and totally confusing emotions that were wreaking havoc on her nervous system.
The giddiness was purely a feminine response to a good-looking man. That much, she knew, was completely natural. Completely controllable. But why was she angry that Greg Hamilton was handsome? She had expected him to be, hadn’t she? Pricilla wouldn’t have been caught dead with a man who didn’t have above average looks.
You’re angry because men like the good doctor here, a tiny, hurtful voice silently intoned, would never find you attractive.
That was ludicrous! She didn’t give a hoot if Greg Hamilton, or any other man for that matter, found her attractive or not.
What did anger her were the facts. This man fathered a baby and then refused to have anything to do with the child unless he could have full custody. This man had refused to help Pricilla when he certainly had the means to do so. He’d refused to support his daughter. Those were the facts. Facts that made Jane smolder like a day-old bonfire.
Stay calm, she scolded herself. If she lambasted him like she wanted to—like he deserved—he would surely refuse to help her find Pricilla and Joy.
Why would he help you, anyway? that irritating voice silently taunted. Pricilla had said early on that Dr. Hamilton wanted full custody of his daughter, or he wanted nothing to do with the child. Discovering that Pricilla had suddenly gone off with Joy just might stir in him a renewed interest in his baby girl.
Jane felt the blood drain right out of her face.
What if he decided to take Joy away from Pricilla? What if he hired a lawyer? What if he demanded his rights as the baby’s father be recognized? Her mind whirred faster than the speed of light.
Why hadn’t she thought of all these things before she’d come here? Why hadn’t she realized that she was entering enemy territory? This kind of thoughtless, irresponsible behavior was usually carried out by her sister, not level-headed Jane. But now Jane herself was being swept away by some insane recklessness.
She could be causing Pricilla trouble just by being here. Seeking him out. Jane could lose Joy for good.
That final thought caused her to tremble, literally. Perspiration prickled her forehead and upper lip. She felt light-headed. Dizzy. A frown bit deeply into her brow as she contemplated the magnitude of the mistake she’d made in coming to see Greg Hamilton. But it was too late now. Too late to get out of here without starting some kind of trouble. For Pricilla. For herself.
You can get out of this, a stern, no-nonsense voice echoed in her head. All you have to do is lie. You’ve already set it up perfectly.
In her reluctance to reveal the true purpose of her visit to anyone except Greg Hamilton himself, she had told the receptionist and the nurse she was here for a physical. All she had to do was stick with that story. This would be simple. A piece of cake, really.
She thanked her lucky stars that she and Pricilla had different fathers, hence different last names. The doctor didn’t know her. Had never met her. So there was no reason why he would link the mousy-haired woman sitting in his examining room now with the blond, blue-eyed, gorgeous bombshell that was Pricilla. The logical voice in her head made getting out of this situation unscathed sound so terribly easy.
Nervously running her tongue over her dry lips, Jane tried to make sense of these rash, chaotic thoughts.
Lying is for cheats and swindlers, another part of her brain argued.
Not all liars were bad, the stern voice stressed. Look at poets and song writers, novelists and playwrights. They fabricated stories every single day. They made up people, places, events.
But that was solely for entertainment purposes, her rational side reasoned.
No, the stern voice pointed out, it was for survival. And that’s just what you need to do right now. Survive. So you’d better lie like there’s no tomorrow.
Greg leaned his weight on one elbow, his forehead in his hand, and stared unseeingly at the medical history page in front of him. The woman’s blood pressure was fine. Her weight was perfect for her height. Yet he still continued to stare at the page.
As inconspicuously as possible, he inhaled a huge breath of air, and then expelled it slowly. When he’d entered the room and looked into Jane Dale’s face, it was as if he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. She seemed so…haunted. He was almost positive her ailment wasn’t physical.
Her gray-blue eyes were clouded. Intense. Desperate.
It didn’t take a medical degree to clearly see that she’d had at least one sleepless night. And from the look of the dark smudges on the porcelain skin under her eyes, she hadn’t slept well for days. Something deep inside him stirred.
Instinct had urged him to reach for her, hug her to him. Give her the comfort she so obviously needed. However, that would have been behavior of the most unprofessional kind. So he’d made an excuse out of studying the few facts he had about her. Height. Weight. Blood pressure. Temperature.
Truth was, he needed to put some space between them. To get a grip on himself. His reaction to Jane Dale had taken him completely by surprise.
He was sure his new attitude about women was to blame. He’d really been shaken when Pricilla had shown up with Joy. The past week with his daughter had been hard. Oh, boy, had it ever been! But being a father had also been like having a small piece of heaven dropped right into his lap.
Yet, it was the situation—his having made Pricilla pregnant over a year and a half ago and him without a clue that it had happened—that had totally altered his thinking where women were concerned. Had he really been so callous, so careless, that he could have made a woman pregnant and not known about it? His whole outlook on life had been shattered.
He gave the woman a surreptitious glance, wondering what on earth was troubling her. Only one way to find out. Straightening his spine, he turned to face her. “So what can I do for you today?”
“A physical.”
Her answer was rushed, her tone curt, and that made Greg all the more intrigued by this delicate-looking woman.
He automatically reached for his stethoscope. “Have you been feeling okay lately?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “I’m not sick or anything. But I need a physical.” Almost as an afterthought, she quickly added, “For a job.”
“Ah, so you’re starting a new job.” A little doctor-patient dialogue might help him find out something about her, something about her life-style…her troubles.
“Well…” She hesitated. “I don’t have a job yet. I’m new in town. But I plan to be working soon. I’ve got to be. To pay for a place to live. The hotel where I’m staying isn’t cheap.”
He smiled. “Welcome to Philadelphia. What type of job are you looking for?”
As he spoke, he moved toward her with the metallic diaphragm of the stethoscope outstretched. And he was taken aback when she leaned away from him.
“I just need to take a quick listen to your heart and lungs,” he explained, hoping to put her at ease.
Those huge cloud-gray eyes of hers slid away from his
