Doctor Daddy

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “I know I can count on you,” he told her. To Sean, he explained, “In med school, when the rest of us were freaking out about exams, she always kept us focused.” Late-afternoon sunlight softened the chiseled planes of his face and the slight crookedness of his nose. An old football injury, she recalled.

  “Jane’s not only one of the best doctors around, she’s also a font of wisdom on all sorts of subjects,” Sean remarked. “Did you realize she worked her way through college as a nanny?”

  “Before medical school,” Jane added in response to Luke’s puzzled expression. As a med student, she’d found hospital-related jobs.

  She’d never mentioned being a nanny because there’d been a subtle jockeying for status among the future doctors. Many had come from wealthy or professional families, and being the daughter of a truck driver had already put Jane at a disadvantage.

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a good way to learn about mothers and their needs.”

  “It was.”

  Sean went on praising his partner. “And she knows practically everything about Brea. She’s a great resource.”

  “As a matter of fact—” Luke’s velvet gaze fixed on Jane “—I need to find a rental, and Sean’s apartment is a bit small. Any suggestions?”

  “You should talk to Oliver Armstrong at Archway Real Estate.” Oliver and his wife, Brooke, lived next door to Jane and had become close friends. “The last I heard, he was looking to rent a condo he owns about a mile from here.”

  The unit lay within walking distance of shops, cinemas and a comedy club. It ought to be perfect for a bachelor who entertained hot-and-cold-running women. Make that hot, exclusively.

  Unless Luke was married. To her annoyance, she had to fight not to glance at his left hand. But then, Edda had already mentioned he didn’t wear a ring.

  “Archway Real Estate,” he repeated. “I’ll get in touch.”

  They shook hands and Jane went to her office. Since it was after five, she dictated her notes quickly and departed.

  As she drove the short distance to her Harmony Circle neighborhood, her thoughts sparked against each other. Unbelievable. Luke the Duke, as the female med students used to call him, was going to be her partner.

  She intended to take the situation in stride. But right now, she wasn’t sure whether that meant walking sedately, loping for an exit or running for her life.

  Chapter Two

  “You should confide in her,” Sean told Luke when they were alone. “I can’t imagine anyone more trustworthy than Jane.”

  “I will, eventually. It’s not as if Zoey’s a secret.” Luke tried not to be too obvious as he scanned the small office that, in a couple of weeks, would be his. There was barely room for a desk, a couple of chairs and a small couch. He’d have to leave half his medical books at home, he calculated, but then, it was easier to consult references via computer, anyway. Harder to leave behind were some clinical trials he’d had to withdraw from, although fortunately he’d found another doctor to continue his work uninterrupted. “I just want to be discreet while I sort things out.”

  “I got it.” Sean flashed him a grin. “Hey, I bet you’re a great dad.”

  “I’m trying to be.” Luke didn’t care to elaborate. His cousin meant well, but although only two years younger, the guy still radiated innocent eagerness. For Luke, life had become much more complicated.

  Once upon a time, he too had brimmed with optimism. Unlike Sean, though, he’d been self-absorbed and cocky. Well, life had taught him a few lessons.

  During his residency, Luke had dated Pauline Rogers, a vivacious singer. He’d enjoyed her energy and zest, and basked in the reflected limelight during her performances at L.A. clubs.

  Then she got pregnant. Although neither of them felt ready for marriage, they’d said their vows and done their best to make things work. After the birth of their little girl, Luke—exhausted from long hours at the hospital—never realized how much his wife chafed at taking a break from her career. He’d come home with only enough energy to cuddle their daughter briefly before collapsing into bed.

  They’d divorced three years ago. Luke had fought for custody, but the judge had sided with the mother, taking into account Luke’s long hours at work. Pauline had assured the court that she only toured for a month out of the year and that she arranged for a nanny to go with her.

  That situation had changed as soon as she won. Luke would have renewed the fight, but it had become clear the battle was distressing Zoey, who’d begun wetting the bed and losing weight. As a physician, let alone as a father, he put her health first.

  Still, technically, he and Pauline shared custody. And the first two years, she really had only traveled for a couple of months. Then her schedule picked up, resulting in lengthy separations from his daughter and unsatisfactory attempts at homeschooling on Pauline’s part.

  A few months ago, just when Luke was ready to go back to court, she’d joined a new band and started a relationship with the lead guitarist, who didn’t seem fond of children. Plus, at age seven, Zoey clearly needed stability and regular lessons.

  To avoid another legal battle, they’d agreed to let Pauline’s mother, who lived in the Orange County city of Fullerton, care for the little girl while her daughter went on tour. Although Luke considered this only a temporary compromise, he was glad to resume regular visitation, and made the hour-long drive from L.A. every weekend.

  When he learned of Sean’s good news, Luke had seized the chance to move to Brea, just a few minutes from Fullerton. Nothing was more precious than a closer relationship with his daughter, not even his dream of helping save more lives through research. Spending a year in a small-town practice was worth the sacrifice and, eventually, he’d be able to show a judge he was the more committed parent.

  Now he thanked his cousin and walked to his car. A rental one mile away sounded ideal.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted a condo, though. A house would be better, in an area with other children, since he intended for Zoey to start spending weekends with him. He’d give this guy Oliver a call tomorrow and find out what else was available.

  If Jane McKay recommended him, he had to be reliable. You could count on Jane for good advice.

  He regretted their estrangement that last year of medical school, when she drew away emotionally after they made love. He’d missed her intensely, and in some ways still did. Damn, she was more appealing than ever, but he’d learned his lesson.

  If he valued Jane McKay as a friend, and he truly did, he’d better respect her boundaries. Besides, his effort to grow closer to his daughter took first priority.

  ON A SATURDAY two weeks later, Jane set out for a walk with her mixed-breed spaniel, Stopgap. She’d picked that name because she’d imagined the pooch as a fill-in friend until she married and had children. After that, she’d vaguely pictured him shepherding her kids like Nana, the dog in Peter Pan.

  He’d been with her nearly four years. Maybe she should have named him Everlasting. He’d certainly outstayed all the men she’d dated, none of whom came close to winning her heart. As for the kind of spark she’d felt with Luke, she still hoped to find that in a man who loved small-town life and didn’t instinctively flirt with half the human race. The female half.

  The golden-brown dog, whose head reached Jane’s thigh, had a wavy coat and a white chest and belly that he loved for her—or anyone—to scratch. She’d read that spaniels were protective of their owners, but Stopgap must have skipped obedience school the day they taught that lesson, because he was way too eager to please everyone.

  She regretted that her long hours left him alone so much, although she arranged for neighbors to walk him occasionally. But on Saturday mornings, he deserved, and received, her undivided attention.

  Now he tugged at his leash as Jane, clad in a jogging suit, strolled around horseshoe-shaped Harmony Road. The arc of houses whose architecture blended Mediterranean and Spanish influences formed the core of the larger Harmony Cir
cle development.

  At the lower curve of the street a pair of 1930s cottages predated the rest of the structures. One of the Craftsman-style bungalows was next door to Jane’s property, but seemed farther away due to its double-wide lot and profuse plantings, including a couple of squatty palm trees and several tall bird-of-paradise plants.

  Since it had stood empty for several months, she was surprised this morning to spot a cardboard box on the porch. Perhaps the owner, Sherry Montoya, planned to sell the place and was clearing it out.

  In front of the second cottage, Stopgap paused to sniff a bed of pansies. Several doors farther, artful white-on-white floral plantings testified to the talents of resident garden guru Bart Ryan. The owner of Number 15, he earned good money as a landscape consultant but helped Jane and several other neighbors plan their small gardens free of charge.

  This whole neighborhood had become a beloved substitute family. An only child who’d lost both parents, Jane treasured these people, along with her coworkers. She celebrated each wedding and birthday wholeheartedly.

  Her thoughts drifted to yesterday’s farewell party for Sean. He’d been so excited about his upcoming adventure that the staff members had done their best to hide how much they were going to miss him. As a goodbye gift, they’d chipped in to buy several boxes of medical supplies for his new patients.

  She wondered how the experience in Central America would affect Sean’s buoyant optimism. He’d already done some volunteer work abroad, yet how could anyone be completely prepared for what might lie ahead? She only hoped he’d be able to cope with any hardships and find compensation in the lives he would surely save.

  Luke shared some of the same idealism, she supposed, considering his dedication to research. She wondered again why he’d decided to take over Sean’s position. Surely he hadn’t done it purely out of consideration for his cousin.

  He’d missed the party due to obligations at his old job. Jane hadn’t seen him since the day of Sean’s big announcement, although they’d exchanged e-mails about such practical matters as on-call scheduling for nights and weekends. Messages that were succinct and professional in tone.

  Alternately tugging Stopgap and being pulled by him, Jane continued up the far side of the U-shaped street to Crestridge Road. Several joggers, their faces familiar from the community’s monthly potlucks, exchanged waves or nods with her. A teenage boy on a skateboard zoomed by, apparently lost in the music from his digital player.

  She and the dog ambled along the meandering streets, past the clubhouse and swimming pool. At the small playground, a mother and toddler mounted a ladder onto the slide. Jane watched the mom, a patient of hers, sit embracing the little boy for a short, laughter-filled journey to the ground.

  “Dr. McKay!” the woman called. “Look how much he’s grown.”

  “He sure has.” She’d seen that boy being born two years ago. How wonderful to be able to watch some of the babies she delivered grow up. If she worked in a major medical center, she’d miss that kind of connection.

  “How’d you like to go down the slide?” Jane joked to Stopgap.

  He panted up at her, ready for anything. Well, almost anything. Wiser judgment prevailing, they strolled on.

  They returned to Harmony Road at the opposite, upper end. As they walked back down, each house felt intimately familiar, with a story as well-known to her as a favorite TV series. A number of the women had become Jane’s friends and, dubbing themselves the Foxes, met for monthly dinners.

  Jane’s spirits lifted as she spotted her next-door neighbor, twenty-six-year-old Brooke Armstrong, sitting on a chaise longue with her baby daughter on a blanket beside her. How like Brooke to paint her nails in the front yard so she could socialize with whoever wandered by. And at five months, little Marlene, Jane’s goddaughter, had become an adorable carbon copy of her mom, right down to the cinnamon-colored pigtails.

  Neither showed any sign of alarm as Stopgap loped toward them. Gently, the dog sniffed the baby’s tummy, drawing a giggle.

  “I swear, that pooch thinks Marly’s her puppy.” Brooke indicated an empty folding chair.

  “Stopgap’s a boy.” Jane set down the leash and accepted the seat. Her dog wouldn’t stray with such enticing friends around. “You must have noticed his anatomy.”

  “Guess so. I wasn’t thinking.” Brooke blew on her nails. “What’ve you been up to?”

  “I’d rather hear about you.”

  “You mean you’d rather hear about Marlene,” her friend teased. “My life is boring.”

  Jane had to admit that her goddaughter’s development entranced her. “It doesn’t sound boring to me. Watching her change all the time must be fascinating. What’s the latest?”

  “Well, she’s been doing that a lot.” Brooke waved scarlet-tipped fingers at the baby, who had rolled over and was pushing herself up in an apparent attempt to crawl. “The kid can’t wait to run me ragged. I’m thinking of attaching a lead weight as soon as she starts walking.” She chuckled.

  “Yeah, right.” Despite the mock threat, Jane had never seen a more doting mother. “She’s growing fast.”

  “She should, the way she eats. I’ve been mashing peas and bananas for her. I am not feeding my baby prepared food.” Brooke loved cooking healthy meals for herself and Oliver, a former fast-food addict. “Of course I’m still nursing her, too.”

  “Good for you.” Jane and Sean encouraged their maternity patients to breast-feed, since it increased babies’ immunities and was better for their health in the long term. She hoped Luke held similar views.

  “Speaking of babies, don’t keep me in suspense.” Brooke blew on her nails. “Are you going to go ahead and have one or what?”

  Jane almost regretted telling her close friend that she was considering artificial insemination. Being around Marly, they naturally chatted about motherhood, and her idea had slipped out. “I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Your birthday’s when—next week? You seemed to regard that as a kind of deadline.”

  “It’s not for three weeks.” Still, the end of March was approaching far too rapidly for Jane’s taste. “Anyway, it’s not as if you prick your finger on a spinning wheel on your thirty-fifth birthday and fall into a pit of infertility.”

  “Quit rationalizing,” Brooke scolded. “Go after what you want. In case you didn’t know, Maryam Hughes is reopening her home day-care center now that her mother’s recovered from her stroke and gone back to work. So when you have your baby, you can take her right down the street.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “And you could leave her—or him—with me at night when you’re on call,” Brooke continued. “So there’s nothing to stop you.”

  Nothing except her profoundly mixed feelings. Easygoing Brooke, who let the future take care of itself, had never been able to understand Jane’s worrywart side.

  She changed the subject. “There’s a box outside Sherry’s cottage. Has she listed it for sale?”

  “Oliver says she decided to rent it.” Brooke poked at one fingernail and wrinkled her nose at the mark. “Darn! This stuff’s supposed to dry in ten minutes.”

  Maybe the box belonged to someone moving in, Jane reflected. “Did she find a tenant already?”

  “Oliver referred someone to her. He didn’t give me any details.”

  Jane was wondering what kind of new neighbors she might have, when Stopgap wandered over and nosed her arm, indicating he was ready to move on. She said goodbye and let him lead her away.

  Changes in the neighborhood always intrigued her, and the cottage lay right next door. Later, once she was certain someone had indeed moved in, she’d stop by and introduce herself.

  As Jane and the dog reached her house, a change in the breeze brought a whiff of smoke. She paused, concerned, although wildfires in February were rare.

  After a moment, she decided the scent came from either the nearby cottage or the brush around it. She started to pull out her cell p
hone, but hesitated. How embarrassing if she called the fire department and it turned out her new neighbors were barbecuing.

  After putting Stopgap inside her house, she hurried past the shrubbery until she caught a clear view of the cottage. No flames leaped through the roof, but the burnt odor grew stronger, possibly wafting from an open window.

  And that meant someone was home. Jane had to make sure everything was all right. She hurried up the porch steps and knocked sharply.

  The floor creaked, and the door swung inward.

  Luke Van Dam stood there, his hair tousled and his muscular chest bare above tight jeans. His obvious confusion mirrored Jane’s.

  Her heart rate sped up. What on earth was Brea’s newest hunk doing in the house next to hers?

  Chapter Three

  Luke had figured he could get away with experimenting in the kitchen and no one would find out if he screwed up. Despite his embarrassment over burning the pancakes, the sight of Jane on his doorstep gave him a jolt of pleasure.

  Exertion had brightened her face, and a pink jogging suit softened the lines of her long, athletic body. She seemed less frosty than in her white coat, more the spontaneous, exuberant woman he’d known when they were younger.

  He certainly hadn’t expected such a warm welcome. In fact, he’d been a bit concerned that she might keep him at arm’s length indefinitely. She must be an early riser, to have driven over here to wish him well in his new home. Perhaps this place lay en route from wherever she lived to her health club.

  “Well, good morning,” Luke said. “Welcome to chez Van Dam.”

  Her brown eyes narrowed. “Is everything all right?”

  That puzzled him. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  She waved a hand to disperse a trace of smoke. “I thought the house was on fire.”

  “Oh, that. Sorry if I alarmed you.” He stood back to let her in. “I wasn’t aware pancakes had to be watched every second.” He’d only left them to move a load of laundry into the dryer.