dreams of a relationship.
She switched off the television and the living-room lights, entering her bedroom where the bedside lamp threw a pool of soft white over her solitary bed.
It’s time for Cinderella to go back to her real life, she told herself as she climbed into bed and switched off the lamp. The room was plunged into darkness except for the faint glimmers from the streetlights outside marking the edges of the window blinds.
Resolutely, she closed her eyes but when at last she slept, she dreamed of Chance.
Chance had barely shrugged into his lab coat on Monday when the phone on his desk rang. The caller was Paul Armstrong’s secretary, who relayed a message that he was needed in Paul’s office immediately.
Wondering what could possibly have happened to impact his research funding this time, he left his office and headed down the hall.
He tapped on the half-open door to Paul’s office and stepped inside. “Morning, Paul…Ramona.”
“Good morning, Chance.” Paul leaned against the front of his desk, hands tucked into his slacks pockets. Ramona Tate, the institute’s blonde, blue-eyed public relations expert—and Paul’s fiancée—smiled warmly.
Chance didn’t miss the worry on both their faces, however, and he mentally braced himself. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m afraid not,” Paul said grimly. “There’s no easy way to tell you this so I’ll just say it—a former patient has filed a paternity suit and named you as the father of her baby.”
Chance was stunned. Of all the possible subjects for bad news, this one had never occurred to him.
“That’s crazy,” he said when he could speak. “Totally insane. Who filed the suit?”
“Georgina Appleby.”
Chance bit off a curse.
“I know.” Paul grimaced, shifting to cross his arms across his chest. “The institute is behind you one hundred percent in this, Chance. Whatever we can do to help, we will. Just let us know.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ramona said with sympathy. “The timing of this lawsuit is just terrible. You’ve barely had time to relax after proving how false those outrageous allegations were about funding for your research with Ted.”
“I have no doubt you’ll win the day in this, too,” Paul told him resolutely.
“Thanks.” Chance frowned and raked one hand through his hair, thinking out loud. “I should call my attorney. Has the institute been officially served with copies of the documents?”
“Yes. I had my secretary run a copy for you.” Paul picked up a sheaf of papers and handed them to Chance. He turned back to his desk and picked up a copy of the Boston Herald, passing that over, as well. “The newspapers already have the details.”
Chance took the paper, folded open to the society page. Heavy black marker circled two paragraphs of the gossip column with quotes from Georgina Appleby. “She stops just short of slander,” he said grimly.
“No one who knows you will believe it,” Ramona stated firmly.
“Maybe,” Chance commented, rereading the last paragraph, coldly furious. “I’d like to take this to my attorney, as well.”
“Keep it,” Paul told him. “I read it on the way to work this morning.”
“I’d also like to take a short leave of absence to deal with this,” Chance suggested. “The smear against my reputation is probably unavoidable, at least temporarily, but I don’t want to damage the institute’s image with bad personal publicity.”
“Take as much time as you need,” Paul said.
“Thanks. My hope is that my attorney can expedite arrangements for an HLA paternity test. Once the results are back, I can prove the case has no merit and I can come back to work. Without being followed by reporters and bad press,” he added, shaking his head.
“Sounds good,” Paul replied.
“I didn’t get to see much of you at the Founder’s Ball,” Chance noted in a purposely abrupt change of subject.
“We saw you with a stunningly lovely blonde woman,” Ramona commented, following his lead. “But you left before we had a chance to learn who she was.”
“I’m keeping her identity a secret,” Chance told her with a faint grin.
“Oh, yeah?” Paul lifted an eyebrow, the look he gave Chance speculative.
“Yeah.” Chance didn’t respond further, guessing that Paul had picked up on the possessive note in his voice. “How’s your mother, Ramona?”
Ramona brightened, exchanging a quick glance with Paul. “My half sister, Victoria, has agreed to donate bone marrow so I’m very hopeful that her prognosis will improve.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Chance told her. “Very glad.”
“Dr. Armstrong?” Paul’s secretary tapped on the door panel, then peered into the room. “I’m so sorry to intrude, but Senator Johnson is on the line. He wants to talk to you about a potential donation from a constituent.”
“I’m sorry, Chance. I have to take this call.” Paul pushed away from the desk.
“Of course. I’ll let you know about any developments.” Chance headed for the door.
“Take care,” Ramona called after him. “Remember, we’re here if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“I appreciate that.” Chance lifted a hand in reply and left the office, striding down the hallway and back to his own office.
He shrugged out of his lab coat and pulled on his leather jacket. Within seconds, he left the office with the sheaf of lawsuit papers in his hand. His partner, Ted, was at his desk and apparently deeply immersed in a report when Chance paused in the doorway.
“Hey, Ted.” He waited until Ted looked up. “I’ll be out of the office for a few days but if anything comes up, you can reach me on my cell phone.”
Ted blinked in surprise, frowning. “What’s up? You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Chance lifted the lawsuit documents. Ted’s gaze flicked to the papers and he frowned as he looked back at Chance. Before he could ask, Chance interrupted him. “Long story. I’ll explain later.”
“All right.”
Chance nodded and turned to leave, stopping when Ted called after him. “Hey, if you need me, call.”
Chance glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “I will. A guy never knows when he might need help disposing of a body. I’ll keep you on speed dial.”
Ted snorted and Chance strode off down the hall.
It was good to know he had friends who would stand
