his work.
“But all work and no play—”
The door opened unceremoniously just then, and she cut her comment short, startled by the abruptness with which the man burst into the room.
It was as if a bulldozer had just barged through the wall, and she couldn’t help feeling as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t do.
That sense was reinforced when the man raised a dark eyebrow at her and said facetiously, “Everything to your liking?”
Maybe everything except him, Ella thought. Rather than respond to his less-than-friendly greeting, she held out her hand to him. “I’m Ella Gardner,” she said, hoping against hope that her name didn’t ring a bell with him, that he didn’t recognize it or remember it or her or the awful mess she’d been involved in at Saunders when they were both there.
Nothing seemed to strike him, though. And he either didn’t see her extended hand because he was too busy glancing at the open file he’d brought in with him or he used that as an excuse not to take it. One way or another, Ella was left standing there twisting in the wind as he moved around behind his desk. And feeling all the more uncomfortable.
“Where’s your husband? The consultation should include him and his work-ups, too. I won’t do this twice.”
“I don’t have a husband. I’m divorced.”
“Have a seat,” he commanded without showing any reaction to the news that she was single.
He himself didn’t sit, however. He remained standing as he continued to look at the papers in the file as if they were more interesting than she was.
Ella was beginning to see why people wouldn’t stick with him if he wasn’t someone’s last resort. But he was her last resort, so she did as she was told, finally settling into one of the visitor’s chairs.
Even once she was sitting, Jacob Weber went on with whatever it was that had his attention, as if she weren’t there at all.
It gave her the opportunity to get a good look at him. He was a big man—at least an inch or two over six feet—with long legs and broad shoulders that ably carried off wearing the long white lab coat he wore over khaki slacks, a blue plaid sport shirt and a darker blue tie. Beneath the lab coat was a body that showed no signs of fat or flab, and instead appeared taut and surprisingly muscular for someone who gave every impression of being a workaholic in the extreme.
Venturing her first real glance at his face, Ella was taken aback to find him so handsome. The only picture of him that had accompanied the “Best of” article had been a profile shot taken from a distance while he’d stood at the nurse’s station of a hospital. The caption had said something about it being the only photograph the fractious Dr. Jacob Weber would cooperate for, and in it he’d been nearly unrecognizable. And nowhere in any of the complaints Ella had heard about him had anyone—including her sister—mentioned that the man was drop-dead gorgeous. She could only conclude that his personality was so rotten it diminished the impact of looks that could stop traffic.
He had the facial structure of a male model—a strong chin and rugged, angular jaw with pronounced cheekbones and slightly hollowed cheeks. His bottom lip was fuller than his top but still neither could have been more perfectly shaped below a nose that was just long enough and just straight enough.
He also had great hair—a light chestnut-brown color—that he wore short all over but not too short, giving it an artfully disarrayed look. And when he finally closed the file he’d been engaged in and raised his eyes to Ella, they were so dark a blue they were almost purple and they seemed to pin her to her chair.
“Files.”
It took Ella a moment to realize he was asking for—well, demanding, actually—to see her files now that he’d set aside the one he’d come in with. That moment of delay was enough to aggravate him because before she’d grasped what he wanted and was able to comply, he said, “You did bring your files, didn’t you? I’m sure Bev told you to.”
Bev was the receptionist, and she’d made it very clear that Dr. Weber would not consider taking her case without a full and complete history before him.
“Yes, she told me. It’s here,” Ella said belatedly, reaching for her own file on the edge of the desk and passing it to him as he finally sat down across from her.
Those remarkable blue eyes went back to reading then, as if her medical information was more relevant than she was, and Ella worked to rein in her shock over his good looks and regain some control of her wits. Clearly this was a man she had to be on her toes with.
After a few minutes scanning the file—and still with his gaze trained on the pages and not on her—Jacob Weber said, “You’re thirty-five.”
“I am.”
“In good general health.”
“Yes.”
“On any medication?”
“No.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a federal prosecutor.”
Ordinarily that prompted a response of some kind, but not from Jacob Weber. He merely took the information without comment and continued.
“After a year of not achieving pregnancy through regular, unprotected intercourse the full gamut of tests were performed and no obstacle to conception was discovered. You had eleven courses of varying drug therapies to stimulate ovulation and—again—no pregnancy,” he said, interpreting what was documented in her file, all without looking at her.
“Right,” she confirmed.
“I see that you did have a husband in the picture for that—your physician’s notes indicate that there was normal sperm count and motility in the male. And now you’ve had five months of in vitro—even without a husband?”
“Yes.”
“All unsuccessful?”
“Right.”
He finally looked up from her file, once again leveling those amazing blue eyes on her as he set the folder on his desk and sat back in his chair. “And you expect me to do what? Perform a miracle?”
“If you have one of those hidden in your pocket, sure, I’ll take it,” Ella said, trying a little levity.
He didn’t so much as crack a smile to be polite. He merely stared at her.
Ella wasn’t sure if he actually expected another answer to his sarcastic question but since she didn’t know what else to do in response to his continuing silence, she said, “I don’t expect anything. I’ve heard that your success rate is better than average, even for people who have failed with every other doctor. I’ve also heard that you sometimes use unconventional methods that can do the trick when nothing else has. That’s why I’m here. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to have a child.”
“It looks to me like you already have done everything it takes. And it hasn’t mattered.”
“Which
