Windy City Romance: Boxed Set: Prequel - Book III

by Barbara Lohr

  ~.~

  Watching her drive away, Logan wished he’d kissed her silly. But maybe that’s not what she wanted. Sure didn’t seem that way earlier. Why was she pushing him away now? Public displays of affection had never been his thing, but lately he’d changed his mind.

  Now he wanted to be that reckless guy who’d pull a hot redhead into his arms just to taste her plump peach lips again. He didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. So what if his grandfather had founded Montclair. Impulses he’d kept in the neat box of his past were roaring to life. Disturbing but inviting too.

  When he slid into his Porsche, he blasted the air. Damn, his thoughts were making him sweat like he’d just finished a seven-hour surgery.

  Dating again wasn’t easy. Sunday had been fun with McKenna’s family, and he’d had a good time. He’d hung out with guys in college but he’d never run into a family like hers. He wanted to spend more time with her. Was she being cautious because they worked together? He had to respect her for that. Separating their personal lives from their professional positions might be a good idea. But the heat searing his thighs at the thought of her long red hair didn’t agree. Steering wheel warm in his hands, he circled the almost deserted upper level of the parking lot and took the ramp down. He drove slowly to allow McKenna to clear the exit.

  She wanted him to see other women? He didn’t know her game but he was perfectly willing to play.

  For a while, anyway.

  Chapter 7

  The weekend dragged. Taking the trash out Sunday morning, McKenna lingered in the warm breeze. Good grief, and she’d turned down a day on the lake? But she would have been in deep water with Logan. And she wasn’t talking about the wet kind.

  Although she was on call, her darn phone didn’t ring. Any of her siblings would have welcomed her call, but then her brothers would ask questions about Logan. McKenna didn’t want to go there. She called her sister Harper and they caught up. Harper’s life in Savannah was always interesting. McKenna loved to hear Harper’s stories and her hearty laugh. After they ended the call, McKenna drifted outside to garden.

  Breathing in the sweet scent of soil, she spent the afternoon planting zinnias and geraniums in the postage stamp back yard. Then she filled her multiple bird feeders while the robins and cardinals twittered with approval from the branches of a tall oak.

  Cripes, it was hot in the apartment when she went back inside. Her T-shirt felt glued to her back and she splashed her face with cool water. Then she turned her air conditioning up, thoughts drifting back to Logan. Had he invited Priscilla on his boat? McKenna’s chest constricted at the thought of the Blonde Bombshell’s hair blowing in the breezes of Lake Michigan. Maybe she was wearing a small blue bikini. Maybe Logan was helping her apply sun lotion. Maybe McKenna needed to have her head examined.

  An imagination can sure make a girl miserable.

  She hauled out her waffle maker.

  Thank goodness she’d picked up strawberries on Saturday. Five o’clock was not too early for dinner in her book. Not after a long day full of self reproach. Crisp on the outside and buttermilk soft inside, her waffles turned out perfect. She drizzled warm maple syrup over pads of butter and heaped the sliced berries on top. Still not satisfied, McKenna nuked a jar of her favorite chocolate sauce and added it to her concoction. You can never have too much of a good thing.

  Watching “Downton Abbey” re-runs that night, she reminded herself that this boring weekend had been the safest course. Hadn’t she worked this all out in her mind? She reached for her reasoning.

  Truth was, she had a short memory when it came to Logan.

  When Monday morning came, she rolled out of bed, sleepless and ornery as heck. At the office, the lights on the main phone were blinking like crazy. Luckily, Dorothy had it all under control. Hot weather brought on dehydration that could cause expectant mothers all kinds of problems. McKenna swept through the waiting room and plodded back to her office at the end of the hall.

  By noon, she’d fielded her third call from a patient complaining of dizziness. “How many times do we tell them to drink more fluids when the temperature spikes?” McKenna fretted to Selena.

  “They’re tired of peeing all the time,” Selena commented while she charted. “I totally get that.”

  “Can’t Marketing print up something for the education packets and add the information to the website?” McKenna combed one hand through her hair. The office was closed for lunch. Bethany, Lucy and Dorothy were eating in the break room, their giggles traveling down the hallway.

  “How was your weekend?” Selena asked, closing out of the document. “Any action with your Hot Doc?”

  Head down, McKenna kept leafing through her phone messages. “Had a great time. I, ah, gardened and straightened up my kitchen.”

  Selena shoved her chair back from the desk and it crashed into the file cabinets behind them. “Are you kidding me? After the way that man looked at you that Sunday?”

  “I told him no.”

  “To what?”

  “Sailing on his boat.” McKenna stashed the pink phone slips into the pocket of her lab coat. “What do I know about sailing?”

  “Are you out of your mind? Why did you say no?” Blowing out a breath, Selena looked ready to commit McKenna to their psych ward.

  Sliding the glass window aside, McKenna stuck her head out and checked the waiting area. Empty. She closed the glass. “I’m putting some distance between us.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about my sanity. After Nick I’d like to go slow. Friends first, all that stuff.”

  Selena was seething. “Let’s get some lunch. Obviously, your brain needs food.”

  Minutes later, they were headed for the overpass connecting the Medical Office Building to the main hospital. Below them, a siren shrieked, red lights flashing as the ambulance barreled toward the ER.

  “Look, Marketing’s new campaign.” Selena stopped to admire the giant size posters displayed along the walkway. “Let Our Team be Your Team. Not bad.”

  “Wouldn’t you know.” McKenna came to a halt and balled her hands on her hips. One of the posters featured OB and Logan. Leaning against his desk with a disarming smile, Logan looked hot as all get out.

  Impressively professional.

  Devastatingly handsome.

  The knot in McKenna’s stomach cinched tighter.

  Turning to McKenna, Selena pointed. “Take a good look at the guy you blew off.”

  “Button it up, girlfriend. Not backing down on this.” With a shrug, McKenna resumed her walk, Selena galloping to catch up with her.

  Conversation bubbled through the open doors when they neared the cafeteria. After grabbing trays and utensils, they headed to the salad bar. At one end of the long narrow eating area, volunteers were clustered in their pink jackets, silver heads bobbing as they visited with each other. TV sets with closed captioning were mounted strategically, giving employees access to the news or pro sports. Administrators were scattered among the tables of employees. The policy at Montclair was to mingle and stay in touch with the employees. Most visiting families chose to eat in the Atrium Café on the first floor.

  Warren was seated with some of the Imaging Department staff, nodding as he listened. McKenna wondered what the radiologists thought about bringing more imaging equipment into the OR. This group could be pretty territorial. Logan had been here long enough to be aware of hospital politics. Still, he might be the type who forged ahead, no matter what people thought. She had to admire him for that.

  When they passed his table Warren glanced up. “McKenna, how’s that OB committee coming?”

  “Great. We should be ready for the Board Meeting.” She wasn’t about to mention that they hadn’t reached consensus. Let Logan be the bearer of that news.

  When they sat down at an empty table, Selena glanced over at McKenna’s plate and sputtered. “That's not lunch. That's a food tasting.”

  “I’m not tha
t hungry. Must be the heat.” Two tablespoons of broccoli salad, four grapes and some big chunks of watermelon were about all she could stomach. “Besides, I’m trying to lose weight.”

  “So, what’s on your schedule?” Selena asked. “I mean, after you shake off whatever’s bothering you.”

  “Preparing for my childbirth class after I finish clinic.” She thought back to last Wednesday’s class. “Selena, do you know a patient named Angie Dowd?”

  “Sure do. Came through the Healthy Start Program.” Montclair had a partnership with Chicago’s Healthy Start Program for mothers without insurance or other resources.

  “And?” McKenna pressed her.

  “Got a funny feeling about that girl. Okay, she's young to have a baby, eighteen or nineteen, but that’s not unusual with Healthy Start. Probably has a job in some store on Halsted Street. Just getting by or living with her folks. But most moms are happy, even when they’re strapped for cash. Not Angie. Why are you asking?”

  McKenna shrugged. “It's just that she didn't have a partner when she came to the first class, not even a relative or friend. And I agree, she seems kind of sad.”

  Dangling her fork in one hand, Selena nodded. “Yeah, well, you always seem to have a sixth sense about people. Let’s keep an eye on her.”

  For a few seconds, they ate in silence. Then, eyes sparkling, Selena leaned across the table. “Back to Hot Doc. Is he going with us to Guatemala? Or is he too damn picky?”

  “Haven't got a clue. You’ll have to talk to him, but go easy.” McKenna’s cheeks were probably as pink as the watermelon she’d just eaten. After asking Logan to help Amanda, she wasn’t going to badger him about Midwives in Action.

  Spearing a piece of pineapple, Selena gave her a cheeky grin. “We could use a doc on that trip. Gary and Eric both have family commitments on one of the weekends, so they have to stay local.”

  McKenna huffed out an impatient sigh. “Isn’t there anyone else? I’m not crazy about having Hot Doc in the hammock next to me, although we need a physician. We could run into trouble like last year.”

  Selena nodded. “Amazing how far some of the women walk to get to us. Kills me to send them home without resolving their problem.”

  “Remember Sarita last year? We were lucky to get her into a hospital in time but that was…” Then she saw them. Logan escorting Priscilla Preston into the physicians’ cafeteria, totally engrossed.

  “What are you staring at?”

  “Hot Doc. And I am not staring.” She dropped her eyes.

  Selena glanced over her shoulder. “Girl, you have to stake your claim.”

  “Not going to happen. I’m all aboard the buddy train, remember?”

  Selena snorted.

  Just then Jack Frazier stopped at their table. “Glad I ran into you, McKenna. The blog on delivering twins brought in a lot of traffic to the website. What's your suggestion for this week?”

  “Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry, but I’m slammed.” She pitched her fork onto her empty plate.

  “You mind if I take this one?” Selena asked Jack. “Women need to read about hydrating during hot weather.”

  “We warn them, but they're just not getting the message,” McKenna agreed.

  “Sounds like a winner. Thanks, Selena.” With a wave, Jack went on his way.

  McKenna eyed the closed door of the physicians’ inner sanctum. She shouldn’t feel like body checking Priscilla every time she saw her with Logan. Had to work on this.

  ~.~

  As the week unfolded, McKenna didn’t bump into Logan—not in the parking garage, not in the medical building. Relieved? Definitely. Frustrated? That too. The OB committee continued to piece together a presentation for the Board. Throughout the meeting, Logan was crisp and efficient, Priscilla at his elbow, leaning close as if she could not hear him unless they were breathing the same air.

  Friend. Colleague. McKenna tried to keep those words front and center while she watched the two. Wasn’t easy.

  When the meeting wrapped up and people scattered, McKenna hoofed it toward the cafeteria, desperate for a cup of mocha coffee sold in the coffee machine. While she was inhaling the frothy liquid filling the styrofoam cup, she looked up to find Priscilla bearing down on her.

  “Hey, how it going?” McKenna lifted the cup to her lips and yelped when she burned her tongue.

  “You okay?” Priscilla’s lips curled, like she was almost enjoying this.

  “Fine, just fine.” McKenna blew onto the surface of the coffee while her tongue throbbed. “So you’re settling in?”

  “Sure are. Thanks for asking.” Priscilla looked tired this morning, eyes shadowed as she pondered the selections. Must be difficult to be a single mother and McKenna wondered what her story was.

  “Bet your parents are happy to have their granddaughters around.”

  “Thrilled, although it’s temporary until I find my own place.” Priscilla fingered a wisp of hair behind her ear. “So much has changed since I lived here years ago. Guess it will take time.”

  “Logan can probably help with that.” McKenna could almost hear Selena, Vanessa and Amy hissing at her.

  Priscilla’s head did a slow swivel. “You think? I hate to impose on him.”

  Ah, hah. So he hadn’t taken Priscilla sailing. Yet.

  McKenna battled the surge of relief into submission and cleared her throat. “No really. He has a boat and golfs, or so I’ve heard. Probably be thrilled to show you around.” She could tell the idea was getting some traction with Priscilla.

  “From what my parents tell me, he might need to get out more,” Priscilla said slowly, her voice gaining assurance. “After all, our families are old friends. What would make more sense, right?”

  Done. “Yep, exactly.”

  Priscilla’s eyes flicked over. “So kind of you to call that to my attention, McKenna. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Gotta run.” Sprinting toward the door, McKenna left Priscilla standing at the coffee machine, studying her own reflection in the stainless steel surface. As she hoofed it back to her office, her clogs were whisper soft on the tiles, unlike her chattering mind.

  She thought she’d feel better about this.

  ~.~

  On Wednesday night, McKenna’s natural childbirth class focused on deep breathing. Once again, Angie Dowd showed up alone. Her big plaid shirt might hide her growing tummy but her legs and arms were stick-thin. How could Angie stand that heavy shirt in this heat? At the end of the girl’s spindly legs were worn tennis shoes with laces not tied—a real safety hazard for an expectant mother and one of McKenna’s pet peeves. As it turned out, Angie was the only one without a partner that night.

  “Remember, coaches. Mom is going to have a lot on her mind when she goes into labor,” McKenna emphasized before they started the drill. “You're the one who has to encourage her to take a deep cleansing breath when she needs it.”

  Angie looked lost, and McKenna sidled over to her. “Want me to be your partner tonight?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  McKenna slid down behind her. The girl felt like she was made of matchsticks.

  “Draw in that air,” she coached Angie and the class. “Picture yourself pulling oxygen right down to your tummy.”

  The entire room inhaled—except for Angie. Her shallow breaths barely raised her shoulders.

  “You okay?” Peeking around Angie’s shoulder, McKenna got a glimpse of one cheek. She froze. The unkempt shanks of Angie's hair didn’t quite cover the purple bruise.

  She couldn’t let Angie know anything was wrong. “A little deeper, Angie. Picture drawing the air into the bottom of your stomach.” While Angie sucked in a mouthful of air, McKenna’s eyes blurred. Squeezing the girl’s shoulders, she leapt up to circle the room, coaching the couples on the floor and trying to control her anger.

  No way was she going to ignore this. Later, she’d talk to Angie. But what would she say?

  When the lesson ended, the coaches dragged th
e mats to the pile in the corner. Clutching the latest handouts, women shuffled out the door with that wide pregnant gait. Angie lagged behind, the last one at the back door.

  “Angie, could I talk to you for a minute?” The girl’s brown eyes darkened to stone as McKenna approached. “Everything okay? You’re kind of quiet tonight.”

  “I’m fine.” Shifting from one foot to the other, Angie rolled her handouts into a tight cylinder. “I'm only coming here because it's free, you know, so I can do this on my own.”

  “Do this on your own? I don’t follow you.”

  “Hospitals and doctors and stuff—they all cost money, right? Don’t got none.”

  “So, you're thinking you'll do…what on your own? Not sure I understand.”

  Hands on hips, Angie faced her. “Have the baby.” The choked words negated her bold stance.

  McKenna’s heart squeezed. She wanted to take Angie home, give her a bath and a good meal. “Do you mean that you plan to have your baby at home?”

  “Maybe.”

  “That's always an option. In fact, my mother had all seven of us at home.”

  Angie's face brightened, making her almost pretty. “She did that all alone?”

  McKenna nodded. “Sure did, but a midwife helped her.”

  The girl swallowed hard. “Maybe she didn't have any other way to do it. Some people don't, you know.”

  “Do you plan to keep the baby, Angie?” she asked gently.

  The girl's face deflated like a pricked balloon. “Haven’t decided. Not yet, anyway.”

  “We have social workers on staff. Would you like to talk to one?” Each word felt like walking across a mine field.

  Angie edged toward the door. “No reason for that.”

  “It's free.” She could not lose this girl.

  The conversation had turned into a stare-down.

  Sometimes McKenna just could not let things go. “Angie, how’d you get that bruise on your cheek?” she asked softly.

  The girl jerked back, distrust curling one lip. Then she pulled a hunk of hair over the purple stain. “Ran into a kitchen cupboard. I’m so clumsy. A clumsy girl. My…mother always says so. Gotta go.”