Jacqueline Diamond - A Baby for the Doctor

“No, thanks. I just drank half a glass.” She sucked in a breath, as if gathering strength from the fragrance of the flowers. Despite the cool air, she must have overheated from her exertion.

To distract her, Jack said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how terrific you were with Tiffany.” They hadn’t had a chance to talk privately since Thursday.

“How’d things work out for her?”

His niece’s freckled face popped into his head. He’d been thinking about Tiff a lot these past few days. “When her parents learned she was safe, they were relieved for about thirty seconds before they became furious.”

“Understandable, I suppose,” Anya said. “They must have been worried sick.”

“Helen said they blistered the phone. She refused to let them talk to Tiffany until they calmed down.”

“Good for her.” Anya tucked a wedge of dark hair behind her ear. She’d lost her clip, he noticed. “Did they drive up?”

“They flew into Orange County in their private jet.” John Wayne Airport, the closest to Safe Harbor, accommodated both commercial and private aircraft.

“That’s a short hop.” Anya swallowed, still struggling with whatever was bothering her.

“Twenty minutes in the air, I gather.” Judging by how tense she’d become when he’d just sat beside her, touching her wouldn’t be welcomed, so Jack folded his arms and went on talking. “However, with all the arrangements, it took them about two hours, roughly the same as if they drove. But that wouldn’t have satisfied Vince’s sense of importance. That gave us time to order pizza and play a round of Monopoly.”

“Who won?” Anya asked.

“Rod.” Jack smiled at the memory of his uncle battling for turf with Tiffany, both of them relishing each small victory and flourishing every Get Out of Jail Free card. “He’s a tough customer.”

“He didn’t cut a twelve-year-old any slack?”

“Kids can’t deal with life if parents pave every step of their path,” the anesthesiologist responded, sauntering back from the truck.

“I don’t imagine her parents are making her life easy,” Anya said.

“A reasonable point.” He stepped aside for Lucky and Zora to file by. “However, there’s a difference between berating a child, as they do, and teaching her that concentration and strategy pay off.”

Hoping his uncle would move on so he could have Anya to himself again, Jack narrowed his eyes. “Yes, Monopoly is an excellent metaphor for life.”

“Also, I like to win.” With a grin, Rod departed.

“You didn’t run into the parents, did you?” Anya’s cheeks had regained some of their healthy pink color. “Considering the legal issues, that would have been awkward.”

“We aren’t suicidal,” Jack assured her. “Helen asked Portia to phone when she landed, so we knew when to clear out.”

“Then how do you know what happened when they got there?”

“Helen called.” Rod had said the older woman had been near tears on the phone.

“Was it bad?”

“Vince stormed into the house and called Tiff a spoiled brat.” Although Jack had never met the man in person, he’d seen pictures. Vince came across as large and intimidating, even in a headshot.

“He sounds awful.” Anya’s dark eyes smoldered. “What a bully.”

“Tiff’s not easily cowed.” Jack was proud of his niece. “She had to work hard at appearing contrite, according to Helen. Then she took your advice and cried to her mom about how much she’d missed her grandmother. That it was cruel to deprive an old lady of her grandchildren. Also, she mentioned something about spiderwebs and dust.”

“Did it work?”

“Helen thinks her daughter was swayed, but there’s no telling what Vince will decide.” Jack’s aunt had always struck him as a strong person—maybe a little too strong, in view of the way she’d treated Rod—but she seemed unwilling or unable to stand up to her second husband. “Even if he agrees, they might choose to fly Helen to San Diego rather than letting Tiff and Amber come here.”

“Let’s hope not.” It was Rod, toting a small reading lamp. “The girls need a break before those people crush their spirits.”

“Tiffany doesn’t strike me as crushable,” Anya said. “But if she runs away again, she might end up who knows where.”

Jack had no intention of allowing that to happen. “I made it very clear that if she can’t reach Rod or Helen, I’d meet her anywhere, anytime.”

Her hand fluttered to his arm. “You really care about her. That’s so sweet.”

He fought down the instinct to gather her close. “Of course.”

Rod cleared his throat, but apparently reconsidered whatever he’d been about to say and vanished toward the parking lot. For once, he’d picked up on the vibes around him and showed a trace of sensitivity. And I’m sure I’ll hear about it later.

Anya lifted her hand. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Jack told her.

“Listen.” In the dappled sunlight, she raised her face to his. The soft light emphasized the velvet texture of her skin and the fullness of her lips. “We should meet for coffee. Or tea. Or juice.”

Finally, she was ready to move past this tough patch in their relationship. “Any beverage will do.” Encouraged that she’d taken this step of her own volition, Jack cupped her hands in his. “Now that you’re moving to Karen’s house, we won’t be running into each other outside of work. I’d like to remedy that. I miss you.”

She swayed closer, then slid her hands free and scooted back. If he’d been paying attention to their surroundings, he’d have heard the footsteps, too. Jack would gladly have kicked Lucky and Zora, except that might have made them drop the TV they were carrying.

Agonizing seconds passed. When they were alone again, he asked, “What day is good for you?”

“For what?”

“Drinks.”

“Oh, that.” Anya studied him as if seeking the answer to an unasked question. “Just suppose...what if Tiffany and her sister had to move away somewhere that you and Rod would never see them? I mean, if it was best for them. Like, witness protection.”

What a bizarre idea. “There are no circumstances under which my nieces would not need their father,” Jack responded vehemently.

“Oh.”

She seemed to shrink away.

What was that about? Surely she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. “I could meet you tomorrow afternoon when you get off.” Jack worked an overnight shift on Sundays in labor and delivery, so he had Mondays free. Well, free aside from sleeping.

Rod bustled past on the walkway, whistling and keeping his gaze trained ahead. He didn’t have to be so obvious about ignoring them, but it was better than if he’d stopped to gab.

“No, the whole thing is a bad idea.” Anya stood up. “We work together. Let’s keep it professional.”

“Wait a minute.” She was the one who’d proposed to meet for a drink. “Is this a game?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Jack brushed off his slacks as he stood. “I realize you weren’t feeling well...”

“Probably low blood pressure,” she said.

“Regardless, that’s no excuse for jerking me around.” He’d interrupted his breakfast plans and overtaxed his muscles, which would now probably hurt like hell during the long night ahead. That was all fine—she hadn’t requested his assistance, and he didn’t begrudge a few aches and pains—but it was unfair to suggest they meet for coffee and then behave as if he had pressured her. “If you’d rather I kept my distance, fine. But don’t issue invitations you don’t mean.”

“I didn’t...it wasn’t like that.” A familiar pucker appeared between her eyes.