His Baby Bombshell

by Jessica Matthews

  "I may have to stay here unnecessarily, but I'll do it in my own clothes," he stated regally.

  "And how do you propose they get here?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "Need you ask?"

  She held up her hands to object, but he didn't give her the opportunity.

  "You landed me in these spacious accommodations with your wicked slice," he reminded her. "In my books, that's a debt you have to pay."

  "If every other patient can wear the stylish apparel we so thoughtfully provide, so can you. And if you're worried about your hiney showing, stay in bed."

  "Hiney? My, my," he said dryly, "your professional vocabulary is amazing."

  "That's what continuing education is for."

  "Whatever you call my hiney, buns, or posterior, there's the matter of you being responsible for my VIP care. As a VIP, I want my own shorts and T-shirt, not a flimsy, see-through, doesn't-close-in-the-back hospital gown."

  No question about it—the "I" definitely meant irritating.

  "But you don't sleep in anything except your boxers," she blurted out.

  "At home, I don't. Does this…" he waved his arms in an all-encompassing motion "…even remotely look like home?"

  Sensing the futility in arguing—apparently he'd decided that if cajolery wouldn't get what he wanted, arrogance and his rank would—she heaved a sigh. "OK, fine. I presume you also want a change of clothes for tomorrow and your toothbrush?"

  "Yeah. Don't forget my electric razor either." He dug in his trouser pocket and tossed a keyring at her before he sank gingerly into the bed. "Thanks. I'd be grateful if you'd bring them within the hour."

  She caught it in mid-air, irritated by his demand. She couldn't possibly meet his hour deadline even if she'd wanted to because she was due to pick up Jeremy from the hospital's day care. Chafing under his order, she chose not to warn him she'd be late. Better to ask forgiveness after the fact than to beg permission beforehand.

  "I'd also like a pizza," he informed her.

  "Our cafeteria has good food. The patients all agree."

  He eyed her loftily. "If I can't sleep in a real bed, then I want to eat real food. Sausage, Canadian bacon and mushrooms."

  She ground her teeth. "Pizza it is. Anything else for our most illustrious personage?"

  With that detail apparently settled to his satisfaction and apparently not put off by her disrespect, he closed his eyes. "No, but if I think of something, I'll call you. You do still have a cellphone?"

  "Yes, I do. Who doesn't these days?"

  "I'd like the number, please."

  She didn't want to give it to him, but she really didn't have a choice. A notepad wasn't in sight and she didn't have a pen, so she recited the seven digits from memory.

  He listened intently before satisfaction showed on his face. "Same as before."

  His comment caught her off-guard. "I'm surprised you remember."

  "I remember a lot of things."

  "I'm happy for you," she said tartly, but a new set of questions suddenly popped into her head. If he'd wanted her out of his life so badly, why had he remembered her number? Knowing that he'd never acted on the information at his fingertips only made the intervening months of silence more painful to think about.

  The sudden pressure in her chest demanded she escape before he saw this new hurt he'd caused without even trying. Immediately, she pivoted on one foot and headed for the door.

  "Sabrina?" he called.

  Reluctantly, she paused. "Yeah?" Sounding hoarse, she hoped he'd attribute it to grumpiness.

  "For what it's worth, it's good to see you again."

  She'd spent the last year shoring up her defenses against his anger and rejection, but had built nothing to protect herself against unexpected kindness. Not trusting herself to speak over the sudden lump in her throat, she simply fled.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "YOUR father isn't playing fair," Sabrina railed aloud as she drove to Adrian's home-away-from-home while Jeremy fussed in his car seat. "After being such a jerk, he has no right to suddenly act like a decent human being."

  Jeremy chewed on his little fist and grunted as he kicked his legs and squirmed.

  "I don't know what he's up to, but I'm not falling for it," she mumbled as she parked in front of the apartment complex next to Adrian's recognizable black Toyota Avalon. Apparently John Mosby had served as Adrian's taxi service and given him a ride to the golf course. "I don't care if he had a change of heart. It's too late. Too late, I tell you.

  "And frankly," she continued her rant, "I'm glad my ball hit him on the head. He deserves some pain and suffering for everything he's put me through!"

  Buoyed by her thoughts, she lifted Jeremy out of his car seat, hoisted him on one hip, and headed up the sidewalk. "Come on, little man. Let's get this nasty old errand done so we can go home and play."

  Carefully, she inserted the key and stepped inside.

  The place reminded her of a hotel room, but Adrian had only arrived that weekend. He hadn't had time to stamp his presence on the hospital's apartment. Certain she'd find personal articles in the bathroom, she headed there first.

  His toiletries lay on the counter, but she hardly noticed because the familiar scent of his favorite brand of soap hung in the air.

  "What do you want for your birthday?" she asked as she cuddled against him on her sofa. "It's coming up, you know."

  "I have everything I need right here." Adrian nuzzled her neck.

  She giggled as he focused on a particularly ticklish spot. "I'm serious. There has to be something you'd like or need."

  "Soap. Bath soap, in particular."

  Sabrina pulled away to study his face. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

  He shook his head. "Nope. My sisters usually shop for me and they're always buying the girly, flowery-smelling stuff."

  "Ask them to choose a different scent."

  "And hurt their feelings when they're trying so hard to be helpful?" He sounded horrified. "No can do. But if someone should happen to give me a case or two and I rave about how good it smells, they'll get the hint."

  "You're quite a mastermind, aren't you?" she teased.

  "I raised a younger brother and two sisters," he said matter-of-factly. "It was the only way I could stay one step ahead of them."

  And so Sabrina had bought a dozen bars of sandalwood-scented soap which, surprisingly enough, he still used. After he'd dismissed her from his life, she would have expected him to toss out all reminders of her, including the soap, but perhaps he'd forgotten she'd gotten him hooked on it in the first place.

  Idly, she grabbed his razor and his toothbrush and headed toward the bedroom. As Jeremy reached for the things in her hand and grunted his give-me noise, she allowed him to clutch the fluorescent blue toothbrush in his fierce, baby grip.

  Adrian's suitcase lay open on the queen-sized bed, still containing the clothing he hadn't taken time to unpack. As she rummaged through the contents one-handed in search of underwear, socks, and the athletic apparel he'd requested, it was as if his fragrance had followed her, evoking more bitter-sweet memories—memories of soaping his back in the tub because he'd won their round of golf, celebrating her pay raise with champagne and strawberries, watching TV in his bed while feeding each other popcorn.

  "You can't go back," she scolded herself. "You've moved forward, remember?"

  Pushing those memories aside along with the pile of clothes she planned to deliver, she grabbed a pair of dress slacks and a short-sleeved pale green shirt from the closet, as well as his highly polished dress shoes.

  He'd always polished them while he watched the evening news, she recalled, just as his father had taught him and just as he'd taught his brother Clay.

  The question was, who would teach his son?

  She glanced down at the bouncing twenty-pound joy of her life. "Sorry, kid, but spit-shining shoes wasn't part of my education. It'll be sneakers for us."

  He waved the toothbrush and chortled, scraping
her face with the brush end before accidentally running it through his hair like a comb.

  "Be careful with that, young man," she said, smoothing down the light brown wisps on his scalp as he stuck the smooth end into his mouth.

  She placed him on the floor with his temporary toy and her set of keys while she went in search of a bag to hold Adrian's clothes. Coming up empty, she returned to the bedroom, dumped the rest of his clothes on the bed and refilled the suitcase with the things she'd selected. But when she took Adrian's toothbrush away from Jeremy, he screamed. She closed her ears to his vocal protests until she noticed several distinct tooth marks on the handle.

  Great. As observant as Adrian was, he'd see the ridges and wonder how they'd gotten there. Unable to dream up a plausible explanation—it was too bad he didn't own a dog she could blame for the marks—she simply had to purchase a new one, even if it meant fighting the crowds at a store with a baby who didn't handle shopping trips very well.

  By the time she had loaded Adrian's suitcase and her son into the car, Jeremy was yelling for his dinner. Adrian's specified hour was nearly over, but he'd have to wait a bit longer, she decided grimly. Jeremy's needs were more important than Adrian's comforts.

  Two hours later, after dinner and an unscheduled bath to wash the strained peas out of Jeremy's hair and after she'd ordered Adrian's pizza and ran into a drug store to select a bright purple toothbrush from the hundreds on display, she pulled into the hospital parking lot. With any luck, Adrian had either slept the entire time or had gotten so engrossed in television that he hadn't noticed she was late. If he had, though, too bad. Impressing him with her efficiency and dancing to his tune weren't on her list of things to do.

  Balancing a well-fed and now-happy Jeremy on her hip, she went inside.

  * * *

  Sabrina was late. By nearly two hours. Adrian had dozed off and on during the three hours she'd been gone, but with all the staff fluttering around him, checking his vitals, quizzing him on what day it was, did he know his birth date, how his headache and nausea was, he hadn't been able to rest for more than fifteen minutes at a time.

  He grumbled aloud at how he could look forward to this well-meant but unwanted solicitous care for the remainder of the night as he pressed an ice pack to his head. The situation was enough to make a congenial man grumpy, and for the past several months he hadn't been known for his congeniality.

  Oh, he may as well be honest. His good humor had disappeared about the time he'd driven Sabrina away a year ago. Most people had attributed his curtness to his concern over Clay, but as time had marched on and Clay's condition had improved, Adrian's mood had not. In fact, it had worsened.

  His siblings had compared their amateur psychology notes and had decided he needed a woman in his life to smooth his rough edges. However, after one date, he'd realized he'd spent the entire evening quietly comparing her to Sabrina. He'd suspected the poor girl had known it, too. Because no other female had interested him, his dating days had ended as abruptly as they'd begun.

  Their next theory was that subconsciously he was expressing his latent anger and frustration over his broken relationship with Sabrina. That he was still mourning his loss and taking out his emotional distress on his hapless colleagues and staff members. Their answer? To get him back together with Sabrina.

  Naturally, he disagreed. He was simply working too hard and doing too much. As for the ER staff, the skills of the people being hired simply weren't up to the hospital's formerly high standards.

  As for his relationship with Sabrina, he believed he'd taken the high moral ground by ending it when he had. Clay needed his attention and he didn't feel it was fair to expect Sabrina to put her life on hold or be relegated to the fringes of whatever life he was free to give her. For all he knew, Clay would never leave his wheelchair and would require years of intensive therapy and personal attention from experts as well as his family.

  Fortunately, his fears never panned out. While he was glad Clay's health problems hadn't turned into the worst-case scenario, as his doctors had warned, Adrian couldn't undo the past. He simply had to console himself with the knowledge that he'd made the best decision based on the information he had at the time and live with the consequences.

  For him, those consequences turned him from being 'that nice Dr McReynolds' to a physician who caught nurses drawing straws in the employee lounge to see who would work with him. Even Clay's slow but steady recovery didn't improved his mood. Only one thing would—apologizing to Sabrina—but pride wouldn't allow him to take that step. What was done was done. End of story.

  But it wasn't the end because his boss intervened.

  "We've cut you enough slack, Adrian," Carter had told him bluntly on Friday afternoon. "I've talked to you about your attitude and you've attended several human resource seminars on interpersonal relationships, but nothing seems to be working. I don't know why you can't pull yourself together, but I'm giving you your last chance."

  "Which is?"

  "Our sister hospital in Pinehaven needs a temporary ER physician and we've been asked to provide one. I'm sending you."

  "Pinehaven?" The name of the town caught him by surprise and Adrian shook his head. "I can't go there."

  Carter crossed his arms. His jaw was squared as he narrowed his eyes to study him. "Why not?"

  "Because…" He drew a bracing breath. "Because my ex-girlfriend works there. Our parting didn't…go well." What an understatement! He'd been rude and obnoxious to make his point and he wouldn't be surprised if she threw a bedpan at him.

  At first Carter didn't reply. Then he straightened in his chair and fixed his gaze on Adrian's. "Then this will be a good time for you to work out your differences, won't it?"

  He initially balked at the Pinehaven assignment, but then he realized it was exactly what he needed. First, he'd swallow his pride and apologize for his former rudeness and salvage enough of their relationship so they could work in the same facility without coming to blows. Maybe, if all went well and the fates were kind, they would at least become the friends they had once been instead of remaining the bitter enemies they were now.

  Secondly, as soon as he saw proof that her life was every bit as wonderful as she deserved it to be, he could finally rest knowing that he'd made the right decision. His worries and wondering would be over and he could return to Mercy Memorial emotionally whole, no longer venting his frustration on the people around him.

  So far, his plan was stuck at square one. For supposedly being his liaison, she avoided him as much as possible and when she couldn't, she talked to him as eagerly as she'd participate in a rattlesnake round-up! As much as he hated having this bump on his head, his injury had paved the way for Sabrina to be his captive audience this evening. Courtesy of a talkative nurse, he'd learned Sabrina was scheduled to cover the ED this next month, which made negotiating a truce even more critical for both their sakes. Sabrina's, because she hated being a subject on the hospital grapevine and his, because if he went back to Mercy Memorial in disgrace, he'd be hunting for a new job.

  Impatient and bored, he glanced at the clock once again as he tossed the ice pack onto the bedside table. Just when he began to worry about her being delayed by something horrible like a car accident, she rushed in.

  "Sorry I'm late," she said, hoisting his suitcase onto a chair. "The last few hours have been absolutely crazy."

  He eyed her carefully, relieved to see her. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was tousled, as if someone had run his hands through those soft tresses and she hadn't taken time to find a comb. She still wore the same yellow Bermuda shorts and polo shirt he'd seen earlier. And her face looked strained, as if she'd been running at full speed all day. Or, at least, since he'd seen her last.

  For an instant, he felt guilty for asking her to fetch his personal things, but if he wanted to establish their personal ceasefire, he had to take advantage of whatever opportunities came his way.

  Heaven help him, but after regaining his wi
ts and seeing the wariness in her eyes, as if she expected him to act as boorishly as he had before, he wanted to redeem himself.

  "I wish I could say the same," he remarked. "The only crazy thing I can claim is being stuck in this hospital bed for no good reason."

  "How's the head?"

  He didn't want to discuss his aches and pains. "Getting better as we speak," he prevaricated. "Did you have any trouble finding my stuff?"

  "No, but I had a slight problem with your toothbrush and had to buy another. It's the same brand as the one you had, just a different color."

  He raised an eyebrow, unable to imagine anyone having a problem with a toothbrush. It wasn't a normally breakable item. "What happened?"

  She avoided his gaze. "Long, boring story. Not worth mentioning."

  "Dropped it in the toilet bowl, then had second thoughts?"

  "If I had, trust me when I say I wouldn't have bothered to replace it," she said tartly.

  He grinned. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of her simmering temper, which meant she was probably keeping her full fury in check because of the bump she'd given him. There weren't any thrills in kicking a man when he was already down, so he was more than content to play the injured soul until she'd vented a portion of her pent-up anger.

  "So what happened?"

  "What's with the third degree?" she asked, clearly exasperated. "It wasn't a priceless Ming vase, Adrian. It was a cheap toothbrush that you would have replaced in a few months anyway. You should be grateful I went out of my way to buy you a new one. I didn't have to, you know."

  "I'm grateful. Really. It's just that I never knew you to be accident-prone."

  Her face colored. "Yeah, well, life happens. Today just hasn't been my day. In more ways than one," she finished darkly.

  He glanced around. "So where's my food?"

  "I didn't order it in time to pick up before I came. They should deliver it before long."

  "Good. I'm starved."

  A baby giggled in the background, sounding as if it was right outside his room. "I didn't realize you admitted babies to this wing," he mentioned.