Connie Cox - The Baby Who Saved Dr Cynical

Both he and Mike had come a long way since they’d had to share one winter coat between the two of them in their younger days.

Last year Mike had married into an instant family of two girls and a boy, along with a beautiful, witty wife who’d just given birth to their son eight weeks ago.

Somehow Mike made it work.

Jason waited while Mike examined a chef’s gashed forefinger and ordered a tetanus shot along with a couple of stitches.

When Mike was finally free, Jason asked, “You up for a hike this weekend? I’ve got some relationship questions to ask you.”

A good, hard climb in the crisp mountain air would clear his head.

“Can’t. I’ve got to take the five-year-old to a birthday party. Tea party theme. The birthday girl’s father has promised grownup drinks for the parents while we wait.” He sighed, but his eyes sparkled with happiness. “The sacrifices of fatherhood.”

Jason couldn’t imagine himself at a little girl’s birthday party, making small talk with other parents. Even the thought of being so domestically entrapped made him fidget.

“We’ve got the waiting room cleared out. Ask me now.”

Jason shifted from foot to foot, then just blurted it out. “When a woman says she needs more, what does she mean?”

“More, huh? That’s a tricky one.” Mike rubbed his chin. “Are we talking about Dr. Montclair?”

Jason chose to ignore the smirk Mike didn’t bother to hide. “Yes. Who else would it be?”

“She strikes me as a straightforward woman. Why don’t you ask her for specifics?”

Jason thought that one over. By his evaluation, their latest conversation hadn’t been too straightforward.

“You’re not much help.”

“Guys generally aren’t when it comes to women. Why don’t you come by the house on Sunday and ask Caroline? She’s good at this sort of thing.”

“Caroline doesn’t like me.”

“She’s forgiven you.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Never tell a pregnant woman she should cut back on the chocolate, even if she should. The closer they get to their due dates, the testier they get.”

“Lesson learned.”

A nurse peeked into the lounge. “Dr. Tyler, we’ve got a patient for you.”

Jason took the stairs two at a time, but the dank, enclosed staircase didn’t give him what he needed.

He needed to work off some excess energy in the fresh air and sunshine. Wide open spaces normally cleared his cramped brain.

For safety reasons Jason never hiked alone. But he was tempted to risk it. That was what women did—made men do foolish things.

No, he wouldn’t risk going it alone with no one to call on for help. No woman was worth being stuck stranded on a mountain with a broken leg. Or a broken heart .

No. Not a broken heart. He would have to love Stephanie for that to happen, and he’d promised long ago to never be that foolish again.

Stephanie’s phone rang, showing Jason’s office number. He never called. He was a face-to-face kind of guy. Warily, she picked it up. “Hello?”

“Stephanie, when you said you needed …” He paused, giving Stephanie time to catch up with his one-sided conversation. “What is it you need?”

What should she answer? I need you to show me your heart? I need you to love me? I need you to put me first in your life? “I need you to attend a sensitivity training class.”

“A what?”

“A sensitivity class.”

“Why?”

“You’ve got another complaint filed against you, I’m afraid.” Yes, that sounded nice and businesslike. Stephanie was rather proud of her control.

“So?”

“So the hospital is being very careful about these things nowadays, particularly because of the lawsuit. The class is mandatory.”

“Or what? You’ll fire me?”

At the thought of never seeing Jason again Stephanie felt her stomach drop. “No, Jason. Of course not—not you, anyway. But showing that we insist upon a consistent policy will help with the lawsuit and our malpractice insurance. I need you to cooperate with me.”

“What’s the complaint?”

“Mrs. Canover said you were rude to her.”

“Remembering Mrs. Canover, I would have to agree with her.”

“Jason, we’ve discussed this before. A large part of patient care is attitude. We treat the whole patient and the family, not just the illness.”

“No, that’s not in my job description. My job is to find the problem and fix it. Has Mrs. Canover’s son had a relapse? Difficulty breathing? Rash? Fever? Sore throat?”

“No. None of that. Her son is recovering nicely.”

“Then what’s her complaint?”

“Did you really tell her she should stick with growing African Violets instead of children?”

“The woman demanded that I give her three-year-old son allergy shots twice a week rather than getting rid of her house-plants. What would you have said?” Jason had been staggered when the woman had refused to give up the prize-winning African Violets that had been passed down through generations for the health of her son, and hadn’t hesitated to give his opinion.

Frankly, Stephanie agreed. But, as her grandmother insisted, there was a polite way to say everything. “I’m not sure, but I probably wouldn’t have implied she was as dumb as the dirt in her violet pots.”

“Who will take care of my patients while I’m stuck in a classroom being lectured to by an idiot who has never diagnosed an illness in his life?”

“You will. I’ve scheduled the class for your off hours this weekend.”

“I’ve already got plans.”

An unexpected spike of jealousy shot through Stephanie. The thought of Jason with another woman sent her temples to pounding.

Not good for the baby , she reminded herself. She took a deep breath. “Cancel them. I’m sure your date will understand. After all, you’re a doctor. Any woman who makes plans with you should expect to be flexible.”

“Just because we agreed to see other people doesn’t mean I am.” He lowered his voice a half-octave, probably because he knew how she liked that. “I was hoping you might want to get away this weekend. We could go to my cabin. We haven’t been up there since Independence Day. I could make lasagna.”

“Our personal relationship is over, remember?”

“Stephanie, just because our sexual liaison is over it doesn’t mean—” He swallowed hard enough for her to hear him. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends.”

His voice sounded strained. As honest and forthright as he was, he wasn’t good at voicing what others wanted to hear.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that to get me back into your bed, aren’t you?”

“Busted.” He sounded awkward, sheepish. “You’ve got to admit we’re awesome together.”

She looked up, as if searching for an answer in the ceiling tiles. “Jason—”

“I know you have a lot going right now, Stephanie. We could both use a little fun to put things into perspective.” He sounded serious. “No strings. No commitments. Just a weekend away. A glass of wine under the stars and a few laughs between friends.”

That had been more than enough for her only a few short months ago.

They had shared some fun times. His quirky sense of humor was right in line with hers. Together they had snickered and chortled at things the rest of the world didn’t get. It had felt good to be understood.

“There’s more to life than grins and giggles, Jason.”

She took off her glasses to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll email you the details on the class.”

Stephanie spent the rest of the afternoon familiarizing herself with Jason’s patient files, all the while marveling at his brilliance. His reports made for fascinating reading. They were thorough and detailed—and, best of all, unbiased. He didn’t slant the facts to support his hypotheses, and he included details of wrong assumptions as readily as right ones.