“Dr. Rourke asked me to drop off some prenatal vitamins for Natalie.

“I was downstairs at the lab, so I just popped up.”

“I’m sorry?” Patrick couldn’t make sense of the nurse’s explanation. Why would Natalie be collecting someone else’s prenatal vitamins?

“We didn’t have any when she came in.”

“When she came in?” he repeated, feeling as if he’d missed some vital point.

It was six weeks since he’d made love to Natalie. And he had used protection.

Natalie might have consulted with Dr. Rourke for a routine physical. But there was no reason for the obstetrician to send over prenatal vitamins unless…

…his secretary was pregnant.

Special deliveries straight to the heart!

Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby

(HAR #962, 3/03)

Prescription: Marry Her Immediately

(HAR #971, 5/03)

Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe

(HAR #978, 7/03)

Dear Reader,

This month we have a wonderful lineup of stories, guaranteed to warm you on these last chilly days of winter. First, Charlotte Douglas kicks things off with Surprise Inheritance, the third installment in Harlequin American Romance’s MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA series, in which a sexy sheriff is reunited with the woman he’s always loved when she returns to town to claim her inheritance.

Next, THE BABIES OF DOCTORS CIRCLE, Jacqueline Diamond’s new miniseries centered around a maternity and well-baby clinic, premieres this month with Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby. In this sparkling story, an unforgettable night of passion between a secretary and her handsome employer leads to an unexpected pregnancy.

Also available this month is Sweeping the Bride Away by Michele Dunaway. A bride-to-be is all set to wed “Mr. Boring” until she hires a rugged contractor who makes her pulse race and gives her second thoughts about her upcoming nuptials. Rounding things out is Professor & the Pregnant Nanny by Emily Dalton. This heartwarming story pairs a single dad in need of a nanny for his three adorable children with a woman who is alone, pregnant and in need of a job.

Enjoy this month’s offerings as Harlequin American Romance continues to celebrate twenty years of publishing the best in contemporary category romance fiction. Be sure to come back next month for more stories guaranteed to touch your heart!

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Diagnosis: Expecting Boss’s Baby

Jacqueline Diamond

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jacqueline Diamond comes from a long line of babies. In addition, her father was the doctor who delivered her. At the time, he was a country doctor in Menard, Texas, and later went on to become a psychiatrist in Louisville, Kentucky, and Nashville, Tennessee. Jackie now lives in Orange County, California, with her husband, two sons and two formerly stray cats. You can write to Jackie at P.O. Box 1315, Brea, CA 92822, or by e-mail at JDiamondfriends@aol.com.

Books by Jacqueline Diamond

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

79—THE DREAM NEVER DIES

196—AN UNEXPECTED MAN

218—UNLIKELY PARTNERS

239—THE CINDERELLA DARE

270—CAPERS AND RAINBOWS

279—GHOST OF A CHANCE

315—FLIGHT OF MAGIC

351—BY LEAPS AND BOUNDS

406—OLD DREAMS, NEW DREAMS

446—THE TROUBLE WITH TERRY

491—A DANGEROUS GUY

583—THE RUNAWAY BRIDE

615—YOURS, MINE AND OURS

631—THE COWBOY AND THE HEIRESS

642—ONE HUSBAND TOO MANY

645—DEAR LONELY IN L.A….

674—MILLION-DOLLAR MOMMY

687—DADDY WARLOCK

716—A REAL-LIVE SHEIKH

734—THE COWBOY AND THE SHOTGUN BRIDE

763—LET’S MAKE A BABY!

791—ASSIGNMENT: GROOM!

804—MISTLETOE DADDY

833—I DO! I DO!

855—DADDY, M.D.

875—KISS A HANDSOME STRANGER

889—SURPRISE, DOC! YOU’RE A DADDY!

913—THE IMPROPERLY PREGNANT PRINCESS

962—DIAGNOSIS: EXPECTING BOSS’S BABY *

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

435—AND THE BRIDE VANISHES

512—HIS SECRET SON

550—CAPTURED BY A SHEIKH

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

Natalie Winford knew she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. She didn’t regret a minute of it.

Rum punch, she thought. They could both blame it on the rum punch, if they had to blame it on anything.

Outside, she heard the harbor water slap lightly at the yacht. Here in the master cabin, a stray sunbeam through the porthole burnished Patrick Barr’s tanned skin to molten gold as he lay amid the tangled sheets.

Natalie never wanted to move again. She yearned to lie forever in Patrick’s arms, suspended in this magic interval after making love.

“Nat?” he murmured.

“Right here.” At such close range, she was acutely aware of the man’s lime-scented cologne and the well-proportioned build that testified to his high-school and college days as a competitive diver. Playfully she ran her hand across the muscles of his shoulders and back, relishing their sculpted power.

Until now, she’d only been able to dream about touching him. For five years, she’d answered his phone calls, sorted his mail, scheduled his appointments and fantasized about him from a distance. Until today.

When Patrick first took over as administrator of the Doctors Circle Clinic and Birthing Center from his disorganized predecessor, Natalie had been relieved to work for a man she respected. Over the years, her feelings had developed into intense admiration.

Now she drank in every detail of the man in bed beside her. She treasured his strong, sensitive nose and the two pucker lines between his intelligent brown eyes. She cherished his thick brown hair, although it was a little too long because, as usual, he’d been too busy to stop by a barbershop.

Patrick seemed to be making his own assessment of Natalie, she noticed as his gaze trailed from her breasts up to her soft lips. “You always look terrific, but the view is even better without clothes,” he said. After a moment’s reflection, he added ruefully, “On the other hand, I’m afraid we jumped into this situation without thinking.”

“If you’re about to say you wish we hadn’t done this, I’ll kick you out of bed,” Natalie said.

He flashed a warm, masculine smile. “I couldn’t possibly regret it. But…”

“I know.” She sighed. “My behavior hardly meets your high standards.”

Patrick ran his hand through his already rumpled hair. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who needs to set a good example for the community.”

Until she met her boss, Natalie hadn’t known anyone could be so hard on himself or so exacting with his staff. She wished she’d been raised with the same insistence on honesty and integrity, but not everyone had the advantage of two stable parents with high ideals.

In any case, making love with Patrick didn’t break the rules as far as Natalie was concerned. A twenty-nine-year-old woman had a right to find happiness with a single man, even if they were boss and secretary. And even if it might only last one afternoon.

“You did set a good example today, during the cruise,” she said. “The community loved what you said about Doctors Circle’s future plans. That’s why the pledges came rolling in.”

The luncheon outing aboard Patrick’s yacht had launched a nine-month-long Endowment Fund drive aimed at raising thirty million dollars, enough to put Doctors Circle on firm financial footing for years to come. The movers and shakers of Serene Beach, California, had responded by opening their checkbooks.

Most of them were aware that the yacht, Melissa, was named after the infant sister Patrick never knew. It was her loss from lung problems and prematurity that had inspired his parents, once they overcame poverty and rose to prominence in the business community, to establish a center to save other babies.

After the guests and crew left, Natalie and Patrick had sat on deck toasting their success with rum punch. They’d been exhilarated, energized and intensely attuned to each other after weeks of working twelve-hour days together.

She didn’t know what had finally overcome their inhibitions, and she didn’t care. She just wanted to stay here in his cabin forever and forget that the rest of the world existed.

“It was a great kickoff, thanks in large part to you.” Patrick stretched lazily. Although the August sun lingered outside, it was past seven o’clock.

“If only they could see you now.” Teasingly, Natalie traced a finger down the center of his chest. “On second thought, I’d rather keep you to myself.”

“You’re in a wonderful mood,” he said.

“You ought to be, too.”

“I am.” He pulled her tighter against him. “You know, I just got a terrific idea.”

“For the next fund-raiser?” Natalie asked.

“Something a little more personal.” Angling toward her, Patrick cupped the back of her head with his hand. He scanned her face as if trying to memorize every detail, and then his mouth claimed hers.

His kiss exploded with yearning. Natalie melted against him, yielding to his tongue’s demands and savoring the sensation of being held close.

When Patrick lifted his head, she kissed the V of his collarbone. “I think I figured out your idea.”

“Do you approve?”

“Utterly,” she said.

He reached into a drawer for more protection, and then he pushed her gently down against the sheet.

NATALIE AWOKE in darkness, filled with dismay. Her subconscious mind had finally registered what they’d done, and the likelihood that it would lead to disaster.

Patrick slept on his back, with one hand resting on her shoulder. Natalie brushed her cheek against it.

She knew his hands well. They were large hands, capable of carving the air in an expansive gesture or dashing his name across a document that granted medical services to a poor woman.

And her hands? They’d served plenty of hamburgers while she made her way through high school. They’d also signed a marriage license with a man who turned out to be an alcoholic, and a few years later they’d signed the divorce papers.

Her hands had written something else, too, an entry on her job application that hadn’t been completely honest. Natalie shuddered to think that Patrick might someday find out.

Well, he wasn’t going to. She’d let matters go way too far tonight, but there was still time to run damage control.

Quietly, she rose and dressed in her tailored slacks and sailor-style blouse. With the brush from her purse, she tucked her blond hair into its accustomed bun.

It was time to go, before Patrick awoke and realized what a mistake this had been. Or, worse, failed to realize it. The better he got to know her, the more likely it became that he would discover some unpleasant truths.

There was only one course to follow. At work, Natalie would be all business, signaling Patrick to keep his distance.

They’d pretend that their going to bed together never happened. At least they could still work together, sharing the closeness they’d developed over these past five years. And she’d hang on to her pride.

But she’d discovered a passion in herself that had lain dormant all her days. Even when she was married, she’d never felt more than passing pleasure. With Patrick, only with Patrick, did she truly come alive.

It hurt to know that she might never hold him again, but that was all right. Natalie could bear it, as long as she didn’t lose him entirely.

ON MONDAY Patrick had a headache. He knew it was partly from overindulging in rum punch the previous day and partly from listening to the construction work going on downstairs.

The East Wing, which housed the administration services and the radiology department, was one of three structures that made up Doctors Circle, along with the Birthing Center and the West Wing office building. Downstairs in the East Wing, space formerly rented by an outside pediatric clinic was being converted into an infertility center.

Wham-wham-wham! went something that sounded like a pile driver, although Patrick couldn’t imagine why such heavy equipment was needed. The pounding throbbed right through his brain.

He had a lot of work to do today, catching up on paperwork and planning for the next big fund-raising event, an Oktoberfest celebration. Yesterday’s donations, while generous, paled before the amount of money needed to cushion the center against the sort of financial upheaval that had nearly swamped it a few years earlier.

Patrick fumbled in his drawer for an aspirin. No such luck. Wouldn’t you know that in a medical office the last thing you could find was a simple pain remedy?

He punched the intercom. “Nat? Could you come in here, please?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied crisply.

A moment later, Natalie entered his office. The breezy woman from the yacht had vanished. Today, her hair was pinned back and her body hidden beneath a trim navy-and-white suit with a red scarf at the throat.

Patrick peered at her blearily across his broad oak desk. At the moment, he was in no shape to try to renew their camaraderie. “I was hoping you had an aspirin,” he managed to say. “I can’t think straight.”

“Sorry. I’m not authorized to dispense medication.”

He insisted on strict rules, but not that strict. “You don’t need an M.D. to hand out aspirin.”

Natalie smiled. “That was a joke. Guess you’re not in the mood, huh? Hold on, I’ll get you some.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?” he asked. “I mean, World War III going on downstairs?”

“The assistant head of accounting and the chief radiologist came in to complain.” Clearly, they hadn’t fazed Natalie, who looked cool and collected as usual. “I reminded them that they used to beef about the noisy kids from the pediatric clinic. At least this is temporary. Hold on.”

She ducked out, leaving an image of angelic freshness imprinted on Patrick’s brain. Despite the fact that his head felt swollen to the size of a basketball, he took pleasure in his secretary’s appearance.

For years he’d tried not to notice her bright blue eyes and lively face. Especially he’d struggled to ignore the figure that, despite the cloaking effect of her tailored suits, was nothing short of delicious.

Patrick had never expected to breach the unspoken barrier between director and employee. He knew himself, and getting involved with any woman, particularly one he worked with, was a losing proposition. It also appeared that he might be taking advantage of his position, something he had no intention of doing.

Yet their lovemaking had surpassed anything in his experience. Even with a blinding headache, he was ready—well, almost ready—for a rematch, if only he could figure out what to do about his aching morals.

The door squeaked as Natalie returned with two pills and a cup of water. “Here you go.” She handed them over.

When their hands touched, an awareness of her heat and vibrancy pulsed through Patrick. Against his will, desire quickened his blood. “I feel better already.”

“You haven’t taken them yet.”

“I don’t really need to—” Wham-wham-wham! went the downstairs equipment, dispelling his objections. Up went the cup and down went the pills. “What on earth are they doing?” he asked when he could speak again.

“I think they’re chipping away some tile,” Natalie said.

Patrick should have known that, since he’d been involved in every step of the remodeling plans. But right now, with the sight of Natalie stirring male hormones into a frenzy, he couldn’t recall much of anything.

He needed to find out how she felt. “About yesterday…” he began.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Now, I’d better get back to my desk.” She turned to leave.

“Nat!”

“Yes, sir?”

“First of all, stop calling me sir.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said.

Patrick regarded her in confusion. He was much better at formulating goals and taking command than at reading people, especially the people closest to him. “We need to discuss where we stand.”

Natalie took a deep breath, a movement that swelled her generous breasts. Patrick’s hands still retained an impression of their softness, centered by the stiff arousal of her nipples. Oh, he was sure in control of himself today, wasn’t he, he thought wryly.

“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to talk about last night,” she said.

Patrick respected her privacy, but he felt he owed her. “Please, have a seat. If I offended you last night, I apologize.”

“You didn’t. Not at all.” Natalie perched on the edge of an upholstered chair. “It was just as much my fault.”

“I’m your employer, which makes the responsibility all mine.”

“Look, Dr. Barr.” She leveled her blue gaze at him, to devastating effect. He wanted her so much he could hardly breathe. “Let’s pretend the incident never happened.”

“What incident?”

“You and me…on the boat!” Natalie gave an angry little bounce on her chair.

“You’re referring to our lovemaking as an incident?” For Patrick, the experience had been delirious. And, of course, a huge error in judgment.

“I’m being discreet,” Natalie said. “Which is a quality we both lost on your boat, along with our clothes.”

“I agree,” he said reluctantly. “Nevertheless—”

“The point is, we’re simply not suited to each other.” Natalie had retreated behind a mask. “What happened was great, but it was a one-time thing.”

Patrick knew he ought to feel relieved. Her practical attitude meant they could get on with their work, which was what mattered, but he was oddly reluctant to let her go. “We should discuss this over dinner.”

“In this town, if we ate dinner together, everyone would be gabbing about it,” Natalie said.

“We’ve eaten dinner together before,” he said.

“In the cafeteria with stacks of files between us. That doesn’t count.” His secretary stood up. “Look, Dr. Barr, there’s no point in arguing about it. Last night was—what do you call it?—an anomaly. Let’s go back to the way things were. No hard feelings, okay?”

Patrick arose also. His headache had faded, so now he was thinking clearly.

He respected her obvious regret about their liaison. He, too, knew it hadn’t been a good idea, even though a rebellious part of him desperately wanted to repeat the mistake. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes, Dr. Barr.”

“I have one request,” he said.

“What’s that?” Natalie’s eyes narrowed.

“Call me by my first name,” Patrick said. “You haven’t called me Dr. Barr since the first six months we worked together. People would wonder about it.”

“Okay.” She looked relieved that he hadn’t asked anything more difficult. “Excuse me, I hear someone in the outer office. I’ll go check.”

She sounded like her old, cheerful self. Apparently she was glad he’d agreed not to pursue her.

Good. His brief insanity yesterday hadn’t spoiled their friendship or their highly effective working relationship. The last thing he wanted was for anything to interfere with saving the medical center for which his father had given his life.

NATALIE HELD OPEN Patrick’s door for Spencer Sorrell, chief of the Doctors Circle Well-Baby Clinic. Unlike the pediatric clinic that had vacated its offices downstairs and relocated to a new building down the street, his department was an official arm of the medical center, not merely a tenant.

He’d been grousing a lot lately, mostly about his contention that his department should get the newly remodeled offices. Spencer, who believed he should have become administrator, instead of Patrick, always found something to complain about.

He brushed by Natalie without a word, which didn’t surprise her. The senior pediatrician rarely spoke to her, and when he did, it was in a clipped, impersonal manner, as if she were a robot.

Spencer’s brother, Finn, was the town’s chief of police. Finn knew way too much about Natalie’s family and her past, and it appeared that he’d shared that information with Spencer.

Her cheeks burning, she sat behind her desk. She was angry at Spencer for his snobbery and angry at herself for caring.

Natalie knew better than anyone what an insignificant position she occupied in the social whirl of Serene Beach. That didn’t mean she lacked pride, only that she saw the world as it was.

Well, she didn’t aspire to high society, and she didn’t feel inferior to anyone, either. She only wished she could erase a few parts of her past.

In particular, she wished she hadn’t lied on her job application.

A MONTH LATER, on a Saturday morning, Natalie did something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. She threw up.

Aware that her period was overdue, she drove to a pharmacy for a pregnancy kit. At home she followed the directions, and a few minutes later found herself staring in disbelief at the pink test strip.

How was this possible? Patrick had used protection both times during their lovemaking.

Yet she knew from working around pregnant women that condoms weren’t infallible. Sometimes they slipped or cracked. That must be what had happened, because she hadn’t slept with another man since her divorce.

A sense of wonder softened Natalie’s dismay. She was carrying Patrick’s child, a wonderful little boy or girl who’d be smart and sweet and loving.

Then she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked almost exactly like a photo of her own mother as a young woman.

“You’re me all over again,” her mother used to say. But, as a teenager, Natalie had resolved that she would never, never repeat Angie’s mistakes. Three deadbeat husbands, five children and an inability to keep a job had created a chaotic household and made Angie’s kids outsiders at school.

Even when Natalie married an older man at the age of twenty-one, she’d been careful not to get pregnant right away. Her caution had been validated when, over the next three years, her husband, Ralph, began drinking, lost his job and ran up debts. He’d vanished, leaving his wife to pay them off.

She’d been working for a temp agency when she learned about the secretarial opening at Doctors Circle. Patrick’s predecessor, Dr. Grier, had been tyrannical and grumpy, so there’d been frequent turnover in the position.

Knowing she had the right skills, Natalie had sailed into the interview with high hopes. It went well, too. She knew as soon as she met Dr. Grier—nicknamed Dr. Grief by the staff—that she could handle his moods.

Only when she began filling in the application did she discover that she didn’t qualify on purely technical grounds. It seemed unfair and she desperately needed the salary and benefits. So she’d lied, and not just about one thing, either.

She still believed she’d made a wise choice. It was impossible to imagine her life without this job, without the staff at Doctors Circle who’d become like a family, and without Patrick.

Yet she was ashamed, too. Well, the heck with that! Natalie thought in a surge of defiance. Let other people walk a mile in her shoes before they passed judgment.

Restlessly she wandered into her living room, which was dominated by rabbits. There were china rabbits, stuffed rabbits, crocheted rabbits, plastic rabbits and even one rabbit said to be carved out of moon rock, although she doubted it. They crowded the shelves and several end tables.

Her collection had begun at the age of ten when her father gave her his one and only gift: a stuffed rabbit he’d won at a carnival ring toss. Two months later he’d disappeared from her life. Although she’d long ago outgrown her childish belief that the gift proved he loved her, images of rabbits still boosted her spirits.

She desperately needed a boost now. How would Patrick react to the news that he was going to be a father? Would his dark eyes glimmer with anticipation, or would he simply be shocked?

With his strong sense of honor, he’d probably feel obligated to marry her. Maybe, she hoped, he might even be glad for the excuse. But she had too much pride to marry Patrick without admitting what she’d done, and she knew what that would mean.

A few months ago he’d fired a lab technician for lying about his qualifications. He wouldn’t tolerate deception, he’d said. Despite their close relationship, what were the odds he’d give Natalie a break?

If she leveled with him, she’d destroy everything: Patrick’s trust, their future together, maybe even her ability to work for him.

She needed advice. The person to consult, she decided, was her friend Amy Ravenna, a patient counselor at Doctors Circle. Amy had good common sense and, at thirty-three, four more years of experience in life than Natalie did.

Picking up the phone, she dialed Amy’s number. With luck, her friend’s advice would prevent her from making some stupid mistake that might ruin everything.

Chapter Two

“Are those flowers for me?” Patrick’s sister paused in the high-ceilinged foyer to sniff the elaborate arrangement. Her sweatpants and T-shirt were damp where they covered her swimsuit. “I don’t suppose so, since you didn’t know I was coming over.”

Patrick finished knotting his tie in front of the hall mirror. “I’m afraid they aren’t, but I knew you’d be here. You use the pool every Saturday.”

“How’d you figure that out?” Bernie squawked. “Usually I swim and leave without bothering you. I figured you didn’t know I was here.”

“I can see the pool from my bedroom,” Patrick reminded her. “Sis, I enjoy having you over, and the house is yours as much as mine.”

“You bought out my half, remember?” She pushed back a curly strand of brown hair. “Honestly, I’m all grown up and married now. Mike and I have our own house. I just like to borrow the pool.”

“Anytime.” He meant it. Having grown up in the shadow of their older sister’s stillbirth, Patrick had treasured the strong-willed baby who came along when he was four. There’d been times during his teens when he was embarrassed to be seen with his kid sis, but the two had become close over the years.

They’d comforted each other after their father’s death five years ago, and again after their mother succumbed to cancer three years later. Bernie, a natural mother, liked to bring over casseroles, make sure Patrick kept healthy food in the refrigerator and examine the sprawling Barr mansion to make sure his latest housekeeper was properly cleaning the expanses of glass, tile and blond wood.

“So who’s the lucky lady?” Bernie indicated the flowers again.

“Noreen McLanahan called in sick for today’s luncheon.” The event to honor volunteers, of whom Noreen was one of the most prominent, was scheduled for noon at the Serene Beach Yacht Club. “I figured a widow who lives alone could use some cheering up, so I’m going to visit her and give them to her.”

It wasn’t merely a matter of charity. Mrs. Mc-Lanahan, one of the center’s biggest financial supporters and a member of its board of directors, was a peppery personality whose wry observations always kept Patrick laughing. He’d have treasured her even if she was penniless.

“You’ve got a kind heart for a grumpy old bachelor,” Bernie said.

“Gee, thanks.”

To his surprise, his sister wrapped her arms around him. Although tall and athletic, she only came to his shoulders. “Excuse me for being sentimental, but I’m proud of you.”

“For taking flowers to a sick woman?” Patrick teased as Bernie stepped back, her cross-training shoes squeaking on the marble floor. “I must be a real creep most of the time if you’re impressed by this.”

“Yeah, right.” His sister traced a finger along the front table. It came up clean, to her evident satisfaction. The last housekeeper, who’d lasted only six months, had left dust so thick Bernie could write notes in it, and did. “The truth is, you make me feel guilty. I compensate by fussing over you.”

“Guilty? About what?”

“About my choosing to give up medical school to stay home and have kids while you’re shepherding our family’s legacy,” she said.

“You made the best choice for you.” Patrick adored his two young nephews. More than that, his sister’s happy home served as an emotional anchor for him.

“What about your right to make choices? You never wanted to be an administrator, but you stepped up to bat when you saw the clinic falling apart,” Bernie said.

“I just wish I’d done it sooner,” Patrick said.

For as long as he could remember, he’d been fired by a sense of mission inspired by his older sister’s stillbirth. Initially, it had been his motivation for applying to medical school, but later he’d discovered he enjoyed practicing medicine for its own sake.

He’d been so caught up in his pediatric practice that he hadn’t noticed the toll Doctors Circle was taking on his father. Even the Barr fortune, earned from Joe’s invention of self-cleaning window glass, wasn’t enough to underwrite all the center’s charities and compensate for Dr. Grier’s sloppy management. As chairman of the board, Joe had thrown himself into fund-raising with a frenzy, with the result that he dropped dead of a heart attack.

Patrick should have realized that the aging man was pushing himself too hard. He should have given up his practice sooner to take on the administrative job.

He couldn’t turn back the clock. He’d spent five years reorganizing the day-to-day operations and putting the budget on a sound footing, and now he was ensuring the future of Doctors Circle by establishing an Endowment Fund.

“No one could have forced Dad to slow down,” Bernie said. “He was obsessed with the center, even more than Mom was. I know he was upset about their losing a child, but these things happen to lots of people.”

“Dad didn’t see it that way,” Patrick said. “Did you know he blamed himself for Melissa’s death?”

Bernie’s face scrunched in surprise. “No! Why would he do that?”

“While Mom was pregnant, he spent all his time either at his janitorial job or out in the workshop, fiddling with his inventions,” Patrick explained. “He told me that if he’d paid more attention, he’d have seen how she was suffering and insisted on better care.”

“They couldn’t afford it,” Bernie said.

“He’d have borrowed the money if he had to.” Patrick could still see the lines of pain etched in Joe Barr’s face as he’d made this confession. Melissa’s stillbirth had been fresh in the aging man’s memory, even though decades had passed since the unhappy event.

How ironic that Joe had pulled himself out of poverty, gaining a fortune from marketing his self-cleaning glass, yet had never really enjoyed the money. He’d poured much of it into Doctors Circle, which he’d established fifteen years ago. For Patrick’s father, it had been both a form of atonement and a sacred obligation.

“I wish I’d known so I could have set him straight,” Bernie said. “Problems with the placenta can’t always be corrected, even now. Mom never blamed him.”

“I guess when we feel guilty, logic has nothing to do with it,” Patrick said.

“Are you speaking of yourself?” she asked.

“Me?”

“Well, you’re the one driving yourself like a maniac for the Endowment Fund,” she said. “It won’t bring Dad back.”

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better,” he said. “The truth is, I enjoy my work.”

“You used to whistle more when you were in pediatrics.” Bernie straightened a large, modern canvas that faced the curving staircase.

“I whistled?” Patrick didn’t recall that particular habit.

“You also told more jokes,” his sister said.

“I collected jokes to make my patients laugh,” he protested. He’d loved working in pediatrics, but what he was doing now was crucial. “Sis, I’ve got to get going. I want to allow plenty of time to visit with Mrs. McLanahan.”

“Don’t let me stop you. I’m leaving, too. There’s a pot of orange-glazed chicken in the refrigerator, by the way,” Bernie said. “You can eat it tonight or tomorrow.” With a wave, she went out the front door.

Patrick locked up, then carried the flowers to his car and set them on the rear seat. He eased the finely tooled sedan along the driveway, past the glistening pool.

He stole a glimpse at the high bluffs. The rear of the estate provided a spectacular view of Serene Beach and its harbor. Far below, September sunlight played over a butterfly swarm of sails.

The driveway curved left, away from the view. Patrick stopped at the estate’s ironwork arch and waited for traffic to clear on St. Michel Drive.

In his childhood, this street had been little used. That was before the two-story medical buildings had sprung up on the far side, with their white stucco exteriors and red-tile roofs.

The family had built Doctors Circle on the land where an orange grove once stood, situated so that the back entrance to the Birthing Center faced the front of their estate. As a result, Patrick didn’t have to commute far to his office.

Seeing no more cars, he turned right and drove the few blocks to Mrs. McLanahan’s home. To his disappointment, the houseman reported she was sleeping. Patrick left the flowers with a note wishing her a speedy recovery.

He had plenty of time before the luncheon. All dressed up and nowhere to go. It was a rarity not to have every minute committed, and against his better judgment, he knew what he wanted to do.

It would be childish to head inland toward Natalie’s apartment. For heaven’s sake, he had almost no chance of glimpsing her unless he parked and rang her doorbell, which he wasn’t going to do.

This past month, he’d watched for any indication that she hadn’t meant it when she pushed him away. Like an inviting smile, a touch on the shoulder, a mention of their night together.

There hadn’t been any. He kept telling himself it was for the best, yet he missed their closeness with an unaccustomed ache.

He was better off alone, though. Work absorbed and energized Patrick, and relationships only interfered.

Both of his previous involvements had failed miserably. During his internship, a girlfriend had broken off with him because of his inattention. Years later, a lawyer he’d dated had also called it quits, citing his long hours and frequent cancelations of their plans. She’d told him she hoped he never had children, because he’d make a lousy father.

She was right. Much as Patrick enjoyed being around kids, his work came first, and always would.

Natalie was right to keep him at arm’s length. Patrick certainly didn’t want to lose her the way he’d lost the other two women. But like a teenager with a crush, he was going to cruise by her place in the hope of catching an unguarded glimpse of her. A man was allowed the occasional bit of foolishness as long as it did no harm, he told himself.

He drove inland to the flat mesa area of Serene Beach. Palm trees, azaleas and calla lilies dressed up the modest homes and apartments.

Along the sidewalks clattered kids on tricycles and preteens on skateboards. Patrick drove cautiously, remembering from his emergency-room rotations what could happen when children darted into the street.

The fourplex where Natalie lived lay in the middle of a block. Patrick had dropped her off once when her car was in the shop, and he’d never forgotten the location.

A rental van stood double-parked in front of the building. As he swung past, he saw stacks of furniture through the open rear door, from which someone had lowered a ramp. Obviously these amateurs didn’t realize or perhaps didn’t care that they were blocking several cars.

At the next corner, Patrick made a U-turn and swung back. This time, he spotted Natalie’s small green hatchback at the curb, hemmed in by the truck.

What now? He had time to kill and a strong desire to see her. Irresolutely, he parked across the street and sat considering his options.

Before he could decide how to proceed, Natalie emerged on the upper balcony of the apartment building. With her blond hair floating in the breeze, she took his breath away.

Even from here, he could see the sweet fullness of her mouth and the way a T-shirt clung tantalizingly to her rounded breasts as she descended the exterior stairs. His body reacted with a jolt of arousal.

Natalie was halfway to her car when she stopped to glare at the truck. It looked as if she was saying, “What the heck?”

He got out and strode across the street. “Looks like you’ve got a problem.”

She blinked up at him. “Patrick?”

“I was driving by.” That sounded unlikely, didn’t it? “I was on my way to being early,” he explained, and decided that was even worse. “Never mind why I’m here. Need some help?”

“I’m going to visit Amy Ravenna. I’d like to know what idiots left this here,” she said, then answered her own question. “They must be moving into the ground-floor apartment. The tenants moved out last week.”

He followed her to the unit. The door stood open, a few items of furniture visible inside. A preteen girl and a little boy sat watching cartoons on a television placed on the floor.

“Hi! I’m Natalie,” she said. “We need for somebody to move the truck. Where are your parents?”

“They went to get lunch,” the girl said.

“And left you alone?” Patrick asked.

“I’m twelve.” She kept her gaze fixed on the screen.

“When will they be back?” Natalie asked.

“I don’t know.”

The two of them retreated. “Are you in a hurry to meet Amy?” he asked.

“She said I could drop by any time in the next hour or so,” she said. “But I hate waiting. I’m also afraid I’m going to chew out those blockheads when they get back. That’s not a good way to meet my neighbors.”

“I’d be happy to give you a ride.” There was nothing wrong with enjoying her company as long as they kept it light.

Natalie considered his offer. “Amy did say she’d like to go shopping later. I guess she could drop me back here.”

“Done.” Taking her elbow, Patrick guided her toward his car.

“Why did you say you were here?” she asked as she slid into her seat.

“Passing through,” Patrick mumbled, and closed the door as soon as she was tucked inside.

When he climbed behind the wheel, he felt Natalie’s presence surround him like an embrace. “It smells nice in here,” she said. “Do I detect a hint of flowers?”

Patrick started the engine. “I took some to Mrs. McLanahan while she’s laid low.”

“Her arthritis is really painful,” Natalie said. “I dropped by last night with Chinese food. She says it’s okay to cheat on her low-cholesterol diet once in a while.”

“That was kind of you.” He hadn’t realized it was a flareup of arthritis that had sidelined the usually vivacious widow. “You’re always doing things for people. I know they appreciate it.”

“My sister Alana says I help too much.” She snuggled against the soft leather upholstery. “She calls me an enabler, but that’s not true.”

“Helping people doesn’t mean you’re underwriting their bad habits.” Patrick stopped the car at Serene Boulevard. “Which way?”

“Amy lives down in West Serene, near the Black Cat Café.” The club was known for its large deli sandwiches and funky music. “Is that too far out of your way?” She knew, of course, about the luncheon.

“Not by much.” Patrick didn’t mind a little inconvenience. He had plenty of time.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Nat studying him. She pressed her lips together, then touched them with the tip of her tongue as if she had something to say but wasn’t sure whether she wanted to say it.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“Why, do I look different?” Natalie said.

“Your cheeks are kind of flushed,” he said. “You aren’t ill, are you?”

“I feel great.”

“Good.” That conversation had gone nowhere, he thought, and wished he knew what else to say. In silence, they headed south on Serene Boulevard, passing the intersection with Bordeaux Way that led to the main entrance of Doctors Circle.

“How do you feel about kids?” Natalie asked out of the blue.

The question stopped him cold. “That’s funny,” Patrick said. “My sister made the same point earlier.”

“What point?” It was her turn to look confused.

“She believes I was happier when I was in pediatrics. Although I don’t understand how you’d know that, since we weren’t working together then,” he said. “I do miss the children. But in the long run I’m helping more of them in my current position.”

“I meant…” She let the sentence trail off. “Look, there’s a crafts fair at Outlook Park.” Ahead on the right, Patrick saw a cheerful cluster of booths amid the greenery. “Can we stop for a minute? I need to get a couple of presents.”

“Fine with me.” He rarely browsed through crafts sales, but with Natalie, it ought to be fun.

They parked in the lot and joined the shoppers. Quickly Natalie selected a set of enamel earrings for one friend and a fanciful hat for a niece.

“I’ve got lots of nieces and nephews,” she explained as she chose a couple of extra items for future occasions. “Oh, this one’s for me!” She picked up a stuffed bunny.

“You’re loyal to your rabbit motif, I see.” Patrick had given Natalie a bunny paperweight for Secretary’s Day, along with lunch and flowers. Thank goodness his sister had reminded him of the event and pointed out the bunny images on Natalie’s coffee mug.

“It’s too bad I didn’t pick a rarer animal,” his secretary said, skirting a stroller. “If I collected hedgehogs, I wouldn’t buy so many curios. But rabbits appeal to me.”

When she stopped at another booth, Patrick volunteered to carry her rapidly filling shopping bag. “I can at least make myself useful.”

“Thanks.” She handed it over. “You’re not bored, are you?”

“I enjoy watching you shop,” he said truthfully.

“Are you sure—Oh, what a cute little coin-box wishing well! I’ll buy it for Amy.”

She looked far more animated here than at work. Younger and more relaxed, too, the way she had that day on the yacht, Patrick noted as Natalie added yet another item to her purchases.

He imagined he could still smell the sea breeze in her hair. With her, that afternoon, he’d forgotten everything except the joy in her eyes and the luminous pleasure of their coupling.

“Natalie!” A woman with a small boy in tow stopped in front of them. “I never got a chance to thank you for last weekend.”

“It was fun,” Natalie said.

“Baby-sitting a toddler may be fun, but it’s also hard work.” To Patrick, the woman explained, “My husband was in the hospital. Thanks to Natalie, I was able to stay at his bedside. Are you one of her brothers?”

“A friend,” he said. “I hope your husband’s better.”

“He’s fine now.” The woman hung on as her little boy tried to pull free. “Natalie does more for people than anyone else in our church.”

“I do not!”

“We all know we can count on you,” she said. “And we appreciate it.”

Abruptly the little boy broke loose, lost his balance and fell. A wail tore through the air.

“What’s the matter, Joey?” His mother squatted beside him.

“Knee hurts!” He pointed to red scrape marks.

“Let me see.” Patrick knelt, set aside the shopping bag and took out his handkerchief. “Let’s wipe that off until your mom has a chance to wash it.”

“Please don’t get your handkerchief all—” The woman stopped, because it was too late.

Carefully Patrick cleared away the clinging bits of grass and pebble. “You’re very brave,” he said.

“Big owie,” Joey replied earnestly.

“This is a major owie in anybody’s book,” Patrick agreed. “You know what? You’re going to have a nice scab. Have you ever had a scab before?”

Joey started to nod, then shook his head. He watched the doctor in fascination.

“Don’t pick at the scab,” Patrick said. “Even if it itches. Any time you start to scratch it, clap your hands together, instead. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Joey clapped his hands.

Still in a kneeling position, Patrick took a bow. “Thank you.”

Joey laughed. His mother scooped him up. “You’re wonderful with him. I figured he’d be screaming his head off for the next hour. Can I wash that handkerchief for you?”

“No, thanks.” He stuck it in his pocket. “Just make sure you wash and disinfect the scrape.”

“You bet!”

After the woman was out of earshot, Natalie said, “You were great with Joey. I’m impressed.”

“I’d forgotten how good that feels, working with a child,” Patrick said.

He prided himself on how well he knew his own nature. Yet today both his sister and his secretary had pointed out something that, until this moment, he’d pushed from his mind.

Pediatrics. Maybe he’d get back to it someday. The medical center came first, though.

“That wasn’t why I asked…” Natalie hesitated as they sauntered down the last row of booths. “I didn’t mean whether you like kids as a doctor. I meant…”

Ahead of them, an older woman at a booth waved vigorously toward them. “Look who’s here!” she called.

Pink hair floated around the woman’s head, and despite the warmth of the day, she wore a paisley shawl over a long, shapeless dress. Her booth was hung with wind chimes, while the counter overflowed with stuffed dolls.

Behind the booth, in a chaise longue, reclined an equally eccentric-looking man. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the cutoff sleeves of his T-shirt revealed an eye-catching series of tattoos.

Beside him, Patrick felt Natalie grow tense. Who were these people? he wondered.

The woman gestured them toward her. Natalie released a sigh. “Dr. Barr,” she said as she led him forward, “I’d like you to meet my mother.”

Chapter Three

As Natalie made introductions, she hoped her unpredictable mother wouldn’t say anything offensive. Angie sometimes peppered her speech with four-letter words, and her attitudes toward everything from money to the law were anything but conventional.

Angie seemed too impressed by Patrick to fire off any wild opinions, though, and so did her longtime boyfriend. Although a former biker and drug abuser, Clovis had a good heart.

Only a surprised blink revealed Patrick’s reaction to her odd-looking mother. Otherwise, he was the soul of courtesy. Not that Natalie expected anything less from her diplomatic boss.

“Did you make these yourself?” he asked Angie, examining one of the dolls. “They’re delightful.”

“She makes everything except the wind chimes,” said Clovis. “I make those.”

“You’re both very talented,” Patrick said. “I especially like the dolls’ expressions.” They were appealing, Natalie reflected. “I’d like to buy one for my sister.”

“You think it’s her style?” Natalie had seen the ultramodern home Bernie and her ad-exec husband owned. She couldn’t picture the rustic doll fitting in.

“She collects handmade dolls,” Patrick explained. “She calls it her secret passion. I usually have a hard time picking out gifts, so I’d better buy one now.”

The sight of the doll in his grip reminded Natalie of the baby inside her, and she felt a rush of longing to see him hold their child with this same tenderness. Maybe it would happen. And maybe cows would fly.

“I like your boss,” Angie announced. “You should bring him over for dinner sometime.”

“Sure. He’d be welcome.” Clovis rolled himself a cigarette, using tobacco from a pouch.

Angie’s makeshift cooking was the subject of good-humored family jokes, especially about the Thanksgiving when she’d served her guests frozen turkey dinners with made-from-a-mix macaroni and cheese on the side. Patrick would be a good sport, Natalie thought, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know her relatives quite that intimately.

“I’ll get back to you on that, Mom,” she said.

Patrick took a couple of dolls into the direct sunlight to make his choice. Other shoppers drifted past, and then a well-dressed man stopped to eye Clovis disapprovingly.

From his high forehead to his sour expression, he was almost a dead ringer for Dr. Sorrell. A few more wrinkles and a small scar on his cheek distinguished Police Chief Finn Sorrell.

“What’s in that cigarette?” he demanded.

“Tobacky,” Clovis drawled. “Want a drag, Chief?” He held out the partly smoked stick.

“I’ve got half a mind to take that in for evaluation,” the chief said. “I guess you wouldn’t be stupid enough to smoke something illegal in public, though.”

“If you’re not interested in shopping, maybe you should go make yourself useful somewhere else, Chief.” Angie had never been known to hold her tongue, even around agents of the law. And unfortunately her family had had its share of brushes with Chief Sorrell’s department.

While none of the family had committed any major illegal acts, there’d been several run-ins, including domestic quarrels that got out of hand. The police chief obviously hadn’t forgotten.

He regarded Natalie with a curled lip. “Helping your mom earn a living?” he asked. “I didn’t figure you’d last long at that hospital job.”

She couldn’t believe his nerve. “I’ve been working there nearly six years,” she said. “I’ve had two promotions in title and none-of-your-business how many raises.”

Angie bristled. “You’ve got no call to insult my daughter.”

“That wasn’t an insult, merely an observation.” Abruptly the smug expression vanished from Finn’s face. “Oh, hello, Patrick. I didn’t see you there.”

“How are you, Finn?” The doctor, who apparently hadn’t heard the conversation, returned one of the dolls and took out his wallet. In his expensive suit and tie, he made a decided contrast to the couple behind the booth.

“What brings you here?” the chief asked.

“My sister’s going to love this doll,” Patrick said by way of an answer. “Angie, we ought to start carrying your work at the gift shop. Could you put the Doctors Circle logo on the dolls’ clothing?”

“Sure thing.” Angie enclosed the doll in a sheet of recycled Christmas wrapping paper. “I’ll bring some over when they’re ready.” She handed him a business card. “You can give that to the head of the gift shop, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll do that. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

Natalie prayed that the chief wouldn’t say anything to Patrick about her past. She didn’t know whether her boss had ever gone back and read her job application, but if he had, he knew that when asked whether she’d ever been arrested, she’d answered no.

The truth was, she’d spent one night in Juvenile Hall after being swept up along with some misbehaving friends. Also, during her divorce, a drunken, angry Ralph had once claimed she’d stolen his car. The police had booked her before discovering it was merely a family dispute.

The incidents seemed so minor she didn’t figure they counted. After all, she’d been innocent both times. Too bad her arrest record wasn’t the only item Natalie had lied about on the form.

To her relief, Finn Sorrell departed with no further unpleasant remarks. It was unfortunate that he had such a bad attitude toward her family, since the police department generally did a fine job in Serene Beach.

“I’m afraid we have to be leaving,” Patrick said. “I’m due at the yacht club in twenty minutes.”

“Oh!” Natalie didn’t want to make him late for the luncheon. “We’d better hurry.”

After exchanging farewells with her mother and Clovis, the two of them headed for his car. It was too late to mention her pregnancy now even if she’d wanted to. She could hardly drop such a bombshell and then send Patrick on his way.

Besides, the encounter with Chief Sorrell had stirred Natalie’s insecurities. She hoped Amy, with her counseling expertise, could help her figure out what to do.

“YOU CAN’T TELL anybody I’m pregnant,” said Natalie, who’d burst out with her story the moment she arrived and found Amy by the pool. Fortunately the other condominium dwellers must have preferred the beach today, leaving the two women with the place to themselves.

“Of course not! I’d never betray a confidence.” Her friend began to dry herself with rough thoroughness. She’d completed a brisk swim just as Natalie joined her, and had been so fascinated by the story that she’d stood there dripping while she listened. “Who’s the father? Anybody I know?”

Although she’d intended to spill everything, Natalie found that she couldn’t. For one thing, telling Amy might put her in a difficult position, since Patrick was indirectly her boss, too. For another, it was simply too private a matter to share. “I’d rather not say. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Amy sat on a chaise longue and began toweling her hair. Long-legged and dark-haired, she moved with a coltish lack of vanity. When her hair was semidry, she perched on the chair cross-legged, her elbows resting on her knees.

“You must think I’m a mess,” Natalie said, “sleeping with a guy I can’t talk about and ending up pregnant.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Amy answered. “In a way, I’m envious.”

“Why on earth?”

Her friend shrugged. “It’s just that I’m such a tomboy, I’ve never…I mean, I’m thirty-three years old and I still haven’t…”

“Had a baby?” Natalie finished for her. “That’s not unusual. You’ve got lots of time.”

“I hope so,” her friend said. “Anyway, please go on.”

“It’s going to be really awkward telling this guy. I’m sure having kids with me is the furthest thing from his mind. Plus, I kind of misled him about my past,” Natalie said.

“You’re much too sensitive about your family,” Amy said. “Nobody else blames you for their weirdness.”

“Chief Sorrell does.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re not pregnant by him!” They both laughed.

“As I was saying, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I tell the father.” Natalie tilted back her recliner another notch to get comfortable. “We view the world so differently, it’s like we grew up on two different planets.”

Her friend reflected briefly. Then, “Before you tackle the guy, have Heather confirm your pregnancy. Those home kits aren’t perfect.”

Heather Rourke was an obstetrician on the Doctors Circle staff who sometimes ate lunch with Natalie and Amy. The three of them had similar tastes in movies and books, and twice had gone together to see ice-skating shows.

“She’s awfully busy,” Natalie said dubiously. “I mean, now that she’s taken on more infertility patients, she has a full schedule. Not too busy to see a friend, though, I guess.”

“She’ll work you in,” Amy said. “You know, I hear Patrick’s hiring some big shot to head the new infertility office. I hope Heather gets along with him or her.”

“Heather gets along with everybody,” Natalie said. “Okay, I’ll give her a call.”

Amy finger-combed her long hair, which fell in a tangle around her shoulders. She had a natural beauty of which she seemed unaware. “If she confirms that you’re pregnant, you’ve got to face this boyfriend of yours. Just be prepared. Guys don’t always see things the way we do.”

“Such as what, for instance?” Natalie said. “I mean, how many ways are there to view a pregnancy?”

“He might bring up adoption,” Amy said. “To a guy, that can sound like an attractive way out.”

“Adoption?” At this stage of her life, Natalie couldn’t imagine going through a pregnancy and then relinquishing the baby. “No way!”

“Don’t overreact if he suggests it,” Amy said. “Men can be clueless. But keep a good thought. Maybe he loves you.”

Natalie sighed. “It’s not that simple. This man comes from society. You know what my upbringing was like. I’m in over my head.”

“Natalie, you’ve got class. Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody except Dr. Sorrell and his brother,” she said. “And maybe I don’t have as much class as you think.”

“In my book, you do,” her friend said loyally.

Speaking of Chief Sorrell reminded Natalie about the crafts bazaar. She dug into her shopping bag. “By the way, I brought you something.”

“Nat!” Amy leaned forward. “You’re too generous.”

“It’s fun to do nice things for my pals.” Natalie handed her the ceramic wishing well. “Drop in a coin and your wish will come true.”

“I wouldn’t dare wish for what I want,” Amy said.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared of getting in over my head, too,” she said. “No, don’t ask questions. I’m not going to say another word about it.”

Natalie didn’t pry. Over the years she’d discovered that, like her, Amy and Heather preferred to keep parts of their lives private. This sort of reserve was one of the things the three women had in common.

AS IT TURNED OUT, Heather’s first available appointment wasn’t until Wednesday, so Natalie vowed to follow Amy’s advice and do nothing until then. Keeping such a volatile secret proved more uncomfortable than she had imagined, though.

Working in a facility full of doctors and nurses, she felt as if everyone could read her condition on her face. Surely they noticed the telltale early signs of pregnancy like flushed cheeks and frequent trips to the bathroom.

Natalie saw Doctors Circle differently now. The bubbling fountain in the courtyard, despite its cherubic sculpture, made her feel queasy. On the other hand, the two front wings and the Birthing Center with its white stucco walls gave her a sense of being surrounded by warmth.

When her duties took her into the Birthing Center, Natalie dawdled as she passed the labor-and-delivery area with its busy triage center. Eight months from now, she might be a patient here. The possibility seemed unreal and miraculous and scary.

“Natalie?” Patrick asked. They were standing by the antepartum area where pregnant women came for ultrasounds, amniocentesis and monitoring. “Let’s eat at the hospital cafeteria, if you don’t mind.” He made a point of checking out the food quality from time to time, to make sure it maintained high standards.

“You bet.” Since she had one more day to wait before her appointment with Heather, Natalie’s nerves had nearly vanquished her appetite. But not entirely.

She tucked the color-scheme portfolio under her arm. During the next few months the whole complex was to receive a facelift to coordinate with the remodeled infertility center. She’d been trailing Patrick through the buildings as they visualized how the designer’s plans might look.

Gorgeous, that was how. Natalie loved the choices of turquoise, mint-green and sunny yellow, played out in a variety of window treatments and wall coverings.

The cafeteria would benefit from a touchup, that was for sure, she reflected as the two of them got in line. The large room had a lovely vista of a plant-shaded patio, with an outdoor, as well as indoor, eating area, but the nondescript paint had become discolored and the linoleum was worn.

Patrick chose a table in the middle of the crowded room, one of the least-attractive places to sit. Typically, he was too busy assessing the quality of the food to pay attention to his surroundings.

“We need to update the salads,” he said. “I’m hardly a food critic, but I find this boring. What do you think?”

Natalie glanced at her bowl of iceberg lettuce, shredded cabbage and a single cherry tomato. “How about some sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese?”

And a declaration of undying love on your part, she added mentally. Or at least a hint that you’d like to get me alone on your yacht again, so that before I risk telling you everything, I know that our interlude meant something to you.

“Good idea, although the cheese should be served on the side, since not everyone can eat it. Also, the Italian dressing ought to be made with olive oil, instead of soybean oil. It’s better for your heart.” Patrick made a note on his Palm organizer.

How could the man sit opposite her and remain so blind to her state of mind? Natalie wondered. But then, after working for him for five years, she knew how single-minded Patrick was. Time for a little gentle prompting.

“Now that we’ve resolved the salad situation, what do you say we move on to other topics?” she murmured.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Take the eggplant parmesan. It’s not bad at all.”

She wanted to give him a poke. “Aside from the food,” she persisted, “is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Looking up, he met her gaze. “Something personal.”

Her heart rate sped up. Finally he’d taken notice of her. “Yes?”

Patrick smiled. “I just want to say I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“My behavior on the yacht was inappropriate,” he explained. “I don’t blame you for being standoffish afterward. I’m glad we’re back to our old selves.”

Was that what he wanted, to go on forever as boss and secretary? Sadly Natalie reflected that that was no longer an option.

Sooner or later the truth would become all too apparent. She just hoped it was a whole lot later.

“I’m sure we’ll catch some flak from the cafeteria manager about changing the seating around,” Patrick continued, failing to notice her silence. “But I like the designer’s idea of creating privacy zones. This place feels too much like a high-school cafeteria.”

“Right.” At the moment Natalie wouldn’t care if the designer made people eat on the floor, but she had no intention of saying so.

“Everyone’s going to have to be flexible, with all the changes we’re planning. They can’t fight their own petty turf wars. It’ll be worth it.” Patrick went on discussing the upcoming modifications.

Gradually, as she listened, Natalie forgot her irritation. She loved hearing the excitement in Patrick’s voice and seeing the fire in his brown eyes. When he leaned forward to make a point, his intensity was like a caress, sending thrills down her spine.

She ached to touch his face and bring his mouth to hers. Would it ever happen again?

After they finished eating, they left the Birthing Center and cut across the courtyard. From nearby came the lilting sound of a chorus singing a hymn. The Serenity Fellowship Church, located next door to the medical center, was known for its choir, which practiced several afternoons a week.

The central courtyard, with its fountain and brand-name coffee kiosk adjacent to a breezeway, attracted a cheerful assortment of brown-bagging staffers and family members waiting for patients. Across a small round table, two women were talking earnestly. At another, an elderly couple beamed as their grandchild read from a picture book.

A wistful look flashed across Patrick’s face. Following his gaze, Natalie saw two women carrying infants into the Well-Baby Clinic on the first floor of the West Wing. Her spirits lifted. Maybe he was eager to have a child, in which case he might not be so upset when she told him….

“Spencer Sorrell doesn’t know how good he has it.” Patrick kept his voice low so no one else could hear. “He wants to be a full-time administrator and resents having to examine babies. That’s the best part of his job, if only he realized it.”

“Do you want to be a pediatrician again?” Natalie asked.

He shook his head abruptly. “Of course not, when I can be accomplishing so much in administration. You’ve seen the statistics, how birth defects and infant mortality in Serene Beach have dropped each year since this center was established. What more could I ask?”

“If you like babies so much, I’m surprised you haven’t had any of your own.” As soon as the words slipped out, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“You know what I’m like,” Patrick said. “If I had my way, I’d move into my office full-time.”

“You seemed to enjoy talking to that little boy at the crafts fair,” Natalie said. “Maybe if you spent more time around kids…”

She stopped when they turned right into the East Wing and came within earshot of other people. The workmen sat eating their sack lunches amid piles of sawdust and lumber, so there was no racket from the high-power saws.

On the other side of the foyer, clients were arriving and departing at the radiology department, which provided outpatient mammograms, ultrasounds and X rays. There were also visitors to the laboratory, which lay between radiology and the work zone, and which usually caught the brunt of the noise. After the reconstruction began, some wag had dubbed the area No Man’s Lab.

As Natalie and Patrick stepped out of the elevator on the second floor, she saw through the doorway that someone was waiting beside her desk. As they approached, the visitor stood up.

A tall woman with ash-blond hair and blue eyes much like Natalie’s, she wore a too-short skirt and a top that failed to cover her navel. It was Candy, her oldest sister.

She rarely popped into Natalie’s life except to ask for a favor. Heaven knew what kind of fix she’d gotten herself into this time.

If only Patrick would bowl right into his office without noticing her! She wasn’t that lucky, however.

Hurrying toward them, Candy grabbed Natalie’s arm. “Sis, I’ve got to talk to you.” She stared at Patrick. “Who’s this? Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, I am,” he said.

“What kind?”

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her brashness. “A pediatrician.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Nat, I’ve absolutely got to have liposuction.”

“We can talk about this some other time.” Natalie squirmed. “Candy, I’m working.”

“I know that!” Her sister tightened her grip on Natalie’s arm. “I’ve got a shot at a swimsuit-modeling job next month. Have you tried on one of those new suits? Never mind, you’re only twenty-nine. Wait’ll you’re…thirty.” She’d just knocked three years off her age. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”

Patrick stood listening, making no move to go into his office. Judging by his expression, he was either shocked or fascinated by this strange creature.

Until now, Natalie had managed to avoid exposing him to her overbearing sister. Her luck had finally run out. She could only stand there and hope the racket downstairs would resume and be loud enough to drown Candy out.

ALTHOUGH HE’D WORKED with Nat for five years, Patrick hadn’t met any of her family until this past weekend. They were proving to be an interesting bunch.

“My insurance won’t cover liposuction and I can’t afford it on a night clerk’s salary,” Candy continued. “But you work at a medical center! You can find out how to fudge the paperwork so I can make the liposuction look like another kind of operation, something that’s covered.”

“That’s fraud,” Natalie said.

“Everybody does it,” scoffed her sister.

“Besides, the doctors at our clinics don’t perform liposuctions,” she said.

“Well, not Dr. Pedes here, obviously.” The woman pronounced it Peeds, as in Pediatrics. Patrick had to subdue a chuckle at being so casually dismissed, when most people treated physicians with excessive deference. “Maybe one of the doctors can perform some minor surgery on me and suck out the fat while he’s at it.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Natalie said. “Candy, I’m not going to help you cheat your insurance company, and no ethical doctor would perform unnecessary surgery.”

“It is necessary! If I can’t get myself in shape in a hurry, I’m out of a career,” Candy protested, flinging back her long hair.

“How much does this operation cost?” Natalie asked.

“A couple of thousand dollars.”

“I’ll lend it to you,” she said. “But you’re paying me back in installments, starting next month.”

“All right.” Her sister made a face. “Although I think you’re being a chump. All you have to do is help and we could arrange this for free.”

“No.”

“It’s your money,” Candy said.

“On loan!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know the exact amount when I get the surgery scheduled. Nice to meet you, Doc.”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Patrick said. Remembering how much work he had to do, he escaped to his office.

Before he closed the door, he heard Natalie’s sister say, “Hey, is that guy your boss?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got a great bod,” was the response.

Patrick thought he heard his secretary groan. He was more grateful than ever that his own ultra-dependable sister made his life easier, not more complicated.

Chapter Four

The second floor of the West Wing lay directly across the courtyard from the administration offices. From Heather Rourke’s waiting room, Natalie could see the outside of her own window.

It looked a million miles away.

She tried to read the novel she’d brought to pass the time while waiting for her appointment. It was no use. After skimming the same page three times without absorbing the contents, she gave up.

Her cheeks still burned as she remembered yesterday’s encounter with Candy. Her sister had been rude to Patrick and she’d proposed to cheat her insurance company.

Patrick hadn’t said anything critical, then or later, and Natalie knew he didn’t hold her responsible for her sister’s lack of ethics. But she hated to think that, when he learned about her deception, he might consider her and Candy to be two of a kind.

When she applied for the job, she’d known that her computer, typing, filing and front-office skills were all first rate. She’d taken secretarial classes and gained experience working for a temp agency.

The woman who handed her the application, however, had startled her by saying, “Dr. Grier insists on a certificate from a secretarial school. You do have one, don’t you?”

Instinctively Natalie had nodded. On the application, under “education,” she’d listed a certificate that, in fact, she hadn’t finished earning.

It had been a long time ago, and Patrick ought to understand. But he’d fired a lab technician for a similar offense.

“Nat? Is that you?” She looked up, startled, to see an old friend, Rita Lopez Beltran. “It’s been a long time!”

Rita’s husband, Sam, owned the car dealership where Natalie’s ex-husband, Ralph, had worked. The two women, near the same age, had gravitated to each other at company picnics. They still saw each other occasionally, since Rita’s sister, Loretta Lopez Arista, was the public-relations director for Doctors Circle.

“You look wonderful.” Natalie meant it wholeheartedly. Rita was glowing.

“I just found out I’m pregnant, and it’s thanks to Dr. Rourke!” gushed the dark-haired woman. “I’ve been wanting a baby for so long I’m floating on air.”

“Congratulations!”

“Please don’t tell my sister,” Rita added. “Loretta’s been trying to get pregnant even longer than I have, and I don’t want to upset her.”

“She’ll find out sooner or later,” Natalie pointed out.

“Maybe by then she’ll be pregnant herself,” Rita said.

“I hope so. I wish the best for you both.”

“How are you doing? Any word from Ralph?”

“He’s in Texas, working as a mechanic,” Natalie said. “Last month he sent a card and said he was thinking of me. I hope he’s not thinking too hard, because I don’t want to see him.”

“I don’t blame you, after the way he behaved. Well, I can’t wait to tell my husband the good news. Please remember not to say anything to my sister.”

“I promise,” Natalie said.

Shortly after Rita left, Heather’s nurse, Cynthia Hernandez, called Natalie’s name. The young woman proceeded to weigh her and take her temperature. She had a distracted air. There were dark circles under her eyes and a strand of her tied-back dark hair straggled along one cheek.

“Are you feeling okay?” Natalie asked.

“Excuse me?” The young woman looked startled.

“You’re a million miles away.” Always before, Heather’s nurse had struck Natalie as cheerful and outgoing.

“I’m a little tired,” Cynthia said. “My boyfriend and I were out late last night. It doesn’t interfere with my work, honestly.”

“I never suggested it did,” Natalie reassured her. “It was a friendly question.” Even though she worked for the center’s administrator, that didn’t mean she pried into everyone’s business.

She simply cared about all the people here, staff and patients, who these days were referred to as clients. She cared about Rita and Loretta, and about Cynthia, too.

The nurse asked for a urine specimen, then prepared Natalie for the exam. A few minutes later Heather came bustling into the room, wearing a traditional white coat and stethoscope.

“Nat! So tell me what’s going on. Are you feeling ill?” Concern shone in the obstetrician’s face. Despite her thirty-six years, Heather looked almost too young to be a doctor, and her intensity and halo of red hair made her seem larger than life.

There was no point in being coy, Natalie told herself. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Let’s find out.” Within minutes, Heather had examined Natalie, determined the date of her last period and tested the specimen. “You’re right. I’d put your due date at around May first.”

After Natalie got dressed, they sat down to talk. Patients often commented on how carefully Heather listened to them, and the reason was obvious.

“I don’t know how to tell the father,” Natalie said. “It’s a delicate situation.”

“He’s not married, is he?” Heather asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Good. Someone I know is seeing a married man and I wish I could discourage her,” she said.

An image of the nurse flashed into Natalie’s mind. Was that why Cynthia had been out late on a Monday night, because her married boyfriend was sneaking around at odd hours? If so, she hoped the young woman came to her senses before she ended up with a dilemma like Natalie’s.

“My situation is a little different,” she said. “The father might marry me out of a sense of obligation, but…well, there are problems.”

Heather gazed at her sympathetically. “It’s hard to raise a child alone, although lots of women do it well. Personally, I think it’s best if there’s a strong father figure.”

“Amy mentioned adoption,” Natalie said reluctantly. “I don’t see how I could give up my baby, though. What if he or she came back years later and reproached me?”

“What if he or she came back years later and thanked you?” Heather toyed with the edge of her white coat in an uncharacteristically nervous way. “Never mind. Just because a decision is right for one person doesn’t mean it’s right for another.”

Natalie got the impression that her friend was talking about an incident from her own life. But if she was, she chose to keep it to herself.

“In any case, the father needs to be told, doesn’t he?” Natalie said. “I’m assuming I can rely on your nurse’s discretion not to feed the gossip mill.”

“Cynthia is utterly trustworthy on that score.” Heather stopped fiddling with her coat. “The best decision is the one that makes you happy. Sooner or later, your condition is going to become obvious, but in the meantime, there’s no rush. Take your time figuring out what you want to do.”

The idea was comforting, to focus on the moment and let the future take care of itself. Natalie knew instantly that this was the advice she’d been seeking.

“You’re right. I’m going to wait,” she said. “He’ll discover the truth eventually. No need for me to throw it in his face.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Heather warned.

“Define ‘too long.’”

“Nine months.” They both smiled.

Natalie stood up. “I know you’ve got other patients to see. I’m sorry to take up so much of your time.”

“Not at all! I’m glad to help,” Heather said. “Don’t forget to make an appointment for your next checkup. Cynthia will give you information and a prescription for vitamins. Ask her to see if we have any free samples for you.”

“Thanks,” Natalie said. “You’ve helped more than you know.”

PATRICK WAS BEGINNING to wonder if he’d made a mistake by installing videoconferencing technology on his computer. Even without it, he’d have had to deal with Jason Carmichael by telephone, but at least he wouldn’t have had to face the other doctor’s irritated glare.

“No one mentioned that the new facility wouldn’t be ready until April,” Jason growled. “I’ve given notice and put my house on the market so I could arrive in February, as we discussed. Now suddenly there’s a delay!”

“No, there isn’t.”

“I think I know a delay when I see one!” the man snapped.

Patrick reminded himself that Jason was one of the nation’s leading infertility specialists, and it was a coup to have lured him from Virginia to serve as chief of the new infertility office. So what if the man was known to be abrasive? He got results with patients, and that was what counted.

“I thought you understood that I want you to get established before the opening,” Patrick said. “I’ve arranged to set aside a temporary office for you in our West Wing. I’m sure you’ll find it more than adequate.”

“I’ll have to move my office? That’s inconvenient, but it’s too late to change things now, I suppose,” the man grumbled. With his dramatic black hair and green eyes, he might be considered handsome, but his high-handed attitude made it hard to see him as anything but a potential pain in the neck.

“Sorry about the misunderstanding.” Patrick was determined to remain diplomatic. He’d provided Jason with full information when they met in person last June during a medical convention, but apparently the man hadn’t been paying attention.

“The main reason I called is that I have to fly to Los Angeles next week to speak at a seminar,” Jason said. “If you want to hold a press conference to announce that you’re hiring me, it’s the only time I’ll be available until after the holidays.”

“Next week?” Patrick had planned to schedule the press conference for early November, after the Oktoberfest fund-raiser at his estate. “That’s short notice.”

“Flying to the West Coast again would take too much time from my schedule,” Jason said. “I can pop down to Serene Beach on Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday morning, take your pick.” He made his offer sound like a great concession.

There was no point in arguing. Patrick was counting on the news of hiring Dr. Carmichael to generate excitement and bring in more donations for the Endowment Fund. “Tuesday afternoon,” he said.

The physician nodded. “Fine. Let my secretary know if you need her to fax you more information about me. By the way, since my current secretary can’t relocate, it’s essential that you hire someone to be on staff no later than January.”

“Before you arrive?”

“I want my files set up and my appointments in order when I get there. Someone experienced and reliable.”

“Anything else?” Patrick asked, trying to keep the edge from his voice.

“That’s all I can think of. Call my secretary with the time when you get the press conference set up.”

“I’ll do that.” Patrick gritted his teeth to keep from adding a sarcastic “sir,” along with a salute.

Jason clicked off. Patrick stared blurrily at the computer screen. He’s a brilliant doctor. Keep that in mind. Putting up with rudeness was a small sacrifice compared to the prestige of landing a nationally known specialist like Dr. Carmichael.

Patrick buzzed Natalie, and she appeared in the doorway, her blue eyes inquisitive. Her vulnerable air and the silkiness of her summer dress did alarming things to Patrick’s masculine instincts.

He dragged his mind back to the subject at hand. “I need to meet with Loretta Arista. Jason Carmichael’s going to be in town next week and it’s our only chance to schedule a press conference.”

Natalie made a note on her pad. “Next week? That’s sudden.”

“Dr. Carmichael likes to have things his own way,” Patrick said, then added, “Once he settles in, I’m sure he’ll be fine. By the way, the videoconferencing works quite well.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime. Maybe with my sister Alana in Oregon.” Natalie walked over to stand behind him, regarding the videocamera fixed atop the computer. Patrick tapped a button and suddenly an image appeared on the screen, live and in motion: her standing, him seated, both looking out at themselves.

“Does that make you feel like a shoplifter under surveillance?” he joked, and saw his image move as he spoke.

“It makes me feel like a movie star.” She took a closer look. “Well, maybe an actress in a low-budget production.”

As she brushed against him, Patrick caught the scent of almonds and honey. Bath soap, he thought, and visualized her running a bar of soap along her bare skin as she stood sleek and naked in the shower, hair tousled around her shoulders. He could almost taste the almonds.

On the screen Patrick saw his eyes dilate and his lips part as if he was about to sample something wonderful. Startled, he clicked off the camera.

Natalie took an abrupt step back, as if she, too, had snapped out of a daydream. “I’ll call Loretta,” she said, and headed for the door.

“One more thing.” She halted. “Our new specialist wants a top-notch secretary. I’m relying on you to find her for him.”

“Me?” Natalie asked. “Why not Human Resources?”

“Because we need someone out of the ordinary,” Patrick said. “Human Resources can place the ads and do the initial screening, but I want you to interview the candidates. She’ll have to be a self-starter, reliable and experienced. Someone like you.”

“The hard part is going to be saying no to applicants,” Natalie admitted. “I hate disappointing people.”

“You’ll hate it even more if you disappoint Jason Carmichael,” Patrick said. “By the way, one more qualification—his secretary needs a thick skin.”

“I’ll call the zoo and see if they have any alligators who can type,” she said.

After Natalie left, Patrick stared after her for a bemused moment. He didn’t know how he would function in this crazy-making job if it wasn’t for her. His predecessor, Dr. Grier, had been so high-handed that he’d destroyed staff morale and sent donations plummeting, but at least he’d had the sense to hire Natalie.

Thinking about her reminded Patrick of her mother’s dolls. With a smile, he picked up the phone and called Miriam James, the gift-shop manager, to give her Angie’s number.

By the time he hung up, the public-relations director was waiting to see him.

“WE’LL HAVE TO HUSTLE to get the press kits ready in time, but otherwise, there shouldn’t be a problem.” Sitting on the far side of Patrick’s desk, Loretta Arista gave a knowing nod to Natalie. “I could use all the help I can get, of course.”

“Count on me,” Natalie said. Remembering Rita’s confidential disclosure about her sister trying to get pregnant, she wished she had a magic wand so she could help. Well, maybe the great Dr. Jason Carmichael was the answer to Loretta’s prayers.

“If you hit any roadblocks, I’ll run interference,” Patrick said. “If you like, we can hold the press conference at the yacht-club ballroom.”

“I’d prefer our own auditorium.” Slim and businesslike, Loretta wore her dark hair short, with a white streak in the front that gave her a sophisticated air. “That will make it easier for our key staff members to attend, even if it is a less-than-elegant location.” The auditorium was located in the basement of the Birthing Center. “We can host a reception afterward in the conference room next to it.”

Not only top staff members but patrons would be invited. The hiring of a new infertility director affected them all.

“I’m debating whether we should continue to keep his identity a secret,” Patrick said. “It won’t be easy, with us running off press releases and making copies of his photograph to hand out when he arrives.”

“It’s more exciting if it’s a surprise, to the press, as well as to everyone else,” Loretta said. “Let’s try to keep it under wraps.”

As Natalie took notes, Patrick and Loretta went over the details of the presentation and the reception. As always, she was impressed by the way her boss focused on details without losing sight of the big picture.

She tried not to stare at him. Patrick always seemed too muscular and vibrant to fit behind a desk. She knew exactly where he did fit, and how it felt. In bed, out of bed…

A few minutes ago, standing behind him, she’d had an outrageous urge to lean forward until her breasts pressed into his back. She’d imagined him turning around and pulling her onto his lap, after which their clothes would rapidly disappear. Thank goodness he couldn’t read minds.

“This won’t interfere with planning for the Oktoberfest, I hope,” Patrick said.

That lighthearted evening celebration was less than two weeks away. Political leaders, entertainment and sports figures and corporate heads from across Southern California had been invited.

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