Owen had never crossed swords with Cole that he could recall. In fact, their interaction at previous conferences had been pleasant. “I’m floored.”
No one spoke.
“Okay, I can be hard to get along with,” Owen conceded. “But only…” Only for people who’re working under me. Which Cole would be. Was his reputation really that bad?
“Moving right along, who else do you have in mind?” Chandra asked.
He provided a couple of names. They wrapped up the videoconference by eleven-fifteen, which gave him a chance to drop by his hospital office down the hall from Mark’s before heading to the medical building next door.
Hurrying into the outer office, Owen gave a start as a blond man jumped to his feet. What was Ned Norwalk doing here—planning to challenge him to a duel over Bailey? Well, she hadn’t been singing duets with Ned lately, so he doubted the fellow had a chance. “Yes?”
“Nurse Norwalk asked to wait for you,” the receptionist put in. “I hope that’s all right.”
Despite his irritation, Owen reminded himself that the man might have business of a nonpersonal nature. Besides, it was hardly fair to vent at the guy simply for the crime of eating lunch with Bailey. “Of course,” he said. “Come in.”
The nurse gave a quick nod and followed. Judging by his rapid breathing, he was nervous about something.
Growing more curious by the minute, Owen offered him a chair and then sat behind the desk. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’d like to work for you.” Ned swallowed as if about to say something further, then sat back and waited.
“I beg your pardon?” Owen took a moment to grasp the man’s meaning. “You mean in my office?”
Ned nodded. The fellow was offering to take over as Owen’s nurse. That was unexpected. “Mind if I ask why?”
“Even in high school, I liked taking care of people. I used to work summers as a lifeguard. At first, when I decided to become a nurse, my friends teased me, but I knew it was right for me.” Ned spoke with a thoughtfulness Owen hadn’t noticed before. Not that he’d paid much attention.
Owen had never worked closely with a male nurse. “That doesn’t explain why you’re seeking a transfer from surgery. That is what you’re doing now, I believe.”
“That’s right, sir.” Ned’s steady manner was growing on Owen. “As I said, I like people. Listening to them. Making sure nothing gets overlooked. In surgery, I barely meet them before they’re anesthetized. And when I work the recovery room, they’re so groggy that mostly I’m just checking their vital signs.”
“We’re going to have a number of new physicians joining the staff,” Owen said. “Why choose me? I’m a notorious pain in the neck.”
Ned’s mouth twisted wryly. “I have to admit, you did snap at me without good cause, and everybody knows about your problems with Keely. Hope you don’t mind my being candid.”
“I don’t.” Owen preferred honesty to simmering resentment.
The younger man shrugged. “Erica speaks highly of you. According to the grapevine, Keely walked out—you didn’t fire her, so I can’t hold that against you. And there’s a certain prestige in working for a doctor in your position.”
Was the fellow seeking status? If so, it would come at a high cost. “Make sure you understand that I’m tough to work for. I have very high standards, and I don’t make nice with people’s feelings.”
“But when Bailey called you on your behavior, you were gracious enough to apologize,” Ned replied.
Owen’s jaw tightened. “She shouldn’t have discussed that with other staff members.”
“She didn’t.” The nurse frowned. “I mean, only after someone else spoke about it first. I’m not sure who, to tell you the truth.”
“Then how can you be sure it wasn’t Bailey?”
“She was unhappy that we’d all heard about it.” Ned seemed to be searching his memory. “She mentioned something about the leak having been taken care of. Then she clammed up, which is totally unlike Bailey. Or used to be.”
That left only one other possibility as the source. Annoyed as Owen felt about the receptionist, she was young. He decided to get Bailey’s input before taking any action, since she apparently believed she’d handled the problem.
In any event, he had a decision to make about Ned’s request. Frankly, it struck Owen as a good idea. A male nurse might not be quite as easily wounded as some of the women he’d worked with, and besides, he liked the fellow’s directness.
“How does a three-month trial sound?” he said. “As long as you do your best, I promise not to hold it against you if it doesn’t work out. By then you should have your choice of new physicians.”
Ned let out a long breath. “Thank you, sir.” He got to his feet, as did Owen, and the two shook hands across the desk. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“I appreciate your honesty. In moderation.”
And, Owen mused as the nurse sauntered out with a light step, I also appreciate your telling me about Bailey.
She hadn’t shot off her mouth at his expense. That meant a lot.
BAILEY COULD HAVE SWORN Owen had been paying close attention to her midsection all week. He’d been unusually attentive to her physical needs, too—massaging her shoulders on Thursday after she finished playing the keyboard, and encouraging her to put her feet up when they had a break between patients at the office.
She supposed some men found pregnant women attractive, but she’d picked up enough of his background from Erica to know that his dating choices tended toward sophisticated, high-powered and definitely un-pregnant ladies. As for his being the uncle, he and Boone weren’t exactly close, so why should he care?
That left the possibility that he liked her. Which was really strange, since she was about as far from his usual type as you could get. The whole thing puzzled her and, worse, she couldn’t discuss it with anyone. Not Patty, who was engaged to Owen’s colleague. Besides, she was caught up in the ongoing debate about her wedding plans. Not Nora, because, even had she been here, she could hardly be expected to sympathize with Bailey’s feelings on the subject of Dr. Tartikoff.
Which were…which were…
That she got tingly when he touched her. That she dreamed about floating in the hot tub with a nearly naked Owen, helping him lift her wet T-shirt over her head. That she replayed those dreams while wide-awake and eating a peanut butter sandwich in the office on Friday.
Blame it on the pregnancy hormones. Blame it on the long drought in her love life. Blame it on chemistry.
Bailey used to wish that, once in her life, she could fall completely and deeply in love. She didn’t expect the guy to stick around, and once or twice she’d thought that she might be on the verge of falling in love. But a few tears and a week or so of misery had dispelled all that.
Owen was different. Her feelings scared her. If something happened between them, it would inevitably end badly. He’d go on his way, aloof and in charge and the center of everyone’s attention. As for Bailey’s pathetic excuse for a heart, she could already feel it threatening to betray her.
Well, she’d better whip it into shape, she decided as she finished the sandwich, because here he came, wearing a bemused expression. With an inward sigh, she lowered her feet and brushed the crumbs off the counter of the nurses’ station. Although they didn’t schedule regular patient visits on Friday, Owen reserved time after lunch for those who needed follow-ups or last-minute consults, and the women should be arriving shortly.
“Couple of things,” he said, stopping in front of the station.
With a paper napkin, Bailey took a surreptitious swipe at her mouth and then sneaked a glance at the resulting smear. Darn. Peanut butter and jelly. “Did I miss anything?”
“On your face? No.” Owen cocked his head. “Where’s Caroline?”
Since he’d never so much as pronounced the receptionist’s name in Bailey’s hearing before, this struck her as odd. “She should be here any minute. She
was filling in at Dr. Forrest’s office this morning.”
“She was the one who blabbed about our little squabble on Tuesday, wasn’t she?” he said.
Uh-oh. Since he’d never mentioned the subject, Bailey had hoped he wasn’t aware of the grapevine chatter. “Yes. I reprimanded her. She seemed to understand she’d behaved unprofessionally. Who told you?”
“Process of elimination.”
“The only person you could have eliminated was me,” she said. “What took you so long, and if you were ticked about it, why didn’t you say so?”
He started to laugh. “Isn’t there a limit on how many questions you can ask in one sentence?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
The man was in a remarkably good humor. He should be crabby, considering that as of Monday he’d be without a nurse again. “Spill,” she said.
“I just took on Ned Norwalk as my new nurse.” A grin played around the corners of his mouth as he watched her.
“You what?” Ned would be furious. He might even quit. “Whose big idea was that?”
“Ned’s,” Owen said.
Bailey’s jaw dropped. It irked her to see that Owen was enjoying her reaction, but she didn’t think he was making this up. “And you agreed?”
“He strikes me as competent, and I think he can handle my occasional flare-ups without bursting into tears.”
“If you’re too rough on him, we’ll mock you behind your back,” Bailey warned.
Owen shrugged. “I expect nothing less. Listen, since it’s our last day together, so to speak, stick around after the patients leave. I’ll let Caroline go home early.”
“And?”
“You’re at sixteen weeks,” he said. “Let’s do another ultrasound. If the babies cooperate, we might be able to tell the sex.”
No matter how dubious she felt about the prospect of being alone with him, the opportunity was too good to pass up. “You’re on. And Owen?”
An eyebrow lifted questioningly.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure,” he said.
Not entirely his pleasure, Bailey thought ruefully. Because no matter how hard her brain cried out to be careful, her body ached for the sensual pleasure of his touch as he shared a rare moment of closeness with her and whatever little people lay inside.
Chapter Twelve
Owen was well aware that he’d earned a reputation for being a wizard with unborn babies. Not just in helping women conceive and carry pregnancies, but in dealing with the little tykes themselves. No one understood exactly how it worked, but under his gentle pressure, babies in breech position turned around in time to be delivered safely and obeyed his delicate urging to wriggle the kinks out of umbilical cords. Not always, but often.
He had a theory. He attributed his success to Rodgers and Hammerstein.
Take the twins. They’d grown remarkably in the nearly two weeks since he’d last wanded them, but as their cute little images appeared on the sonogram screen, they were in the wrong position for him to check out their gender. “They could use some encouragement,” he warned Bailey. “Do you mind?”
“Whatever.” She was staring at the screen as if utterly absorbed, but that didn’t account for her rapid breathing.
After seeing a handful of patients and then sending Caroline home early—without any mention of her indiscretion—Owen had checked Bailey’s blood pressure and heartbeat. Nothing wrong there. “I’m going to sing. Any objections?”
“Only if you require accompaniment.”
“Not necessary.” He didn’t sing for many patients. Some women lacked a sense of humor, and some husbands took things the wrong way. But once in a while the babies needed it.
Usually, he encouraged his patients to join him in song, so the baby could feel the vibrations. This time, instead, Owen bent close to Bailey’s abdomen and began to croon the words to “If I Loved You.” With one hand caressing the bulge, he could feel the babies’ rhythms shift, become dreamy. And gradually, as he prodded them, they yielded and rearranged themselves.
Bailey released a sigh. He sensed her heart rate slowing also. How sweet she looked, lying there trustingly, her eyelids half-shut, lost in the moment. Owen nearly forgot the purpose of the sonogram, until he felt another ripple beneath his hand. The natives were getting restless again, the ultrasound showed.
“Okay, little one.” He manipulated the probe until he could plainly see one baby’s shape. “It’s a boy! Hold still now, little guy.” Making sure he had a good view, he saved a shot.
“Both boys?” Bailey asked.
“Don’t know yet.”
“If you take requests, I’d like to hear ‘There Is Nothing Like a Dame,’” she said.
“You think that will help?” Releasing the pressure, Owen sought a different angle while his mind played over what he’d just learned. He was going to have a son. A little boy to tussle with, a young man who’d grow up to chart a worthwhile course through life, like his father.
Like Boone?
The thought jolted Owen. What had he done by donating sperm to his brother? I trusted him to deserve a child, that’s what.
With every passing day, his doubts were growing. He’d heard nothing about his brother returning from that unexplained trip. And Bailey still wasn’t receiving regular medical care.
This little boy might grow up with his father in jail. And an uncle who, he recalled with a twinge of unease, might have helped to put him there.
“What happened to the music?” Bailey prompted.
“Sorry.” But before he could launch into another tune, Baby Boy’s sister presented a clear anatomical image. As he preserved the shot, Owen said, “You got your wish.”
“It’s a girl?” She beamed. “Phyllis will be thrilled.”
“Talked to her lately?” Owen removed the device.
“Not for a few days.” She tensed as if ready to argue, but he busied himself cleaning up.
A girl. They were having a girl, too. Lively and vulnerable like her mother. Owen averted his face to hide the flush of emotions.
He and Bailey ought to be picking out names and making plans. These were their kids, no doubt endowed with musical talents and a sense of humor and…
You can’t keep them. Don’t even think about that. What would he do with kids? Also, the very idea of him and Bailey trying to make a go of a family was preposterous. They couldn’t even share a bathroom without squabbling.
He helped her sit up and wipe off the gel. “You feeling okay?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Normally, Owen would take his leave from a patient at this point. Instead, he slid his arms around Bailey and eased her down from the examining table. Round and solid, she smelled like a whole meadow full of beauty products.
“Don’t you have to rush off somewhere?” She stood close against him in the flimsy gown.
He had emails to return, reports to read, decisions to make. “Not particularly. Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Kind of early.” The wall clock indicated a little past four.
“I never took you for a slave to convention.” He brushed his cheek, bristly with end-of-day stubble, across the top of her head.
“Are we going to play nurse and doctor?” she asked.
“Okay.” He grinned at the notion.
“Which one do you want to be?”
The man who takes you home and keeps you safe. Where had that come from? Owen wondered. He felt tender toward Bailey, and excited to hold her. Was this a reaction to the fact that she was bearing his children? In a phenomenon known as couvade syndrome, dads-to-be experienced pregnancy symptoms such as morning sickness and mood swings. But he didn’t think that was it.
She wriggled out of his arms. “Silly idea.”
“What?” He tried in vain to recall the thread of their conversation.
“Playing nurse and doctor.” She snatched her clothes from a chair. “Time for you to go do w
hatever world-famous doctors do on Friday nights.”
“Eat dinner. Sing duets.”
“Wouldn’t that be a quartet, at this point?” she teased.
“You’re right. I can hear their little voices chorusing, ‘Take me out to Waffle Heaven.’” Having inhaled tantalizing scents drifting across the rear wall of their property for the past three weeks, Owen could resist no longer.
“Oh, waffles! You’re on.” Bailey made shooing motions. “I can’t change with you here! Wait outside.”
“Don’t be long. I missed lunch.” But as he wheeled the sonogram machine out of the room, Owen acknowledged that what he hungered for most wasn’t some confection of fried batter, fruit and whipped cream.
Still, that seemed a good place to start.
BAILEY WAS CONCERNED about ending up in Owen’s bedroom, but she had to risk it. After all, that was the only route to the spa.
Maple syrup—bacon—all sorts of lovely stuff filled her stomach by the time they came home. Inevitably, one of them, or possibly both, seized on the notion of taking a relaxing dip.
She figured they’d be safe as long as she scurried right through on her way outside. And that might have worked, if she’d ever made it that far.
The problem was having to share a bathroom. With doors on either side, it was hard to remember to lock them both, so she walked in on Owen just as he was pulling his skimpy trunks into place over those narrow hips. The sight stopped her cold. She should have retreated. Really, she should have, but there she stood.
Planning to change after she washed up, she’d thrown a short robe over her underpants, loosely belted at the waist. The robe used to be relatively modest in the days before pregnancy swelled her breasts. Now the panels gapped wide above the belt. As she and Owen stood there eyeing each other, their breathing echoing off the walls of the small bathroom, she could feel the belt untying of its own will and the sides of the robe sliding apart.
The instant his hands cupped her breasts and his thumbs made little circles around the nipples, she was lost. By the age of twenty-eight, she ought to know that a man’s distractingly gentle mouth and wonderfully clever tongue promised nothing beyond fleeting pleasure. Actually, Bailey did know that. But as Owen pushed the robe into free fall and drew her against his rock hard body, she didn’t care.
The Surgeon's Surprise Twins Page 11
