow up in a big family.”

“Chaotic,” he said.

“For me, it was claustrophobic.”

“How many siblings do you have?” he asked.

“Three brothers and two sisters. All much older.” The senior brother, Curren, a radiologist, had recently turned fifty-three.

“I assumed you had at most one sibling,” Mike said.

“Why is that?”

“It must take a lot of encouragement and support to go to med school.” As he spoke, he seemed like a different guy, straightforward and thoughtful. Not that Paige expected this new attitude to last, but it was an appealing change.

“My family opposed my career plans, even though my dad was a doctor and so are two of my brothers,” she said. “They thought I should be a nurse like my mom and sisters and take time out to raise a family. Also, they weren’t convinced that I could hack it. To them, I’m the baby.”

“A big and very luscious baby,” came the immediate response, followed by, “Sorry. Force of habit.”

The way he ducked his head was endearing. Paige felt an unexpected touch of regret when she saw Lock waving from the head table. “They’re signaling you over there.”

Mike glanced toward his brother. “Ah. Duty calls.” He patted his pocket. “I’ve got my toast all prepared.”

“That comes later, I’m sure. Right now it looks like the food’s ready.” Wait staff had begun setting salads in front of the bridal party.

“See you when the music starts.” Flashing a grin, Mike uncoiled from the chair and cut away between tables.

She was rather looking forward to that dance, Paige discovered. And that was the most surprising thing of all.

Chapter Three

Mike could see he had to plan his campaign differently. Flirting and teasing came naturally to him, but he hadn’t meant to offend Paige.

Her frankness impressed him. She was smart and assertive, and interesting to talk to. He also liked that, while she was obviously capable of taking care of herself, she’d shown a sweet, vulnerable side when she mentioned her family’s lack of encouragement.

Contrary to the impression he’d apparently given, he didn’t consider her simply a sex object. Mike had no interest in shallow relationships. On the other hand, he had no interest in falling in love and getting his comfortable life torn to shreds, either.

The fact that he genuinely liked Paige made this dangerous territory. If anyone could tempt his emotions to venture too far, it might be her. But what fun was life without a little risk? As for her feelings, he intended to lay his cards on the table, so there’d be no misunderstandings.

They were both grown-ups. And neither of them could deny the attraction that had flared from the moment they met. Now Mike understood why his occasional overtures since then hadn’t lit any fires. He’d gone about this the wrong way.

Thank goodness she’d set him on the right track. Now he just had to figure out how to persuade her—in a friendly, respectful manner—to let him move into her house. And become her lover.

He really did need a place to live. As he finished his toast and watched Lock and Erica entwine arms to sip champagne, Mike had to admit he’d be glad to move out, and the sooner the better. Wedding gifts covered the pool table and crowded the kitchen counter. Baby gear filled the living room and made it hard to have his buddies over to watch TV. As for the refrigerator, he had a hard time finding space.

The meal and the toasts flew by, and across the room the band began warming up. Soon the leader was calling for the bridal couple to kick off the first dance.

“You should have practiced,” Mike told Lock.

“I know how to dance.” His brother sprang to his feet and helped Erica up.

“You never—” Mike broke off. His brother had avoided dancing in high school, but they hadn’t seen much of each other in the intervening years until Lock moved back from Arizona the previous summer. He wasn’t sure why he’d assumed the guy still didn’t dance. After all, most people figured Mike didn’t, either.

“Never what?” Lock demanded.

“Never mind,” he said, and was rewarded by a chuckle from his brother.

“Just watch my toes.” The petite nurse took her husband’s arm. “These shoes are fragile. Not to mention my feet.” She’d obviously noticed that Lock tended to make up in energy what he lacked in grace.

“I’ll be careful.”

A guy who was five feet ten could get away with winging it on the dance floor, Mike mused as he watched them make their way between tables. When you towered over people, everyone noticed your stumbles. Mike had taken ballroom lessons because he hated making a fool of himself. He was glad now. While he might be a little rusty, he remembered most of the moves.

The guests called out appreciatively as the tiny bride and her muscular husband swept around the floor in a waltz. Soon the senior Aarons joined them. Mike’s father, Joe, held himself tall and straight and gazed lovingly down at his wife, clearly still enraptured.

What was it like to spend thirty-five years together, raising two children of your own along with foster kids who numbered well into the double digits? Hadn’t his father ever longed for peace and quiet after a hard day drilling teeth and filling cavities? Mike wondered. And as a kindergarten teacher, his mother ought to have had her fill of kids at school. Yet they’d welcomed each new child with enthusiasm.

When Mike came home from the office, he liked having his pick of activities. A game of pool, a session on his treadmill, an evening with the guys. Still, there
was
something he’d like to add to the list. It involved a stunning redhead with a smart mouth and a determined tilt to her chin.

Across the floor, Paige was still eating. No sense trying to drag her away from her meal. Mike preferred to wait and approach in a laid-back manner in keeping with their new entente.

Instead, he addressed the bride’s mother, sitting across the table. “Bibi, would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“I’d be delighted.” The trim, well-dressed blonde, who looked too young to have a thirty-one-year-old daughter, rose gracefully.

He hadn’t considered the difference in their heights, Mike realized as he and Bibi circled the dance floor. People were grinning at the sight of them, but if she didn’t mind, neither did he. All the same, he was glad when one of the hospital staffers cut in.

Mike was about to ask Paige to dance when he felt the phone vibrating in his pocket. It was the answering service, he noted on the readout, and retreated to a hallway. “What’s up?”

“A woman called and said it was urgent,” came the familiar voice of Naomi Arrigo, who owned the service. “She identified herself as Mrs. Jones.”

“I don’t recognize the name.” If that was even her real name.

“She said she’s new. But very anxious to get hold of you.” Naomi had a list of instructions to follow when calls came in, including asking whether the person was a current client.

Mike saw no reason to interrupt his brother’s wedding reception for an appointment that could most likely wait. Still, he didn’t like to ignore a potentially serious situation. “Did she describe the nature of her business?”

“Only that it’s personal.”

If the woman was being threatened or beaten, she should call the police. But some women refused to notify the authorities even in the face of abuse. “How upset was she?”

“She was breathing hard, almost hyperventilating,” Naomi reported. “But she calmed down after we talked for a minute. I asked if she’s in danger and she said no, and then she insisted I contact you to make sure you’ll see her first thing Monday morning. She sounded like someone who’s used to being obeyed.”

Mike consulted his digital calendar. Although he had a busy week ahead with Lock gone, he’d been careful not to overbook. “I’ll slot her for 10 a.m. Monday. Where would she like to meet?” Depending on the nature of their problem, clients might prefer his office, their own premises or a neutral site such as a restaurant.

“Let me put you on hold and I’ll get right back to you,” the operator replied.

He passed the next couple of minutes reviewing his schedule and listening to a rock number emanating from the reception. Naomi wasted no time picking up again. “Ten o’clock is fine. At first she mentioned her home, but then she decided you might be spotted, so I gave her directions to the office. Sorry. That’s probably more information than you needed.”

“There’s no such thing,” Mike corrected. “One mysterious Mrs. Jones on the docket for 10 a.m. Monday. Thanks.”

“Glad to help, Mr. Aaron.”

As he reentered the large room, the music segued into a cha-cha. Although fast, it required the couple to hold each other, which was a definite plus. Mike didn’t see the point of dancing without physical contact.

Oh, now, hold on.
A fancy dance like this discouraged most participants, but a fellow with russet hair a shade brighter than Paige’s was already leading her onto the dance floor. It was none other than Dr. Tartikoff, who was more or less her boss at the hospital. Happily married, too, judging by the way his wife nodded approvingly from the sidelines. So nothing to worry about.

Except that Mike didn’t like getting beaten to the punch. Or the fluid way the two doctors went through their paces, hips shifting, footwork crisp, almost as if they’d rehearsed. Dr. Tartikoff might be slightly shorter than his partner, but his effortless confidence made him seem taller. An alpha male, without a doubt. The kind who considered that all the women in his sphere belonged to him.

Mike tamped down his instinctive competitiveness. The doc wasn’t trying to pick up Paige right in front of his wife. And the women of Safe Harbor Medical Center didn’t constitute a harem, either. Look at Erica, Dr. T’s favorite surgical nurse, getting married right under his nose.

That might be why he was asserting his masculinity in full view of everyone. And doing a damn fine job of it, Mike had to admit as other dancers dropped away to watch. But who could pay attention to Dr. T when Paige looked so spectacular? The green dress caressed her curves, her eyes shone and her entire body moved in synch with the beat.

Mike should be the man partnering her. He wanted that gleaming smile to focus on him.
Yes, but it’s fun being able to stand back and watch her, too.

At last the song ended. When the pair finished with a flourish, applause erupted across the room.

Paige’s partner escorted her off the floor. Stepping forward, Mike smoothly took her elbow. “Great job,” he told them.

“Thanks.” Dr. T gave a nod of acknowledgment before departing toward his table.

“That was possessive of you,” Paige murmured. She didn’t sound irked, just breathless.

“Ready for another go?” Mike asked. “Or do you need a break?”

The band eased into a slow number. “I’m ready. I prefer to cool down in motion, like a racehorse.”

It was an apt comparison, with her long legs and sleek lines. “Where’d you learn to cha-cha like that?”

“I took dance classes in high school.” She kept hold of Mike’s arm as they made their way to the rapidly filling dance area. “And the occasional refresher course.”

“You’re very coordinated.” Not the most graceful compliment to pay a woman, but genuine.

“I’d better be. I’m a surgeon.”

“Hand-eye coordination is different.”

“Surgery also requires kinesthetic awareness and stamina.”

“How’s that?” Mike asked as he rested one hand on the lady’s tantalizingly nipped-in waist and enfolded her hand in his. He’d never considered that surgery had much in common with athletics.

“Operations can last for hours. Delivering babies takes strength, too. And you have to be alert at any hour, even when roused from a deep sleep. Babies don’t wait for the alarm clock to ring.” Her cheerful tone made her job sound like a treat. The energy radiating from her was downright sexy.

“I’ll bet anyone who gets close to you needs stamina, too,” he said, and regretted it when he felt her stiffen. “Forget I said that, would you?”

“Consider it done.”

He really did have to curb his teasing, Mike reflected. Also, it took concentration to navigate the crowded floor.

He didn’t often dance with a woman tall enough to fit against him, her legs easily matching his steps, her lips nearly level with his. Mike resisted the temptation to hold her tighter, and was glad to feel her relaxing.

Casting about for a neutral subject, he said, “Glad to see you and your boss get along.”

“He’s not exactly my boss and we don’t always get along,” Paige returned ruefully.

“You don’t?” Mike asked, more because he enjoyed hearing Paige’s throaty voice close to his ear than because of any interest in Dr. T.

“It’s complicated,” she said. “Many of my patients have nothing to do with the fertility program. But I am part of the hospital staff when it comes to performing surgery and using their labs.”

“And in that area, Dr. Tartikoff makes the rules?”

“Yes. Subject to the supervision of the hospital administrator, Dr. Rayburn.” She indicated a black-haired man built like a quarterback, dancing with a sharp-featured blonde.

“You get along with him?” Mike, who made it a point to get to know community leaders, had run into Dr. Rayburn a few times and found him both straightforward and a good listener.

“I’d better. He’s my personal doctor, as well as the chief.”

“How can he do both?”

“Like I said, doctors have stamina,” Paige replied brightly.

“So do detectives,” Mike mused.

“Don’t you focus on administrative duties? I mean, as the owner.”

“Co-owner, with Lock. He and Patty, our other agent, handle most of the fieldwork, while I take care of the administration and bringing in new business. I also specialize in online research, but I like to keep active.”

“Aren’t you the boss?” she asked.

“I try to order Lock around, but he’s not buying it. Patty’s no pushover, either.”

She sniffed. “I had the impression you like being in control.”

Much as Mike wanted to argue, he couldn’t. “True. But that doesn’t mean I always get my wish.” Out of curiosity, he added, “You don’t like bossy men, do you?”

“Not usually.”

At least she’d qualified her remark, Mike reflected. “What type of men
do
you prefer? If they’re too easygoing, surely they’d bore the socks off you.”

Several moments passed while she considered. The music shifted into a faster tempo, and he was concerned he might lose her. But she merely adjusted her stride to his as they twirled faster.

“Men I respect,” Paige said at last. “How about you—what’s your type? Cute little ladies, or Amazons like me?”

Mike ignored the teasing reminder of his reference to her. “I don’t think I have a type. My ex-wife was short.”