Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe

Jason tore his gaze away. He had the uncomfortable sense that both women had noticed where he was looking.

“We’re going to check out the clinic,” he told Edith. “Care to join us?”

Meaningfully, her chocolate eyes fixed on Heather and him in turn. “Like my mother used to say, three’s a crowd,” said the nurse. “Right now, this office is so small, I can hardly breathe. Guess I’d better go make sure the Records Department has sent over those patients’ charts for next week. I know how you hate inefficiency.” Fanning herself with one hand, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her.

Heather’s cheeks turned an appealing pink. “She’s not very subtle, I’m afraid.”

“About what?” Faced with potential embarrassment, Jason had learned that the best response was to pretend you didn’t get the point.

“Forget it.” She brushed a speck of lint off her blouse, seemingly unaware of how the action emphasized the shape beneath the clothing. Jason struggled to keep his breathing regular.

From the moment they’d met, during registration at a convention hotel in Atlanta, he’d felt the same powerful pull toward her. He found it hard to believe that, even jet-lagged and having consumed a couple of drinks, he’d blacked out as quickly as Heather claimed. Not with such a powerful yearning coursing through him.

Something had happened that night. Jason felt like an idiot for not being able to remember, but that was no excuse for her keeping him in the dark. Heather’s earring hadn’t landed in his bed by remote control.

Even though it might take a while to pry out the information, he was determined to get an answer. How he responded once he got it would depend on what he learned.

“I’ll buy you a cup of coffee at the kiosk on the way over.” Jason opened the door for her. “Unless you’ve had too much caffeine today.”

“There’s no such thing in this profession. Now that you mention it, if I don’t get some more, I may keel over.” Heather was so short, she walked under his outstretched arm and cleared it by an inch.

With hardly any effort, Jason could have drawn her against his chest and buried his face in her hair. Rejecting the image, he decided he needed that coffee even more than she did.

Chapter Two

Heather had avoided the first floor of the East Wing since the remodeling began, due to the noise, the sawdust in the air and the hazards of trying to make her way through construction clutter. With Jason as her guide, however, she found herself fascinated.

The work had progressed much further than she’d realized, transforming the area formerly leased to an outside group of pediatricians. The altered layout of the walls showed Heather a state-of-the-art facility, with examining rooms and surgical suites plus an extensive laboratory where they’d be able to offer in vitro fertilization and the whole alphabet soup of new technologies.

In a few short decades, medicine had surpassed what science fiction had proposed when Heather was in high school. In addition to egg donations and embryo transfers, researchers had developed such exotic procedures as AH, or assisted hatching, in which a small opening was etched in the outer coating of the early embryo to help it implant in the womb.

The pace of research had intensified to the point where Heather spent her free time catching up on medical journals, reading research papers and attending conferences. No matter what people thought, she was grateful to have Jason on staff with his advanced training and experience.

She was less grateful for the man’s overwhelming physical presence, not to mention the impulsive way he picked her up and lifted her over a row of boxes blocking her path. His large hands proved surprisingly gentle on her waist, the thumbs clamping lightly across her rib cage, the fingers nudging the skin below her breasts.

Ripples of desire flowed through her, speeding up Heather’s breathing and spurring a sharp, Technicolor memory.

When he caught her nipples in his mouth, heat slammed into her, so intense it was almost painful. Lying on the hotel bed, Heather caressed his thick, black hair with a sense of delicious disbelief. She’d only met this man today. What was she doing? And how many times could they do it again during a three-day convention?

“The director’s office is this way.” Jason, seemingly unaffected after lifting her, led the way past the examining rooms. “You can pick which of the other offices you’d prefer.”

“I’ll take one as far from yours as possible.” Had she said that aloud? Heather managed a smile. “I’m kidding, of course.”

“It’s up to you.” Surely that was studied indifference on Jason’s handsome face, not the real thing, she thought, then wondered why she cared.

They stepped through an anteroom into his future office, which consisted of bare walls, rough wooden flooring and a curtainless window. From against the baseboards, Jason hoisted a couple of sketches washed with pastels.

“Dr. Barr asked what I thought of his commissioning a mural for the hall, a motif that would carry through the examining rooms.” He handed her the samples. “Here’s what the designer is proposing. What do you think?”

The artist had a clever touch with babies, Heather mused as she examined the drawings. Each sketch showed a lively youngster, its face alight with precocious emotions. Rounded and full of life, the infants nearly leaped off the paper and into her arms. They reminded her of some photographs her friend Amy Ravenna Ladd, Doctors Circle’s resident psychologist, had installed in her office.

“From your expression, I gather you like them,” Jason said.

“They’re marvelous.” Heather held them up, trying to imagine how they might figure into a mural. “Still, some patients find it painful to be constantly reminded of the babies they can’t have.”

“Maybe we should post drawings of ancient fertility symbols,” he teased.

“I suspect they’d prefer male movie stars,” she said drily. “That ought to put them in a fertile mood.” Although she didn’t intend to tell him so, she doubted anyone was going to need pictures of movie stars with Dr. Jason Carmichael around.

“Some of our patients are men,” he pointed out.

“I’ll allow a few photos of beautiful women,” Heather said, adding, “In the men’s bathroom.”

“Whatever you’ve been doing until now, I was impressed by the statistics on your success rate,” Jason said. “Of course, even if I hadn’t read the documents, I could tell just by looking around Doctors Circle. There seem to be a lot of pregnant staff members.”

Heather handed the sketches back to him. “I don’t deserve all the credit. Some women manage fine by themselves.”

“I noticed that your nurse is pregnant,” Jason said. “Isn’t she uncomfortable, working so close to her due date?”

“She wants to save as much leave as possible for after the twins are born,” Heather admitted. “Since she’s a single mom…” She stopped, not wanting to reveal more of Cynthia’s situation than necessary.

“I see.” Jason frowned. “As the single mother of two infants, she could have a hard time keeping up with your schedule. Perhaps she and the father will prefer that she switch to a less rigorous schedule.”

“The father’s out of the picture entirely.” She pressed her lips together, not wanting to say anything further.

“I’m sorry to hear it, for everyone’s sake.” He shook his head. “She’s going to be exhausted and distracted. If she starts making mistakes that affect patient care, she’ll have to be transferred.”

“She’ll be fine.” Heather wasn’t sure why she bristled at his tone, since she shared the same concerns. But after providing excellent assistance for several years, Cynthia had earned her loyalty. “She loves working with me. She doesn’t want any other position.”

“Then she should have thought things out more carefully in advance,” Jason said.

How dare he blame the pregnancy on Cynthia when she already had enough problems? “Are you blaming her for having an accident?”

“No, but…” Jason seemed briefly at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “As an obstetrical nurse, she surely has the knowledge to prevent this kind of situation.”

“People have been known to get carried away by their passions,” Heather said. “Not that I need to mention any names.”

She saw by the way his eyes widened that she’d hit her target. “You’re changing your story? It’s no longer that nothing happened. Now it’s that we got carried away by our impulses?”

“We went part of the way before you fell asleep,” Heather said. “That’s all.”

“I’m willing to believe that in my less-than-optimal condition, my memory lost what must have been a delicious experience.” Jason moved closer, looming over her. Heather had to fight the impulse to take a step backward. “But you’re saying that I fell asleep in the middle of making love to you? That’s going a bit far. I’m thirty-six, not ninety-six.”

“What difference does it make?” she snapped. “Whatever we did, it’s over.”

“I’d like to know where I stand.”

“A little too close for comfort, frankly.”