Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell (10 page)

“Darby, we need to talk—”

“Oh, Darby, I just heard about your mother.” Mandy Coulson and Trey Nix entered the waiting area. “Bobby had his surgery this morning,” Mandy continued, before any of them could say a word. “Trey and I have been with Cindy, waiting in his hospital room. We stepped out to get a drink and ran into Carla. She told us everything.”

Darby tensed in Blake's arms. Because of Mandy? Because of Nix? From desire? Hating the jealousy flowing through his green veins, Blake tightened his hold.

“I'm sorry to hear about your mother, Darby,” Nix said, standing awkwardly near them.

Darby pulled loose from Blake's arms, straightened, smiled at the couple. “Thank you. That's sweet of you.”

Sweet? Blake scowled.

“Is there anything we can do?” Mandy stepped closer.

Darby shook her head. “I don't think so.”

Mandy's gaze lowered, then she nodded, as if in understanding of Darby's cool tone. “We'll keep her in our prayers.”

Darby stared straight at Mandy, her expression unreadable. “Thank you.”

The cardiologist stepped into the waiting room and all eyes turned to him.

“Mrs. Phillips has suffered an acute MI, but thus far isn't showing any major residual damage. She's going to be admitted for observation. I'm going to do an arteriogram in the morning, but overall she's a very lucky woman.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

 

When the cardiologist left the waiting area, Darby couldn't resist looking to see if Blake had noticed the amount of tan flesh on display beneath Mandy's Daisy Dukes. Her gaze collided with his dark one.

He'd been looking at her. Why?

She couldn't read his thoughts—wished she could.

Had she really spent the night in his arms, opening her body and her heart to him? Feeling as if their souls were connected? Could one really share something so beautiful with a person and not know what to say mere hours later?

He leaned back in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, eyeing her as if she were an anomaly. No doubt she was. He dated a certain type of woman, and she wasn't it.

Her throat tightened. What was going to happen to them? Why did she even care? What was most important was that her mother was going to be okay. Still, she couldn't look away from Blake's dark eyes, couldn't help but wish he loved her.

She'd leaned on him, but she'd felt his tension, felt the awkwardness in the way he held her. Everything had changed between them and it made her sick. The entire day made her sick. First what had happened with Blake, and then her mother.

“I need some fresh air,” she said, to no one in particular.

Blake stood as if to follow, maybe to confront her over what had happened between them, or maybe he'd seen the longing in her eyes and wanted to nip those thoughts in the bud.

Rising from where she sat with Trey, Mandy grabbed her hand. “I'll go with you.”

Huh?
Darby stared at her former friend, wondering why she could possibly want to go with her.

Darby didn't say anything, just left the waiting room.

“I'm glad your mother is going to be okay,” Mandy said when they stood outside the emergency room entrance.

“Me, too.”

“I'm sorry, Darby.” Mandy stared at her hands, took a deep breath and continued. “I had no right to do what I did.”

Darby didn't have to ask what she meant. “Why did you?”

“Trey.”

“You were the one to dump him,” Darby reminded her.

“Because I thought he had feelings for you, and then he asked you to the prom. I…” Mandy's concerned brown eyes lifted to Darby's. “I was wrong to do what I did, to interfere. All I can say in my defense is that I've always loved Trey.”

“Yet you ended things with him a second time.”

“Not because I didn't love him.”

“Then why?”

“Because I couldn't stand that I'd destroyed our friendship over a guy.”

Mandy's words sank in.

“What happened on prom night and the week after was poison to my relationship with Trey. I didn't think I deserved to be happy with him, so I refused to be happy.” Mandy wrung her hands together, shrugged. “If I hadn't broken up with him when I did he'd have dumped me, which is what I deserved, but I beat him to the punch.”

“I always thought you two would end up married,” Darby mused. “When I heard he'd taken a job out of town and married someone else I was shocked.”

“I cried myself to sleep for weeks.” Mandy's hands twisted the thin material of her shirt. “I know it's wrong to be happy when someone's marriage falls apart, but when I heard Trey was divorcing I knew why I'd stayed single all these years.” She let out a deep breath. “I was waiting for him. Not because I thought he'd get divorced, but because I didn't want anyone but him. Yet even with him single, I still can't have him.”

“Why not?”

“My conscience won't let me.”

“Because of what happened with me?” Darby asked in surprise, not quite believing what she was hearing. All these years she'd assumed Mandy hadn't cared how she'd hurt her.

“It wasn't until yesterday at the picnic, when I saw you with Blake, that I knew you and Trey weren't meant to be together.”

Had it only been yesterday? The picnic seemed so long ago.

“You and Blake are perfect together.”

Perfect?

They'd been perfect last night in bed.

They'd been perfect partners prior to this weekend.

Now? Darby wasn't sure
perfect
was the right adjective for what was happening between her and Blake.

“I envy you.” Mandy grimaced. “I have another admission to make. Despite knowing I couldn't be with Trey, I couldn't bring myself to mail your invitation. I wanted you here for so many reasons, yet I was scared of what might happen when you came home.” Mandy grasped her arm. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Surprised by all the emotional swings the weekend had brought, Darby glanced at the woman who'd once been her best friend, thought about all that had transpired, and tried to let go of past hurts. “I can forgive you, but I'm not sure I have it in me to do more than that. Too much has happened, too many hurts.”

Tears shining in her eyes, Mandy nodded.

“Darby, is everything okay?”

Darby turned, stared at Trey, then beyond him to where Blake stood. Apparently both men had tired of waiting and come in search of them.

Seeing Trey's gaze go beyond her to Mandy, Darby nodded. “Everything's fine.”

Except that her mother was lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life and she'd once again fallen for a man who didn't love her.

Darby and Blake watched Mandy and Trey leave. Mandy turned and waved. With a forced smile on her face, Darby waved back.

“What happened between you and Mandy?”

“We aired a few things.” She turned to look at Blake, wondering how she could be so aware of him physically even when they stood outside the hospital. “I'm not going back to Knoxville tonight.”

“I suspected as much. Do you want me to get us a hotel room here in Pea Ridge?”

Did she? Maybe if they were alone they could talk—could air things between them, too. Like the fact that she loved him and didn't want to go back to things being the way they were.

“That would be great.”

“I'll call Dr. Kingston and ask him to cover for us. And I'll get in touch with our office manager and let her know what's going on, so she can reschedule our appointments for tomorrow.”

She nodded. “You're sure you don't mind staying another night? You could go home tonight.”

“I'm not leaving you to face this alone, Darby.”

“Thank you.” She didn't point out that she wouldn't be alone, that she'd have her family. Because when she closed her eyes tonight she wanted to be wrapped in his arms, with him purging the awful memories of the day, replacing them with new memories, memories full of hope for a better tomorrow.

But late that night, when they arrived at the hotel, Blake did leave her alone.

Alone in a hotel room, with him in a room across the hallway.

Darby cried herself to sleep.

 

Darby's mother's procedure went well the following day, and although she had mixed feelings about leaving, Darby
knew she and Blake had to go home. If only long enough for her to pack a few things and drive back down by herself. Blake could cover at the office for however long was needed.

Jim walked them out to the parking lot.

Darby hugged her brother goodbye. “I'll keep my phone on me at all times. If anything changes, anything at all, you'll call?”

He nodded. “I don't know why you're asking me. If something changes you'll know before I do. I saw you give the doctor and nurses specific instructions on calling you.”

“I don't feel right about leaving,” she said for the dozenth time.

“I know.” Jim put his arm around her. “But the doctor says she's going to be fine.”

Her brother was right, of course.

She turned to Blake, found him watching her, and battled her conflicting desire to pound him with her fists and to lean against his broad shoulders.

They'd barely said two words to each other all day. He'd been with her all the time, but in the background, on the periphery of her life. Was he foreshadowing what to expect when they returned to Knoxville?

When she'd said her goodbyes to her brother, Darby rested her throbbing head against Blake's passenger seat.

“Hungry?”

She shook her head. Food was the last thing she wanted.

“You've not eaten anything since what little you nibbled at breakfast,” he pointed out. “I'm starved.”

“You can stop somewhere, but I'm not hungry.”

“You need to eat, too.”

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that Blake was right. “Fine. I'll eat.”

He pulled into a sandwich shop. They went in and ordered sandwiches, fruit, and drinks. Darby ate more than she'd thought she would, and felt better than she had when they'd arrived at the shop. Her headache had even eased.

If only her heartache would.

 

Blake stared straight ahead, as if the oncoming interstate traffic was the most fascinating view in the world.

As if he wasn't aware that Darby had given up trying to make conversation, had given up pretending to be asleep and instead had been intently watching him for the past thirty minutes. Her gaze hadn't budged.

Although he was acutely aware of her, he made no acknowledgement of her stare. To do that would open up more conversation attempts, and at the moment talking with Darby was the last thing he wanted.

What he wanted was to punch something.

He couldn't look at Darby and not want her.

He couldn't want her because then he'd want to act upon that want. And to do that would confuse things even more.

Which was why he'd gotten them separate hotel rooms the night before. Darby was vulnerable because of what had happened with her mother, what had happened between them. He'd had no right to take advantage of that vulnerability a second night.

He liked Knoxville. Having moved so many times during his youth, he hadn't really known what he was missing, but now, having been in the same place for several years, he
liked the sense of belonging he'd found. Liked the feeling enough to want to protect the life he'd made for himself.

A home, a job, a partner he depended upon. The good life he'd made for himself had evolved around Darby. They shared the same friends from medical school, shared colleagues, shared a clinic.

If he pursued her sexually, when it ended that life would fall down around him.

His best plan of action was to do as he'd done since yesterday. Act as if their making love had been no big deal, and hope that with time their relationship would smooth back out, that he and Darby could be friends again.

All he had to do was convince himself that sex with Darby had been no big deal.

“G
OOD
morning, Mr. Hill,” Darby greeted the thin man lying in his hospital bed, a grumpy expression on his wrinkled face.

“It would be a good Tuesday morning if you'd tell me I can go home.”

“Let me see how that leg is doing, then we'll talk.”

Talk. As she and Blake hadn't done. The drive home last night had been almost unbearable.

Oh, they'd made occasional small talk, but that had been the extent of their conversation.

What had they done?

Better yet, what were they going to do?

How was she supposed to greet him this morning? As her business partner, or as the man she'd made love to repeatedly on Saturday evening and again on Sunday morning?

For Blake, sex was sex. She knew that. Knew that she
had to pretend what had happened between them was no big deal because otherwise she'd lose him forever.

Only she wasn't sure she could.

Too much had happened over the weekend.

Too many old wounds opened. Too many questions raised. Too many new emotions that felt too right.

“Does that look mean I'm not going home?” Mr. Hill asked, pulling Darby back to the present.

“I'm afraid not,” she admitted, replacing the wet dressing on his leg ulcer. “At least not for several more days. The good news is that your leg is healing, slowly but surely.”

“I can't heal at home?”

Home.

Longing pierced her heart.
Home is where the heart is
. So where was home? Knoxville? Armadillo Lake?

“No, I'm sorry, you can't.”

She spent a few more minutes talking to him, then left his hospital room. She'd barely taken two steps into the hallway when Blake came out of a patient's room.

Shock at seeing her registered in his eyes. “I wasn't expecting you to be here this early.”

Obviously. Did that mean he'd purposely arrived early, in hopes of not bumping into her? Or was she being paranoid?

“After leaving the office on Friday I figured there's a lot to catch up.” Why did her explanation feel stilted?

“Me, too.” He glanced away, ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How's your mother?”

“Stronger this morning, according to her doctor. Apparently she's in as big a rush to go home as Mr. Hill.”

“Glad to hear she's improving.” Not meeting her eyes, he nodded. “Guess I'll see you at the office.”

He turned and walked away.

Darby bit the inside of her cheek. After his pretending to love her all weekend, his can't-get-away-fast-enough attitude contrasted starkly.

It hurt.

Hurt that she suspected she'd forever lost the easy camaraderie she and Blake had always shared.

What did he expect? That if he acted normal she'd think the weekend had meant something? She knew it didn't. She knew he was a highly sexed man. After all, she'd benefited from all that experience. Repeatedly.

Then another thought hit her. Had she been so bad that he couldn't even meet her eyes? Surely not, or he wouldn't have made love to her again on Sunday morning? He had been right there with her, every kiss, every touch, and he had wanted her. He couldn't have faked the desperation with which he'd taken her. He'd been driven, wild, as if he were branding her as his own.

Or was that how all men were when a naked woman squirmed on top of them? Maybe it wouldn't have mattered who she was, or how good or bad she'd been, just that he got sexual relief?

She just didn't know, and Blake hadn't wanted to talk to her on the drive home or after they'd gotten to her apartment and he'd helped carry her things inside. He hadn't even come into her apartment—just set her suitcase inside the front door and skedaddled as if he was worried she'd knock him over the head and drag him to her bed if he lingered.

Why had that hurt so much? Why had she cried herself to sleep for a second night in a row?

When she got to the office, she found exactly what she'd expected to find. A desk piled with things for her to do.

Instead of starting the process of clearing the mountain of work she went to Blake's office, and found him diligently making his way through his own mountain.

“Are you upset with me because of what happened between us?”

“No.” Clearly surprised by her candid question, he leaned back in his chair. “I'm upset with myself.”

“Why?”

“Because we crossed lines we shouldn't have crossed.”

Which said it all. Blake regretted what they'd done. Everything he'd done since Sunday morning had said that he did. Which left her with two options: pretend she regretted what had happened or tell him the truth—that she loved him.

“Fine.” She shrugged. “We'll forget this weekend ever happened.”

Blake's eyes narrowed. “Can we?”

“I already have.” She lifted her chin, stared at him defiantly, her breaking heart well hidden beneath the professional veneer she'd perfected years ago. “Haven't you?”

 

It had been a hell of a morning and this afternoon was promising to be just as trying. Blake's schedule was packed, and he'd had one call after another from the hospital.

But the worst of it was that he couldn't keep his mind on his work. No, any lull and his mind went to wondering about Darby.

She'd forgotten what they'd done?

If only he believed her.

If only he could get the memories of her body arched into his out of his head.

He couldn't.

Last night he hadn't slept, thanks to missing her warm body snuggled next to his. The night before, lying in a strange hotel room, hadn't been any better. He'd never missed a woman before. Not in bed. He'd always preferred sleeping alone. Apparently that no longer held true.

He preferred Darby.

He'd missed the way she smelled—missed it so much he'd gone out to his car to retrieve the pillow she'd accidentally left in his SUV.

When he finally had gone to sleep it had been while holding her damn pillow, surrounded by her scent, dreaming of her eager kisses.

“Dr. Di Angelo?” His nurse caught him as he followed the patient he'd just finished seeing out of the exam room. “I put McKenzie Bartholomew into room four just then. She's having an allergic reaction.”

Blake immediately stepped into the room, took one look at his patient's enormous lower lip, and agreed with his nurse's assessment. “What happened?”

“I've no idea. I was outside in our pool and my lips started tingling. A few minutes later my lip started swelling and we headed straight here.”

Blake looked over her medication allergies, stuck his head out the door and ordered an injection to be administered.

Taking his stethoscope, he listened to the girl's heart and lungs. Although her heart-rate was slightly increased, at a hundred and four beats a minute, her breathing was normal, with no wheeze.

“My nurse will be in to give you some epinephrine, and I'll be back in to check on you in a few minutes.”

He stepped out of the exam room, his gaze colliding with Darby's the second he did so.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Thanks.”

Having had enough of the monosyllabic dialogue, Blake took a deep breath and went into his next patient's room.

 

A month later, Darby was examining the right arm of an older man with a bad combover. “You're sure you didn't hit your arm?”

The man's hearing wasn't the best, and he stared at her, clearly not comprehending.

“Your arm—did you hit it?” she repeated louder.

He shook his head. “My fingers started hurting first, then the pain moved up my arm. When I took my shirt off last night, this is what I saw.”

“This” being the dark purplish discoloration that ran from his shoulder to fade into his palm. The entire underside of his arm looked as if someone had beaten him.

“Have you accidentally taken extra of your blood thinner?”

Again he couldn't understand her, and she repeated her question.

His blood
had
to be overly thin. There could be little other explanation for his unusual symptoms. Still, under normal circumstances she'd have sought out Blake for a second opinion.

This was ridiculous. No matter what had happened last month, they were still partners. Partners who barely spoke,
but partners. When they did speak, it was usually Blake asking about her mother, about her trips to Armadillo Lake over the weekends to stay with her family. Occasionally they spoke about patients, but never did they mention what had happened.

Darby kept hoping, kept praying that he'd relax, would realize that what they'd shared had been special. Instead they only seemed to be growing further apart. Each day felt more tense than the one before.

She was tired of it. Tired of walking on eggshells. Tired of his ignoring her. Tired of feeling like she'd lost her best friend.

She wanted his opinion on a patient, and by golly she was going to get it.

She excused herself and poked her head into the room where Blake had just finished with a patient. “Can I see you for a few minutes?”

She saw his hesitation, saw his eyes narrow before he answered. “What's up?”

“I'd like you to take a look at Clinton Rogers' arm. I suspect his blood is too thin but the results aren't back yet.”

“What's going on?”

“No history of injury, but pain in his right arm eight on a scale of ten, that started at the base of his middle finger and moved up his arm. Started yesterday. When he undressed last night his arm was deep purple and felt cold to him.”

“Why didn't he go to the emergency room?”

“You tell me.” Mr. Rogers should have gone to the ER, but he hadn't. Now it was her job to decide if he needed to be admitted or if he could be treated at home, probably with vitamin K injections, pending his laboratory results.

Blake followed her into the room, examined Mr.

Rogers' arm, then spoke loudly to the older man. “I'm going to drain this pocket of blood.”

Darby nodded. She'd planned to do the same, but had opted to wait until the laboratory results were back prior to doing so.

Gathering the supplies he'd need out of the exam room drawer, Darby handed Blake a ten milliliter syringe with a large-gauge needle attached. Their fingers brushed, their eyes met. Her breath caught and held.

“Blake?” She couldn't hold back the emotion bubbling inside her. They hadn't touched since that weekend, and instantly Darby was filled with longing, filled with memories of their making love.

His gaze narrowed, grew cold. He turned his back to her, explaining quite loudly to Mr. Rogers what he planned to do.

He'd snubbed her, rejected her all over again.

Darby's hope that things would get better between them died a painful death.

She'd taken a chance the weekend of the reunion, and she'd lost. Lost not only the hope that Blake might someday love her, but lost him from her life completely—because she couldn't stand this hostile environment.

Couldn't stand to breathe the same air. Not when seeing him, smelling his spicy scent, hearing his voice, only served to remind her of what could have been had he only loved her.

She left the room, intending to check on Mr. Rogers' lab results. Instead she found herself dialing Mandy's number.

“Coulson Realty.” Mandy had gone to work at her father's real estate company. “Mandy Coulson speaking.”

“Mandy, this is Darby Phillips. Is Mack Donahue's place still for sale? I want to make an offer.”

 

The following week, Darby stared at the blue lines on the test.

Pregnant.

How could she be pregnant? She and Blake had used protection. Maybe the test was wrong. Although most accurate with an early-morning sample, she hadn't waited. From the moment she'd realized her period hadn't arrived last week, not knowing had driven her crazy.

No doubt about it. Even with the time of day, and only being a week late, the positive had been strong and almost immediate. Hcg hormone was present in her urine.

The implications caused her head to spin.

Pregnant.

She was having a baby.

There was a baby growing inside her body this very minute.

Her, a mother.

She'd have to schedule an appointment with her gynecologist.

She'd have to tell Blake.

Blake.

They'd made a baby together.

How would he react?

Not well. With each day that passed they grew further apart, making her long for the days of his teasing, making her long for his touch.

She missed him, hadn't realized just how much time she'd spent with Blake until he'd blaringly exited her life.

Oh, he was still physically around. They worked in the same office, did rounds at the same hospital, but he went out of his way to avoid her and, unable to stand the regret in his dark eyes, the wince that often followed his seeing her, she'd taken to avoiding him, too.

Not only that, but she'd signed a contract on the house and five acres of the Mack Donahue estate in Armadillo Lake, and had been trying to decide just what that meant. She missed her family, was desperately needed in Armadillo Lake, but was she really planning to move home? Was she giving up on Blake?

She kept hoping they'd slip back into the easy relationship they'd always shared. After all, time healed all wounds.

Now she knew that was an impossibility.

They'd never go back.

When she told Blake she was pregnant, her news would forever destroy any hope of that.

She missed everything about him—his smile, his teasing, his wit, his friendship, his kisses. Everything.

Still, she had to think about the baby—a baby! His baby. She and Blake would have to talk, would have to figure out how they wanted to handle the future.