The Italian Surgeon's Secret Baby

by Sue MacKay

  Yikes!

  Dr. Stapleton reached down and scooped up the necklace with his right hand, letting it dangle from his fingertips. He peered at it, a frown puckering his brow. “These are real.”

  She swallowed. “I—I know.”

  “This is for donation?”

  “It is. Just clearing out five years of debris.” The words tumbled out faster than she meant for them to, and the frown swung her way.

  He nodded at the rest of the boxes. “Any other valuable ‘debris’ in there?”

  “No.”

  “I think I’ll put this in my office safe for security’s sake.” He paused. “And in case you change your mind, you should probably have them appraised, if you haven’t already.”

  “I won’t change my mind.” She didn’t tell him why, but hopefully he could read the conviction in her voice.

  He opened the door to the staff lounge and waited while she put the rest of her items onto the table with the others. By now her legs were shaking. She’d hoped to leave everything there without anyone seeing her. But he was right. It was probably better to safeguard the pearls than to leave them lying around, not that she thought anyone on staff would take them. At least the hospital would benefit from her mistake.

  Speaking of mistakes, did she really want to sit in his office on a day her eyes had trailed over the muscles in his arms?

  Turning to face him, she asked, “What was it you needed to talk to me about?”

  “Let’s go into my office.”

  Ugh. There was no getting out of it. And it sounded serious. The last thing she needed right now was “serious.”

  * * *

  Garret Stapleton stretched the fingers of his left hand and winced as the act pulled tendons and ligaments that were tight from disuse. He knew better than to try to grip the lock to his safe with the twisted digits. Or a scalpel.

  Why were his thoughts heading in that direction today?

  He knew. And he’d be damned if he’d sit back and let someone else make the same mistake he did. He’d heard what had happened with Addy, even though he did his best not to listen to the rumors that floated around. He was sure there were plenty out there about him and his hand.

  The “five years of debris” comment made him think that those donations had something to do with her marriage. He shifted the long flat box so that it was under his left forearm as he quickly turned the tumbler right and then left, opening the safe. Then he took the box and slid it on top of a set of files. His files. Files that mapped out what his own errors had cost him.

  “Have a seat.”

  She skirted one of the leather chairs and folded herself into it.

  Was she thinner than when he’d first arrived in South Beach three years ago? Or maybe he was imagining things.

  “I’m not sure what this is about.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  She tipped her head, sending several locks of dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

  Maybe calling her into his office to have this conversation wasn’t such a good idea after all. But where else could he do it? Certainly not in the staff lounge.

  The thumb of his damaged hand scrubbed over his pinkie finger; he wasn’t quite sure how to approach this. But if he didn’t drop the ax and something happened... “Whenever a doctor’s name appears on a chart, it’s entered into the system. If the computer finds a disparity between assigned hours and actual hours worked, it sends up a red flag. Do you want to guess how many flags you’ve generated in the last several weeks?”

  “I’ve had a lot of free time and so I—”

  “Try again.” He softened the words with a smile. He didn’t want to come across as a game warden.

  Her chin went up and green eyes flashed. “Why are you asking those questions? If you have a problem with my work, surely that’s a matter for Human Resources.”

  “Normally I’d say you were right and shoot it up to them. But the Emergency Department is the heart of Miami’s Grace Hospital. So it’s important to me. To the entire hospital.”

  “My working a few extra hours would help that cause, I would think.”

  “Yes. One would think. But that’s not always the case.” He dropped his hand behind the desk, unwilling to use it as an example of what could happen unless he absolutely needed to. “I need you to be at your best.”

  “I haven’t been?”

  “You’ve been a huge asset to this hospital. I’m sure you know that. I don’t want one of our best doctors burning out or going elsewhere.”

  “I have no plans of going anywhere. At the moment, anyway.” Her eyes dipped to the edge of his desk before coming back up to meet his.

  She was thinking about leaving.

  “Are you having a problem on the floor? Is someone making life difficult?”

  “You mean other than you?” She flashed a grin that traveled all the way to her eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that made his insides clench. But when he didn’t smile back, her mouth went back to neutral. “No. Of course not.”

  “Why the sudden jump in hours, then?” He forced himself to concentrate on the subject at hand. There was no way she could deny that her habits had changed. He might be treading into forbidden territory, but it was his job to make sure this hospital maintained its reputation for providing stellar care.

  She hesitated. “I’m going through a personal crisis right now. I just need to work through it, and this is the best way I can think of to do that.”

  The familiar ring of those words made him tense. He’d gone through a personal crisis of his own a few years back. “Anything you care to share?”

  Her head came up, neck turning a dark shade of red. “No. Yes...” There was a long pause, as if she was struggling to figure out a way to tell him something. “I’m divorcing my husband, and things have been difficult.”

  He sat back in his chair, relief washing through him that her crisis had nothing to do with him. Not that he was happy she was getting a divorce, but the way she’d backed away from him when he’d tried to help her with those boxes had set an alarm off in his head. He’d racked his brain thinking of something he might have done to make her uneasy around him, but had come up empty.

  “A divorce.”

  Okay, so the matter-of-fact way he’d said that had probably sounded crass and unfeeling. He hadn’t meant it to. After all, he’d been through a divorce himself and had lived to tell the tale.

  “I’m not sure how my hours are a problem as long as I’m not endangering anyone.”

  He leaned forward. “Sometimes you don’t realize you are until it’s too late.”

  “Are we talking about me? Or are we talking about your hand?”

  “Excuse me?” Only then did he realize that his injured hand was resting on his desk, the almost useless fingers curled into a ball.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  She was right. She shouldn’t have. Except the reason he’d asked her to step into his office had more to do with him than it did with her, and she’d just called him on it. He lifted his hand, turning it over and studying it for a few seconds. “Actually you’re right. I did call you in because of this. You’ve heard about what happened?”

  “You know the grapevines. Not much escapes them.”

  “Ah. I imagine not. And calling you in here isn’t personal. It’s professional. I don’t want to see anyone else ruin their career by working themselves to exhaustion.”

  “I know my limits.”

  He smiled to cover the churning in his gut caused by those words. He’d thought he’d known his limits too. How wrong he’d been. “Sometimes we only think we do.”

  “Believe me, I have no desire to jeopardize something I love more than anything.”

  He hadn’t wanted to either. But once Leticia died...

 
Swallowing, he stood. “I just wanted to bring it to your attention and ask you to stick to a more sensible schedule.”

  She laughed and climbed to her feet as well, tossing those wild errant locks back over her shoulder. “I think ‘doctor’ and ‘sensible schedule’ are incompatible terms, don’t you? Are you going to write me up?”

  “Do I need to?”

  “I hope not, but that’s your prerogative. You can even fire me, if you want. I can always practice somewhere else.”

  And now he could bring up an earlier thought. “You’re already thinking of doing just that, though, aren’t you? Leaving?”

  There was a long pause. “I hope it won’t come to that. My—ex—works for the EMT company that services this area. If he makes things difficult, I might choose to move.”

  He took a step closer, gratified when she stood her ground this time. “How can I help? The hospital, that is.”

  “You can’t. It’s something I have to work through myself. I’ll either be able to face him and move on, or I won’t. Our parting was not the most amicable in the world.”

  That made him frown. “Let me know if he causes trouble.”

  “I think he’s caused all the trouble he can. The sooner the divorce goes through, the better.” Fingers fiddled with a small gold ball that clung to the delicate lobe of her right ear. Something contracted in his chest.

  She allowed her hand to drop back to her side, standing straight and tall. “I’m sure the last thing you want to hear today is someone moaning about their impending divorce.”

  He glanced back at the safe.

  Before he could even give voice to the question, she nodded. “Yes. He gave it to me. And all of those other items as well.”

  “Ah, understandable. I still think it should be appraised. I can have that done if you’d like.”

  “It’s up to you. I won’t want the necklace back no matter what its value.”

  He glanced at her hand. No rings anymore, but the indentation was still there. “I’m sorry. About your breakup.”

  “Thank you.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her pants. “Now, if there’s nothing else...”

  “No. Nothing. Just keep an eye on those hours, okay?”

  “I will. Thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

  Walking over to the door, he held it open and waited as she walked through it. “Oh, and, Dr. Santini.”

  “Call me Addy.”

  He nodded. “Addy, then. Thank you for the donations. The hospital appreciates them.”

  How was that for impersonal? Maybe he’d sounded canned and overly formal, but he didn’t like the way he was suddenly noticing little things about her.

  “I’m glad someone will be able to use them.”

  Because she wouldn’t. He shut the door and went back around his desk. Giving his damaged hand one last glance, he sat in his chair and tried to lose himself in his work. But Addy’s face—and that damned gold earring—kept circling through his thoughts. He hoped she came through her crisis unscathed. And that it wouldn’t cost her something a lot more valuable than a set of pearls.

  * * *

  Two days later a piece of mail caught her attention. It was from the hospital. Her breath stalled in her chest. She’d done her best to cut back on her hours, but knew she’d still stayed on the floor longer than she should have.

  Sliding her finger under the tab, she was surprised when a single sheet of paper fell out—a handwritten note containing only seven words:

  Two thousand dollars appraised—are you sure?

  The signature was Garret Stapleton’s. A shiver went over her as she sat and stared at his handwriting for a few seconds. Bold strokes crossed those Ts. She touched a finger to one of them, then gritted her teeth.

  She knew exactly what he was referring to. The necklace. She wasn’t shocked by the price tag. What she was surprised at was that he’d written to her personally. And at the funny twist to her stomach when she’d opened the envelope and realized who it was from.

  But at least he hadn’t called her back into his office to break the news to her. Their last meeting had made her squirm. Maybe because she’d called attention to his hand, when she hadn’t meant to. She’d gone all defensive, trying to deflect his attention to something other than her.

  He’d been right to chew her out. But he hadn’t needed to. She did know her limits. And she loved her job too much to risk driving while exhausted. Which was why she’d been known to leave her car in the parking lot and take a taxi.

  Did he call every single doctor who worked overtime into his office? She didn’t think so. Which meant he had seen some kind of warning sign.

  She’d heard that the fiery crash that damaged his hand had almost cost his life as well. That thought made her heart ache. He’d been one of the best neurosurgeons in the country. And it had all been snatched away in a split second. He’d then gone from New York City to the shores of South Beach.

  Why so far away?

  Maybe, like her, he’d felt he needed a change of scenery. A new start. Maybe she needed to do the same—like go from South Beach to New York.

  Except she was a Florida girl. Born to a family of Italian immigrants, but a true surfer girl at heart. With her dark hair, she didn’t exactly look the part, but she didn’t care. Those waves had coaxed her back to the water time and time again.

  In fact, she’d met Leo Santini during a surfing contest five years earlier, when she’d been undergoing another crisis—with her mom, this time—and had fallen in love. Looking back, she realized their quick romance had been a desperate attempt on her part to claw her way out of a dark hole, but the effort had backfired. As her mom’s condition had continued to deteriorate, their marriage had begun to change gears too. Their surfing trips had dwindled to nothing over the space of a year. She still caught an occasional wave, but Leo had turned in his board for the party scene, something she had no interest in at all. She should have seen the breakup coming. Talk about warning signs. She’d missed them all.

  But no more.

  Maybe she needed to take her board and head to the beach on Wednesday, her next day off. Then her boss wouldn’t be able to say a word about her working too many hours. And maybe it would clear her head and help her find her equilibrium again. Just the thought made her pulse pick up its pace. How long had it been since she’d paddled through the surf, looking for that one great wave?

  Too long. That was what she’d do.

  Taking a pen, she sat down and crafted her reply to Garret. And she could do it in fewer words than he had: “Very sure.” Rather than mail it, she would drop it on his desk. In person. Probably not a good idea, but it was the best way she knew to make the break from Leo definitive, not that it wasn’t already.

  Shoving the note back into its envelope, she hurried to get ready for the day. Then tonight she would drag her surfboard out of the spare bedroom and check the weather in hopes that conditions—in more ways than one—were perfect.

  Copyright © 2019 by Tina Beckett

  ISBN-13: 9781488047893

  The Italian Surgeon’s Secret Baby

  First North American Publication 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Sue MacKay

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