The Fertility Factor

“Joey and I came to the park to play catch.”

From previous conversations with him, she knew that he and his son usually went to the park on the weekends. As Derek shifted his stance, she realized he’d angled his body while talking to her so he never lost sight of his son. She thought the boy with his dark-brown hair and blue eyes already had his father’s great looks.

“And we came for lunch. One of my son’s favorites. Hot dogs.”

Lara stood up to leave. “That’s a favorite of mine, too,” she said but didn’t move as he smiled. She liked his mouth, too. Firm looking with a full bottom lip. Then there were the slashing high cheekbones. She’d always been a sucker for a man with high cheekbones.

“I’ve heard you’re a fantastic cook. I wouldn’t think you’d touch a hot dog.”

She barely kept an idiotic grin from forming. What a perfect opportunity to say she’d be glad to cook him something some evening. Of course, she couldn’t. “I like cooking. Even hot dogs.”

“Anyone who can cook hot dogs rates high with my son. Is today special?” he asked, gesturing toward her clothes.

“We—” She paused. During her stint as an actress, she’d kissed a few heart-stopping, handsome males. Didn’t matter. She was sunk around Derek Cross. “We had an expensive lunch today—a once-a-month treat.”

“Nice.”

Dumbly she waited for him to say more.

Instead he shot a look at his son and beckoned him toward them. “Do you remember Ms. Mancini, Joey?”

“My name’s Lara.” She’d met him a few times before when Derek had brought him to the office, but he’d been younger, and she assumed he wouldn’t remember her. She gestured toward Joey’s baseball mitt. “Your dad told me that you love baseball.”

Derek frowned. “Did I?”

A twinge of disappointment whipped through her. She’d been so thrilled when he’d shared his celebratory mood and had told her about his son’s first home run on the previous day. “Yes, in passing.”

“I remember you. Do you want to play?” Joey asked.

Derek touched his slender shoulder. “Joey, she can’t—”

“I could, if I had more time. I love baseball, too.” Lara glanced at her watch, a serviceable round face with a black band. “Do you like the Yankees?”

“Yeah!”

“Me, too. I try never to miss a game.”

“There’s one on television today.”

“I know,” Lara said. “But I can’t watch it. I have to get back to work.” Maybe she was talking too much.

Derek sent her a questioning look. “I’d never have guessed you were a fan. Baseball seems too quiet for you.”

A laugh bubbled in her throat. “Too quiet?” Amusement stayed with her. She knew his background. The Cross family claimed a lineage that dated back to the American Colonies. How did Derek view her? Flighty? Eccentric? Because she’d been an actress? She’d learned from one man that the upper crust viewed theater people as a step above bohemians. James Braden III had made it clear that grease-paint and blue blood didn’t mix. “I have brothers. Quiet is not in the Mancini vocabulary.”

Derek flashed a smile. “They play ball?”

“One of them was always asking me to play catch.”

“I gather you come from a big family?”

“Three brothers, two sisters,” she said, feeling more at ease because Joey was near.

“I never knew that about you.”

Why would he? She was his nurse, nothing more. He’d have no reason to bother finding out anything about her. But he knew about her love of cooking? Why? Had he asked about her? Probably not, she decided. Someone might have said something, maybe at Christmastime when they’d had a potluck buffet at the center and everyone had brought a homemade dish. “Maybe some other time we can play,” she said, just to please the boy. She knew she’d never be with them again. “If that’s all right with your daddy,” she added.

Joey sent her a quick grin, obviously taking her words to heart. “Is it, Dad?”

With a gentle hand, Derek cupped his son’s shoulder. “We’ll see.”

A nice, noncommittal response, Lara mused.

“Daddy, can we go now?”

“I promised we’d watch the ball game until I have to leave,” Derek said to her.

During the three years since she’d begun working side by side with Derek, Lara had never seen him look so relaxed. It had nothing to do with the clothes. It was the way he looked at his son. No strain tightened his jawline. No annoyance narrowed his eyes. He looked so calm.

Joey took a step away, then halted, remembering her. “Bye, Lara.”

“See you, Joey.” She waited until he was out of hearing range. “He’s so adorable, Derek.”

“I think so. That was nice of you,” he said. “I owe you.”

She swung away, smiling. With excruciating honesty, she admitted her feelings for this man were like a teenage crush. That sounded incredibly immature for a thirty-eight-year-old woman, but she couldn’t ignore the emotions he stirred.

“Lara?”

In midstride, she paused, shot a look over her shoulder at him. She’d thought they were done.

His long, hard look nearly melted her bones. “You look terrific.”

Breathe, Lara, breathe. “Thank you.” During sensible moments she told herself that he’d probably drive her crazy with his inflexibility. She was a “wing it” person. Five siblings had forced her to have an easygoing nature. Adaptability was a must with a capital A. Derek definitely was intense, all wrong for her. He was also out of her league. But it didn’t matter a whit that they had nothing in common except a love for kids. She had the hots for him.

Derek watched her walk away and swore softly. She hadn’t told him what was wrong. He’d seen her sitting on the park bench. Head bent, she’d looked so alone. He’d never seen her alone. People gravitated toward her. At work someone—a patient’s family or a co-worker—was always talking to her.

“She’s pretty.”

Derek caught his son’s small hand and grabbed the handlebar of the bicycle. “Yes.”

More than one nurse had complained that he was aloof, detached, distant. He’d gone through several nurses before Lara had worked for him. He was too much of a perfectionist, people claimed. He expected too much, was tough on the people who worked with him. He didn’t think so. Babies, precious and innocent, were in his care. They deserved the best he and everyone he worked with could give them. He’d found that person when Lara Mancini had come to work with him. He’d be a fool to ruin the working relationship he had with her.

“She likes you. I can tell.”

Derek chuckled. “How can you tell?” he asked, interested in hearing his son’s observation.

“Because she smiled at you a lot. A real lot. Rylyn liked Adam and smiled at him all the time.”