Teresa Southwick

Expecting The Doctor's Baby


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only person he’d met that he wanted to play nice with was Sam Ryan, and she’d refused to play at all.

      “How’s the relationship counseling going?” Cal asked, a little too close to the mark.

      “I think it’s a waste of time.”

      “Good attitude,” Jake said.

      Mitch shrugged. “I’m not in to that touchy/feely stuff.”

      “Your style is more shoot-from-the-hip,” Jake agreed. “Consider this people skills triage.”

      “And what if I don’t?” Mitch asked.

      Cal’s blue eyes were troubled. “We won’t let you take down the whole practice.”

      “You’re going to throw me out?” Mitch said.

      “Let’s not go there.” Jake held up his hands, gesturing for peace. “Marshall Management Consultants comes highly recommended. You did keep the appointment?”

      “Yeah.”

      “And?”

      “It’s too soon to say.” Mitch leaned back in his chair.

      He didn’t want to get their hopes up because he was pretty sure no one could help him. He had the history to back up that assessment. He hadn’t been a good brother, son, or husband. The opportunity to be a father had been ripped away from him without his say so and he’d never had the chance to try. He was only good at saying what was on his mind and being an E.R. doc.

      “But I’ll do my time,” he agreed.

      “Fair enough.” Cal looked down at the notes in front of him. “Next item on the agenda—”

      Mitch half listened to more specifics on expansion and hiring while the rest of his concentration was taken up with Sam Ryan. Doing his time would be more pleasant if he could spend it with her. When she’d said they wouldn’t be a good fit, his thoughts had gone to where they were horizontal on the handiest flat surface and fitting together the way God intended a man and woman to fit. Running into her at the hospital earlier today had convinced him that his first impression had been dead on.

      She was like sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, she’s the month of May. If Jake and Cal could hear his thoughts, they’d start humming the tune. But it was true.

      In his opinion, her excuse for refusing to work with him was nothing more than spin for the fact that she didn’t like him. There was a lot of that going around and he had a file full of grievances to prove it.

      Except that didn’t hold water considering the way she’d opened up to him about the run-in with her father. Would she have done that if she hated his guts? More to the point, why had he requested her counseling services in the first place?

      Because he liked baiting her. He liked how her full mouth compressed when she was annoyed. He liked the way her brown eyes warmed when she was pleased. And he especially liked when she asked him if he’d offended anyone today. The prospect of working with her was more exciting than he would have thought when he’d been forced into it. When life gives you lemons, and all that…

      “So Mitch will be representing us at the black-tie fund-raiser for the hospital,” Cal said, interrupting his thoughts.

      Mitch heard his name, fund-raiser and black tie—all of which got his attention. “Say again.”

      Cal grinned. “We paid twenty-five hundred dollars for the privilege of attending a fund-raising event put on by Mercy Medical Center at Caesar’s Palace. You drew the short straw.”

      “Since when?” Mitch demanded.

      “For one thing, it’s your punishment for shooting your mouth off too many times,” Jake answered. “And it’s what you get for not paying attention just now.”

      That part was all Sam Ryan’s fault, he thought. If he’d come up with a strategy to convince her to work with him, the punishment would have been worth it. All he’d gotten was monkey suit duty.

      He’d have to bring up the matter the next time he saw her. And there would be a next time.

      Chapter Three

      “Samantha, you look beautiful tonight.”

      “Thanks, Dad.”

      The approval in her father’s eyes was worth all the trouble and expense. She wanted him to be proud of her, but she was also representing Marshall Management tonight. Projecting an aura of professionalism and confidence required the right dress and she’d blown her budget on this stunner.

      The white, one-shouldered, sequined Grecian gown hugged her body in a sophisticated, yet demure way. Silver high-heeled sandals and a small matching clutch bag completed her outfit. After she put highlights in her mousy brown hair, the stylist swept it away from her face and fashioned a bun of curls to the side, behind her ear. Silver eye shadow made her eyes look enormous and subtle body glitter made her exposed skin shimmer.

      “You’re pretty awesome yourself,” she said, admiring how handsome and distinguished her father looked in his traditional black tuxedo.

      He smiled down at her. “I have to meet some people for a drink. You’ll be all right on your own?”

      “Of course.” She nodded. “I have to network, too.”

      “I’ll see you later then.”

      She watched him disappear into the crowd of people already gathered for cocktails in the reception area outside the room where dinner would be served. Several bars were set up and signs directed guests to a private corner displaying items donated for a silent auction. Sam had contributed three counseling sessions on behalf of Marshall Management.

      Darlyn was supposed to be here, too, but was still not feeling well. She’d given Sam a list of contacts to touch base with and directed her to dazzle them with her charm. She wasn’t sure about the charm part, but if she could find a particularly magnificent chandelier and stand under it, dazzling wouldn’t be a problem.

      There would be a lot of hospital management types here. Like her father, they were old school and skeptical about the benefits of corporate counseling. Her company had a foot in the door now, an opportunity to prove their services were money well spent. She spotted one of her must-sees. After snagging a glass of white wine from the tray of a circulating waiter, Sam wove her way through the crowd.

      “Amanda Jones,” she said. The tall, black-haired woman turned at the sound of her name. She was in her fifties and was the director of a large staff of physical therapists. Sam held out her hand. “Samantha Ryan.”

      The woman smiled. “From Marshall Management.”

      Sam nodded. “Darlyn wanted me to make it a point to say hello for her.”

      “She’s not here?”

      “No. Her cold is hanging on and she didn’t want to spread the joy.”

      “And we’re all grateful,” Amanda said. “How long have you been with her?”

      “About six months. I’m excited for the opportunity to work with Darlyn.”

      “She’s very good at what she does. I understand she did some pretty fast talking and convinced the powers that be at Mercy Medical to send problematic employees in for counseling?”

      Sam nodded. “I don’t have to tell you how costly it is to train someone, then lose them when they’re finally productive over something that could be avoided with intervention.”

      “Finding and retaining qualified personnel can also make a difference for the patients in an ongoing situation,” Amanda agreed.

      Sam took a sip of wine. “The hospital’s human resources director was instrumental in securing the contract with Marshall Management.”

      And