Diagnosis: Expecting Boss's Baby

“Good idea, although the cheese should be served on the side, since not everyone can eat it. Also, the Italian dressing ought to be made with olive oil, instead of soybean oil. It’s better for your heart.” Patrick made a note on his Palm organizer.

How could the man sit opposite her and remain so blind to her state of mind? Natalie wondered. But then, after working for him for five years, she knew how single-minded Patrick was. Time for a little gentle prompting.

“Now that we’ve resolved the salad situation, what do you say we move on to other topics?” she murmured.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Take the eggplant parmesan. It’s not bad at all.”

She wanted to give him a poke. “Aside from the food,” she persisted, “is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Looking up, he met her gaze. “Something personal.”

Her heart rate sped up. Finally he’d taken notice of her. “Yes?”

Patrick smiled. “I just want to say I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“My behavior on the yacht was inappropriate,” he explained. “I don’t blame you for being standoffish afterward. I’m glad we’re back to our old selves.”

Was that what he wanted, to go on forever as boss and secretary? Sadly Natalie reflected that that was no longer an option.

Sooner or later the truth would become all too apparent. She just hoped it was a whole lot later.

“I’m sure we’ll catch some flak from the cafeteria manager about changing the seating around,” Patrick continued, failing to notice her silence. “But I like the designer’s idea of creating privacy zones. This place feels too much like a high-school cafeteria.”

“Right.” At the moment Natalie wouldn’t care if the designer made people eat on the floor, but she had no intention of saying so.

“Everyone’s going to have to be flexible, with all the changes we’re planning. They can’t fight their own petty turf wars. It’ll be worth it.” Patrick went on discussing the upcoming modifications.

Gradually, as she listened, Natalie forgot her irritation. She loved hearing the excitement in Patrick’s voice and seeing the fire in his brown eyes. When he leaned forward to make a point, his intensity was like a caress, sending thrills down her spine.

She ached to touch his face and bring his mouth to hers. Would it ever happen again?

After they finished eating, they left the Birthing Center and cut across the courtyard. From nearby came the lilting sound of a chorus singing a hymn. The Serenity Fellowship Church, located next door to the medical center, was known for its choir, which practiced several afternoons a week.

The central courtyard, with its fountain and brand-name coffee kiosk adjacent to a breezeway, attracted a cheerful assortment of brown-bagging staffers and family members waiting for patients. Across a small round table, two women were talking earnestly. At another, an elderly couple beamed as their grandchild read from a picture book.

A wistful look flashed across Patrick’s face. Following his gaze, Natalie saw two women carrying infants into the Well-Baby Clinic on the first floor of the West Wing. Her spirits lifted. Maybe he was eager to have a child, in which case he might not be so upset when she told him….

“Spencer Sorrell doesn’t know how good he has it.” Patrick kept his voice low so no one else could hear. “He wants to be a full-time administrator and resents having to examine babies. That’s the best part of his job, if only he realized it.”

“Do you want to be a pediatrician again?” Natalie asked.

He shook his head abruptly. “Of course not, when I can be accomplishing so much in administration. You’ve seen the statistics, how birth defects and infant mortality in Serene Beach have dropped each year since this center was established. What more could I ask?”

“If you like babies so much, I’m surprised you haven’t had any of your own.” As soon as the words slipped out, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“You know what I’m like,” Patrick said. “If I had my way, I’d move into my office full-time.”

“You seemed to enjoy talking to that little boy at the crafts fair,” Natalie said. “Maybe if you spent more time around kids…”

She stopped when they turned right into the East Wing and came within earshot of other people. The workmen sat eating their sack lunches amid piles of sawdust and lumber, so there was no racket from the high-power saws.

On the other side of the foyer, clients were arriving and departing at the radiology department, which provided outpatient mammograms, ultrasounds and X rays. There were also visitors to the laboratory, which lay between radiology and the work zone, and which usually caught the brunt of the noise. After the reconstruction began, some wag had dubbed the area No Man’s Lab.

As Natalie and Patrick stepped out of the elevator on the second floor, she saw through the doorway that someone was waiting beside her desk. As they approached, the visitor stood up.

A tall woman with ash-blond hair and blue eyes much like Natalie’s, she wore a too-short skirt and a top that failed to cover her navel. It was Candy, her oldest sister.

She rarely popped into Natalie’s life except to ask for a favor. Heaven knew what kind of fix she’d gotten herself into this time.

If only Patrick would bowl right into his office without noticing her! She wasn’t that lucky, however.

Hurrying toward them, Candy grabbed Natalie’s arm. “Sis, I’ve got to talk to you.” She stared at Patrick. “Who’s this? Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, I am,” he said.

“What kind?”

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her brashness. “A pediatrician.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Nat, I’ve absolutely got to have liposuction.”

“We can talk about this some other time.” Natalie squirmed. “Candy, I’m working.”

“I know that!” Her sister tightened her grip on Natalie’s arm. “I’ve got a shot at a swimsuit-modeling job next month. Have you tried on one of those new suits? Never mind, you’re only twenty-nine. Wait’ll you’re…thirty.” She’d just knocked three years off her age. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”

Patrick stood listening, making no move to go into his office. Judging by his expression, he was either shocked or fascinated by this strange creature.

Until now, Natalie had managed to avoid exposing him to her overbearing sister. Her luck had finally run out. She could only stand there and hope the racket downstairs would resume and be loud enough to drown Candy out.

ALTHOUGH HE’D WORKED with Nat for five years, Patrick hadn’t met any of her family until this past weekend. They were proving to be an interesting bunch.

“My insurance won’t cover liposuction and I can’t afford it on a night clerk’s salary,” Candy continued. “But you work at a medical center! You can find out how to fudge the paperwork so I can make the liposuction look like another kind of operation, something that’s covered.”

“That’s fraud,” Natalie said.

“Everybody does it,” scoffed her sister.

“Besides, the doctors at our clinics don’t perform liposuctions,” she said.

“Well, not Dr. Pedes here, obviously.” The woman pronounced it Peeds, as in Pediatrics. Patrick had to subdue a chuckle at being so casually dismissed, when most people treated physicians with excessive deference. “Maybe one of the doctors can perform some minor surgery on me and suck out the fat while he’s at it.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Natalie said. “Candy, I’m not going to help you cheat your insurance company, and no ethical doctor would perform unnecessary surgery.”

“It is necessary! If I can’t get myself in shape in a hurry, I’m out of a career,” Candy protested, flinging back her long hair.

“How much does this operation cost?” Natalie asked.