“They’re waiting on us.”
“Stephanie, if there’s anything I can do to help—”
His offer surprised her.
Too soon she would have the unfortunate duty of telling him how the hospital he had devoted his whole life to was selling him out.
Yes, he would be well compensated for his involuntary sacrifice, but the board didn’t understand. Jason didn’t do what he did for money. He did it out of passion.
Stephanie knew she was the only one who understood the passion Jason hid beneath his cynically stoic exterior.
All he had to do was brush against her to remind her.
“After you.” He held the door open for her, briefly trailing his fingertips on the small of her back to guide her through.
His gray eyes smoldered before he banked the fire, but she’d seen the desire that flickered there. And had felt a responding spark in herself—a spark that could all too easily be fanned into a full-blown inferno.
All vestiges of nausea and lethargy fled at his touch.
They were so good together. Maybe if …
No, it was too late for second thoughts.
CHAPTER TWO
JASON saw that Dr. Riser and Dr. Phillips had already seated themselves at the table with a cup of coffee each.
He turned to the kitchenette that housed a small microwave and refrigerator along with a pair of electric burners. One burner held a pot of brewed coffee, but Stephanie preferred tea.
Filling the extra pot with water, he put it on the burner to boil.
“It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Stephanie began to peel off her lab coat.
Her skin was now flushed with healthy color instead of holding that pallor her worry had caused her. She really needed to get away—with him. A little time in his mountain cabin on his faux fur rug would fix her right up.
“Let me help you.” Jason stepped toward her to help—out of politeness, but mostly out of the desire to touch her again. He yearned for that zing they created between them whenever they made contact, and couldn’t keep himself from trying to recreate it whenever he had the chance.
But she shrugged away his outstretched hand as she hung the lab coat on the rack near the door.
Yes, her curves were definitely curvier.
As she slid into her office chair she picked up her glasses, anchored them low on the bridge of her nose and looked over the top at him. Did she know how that prim and proper look set him on fire? Was she teasing him on purpose?
He hoped so, but doubted it.
Since that fateful night two weeks ago, when he’d got caught up in his work and had to cancel their dinner date, she had rebuffed every move he’d made. He set the steeping cup of tea in front of her.
“No, thank you. I’m cutting down on caffeine.” She shoved it back to him. “Now, tell me what’s going on with little Maggie.”
Jason took a sip of the tea himself, although it was too sweet for his taste. Then he stood and pointed to the whiteboard that listed symptoms and possible diagnoses and drew a line through multiple sclerosis. “The child is average in both weight and height. Reduced muscle tone, delayed development, lack of speech, yet good appetite and no fever. These symptoms aren’t new. But after walking for a year and a half she now seems to have forgotten how. Dr. Montclair, what are your observations?”
Stephanie traced an invisible circle on the table. Her hands always moved as she processed. “Her vitals are good, all within the normal range. Her palm is warm. Not clammy or cold. Her grip is weak. Her fingernails are thin and flaky. And she has the longest eyelashes for a child of her age I’ve ever seen.”
Fingernails and eyelashes. Only Stephanie had noticed the obvious. Added to the clues he’d already put together, a suspicion began to form in his mind.
Damn it, she looked different. Was she dating someone else?
Focus, Drake, he told himself. Mentally, he considered and discarded possible diagnoses.
“Anyone else have something to add?” he challenged his diagnostics team.
“She’s obsessed with that doll,” Dr. Phillips said. Dr. Phillips was the youngest and the chattiest, but her expertise in toxicology made her invaluable.
Like a parrot on her shoulder, Dr. Riser nodded in concurrence.
Dr. Riser had been doing a lot of that lately, instead of presenting his own ideas. Jason’s team had been picked with great care, but even the best partnerships became stale after a while. And Jason hadn’t picked Riser. The board had.
Dr. Riser was a neurosurgeon the hospital had brought in for an undisclosed salary. He regularly moonlighted for the neurology department.
The respiratory/pulmonary member of the group was missing today. Personal business, he’d said. Job interview, the rumor mill said. He was looking for a position with a higher success rate than their department.
Diagnostics was a last-ditch effort after all the other medical personnel had given up. Often the diagnosis came too late, or the patient couldn’t be treated. Pediatric diagnostics was hard on the ego as well as the soul if a doctor valued his success rate over saving individual lives.
Stephanie answered Dr. Phillips. “Wouldn’t you be fixated on your favorite toy, too? Surrounded by strangers, you’d be clinging to the few constants in your life.”
He could always count on her to bring in the human aspect of a case. His team was becoming too narrowly focused, echoing his weaknesses as well as his strengths. Stephanie was exactly who he needed on this case. And in his bed.
No. He did not need Stephanie Montclair in his bed. He wanted her in his bed, but he didn’t need her there.
What he needed was focus. Stephanie made that damned hard. He was fascinated by this strong, sexy, intelligent woman.
He looked around at the assembled doctors, his gaze deliberately sliding past Stephanie.
Turning Dr. Phillips’ observation on its side, he challenged, “Did anyone notice Maggie also chewed the sleeve of her nightgown and the edge of her blanket? Is it that she wants the doll, or does she just want to put something in her mouth?”
Drs Phillips and Riser easily nodded their agreement. Jason scowled, exasperated. He didn’t need any yes-men. Or yes-women. He needed independent thinkers. Loyal accord didn’t diagnose patients.
He added ‘obsessive chewing’ to the list, then pointed to the word ‘autistic.’ “Anyone get a better read on this?”
Dr. Phillips shrugged. “The girl is non-verbal, and she won’t look at anyone straight on. That indicates autism.”
“She
