Expecting The Doctor's Baby

He held up his hand. “Before you finish that statement, you should know that I don’t take no for an answer.”

Was he talking about lunch? Or her refusal to be his counselor? Because if that was what he meant, he was doomed to disappointment.

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” she said.

“Maybe. But now isn’t one of those times. Have lunch with me, Sam.” He grinned, then took her arm and guided her down the hall. “Another happy by-product of being with me is that no one can accuse you of talking to yourself.”

He really didn’t take no for an answer, she thought, letting him lead her into the dining room. The smell of food assaulted her and made her stomach growl. She’d entered the inner sanctum.

“So this is where they feed the medical gods,” she said.

“Pretty impressive, huh?”

She looked around at groupings of tables covered with white cloths, matching napkins and tweed chairs scattered throughout the room. There was a steam table for hot food and a cold one filled with greens, fruits and creamy-based salads. Waiters in white jackets delivered drinks to several people, then cleared used plates.

Sam glanced up at him. “I’ve been to the cafeteria and we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

“Stick with me, Sunshine. I’ll take you to all the good places.”

Following Mitch’s example she picked up a tray, plate and utensils then chose small portions of seafood, salad, fruit and a sugar cookie for dessert. On second thought, she picked up another one because she needed the comfort food after seeing her father. The room was still nearly empty but Mitch headed for a quiet spot in the far corner and she followed him.

After settling, the waiter walked over and took their drink orders—coffee for him, iced tea for her. When the liquids were delivered, they ate in silence for a few moments. Because of a deeply ingrained personal aversion to long silences, Sam felt the need to fill this one.

“So you’re working today?” she asked.

“What was your first clue?”

“The fact that you’re here, for one. And dressed in scrubs. That’s two clues. Have you been busy?”

“You mean have I offended anyone today?” he asked.

“I actually didn’t mean that, but…Have you?”

He shook his head. “It’s clear, however, that someone offended you.”

“What was your first clue?” She put down her fork and picked up a cookie.

“Besides looking like you wanted to rip someone’s head off?” He sipped his coffee. Black. “So, who’s the jerk?”

“I have to pick one?” she asked.

His eyebrows rose as he set his cup back on the saucer. “A plethora of jerks? You are having a bad day. Tell me about it.”

There was no reason not to and it would fill that pesky silence. “For starters there’s my fiancé—ex-fiancé,” she amended.

“What did he do to become an ex?”

“I found him in bed with someone he wasn’t engaged to.” She chewed thoughtfully. “Although they were engaged in—Never mind.”

“That definitely qualifies him for jerk status.”

“Not according to my father. Stepfather, actually,” she clarified.

“Did you tell him the jerk cheated on you?”

She picked up cookie number two. “Not exactly.”

“What exactly did you tell him?”

“That we had a mutual parting of the ways.” She saw his skeptical expression and hurriedly added, “It was just easier than the truth. I didn’t want to make Dad feel bad. He introduced us and thought we’d be the perfect couple.”

“And what did Arnie say?” he asked, the sarcastic tone hinting at his less than positive opinion of her father.

“He said that I should try to patch things up. After that he indicated that if I was any good at what I do, I could salvage the relationship. For thirty minutes I silently listened to how inadequate I am. How I should get a real job. Something I’m good at. If I can’t do that, then finding a man to marry me—make that take care of me—would be the best solution.”

“That would imply you’re a problem.”

She shrugged. “It’s just that he doesn’t have a lot of respect for my profession or just about anything else I do, for that matter.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Mitch stared at her.

“If only.”

And now that her pity party was over she wanted the invitation back. It wasn’t her habit to talk to a relative stranger, not to mention a client of her firm, about her personal problems. She could only blame anger and a healthy dose of nerves for spilling her guts like that. Mitch Tenney made her nervous in a stomach-fluttering, weak-knees kind of way. And he used silence like a scalpel to open her up. She’d felt an obsessive need to put words in the void and said whatever came to mind. Since she’d just seen her father, all that stuff came out of her mouth.

Mitch’s fork clattered on the plate and he stared at her. “I’m waiting for the part where you told the arrogant ass to take a flying leap. And I mean Arnie, not the ex.”

“You’d be waiting for a long time.” She sighed.

“You didn’t say anything.”

How could she explain this to a man who was so straightforward he said what was on his mind and let the chips fall anywhere? “My father isn’t perfect.”

“You can say that again.” He stared at her. “It seems to me you dodged a bullet with the ex and father jerk should be doing the dance of joy instead of calling you on the carpet.”

Her heart did a fluttery, pounding thing in her chest. He barely knew her, yet he was on her side. It was new; it was nice. But Mitch was reacting to what she’d told him in anger. It wasn’t the whole truth.

“Arnold Ryan is the only father I’ve ever known. He adopted me and, after my mother died, he raised me with his own children. I don’t know what I’d have done without him. He’s my family and he’s been good to me.”

“Define good to you. Because from where I’m sitting putting down your profession and ordering you to apologize to a cheater who doesn’t deserve you doesn’t sound like good.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds—”

“Way wrong?”

Yes, but she wouldn’t admit that. “My father said what he did because he wants what’s best for me,” she explained.

“Put-downs, recriminations and bad advice?” Mitch met her gaze. “How’s that working for you?”