The Doctor's Secret Baby

“Did you pack a schematic?”

“Very funny.” She couldn’t help smiling. His sense of humor was the first thing that attracted her. Now was no exception. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

“I think I can figure it out.”

“If nothing makes her happy and she won’t stop crying, remove her from the waiting room. She loves being outside and hopefully that will distract her. If not, go to the reception desk and Grace will come to the exam room and get me.”

“Grace?”

“Martinson. She’s the doctor’s receptionist, office manager and all around assistant.”

“Got it.” He shifted the strap of the diaper bag more securely on his broad shoulder.

Emily knew for a fact that the thing was heavy yet he didn’t seem to feel the weight. But Annie’s bulk was starting to make her back hurt. If only she could pass the child to Cal, but that would start a meltdown, not a smart move until it was absolutely necessary.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath and started down the cement pathway toward the office. “Let’s do this.”

“This” was the last thing she wanted to do, but the lump hadn’t gone away. Inside, the waiting room was air-conditioned and there was only one woman waiting, meaning either the doctor was on time or there’d been a delivery and earlier patients rescheduled. Either way it was a good thing for them.

Emily signed the patient sheet with her name and arrival time, then found a bench seat by the back office door. She settled Annie on her lap and Cal sat beside her.

The older woman in the chair next to them smiled. “Your little girl is adorable.”

Although she didn’t feel like small talk, Em could never ignore an Annie compliment. “Thank you. I think so, too.”

“She looks just like her daddy,” the woman said.

Cal nodded. “I think so, too.”

“How old is she?”

He looked at Em who answered, “Almost a year.”

The woman nodded. “You make a lovely family.”

If they were giving off a family vibe, it was Academy Award–caliber performances. This was the first outing for the three of them, and not for happy reasons. Fortunately no response was required because the door opened and Grace Martinson stood there. Emily had gotten to know her pretty well during her prenatal visits.

The green-eyed redhead in blue scrubs smiled. “Hi, Em. I’ll take you back in a minute. Mrs. Wilson?”

The older woman stood and followed her into the back office. Em’s stomach did the nervous dance with a healthy dose of fear driving it. All her research said that 80 percent of breast lumps turned out to be benign, but what if she was in the 20 percent range? She squeezed Annie to her until the little girl squirmed in protest. What would happen to this child if something happened to her? Her own mother wouldn’t win any awards, but at least she’d been around. Sort of.

She glanced at Cal who’d slid his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked ultra-cool and devastatingly handsome. He’d have to take care of their child on his own. In a few minutes he was going to get a crash course demonstrating exactly what that meant. Before she could give him last-minute pointers, the door opened again and Grace was there.

“You’re up, Emily.”

“Okay.” She stood with Annie in her arms and kissed her daughter’s cheek. Then she looked at Cal. “You’re up, too.”

He nodded and held out his arms. She handed the baby over and steeled herself for the cry of protest that came instantly.

“I’ll get her back as quick as I can,” Grace said to him, then shut the door.

Em followed her to the first exam room where she was directed to disrobe from the waist up and put on a cloth gown. Left alone, she did as instructed, all the while hoping her baby’s cries would diminish and stop, but no such luck. She heard the front door open and close. He was following orders and taking Annie outside, which meant juice and favorite crackers had no effect on her daughter’s aversion to the complete stranger who was her father.

Em felt like the worst mother on the planet, and the slime at the bottom of a toxic pond. This was all her fault. It wouldn’t be this traumatic if Annie knew Cal and that was something she’d regret to her dying day, which hopefully wouldn’t be too soon.

It made her angry that she was faced with a situation she couldn’t control and had to rely on Cal. Even more, she hated how glad she was that he was there, but none of this was fair to Annie. She had no idea what was going on and was just scared because her mommy had thrust her into the arms of a man she didn’t know from a rock. No wonder she was crying her eyes out. That, at least, was something that could be fixed.

She opened the door to the exam room, held her gown together with one hand at her chest and flagged Grace down in the hallway. “Annie’s really upset.”

“I heard,” Grace said ruefully.

“Can she come in the exam room?”

“It will be hard for the doctor to check you out if she’s clinging to you.”

“As long as she can see me, I think it would calm her down,” Em said.

“Who’s the hunk?” Grace asked.

“Dr. Cal Westen.”

“The pediatric E.R. guy at Mercy Medical? He’s a friend?”

Not so much, Em thought. “You could say that.”

Grace looked puzzled. “What about patient privacy?”

“I want him to know everything. Just in case.”

“Okay.” Grace nodded. “I’ll go get him.”

Em nodded then sat on the exam table, legs dangling over the end. Moments later she heard Annie crying and it got louder just before Cal brought her into the room.

He handed the baby to her. “Sorry.”

That made two of them. “Not your fault,” she said, cuddling the little girl to her. “Can I have her cup?”

He dug the juice out of the diaper bag and Annie grabbed it, relaxing in her arms when she started to suck.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

“No.” She didn’t want to be alone, and Annie didn’t count.

The crying jag had worn her out and a bit of gentle rocking coaxed her into sleep. “Can you take her? It will be fine. Once she goes off, it takes a lot to wake her.”

He nodded and set the diaper bag on the chair, then stood in front of her and held out his arms. True to form, Annie slept through the transfer and Em’s arms were grateful. Moments later the doctor walked in. A brown-eyed blonde, Rebecca Hamilton was in her late twenties, young for a doctor. She’d skipped several grades in school and that had given her a jump on her career and a successful, growing practice.

“Hi, Emily,” she said, settling her wire-rimmed glasses more securely on her freckle-splashed nose. She noticed Cal and the baby. “Sorry. I didn’t know Annie was asleep.”