by Kristi Gold
Why he’d done it, he couldn’t exactly say. Maybe because she had seemed so lost and out of place among the medical icons and their wives. Maybe because she’d looked so beautiful yet lonely and he could relate to that. But the way she’d responded to his kiss had made him consider taking her to his bed to welcome in the new year—until she ran away. In truth, she’d been in his bed since that night, if only in his imagination.
He studied this particular woman as he continued forward, doubts creeping in with every step. No way this could be her. He couldn’t be that lucky twice. Besides, the woman he’d kissed had been dressed in blue satin, her hair pinned up into a fashionable style, her face carefully made up to suit the occasion, anything but nondescript.
Then the midwife looked up. Dark lashes outlined her vibrant blue eyes devoid of makeup, her fair skin a direct contrast to the dark spiraling curls framing her face. She looked as if she’d stepped right out of a soap commercial, all natural, attractive, appealing in an unpretentious way. Still, he couldn’t get past those expressive eyes that now studied him with only mild curiosity, not surprise or anything that would indicate she knew him. But he got the distinct feeling that he did, in fact, know her.
It didn’t matter, Rio decided. Tonight he had to play the professional. Tonight he was the obstetrician, and she the midwife. It sure as hell wasn’t a good time to get personal, even if it turned out that she happened to be his New Year’s temptress. Even if he did have something that belonged to her. Something he’d been carrying around for the past three days, futilely trying to find its owner. And now he was fairly sure he’d found her.
When she didn’t acknowledge him, he reached around her, slipped the metal chart from the holder and opened it to check the notes. “Are you with Mrs. Gonzales?”
“Yes, I am.”
Rio couldn’t help but react to her floral scent, her closeness, the stubborn memories of a kiss that wouldn’t get out of his head. He looked up from the chart and met her noncommittal expression. “And you are?”
“Joanna Blake. I’m with the birthing center.”
Rio took the hand she offered, noting the smooth texture and how fragile it felt in his palm. “I’m Dr. Madrid.” For some reason he was reluctant to let her go.
She pulled her hand from his grasp. “Nice to meet you.”
He studied the chart again but couldn’t quite focus. The more he looked at her, the more certain he was that this could be his unidentified angel. “Tell me about Mrs. Gonzales.”
“She came to the center and presented with excessive vaginal bleeding. She’s a gravida 2, para 1, abortus 1.”
Rio rubbed his chin. “Three pregnancies and one live birth and this one. What happened with the other pregnancy?”
“First trimester miscarriage about two years ago. This time, she’s had an uneventful gestation. No significant problems.”
“Well, it looks like she has some now.” He flipped the chart closed and held it against his chest. “Did you examine her cervix?”
She frowned. “Of course not. I think we both know that an internal examination could exacerbate her bleeding.”
Her adamant tone, the fire in her eyes, intrigued him. Excited him, even. “Just making sure.”
Frustration passed over her once-guarded expression. “Dr. Madrid, I’m trained to recognize problematic signs. That’s why I came here with her, to make sure my patient receives the best care.”
“I wasn’t questioning your judgment.”
“Yes, you were.”
Actually, he was. He’d seen his share of births go badly in nonhospital settings—one in particular. For that reason, he couldn’t seem to stop his concern over non-traditional methods, even though they were becoming readily accepted in the medical community. “Consider me overly cautious, okay? Now do we stand here in the hall and continue our conversation, or do we go see about our patient?”
For a second he thought she might smile but it didn’t quite take. “Yes. But first I think you should know that Mr. Gonzales knows only a little English and Mrs. Gonzales knows next to none. If you’d like for me to interpret—”
“I can hold my own in the Spanish department, Ms. Blake.”
A slight blush stained her porcelain cheeks. “Okay, then.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the open door. “After you, Doctor.”
He couldn’t resist rattling her chain a little. “I would say ladies first, but I’m thinking you might slug me.”
“I’m thinking you might be right.”
Finally, she smiled, and then he knew for certain. She was the woman who’d marched through his mind for the past three days. The woman who’d run away from him at midnight. His reluctant Cinderella.
Obviously he didn’t recognize her. That shouldn’t matter to Joanna, but for some reason it did. If she looked at it logically, there was no reason why he should remember. It had been dark in the ballroom, and she’d been dressed up. Still, she couldn’t ignore the little twinge of hurt.
But she had to ignore it. Mrs. Gonzales’s well-being should be first and foremost in her mind, not Rio Madrid. At least the doctor seemed genuinely concerned for the woman. He spoke in perfect Spanish, his voice gentle and compassionate as he performed the ultrasound.
While he worked, Joanna took the opportunity to study him. He looked much the same as he had that night—darkly handsome, but his suit had been replaced by a blue scrub top that covered faded jeans, and the diamond stud in his earlobe exchanged for a small gold loop. His slick dark hair was still pulled back and secured at his neck, allowing Joanna to look her fill at his face in the glare of fluorescent lights—a chiseled face with a finely honed nose, high cheekbones and a granite jaw. And oh, that mouth. She recalled his soft lips, how gentle and breathtaking that kiss had been.
Her gaze dropped to his strong hands that had pressed against her back, held her close, made her melt. He might not look like a conventional doctor, but he was one fine masterpiece of a man. Even his name sounded striking. Rio Madrid…
“Okay, that does it.”
The doctor-in-question’s declaration forced Joanna back into the situation at hand, and her thoughts back onto her patient. The fear in Mr. and Mrs. Gonzales’s faces had lessened until Dr. Madrid began to explain the findings from the ultrasound. Placenta previa, as Joanna had suspected, and now the baby would more than likely have to be delivered by cesarean.
After the doctor was done, he stood and signaled Joanna to follow him into the hallway. Once they were out of the patient’s earshot, he said, “Since she’s at term, I’ll go ahead and do a C-section.”
“Bed rest—”
“Is not an option. She’s bleeding too much—”
“Dr. Madrid—”
“We need to get that baby out of there. This is the best course—”
“But—”
“—of treatment.”
Joanna waited for a few moments to make certain he was finished with his tirade before speaking again. “Just for the record, I’m in total agreement with you.”
He frowned. “You are?”
“Yes, I am.” She was caught between wanting to shake him and kiss him. Ridiculous, at least the kissing part. “If you’d let me get a word in edgewise, then you might have realized that.”
At least he looked contrite, and much too cute. “Sorry. I’m pretty damn tired at the moment.”
“That will make one a little cranky.”
He sent her a crooked smile. “So you think I’m cranky?”
Cranky, and gorgeous. “Maybe just a little bit.”
“Could we settle for mildly out of sorts?”
Joanna couldn’t help but smile back. “I suppose we could compromise with out of sorts. As long as we drop the mildly.”
His grin deepened and he opened his mouth to speak but before he could, a harried middle-aged woman approached him. “Dr. Madrid, the Gonzaleses have no insurance. I need to make payment arrangements with them. If they can’t pay, we need to trans
fer—”
“She’s not going anywhere.” His voice brimmed with barely contained anger. “I’m going to do an emergency cesarean in about ten minutes, and her husband’s going to be with her. End of conversation.”
“But hospital policy states—”
“I don’t give a damn about policy.” He lowered his voice, his jaw clenched tight. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I don’t have time to argue. Have your supervisor call me after the surgery if there’s a problem. I’ll handle it.”
The woman walked away, shaking her head.
Joanna smiled. “Bravo, Doctor. I’m impressed.”
His grin came slowly and unexpectedly, but Joanna’s reaction was fast and hard to ignore. “The bureaucracy around here sucks.”
“I have to agree with you on that, too.” She glanced toward the cubicle. “Well, I guess I should wish the Gonzaleses luck so you can do your job.”
He rubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw. “Do you want to scrub in with me?”
Joanna was totally taken aback by the offer. “I’d love to, if it’s okay with the hospital.”
“I’m giving you my permission, and that’s good enough. Let’s get going.”
After Dr. Madrid had made appropriate arrangements, Joanna followed him to the labor and delivery unit to change. She dressed and scrubbed then found him waiting for her in the operating suite. Stopping at the head of the table, Joanna exchanged a few encouraging words with the nervous couple, then moved past the drape to join the crew at the table.
“I assume you’ve scrubbed in on one of these before,” the doctor asked, the scalpel poised in his hands.
“Plenty.”
“You’re not doing them at the center, are you?”
That might have made Joanna mad had he not said it with amusement. “Not hardly. But I have had several opportunities during my training.” More than a few in her checkered past. She’d put her career goals on hold when she’d become pregnant her second year of medical school, soon forced to settle back into the role of nurse because of finances. Then later, Adam had completely robbed her of her dreams of becoming a doctor. He had robbed her of a lot more than that.
Joanna tamped down the bite of resentment to watch the obstetrician in action. His skill was apparent with the first cut, his hands deft, his movements flawless as he worked quickly to deliver the baby. Joanna and the doctor smiled at each other in unison when the little girl released a loud cry of protest during her entry into the world outside the womb. A wonderful sound, Joanna thought. She would never get over the miracle of birth, no matter how many times she witnessed it. And from the satisfied look on Dr. Madrid’s face, she imagined he felt the same.
Joanna had done little more than observe until he held up the umbilical cord and asked, “Do you want to cut this?”
“Sure.” Joanna complied, pleased that he thought to involve her at least this much.
Before handing the baby over to the attending pediatrician, Dr. Madrid held up the infant for the new parents to see and said, “Usted tiene una niña hermosa.”
Joanna couldn’t deny that, when she turned from the table to watch the pediatrician examine the child. The baby girl was beautiful with her thick cap of black hair and her round cherub’s face. She looked plump and healthy, her coloring good.
Children were truly a blessing, and that concept made Joanna think of her own son and how much she missed him, cherished him. How much sadness had been a part of her life over the past few months without him.
“Ms. Blake, please see Mr. Gonzales to the nursery while I finish up here.”
The concern in Dr. Madrid’s voice drew Joanna’s attention from the infant. “Okay.”
As she walked to the head of the table, Joanna noticed the doctor’s dark brows drawn down with concentration, and beads of sweat dampening the front of the blue cap covering his head. She heard him give the order for several meds, and other muttered comments from the staff about too much blood.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Joanna instructed Mr. Gonzales to follow her, trying her best to alleviate his distress with a calm voice. He kissed his wife’s cheek, then stood. Once in the hallway, the pediatrician signaled the new father to come with her and they walked away behind the portable crib, leaving Joanna behind, hoping to find out what had gone wrong with Mrs. Gonzales.
Joanna removed her gloves and mask and remained outside the O.R. suite, glancing in the door’s window to try to discern the problem. She couldn’t see anything for the flurry of activity surrounding the table.
After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Dr. Madrid backed away from the table, looking relieved. He stopped for a moment and spoke to Mrs. Gonzales, then headed for the exit while the staff prepared to move the patient.
He yanked the gloves off his hands, the mask off his face and raked the cap from his head, tossing them into the refuse container. He then pushed through the double doors to join Joanna outside the room.
“Is she all right?” Joanna asked.
“She had a bleeder, but I’ve got it under control.”
“You didn’t have to do a hysterectomy, did you?”
“No. I’ve managed to save her uterus. They’ll give her a couple of units of blood. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“I’m glad. I was worried.”
“So was I.” He leveled his golden gaze on her. “Do you want to grab some coffee after I make sure Mrs. Gonzales is settled?”
That sounded like a plan, one she didn’t dare consider. “I really need to go. I have to call the center then get home. I’ll check on Mrs. Gonzales before I leave.”
His sultry smile crept in. “Not even one cup of coffee? Just ten minutes of your time?”
“Actually, I’m in a hurry.” In a big hurry to get away from those tempting topaz eyes, that drop-dead smile.
His grin deepened. “Are you always in a hurry?”
An odd question. “Most of the time I’m running on full speed. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but I’m about to give out.” He surveyed her face, his gaze zeroing in on her lips before he again locked on her eyes. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”
Oh, he could, but she wouldn’t let him. Joanna started backing down the hall while she slipped the robe away from her shoulders. “I really do need to go.”
He watched her the same way he had at the gala before she’d made her escape. The man must have excessive pheromones, she decided. Right now they were working on her in some not too unpleasant ways. Head to toe chills traveled downward and heat settled low in her belly. It would be all too easy to agree to spend more time with him. And all too risky.
“I could walk you to your car,” he said through another rogue smile.
Truth was, her car sat in her apartment lot after she’d scraped together enough money to have it towed. She didn’t have enough funds to have it fixed, though, and the darn thing still refused to run. She wished she could say the same for her sprinting pulse. “Actually, I’m into mass transit these days. I’m taking the bus home.”
“I could give you a ride.”
She had no doubt about that. “I’ll manage fine.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Guess I’ll just have my coffee alone.”
She forced herself to turn away from him. Away from all the electricity the man emitted like a live wire. She picked up her pace before she changed her mind and went back to him, probably at her own peril.
“Have a nice night, Cinderella.”
Joanna stopped dead in her tracks.
Slowly she turned only to find an empty space where he had been. Vanished, like some unearthly presence, into a netherworld.
Joanna laid a hand across her pounding heart and took in several deep breaths. One realization haunted her like a ghost.
He had recognized her.
Two
Rio sat once more in the hospital cafeteria, this time with only a cup of black coffee. He didn’t
dare waste another meal in case he was summoned back to the emergency room or to the labor and delivery floor. It was now nearing 8:00 p.m., and he still had three hours left to take calls before a resident relieved him. Regardless, he was determined to get out of there, even if it meant coming back in.
He should be tired, dead on his feet, but he wasn’t, and he had Joanna Blake to thank for that. He’d almost gone after her, waited outside the dressing room and tried again to convince her to join him.
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. Normally, he didn’t give up easily where women were concerned, but this woman was different. She sure as hell wasn’t his type, surprisingly innocent—except for that mouth of hers. A great mouth, even when she chose to use it as a weapon on him, in every respect. She was also a mom.
Withdrawing the picture from his scrub shirt pocket, Rio studied the young boy he presumed to be Joanna Blake’s son. He could be wrong, but he doubted it. The kid had the same eyes, the same dark hair, the same smile. He flipped it over again, as he’d done several times over the past few days.
Joseph Adam, age 3. My heart. Definitely something a mother would write.
Rio had seen the picture fly onto the floor New Year’s Eve when Joanna had dropped her bag on the run. But before he could shove his way through the crowd and retrieve the photo in order to return it to her, she had already flown away like a dove finally emancipated from a cage.
He should’ve given it back to her tonight, but he hadn’t. Maybe he viewed it as some connection to her. Maybe he would use it as an excuse to see her again. Maybe even tonight.
Why not? He wasn’t one to avoid risks outside his medical practice. Besides, he wanted to know more about her. Wanted to know, if he kissed her again, would he still have the same gut-level reaction? Would it go beyond a kiss? Only one way to find out.
Rio decided it would take her several minutes to dress, make a call, then another fifteen or so to check on Mrs. Gonzales. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he’d left her in the hall. If he hurried and changed into his street clothes, he might catch up to her at the bus stop.