DR. MOM AND THE MILLIONAIRE

by Christine Flynn

  "I see our new wing had your attention. The construction was delayed for a while because of an embezzlement problem with the foundation funding it, but everything's back on schedule now. Our administrator … Ryan Malone…" she said cautiously, watching to see if he reacted to the name, "managed to pull more funding together.

  "We're all anxious for the space," she continued, when all he did was blandly glance back at her. "If the new wing were finished, we might have been able to accommodate the request you made for a larger room. I'm sorry, but we don't have VIP suites here at Memorial."

  Despite bruises that were working their way from dark cherry to concord grape, he truly did look better than when she'd last seen him. The dull glint of deep pain was gone from his eyes. But his edginess remained. It seemed to linger just beneath the surface, as carefully controlled as the man himself. Bridled as that tension was, it seemed to curl through her, knotting her nerves as his glance slid over the simple navy A-line skimming from her neck to midcalf.

  There was no reason she should have felt exposed. He wasn't looking at her as if he were mentally disrobing her.

  As his glance lingered on her taut and slender biceps, then moved to where she toyed with the single pearl hanging just below her throat, he was studying her in a way that was almost clinical.

  "You don't strike me as the type who makes idle conversation, Doctor." His dark head dipped toward the closed door. "And I can't imagine we'd need privacy if all you came to tell me is that my request for a larger room has been denied. Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you so much that you left your party to talk to me?"

  Alex didn't fluster easily. Remaining cool under fire was as much a form of self-preservation as a professional necessity. But this man had a definite knack for knocking her off balance. She suspected he knew it, too.

  "How did you know where I was?"

  "I imagine everyone within earshot of the nurses' station knows. I could hear them trying to decide who got to be at the restaurant when you arrived and who had to go over later and bring back cake." His glance slid to where her ringless fingers grasped her necklace. "They were also speculating about whether or not you'd have a date. As of a few minutes ago, word was that you didn't."

  "It's nice to know the hospital grapevine is so accurate."

  "It's an interesting distraction," he admitted, sounding as if he'd used it to keep himself from crawling the walls. "So, if you didn't have a date, who's this Tyler who was with you?"

  "My son," she replied, and watched the dark slash of Chase's eyebrows merge.

  "You have a son? I thought they were talking about some guy."

  "He is a guy. He's just a little one."

  That wasn't what he meant. And she knew it. It was just impossible to know what other thoughts flashed through his mind. There was no denying that her having a child had given him pause. The hesitation itself was enough to nudge her defenses. There were some men who tended to shy from women with such an encumbrance. There were others who regarded children as nothing but burdens that cost money and delayed goals.

  She had no idea how this man felt. She just knew that Tyler had nothing to do with why she was there—and that Chase Harrington had an uncanny knack for bumping old bruises.

  He'd even managed to do it when he was out cold.

  "How did you know something's bothering me?" she asked, disquieted by that, too.

  Sheets rustled as he crossed his arms, his fathomless eyes intent on her face as he considered her. A moment later, the quality of that consideration underwent a subtle shift when he nodded toward her hand. It was curled and resting below the base of her throat.

  "Other than the reasons I just gave you, you've probably rubbed a full millimeter off that pearl since you walked in here. I wouldn't say you look nervous. In your line of work, you've had to deliver too much bad news to start out by hedging. You're too professional for that. But you're not comfortable with whatever's on your mind, either," he told her, sizing her up as she suspected he did his allies. Or his adversaries. "I don't have the feeling you're here because you're my doctor, either."

  Unaware of what she'd been doing until he mentioned it, she slowly released her grandma Larson's pearl. It was disconcerting to be read so easily. Here, on her turf, she was usually the one making the analysis, judging, weighing. She was the one people looked to for answers. Her professional role was the one area of her life where she felt reasonably competent. It was everything else that threw her.

  Yet, there was no denying the man's powers of observation, or disputing his conclusions. Most of them, anyway.

  "You're good," she conceded, wishing she didn't feel that there was more he'd noticed, but discreetly failed to mention. "And you're right. I'm not here because of your treatment. But I'm not uncomfortable with what I want to talk to you about. I'm just not sure how to address it."

  "Under the circumstances, why don't we just try the direct approach?"

  He offered the suggestion mildly, encouraging her with a hint of a smile that threatened to be devastating if he ever put his heart into it. He hadn't reacted to Ryan's name at all, but she had the feeling he chose to reveal only what he wanted others to see. Since the tactic gave him an extraordinary advantage, she had no doubt he used it shamelessly.

  "In that case," she quietly began, "I need to talk to you about the meeting you missed Friday night. It's possible that I misjudged its importance."

  He didn't even blink. But he didn't move, either. "What about it?"

  "By any chance was it personal rather than business? If it was," she said, before that formidable will of his could snap his guard more firmly into place, "and if it's about what I think it is, maybe I can help."

  "Just what do you think it's about?"

  "Your brothers. I think you were going to meet them."

  For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the hum of the air system and the steady, rhythmic click of the IV pump beside his bed. She didn't doubt that he was a master of control. She'd seen him battle to stay conscious when anyone else would have given up. She'd seen him pinch back frustration to keep from lashing out when pain would have had anyone else raging. But his defenses had been strained by the physical toll on his body and he simply hadn't been prepared for her to hit in such a vulnerable place. Only seconds passed before he replied, but those silent seconds had already given her her answer. He knew that, too.

  Confusion and disbelief melded with a host of sensations he truly did not want to deal with. "How could you possibly have known that?"

  "Ryan and Tanner were at my party." Her voice seemed to soften. "I was talking with Ryan's wife and Tanner's fiancée when their meeting with their brother came up. When I learned that the brother was coming from Seattle, it was just a matter of putting two and two together. Even if the coincidence about the meeting hadn't been there," she said, her glance slipping from his face to his rangy body, "there are a few similarities between the three of you. Once you get past the bruises, it's not that hard to tell you're related."

  His glance cut warily toward the closed door. "Where are they now?'

  "At the restaurant. You said that my being your doctor doesn't have anything to do with why I'm here. I am your doctor, though. That's why I can't say anything about this unless you say I can."

  He was her patient. No matter how she felt about Ryan and Tanner, her patient had to come first. "I know how badly you wanted to get in touch with them." She was drawn by that need, too. Now that she understood why it had been there. "If you'd like, I can help."

  Chase lifted his hand, threading his fingers through his hair. The gesture was new, recently acquired and absolutely no help in dispelling the agitation knotting every one of his already tender nerves. He hated that he couldn't move. He hated that he couldn't pace. More than anything, he hated the way his stomach jumped every time he thought about the moment he'd finally see the two men he'd never laid eyes on before. His brothers.

  Until a couple of months ago
, he hadn't even known they'd existed. But he'd discovered a lot of things in the four months since he'd learned that the people he'd thought were his parents … weren't.

  "You haven't said anything to anyone?"

  "No one," she assured him, sounding as sincere as she looked.

  "Then please don't. I still intend to meet them, but not in a bed, and not wearing this." Lifting his hand, trailing IV tubing with it, he plucked at the neck of his hospital gown. "I'll call them after I get out of here."

  "They won't care if you're in a wheelchair or flat on your back on a gurney. And they certainly won't care what you're wearing." All she'd have to do was make one phone call and Ryan and Tanner would be there in a heartbeat.

  The set of Chase's jaw turned defensive.

  "I'll care. I've already left messages that I'd been detained," he said, dead certain she was going to argue with him. She had the same look that she'd had when she'd told him he was acting like a wounded bear. Stubborn and sympathetic. Only now it was confusion rather than exasperation that diluted the latter. "I'll call them when I'm better."

  Alex opened her mouth, only to close it again. Her first thought was that he was just being his usual headstrong self and wanted the meeting to take place on his terms. Yet, seeing his brow furrow with strain as he reached to knead a spot above his brace, it didn't seem to be ego or pride prodding him. When she'd explained the seriousness of his injury, how it was possible that, given the worst scenario, he could lose his leg—or his life—he'd scarcely blinked.

  What she saw in him now, was the anxiety she would have expected then.

  That made no sense at all to her. But she'd seen enough fear in patients to recognize it all too easily. She just couldn't imagine him being afraid of anything. Unless, she thought, caught short by the idea, he was afraid that if his brothers saw him now, they would accept him only out of pity. Or, maybe, he was afraid they wouldn't accept him if he appeared weak. Not that they were likely to think such a thing with his reputation, she thought—then remembered that his brothers had no idea who he was. They'd been expecting Andrew Malone. Not Chase Harrington.

  Conscious of how his jaw tightened when he leaned back, the feeling she'd had when she'd left him in recovery washed over her again. She remembered how he'd struck her then as being so very alone. Only now she had a strange sense that being alone wasn't his choice. It was simply the only way he knew how to be.

  "I won't do anything you don't want me to do," she agreed, shaking off the disturbing thought. "But there is something I can do, if it will help. I can't release you any sooner, but I can get you out of this room. For a while, anyway."

  His glance shifted to her, curious and intent.

  "I'm sure it won't do for you to meet in Ryan's office. That's his turf," she added, letting him know she had a few observational powers of her own. "But I can find you an empty meeting room. You'll have to be in a wheelchair, and you'll still be hooked up to an IV," she cautioned, "but your nurse can help you into your street clothes."

  She tipped her head, trying to think of what she'd overlooked. Trying mostly to ignore the way her stomach fluttered when his attention lingered on her mouth before settling on her eyes. "I can set up the meeting for you myself."

  He didn't even try to hide his skepticism. It narrowed his gaze, seeped into his voice. "Why do you want to help me with this?"

  "Because you're my patient," she told him, unable to imagine why he looked so suspicious. "And your brothers are my friends. I think you should know they want to meet you as badly as you want to meet them. And I know you do," she informed him easily. "You wouldn't have come this far if you didn't."

  "I'd rather wait until I'm on my feet before I met them. It would just be … easier. I don't have any clothes right now, anyway. They cut off what I was wearing in Emergency and I have no idea what happened to my travel bag."

  The words rang more of excuse than reason. He had to know that.

  "It's your call," she conceded. "Just let me know if you change your mind. If you like, I can give you a number where I can always be reached."

  Looking as if he were complying only because it was easier than not, he nudged the business card on the tray-table toward her. It had landed face down, so she wrote her pager number on the back and dropped his pen beside it.

  "For what it's worth," she said, because the knowledge might make it easier for him, "all that matters to them is that you're family."

  He looked at her as if he hadn't a clue what difference that should make. He didn't ask, either. When ten seconds ticked by and he hadn't said a word, she stepped back from the bed. She had no problem helping people when they really needed or wanted it. The one thing she'd learned not to do was step in where she wasn't welcome. She'd done what she could for Ryan and Tanner. And for Chase. But Chase clearly preferred to handle the matter on his own.

  The only thing he'd asked of her was why she would want to help him in the first place. He'd looked at her as if she had some angle; as if he couldn't believe she wanted to help him simply because he needed it.

  "I should get back."

  "Yeah. You probably should."

  There were people waiting for her. Telling him she'd see him tomorrow, telling herself there truly was nothing more she could do, she turned away.

  She was halfway across the room when she heard him murmur, "By the way, I understand it was yesterday, but happy birthday."

  He watched her pause by the door. Surprise, then a smile moved over her face. That smile was as gentle as a spring rain and just as inviting.

  "Thanks," she replied, and slipped out before he could admit just how much he wished she'd stayed.

  She must have thought he wanted his privacy. The door closed behind her, leaving him isolated with the thoughts that had him feeling as if he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

  He hated the thoughts churning inside him, hated the sense of uncertainty that came with them. It hadn't been so bad when he could numb himself with the anesthetic of work. As long as he was pushing himself mentally or physically, he was fine. When he wanted to avoid the very sort of thoughts plaguing him now, he simply switched into a higher gear, demanding more of himself and, by extension, everyone around him. He'd even managed to escape for a few hours that day, hassling with the fax and working on his contracts. Now, grounded, and with his contracts finished, he had no idea how to escape.

  She'd said there were similarities. That meant there were traits he and his brothers shared, things that somehow identified them as being, at least in some ways, the same.

  He couldn't begin to imagine what they had in common.

  He already felt sorely disadvantaged where Ryan and Tanner were concerned. In the last few minutes the feeling had compounded itself. He knew from his detective's report that his brothers had dealings with each other because of the work Tanner was doing for the hospital. He knew, too, that they spent time together apart from their jobs, that they were close.

  He had no idea what that sort of bond was like. He had no idea, either, how a person went about establishing one. He'd learned long ago to insulate himself from the need for the approval of others. And he'd told himself a dozen times that he didn't really care what Ryan and Tanner thought of him. Yet, even as he'd assured himself over and over that he was coming to meet them only out of curiosity, he had wondered if they would let him in.

  You're family.

  He could still hear his doctor's voice, the quiet encouragement in it. Obviously family meant something to her—and to his brothers—that he wasn't familiar with. He wasn't sure what compassion looked like, either, but there were times he could have sworn that was what he saw in her face. The thought that anyone could understand what churned inside him was impossible to comprehend. He barely understood it himself.

  The thought that she wanted to help him because he was the brother of her friends was a strange feeling, too. When people offered him their assistance, it was usually because they were angling to get a piece
of him. Or because they wanted something in return. His money. His influence.

  He'd never had anyone offer help just because they were thinking of him.

  He picked up the business card and stared at her hurried scrawl. She hadn't written her name, just numbers that were surprisingly legible. They were for her cell phone, he imagined. Or her pager.

  He turned over the small white rectangle. The name Ryan Malone stared back at him. One of the nurses had brought the card to him that afternoon, along with another bag of the yellow fluid that constantly dripped into his vein. She'd told him in an obscenely cheery voice that the hospital administrator knew he didn't want to be disturbed, but that Mr. Malone wanted him to know that if he needed anything, he wasn't to hesitate to call him or his assistant.

  Had Chase just been some regular guy off the street, he sincerely doubted that the administrator would have bothered having his card dropped off. Ryan Malone had offered his services because he was Chase Harrington. He would have done the same had he learned that a politician or celebrity occupied one of his hospital's beds. Accommodations were made for those it could be useful to know. It was simply good business.

  It was something he'd have done himself had the situation been reversed.

  He actually found a small measure of comfort in that. But it wasn't anywhere near enough to take the edge off the apprehension he simply couldn't seem to shake. It was almost like the adrenalized anxiety he felt when he was climbing and rock or ice unexpectedly gave way. Or when a storm swept in from nowhere and threatened to capsize his boat. But there he could at least rely on his experience to get him out of whatever had gone wrong. Here, he felt as if he were in a freefall and no one had told him how to open the parachute.

  He'd never felt so unprepared for anything in his life. He'd never before faced a meeting where he knew so little about the key players. But as he turned the card over once more, vaguely aware of the panic calming when his glance settled on the numbers again, he knew he now had access to someone who apparently knew them well. And her scent, something clean and light and far more provocative than the mother of a young son should probably wear, still lingered in his mind.