The Surgeon's Surprise Twins

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “Getting his MBA, right?” Bailey said.

  Owen doubted his brother had earned that degree. “He took business classes at NYU.”

  “While you went to Harvard.”

  “Yale, undergrad. Then Harvard Medical School. On scholarships, as I said.” Usually Owen didn’t mind showing off, but with Bailey, he seemed to make more headway when he confessed his weaknesses.

  Headway? He had no agenda with her. In fact, the last thing he sought was any entanglement with a nurse at the medical center, especially one with whom he shared a house.

  And who was carrying his baby.

  His gaze slid instinctively to her rounded abdomen. There was something deliciously sensual about her pregnancy-enhanced shape. Must be some ancient instinctive male attraction to fertility, especially since there was part of him inside there.

  Best to avoid the subject. But how could he resist? Besides, as the supposed uncle, he had an excuse to be curious. “Why did you agree to be your sister’s surrogate?”

  Bailey’s eyebrows drew up in a wonderfully school-marmish expression. “Exactly how did you segue from medical school to my baby bump?”

  “Just answer the question,” Owen said.

  “Because she needed me.” Without pausing to let him ask anything further, Bailey volleyed, “My turn! Why did you decide to work with infertile women? You don’t seem like the warm fuzzy type.”

  She had a frustrating talent for throwing Owen off balance. He wished he had a simple explanation, but the truth was more complicated. “Let’s start with the fact that I’m interested in using my skill as a surgeon to improve people’s lives. I considered other specialties.”

  “Such as?”

  He thought back to his days in medical school. “Cardiac surgery, for one. My father died of a heart attack, but he’d been weakened by starvation, and surgery couldn’t have fixed that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Bailey said. “And you lost your mom, too.”

  “To cancer. She didn’t even tell me she was ill, so I never got to share her battle.” His breath caught at the memory. Why was he getting emotional about a loss that had happened a decade ago? “By then I was doing my residency in obstetrics.”

  “You still haven’t told me why you chose that field,” she persisted.

  Owen hadn’t reviewed his reasons for a long time. “I suppose that after all the death and suffering my parents went through, I chose a field filled with hope. I’d more or less forgotten that along the way. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “Wow. I can’t believe what I’m learning about you,” she said. “You sound halfway human.”

  “Don’t strain yourself paying me compliments.”

  She stuck out her feet and wiggled her toes. “I promise not to ruin your reputation as a grouch.”

  Her toenails were painted lavender, Owen noticed, and wondered how much longer she’d be able to reach them, at the rate her baby was growing. “That’s big of you. Literally.” Without pausing to think, he blurted, “Why does Phyllis need a surrogate?”

  “She’s forty.”

  “That isn’t old for a maternity patient these days. What else?”

  Bailey regarded him aslant, as if weighing whether to trust him. “Well, you are part of the family, so I guess it’s no secret. After she had a couple of miscarriages, her doctor diagnosed something called Inherited Chromosomal Rearrangements. I guess you know what that is.”

  “I do.” In two to four percent of cases involving repeated miscarriages, one of the parents turned out to have an unusual structure of chromosomes. These didn’t affect the parent because the translocated chromosomes were balanced, with no missing or extra pieces, but when they were passed to the child, pieces might go astray. The result could be severe birth defects or miscarriage. While such parents had a chance of producing healthy children, Owen understood why a forty-year-old woman who’d had several miscarriages might give up. “You didn’t inherit the condition?”

  “Luckily, no.”

  “So you’re using your eggs, not hers?”

  She nodded.

  Neither Boone nor Phyllis had contributed DNA, which meant that this baby’s parents were both right here. Until a few days ago, they’d been strangers, and after the birth they’d merely be the child’s aunt and uncle, but right now they were, in a sense, primary.

  “Did you take fertility drugs?” he asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He wished she’d stop skirting the issue. “Because you’re big for three months.”

  “It looks that way because I’m short.”

  Who did she think she was talking to? “I’m an expert. You’re large for your dates.”

  “No fertility drugs. I didn’t need them.”

  “That’s good.” Still, he had the sense she was holding back. “And you’re getting regular checkups?”

  “Well…” Her lips parted, and she studied him as if struggling with a decision.

  What was going on? “Tell me.”

  “Did I mention why Phyllis is letting me stay here? I mean, aside from the fact that I’m her surrogate?”

  He didn’t see the connection. “What does this house have to do with anything?”

  “I’m working up to it!” Bailey flared.

  “Just get to the point.” Seeing her frown, Owen struggled to rein in his impatience. “Sorry. Tell me in your own way.” Forcing himself to relax, he sprawled out in the water, elbows on the concrete lip, legs brushing hers lightly. If he had to humor her, he might as well get comfortable.

  And if his body insisted on responding in ways that could be embarrassing in a skimpy swimsuit, he hoped she was too preoccupied to notice.

  Chapter Six

  How much should I tell him? On most topics, Bailey talked freely to her friends—perhaps too freely, she’d been advised more than once. She’d already spilled too much about her sister and brother-in-law’s financial dealings to Nora, for instance.

  Yet within a family, people had to trust each other, and Owen was part of the family. Furthermore, his comment echoed her own concerns. When she’d agreed to have a baby for Phyllis, she’d committed to doing everything in her power to sustain a healthy pregnancy. She certainly hadn’t expected to have to proceed without proper medical care.

  The man watching her from across the small pool didn’t seem like the overbearing Dr. Tartikoff. When he’d discussed his parents’ hardships, she’d seen the pain and recognized how much dedication it had taken to achieve his success. This wasn’t some spoiled golden boy. He was the baby’s uncle, and a world-class obstetrician. It would be wrong to let pride stand in the way of doing her duty to her baby.

  “As I said, we didn’t use fertility drugs,” she began. “I guess we would have if I hadn’t become pregnant right away, but Phyllis didn’t want to spend more than necessary and I was happy to avoid the risk of side effects.”

  “Do twins run in your family?” Despite the fact that he was half-naked and his ankle kept brushing her thigh, he projected the calm assessment of a physician. Quite a trick, in Bailey’s opinion.

  “Not as far as I know. But there are other reasons why I could be so big. I mean, size is relative…” She broke off, aware that she was making a hash of this.

  The water swished as he sat up. “You’re telling me you haven’t had an ultrasound?”

  “I was leading up to that,” Bailey conceded. “The reason I’m living here is that Phyllis and Boone are having this cash flow problem. I was fronting the money for the doctor bills, only I couldn’t afford that anymore. When the renter moved out, my sister offered to let me live here as compensation.”

  “They’re broke?” Concern and anger flashed across Owen’s face.

  “Not broke!” They couldn’t be. They were managing her lifesavings, and a lot of other people’s, too. Besides, Phyllis wouldn’t lie to her. “It’s just that funds are temporarily tight, that’s all.”

  Owen leaned forward. “When was the last tim
e you had a checkup?”

  She couldn’t keep dodging the truth. “Six weeks ago.”

  He smacked the water with his palm, splashing them both. “Of all the irresponsible…”

  “I didn’t confide in you so you could criticize me!” Bailey might have slammed water right back in his face, except that this was far too serious a matter for roughhousing.

  “Not you. Boone and your sister.” Owen scowled past her, as if visualizing his brother. “They had no business commissioning you as a surrogate if they’re in a financial bind. Let alone taking you to some clinic in L.A., and then neglecting to pay for your treatment.”

  Hearing her worries put into words gave Bailey a sick feeing in the pit of her stomach. “What’s done is done,” she said miserably. “I’m carrying their child. I just have to make the best of it. Besides, Phyllis and I grew up without any money. Poor people deserve to have children, too.”

  “They don’t deserve to talk their trusting sister into bearing a child for them! Especially when…” He stopped in midsentence. “This is getting us nowhere. Let’s go give you a checkup.”

  “What?” She hadn’t expected him to offer. “I should ask Nora.”

  His jaw clenched. Why on earth did he care? Being an uncle didn’t exactly make him intimately involved, and Bailey doubted that the formidable Dr. T. had performed an ultrasound on a patient in years. While obstetricians were trained to do them, most assigned the job to a technician.

  “You said yourself this is a family matter,” he said tightly. “If there’s a problem, I’ll help you deal with it.”

  Bailey wasn’t sure how to react. In her experience, men didn’t take care of you. They stuck around for the fun and games, and then made themselves scarce. Obviously, Owen had a strong sense of responsibility about his brother’s failure to provide for her.

  “You mean right now?” she asked.

  “Sure. I’ve got a key to the office.” He arose, dripping, an impressive sight from her angle. Lots of muscles, a hard stomach and…why was she looking at that part of his anatomy? “Need a hand up?”

  “I can manage.” She braced on the pool’s lip and levered herself upright.

  Owen might be doing her a favor this once, but she didn’t intend to start counting on a guy for support, literally or figuratively. Because despite his generosity, he’d soon get distracted by more pressing matters.

  Men always did.

  AS A CHILD, OWEN HAD ADORED his smart, slick, fast-talking older brother. Boone had sheltered him in return, coming to his aid in junior high when a bully at school repeatedly taunted Owen, stole his badly needed lunch money and trashed his backpack. After complaints to the principal’s office failed to resolve the problem, Boone had paid the school a visit and managed—he’d never disclosed the details—to plant marijuana in the guy’s locker and get him transferred to a program for troubled students.

  A couple of years ago, when his brother discovered that he suffered from a low sperm count, Owen hadn’t hesitated to donate his own. And although Boone should have informed Owen about the decision to use a surrogate, that might not have been a deliberate deception.

  But this financial business was troubling. Boone’s father had been convicted of operating confidence games that stole hundreds of thousands of dollars from naive investors. Was Boone following in his father’s footsteps right here in Safe Harbor?

  As he finished drying off in the bedroom, Owen wrestled with that possibility. If Boone and Phyllis were abusing their investors’ trust, how would that affect Bailey? If they got arrested, how badly was that going to reflect on Owen and the fertility program? Most important, should he notify the police of his suspicions?

  He had no proof and no real evidence, he conceded as he pulled on a polo shirt. Boone and his wife’s failure to arrange for proper medical care was a serious matter, but hardly criminal. If someone reported Owen to the police on vague suspicions, endangering his reputation and his medical license, he’d be furious and consider filing a libel suit.

  Let sleeping dogs lie, his mother used to say. When she was out of the room, Owen’s father had added, But never turn your back on them. Both pieces of advice struck him as worthwhile in this situation.

  Deciding to leave the matter alone for the moment, Owen zipped up his jeans and slid his bare feet into a pair of loafers. Right now, he had to make sure Bailey and her baby were all right.

  His baby, too. Not that he’d ever tell anyone. But how miraculous to be the first person to actually see it.

  Owen kept up his skills by performing occasional ultrasounds, and he’d always enjoyed the parents’ reactions. Today, he was going to discover how that felt in an entirely new way.

  THERE WAS AN EERIE EMPTINESS to the Safe Harbor Medical Building on a Sunday, Bailey noticed as Owen let them into a first-floor corridor through a side door. Despite the July sunshine outside, dimness bathed the hallway, with only faint safety lights to guide the way. When they entered the lobby, no one sat behind the reception desk to check them in, and the pharmacy was shuttered.

  She shivered. “Cold?” Owen asked.

  “No. It just seems strange, with no one around.”

  “We’re around.” Giving her a crooked grin, he punched the elevator button.

  Bailey wasn’t even close to feeling cold, and not only because of her pregnancy hormones. Owen seemed to be generating waves of energy, or maybe it was his dark red hair that gave the illusion of heat. Around him, she felt herself glowing like a furnace.

  When he ushered her into the mirrored elevator, she felt a glimmer of doubt. Much as she needed an exam, maybe she should beg off and wait until she could see another obstetrician. Then she wouldn’t have to undress for this guy.

  He’s a doctor. Yes, and she was a nurse. Wasn’t that a game couples played? Let’s go into a room where you can examine me.

  Bailey summoned her nerve as the doors opened at the third floor. “I’m not sure this is proper.”

  “Proper?” Owen stood aside to let her out. “What a quaint term.”

  “I meant…” What did she mean? “You don’t have my medical records. And you’re my brother-in-law, kind of. And besides…” Shut up, Bailey.

  “And besides, we’re here, so let’s go.” Taking her elbow, Owen guided her around a corner to a door marked with his name and specialties. Obstetrics, gynecology, fertility. None of that came close to summing up the tall, hard and overwhelmingly confident man beside her. “This is strictly between you, me and the baby. I assure you, I don’t plan to become your regular physician.”

  The waiting room was much like Nora’s a floor below, except that the couches and the paint smelled new. The place had obviously been refurbished for its star occupant.

  “I don’t care how private this is,” Bailey protested. “I’m nervous.”

  Owen switched on the light, closed the door and folded his arms. “About my qualifications?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Glad to hear it.” With another of those cocky grins, he led the way to the inner suite.

  Bailey’s hand drifted to her midsection. “I’m not ready.”

  Owen flicked on the overheads in an examining room. “I’m only going to listen to the baby’s heartbeat and perform an ultrasound. There’s nothing invasive.”

  “It’s not the medical procedure.”

  “Then what?”

  This was hard to admit. “I’m not ready for the baby to be real.”

  At the sink, he washed his hands. “How’s that?”

  Bailey struggled to summon the right words, for herself as well as for him. “When I volunteered to be a surrogate, I had this vague idea of my sister holding a baby and humming lullabies, like in some commercial. Sure, I knew I’d get big and suffer nausea and backaches, and that eventually the little guy would have to come out of me, but it was all kind of remote.”

  “So you’d rather watch a greeting card commercial than see your own baby on an ultrasound?”


  Bailey glared. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand. It’s not like it’s your kid.”

  From a cabinet, Owen took out a hospital gown, the latest model in powder-blue. Nora’s patients made do with much-laundered pink gowns. “Put this on. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “You aren’t listening!”

  “You want to change in front of me?” One eyebrow arched. “I’m game.”

  She accepted the gown. “I’ll talk to Nora tomorrow. There’s no reason for you to do this.”

  “Other than the fact that we’re here?” He looked much larger than usual in this intimate room.

  “If we go home, we won’t be here,” Bailey countered. “That will take care of that.”

  He started to laugh. “You’re a tough character.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And you’re stubborn as an ox.”

  Gently, he reached out and rubbed his palms across her shoulders. “You’re scared. This whole situation feels out of control, right?”

  His kind tone caught her off guard. “I didn’t expect to get pregnant right away,” Bailey blurted. “Then, after I did, Phyllis more or less abandoned me. I mean, about the medical care. Now I’m sticking out to here already, which means there might be something wrong.”

  Owen leaned down, his forehead close to hers. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The fact that you’re large doesn’t mean there’s a problem. That’s what we’re here to learn.”

  To Bailey’s embarrassment, tears burned in her eyes. “What if I see the baby and it isn’t…I don’t know…”

  “One step at a time,” he murmured.

  Bailey felt an irrational urge to cling to Owen. A woman needed the father with her during a pregnancy. She’d blindly accepted the assurance that her sister would fill that role, but now she was left counting on a man she hardly knew. And he was being so gentle. If she weren’t careful, she’d put her arms around him. This was Dr. Owen Tartikoff! Was she out of her mind?

  Pride, more than anything, enabled her to draw a deep breath and straighten her shoulders. “Okay. I’ll change.”