No Exchanges, No Returns

by Laurie Kellogg

  “Don’t sweat it.” She waved her hand. “My love life was pathetic even before I was pregnant.”

  A warm breeze ruffled his dark hair. He tipped his head and peered at her askance. “Why is that? I’ve never understood why you don’t date more. You’re funny and smart. And you’re certainly pretty enough.”

  His compliments sparked a bonfire in her cheeks. He leaned against her car and stood way too close, studying her face. She licked her lips, working up enough moisture to speak past the desert in her throat.

  Before she could say anything, he grinned and said, “I thought I knew you pretty well. You don’t by any chance swing the other way, do you?”

  “Oh, puleeze. Why do men always assume if a woman doesn’t date she must be batting for the same team? It’s as if you all see a woman’s celibacy as an insult to your virility, and you have to find some way to rationalize how she can resist you.”

  “I wasn’t rationalizing anything. It just occurred to me that might be why you don’t go out much.”

  “If you think real hard, you can answer that question yourself. Why didn’t you ask me out?”

  She cringed inwardly. Why had she said that? Now he couldn’t help but realize how much she’d wanted it to be her instead of Brianna.

  His lips tightened while he stared wordlessly at her for several seconds. “I guess because I was one of those jerks you mentioned who was too busy drooling over your sister to notice a quiet little gem like you. I figured since the invitation to your party was addressed to me and a guest—”

  “You decided I wasn’t interested in you as more than a friend,” she finished for him. “I did that because I didn’t know if you were involved with anyone.”

  In fact, her whole purpose for throwing the party had been an excuse to see him again so she wouldn’t have to be the one to ask him out.

  As she slid into the car, the heat from its scorching seat was a welcome treat to her aching back. “Anyway,” she continued, “working as a preschool teacher, most of the guys I meet sleep with either a teddy bear or a wife.”

  “Mmm. I can see how that would make it difficult to attract men. You know, I could set you up with some of the single docs at the hospital.”

  She swallowed hard and looked pointedly at her belly. “I don’t think you’d find many takers right now.” The only doctor she had any interest in dating was currently trying to pawn her off on someone else.

  “Maybe not. But in a few months....”

  She’d be a single mother with a new baby. “Right.” She released a soft cynical snort. “Then I’ll be a real man-magnet.”

  ~*~

  Slack-jawed, David stared at the rear of Casey’s beat-up compact. As the car sputtered out of the parking lot, blowing exhaust fumes back at him, her words reverberated in his head. If you think real hard, you can answer that question yourself.

  How did that old saying go? Don’t ask the question if you don’t really want to know the answer? Apparently, if he’d been any blinder a year and a half ago, he would’ve needed a seeing-eye dog.

  He’d met Casey through a patient’s mother, who, on learning her son needed surgery, asked David if he could arrange a field trip to the hospital for her child’s preschool class. Since well-informed, relaxed kids were easier to treat, he gladly told the mother to have her son’s teacher call him.

  Initially, he planned to let one of the nurses present a short lesson on staying safe and healthy, followed by a tour to give the four-year-olds an idea of what to expect if they were ever hospitalized. But after talking to Casey on the phone and laughing at all her stories involving her students’ misconceptions about the human body, he was eager to conduct the class himself.

  Unfortunately, during the kids’ tour, he opened the wrong door in the radiology department and inadvertently stumbled upon one of the interns and a half-dressed technician getting friendly. Luckily, Casey shielded the preschoolers from getting an eyeful and made enough jokes about it afterward to ease his embarrassment.

  When he received her thank you note including an invitation to her New Year’s Eve party two weeks after the field trip, he took it at face value—as a kind gesture of gratitude for his help. He never really analyzed why he decided at the last minute to attend a party where he didn’t know a soul.

  Now that he thought about it, it probably had something to do with how much he’d enjoyed Casey’s wry sense of humor. He’d figured anyone who could laugh at a situation like the one in radiology would undoubtedly have a fun group of friends.

  Was it possible he’d been more taken with her than he liked to admit?

  David spun on his heels and headed back into the white stucco medical arts building. Maybe Casey’s assumption that he’d be looking to get lucky now that he was single again hadn’t been totally unfair. If she’d sensed his interest before he accepted Brianna’s invitation to dinner, he probably had seemed like a player.

  Hell, he’d been attracted to them both. Casey had been a lot of fun. However, it had been Brianna who’d sent all the signals that she was into him. She exuded a sexy confidence any man would find irresistible. So in truth, he deserved extra points for focusing his attention strictly on Brianna. His pervert buddy, Paul, probably would’ve tried to orchestrate a kinky threesome with the twins.

  Given the situation, what red-blooded American male wouldn’t have pursued the sister who was giving him the green light?

  At the same time, Casey couldn’t be faulted for thinking that same red-blooded man might now be ready to chase anything in a skirt in an effort to affirm his sex appeal or to get back at his ex. In his case, however, he hadn’t seriously thought about sex since the day Brianna told him she was leaving. Casey would probably see it as poetic justice that his libido had taken such a major hit.

  Doc Foster, the silver-haired founder of the Redemption Family Health Center as well as The Lucy Harmon Free Clinic, stopped David in the hallway. “You look like a man with a problem.”

  David jerked his gaze from the floor to Matt’s craggy face and smiled. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”

  “Your expression suggests they aren’t very happy thoughts. Anything I can do to help?” Even though Matt was in his late sixties and would be retiring soon, he had the vitality of a much younger man.

  “Only if you have a cure for cluelessness.” David laughed.

  Matt raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “In that case, you’re looking at the wrong guy. Abby’s been trying to cure our sons’ and my cluelessness for almost forty years. She’s convinced it’s a male condition.”

  “Your wife could be right.” He slapped Matt on the back. “I guess I’ll just have to muddle through the best I can.”

  “Well, if you want to talk, you know where to find me.” Matt grabbed his arm and stopped him from leaving. “You know, Dave, you might want to consider hiring an associate. If the hospital board appoints you Chief of Pediatrics as I recommended, you’re gonna need some help this fall—especially if you plan to continue volunteering at the clinic.”

  “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought.” David waved and pulled open the door to his office.

  His nurse, Janet, blew a strand of salt and pepper hair out of her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re back. The parents are planning a revolt in the waiting room.”

  “Who’s first?”

  “Holly McKinnon in exam two.”

  “What’s wrong today?” he asked, draping his stethoscope around his neck. “Stomach ache? Sore throat?”

  “No, the problem has apparently migrated north. It’s in her head now.”

  The child’s maladies were all invariably in her head. The eleven-year-old hypochondriac had tragically lost both her parents in a recent car accident. Ever since, she’d been in his office on a weekly basis. Holly’s grandfather had assumed custody of the little girl, and his grief over losing his son less than a year after his wife’s death had simply exacerbated the child’s problems.

  Da
vid tapped on the exam room door before opening it. “Okay, Holly-berry,” he said, stepping over to the sink to wash his hands with the antibacterial soap. “What seems to be the problem today?”

  “My head hurts,” whined the pudgy redhead, holding her hand to her forehead with the exaggerated drama of a silent film star.

  “The teacher at ’er school says she’s been bellyachin’ about it all week long,” Mr. McKinnon added in his thick Scottish brogue. “I’m at me wits end.”

  David did a quick exam of the child’s eyes, ears, and throat, noting the dark shadows under her eyes and the scent of peanut butter on her breath that reminded him he’d missed lunch. “What time is she going to bed at night?”

  “Mmmm—’twould be between nine-thirty and ten.”

  “That’s a bit late for a school night at her age. She probably just needs a little more sleep. But we’ll do an eye test to rule out any problems.” He poked his head out of the door and instructed Janet to take the patient down the hall for a vision screening while he talked to the child’s grandfather.

  As soon as the little girl left, David propped one hip on the exam table and scanned Holly’s patient file on the computer. “Mr. McKinnon, your granddaughter has been in six times in the last month. I suspect she’s expressing how much she misses her mother and father in a physical way. I think you need some help getting her to talk about her feelings.”

  “Och, yer tellin’ me.” The old man held the top of his balding head. “I dunno a thing about comfortin’ a wee lass. She needs a ma who’s good at those woman things.”

  The old man had that straight. Holly showed signs of approaching puberty. Any day now, Mr. McKinnon would be scratching his receding hairline in the feminine hygiene aisle at the supermarket.

  “I think family counseling would benefit both of you.”

  “I been meetin’ with Father Donnelly every wee—”

  “Spiritual support is a good idea. But I doubt a priest understands a little girl’s needs any better than you do. Holly needs a professional.” David scribbled the name of a local psychologist on his prescription pad and tore the page off. “I also suggest you contact Big Sisters of America. It’s a volunteer organization that helps girls like Holly who have no female role model.”

  “Aye,” the old man said, folding the paper David handed him before shoving it in his shirt pocket. “I don’t s’pose even you know how hard ’tis for a man to raise a wee lassie by hisself.”

  David had an excellent idea. If by some odd twist of fate, Casey gave birth to a girl, he didn’t look forward to learning firsthand how tough it was finding a public restroom where a single dad could take his daughter to the bathroom.

  Sure, it would be a few years before that would become an issue, but he didn’t want to be pressured into remarrying simply for the sake of his child.

  Before today, he hadn’t really cared what sex his baby was. But now....

  He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. Please, God, give me a kid who can pee standing up.

  Chapter 4

  “My daddy’s is this big.” Ricky stretched his arms out like a fisherman spinning a yarn about the one that got away.

  Casey snapped her gaze to Andy herding a group of children back from the bathroom. Ricky was notorious for blabbing everything he saw or overheard to anyone who would listen.

  “Please tell me the Town Crier isn’t spouting off about what it sounds like.”

  “Sorry.” Andy turned her palms up in a helpless gesture. “No can do.” She pursed her lips in a suppressed smile while the kids scattered to the four corners of the classroom to continuing playing. “But you can bet I’ll be checking out Richard senior the next time he—”

  “Size is highly overrated,” a deep voice behind them cut Andy off. Casey spun around to discover Paul lounging in the doorway, wearing his lady-killer smirk. “It all depends on how well a guy—”

  “Uses what he has?” Andy finished for him. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.” She dropped her gaze, directing a pointed look at his fly.

  “You didn’t let me finish.” Paul sauntered into the classroom. “I was about to say that it’s all in how well a guy knows his way around a woman’s body.”

  “Uh-huh. I suppose you’re an expert,” Andy sneered.

  “Hey, Dr. Brennan,” Samantha called from the other side of the room.

  Laughter bubbled out of Casey like effervescence from a champagne bottle. “Andrea Seaver meet Dr. Paul Brennan, Sam’s and my OB/GYN.”

  “I’d say that qualifies me as an authority on the female body, wouldn’t you?” Paul fired a smug smile at Andy.

  “Maybe.” Defiance blazed in her eyes. “Except, knowing how a piece of equipment works doesn’t necessarily mean you can turn it on.”

  Glancing at her watch, Casey stepped between them before the discussion deteriorated further and blood was shed. “You’re early.”

  “My last patient of the day canceled,” Paul explained. “I figured I could start moving the smaller stuff. When I left the office, Dave’s waiting room was jammed.”

  “What a prince you are.” Andy flashed a saccharine smile at him and wandered to the other side of the room to help Samantha motivate the children to clean up.

  Paul’s gaze trained on Andy’s bottom for several seconds before he turned back to Casey and sighed. “I guess I didn’t make a very good impression.”

  “Don’t take it personally.”

  “How should I take it? Believe me, I know when a woman’s given me the brush-off.”

  “You don’t understand.” Casey gave his arm a compassionate squeeze. “Andy recently discovered her fiancé slept with several of his clients.”

  “That’s all?” Paul snickered. “Wasn’t she worried about what else they were doing?”

  Casey shoved his shoulder. “All I’m saying is cut her a little slack. At the moment, men are on Andy’s to-be-avoided list.”

  Paul’s heavy-lidded gaze slowly swept over Casey’s friend. “It’s a pity. I could go for her in a big way.”

  Along with half the fathers of her preschoolers.

  Not a day went by that Casey didn’t catch one of the dads drooling over her teaching assistant. Having so many married men constantly flirting with Andy only supported her theory that all men were unfaithful, cheating scum.

  Casey arched her back, wishing she had five minutes to sit down. Her feet were like a couple of soggy sponges. If she ached and felt this swollen at only five months, she dreaded how she would feel further along in her pregnancy.

  Paul frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Just a little tired.” She rubbed her hands together. “So, let’s get started.”

  “Okay. But you need to sit and give directions.” Paul slid his arm around her shoulder, and a conspiratorial gleam sparkled in his green eyes before he glanced back at Andy. “In exchange, you’re gonna cook dinner for me some evening, right?”

  “Just pick a night and tell me what you’d like.”

  “No, you choose the time and menu.” He smiled at her and winked. “I’ll make up the guest list.”

  ~*~

  The door squealed as Marcus Huntley’s nurse ushered his four-thirty patient into his Mayo Clinic office. “Have a seat, Mrs. Lambert,” he murmured without glancing up from the medical records Jack Hudson had sent from the University of Pennsylvania Hospital. “I’ll be with you in just a minute.”

  “It’s Ms. McIntyre now. I’ve taken back my maiden name since my divorce. But, please, call me Brianna.”

  Nodding his acknowledgement, Marc wrote her new last name on her paperwork and continued reviewing her records. When he finally raised his gaze to the gorgeous blonde seated in front of his desk, his jaw dropped for a split second. What kind of lunatic would divorce such a knockout?

  His stomach sunk as he admired the thick mermaid waves cascading to her waist. Damn it. It was so much easier to tell a man he’d soon be bald.

  “As Dr. Hudson
no doubt told you, we’ll start your treatment with a craniotomy to remove the tumor. It isn’t deep, so, barring any major complications, your hospital stay should only be about a week to ten days.”

  “I thought it would be longer.”

  “No. Technology has made brain surgery much less invasive than years ago. Your recovery from the procedure will be easier than the chemo and radiation.”

  “So by having the operation first, I won’t have to wait for my hair to fall out by the handfuls, huh?” Her mouth curved in a humorless smile.

  “Actually, you will. We only have to shave a small patch for the incision.”

  “Great.” She chuckled without a trace of humor. “I’m a sales rep for Lovely Lady beauty products. Maybe if I get a Mohawk, I can start a new fashion craze for women.”

  He smiled at her attempt at levity. Patients who kept an upbeat attitude always fared better. “Not everyone goes bald. Still, I suggest having your hair cut really short now. Losing it while it’s still long makes it seem worse.”

  She grabbed a hank of her lustrous mane and held it up. “At least I have plenty to have a wig made.”

  Marc flipped to the intake questionnaire. “I don’t see any family contact information. Who’s going to be with you through—”

  “No one.” She gnawed on her lower lip. “I’m alone.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Her husband had to be a real bastard to divorce her at a time like this. “Isn’t there anyone who—”

  “I don’t want my family to know about my illness.”

  She’d already convinced the receptionist at the Minnesota field office to cover for her and forward any calls to her cell phone if her family tried to contact her at Lovely Lady in Minneapolis.

  “It’s why I delayed the surgery until my divorce was final.”

  “Not a smart choice, if you ask me.”

  “I know. But I figured another month or so wouldn’t radically change my odds.”

  “Don’t count on that.” He held up her medical file. “So, if you’ve been keeping your family in the dark, how’d you have the preliminary tests without them catching on?”