Jacqueline Diamond - A Baby for the Doctor

Look on the bright side. Literally. In Karen’s airy house, her African violet had a better shot at survival.

And so did Anya’s hard-won peace of mind.

Chapter Four

“Manager or police?” Jack asked.

His uncle studied the dented blue van blocking their carport spaces. “I’m guessing the driver hasn’t gone far. It’ll be faster if we wait.”

“I’d rather call someone, but you’re probably right.” At 11:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning, Jack’s stomach was growling for brunch at Waffle Heaven. “I figured now that you have your car back, we’d be bulletproof. If one doesn’t start, we could take the other. Then this jerk blocked us both.”

“Shall we punch him when he shows up?” Rod asked drily.

“You do the punching,” Jack said. “A surgeon’s hands have to be protected.”

“It takes dexterity to insert my tubes and syringes,” his uncle replied. “How about I sit on him while you administer the beating?”

“What if he is a she?” Jack asked.

“Let’s do rock paper scissors,” his uncle proposed.

“To decide whether we call the police or to decide which of us messes up our hands?”

They broke off their nonsensical discussion when they heard voices from around the corner of the nearest apartment unit.

“Angle it to your left! No, your other left,” a man ordered.

“It’s tilting!” squawked a woman.

“Hang in there, Anya. Zora, get over here!”

Shoes shuffled on the sidewalk. “Okay, I have it.”

They came into view on the walkway, navigating the narrow path between low-growing palms and bushes. With Anya and Zora was the male nurse Jack had met a few days earlier. Even though the temperature had barely reached the low sixties, he was wearing a sleeveless undershirt, displaying his expansive tattoos.

Behind him, Anya helped her roommate support the other end of a faded purple couch. She’d tied back her dark hair and donned an oversize T-shirt that ought to be shapeless. But on her, every movement reminded Jack of the tempting curves underneath.

“That,” announced Rod to the group, “is a truly ugly sofa. Dare I hope you’re taking that purple monstrosity to the Dumpster?”

“It isn’t purple,” said Anya. “It’s orchid.”

Her roommate’s thin face poked out from behind the couch. “It’s for the second-floor landing.” She blew a curl of reddish-brown hair off her temple. “Nobody has to see it but us.”

“Hauling it upstairs is going to be a fun job,” Lucky muttered. Served him right for playing rooster in the henhouse, in Jack’s opinion. “Are we blocking you doctors?”

“Yes, and we’re hungry,” Rod answered.

Show no weakness in front of Anya. Especially not while this guy was hefting furniture and rippling his muscles. “I’m not that hungry. We can pitch in.” As if to defy his speech, Jack’s stomach rumbled. Hoping no one had heard, he marched over to boost the women’s end of the couch. They released it willingly.

Reaching the van, the men maneuvered it inside. A few minutes of grunting and shifting later, they’d fitted it in place. By then, Anya and Zora had disappeared between the buildings.

As Jack jumped down, the male nurse said, “I’ll get the van out of your way. We don’t want to inconvenience you lords of the realm.”

Did the man resent all physicians or just the two of them specifically? Jack had learned—more or less by chance—that Lucky worked for the distinguished head of the men’s fertility program. He doubted the fellow leveled snide remarks at the famed Dr. Cole Rattigan. But apparently an anesthesiologist and an ordinary ob-gyn were fair game.

“Don’t bother,” Jack said. “We’re fine.”

Rod rolled his eyes. “What if they run out of waffles?”

“Honestly!” Jack growled.

“Go ahead. I can handle this,” Lucky assured them.

Jack refused to let Anya see him as a lazy slug who whisked off for a leisurely meal while others, especially her, labored. “With a few more hands, you’ll finish faster.”

Lucky rolled his shoulders, producing loud cracks. “Suit yourself.”

The women reappeared, arms full of mismatched towels and sheets wrapped in clear plastic bags. “Amazing. The ladies copied our color scheme,” Rod said.

Zora peered dubiously at the linens in hues ranging from pink to purple to olive-green. “This is a color scheme?”

“Dr. Vintner has a dry sense of humor.” Anya lugged her towels to the open van.

On the upper level, Lucky took them from her arms. “Didn’t I mention we should bring out the chairs and table before the small stuff?”

The women exchanged glances. “Huh,” said Anya. “Did he?”

“Maybe, but these were on top of them,” Zora responded.

“And you couldn’t put them on the floor?” Lucky asked.

The guy was blowing his opportunity to appear heroic, Jack thought. And although the man’s peevishness appeared to be aimed at the redhead, Anya was the one who spoke up. “Don’t make a federal case out of it. Pile them on the couch.”

With an annoyed click of the tongue, Lucky obeyed.

Rod, still planted on the sidewalk, smiled pleasantly and said to him, “It’s nice when roommates get along so well.”

“I’m sure they’ll work it out,” Jack told him. “Once they’ve moved in and all.”

“They might end up with blood on the sofa,” his uncle answered. “Which would be an improvement.”

Another tenant, backing out of the opposite carport, glared at them while maneuvering around the van. Lucky waved in a friendly manner, and the man tilted his head in grudging acknowledgment.

“Out of curiosity, how many bathrooms does this house have?” Rod inquired, eyeing the towels.

“Three and a half,” said Zora.

“For how many people?”

“Five.” Lucky jumped down from the van.

“That’s not bad, but you’ll have a traffic jam if you work the same hours.” Rod adjusted his fedora to block the sunlight.

Anya sighed. “I’d have killed for that many bathrooms when I was growing up. We had two for nine people.”

“One of our bathrooms is in my suite downstairs,” Lucky said. “You’re welcome to use it whenever you want.”

“Thanks.” She gave the nurse a vague smile.

Jack tried not to scowl. “Why don’t we bring down the rest of the furniture?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Anya gave Jack a vague smile, too.

Half an hour later his muscles were throbbing, but he would have rather worked to the point of collapse than admit defeat.

Fortunately, he was in the right place when Anya, approaching the parking lot with a box marked Dishes, halted abruptly, the color draining from her face.

“Are you okay?” Jack rushed to relieve her of the box but had to dodge a near-collision with Lucky.

“I’ve got it.” The male nurse snatched the container from Anya’s shaky grasp.

Zora approached, struggling antlike with a crate much too large for her. “Anya? Are you sick?”

“Go on,” her roommate told her. “I’m fine.”

“Well, okay.” Zora staggered toward the truck. Lucky ignored her.

“Sit down.” Jack took Anya’s elbow. “I’m speaking as a doctor.”

“Yes, a nurse couldn’t possibly figure out what she should do.” Lucky sent him a poisonous glare and carted off the dishes.

“I can manage.” All the same, Anya leaned on Jack as he escorted her to a wrought-iron bench bordered by flowering bushes.

From around the corner, Rod appeared, carrying a toilet plunger and a pack of bath tissue. “Doing my bit,” he announced, waving the lightweight items in the air and strolling on his way.

Jack gladly refocused his attention on Anya. How vulnerable she looked, sitting there twisting the hem of that huge T-shirt. “Can I get you some water?”