SH Medical 07 - The Detective's Accidental Baby (9 page)

“Sorry. Lost track of time,” Alec told her. “Lock, this is our public relations director, Jennifer Martin. Jen, Detective Sherlock Vaughn.”

Jennifer cast a questioning glance at Lock, but didn’t challenge his admittance. She nodded a greeting before closing them inside.

The wood-paneled auditorium buzzed with conversation, its steeply raked seats packed with men and women in scrubs, white coats and pastel nursing outfits. Lock scanned for Erica, but before he could locate her, an auburn-haired man strode onto the stage below. From his confident movements to his faintly amused air as he surveyed the audience, there was no doubt he must be the famous Dr. T.

This was the guy who dominated Erica’s life, Lock mused. Charisma and power flowed from the surgeon who, he recalled reading, had been educated at Harvard and Yale. Probably descended from a long line of elite doctors and professors.

“You’d never guess his mother was a housekeeper and his father spent years in a Russian prison camp as a dissident, would you?” murmured Alec, standing beside Lock at the back of the room.

With renewed respect, Lock watched the man raise a hand for silence. Unnecessarily, since the babble dropped off quickly.

“First, let me say that what I’m about to announce has the full blessing of our hospital administration.” Dr. T indicated a man in a business suit sitting in the front row. All Lock could see of him was thick black hair and shoulders worthy of a quarterback. “So if you have any complaints, see Dr. Rayburn.”

A ripple of laughter ran through the room. Next to Lock, Alec grinned, obviously enjoying the show.

“Now that I’ve covered my gluteus maximus, here’s the deal.” The surgeon paused for effect. “Oh, wait. Do we have some unexpected visitors with a point to make? Let’s bring them out.”

A lusty wail from the wings was followed by the creak of a baby carriage. Out rolled a double stroller pushed by a pretty, brown-haired woman. Bailey, Dr. T’s wife. Lock had met her when she’d dropped by the agency after having lunch with Patty.

The doctor bent to pick up a little, curly-haired girl in a pink romper. Riding high on her daddy’s shoulder, she stared at the crowd wide-eyed, then buried her face in his neck. A ripple of “Aws” ran through the audience.

“Reminds me of my Fiona when she was a baby,” Alec said fondly.

Small arms encircled her father’s neck as if she were clinging on for dear life. Such trust. Lock could almost feel the warmth of her tiny body.

“Believe it or not, there’s a reason I brought the twins on stage, other than the fact that I dote on them,” Dr. T continued. “In the fertility program, we get excited about the latest technologies, all those fascinating gadgets and hormones and medications. We tend to lose sight of what it’s all about—helping patients have babies. Lots of babies. The more the merrier, or should I say messier? But that’s my wife’s department.”

Lock didn’t join in the chuckles. He was too caught up staring at the little girl, who’d summoned the nerve to raise her head again and peer out at the audience.

He could have sworn she was staring directly at him across the room. Sending him a message.

Suddenly Lock understood what he had to do. And it didn’t involve signing that waiver.

Chapter Nine

Although she’d been looking forward to Dr. T’s announcement, Erica found her nerves stretched tight. First, due to an emergency surgery, the meeting had been postponed from one until three, which should have left plenty of time to make her appointment with Lock. Then the operation ran longer than expected, and while Owen had been able to inform the administration of the delay, Erica could hardly excuse herself from the O.R. to make a personal call.

When she’d tried to reach Lock a few minutes ago, his phone had gone to voice mail. She hoped he would find her message asking him to drop off the waiver. That would be best, anyway.

She couldn’t miss the staff meeting, which was mandatory for all personnel not immediately required for patient care. Not only that, but Erica knew her presence mattered to Dr. T. Although he hadn’t confided the final details, she’d played a key role in helping him toss around ideas and refine his plans. She was honored to be part of his core team.

“I’ve been bugging a lot of you over the past few weeks,” Owen continued, adjusting his squirming daughter against his shoulder. “You’ve raised some interesting ideas and shot down others. So in a sense, what I’m about to reveal is a group effort. Like it or not, you’re all a part of it.”

They were? Erica understood the importance of building teamwork across the entire hospital, but it hadn’t occurred to her that so many people were providing input. Suddenly she didn’t feel so special, and that hurt more than it should have.

This wasn’t her family. It was her work environment. Why did that thought bother her so much?

“We’re going to hold a contest that will last for nine months. That’s symbolic, as I’m sure you’ve all figured out.” Owen’s chuckle made it clear he enjoyed the spotlight. “Our goal is to encourage all of you to make full use of the latest techniques to help our patients. To that end, our medical center management has promised to donate one hundred thousand dollars…” He paused to let the surprised murmur die. “That’s one hundred thousand big ones, to the favorite charity of the doctor who achieves the highest pregnancy rate among his or her fertility patients.”

No one spoke. Probably, like Erica, they were trying to process what they’d just learned. It came as a shock to her, too. She hadn’t heard even the tiniest hint that there might be such a large prize involved.

“We will not count naturally occurring pregnancies among nonfertility patients,” Owen added.
Too bad Paige can’t count me,
Erica reflected.

“Also, I encourage physicians to choose a charity in consultation with their nurses and other staff. We’re all in this together. As for the clock, it starts ticking now, and we’ll announce the winner in December. Any questions?”

The first hand that shot up belonged to Dr. Samantha Forrest. “Do pediatricians count?”

“You planning to encourage pregnancies among your little patients?” Owen returned wryly.

The blonde specialist smiled. “I didn’t mean it that way. But as most of you know, I established the Edward Serra Memorial Clinic a few years ago to counsel teen moms, abused women and families in crisis. We’ve been underfunded ever since, and we’re operating out of bare-bones quarters at the city’s community center. I hope doctors will keep us in mind when they make their choice.”

Zack Sargent got to his feet. “If we’re lobbying for causes, I hope my fellow OBs will consider setting up a fund to aid patients who lack insurance coverage for fertility treatment. I’m sure we all hate seeing women leave for economic reasons.”

More voices joined in, some siding with Samantha or Zack, others offering other choices. Dr. T beamed. “Competition is all to the good.”

“Are you going to compete?” Rod Vintner asked him.

“Sure. I hope to raise the stakes for everyone. And the money
does
go to charity.”

Paige Brennan stood and waved for attention. With her dramatic red hair and imposing height, she drew all eyes. “While I’m new on staff and technically just filling in for Nora, I’d like to offer another viewpoint.”

“By all means,” Owen exclaimed. When little Julie, who’d been muttering unhappily, let out a squawk, he handed her to his wife.

“I came here because I love being part of this exciting program,” Paige said, “but I think it’s important not to pressure patients to go full speed ahead if it doesn’t suit their wishes or beliefs. I have couples who prefer a low-tech approach, and sometimes that works.”

“All pregnancies among fertility patients count, regardless of which technique was or wasn’t used,” Dr. T replied. “Anyone else?”

He hadn’t acknowledged Paige’s point, Erica thought as the obstetrician folded her tall frame back into her seat. And it had taken courage to speak out that way. Well, they all knew Dr. T could be single-minded in pursuit of his goals.

No one else cared to comment. “Go forth and multiply,” Owen concluded. “Just keep it civil, folks. The public will be watching. I broke the news here first, but I’ll be repeating this information at a press conference later.”

As she arose, Erica wondered where she’d donate the money if it were up to her. While a hundred thousand dollars might not be a lot by research standards, it could accomplish a great deal in any of the programs mentioned. But she doubted Dr. T would put much store in her opinion if he won.

She’d better hurry and call Lock, she thought as she made her way up the aisle in a throng of coworkers. But when she reached the top, she saw him standing to one side, waiting for her.

A zone of calm seemed to surround him. His self-assured stance warned people not to push too close, and they didn’t.

“I tried to reach you,” she said as she joined him. “I’m sorry you had to wait.”

“No problem.” He didn’t explain how he’d slipped into the meeting. “That was quite a show. Dr. Tartikoff has a striking presence.”

As they exited the auditorium, Erica regarded her visitor suspiciously. Why was he trying to get on her good side? “The cafeteria’s usually half-empty at this hour. We could talk there.”

“Fine with me.” Cupping her elbow, Lock steered her out of the path of a woman in a wheelchair.

As they headed along the hallway, Erica noticed several people studying the two of them speculatively. Darned if that didn’t include Ned Norwalk. She was trying hard to like the blond nurse, especially since they both assisted the same physician, but his nosiness irritated her.

The cafeteria would be too public. Come to think of it, the entire hospital teemed with busybodies with busy ears. Then Erica got an idea. “This way.” Turning, she opened a door marked Fertility Support Services.

“Glad you know your way around,” Lock said.

“I’m learning.”

The receptionist was tied up on the phone, Erica saw. Several other staff members, including the program’s financial counselor and patient liaison, were away from their desks, probably due to the meeting. That left several unmarked offices reserved for the yet-to-arrive heads of the egg donor program and the men’s fertility program.

She was glad to find one of the doors unlocked. Flicking on the light, she ushered Lock into a bare office save for a desk and a swivel chair.

He cocked an eyebrow. “And I thought my office was underdecorated.”

“This isn’t mine. It’s unoccupied. Well?” Erica gestured at his briefcase.

He indicated the swivel chair. “Sit. Please.”

Why? This ought to be a quick meeting. But her legs ached from standing during surgery, and maternal hormones were sapping what energy remained. Besides, Tony had urged her to treat the father with respect.

Lips pressed tight, Erica obeyed.

“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.” Lock clasped his hands behind his back, like a soldier at ease. “The thing is…I’ve decided…” He stopped. “No, that’s not right.”

“What are you trying to say?” Erica asked impatiently.

“I’m going to keep the baby. I’ll raise it myself.”

She waited for an explanation or—her preference—a “just kidding.” For a wild moment, she wondered if it might be April Fool’s Day. No, not for another week. The only things she heard were a phone ringing in the outer office and the receptionist’s voice answering. Nothing from Lock.

Despite her resolve to be polite, Erica blurted, “You’re an idiot.”

“My brother agrees with you,” Lock said calmly.

“You’ve discussed this with him?”

“Not about keeping the baby,” he said. “I didn’t realize that’s what I wanted to do until a few minutes ago.”

He couldn’t be serious, yet apparently he was. “What brought you to this astounding conclusion?”

The planes of Lock’s face softened. When his mouth curved tenderly, Erica remembered with a pang how he’d gazed at her on the night they’d made love.

Which is how we got into this mess.

Lock spoke affectionately. “That little girl on the stage was so… It was as if…I fell in love with her. Knowing that you’re carrying our baby…becoming a daddy…well, it’s the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t give that up.”

The devotion on his face sent an intense yearning through Erica. For an instant she wondered what it would be like to create a family with Lock and the baby. To have a home instead of feeling like a perpetual outsider.

But he hadn’t offered her that. Besides, even if things went well for a while, one day it would evaporate like the fragrance of a home-cooked meal after you opened a window. She’d be left with another ruined relationship and a broken heart. Plus, this time, a needy child she wasn’t prepared to raise.

“You’re only thinking of yourself,” she told him. “This isn’t a puppy you can adopt on impulse and find a new home for when you get tired of it. Not that anyone should do that to an animal, but you of all people should understand how cruel it is to a child.”

Lock leaned on the edge of the desk, only a couple of feet away. Did he have to smell so alluringly masculine? “I understand your doubts, especially given my lack of experience with babies, but my foster mom can advise me on that. I’ll hire help while I’m working, of course.”

The hospital’s day-care center took infants, Erica remembered. But she didn’t want to make this easier for him. “You think I’ll come around, don’t you? That I’ll end up taking responsibility for this child.”

“Not at all.”

“You say that, but there’s an underlying assumption that you’ll have backup, and guess who’s going to be nominated?” The prospect of being pressured into such a life-altering role infuriated her. “I’ll give you credit for good intentions. I’m sure you have a fantasy about how an adoring baby will make up for your lost childhood.”

“You don’t know me very well.” Lock regarded her levelly. “I’m not big on fantasizing.”

“You have no idea what it means to assume twenty-four-hour-a-day responsibility for another person,” Erica retorted. “This isn’t a TV show about a bumbling daddy who magically makes everything work out.”

He was nodding, which gave her a glimmer of hope, until he said, “I grant you, I’m a novice. But women cope with this kind of situation all the time. That doesn’t mean it’s easy, but if they can do it, so can I.”

If he wasn’t nearly twice her size, she’d have been tempted to shake some sense into him. Or, Erica conceded reluctantly, she might simply be experiencing a desire to touch him. Angry as he made her, there was something appealing about seeing fatherly instincts surface in such a rough-and-tumble guy.

She rejected her impulse. Responding to him on anything other than a rational level would make her as foolish as he was.

“I may not be up for a mother of the year award, but I do feel an obligation to ensure this baby finds the right home,” she responded tautly. “You are in no way qualified. Go see a therapist and find out what’s really going on inside you, but first please sign that paper.”

He spread his hands apologetically. “Your response is understandable. I sprang this on you without warning.”

“It may be understandable, but it’s also correct,” Erica declared. “As you just admitted, you reached this decision without thinking it through. You saw a cute baby and your heart went pitty-pat. How long do you suppose that emotion is going to last? I give you a couple of sleepless nights and a few missed appointments while you rush a sick infant to the doctor.”

He folded his arms, which made her aware that she was doing the exact same thing.
We’re a matched pair of bulldogs.
Under other circumstances, she might have found that observation amusing.

“Let’s take a day to think about it,” Lock said. “I’ll come by your place tomorrow around six. Bringing groceries. I’ll cook, too. Then we can discuss this with clearer perspective.”

On the verge of objecting, Erica realized she had little choice. Although she quailed at the notion of his visiting her apartment again, she couldn’t force him to waive his rights, and since he roomed with his brother, they could hardly meet at his place. Going anywhere public, they’d risk being seen by coworkers. It was surprising how often Erica ran into people she recognized at the supermarket or, like the other day, even the antiques store. Much as she appreciated the small-town atmosphere of Safe Harbor, she wasn’t thrilled about the lack of privacy.