“Impressive,” Paige said. “Thanks.”
“I consider policing the grounds part of my duties as a tenant,” Mike told her as they went inside.
“Good to remember. I’ll be sure to put it in the lease.” Not that she’d given him a lease, although no doubt she ought to.
In the living room, Paige collapsed onto the couch. “Rough day,” she explained. “Usually I prefer to fight my own battles, but I’m glad you were there.”
“So am I.” He stowed his laptop case in a corner, shrugged off his jacket and dropped into an oversize chair. The open collar of his blue shirt revealed a lightly tanned throat and shadowed jawline. “Seems to me men and women tend to complement each other. Different talents, different strengths. Dividing up the responsibilities makes life easier.”
“He-men take out the trash and bonk the burglars, and she-women wear frilly aprons and knead the bread dough?” Paige asked warily.
Her parents had divided up their responsibilities, but it had come at the price of her mother’s avocation as a photographer. Birdy—a nickname she’d preferred to her real name, Bertha—had quit shooting family events in deference to her husband, who liked being in charge of picture-taking. The result was scrapbooks full of poorly composed and over- or underexposed photos that even computer software couldn’t fix.
“I’ve got a woman detective who can bonk burglars with the best of them. But I don’t object to frilly aprons, with as little as possible underneath.” Mike tilted his head as if awaiting Paige’s riposte.
Once, she might have bristled. Instead, she chuckled. “You’re irrepressible.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Depends on my mood.” She fixed him with what she hoped was a piercing look. “And don’t tell me women are moody.”
“No more than men,” he agreed. “It’s fine to get angry as long as you’re up front about it. What I can’t stand is the way my ex-wife hid her anger, then did sneaky things to get back at me.”
“For instance?”
“Claiming she’d bought something I needed at the store and then, when it was too late for me to stop off on the way home, suddenly claiming she forgot.”
“That’s petty,” she said.
“And she cheated on me,” he added sardonically.
With a man who doesn’t come close to measuring up to you, as far as I can tell. “Which was worse?” Paige asked, only half joking.
“Running out of potato chips.” He gave a dry laugh. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Anything interesting happen today?”
“The doctor I’m filling in for asked me to buy a partnership in the practice.” She described Nora’s offer. “It’s tempting but every time I started to say yes, I felt this wall of resistance. I’m not sure why.”
“Owning your own business is a big step.” Mike rose from the chair. “Before we go into that topic, care for something to drink? There’s wine.”
Delicious as that might taste, alcohol could harm her baby. “Orange juice would be great.”
“You got it.” He returned a minute later with the refreshing drink, and sat down to discuss the pros and cons of business ownership. Mike offered insight from experience, especially about the curse of red tape. Nevertheless, according to him, being your own boss more than outweighed the downside.
Paige had missed having a sounding board, she realized. Whenever something was weighing on her mind, Aunt Bree used to listen and offer feedback. Sometimes, the mere act of airing her thoughts aloud made the right choice obvious.
While she wasn’t ready to make a decision in this instance, Mike’s responses helped clarify her thinking. Yes, she wanted to buy into the practice, except for one problem. She longed to provide her baby with a large, loving family, and that meant moving back to Texas.
Warm, smothering family. Lots of love, lots of advice and lots of interference. But Paige had been gone for years except for brief visits. Perhaps old relationships could be reestablished on a fresh basis.
That would require leaving this delightful house with its precious memories, along with her friends and patients at Safe Harbor. Paige wished she could talk this part over with Mike, too, but that would require disclosing her pregnancy. And while she had to tell him soon, not tonight.
“I’d be happy to refer you to my lawyer and accountant,” Mike was saying. “It’s a good idea to have an independent eye review the paperwork.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll email the information to you tomorrow.”
“Great.” Paige sprang up to put their glasses in the sink, and discovered that she didn’t feel tired anymore. “How about a swim?”
He glanced toward the window. “It’s getting dark.”
“All the more fun. I don’t dare swim at night by myself.” The ocean presented challenges that even on a routine day ranged from undercurrents to jellyfish, and the city’s lifeguards knocked off at five.
“Oh, danger!” Mike said cheerily. “What are we waiting for?”
She should have known he’d go for the daredevil aspect. “Last one into the water has to fix breakfast.”
“With our clothes on?” He sounded ready to go for it.
“After we’ve changed.” Laughing, Paige headed for her bedroom.
Stripping off her work clothes, she tied on the daring emerald bikini that had made such an impression on Mike the last time he saw it. Pausing to examine her long, slim figure in the mirror, she saw no sign yet of a bulge. Might as well wear the bikini while she could.
She slung a thin strap around her waist, holding a watertight pouch for her key and ID. From the hall linen closet, she grabbed a couple of large towels and hurried into the living room. Mike hovered near the front door, his strong body bare above a pair of red trunks. Heat invaded Paige as she took in his toned chest and narrow waist. To cover her reaction, she tossed him a towel. “That’s for you.”
He slung it over his shoulders. “Thanks. I figured I’d air-dry on the walk home, but this is better.”
When she opened the door, her hot body relished the coolness. “That feels good.”
Mike waited while she set the alarm and locked the door. Then he raised his towel like a banner. “Waffles and scrambled eggs. That’s what I’d like when you cook my breakfast.” Off he shot.
Paige flew forward, glad she’d worn sneakers. Her muscles relished the challenge, and even though Mike had a brief head start, she caught up with him at the intersection with Seaside Lane as he waited for a truck to pass.
They crossed to the beach, empty now of the day’s sunbathers. Ahead, a lingering sunset layered the heavens with cerise and gold against deepening blue. Feeling as if she could fly into that gorgeous sky, Paige pelted over the sand, barely pausing to kick off her shoes and pitch her towel in a heap.
The prospect of beating Mike to the water energized her. While he had the advantage of longer legs, she had more experience gaining traction in the sand, and splashed into the swirl of tidewater first.
“Beatcha!” Paige called, pressing forward through the cool water. As the sand sloped underfoot, she took off swimming.
“Worth it!” Mike cut through a low swell to arrive beside her. “You look great from the back.”
“Waffles, eggs and sausage!” she returned, and dove into an oncoming wave.
In the silence beneath the water, she lost track of Mike until he cut under her and surfaced, lifting her on his back and tumbling her into the water again. Paige doubled around like a playful seal and pushed him. Their hips grazed and their legs tangled, and then she swam off. He caught up easily and bumped her in turn.
The next thing she knew, they were somersaulting through the waves, tickling and rolling over each other. His movements adap
ted easily to hers, as if he could read her intentions, but she got in her share of bumps and nudges.
During a glancing frontal contact, there was no mistaking a hard masculine part of him. Paige knew she ought to quit now, but as her feet found the shallow sandy floor, she couldn’t resist running her hands over the toned muscles on Mike’s chest. She registered every taut fiber of him as his arms captured her waist and his mouth relished hers. Pressing into him, her breasts felt on fire, while her core ached for fulfillment.
Stepping away, Paige struggled to catch her breath. “Maybe we’d better take this indoors.”
“My thought exactly.”
He drew her out of the surf. Without speaking, they collected their towels and sandals.
This was Mike, the man who for an entire year she’d considered too macho and rough-edged. Suddenly, Paige was sharing her house with him, and now…
She refused to think beyond the moment. Everything in her cried out for satisfaction, and why not?
She made her own decisions and took the consequences. Right now, Paige wanted the pure joy of being held and loved, even though it couldn’t last.
She strode home beside Mike, covering the ground almost as fast as when they’d been racing.
* * *
FOR MONTHS, MIKE HAD BEEN fantasizing about Paige. Given her stubborn independence, he’d figured she would be the one to call it quits tonight when they started getting physical. Instead, she seemed eager and willing as they paced up the sidewalk to her cottage.
Terrific. He’d been ready for an entire year.
If a few concerns tried to raise their ugly heads—pesky reminders of how mismatched expectations and conflicting dreams could wreck relationships—he hammered them down. Let the future take care of its damn self.
How could he resist toweling off her long thick hair, dark auburn and shiny with dampness? In the living room, Mike drew the towel around them both, smoothing the long, plush lines of her waist and breasts, lifting off that sexy bikini top and rubbing the towel across her erect nipples.
Paige hooked her thumbs into the waist of his trunks and tugged him to her bedroom. He’d imagined this scene a hundred different ways this past week, but the reality was unbelievably superior. The velvet of her skin. The hunger in her mouth. The tantalizing light in her eyes as she lowered the trunks over his hips.
Mike had to rein in his need while he retrieved a condom from his room. Returning to find that she’d tossed aside the blue quilt, he drew on the protection, fumbling a couple of times until she reached over and smoothed it on with the skilled fingers of a surgeon.
Heart thundering, he untied the strip of bikini that guarded her secrets. She was beautiful everywhere, just as he’d pictured her. Lowering Paige to the bed, he savored the moment, arousing her with his mouth until she caught his shoulders and pulled him onto her. Even then, he struggled to enter her cautiously until fire flashed over him and seared away all restraint.
Glory raging through him, Mike drove into her, treasuring her gasps of desire, until he stopped to catch his breath. In a flash, Paige rolled him over and took him in her own fashion, breasts and stomach shining with moisture. They tussled again as they had in the surf, tumbling and thrusting, waves washing over and through him until Mike forgot everything except the thrilling crest of pleasure.
As joy faded to a glow, he lay beside her, astonished. Mike had never lost control before, never lost the awareness of himself as a separate being. Not like this.
Drawing the covers over them, Paige rested her cheek on his shoulder. Damp hair brushed his neck. “That was incredible.”
“For me, too.” Holding her, Mike relaxed into the memory of all that splendor. He’d like to do it again, soon.
Despite his intention, his body seemed content to lie here peacefully beside her. After a while, her steady breathing told him she’d drifted into sleep.
Mike wasn’t ready to doze off. He had computer work to do, and needed to set his alarm to get to work in the morning. Reluctantly, he eased away, careful not to disturb Paige.
How splendid she looked, the covers revealing a generous expanse of hair and breasts. He’d been a little concerned that if they became lovers, living together might throw them too much in each other’s way. But he’d run that risk, gladly.
Humming under his breath, Mike went to take a shower.
* * *
PAIGE COULD HARDLY BELIEVE they’d made love in Bree’s bedroom. Yet the glimmer of purple glass on the bureau seemed to say that her aunt approved. After all, Bree had been no prude.
Although she missed waking up beside Mike, he was only down the hall, and later that night, they made love again. For the next few weeks, they continued to explore each other whenever the pair of them had a few hours free at the same time. Sometimes they used his bed, and once the living room sofa, but that proved too cramped, given their heights.
It was fun having him to play with, to share experiences, to take walks on the beach. Evening swims became a regular indulgence to wash off the cares of the day before plunging happily into their private intimacy.
Every now and then, Paige reminded herself that she ought to tell him about the pregnancy, but what was the rush? Her first prenatal checkup found everything progressing normally, and morning sickness hadn’t troubled her as much as it did some patients.
While she’d gained a few pounds, Mike didn’t seem to notice. No one else at work knew, either, except for Dr. Rayburn, his nurse Lori and Nora, who dropped by occasionally to ease her transition to work. She didn’t press the partnership issue, thank goodness.
You can’t go on keeping secrets. One world with Mike, another shared with the tiny creature inside her body as it took shape millimeter by millimeter, and then her public persona as a take-charge physician serving her patients. The worlds were bound to collide and Paige intended to soften the impact before it happened.
A deadline presented itself: his family’s upcoming beach picnic to celebrate Independence Day. Paige didn’t want to risk being outed by some sharp-eyed family member, such as Mike’s mother, who’d experienced two pregnancies of her own, or perhaps Erica, who might get suspicious after seeing Paige in a swimsuit. Even a subtle disguise such as a one-piece instead of the bikini was likely to raise questions from Mike.
She meant to break the news the weekend before the holiday, but he had to put in extra-long hours on a case. Seeing his exhaustion when he arrived home, Paige shied away from holding such a serious conversation. Before Saturday, I’ll find the time.
On Tuesday morning, however, she put her personal concerns aside while performing a tubal anastomosis on a woman to reopen her fallopian tubes. The patient had undergone surgical sterilization during a previous marriage, and now needed to have it reversed to start a family with her second husband.
Dr. Tartikoff had taught Paige the microsurgical procedure. It required a special microscope and tools that enabled her to use extremely tiny stitches to hold the reconnected tissues.
“You’re getting damn good at that,” said Dr. Zack Sargent, who’d asked to assist her. A couple of new surgical fellows took up most of Dr. T’s teaching time these days, leaving other doctors to coach each other on the procedures they’d learned.
“Thanks. She has two boys and longs for a girl, and her husband would be thrilled either way,” Paige remarked as she worked. “So, what’s up with your plans for a fertility scholarship? Are most of the doctors on board?”
“Hard to tell. That hundred thousand dollars is a big deal and most of them don’t want to commit with nearly six months to go.” Zack’s discouraged expression drew a sympathetic glance from surgical nurse Stacy Raditch, a sweet young woman who made no secret of her attraction to the broad-shouldered widower. Zack never seemed to notice the longing gazes that followed him even in
unflattering operating scrubs with a cap covering his thick dark-blond hair. Paige, while she liked her fellow obstetrician, found him too earnest for her taste.
“How’re you doing in the race so far?” A chart in the doctors’ lounge tracked the number of qualifying pregnancies attributed to each physician. Paige hadn’t paid much attention, since she had little prospect of winning, but she’d noticed Dr. Tartikoff and Dr. Rayburn tied for the lead.
“Middling,” he replied. “But that should change once the egg donor program takes off. I’ve concentrated my efforts on refining the techniques for harvesting eggs and transferring embryos.” Due to Zack’s enthusiasm for the planned program, Dr. T had agreed to let him work closely with the new director once she arrived.
“Any word on when Ms. Garcia will get here?” Dr. Tartikoff had hired an administrative nurse he’d formerly worked with in Boston. Jan Rios Garcia, who had a master’s in molecular genetics, was now assistant director of an egg donor program in Houston. Her arrival had been delayed by contractual obligations.
“Latest word is September.” Zack broke off to pose a question about the current procedure, which Paige answered in detail, since she was teaching him as well as performing the operation.
“Didn’t Ms. Garcia used to work in L.A.?” Stacy asked when silence fell again. “I heard there was some problem at the hospital there.”
Zack narrowed his eyes at her. “Let’s keep gossip out of it.”
The nurse blinked in surprise at his sharp tone. “Sorry, Doctor.” She lowered her head as if hiding tears.
Zack’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to snap. The truth is, I used to work with Jan. In fact, since it’s bound to come out, we were engaged. I made the mistake of believing some unfounded accusations that were made against her. By the time I learned the truth, it was too late.” He paused and for a moment Paige thought he might disclose more, but all he said was, “That was a long time ago. I’m hoping we can work together smoothly.”
“Surely she wouldn’t have accepted this position if she felt uncomfortable being around you,” Paige pointed out.
SH Medical 08 - The Baby Dilemma Page 11
