The Surgeon's Secret Baby

by Christopher, Ann

  “Ah,” Jalen said, clearly thinking hard and deciding to be honest. “I’m going to work on that. Sir.”

  The Admiral nodded with satisfaction. “You do that. And when you’ve whipped yourself into shape, I’m going to take you out for the day. Down to the shipyards. You can see one of the decommissioned battleships. Would you like that, son?”

  “Yeah!” Jalen breathed. “Cool!”

  “Cool, what?”

  “Cool, sir!”

  The Admiral turned to Thomas. “This is a fine boy. We’ll have no problems getting him into Annapolis.”

  Annapolis?

  Was the Admiral already scheming to get Jalen into the naval academy?

  “Ah, Admiral,” Thomas began.

  But the Admiral was now grinning at Jalen and pointed to the LEGO set on the bed. “Star Trek, eh? Kirk or Jean-Luc Picard?”

  “Kirk, sir,” Jalen said solemnly.

  “Excellent.” To Lia’s astonishment, the Admiral raised his right hand and gave Jalen the Vulcan salute. “Live Long and Prosper.”

  Jalen beamed and repeated the gesture. “Live Long and Prosper, sir.”

  “How’re we doing in here?” Without waiting for an answer to his cursory knock, Thomas strode later that night into Jalen’s darkened hospital room, which was lit only by the flickering TV and a small floor lamp in the corner. Lia noticed he looked everywhere—at the sleeping boy, his IV, the various machines and monitors, the dirty dinner tray waiting for removal and the heavy metal patient chart sitting on the nightstand. He looked at everything but her as she sat in her chair by the bed and flipped through a magazine. “How’d he eat?”

  “Very well,” she said.

  Still not looking at her, he reached for the chart and flipped it open, checking the boy’s latest test results and vital signs.

  “Good. How long’s he been asleep?”

  Bemused, she checked her watch. “Ten minutes or so. I think he hit a wall and just crashed.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I thought you were going home to rest,” she reminded him. “Because you’re, you know, recovering from having a kidney removed. Remember that? Why are you still here acting like a doctor? Didn’t you say your goodbyes a little while ago?”

  “I am a doctor,” he said mildly. He glanced at their sleeping son, who was snuggled under his blue fleece blanket, snoring, with a growing stream of saliva trickling from one corner of his open mouth, and then flipped to another page in the chart. “I just wanted to check on him again.”

  “I’m so glad.” The heavy sarcasm earned her a warning shot from his flashing brown eyes. “The twenty other doctors who looked in on him today all seemed like quacks.”

  Flipping the chart closed again, Thomas apparently decided not to dignify this comment. “His kidney function looks great. I’m really pleased about that.”

  What the hell was going on here? Why was Thomas acting so weird?

  Oh, okay. She suddenly got it. Even though he wasn’t officially on duty right now and wasn’t wearing his white coat with the stethoscope slung around his neck, Thomas was wearing his doctor persona with all the accoutrements, including that brusque tone and crisp voice. Or maybe he was hiding behind it. Yeah, that was it. This was apparently what came of interactions between Thomas and the Admiral. Thomas reverted to the aloof professional who could handle anything and was fazed by nothing, probably to hide his lingering hurt feelings and childhood pain.

  It was a classic defense mechanism if ever she’d seen one. It would’ve worked beautifully if she weren’t getting to know him so well. But she was getting to know him, and seeing him upset wasn’t cool with her. Not at all.

  “Why, thank you for that assessment, Dr. Bradshaw,” she murmured. “I’m assuming you’ll send us your bill? You take insurance, right?”

  That got him. He’d been adjusting the pump attached to Jalen’s IV, but now his head whipped around, and there was no mistaking the tight lines of his lips for anything other than annoyance.

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Right. That’s why I can see your temple throbbing from here.”

  Even in the dim light, she could see his face redden with anger. Or maybe it was garden-variety embarrassment. “I don’t need a shrink,” he informed her. “Thanks for applying, though.”

  “You’re so predictable. Of course the great and powerful Dr. Bradshaw doesn’t need a shrink, because the great and powerful Dr. Bradshaw—”

  “Knock it off.”

  “—doesn’t have any weaknesses, does he? We established that earlier, didn’t we?”

  He snorted, looking to the ceiling as though he hoped divine intervention would save him from her interrogation. “Is there a point to this?”

  “You have friends, don’t you? People who can put up with your bravado for long periods of time and maybe talk to you every now and then? Well, why don’t you treat me like a friend? Maybe we could have a conversation where you tell me what’s on your mind. Wouldn’t that be great? Think of the possibilities.”

  He hesitated, clearly torn between accepting her offer and booting her on her ass.

  Sensing weakness, she continued. “I’ll start. Your father is quite the character.”

  He stared at her, his face stony. “You have no idea.”

  “You’re right. So why don’t you tell me?”

  He clammed up tight and shook his head.

  “You’re a tough nut to crack, aren’t you? Well, let’s see. I’m guessing the Admiral never missed a birthday party or a game, tucked you in bed with a story and hot chocolate every night and smothered you with hugs and kisses whenever he got the chance. Am I right?”

  One corner of Thomas’s mouth eased up in a fraction of a smile. “Funny.”

  “Really?” She popped her mouth open in an O, miming surprise. “Don’t tell me he sucked as a father. No way!”

  “He did.”

  “You still love him, though. Don’t tell me you don’t.”

  “What can I say? I’m stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. And you can see that he’s trying, right?”

  “I didn’t spit in his eye and kick him out earlier, did I?”

  “You did not. For which I think you deserve a medal.”

  “Damn right I do.”

  They stared at each other for a beat or two, smiling with their eyes if not their mouths, and Lia felt his mood lighten as dramatically as if a cloud had drifted away from the sun. The corresponding lightness in her chest—it almost felt like happiness—was crazy but undeniable.

  “You’re a pain in the ass, Special Agent,” Thomas said.

  “I try, Doctor.”

  “So this is what friends do, eh?” he wondered. “Pick at scabs and stare at what’s underneath?”

  “Friends try to help each other, yes.”

  Something unidentifiable changed between them; she felt the heat and flow of it even before she heard the new hitch in his voice. “You do help me. More than you know.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  Thomas glanced again at Jalen, who was still snoring, still drooling. Then he turned back to Lia. “Do friends take friends for gelato?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Good.” By unspoken signal, they reached for each other, linking hands, and he tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 10

  “I’m not so sure this is a good idea,” Lia said.

  Ah, yes. He’d known this was coming, hadn’t he? He and Lia had gotten too close for her comfort in the last several days, and walking to a restaurant while holding hands was too much like a true date for her liking. Now that the immediate medical crisis had been managed, it was time for her to throw a few roadblocks his way.

  Poor thing. She had no idea what she was up against or ho
w many hoops he was willing to jump through if she was the prize. His determination knew no bounds.

  “What’s not a good idea?” Thomas worked hard on looking innocent and nonthreatening. “Breathing fresh air? Walking? Holding hands? Getting gelato?”

  “I was talking about leaving the hospital. But now that you mention it, holding hands isn’t that bright, either.”

  Just in case she had any plans to pull free, he wove their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was silky, her grip strong, and he wasn’t letting go yet. Period.

  “And don’t get me started on that whole joint nap thing. You caught me at a weak moment. You know that, right?”

  “Clearly,” he said sourly. “Physical contact with you is never that easy.”

  As he’d expected, the punishment for this snippet of honesty was the swift snatching away of her hand so she could cross both arms over her chest. Unperturbed, he reached for that hand, pulled it free and held it again.

  She didn’t resist. Much.

  “Jalen’s asleep for the night,” he assured her, “and I’ll have you back in an hour or so, in case he needs you.”

  This didn’t mollify her. “You should be asleep for the night, too. Not traipsing down the street with me.”

  Yeah, she had a point there. His energy was definitely on the downswing, and his incision was starting to twinge a little. Well, a lot. But he didn’t do the recovering-patient thing very well and wasn’t one for lying around. So he changed the subject.

  “I want to talk about that nap thing,” he told her. “Felt good, didn’t it?”

  “No comment.”

  They’d been meandering down the sidewalk, headed for a bistro on the corner where they served drinks and gelato, and enjoying the crisp fall air, but now he stopped to face her, oblivious to any passersby. Though the light breeze was causing her hair to flutter across her face, he could see enough of her cheeks to know that they were flushed. Her brown eyes, meanwhile, had begun to smolder with an emotion that he planned to explore, if they ever got the opportunity.

  “Careful, Special Agent,” he murmured. “You’ve already admitted you like me.”

  “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what we think we’re doing here—”

  Wow. Okay. Yeah.

  Something snapped inside his head, probably his frustration at being right back at square one with her after the pleasure of sleeping with her supple body in his arms. He was so sick of her sidestepping and denials. Wasn’t she?

  Moving quickly, determined to prove his point, he did the thing he always wanted to do. He took her face between his hands and savored the feel of her. Then he leaned in and tasted those lips, which, after an initial hesitation, were yielding, tender and as eager as his.

  Heat curled in his belly, and a wave of lust rocked him, so primitive he half expected to open his eyes and see a dinosaur wander by.

  But now was not the time.

  Shuddering with the effort, he let her go and eased back enough to see the blazing heat in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks.

  “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said flatly, as irritated as he was aroused. He was gratified to see that she had the decency to lower her eyes, which was her way of conceding the point. “But speaking of wishing, I wish you’d stop sending me mixed messages. You’re hot, you’re cold, you look at me the way I’m looking at you, and I’m—what? Supposed to pretend I don’t see it?”

  “I don’t want the complication of a man in my life now.”

  “You want me, though.”

  “You could have any woman you wanted. I’m sure you have had any woman you wanted. Why don’t you pick one of these passing groupies who keep eyeballing you, Doctor? You’ll forget about me by morning, as I’m sure you usually do with the women you sleep with.”

  He squeezed his eyes closed and scrunched up his face, overcome with a sudden and flaming discomfort because, much as he wished he could deny this accusation, it was true, and he’d earned it. Women noticed him; even now, he was aware of appreciative female gazes on all sides as people passed them on the sidewalk. He noticed women noticing him. Normally, he reveled in women noticing him.

  But now, suddenly, it all seemed so…meaningless at best, ridiculous at worst. As though he’d spent the first half of his life as a strutting peacock and been too arrogant to even realize it.

  Nice.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Lia wondered.

  He couldn’t answer. He was too busy framing his defense.

  They walked the last few feet to the hostess station at the bistro. Soon, they were seated at a little wrought-iron outdoor table under a market umbrella, looking at menus.

  “So, why the silence?” Lia asked coolly, perusing the flavor choices.

  He put his menu down and struggled, determined to be honest even though the right words danced just out of his reach.

  “Women notice me. I like women. Win-win for everybody, right?”

  “So what’s the problem? Why not keep doing what makes you happy?”

  Being near you makes me happy, he wanted to say, but couldn’t manage it, especially with her indifferent attitude tonight. She had him seriously off-kilter, this one did. As if she wouldn’t break stride if a sinkhole opened under his chair and sucked him into the center of the earth. He, meanwhile, was having increasing difficulty getting through ten minutes without her.

  “I always was happy,” he said, dialing back some of his annoyance.

  “Until what?”

  Ah, the hell with it.

  “Until I saw you.”

  “So I make you unhappy? Is that it?”

  “You make me want more.”

  Their unsmiling gazes connected and held, as strong and unbreakable as steel cable. Meanwhile, that dangerous chemical reaction happened between them again, sweeping all the air out of the vicinity.

  “There you go again,” she said softly.

  Man. He couldn’t even breathe, much less speak. “What?”

  “Looking at me like that.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said helplessly. “I want you.”

  “For now.”

  “No.” The flat denial was right there, surprising him with its vehemence.

  “Pretty words are easy, Doctor.”

  “You’ll see that I’m telling the truth soon enough.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Because of Jalen.”

  “No,” he said again. “Even if there was no Jalen, I’d still be right here. With you. I’d already made up my mind to find you again before you burst into my office.”

  Startled, Lia flushed and looked away.

  “Hello!” The bright-eyed server, probably a college student, swooped in, pouring water into their empty glasses. “How’re you folks doing? Can I start you out with a drink?”

  Thomas glared up at her. Did they not train these people to notice whether an important conversation was going on before they interrupted? “We’re going to need a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” she chirped. “Just so you know, the margaritas are still half off for another fifteen minutes.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her a tight smile.

  Looking mildly affronted but still way too happy, the server left, and Thomas tried to steer the conversation back into safer waters. Like maybe somewhere that wasn’t so close to him spilling every single gut reaction he had to this woman before they’d even placed their order.

  “What about you?”

  She raised her brows. “What about me?”

  A possessive streak chose that exact moment to raise its head and wave hello. He didn’t like it; it was like a lead cannonball settling into his chest. “Don’t you get lonely? Don’t you want someone in your life?”

  “I already told you. I’m perfectly happy without all the hassle. Who needs a man?”

  Yeah, okay.


  He needed a second to regroup.

  So that’s what he was to her—a hassle? What did he have to do or say to gain some traction with Lia? Why wouldn’t she give him the slightest opening? That cannonball in his chest, meantime, didn’t feel like it was easing back any, and he was beginning to have the unbalanced sensation of trying to run on a greased log without landing his ass in the water.

  “What the hell does that mean?” he barked.

  Ah, damn. She was back to studying the menu, like the freaking gelato was more important than this conversation. Would it be rude if he snatched the thing out of her hands and threw it to the ground?

  “It means that all I have time for is BOB.”

  “Bob?” he echoed, nearly choking on the name.

  That crisp brown gaze flicked up at him before returning to the menu. “My battery-operated boyfriend. Oooh, pistachio!”

  What did she just say?

  Screw manners. He snatched the menu, ignoring her surprised gasp, and put it on his lap so he could have her full attention and they could bring this conversation to a satisfactory conclusion, whatever that may be. Assuming, of course, that his brain ever rebooted. “Battery-operated boyfriend?”

  She blinked at him, all bewildered innocence. “What else should I do?”

  What, indeed?

  While it was reassuring to know that the mother of his young and impressionable son didn’t have a revolving door on her bedroom, he felt more agitated and unsettled than ever. Unbidden images of Lia crept into his mind, sprawled out on some comfy lounge chair, and settled in for a nice, long stay.

  Lia alone and naked, writhing in her bed.

  Lia with her eyes closed, arching, her nipples pointed toward the ceiling and her hand moving between her thighs.

  Lia making herself moan.

  Feeling hot and unbearably aroused, he reached for his water and gulped it down, spilling a few drops on his chin, which he swiped with a napkin. Then he drank again until the glass was empty.

  She waited, unruffled.

  “Are you trying to make my head explode?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Because you have to know that you’ve just handed me the biggest challenge of my life.” Frustration made him scrub his hands over his scalp, and if he’d been thinking straight, he would’ve taken the opportunity to shut the hell up. But that was the thing about being with Lia: he couldn’t think straight. The confessions, therefore, kept right on coming. “It’s already eating my guts out to know that we have a child together, and I’ve never even had the pleasure of being inside you.”