The Baby Jackpot (16 page)

That only stiffened her resolve. Nobody was going to push her
into a foolish marriage. The sooner she settled matters, the better.

After her shift, she called Tony Franco, who agreed to talk to
her right away. The attorney was an enthusiastic supporter of the fertility
program. He’d met his wife when, as a surrogate, she’d become pregnant with his
daughter, now a preschooler.

In the fifth floor administrative suite, a secretary ushered
Stacy into his large, book-lined office. Behind the broad desk, a window
overlooked the Pacific Ocean a few blocks away.

A calm man with rust-brown hair, Tony sprang up to shake hands.
He directed Stacy into an upholstered chair and, after an inquiry about how she
was feeling, provided her with a list of adoption agencies and attorneys.

“It’s rather early in the pregnancy to make a decision like
this,” he noted.

Stacy squirmed, feeling achy despite the comfortable chair. “I
don’t want to put it off.”

Tony handed her a legal-looking document. “The father will need
to sign this relinquishment paper.”

“What?” Stacy bristled.

“He has to agree to the adoption.”

“That’s not fair!” This was her body and her decision.

Tony regarded her sympathetically. “You’re not the first woman
to whom this has come as a shock, believe me. If you prefer, I could give this
to Cole.”

And let someone else, even a well-intentioned man like Tony,
meddle in her affairs? “I’ll handle this. But thank you.” After putting the
paper atop the list of agencies, she shook hands again and departed.

Cole was no more responsible for the laws than Tony was, yet
having to get his permission rankled. Stacy decided to get this over with
tonight.

Chapter Sixteen

Until now, Cole had never cared much about his
surroundings. A plain apartment with serviceable furnishings suited him fine. So
did a tiny kitchenette with a couple of burners and a microwave. So what if you
couldn’t bake brownies or a Boston cream pie?

But arriving at his tiny suite shortly before seven, he felt
his spirits plummet. In the past few weeks, he’d grown accustomed to Stacy’s
delicate furniture and to the lingering scents of baking. Mostly, he missed
knowing she was there, even if she might be in a grumpy mood. Since she hadn’t
acted this way before she got pregnant, he blamed her condition. Besides, he
enjoyed teasing her into a better frame of mind.

Over a frozen dinner, he put a DVD into his laptop and sat at
the chipped table to watch it. Usually, the comedic tension of two people
falling in love while denying it amused him. Tonight, he found himself picking
apart the movie’s shallow concepts.

If he’d learned anything from his clumsy attempts to analyze
his colleagues’ marriages, it was that lovers also had to be friends. They and
their spouses formed partnerships that nurtured each other as well as their
children. It added to the fun when people surprised each other with loving
gestures and gifts, but day by day, it was the little things that counted. Or
was he deluding himself because he didn’t seem capable of sweeping Stacy off her
feet?

Hearing a knock on the door, Cole paused the movie. Cautiously,
he went to the front window. Although the press had backed off, some pushy
reporter might have tracked him here.

Against the uninspiring backdrop of the motel courtyard,
Stacy’s flushed face glowed in the June twilight. Cole banged his shin against a
chair in his hurry to open the door.

“Hi,” he said, not bothering to conceal his happiness at seeing
her.

She held up an official-looking sheet of paper. “I need you to
sign this.”

It couldn’t be divorce papers, since they weren’t married.
Taking it, Cole moved back. “Come in.”

She edged past him, the vivid plum color of her blouse and the
scent of lilies instantly making the room more congenial. As she gazed around,
her expression softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”

“That’s okay.” He scanned the document.
Relinquish all rights...
“Is this necessary?”

“Yes, according to Tony.” Stacy hovered close by.

Cole couldn’t bring himself to slash his signature on the
bottom, no matter how much she obviously wanted him to. “I never sign legal
papers without reviewing them carefully.” That was true, if incomplete. “Is
there a rush?”

She drew herself up. “I want to get this over with.”

“You realize the adoption can’t be finalized until after the
babies are born, anyway,” Cole pointed out. “I’m not saying you’ll change your
mind...”

“How come everyone else thinks they know better than me how I
should lead my life?” she snapped. When she turned away, he saw that her eyes
were bright with tears.

Her father’s rejection must be haunting her. But this was a
life-altering decision. It shouldn’t be reached in a burst of emotion.

“Stacy, I’d like for us to see a counselor.” Where had that
come from? “Not Laird,” Cole added quickly.

“No.” She hugged herself.

“You’re making a choice that will affect your entire life,” he
pointed out. “Mine, too. Don’t you want to be sure we’ve considered all the
angles?”

Her breathing speeded up. As if afraid she might burst, she
moved to the still-open door. “If you insist on reading the fine print, that’s
up to you. Just leave it in my box at the hospital.”

Then she was gone. Swallowing the bitterness of regret, Cole
forced himself to face the truth.

Even if, through some stratagem, he managed to skirt Stacy’s
defenses and win her hand, she would never really love him. During the past few
months, he’d come to acknowledge his limitations as well as his strengths. He
was a straightforward guy, brilliant in his field and with previously
unsuspected fatherly instincts, but he would never send Stacy’s heartbeat into
overdrive by singing to her in front of a crowd. Nor would he astound her by
presenting her the perfect gift at the perfect moment.

She had to love him for who he was and despite his flaws, the
way he loved her. And that wasn’t going to happen.

Outside, kids rattled by on skateboards, calling to each other.
On the laptop, a motionless image showed two actors pretending to flirt. If he
touched a key, dialogue written by a screenwriter would flow from their mouths.
They’d be witty and glib, and if they got hurt, the emotions would bounce right
off them. Unlike the ache he felt.

Cole had never imagined falling in love and losing. Love meant
too much. In a way, he’d been glad he was always the one who drifted away or, in
Felicia’s case, acted like a jerk—her opinion, not his. He’d never wanted to
vibrate with this hollow, lost sense the way he had on the airplane coming home
from France.

He hadn’t even realized he was developing these feelings for
Stacy. They’d grown undetected, day by day, as the two of them worked together.
Then one night, not only had he made love to her almost by accident, he’d also
tumbled over the edge between liking and adoring. Needing.

Hurting.

If only she would let him take care of her and the babies
during the pregnancy. Cole clenched his fists as if to fight an unseen
enemy.

To calm himself, he switched from the DVD to an online
newscast. A couple of routine items rolled by, and he’d just risen to fix a bowl
of ice cream when he heard his name.

Dourly, he turned toward the screen. There, against a backdrop
of trees, walkways and tall buildings—almost certainly a college campus—a young
woman with thick glasses and wispy hair stood perspiring as she faced a knot of
reporters.

Eva’s daughter was getting a taste of what she’d unleashed. All
the same, Cole felt sorry for her.

“Everything I know, I put in my blog,” Tammy was saying.

“Who did Dr. Rattigan impregnate, Miss Rogers?” a woman
demanded. “Or did you invent the whole story?”

“I did not!”

“It clearly wasn’t his nurse,” said a man.

Behind them, a group of students gathered to watch. They
reminded Cole of observers at a car wreck.

“He has more than one nurse!” Tammy exclaimed. “Oh, who
cares?”

“What’s her name?” the woman demanded.

Don’t you dare tell them.
Cole held
his breath.

“You people must be short on real news, or maybe you don’t know
what real news is.”

“Do you?” someone asked. Then Cole realized he’d spoken aloud
in the empty room.

Clearly on the verge of a meltdown, Tammy wavered. Any second,
she might reveal Stacy’s name and transform a difficult situation into a
disaster.

Then her back stiffened. “It’s none of your business,” she
said. “And thanks to you guys, I’m changing my major. Maybe I’ll be a nurse like
my mom. I sure don’t want to be like you—a pack of wolves. No, not wolves.
Jackals.”

That stopped them long enough for Tammy to flee. Cole would
have been tempted to send her a thank-you bouquet, except that she’d started
this whole mess.

Her words didn’t seem to register. At least, not with the woman
who spoke directly into the camera. “So Dr. Daddy Crisis has more than one
nurse. Is it like a harem? We’ll get to the bottom of this. Reporting from Cal
State Fullerton, this is...”

Cole had to defend Stacy. Even though he no longer deluded
himself that he could devise a tactic to win her heart, he had to stop the
gossipmongers in their tracks.

Fortunately, there were responsible reporters in the world. Not
everyone lived from scandal to scandal.

And he had an idea how to enlist one of them.

* * *

O
N
S
ATURDAY
MORNING
, Stacy awoke to an eerie silence. It wasn’t really all that
silent, since she could hear traffic from the street and music pouring from
someone’s window. But in the apartment, she was alone.

Although Cole hadn’t yet removed his furniture, something vital
was missing. She lay in bed wondering if Anya was assisting him in surgery this
morning. Perhaps meaning to be kind, the nursing coordinator had promised Stacy
no more Saturday shifts for the duration of her pregnancy. She wished Betsy
wasn’t such a nice boss.

Finally Stacy dragged herself out of bed, showered and ate. She
should take a walk, or go shopping. Maybe visit a museum.

Was Cole home yet? If she stopped by his place, she was afraid
he’d think she was pressuring him about signing the paper. Back when he’d loomed
as an intimidating, famous surgeon and she was simply his scrub nurse, she used
to bake cookies or cupcakes to bring to work just to inspire a rare smile from
him. She’d like to bring back that smile now.

What was wrong with her?

When the phone rang, she snatched it eagerly from the table.
But the screen showed Harper’s name. “What’s up?”

“It’s Una,” Harper said. “She asked me to call you. She
suffered a fall.”

“Is she okay?” Stacy felt guilty for wallowing in her own
misery. Una might be seriously injured.

“Just bruised, but she’s afraid of miscarrying,” her friend
responded. “Her husband’s here and we’re arranging an ultrasound at the office.
She’d like your support.”

“I’ll be right there.” It occurred to Stacy that Harper didn’t
normally work on Saturdays. “Dr. Franco asked you to come in on your day off?
Who’s watching Mia?”

“I took her to Adrienne’s,” her friend said. “She and Reggie
are planting a vegetable garden.”

“Sounds like fun.” Stacy’s thoughts returned to Una.
Please let her be okay.
“I’ll be there as fast as I
can.”

“See you.” Harper clicked off.

If Una lost the twins... Stacy refused to dwell on that
idea.

Positive thoughts only.

A minute later, she was en route.

* * *

“I’
M
STILL
NOT
CONVINCED
this is a good idea,”
Jennifer Martin said as Cole took a seat behind the conference table. “But Dr.
Rayburn gave the okay.”

Her husband, a blond man with an intense manner, angled one of
the lights. The videographer, a young bearded fellow named Paul Gupta, studied
the effect from behind his videocam. “That’s perfect. No shadows.”

Stepping away, Ian Martin assessed Cole with a glance. “Shift
your chair a little to the left. Excellent.”

How strange to be deliberately subjecting himself to more
publicity, Cole mused. “I appreciate your concern, Jennifer. But they’re not
going to quit hounding me and I can’t let them go after Stacy.”

“Just doing their jobs, in an obnoxious way.” Ian had worked
for an international news agency before meeting Jennifer and moving to Safe
Harbor. “I’m glad to be out of that rat race.” He wrote nonfiction books on
medical topics now, in addition to producing a weekly online news program.

The public relations director, wearing a blouse and dress pants
instead of her usual suit, began to pace. After receiving Cole’s call last
night, she’d moved swiftly. She’d secured the administrator’s approval, cleared
it with her husband and arranged for them to use this conference room at the
hospital.

Everyone involved was trustworthy, she’d assured Cole. The
shooting and editing would be fair and professional. Even the videographer
belonged to the Safe Harbor Medical family. Paul’s mother, Devina, was the
office nurse for pediatrician Samantha Forrest. While his older brother had gone
to medical school, he was pursuing his dream of becoming a filmmaker.

“I’d be more comfortable if you’d tell me exactly what you plan
to say,” Jennifer fretted.

“This isn’t a scripted show.” Ian took his place beside Cole at
the table.

“You have notes,” she pointed out.

Her husband glanced at his cards. “Questions, not answers.”

“If I say something stupid, you can edit it out, right?” Cole
said.

“Sure, but we may disagree on what’s stupid,” Ian replied.

Hold on.
Seized by a fierce desire
to ride into battle, Cole had plunged into the fray, assuming that being
interviewed by the PR director’s husband was safe. He hadn’t prepared an
outline, although he did have general ideas.

He planned to put the issues into perspective for the public,
to counteract the exaggerations in the press. Maybe then everyone would leave
him and his nurse alone. “You won’t use Stacy’s name.”

“I already promised not to,” Ian confirmed.

“Maybe I should concentrate on sperm rates and how the future
of mankind is not on the chopping block,” Cole fretted. “After all, I’m a
scientist.”

“I thought you wanted to scoop the media,” Ian answered coolly.
“You can’t do that unless people watch this.”

“Which means, uh, what?” Cole asked.

Jennifer was pacing across the room. “It means you have to give
them human interest stuff.”

“Such as getting she-who-shall-not-be-named pregnant,” Ian
clarified. “The personal angle.”

No wonder Jennifer wished he’d written a script. No wonder she
had reservations about the whole idea.

Nevertheless, Cole refused to back down. He’d accepted that he
and Stacy had no future together. It didn’t matter if he made himself look
foolish, as long as he kept her safe.

“Ready?” Paul asked.

Cole took a deep breath.

“This won’t hurt,” Ian assured him. “Much. Okay, let’s do
it.”

It was too late to change his mind.