The Millionaire And The M.D.

“Gabe Thorne,” he said. “This is my sister, Amy.”

“So you’re going to be an uncle.” She smiled. “Amy, if you’ll just step up on the scale, we’ll get your weight. Then I’ll take your blood pressure—all the usual stuff. You’re probably used to it by now. You look like you’re about six months along.”

Amy shrugged.

To Grace’s credit, she didn’t react to the attitude. After making a note in the chart, she said, “The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

Gabe looked around the exam room, so similar to the ones he’d seen with Hannah. His chest tightened when he recalled those last times when the two of them and their baby had been together. He’d talked to her belly, telling the baby about baseball, football, how someday he wouldn’t think girls were from another planet and that hamburgers would be a lot more appetizing when they didn’t get processed by Mom first. In that little room decorated with poster-size anatomy charts and the blood pressure cuff mounted on the wall, he’d had everything he could possibly want. His fingers curled into his palms so tight his knuckles ached.

Then the door opened and a blonde wearing a white lab coat walked in, holding a chart. He did a double take because no way was this beautiful woman the doctor. Just like that, he felt like all the blood was sucked out of his head.

She looked at both of them. “Hi. I’m Rebecca Hamilton.”

“Gabe Thorne. And this is my sister, Amy,” he said, relaxing his fist as he extended his hand.

The doc took it, then shook hands with Amy. “Nice to meet you both.”

If she had questions about the situation, it didn’t show on her face—a practically perfect face with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. And behind her wire-rim glasses were a pair of pretty brown eyes. He’d noticed a lot in a couple of seconds, including the fact that she seemed awfully young.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but are you old enough to be a doctor?”

She smiled and the unexpected brightness of it made him blink, then redirected the blood flow just returning to his brain.

“I promise I’ve taken all the classes, passed all the exams and done all the training,” she said.

“You hardly look older than Amy.”

“I am. Trust me.”

Trust me? Not exactly words that inspired confidence these days. Maybe he should have done some research. Access to a recommendation would have been pretty easy, and now he wished he’d made the time to ask instead of taking an appointment with the first doctor who had an opening. But why should he be concerned when Amy didn’t seem to give a damn?

He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m going out on a limb here and guess that you skipped high school and went directly to college.”

“Not quite. Just a few grades with a lot of AP classes thrown in.”

God help him he was going to hell for being a male chauvinist pig, and deserved to lose the hospital project that would expand the women’s wing, but it was hard to believe a knockout like Rebecca Hamilton could be that smart.

She smiled. “One patient asked if I was playing Baby Doctor Barbie. You’re quite the diplomat.”

If she could read his mind, she wouldn’t say that.

Rebecca sat on the rolling stool beside the exam table and carefully read the chart. “Amy, according to your paperwork you’re six months pregnant.”

“Yeah. I guess. I don’t know exactly.”

“She just arrived in Las Vegas,” Gabe explained.

“Okay.” The doc nodded. “We can request your records from your previous physician.”

“She hasn’t seen a doctor.”

For an instant, disapproval flashed through the doc’s eyes as her mouth tightened. “Is there a reason you haven’t been to a doctor?”

“I’m fine. He made me come today.” Amy lifted her chin and shot him a glare.

Rebecca met his gaze and nodded. “Good for you, Mr. Thorne—”

“Call me Gabe.”

“All right, Gabe.”

He wasn’t looking for a pat on the back, or anything else for that matter. So why in hell would her approval and his first name on her lips make him feel…What? Something. It was weird. He didn’t like weird any more than he liked feeling. If he had any choice, he wouldn’t do either.

“It’s hard to get medical care when you’re on the streets, Doc. She ran away from home. In Texas,” he added.

Amy gave him her best drop-dead-bastard look. “I’m eighteen. I can do what I want.”

“The hell you can,” he said.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah?” Her tone was surly and brought back that fist-through-the-wall-feeling. Her behavior was immature, irresponsible and he resented the hell out of her. He’d done everything right and lost his child. Amy didn’t give a damn and had a baby in her belly. What was wrong with this picture? “If you take such good care of yourself, who was that hungry, scared little girl on my doorstep? Because she sure didn’t look like a grown-up who doesn’t need anyone.”

“Time out.” Rebecca stood and moved between them. “What about the baby’s father?”

Amy’s defiant expression pulled her mouth tight, and he knew she wouldn’t tell the doc any more than she had him, which was exactly nothing. “She won’t give me a name. But if I ever get my hands on him—”

“It’s not your business,” Amy snapped.

“No? You didn’t get like this on your own. He needs to take responsibility. Why are you protecting him?”

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right. I don’t. And that’s okay. But Dad—”

“Don’t you dare. You promised.” Amy’s voice shook with the threat and her narrow-eyed gaze dared him to call her bluff. “I’m out of here if you call him.”

He wanted to. He wanted to call his father and hand off the problem. He wanted her gone so he could go back to forgetting. But he knew if he made that call and she made good on her threat, there could be more he’d need to forget about, and he was already on overload.

“Calm down, Amy.” Rebecca patted the teen’s shoulder. “Do your parents know where you are?”

“My mother’s dead,” Amy said, glancing at him.

“Your father, then,” she persisted. “He must be concerned about you.”

“I called him. Gabe made me. But I did it from a pay phone.”

“You don’t want him to know you’re with your brother?”