“Miss Wayne is an excellent nurse at Safe Harbor,” Owen answered coolly. “She is related to me by marriage, and coincidentally we found ourselves as housemates. There is nothing more to be said.”
Finally, the camera cut back to the studio. Phyllis clicked off the set, which was a relief. Bailey didn’t think she could bear to listen to any smirking chitchat between the anchorpersons.
“I didn’t mean to put you in this position,” Phyllis said.
“I know.” Bailey sank deeper into the sofa. “You just wanted a baby.”
Her sister placed a hand on her wrist. “I still do.”
Miserably, Bailey voiced the doubts that had been assailing her. “They need a stable home. How can you take care of them both? You’re broke, Phyllis. It’ll be like us and Mom, maybe worse. At best, you’ll be on probation, and people will sue you and you’ll be notorious. It’ll be years before you can have a normal life. And taking care of twins is hard on even settled families.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.” Her sister wiggled her toes, as if to dry the polish faster. “You seem kind of attached, too. So why don’t you give me the girl, and you can keep the boy? That way we each get one.”
Bailey felt as if she’d dropped into a bad melodrama. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Children aren’t puppies.” Inside, her little guests chose this inopportune moment to start squirming. “And I’m not a broodmare. Look how big I am already! What do you suppose my life’s going to be like between now and January? I was counting on you to support me, financially and emotionally. If you can’t do that, and I don’t see how, then I’m going to have to make other plans.”
“Other plans?” Phyllis went very hard. “You mean keep them both for yourself.”
“Or find another home for them,” Bailey flared. “One where the parents are ready to commit whatever it takes to raising their children.”
“You and Owen cooked this up.”
“Are you kidding? He barely knows me.”
The weak attempt at humor flew right past Phyllis. “We made a deal. I get my pick of the kids.”
Apparently her sister hadn’t heard a word she’d said, Bailey thought in anguish. “We made a deal for me to bear children for you and Boone, and for the two of you to take responsibility for my prenatal care and for the child or children afterward. You’ve broken that deal so many ways I can’t even count them.”
Phyllis got to her feet. “Get out.”
“What?”
“Out.” Her sister glared. “You’re just in this for what you can get. What is it, Bailey? You think I’ve got some secret stash of money I’m going to hand over to you? Or maybe you can find some rich couple who’ll shower you with gifts so they can adopt my children? Well, I’ve heard enough. Get out of my house.”
How could she think this? Bailey longed to point out how much she loved her sister and that they were family. You can have the babies. Just don’t shut me out.
Except she couldn’t. Because the twins were poking her with their little knees and elbows, reminding her of how helpless and needy they were. Tonight, their so-called father was in prison for being a worthless con man, their real father had practically disowned their mother, and Phyllis was treating them like a litter of prize pooches, up for sale to the highest bidder.
The only person who really cared was Bailey. She had to stand by them.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” With as much dignity as she could manage, she scooted forward on the couch and stood up. “I’ll collect my things.” She’d been staying in the bedroom next to Phyllis’s because being alone in this big house scared her sister. Well, Bailey missed her own bed, even if it was a futon. Oh, heavens. How was she going to go back to sleeping on that?
“Let me know when you change your mind,” Phyllis said.
“Let me know when you’re going to act like a real mother,” Bailey answered, and went to pack.
For the first time in her twenty-eight years, she felt older than her big sister. About a century older.
MUCH AS OWEN LONGED TO put the whole miserable press confrontation out of his mind, Mark Rayburn and Jennifer Martin had other ideas. “It’s important to watch how they edit and treat this on the air,” the public relations director told him.
So they, and from a distance Chandra Yashimoto, suffered through the nine and ten o’clock broadcasts. In the administrator’s spacious office, Owen had to watch impassively as his older brother was manacled and taken into federal custody. Naturally, he joined the others in expressing dismay over Boone’s crimes. Yet a part of him still loved the older brother who’d protected him when he was a kid, the brother he’d always hoped would escape the criminal patterns established by his father.
When Hayden O’Donnell’s segment came on, Owen bristled at the man’s insinuations about Bailey. So did Mark. “A harem? That man’s gone over the edge.”
Jennifer blew out a long breath. “It’s embarrassing, but mostly for Boone. There’s nothing here that puts you in a bad light, Owen.”
“Just be careful,” the vice-president added by teleconference. “Are you still sharing a house with this woman?”
Owen gritted his teeth at the term this woman, but held on to his temper. “Technically, yes, although she’s been staying with her sister.”
“Keep her at arm’s length.” Chandra’s dark hair swung as she nodded emphatically. “Don’t be seen with her in public. Dr. Rayburn, is it true she works at the hospital?”
“She works in Dr. Nora Franco’s medical office,” he clarified.
Owen felt himself go very still. If Chandra tried to get Bailey fired…
“And she’s an outstanding, hardworking nurse,” Mark went on. “As you’ll recall, we have a policy in this hospital of supporting our people even when they make mistakes, as long as there’s no intentional wrongdoing.”
“Certainly.” Chandra didn’t appear mollified, though. “Still, if this woman continues to be a source of embarrassment, it might be time for her to consider going on early maternity leave. Fully paid, of course.”
Owen had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from arguing. He had no right to speak for Bailey.
Fortunately, Mark wasn’t finished. “Whenever Miss Wayne is physically and emotionally ready to start her maternity leave, I’ll be happy to arrange it. And not a day sooner.”
Chandra pressed her lips together. After a moment, she said, “Well, it’s three hours later here, and I’m bushed. I’ll trust you to handle things out there, Mark. You’re the best judge of the situation.”
Once she ended the call, Mark declared himself ready to turn in as well. “We may have to keep dodging bullets, but I hope the focus of attention will remain on your brother, Owen. I’m sorry about him, for your sake.”
“Me, too,” Jennifer added.
“Thanks.” Although he rarely ran out of steam even by 11:00 p.m., tonight Owen felt unaccountably weary. It had been an emotional day. “See you both tomorrow.”
He was getting into his car in the garage when it struck him why he’d had a nagging sense of déjà vu about that scene in Mark’s office. Last December, Dr. Samantha Forrest had let slip to the press prematurely about Owen’s being hired for this position. Since he hadn’t yet revealed that information to his employers in Boston, it had been extremely awkward, and he’d insisted he would turn down the job unless Mark fired her. Despite pressure from above, Mark had stood up for his employee, a quality that Owen admired so much he’d decided to take the job anyway.
Now Dr. Sam—whose sometimes touchy friendship with Mark had blossomed and resulted in a very happy marriage—was one of his favorite people here at Safe Harbor. The fact that, as a pediatrician, she didn’t have to work directly with Owen probably helped their friendship, he admitted with an inward smile as he drove through the quiet streets.
How easy it had seemed last December, with his lofty sense of remoteness, to ima
gine that one could easily control the press. Tonight, Owen had come within a knife’s edge of lambasting O’Donnell on camera. Once your emotions got involved, everything changed.
He’d had half a mind to punch the guy out for that crack about the harem. It irked him that legally he’d be the one guilty of assault—not to mention the risk to his surgeon’s hands—whereas in the old days a gentleman was expected to stand up for a lady’s honor.
The closer Owen drew to the house on the cul de sac, the more he missed Bailey. And the more indignant he became on her behalf. Pregnant because she loved her sister, robbed of the savings that should have upgraded her career to nurse practitioner, and now belittled in the media—how utterly unfair. Why couldn’t everyone see what a shiningly honest soul she was?
The sight of her unassuming compact in the driveway lifted his spirits. To be on the safe side, he glanced around for any sign of the press. No news vans cluttered the curb, and he doubted anyone would bother lurking in the bushes simply to watch him walk into a house where he’d already admitted he lived.
No one approached, and he let himself inside without incident. Everything lay quiet. Bailey’s door was firmly shut, with no light showing beneath.
He knew he ought to mind his own business, but he couldn’t resist opening it to peer in. A small figure lay curled on the futon, lightly covered. Nights tended to be cool this close to the ocean, but pregnant women generated heat. Speaking of her condition, someone ought to buy her a decent bed, or else a crane to help her in and out of this one as she grew bigger.
She didn’t stir.
They had a lot to discuss. Owen wondered if she’d seen him on TV, and what she thought about that.
As he slid the door shut, he told himself they’d talk in the morning. He was looking forward to it.
Chapter Sixteen
The odd sound of a baritone voice singing, “I am sixteen going on seventeen…” in the shower woke Bailey, or perhaps she’d been rising into consciousness and that was simply the final straw. Why was a grown man singing a song written for a teenage girl?
She’d forgotten to wear earplugs. But she doubted that would have helped with him right in the next room.
As August sunlight slanted through the vertical blinds, she registered that she was back in the house on Morningstar Circle. Owen was here too, and in a fine mood.
In the shower, the melody shifted to “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’.” Someone ought to slap that man. No one had a right to be so cheerful at seven o’clock in the morning.
Yet Bailey lay there relishing the deep reverberation of his voice and the sense of his nearness. It occurred to her that making love in the bathroom might have been a mistake, in the sense that she had a hard time putting those vivid scenes out of her mind when she ought to be thinking about ordinary stuff like brushing her teeth or whether she could sneak in there and use the facilities while he was otherwise occupied. She kept thinking about inviting herself into the warm water and his arms…
Except that she couldn’t afford to be blithe, impulsive Bailey any more. Her easygoing nature had landed her in a huge mess and, like it or not, Owen was part of it.
Unhappily, Bailey lay there until the water stopped. She followed the sounds as he dried off and moved away, humming. Finally, she heard his closet door open, which meant the bathroom was free.
With speed born of desperation, Bailey lumbered out of bed, opened the door on her side, stumped across the small bathroom and locked the access to his bedroom. She did the same to hers, for good measure.
“Hey!” came a laughing protest. “Share!”
“You had your turn!”
“I need my blow-dryer. My hair’s going to dry all messed up.”
“Run your fingers through it like any normal guy. Buy an extra brush.” Why was she giving suggestions to a grown man? “Suck it up.”
He laughed.
When Bailey emerged half an hour later, she followed the scent of cinnamon into the kitchen. Two gooey bear claws dripping with sugar and other enticing, health-free enhancements were warming in the toaster oven, while Owen sat drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.
If only the front page hadn’t been staring her in the face, Bailey might have enjoyed a few more minutes before reality intruded. Instead, she had to stomach the sight of Boone’s defiant expression beneath a Fugitive Captured headline.
Owen lowered the paper. He looked nothing like his brother, she reflected. His eyes brimmed with welcome and he gave her an off-center grin. “Welcome home, princess.”
“Better be careful. Someone might see you talking to me.” Bailey hadn’t meant to snap at him. “Tell me one of those pastries is mine and I promise not to bite you at least until I finish eating it.”
“It is. I bought them at the cafeteria last night. Two-for-one because they were past their prime, but the toaster perks them right up.” He transferred them onto plates he’d set out.
“Thanks.” Bailey sat down.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you back?”
“Phyllis is being a jerk.”
“I assumed something of the kind,” he said, and waited.
Bailey relished a long, delicious mouthful before admitting, “She actually proposed that I split up the babies. Give her the girl and keep the boy. As if they were a litter of puppies!”
“Be honest,” Owen said. “If she’d offered to let you keep the girl—”
“Absolutely not!” she flared.
“That was a joke.”
“Not funny.” Glumly, she peered out the window into the side yard. Old gardening tools, a decrepit ladder, a hideous lawn gnome…left by former renters, she presumed. A gorgeous fuchsia hung in a pot, hooked up to the automatic watering system.
“Did you catch me on the news last night?” he asked.
Surely the man didn’t expect praise! “I learned quite a few things,” Bailey said.
“Oh?” He fixed his full attention on her.
“Such as that we hardly know each other.” To her dismay, she felt the sting of tears. What was wrong with her?
“That’s true as far as it goes. We only met a few weeks ago. And that was more or less by accident.”
“In other words, you didn’t choose me.” Bailey took a couple of quick breaths to regain control.
“Choose you for what?”
To be your lover. I was convenient, that’s all. But he’d never said otherwise, had he? Hadn’t made promises or claimed to be in love with her. Hadn’t even bothered to tell her that these babies were his. “Anything.”
“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked.
She was staring out the window, trying not to cry. And getting mad. Why was he torturing her? “I answered your question. Yes, I caught you on the news.”
“You don’t sound like yourself,” Owen said.
Time to quit dodging his gaze. Stiffening her resolve, Bailey faced him. “That’s right. I’ve changed. I’ve become a person who has two children that depend on me and nobody else.”
He laid his hand gently over hers. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”
In her heart, hope stirred, painfully, like blood circulating through a limb that had fallen asleep. “What do you mean?”
“I can help you figure out a plan,” Owen said.
“A plan?”
“Financial arrangements. So you can keep the twins.” He spoke with satisfaction, as if he’d worked everything out.
“I don’t want your money, if that’s what you’re offering,” Bailey snapped, and got to her feet. “These are your kids, but that doesn’t seem to matter to you.”
She couldn’t bear to be around this man for one more minute. He didn’t love her, and he never would. She wasn’t his type, just some woman who’d gotten pregnant with his children through none of his doing. A woman he’d taken to bed since she happened to live in the next room. As far as she could tell, the man didn’t have a heart at all, whereas hers was
aching and throbbing as if it might burst right out of her body any second.
“Don’t be unreasonable,” Owen said. “We have to keep things quiet, at least for now.”
“Don’t worry!” she snapped. “I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m sure we’ve all been publicly humiliated enough to last a lifetime.”
Then she stomped away.
“KEEP HER AT ARM’S LENGTH.”
Yes, he’d done a great job of that, hadn’t he? Owen reflected grimly as he drove to work. Much as he hated seeing Bailey in pain, he hadn’t gone after her. Not that it would have done any good, under the circumstances. Besides, he had surgery scheduled.
He had no idea what he could have said. How to explain, to her or himself, this powerful urge to shelter her and the babies, even though the timing was terrible and he had an overriding responsibility to the hospital’s program.
If Owen publicly revealed his paternity, the scandal would explode far beyond anything he’d imagined previously. With Boone’s arrest making headlines nationally, the press would have a field day. The fallout wouldn’t just tarnish his reputation or hurt Bailey, it would harm a lot of other people, too.
That day, Owen found himself regarding his colleagues in a new light. Erica Benford had moved from Boston to work with him. Alec Denny had relocated his daughter and was planning to marry and settle down, secure in his position as director of laboratories. Jan Garcia had likely given notice at her cryobank in Houston after accepting his job offer. Even Ned Norwalk was turning himself inside out to learn Owen’s preferences and keep his medical office running smoothly.
All these people depended on him, as did the patients who put themselves in his hands. They trusted him and the team he was pulling together to bring their dreams to fruition.
Difficult as it was, he had to hold back. Bailey had friends who’d loved her and cared about her long before Owen came on the scene. In a few months, after the press turned its attention elsewhere, there’d be plenty of time for him to step back into the picture and help her figure out how to proceed with the twins.
The Surgeon's Surprise Twins Page 15
