The Baby Who Saved Dr. Cynical
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Connie Cox
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Chapter One
SHE’D done it. She’d sold Dr. Jason Drake’s reputation for three million dollars and a closed case.
As Director of Diagnostics, Dr. Stephanie Montclair had agreed to pay off the family’s wrongful death claim, with Dr. Jason Drake’s name on the line as the attending physician and no fault levied against Sheffield Memorial Hospital.
“We all tried our best to keep that precious little boy alive. Dr. Drake stayed up here three days straight trying to save little Isaac,” Stephanie offered in token protest to the ring of lawyers that surrounded her desk.
“You’re doing the right thing,” the chief legal counselor reassured her. “A good prosecuting attorney would have a judge and jury in tears inside three minutes flat. Even if we were to win the suit in the end, Sheffield Memorial can’t risk the prolonged negative publicity. And if Dr. Drake is called to the stand, with his brash manner, we can’t predict how he’ll come across.”
Reluctantly, Stephanie agreed. Jason was a great doctor—one of the best—but he’d never seen the need to sugarcoat his words.
“There has to be a better way. Sanction me instead.”
“Not an option, Dr. Montclair. The board would never approve it, and rightly so,” one of the lawyers said. “That move could put the whole department in jeopardy.”
The case had been heartbreaking. In conjunction with Diagnostics, Sheffield’s Neonatal Unit had tried scores of unorthodox methods to keep the premature infant alive, many of them beyond the edge of convention, only to have the grieving parents lash out at the hospital to try to ease their pain.
That little Isaac’s parents were high-profile celebrities hadn’t helped. The grief-stricken couple had threatened to call in every publicity connection they had if Sheffield Memorial didn’t take action against the culprit who’d killed their baby.
Stephanie could understand the parents’ anguish. Although she’d only known about her own baby a few short weeks, the thought of losing that tiny life inside her sent heavy waves of dread through her heart.
Still, she and the lawyers couldn’t make them understand there was nothing Jason or anyone else could have done better.
And now the hospital’s reputation was in danger. As a small, private research and teaching hospital, Sheffield Memorial kept its doors open only through grants and goodwill.
Dr. Wilkins chimed in. “Stephanie, the board recommendation to name Dr. Drake in the lawsuit is the least harmful action we can take for the greater good. Dr. Drake might have his shortcomings, but he’s one of the top diagnostic physicians in the world. His stellar professional standing can take the hit with no lasting, detrimental effect. That’s why we shell out the big bucks for his malpractice insurance.”
Not only was Wilkins the board’s treasurer, he was a family friend who had attended her christening. He knew her Achilles’ heel.
“We’ve already seen a drop in patient referrals. A messy court case along with a star-studded media circus would call our accreditations into question and jeopardize critical funding. We would have to turn away sick children who need us.”
Before she could waver, she signed on the dotted line. Each of the hospital’s team of lawyers stood and shook her hand, sealing the deal. She would be washing that hand as soon as possible.
As they left her office, Dr. Wilkins hung back from the others. “The board and I were worried you’d let your personal relationship with Dr. Drake influence your decision. They will be pleased to learn you had no qualms about putting Sheffield Memorial first.”
Stephanie clearly heard the unspoken threat behind his words, despite the fact the hospital was named after her maternal great-grandfather.
Doctors ran on both sides of the family. Her mother was a cardiologist. Her father an endocrinologist. Both sat on the hospital board. Although if a newcomer had suggested Stephanie had been appointed to her current position of Director of Pediatric Diagnostics because of who she was, instead of what she did, she hoped any of the hospital personnel would be quick to disabuse them. Stephanie worked day and night to be twice as competent as any other department head and prove she’d earned her position.
Then again, those who knew her staff didn’t envy her. She was the only department head who could handle Jason Drake.
“Tell them not to worry. I would never put the hospital at risk for personal reasons.” She hesitated to add more, but everyone on the Diagnostics floor already knew anyway. “Dr. Drake and I aren’t together anymore.”
“The board will be glad to hear it.” Whether that was a comment on her loyalty to the hospital or her relationship with Dr. Drake or both, Stephanie didn’t know. She only knew that, even though she’d effectively besmirched and betrayed Jason, she had made the right decision. So why did it feel so wrong?
Her stomach lurched, as if her baby were protesting Mommy’s ill treatment of Daddy. Yes, the deal she’d finagled left a very sour taste in her mouth.
* * *
Outside the patient’s open door, Stephanie stopped to gather her thoughts. She could see that Jason was already inside the room.
In accordance with the terms of the settlement, Stephanie would sit in on this case and every other case Jason picked up for the next six months. It was a mixed blessing that the bad publicity they’d already received had resulted in fewer patients checking into Sheffield Memorial. She wasn’t sure how she would have handled the extra duties along with her normal responsibilities. But at least the morning sickness was letting up now.
Her involvement in his cases hadn’t been an issue in the past. In fact, even though her administrative duties had limited her patient load, Jason had always invited her in on cases he’d thought would interest her. Hopefully he would continue to welcome her after he learned of the lawsuit.
As he paid little attention to any hospital business outside of medicine, she was counting on him shrugging off the deal as a necessary evil and continuing on as normal.
Only with the compromises she’d had to make it wouldn’t be quite as normal as she would have liked, though she would try to make it as painless as possible for both of them.
As usual, Jason wore scrubs, although the other diagnosticians wore business attire and lab coats. On his six-feet-four frame the drawstring pants and boxy shirt took nothing away from his lean build, kept hard with hiking and white-water rafting.
He needed a haircut. His spiky dark blond hair went out of control almost as fast as his mouth did. How many times had she finger-combed those strands into place after making love?
One too many, apparently.
Originally they had agreed to keep it casual. She had avoided relationships in the past, not wanting to take her focus off her climb up the medical ladder, but Jason Drake had seemed perfect. Remote. Stoic. Yet highly sensual and with no strings attached. Perfect for her first intentionally cavalier relationship.
When Jason had seemed reluctant to talk about himself, his roots, his past, his reticence had only helped her stay detached—at least that was what she’d told herself. She had gotten exactly what she’d thought she wanted. But now she couldn’t stop herself from wanting more.
She’d thought something special was developing between them, but now she understood she’d mistaken sexual attraction for an emotional connection.
No, she’d never meant to fall for him. He certainly hadn’t made the same mistake with her. Jason didn’t do emotions.
Now she was certain they had no future together. Not even for the sake of the baby. They might have if he’d bothered to show up for dinner that night, but she’d not been important enough to derail his plans—again.
At three and a half months, she would be showing soon. She should try again to tell Jason about the baby. He had a right to know, even if she didn’t expect anything from him.
If only he were daddy material.
* * *
Damn. He hated these cases.
The little dark-haired girl wasn’t quite four yet. She had big brown eyes that looked up to him to make her feel better.
He flipped through her chart, noting all the tests she’d gone through. The kid had been poked by more needles than a porcupine had. She couldn’t understand.
Stay objective. Sympathy doesn’t fix anyone.
First the baby boy, Isaac, and now this little girl was really getting to him. He was going soft. It didn’t help that this was the anniversary of his brother’s death—which should be the perfect reminder to keep his emotions out of the equation.
He needed a stress-reliever.
One good night in Stephanie’s bed would fix him right up. Her, too.
Medicine wasn’t the only thing he took pride in.
He still didn’t understand what had happened. It was only a missed dinner date, and they’d both agreed at the beginning to keep things casual. Their careers were too important for anything more serious, which suited Jason perfectly. He had vowed on his brother’s grave that he would never, ever lose himself in a relationship again.
Even if Stephanie didn’t want to be intimate they could share a meal, talk, enjoy each other’s company. Although he’d never been lonely before, since their breakup his evenings stretched into long, empty, sleepless hours to be endured before morning, when he could get back to his work.
He gave a tight nod to the girl’s mother. “The test results are in. It’s not multiple sclerosis.”
Her mother gave him a protective version of her daughter’s smile. “That’s good. What’s next?”
Automatically he compared the mother’s features to her daughter’s, looking for clues to an inheritable condition.
The father wasn’t in the picture. How could any man look at himself in the mirror after deserting his own child? And a developmentally disabled child at that?
“We’re still ruling out various forms of muscular dystrophy. We’re testing muscular DNA samples, which may tell us something and may not. I’m not going to do a nerve conduction velocity test until I have to. It’s rather uncomfortable and I don’t think Maggie will understand.” He should really run the test and get it over with, but Maggie had been through a lot lately and he might get his answer in a less invasive way.
Yes, he was definitely getting soft, and it was affecting his logic. Not good. For him or his patients.
His attention was diverted by Stephanie coming up behind them.
Jason would recognize that walk anywhere. Steady, confident and competent. In her customary high heels, she reached his chin. He only had to dip his head to meet her, mouth-to-mouth.
She walked with purpose. She did everything with purpose.
Directness was one of the qualities he admired about her—along with her body, her hair, her smell. He admired everything about her except her decision to break it off with him.
Her long, straight mink-brown hair was gathered into a low ponytail today.
It had been four weeks and two days since he’d freed it from its bindings and wrapped it around him like a waterfall in the privacy of her bedroom.
“I’ll be joining you on this case, Dr. Drake.”
“You’re the boss.” Not that he answered to any man—or woman. He knew his purpose in life. Grabbing people back from the abyss of death had nothing to do with administrative rules or regulations.
Still, she was good at what she did: juggling patient care, internal politics and financial budgets. He had to admit his life ran much more smoothly with her in charge.
What was different about her lately?
Did her eyes look deeper? Her face rounder? Was she glowing? She might have put on a few pounds. He couldn’t be certain with her open lab coat covering her button-down shirt and straight fitted skirt. If so, they looked good on her.
“I’m Dr. Montclair.” Stephanie introduced herself, giving equal attention to daughter and mother.
“Please call me Anne, and this is Maggie.” Maggie’s mom stood and shook hands.
Stephanie crouched down to Maggie’s eye level as the child sat in her bed. “How are you today, Maggie?”
Maggie looked past Stephanie and stuffed her doll’s hand into her mouth.
“I’m going to listen to your heart, okay?” She unwrapped her stethoscope from her lab coat pocket and hung it around her neck.
At Sheffield Memorial it was policy that each doctor on a case would check vitals and make independent assessments. Attention to such details was one of the key factors that made Sheffield Memorial such a renowned teaching and research hospital, even if it was much smaller than most public institutions.
Despite Stephanie’s cheerful tone and slow movements, Maggie whimpered and drew back.
Anne spoke up. “She only lets Dr. Drake do that.”
Jason frowned. He hadn’t realized. Maggie had no reason to like him or trust him. He hadn’t asked for that. He only wanted to assess her symptoms, identify the problem and fix it.
Stephanie stepped back. “What if I listen to Mom’s heart first?”
Maggie shook her head. An emphatic no.
Anne stroked her daughter’s hair to calm her. “Could Dr. Montclair listen to Dr. Drake’s heart, then?”
The child grinned around the doll in her mouth.
He and Stephanie hadn’t touched, even to brush hands, since their break-up. The anticipation of her hands on him made his skin quiver.
He took a step back. “If we need to forgo this I can debrief you with all Maggie’s vitals as well as her current condition before the diagnostics meeting, Dr. Montclair.”
“I appreciate that. Now, let’s set a good example for Maggie and try the stethoscope.” Stephanie fitted the earpieces and waggled her finger at Jason to come closer. “Stand still and take a deep breath, Dr. Drake.”
When she placed her hand on his chest, the single layer of material between them did nothing to stop a spark arcing between her hand and his heart. He concentrated on keeping his heart-rate steady but failed miserably. He could feel the pounding in his ears. What kind of example would he set for Maggie if he grabbed Stephanie and bolted from the room with her at her very proper touch?
Stephanie was having no problem being steady, cool and in control.
Using great discipline, he controlled his breathing, steadily in and out. His professional reputation was at stake.
Stephanie gave him a worried look but said nothing.
Finally, she dropped her hands and turned to Maggie. “Your turn?”
Aside from a grimace, the girl didn’t protest this time.
“Now let me take your pulse, Dr. Drake.” She held out her hand for his wrist.
No sense in fighting the inevitable. When she asked, he could deny her nothing.
Her warm, open palm held him as captive as a set of handcuffs. The pad of her fingers rocked back and forth until she found the throbbing in his wrist.
Would she notice if his heart skipped a beat or two?
“Thank you, Dr. Drake.” She turned back to Maggie, who appeared to be avidly looking to the left of their little charade. “Your turn, Maggie. May I hold your arm?”
To Jason’s amazement, Maggie held out her wrist. This was the first response she’d made to anyone’s request since she’d been hospitalized. From the sudden alertness in her mother’s eyes, this was unexpected for Anne, too.
Stephanie found the girl’s pulse and counted.
“Thank you, Maggie.” The moment Stephanie released her arm Maggie put it under the covers.
“Perfect,” she told the girl. “Now, let’s check ears and eyes. Dr. Drake, if you’ll sit, please?” She pointed to the visitor’s chair beside the bed.
Maggie scrambled to turn herself onto her side and peer through the railings to watch. Observing and analyzing Maggie’s movements helped distract Jason from the intimacy of his own examination. If Maggie could so easily pull her legs under her and twist sideways, why couldn’t she walk? She had once been able to run around the house without hesitation. How did her late ambulatory development factor in?
“Ears first.” Stephanie leaned over him, her breasts inches from his mouth. He swallowed hard to keep from drooling.
Her featherlight touch tickled the rim of his ear.
As Stephanie leaned close to look, her sweet breath warmed his neck.
Every primal cell in his body screamed for him to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his lair. For Maggie’s sake he kept himself still and unresponsive, although his clenched palms had begun to sweat.
“That didn’t bother you a bit, did it, Dr. Drake?”
“No, not at all.” He forced the lie past his gritted teeth.
“Now, let’s take a look at your eyes.”
There was no way Jason could hide the dilation of his pupils—a physiological reaction to his desire. To distract himself, he silently listed the noble gasses from the periodic table while congratulating himself on his own noble restraint.
Stephanie’s intense scrutiny made him want to wince away, but her hand on his shoulder held him still. Once she was satisfied with what she saw she released him. He sank back into the chair, so tense every nerve-ending twanged like over-tightened guitar strings.
Stephanie showed no signs of being affected at all. As if they were nothing but colleagues and had never been lovers. As if he’d never made her scream his name into the night, or washed breakfast dishes beside her in the morning.
What had he done besides miss a dinner date or two? Duty had called. She’d grown up in a doctors’ household. Surely she understood? It had to be something more.
“Your turn, Maggie.” Stephanie moved from chair to bedside.
Maggie began to protest by grunting, and waving the hand that didn’t hold her doll, but when Jason enfolded her fluttering hand in his she settled down and let Stephanie shine a light into her eyes as she stared at the wall past her mother.
“All done.” Stephanie stuck the small light into her lab coat pocket. “You’re a very brave girl, Maggie.”
At her name, Maggie slid her glance past Stephanie to rest slightly to the right. She held out her doll in an obvious invitation to be friends.
Careful to avoid the doll’s wet chewed hand, Stephanie took the ratty-haired toy and cradled it in her arms, giving the honor proper tribute. She gave the doll a pat and reverently tucked it into bed beside Maggie. “Thank you, Maggie. I’ll come back and visit soon.”
Stephanie would be a good mother. Jason’s thoughts startled him so much he stood abruptly. He’d never thought of motherhood and Stephanie Montclair in the same breath before.
She had a demanding job and a busy social schedule. How could she add motherhood to the mix, even if she wanted to? And then there was the little issue of who would father her child.
He had the strangest urge to volunteer.
First his disturbing emotional reaction to his patients and now this? No, he was not cut out to be a family man, much as he might daydream about it. He had enough past history to prove he did more harm than good in that role. He really needed to make arrangements for a few days off soon…
“Diagnostics meeting starts in five minutes.” He walked to the door to get Stephanie moving in that direction.
“If there’s anything I or my staff can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know,” Stephanie said to Maggie’s mother, sounding like the concierge of an expensive hotel. Was she really that worried about the fall-off of patients?
She probably was. Sheffield Memorial was her family’s legacy—something she took very seriously. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to make it thrive. Next thing he knew she would be sending in staff to put mints on the patients’ pillows.
Drake couldn’t fault her. If he’d had a legacy of any sort he might feel the same. But mongrels like him had no birthright to speak of. And the heritage he did have was better off left unspoken.
As soon as the door latched behind him, she stopped him with a hand to his arm, sending tingles to the soles of his feet. “Before we talk about the girl, I want you to get a physical. Your heart rate is too fast and your blood pressure is elevated.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a direct order. Got it?”
Protesting wouldn’t get him back on her good side. “Fine. I’ll get it checked out. I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I care. This hospital is in enough trouble with the media without one of our physicians dropping dead in the hallway because he neglected his own health.”
“Your concern is touching.” He put distance between them, but his arm still tingled where her hand had been.
Stephanie used all her will-power to keep from reaching out and pulling him back to her.
She craved the vibrations he sent through her when he touched her, the deep-seated sense of wellbeing and protection he gave her whenever he was near. But he had proved to her too many times that it was a false sense of security.
She couldn’t count on him to keep a dinner date, much less a vow of happily-ever-after.
Stephanie picked up her pace, putting even more distance between them. She didn’t need him, and neither did her baby.
A wave of exhaustion tinged with queasiness hit her, pressing on her shoulders and dragging at her heels. Normal, her obstetrician had promised her. It should pass soon.
Like a good Montclair, Stephanie soldiered on.
She would need to tell her parents soon.
They were so conservative. Telling them about her unplanned baby would disappoint them at first. Not only was she unwed, she was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. She should know how to prevent pregnancy.
Where once she would have whole-heartedly agreed with them, she now had a more sympathetic view. Accidents happened—even to medical professionals.
And this was a happy accident. She already loved her unborn child beyond measure.
Her parents and grandparents would support her in the end, even if they weren’t totally happy to do so.
The Montclairs and the Sheffields stuck together, putting on a united front. They always had. In fact, Stephanie felt confident that once they were over the shock of their dateless daughter being pregnant they would be thrilled at having a successor to carry on the family name—something her father perpetually worried about.
Her child would grow up knowing only respect and her unconditional love, no matter what anyone thought about his or her parentage. She would make sure of it.
Her child would be the center of her universe.
Yes, Stephanie was positive her child would lack for nothing except a father.
“Stephanie, are you all right?” Jason asked.
They had paused outside the conference room. When had they stopped walking? Preoccupation and distraction seemed to be another symptom of her pregnancy lately.
“I’m fine. Just fine,” she snapped at him.
“You’re pale.” He ran a finger down her cheek—way too intimate for their present circumstances. “And clammy. And you have a faraway look in your eyes.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“The lawsuit?”
“That’s an issue I can’t discuss with you right now.” Not until the board signed off on her decision. That would probably happen sometime this evening, during the Montclair-Sheffield fundraiser, with board members discreetly disappearing into a private alcove to affix their signatures to the document that would blemish Jason’s reputation.
But it was too late for second thoughts.
Soldier on, Stephanie.
Through the partially open blinds of the conference room she could see her diagnostic staff assembled. “They’re waiting on us.”
“Stephanie, if there’s anything I can do to help—”
His offer surprised her.
Too soon she would have the unfortunate duty of telling him how the hospital he had devoted his whole life to was selling him out.
Yes, he would be well compensated for his involuntary sacrifice, but the board didn’t understand. Jason didn’t do what he did for money. He did it out of passion.
Stephanie knew she was the only one who understood the passion Jason hid beneath his cynically stoic exterior.
All he had to do was brush against her to remind her.
“After you.” He held the door open for her, briefly trailing his fingertips on the small of her back to guide her through.
His gray eyes smoldered before he banked the fire, but she’d seen the desire that flickered there. And had felt a responding spark in herself—a spark that could all too easily be fanned into a full-blown inferno.
All vestiges of nausea and lethargy fled at his touch.
They were so good together. Maybe if…
No, it was too late for second thoughts.
