Читать книгу The Baby Bonanza - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 9

Chapter Three

Feeling miles from the festivities in the den, Lucky struggled to concentrate on Cole’s account. He kept wishing that, if he focused hard enough, the results would be more encouraging.

“The new stent won’t fix what’s wrong with Vince Adams.” The slightly built doctor ran a hand through his rumpled brown hair.

“Are you certain?” Lucky pressed.

Cole nodded. “It won’t do anything for a patient who has that much scar tissue.”

During the summer, Cole had used the latest microsurgical techniques in an unsuccessful attempt to open the billionaire’s blocked sperm ducts. As the office nurse, Lucky hadn’t assisted at the operation, but he’d read the follow-up report. The procedure hadn’t been able to reverse the extensive damage left by a long-ago infection.

However, Vince continued to press them for options. Cole had told him about a new dissolvable, medicine-infused stent, and Vince had been excited that Cole would get an advance preview of the device. “We have the world’s top urologist right here,” the millionaire had trumpeted. “And I’ll be the first guy he cures.”

The higher the hopes, the harder the fall.

“Do you think his interest in Safe Harbor is entirely based on restoring his fertility?” Lucky asked.

“It’s hard to say,” Cole replied. “His intentions tend to shift with his emotional state.”

A private equity investor, Vince Adams was powerful and rich. But wealth hadn’t compensated for his inability to sire children. Over the years, he’d paid dearly for treatments without success, and others had paid dearly for his desire for fatherhood.

After several turbulent and childless marriages, Vince had wed a woman with two young daughters. Determined to adopt them, he had used his financial clout to overwhelm Portia’s first husband in court.

The man he’d gleefully trounced was Lucky’s housemate, Rod Vintner, who’d faced a doubly devastating loss. First, during his divorce, he’d learned that his daughters were actually the genetic offspring of his unfaithful wife’s previous lover, now out of the picture. Second, Rod had been outspent and outmaneuvered fighting for joint custody.

For years, he’d been forbidden to talk or even write to his daughters, who lived a ninety-minute drive away, in San Diego. Then, earlier this year, the older girl had run away from home. The twelve-year-old had contacted Rod, who’d enlisted the aid of the girls’ maternal grandmother here in Safe Harbor.

Although officially Rod was still banned, Grandma Helen had arranged for Tiffany—now thirteen—and her younger sister to visit her more often. Whenever possible, she let them meet with Rod, and, faced with Tiffany’s threats to run away again, the Adamses pretended not to notice.

Vince’s search for fertility, however, provided him with another avenue for keeping Rod in line. While Vince’s interest in the hospital stemmed in large part from his discovery that one of the world’s foremost urologists had joined the staff, it also ensured that Rod didn’t dare become too much of an annoyance. An anesthesiologist would be a lot easier for the hospital to replace than a billionaire donor.

Lucky hated that the staff had to curry favor with Vince. Still, he felt compassion for a man desperate to produce a baby. The billionaire’s motives might be self-serving, but his comments had made it clear that he would treasure his child. As long as parents offered a loving, secure home, it wasn’t anyone else’s right to pass judgment.

However, if Cole couldn’t help him, it seemed likely Vince wouldn’t follow through on his major donation. “Suppose he drops us,” Lucky said. “Surely there are others we could approach.”

“The world is full of rich people, but Safe Harbor tends to lose out to more prestigious institutions,” Cole responded. “I admit, Luke, being at the conference whetted my appetite for better research facilities, more lab space and money for fellowships. In fact, I received three excellent offers to relocate.”

Lucky’s heart nearly skipped a beat. “You’d take another position?”

Alarm flitted across the doctor’s face. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Nevertheless, he had said it. “If you go, the program will never recover.” Neither will I. On many levels.

At a burst of laughter from the other room, Lucky flinched. His friends had no idea that he was standing here with the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “I joined Safe Harbor with the intention of building a standout program. Although I’m no longer sure that will be possible, this is my wife’s home, and mine, too. I haven’t given up yet.” But there was no mistaking his distress.

“Nothing else at the conference might be useful?”

“I’m afraid not. Perhaps we should suggest Mr. Adams cancel next Saturday’s appointment and save himself a trip.” The billionaire tended to arrive with plenty of pomp and circumstance by private plane or helicopter. On other occasions, Vince roared up the coast in a high-performance car that cost as much as many houses.

If only Lucky could find a solution, for his sake and for his doctor’s. It would also be important to the medical center to achieve its goal of becoming a major player in the fertility field. Major gifts attracted additional donors; a lack of progress might, by contrast, eventually consign Safe Harbor to secondary status. And this place had been good to Lucky when he’d needed help the most.

“Don’t cancel,” he said. “That’s a week from now. Things could change.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Cole stretched his shoulders. “In any event, my patient deserves to hear the news from me in person.”

To Lucky, it was a reprieve. He had a week to figure out the next move.

* * *

ZORA HAD NEVER seen Lucky abandon a party before. After talking to Dr. Rattigan, he’d spent the next hour in a corner of the living room, fiddling with his phone. Searching the internet or texting people? But why?

In view of the doctor’s wistful expression, it didn’t take a genius to recognize that they’d suffered a blow. They must have been counting on the New York conference for some reason.

Zora tried to shrug off Lucky’s absence while she and her fellow moms-to-be opened gifts. Most people had contributed money, but Betsy’s gifts were special.

Zora’s throat constricted as she held up the soft pink and blue blankets. Her former mother-in-law had created these precious heirlooms even without being sure of her relationship to the twins.

Zora was glad now that Lucky had invited Betsy. To learn she’d been excluded from the baby shower would have been an undeserved slap in the face.

Catching Betsy’s eye, Zora said, “These mean more than I can say.”

“I’m glad.” Wedged among the other guests, the older woman added, “If you need anything, please call me.”

“You’re a sweetheart.” But Zora wouldn’t ask for the other woman’s help, not until after the babies were born and she revealed the truth to Andrew. When she did, she hoped Betsy wouldn’t resent having been kept in the dark.

Her gaze drifted to the diamond-and-emerald ring on her ex-mother-in-law’s right hand. Zora had worn the family heirloom during her marriage, treasuring both its beauty and its significance. After the divorce, she’d returned it, with regret. Neither of Andrew’s other wives had worn it; there’d been a special bond between Betsy and Zora that had begun in her high school days.

Now, its glitter reminded Zora of how much she’d lost. Not only her husband, but a woman who’d been as close to her as family. Well, perhaps someday she and Betsy could be close again.

She hoped her children would meet her twin sister, too. That depended on whether Zora was ever secure enough to handle Zady’s inevitable gloating at her downfall. For now, distance was best. Nobody could inflict as much pain as the people nearest your heart.

After the last guest departed, the adrenaline that had powered Zora all afternoon faded. She collapsed on the living room couch while, inside her, the babies tussled.

What a blessing it would be when they were born and her body returned to normal. And what a joy to hold them and see their sweet faces.

At this point, Lucky should have arrived to offer her refreshments. She missed his coddling, even though it was often seasoned with criticism.

Instead, he bustled about collecting trash as if she weren’t there. From the kitchen, Zora heard Karen opening and closing the fridge to put away food, while in the den, Rod ran the vacuum cleaner. Zora would have pitched in if she’d had the energy.

As Lucky removed the white linen covers from the folding chairs, his dark eyebrows drew together like storm clouds. The dragon protruding from beneath one sleeve appeared to be lashing its tail.

Zora broke the silence. “Won’t you tell me what happened?”

He tossed a cover onto a pile of laundry. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been upset since you talked to Dr. Rattigan.”

Lucky snapped a chair shut. “Doesn’t concern you.”

Zora tried a different tack. “Laird speculated you might move out of town to take a better job. He’s angling to get your suite.” She deliberately baited Lucky with that reference to the obnoxious psychologist.

Lucky grimaced. “I’d rather not discuss that lowlife.”

“Then let’s discuss what’s eating you.”

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.”

Any second, flames were going to shoot out her ears. “Oh, yes, it is!”

“How so?” he growled, wielding a chair as if he was prepared to thrust it at her.

The guy sure was prickly. “It’s obvious Cole brought bad news from the conference.”

Lucky set the chair down. “I can’t discuss anything involving a patient.”

He was right to safeguard the man’s privacy, Zora conceded. Medical personnel were required to do that, by law and by hospital policy as well as by simple decency. Still, he’d dropped a clue. Now, why would a patient’s condition bother Lucky so much?

From the kitchen, Karen’s voice drifted to her. “I’m looking forward to having your girls in town next Saturday. Should we invite them and Helen for lunch?”

“I doubt there’ll be time,” Rod replied dourly. “They’re only being dropped off at their grandma’s for an hour or two while Vince sees his doctor.”

“Is he having problems?” Karen asked. “I don’t usually wish anyone ill, but he’s an exception.”

“You can wish that jerk as much ill as you like.” Rod’s voice rose in anger. “Tiff and Amber loathe the man. He may not physically abuse them, but he’s a bully, and emotional scars can be the worst kind.”

As the rumble of the garbage disposal cut off further eavesdropping, Zora put two and two together. Everyone knew—because the billionaire had discussed it openly—that Dr. Rattigan was treating him. And the men’s program counted on his support.

“It’s Vince Adams,” she said. “No, don’t answer. I realize you can’t confirm it.”

Lucky stacked the chairs to one side. “Are you still mad at me for inviting Betsy? Is that why you’re harassing me?”

Zora tried to hug her knees, but her bulge was in the way. “I’m glad you invited her.”

“So we’re good?” His fierce brown eyes raked over her.

“No. What if you leave?” she burst out, surprised by her rush of emotion. “We’re having enough trouble finding one roommate, let alone two. We’ll have to take Laird.”

A knot in her chest warned that she was less concerned about Laird than she was about Lucky staying until the babies were born. Until Andrew hopefully came to his senses and fell in love with his children. Until hell freezes over. No, but if hell did freeze over, she’d counted on Lucky to be there with a warming blanket.

As a friend, of course. He’d been just as helpful to Anya—maybe more so—when they’d moved into this house. It was in his nature.

Lucky stopped fiddling around. “You shouldn’t upset yourself. It might shoot up your blood pressure.”

“Then talk to me.”

He plopped his butt on the arm of the couch. “About what?”

“You’ve been delving into your phone all afternoon, trying to find a solution, right? But if Dr. Rattigan can’t fix Vince—I mean, Patient X—neither can you.”

“So?” Lucky folded his arms. They were muscular arms, and he folded them across a broad, powerful chest. Too bad the movement also flexed the shapely legs of a cartoon woman, which rather spoiled the effect for Zora.

“We have to figure out another way to keep the Adamses involved with Safe Harbor,” she blurted.

“We?” Lucky was addicted to monosyllables today.

She’d surprised herself by saying that. But didn’t she owe Lucky a favor, considering how much support he’d given her?

“Yes, we,” Zora retorted, and, to cut off any argument, she added, “Some people have a ridiculously hard time accepting help, to quote a person I know.”

That produced a tight smile. “What do you imagine you, or we, can do regarding this alleged situation?”

“I have an idea.” Fortunately, a possibility had hit her. “I’ll share it on one condition.” She might as well benefit from this.

“Which is?”

“You stop nagging me about my personal choices, however stupid you may consider them.”

Lucky didn’t answer. Then, abruptly, he burst out laughing. “Sometimes I actually like you.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

“Because you’re a tough little cookie. If only you would apply that quality to he-who-shall-remain-nameless.”

“That’s breaking the rules,” Zora retorted. “No nagging and no smart-aleck remarks, either. Well?”

“You’re draining all the fun out of our relationship.” Lucky raised his hands in mock surrender. “I agree. Now, what’s the suggestion?”

The sight of him leaning close, intent on her, sent a thrill across her nervous system. Must be the maternal hormones running amok. “Remember when Edmond gave that speech about trends in family law?”

Melissa’s husband served as a consultant for staff and patients on the legal aspects of fertility issues.

“Sure.” Another one-syllable response.

“Afterward, Vince approached him for advice.” Zora had heard the story from Melissa. Quickly, she added, “It was in a public place. No attorney-client privilege.”

“Advice about what?”

“About persuading Mrs. Adams to agree to in vitro.” If Vince produced even a small amount of sperm, it could be extracted and injected into an egg, bypassing the need to fix his blocked ducts. “She refuses to undergo in vitro, however.”

“He can afford to hire a surrogate,” Lucky pointed out.

“He objects to bringing in a stranger while his wife is presumably still fertile.” Although Zora detested Portia for Rod’s sake, she understood why a woman approaching forty wouldn’t be eager to undergo a process involving hormone shots as well as uncomfortable procedures to harvest her eggs and implant the embryos. There were also potential health risks from a pregnancy complicated by multiple babies.

“What does this have to do with us?” Lucky asked.

“Talking to Edmond renewed Vince’s enthusiasm for Safe Harbor.” According to Melissa, the hospital administrator had phoned later to congratulate Edmond on saving the day.

“Renewed his enthusiasm how?” Lucky persisted. “His wife still hasn’t agreed, as far as I know.”

“I’m not sure, but judging by what Rod says about him, he enjoys power trips,” Zora observed. “He hates to lose. If we figure out how he can win in this situation, it might keep him engaged with Safe Harbor.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Ask Edmond what he advised.”

Lucky considered this in silence. At close range, Zora noticed an end-of-day dark beard shadowing his rough cheeks. Although she preferred men with a smooth, sophisticated look, she had to admit there was something appealing about Lucky’s male hormones proclaiming themselves loud and clear.

What was wrong with her? At this stage of pregnancy, she ought to have zero interest in sex. Or men. Or sexy men. Or... Stop that.

“Any idea which days Edmond’s at the hospital?” Lucky asked.

“Afraid not.”

In the adjacent dining room, Karen rose after stowing a tray in the sideboard. “Monday mornings and Thursday afternoons. Why the interest in Edmond?”

“It’s private,” Zora and Lucky said simultaneously.

Descending the few steps to the living room, their landlady gathered the pile of chair covers. “That’s unusual, you guys being on the same page.”

They both returned her gaze wordlessly until she sighed and departed. Zora chuckled. That had been fun.

Lucky held out his hand. As her fingers brushed his, a quiver of pleasure ran through her. On her feet, she lingered close to him for a moment, enjoying the citrus smell of his cologne underscored by masculine pheromones. Then in the recesses of her mind, she remembered something he often said: it’s Andrew who should be helping you, not me.

Even without speaking, he projected criticism. Glowering, and ignoring Lucky’s puzzled reaction, Zora headed for the stair lift.