Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe

“I won’t delay you.” Jason shifted backward, careful not to bump the dark-haired nurse behind him. That wasn’t easy, since Cynthia, six months pregnant with twins, nearly filled the hallway. “See you at four o’clock at my office.”

“I’ll be there.” Heather took the patient’s chart from Cynthia and read the cover page. As soon as Jason was gone, she said, “What did you overhear?”

“Nothing, and I wouldn’t repeat it if I had.” The nurse strolled with her down the hall. “If your earring ended up in Dr. Carmichael’s bed, I’m sure it was perfectly innocent.”

“Yes, it was.” Heather hoped Cynthia was as good as her word. She’d always been trustworthy until now.

Heather also spared a moment to wonder how long Jason would go on refusing to take her word for what had—or rather, hadn’t—happened. She hoped she wasn’t going to have to tell him the whole truth. After the way he’d behaved the next morning, he didn’t deserve to know.

Now that they were colleagues, they’d soon put it all behind them, she figured. It hadn’t been such a big deal. Doctors always let their hair down at medical conventions. They didn’t always take their clothes off, of course.…

She entered the examining room and smiled at the woman sitting on the examining table. Rita Beltran beamed back. Pregnant with triplets after two years of infertility treatments, she’d been floating on a cloud for months.

Heather shoved Jason Carmichael out of her mind. Her heart belonged to her patients, and success stories like Rita’s made all her efforts worthwhile.

FROM HIS TEMPORARY, second-story office in the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department, Jason stared across the courtyard. Even in late February, people lingered at the small tables around a fountain. For this time of year, the Southern California weather was remarkably pleasant compared to what he’d grown up with in Boston.

The courtyard connected a trio of buildings: the three-story Birthing Center to the north, plus two curving Spanish-style wings, including the West Wing where he stood. At the plaza level, a couple of workmen were carting boxes into the facing East Wing. He assumed the cartons contained acoustical tiles, since that’s what the men had been installing yesterday when the center’s administrator, Dr. Patrick Barr, had shown Jason around.

His own clinic. Even stripped to raw flooring and taped windows, it had been gorgeous.

Although he’d loved his work in Virginia, Jason knew he’d made the right decision by coming here. At the larger, better-established facilities where he’d trained and done research in reproductive endocrinology, he’d earned a name for himself. Although he’d enjoyed the prestige, what he loved most was helping eager couples have children.

Established by Dr. Barr’s late father, Doctors Circle had significantly improved infant and maternal health in the community. Now it was about to move on to the cutting edge of infertility treatments. Jason treasured the opportunity to put his signature on this new clinic.

Heather Rourke’s presence had had nothing to do with his decision to accept the job. Nor had it discouraged him from taking it, either. She had an excellent reputation and they should work well together, as long as she was willing to accept Jason’s leadership.

He intended to keep their relationship strictly professional in spite of that irrepressible spark in Heather’s eyes. In spite of a feminine way of moving that even a white coat couldn’t disguise. In spite of a figure that, while petite in the right places, was also lusciously rounded in others.

In the past, Jason’s experiences with romance had ended in unhappiness and anger. That kind of turmoil threatened to interfere with work, which was and always would be his number-one priority. Some men might be cut out for marriage and children, but not him.

A tap at the door drew his attention. George Farajian, chief of the Ob/Gyn Department, poked his graying head into the room. “Okay to come in?”

“Of course.” Jason turned away from the window.

“I can’t believe how organized you’ve got the place already.” The obstetrician indicated the neatly labeled file cabinets and alphabetized shelves of books.

With a twinge, Jason recalled how he’d chewed out his secretary for unpacking his boxes. If she hadn’t, however, he’d have spent the next month or so stumbling over them and cursing because he couldn’t find whatever he was looking for. He supposed he owed the woman an apology.

“I have to credit Coral,” he said. “She’s done a good job.”

“Glad to hear it. I believe she was hired specifically with you in mind. Now I’d like to introduce you to your new nurse.” George stepped to one side. “Jason, may I present Edith Krick.”

The center of gravity in the room shifted as the woman entered. Not literally, although she was heavyset, but emotionally. Dark-skinned, possessed of an inner certitude that bespoke years of experience, Edith had a knowing gaze that swept him assessingly.

They exchanged greetings and shook hands. All the while, Jason felt himself to be under critical scrutiny.

“Edith’s one of our best nurses,” George said. “She requested this assignment.”

“I wanted to work in the Infertility Clinic because I had one baby and never could have any more,” Edith told him. “I like to see women have as many as they want. It gets the love to flowing. You can’t ever have too much love in this world.” From her tone, it sounded as if she were challenging him to disagree.

“Heaven forbid I should stem the flow of love,” Jason said drily.

“I expect I’ll work real well with your secretary,” Edith went on. “Sometimes when a staffer is new in a place, she needs extra encouragement.”

So that was the problem. Obviously, Edith had heard about or witnessed Coral’s tears and didn’t intend to let Jason escape unscathed. Was this entire medical center full of hard-nosed women, he wondered, or was it just his luck to run into two of them on the same day?

George glanced from him to Edith and back again. Clearly, he hadn’t missed the undercurrents. “Is everything okay?”

“No problem,” Jason said.

“If you don’t mind, then, I’ve got some calls to return. Let me know if you need anything.” With a friendly nod, George departed.

“You play golf?” Edith asked.

“Occasionally.” Although the change of subject surprised him, Jason tried not to show it. “Do you?”

“No, but Dr. Farajian does. Plays every chance he gets,” said the nurse. “Sometimes with Dr. Sentinel. He’s our younger obstetrician.”

“How about you? How long have you worked at Doctors Circle?” Although Jason didn’t want to sound as if he were conducting an interview, it seemed important to take control and shift the balance of gravity back in his own direction.

“Ten years.” Apparently, Edith wasn’t interested in talking about herself, because she went on to say, “I suppose you know you’ve got patients scheduled starting on Monday.”

“That’s right.” Although the clinic might not be officially open, Jason wanted to begin screening patients and setting up treatment plans.

“One of them is Loretta Arista,” Edith went on. “She’s the public relations director here, and if she doesn’t get pregnant soon, she’s going to give up on having babies altogether.”

“I presume Dr. Rourke already did a workup on her?”

“She’s tried everything she knows,” Edith said. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I’ll do my best.” Jason found himself smiling at the woman’s obvious concern for her patients. Being a mother hen was a useful quality in a nurse. Less so in a doctor, however. He’d learned the hard way to keep a tight rein on his objectivity.

“We sure will.” Edith gave a nod, as if he’d passed inspection. “I’ll be honest with you, Doctor. People say you’re difficult to work with.”

“I set high standards and I’m impatient if they aren’t met,” Jason told her. “When it comes to infertility, time is the enemy. That’s why I hate wasting it. Sloppiness, making assumptions and failing to follow directions won’t be tolerated. I’m sure you agree or Dr. Farajian wouldn’t have recommended you.”

Edith’s grin made her face shine. “You’re tough because you fight for your patients. I like that.”

“I can see that we’re going to get along.” Jason remembered Heather’s comment that Edith had a thick hide. Good. He didn’t want to worry about accidentally wounding her ego if he snapped at her under pressure. Most likely, she’d bark right back at him the moment they were alone. Fair enough.

An almost subliminal scent tantalized Jason’s nostrils. Heather must have arrived for her tour of the new clinic. His subconscious made the connection even before he saw her.

“Hello, Dr. Rourke. How’s everything going with you?” Edith asked the smaller woman hovering outside in the hall.

“Fine. It’s good to see you.” Briskly, Heather came inside.

An auburn curl straggling along one cheek was the only sign of weariness despite what must have been a long day. Having shed her white coat, she wore a dark skirt and a tailored beige blouse that, in spite of some discreet tucks, sketched her generous curves.