Читать книгу Prescription for Romance / Love and the Single Dad: Prescription for Romance / Love and the Single Dad - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 8

Bravado was second nature to Ramona Tate. It always had been. Her chosen field of investigative reporting had only honed that ability. She could bluff her way through practically everything.

Because she had never gone through an ugly-duckling stage and had been a swan from the moment she came into the world, Ramona had to constantly keep proving herself. People naturally assumed that a) because she was beautiful, that meant she didn’t have a brain in her head, and b) she’d gotten to her present stage in life because she’d slept her way there.

In both cases, nothing could have been further from the truth.

Blessed with a near-genius IQ, Ramona still had to work twice as hard as the next person to be taken seriously and to keep from being dismissed as “just another empty-headed pretty face.” This while politely, but deftly and succinctly, putting men in their place if they decided to become too familiar with her. In the latter case, whenever “hands-on” experience was mentioned, her antennae instantly went up because most of the men she’d encountered took that to mean their “hands on” her body.

Ramona always made it perfectly clear that working and playing well with others did not refer to the kind of playing that could be done beneath the sheets. She fought her own battles and protected her private life—what there was of it—zealously.

Since wrongdoing on any level was something she abhorred, Ramona found that she took to investigative reporting like the proverbial duck to water. Even at her seemingly tender age of twenty-five, she had already broken a number of stories, revealing fraudulent practices at one of the country’s larger life insurance companies, and exposing a doctor who had made a career out of bilking Medicare, submitting charges for the treatment of nonexistent conditions for nonexistent patients in order to collect Medicare’s payments. Both stories had necessitated her going undercover to get the information she needed to substantiate her allegations.

Ramona had followed the same path here, at the Armstrong Fertility Institute. Once revered as a bastion of hope for the terminally infertile, the institute’s outstanding success rate had bred a certain amount of envy, which begged for closer scrutiny. This scrutiny in turn gave birth to ugly rumors, some that were quite possibly well founded, others that almost certainly were not.

That was going to be her job—to separate fact from fiction, no matter how deeply the former appeared to be buried.

But Ramona had a far more personal reason to have gone undercover at the institute. She needed to gain access to the institution’s older records in hopes of saving her mother’s life. Her mother, who had raised Ramona by herself, had been diagnosed with leukemia less than six months ago. The prognosis was not good. If something wasn’t done soon to stem its course, her mother had only a very short time to live.

Katherine Tate desperately needed a bone-marrow transplant. Ramona would have gladly given up hers. She would have given her mother any organ she could to save the woman’s life, but, as happened all too frequently, her marrow wasn’t a match. So the search was on for some miscellaneous stranger whose marrow might provide the cure.

There was, however, a glimmer of hope when Ramona remembered accidentally stumbling over a piece of vital information packed away in a long-forgotten box hidden in the back of her closet.

Katherine Tate was one of those people who never threw anything away, she just moved it around every so often from one pile to another, from one room to another. In one of her many, many boxes throughout the house was a bundle of receipts and bills dating back more than a couple of decades. Including a receipt from the Armstrong Fertility Institute for the purchase of donor eggs.

In between jobs and desperate for money, Katherine had sold a part of herself in order that “some poor childless couple know the kind of joy I do.” At least, those had been her mother’s words when Ramona had finally confronted Katherine with her find.

Now Ramona could only hope that the eggs had been used and that somewhere out there she had a sibling walking around. A sibling whose bone marrow would turn out to be a perfect match for her mother.

Finding this sibling was far more important to Ramona than breaking the story of any ethical wrongdoing on the institute’s part.

But she wouldn’t be able to do either if this bipolar man made good on his threat to terminate her before she even got started in her search. For that to happen, she needed to get entrenched here. She already knew that calling the institute’s administration office with her plight was an exercise in futility. When she had, the woman on the other end of the line had briskly told her that accessing the old records would be a violation of those patients’ right to privacy.

Yeah, right. As if the Armstrongs and their minions actually cared a fig about doing the right thing.

“You were hired,” Paul began slowly, trying to carefully hit all the salient points, “by someone who didn’t have the proper authority to hire anyone by himself.”

Ramona felt her temper shortening.

“I don’t understand,” she said, hoping that the smile on her lips didn’t look as fake as it felt to her.

Paul backtracked in his head, realizing that he’d failed to state the most obvious part, the part that would instantly untangle the rest. Or so he hoped.

“You see, I’m twins.”

She stared at him, her blue eyes widening. “You are?”

That sounded stupid, he upbraided himself. “I mean, I’m one of twins. I have a brother,” he told her. “He looks just like me. His name’s Derek and he’s the one who hired you.”

Her expression never changed, but her tone was slightly incredulous as she asked, “You’re not Derek Armstrong?”

Finally. The light at the end of the tunnel was beginning to materialize, he thought, relieved. “No, I’m Paul.”

Twins. Damn, how had she missed that? She’d been so consumed with getting ammunition against the institute and being angry because they wouldn’t just help her get at the information she needed to, hopefully, find a sibling, she’d completely skimmed over the Armstrongs’ family dynamics.

She needed to be more thorough, Ramona told herself sternly.

Cocking her head, she scrutinized the man in front of her, doing her best to give off an aura of sweetness. She knew that she could be all but irresistible if she wanted to be. She eased her conscience by reminding herself that this was definitely not for personal gain. This was for her mother.

“Now that you mention it, you do look a little more robust and athletic than you—I mean, your brother—did yesterday.” She was five-seven, not exactly a petite flower. But the man before her was taller, way taller. He looked even more so since she was sitting and he was not.

Ramona raised her eyes to his in a studied look of innocent supplication. A look she’d practiced more than once. “So he—your brother—can’t hire me?”

Now she was getting it, Paul thought. “Not by himself, no.”

Again she cocked her head, employing a certain come-hither look as she asked him, “Can he hire me if you hire me?”

Why did he feel as if the ground beneath his feet was turning from shale to sand, leaving him nothing solid to stand on? “Not without Lisa’s okay,” he heard himself say hoarsely.

Another country heard from, Ramona thought impatiently, trying to remember exactly how many Armstrongs worked at the institute. Her smile never wavered as she repeated, “Lisa?”

Paul nodded, trying not to stare. Was it his imagination, or did she somehow suddenly look more beautiful? “My younger sister. She’s the head administrator here at the institute.”

That had to have been the cold voice on the phone, Ramona thought. “Does anyone else have a vote?”

He smiled and she thought he had a rather nice smile. It softened his features and made him appear less distant and forbidding.

“No, that’s it,” he assured her. “Just the three of us.”

She nodded slowly, as if taking it all in and digesting the information. What she was really doing was casting about for a way to appeal to him and make him let her remain.

“Well,” she said slowly with a drop of seduction woven in, “we know that I have your brother’s vote. Do I have yours?”

For one unguarded moment, he could have sworn that he felt some sort of a sharp pull, an attraction to this young woman. But then he told himself it was just that he had always appreciated beauty no matter where he came across it. He certainly couldn’t allow it to cloud his judgment, especially when it came to the institute.

Still, a public relations manager might prove useful, he supposed. Paul was honest in his answer. “I’d have to think about it.”

She appeared undaunted. “Well, that’s better than ‘no,’” Ramona allowed.

Faced with her optimism, Paul wavered a little more in his stand, shifting in a direction he knew that Lisa would easily disapprove. “I tell you what. Let me talk to the others and we’ll get back to you.”

Ramona smiled. It made him think of a sunrise. Warm and full of promise. And then she looked just a tad shy as she asked, “In the meantime, would it be all right if I drafted a press release?”

“A press release?” Paul echoed, confused. “About what?”

“About doctors Demetrios and Bonner joining your staff. Mr. Armstrong—Mr. Derek Armstrong,” she amended, “said that so far, no mention had been made of the transition. I think it would be a big plus for the institute, not to mention that it would be a huge draw, as well.” Not that the institute actually needed it, she thought. The rich and famous flocked here, and the masses followed. “These two researchers are very famous in their field.”

“I know,” he said, amused that she believed she was telling him something he wasn’t aware of.

“Of course you do.” Holding her breath just so allowed the right amount of pink to creep into her cheeks. She instinctively knew that Paul was the kind of man who reacted to blushes, even though it was as out of date as a silver disco ball. “I just meant that it should be brought to people’s attention. It’s positive reinforcement.” And then she flashed him another guileless smile. “I promise I won’t do anything with the draft until I get your—all of your,” she amended, “okays.”

She sounded so eager and upbeat, Paul found that he hadn’t the heart to tell her to wait until after he’d won Lisa over. Lisa could be difficult at times, especially if she felt that her territory was being encroached upon and threatened. Her earlier tirade was likely only the tip of the iceberg on this matter.

“That’ll be fine,” he told her and then he quickly walked out of the room before he wound up agreeing to something else.

He needed to find Derek and have a few choice words with his brother for putting him in this situation. A few very choice words.

He found Derek just outside his brother’s office, engaged in what appeared to be a very private conversation with one of the newer and younger administrative assistants. From the looks of it, it appeared that groundwork for far more than further conversation was being laid.

Suppressing a sigh, Paul inserted himself between the exceedingly perky young redhead in the platform heels and his brother. “Excuse us, please, um—” He had no idea what the young woman’s name was.

“Danielle.” Both the young woman and Derek said the name at the same time, which caused them to exchange more covert looks. Paul heard the assistant smother a giggle.

“Danielle,” Paul repeated with a slight nod of his head, “I need to speak with my brother.”

“Of course.” Inclining her head, the administrative assistant drew away. But not before she exchanged one more overtly steamy, sexy glance with the institute’s CFO.

Paul walked into his brother’s recently remodeled office and waited for Derek to follow. Which Derek did. Languidly.

The moment the door was closed, Paul immediately started talking. “What the hell were you thinking, hiring that young girl?” he demanded.

Derek looked at him, apparently confused. “Who?”

“The one sitting in Connie Winston’s old office. Your so-called PR manager.”

If he was aware of the sarcasm in his brother’s voice, Derek didn’t show it. “Oh, you mean Ramona Tate.” Derek grinned broadly, obviously pleased with himself. “That was a real lucky break.”

Derek was usually more intuitive than this. Ordinarily, he picked up on tension. Maybe his brother thought it would all just go away if he didn’t acknowledge it. Think again, Derek. If nothing else, Paul wanted some of the ground rules reaffirmed.

“Some of us,” he told Derek, “don’t think so.”

Derek laughed shortly. “By ‘some’ I take it you mean Lisa and you.” Even as he said the words amicably, he knew the answer. Just as he knew that their baby sister was behind this confrontation. Even as a kid, Lisa was into power plays. As the youngest of the Armstrong children, she always wanted to come out on top, to be the one the others listened to.

Putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder, Derek said patiently, “Paul, you’re an excellent physician and a wonderful chief of staff here at the institute. If you ask me, you deserve a lot more credit than you’re getting. But let’s be honest, there’s no denying that the institute needs help.”

“I got us help,” Paul pointed out tersely. “I got Demetrios and Bonner to leave their hospital and join the institute. In case you missed it, they’re the cutting-edge research team who—”

“I didn’t miss it,” Derek answered crisply, cutting in. “But I just might have been the only one around who didn’t.”

Paul had absolutely no idea what that even meant. “What?”

“Exactly,” Derek declared as if Paul had made his point for him. “What newspaper was that where the press release announcing their joining the institute was run? Oh, wait, it wasn’t,” he said with exaggerated enlightenment. “Because we had no one manning our PR desk to make that press release. But we do now,” he concluded with a smug, triumphant smile.

Paul was easygoing up to a point, but he dug in now. If he didn’t take a stand here, he might as well just lie down and have Derek walk all over him. “Not until Lisa and I agree to hire her.”

“Then agree,” Derek told him, trying to control his irritation. “Because she’s already hired.”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” Derek wanted to know. “I hired her yesterday.”

“And I put her on temporary notice.”

The smile evaporated instantly. Derek exploded. “For God’s sake, why?”

Paul dug deep for patience. Derek, he knew, was accustomed to doing whatever he wanted to unopposed. But when it came to the institute, important decisions had to involve all three of them. They’d agreed on that when they took over the famous facility from their ailing father.

As if it was the first time, Paul doled his words out evenly. “Because you can’t just go off and do this kind of thing whenever you feel like it without at least consulting Lisa and me.”

“So you’re going to let Ramona go because you’re mad at me?” he asked in abject disbelief. Derek shook his head in amazement. “Boy, leave it to you to be such a cliché.”

Paul’s gaze became flinty. “Excuse me?”

Derek frowned, exasperated. “That old chestnut about cutting off your nose to spite your face. That’s what you’re doing.”

Any moment now, his brother was going to throw a tantrum, Paul thought. “You’re carrying on as if I just fired Woodward and Bernstein. That girl looks like she’s barely out of high school, let alone college. We implant embryos here, Derek, we don’t hire them.”

Derek raised his voice to be heard over him. “Ramona Tate is twenty-five years old and she has impressive credentials—”

“Which I’m sure you checked thoroughly.” Paul couldn’t help the note of sarcasm that came into his voice. He sincerely doubted that Derek had done anything but glance at her résumé.

Derek squared his shoulders indignantly. “I was getting to that.”

Sure you were, Paul thought. “Want another old chestnut?”

Derek slanted a glance toward him, a suspicious look entering his eyes. “Like what?”

“Like you’re putting the cart before the horse.” In this case, he’d hired the woman and planned to rubber-stamp her references—if she even had any.

A deep chuckle escaped Derek’s lips. “Maybe you didn’t notice—and if you didn’t, you’d be the only one who wouldn’t—but this ‘horse’ has lines that could stop a charging rhino in his tracks.”

Paul sighed, shaking his head. “So this is about your libido.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Unlike you, I have one, but in this case I was thinking of the institute.”

Paul leaned a hip against his brother’s desk. “This I have to hear.”

“There’s nothing wrong in having an extremely attractive—and able—woman to represent us. To be the ‘face’ of the Armstrong Fertility Institute.” Seeing that he was losing Paul, Derek hurried to add, “Which would you rather look at when it comes to getting your information, a gnarled, short, bald, fat man or an attractive young woman who makes your blood surge and makes you think of fertility just by looking at her?”

“I’d just as soon get it in a report on my desk.”

Derek threw up his hands. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

Paul made no comment on that. He didn’t feel he needed to defend himself. This wasn’t about him, or Derek. This was about their father’s legacy. “How much is she costing the institute?”

Derek rallied for a second defense. “Not as much as you would think—and Ramona is worth every penny of it.”

Paul gave his twin a knowing look. “I’ll bet.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Paul. I was referring to the press release I asked her to prepare.”

Was that why the woman had asked him if she could draft a statement? “About?” he asked cautiously, wanting to see if the stories agreed.

“Your dynamic duo, of course. Bonner and Demetrios bring their own sterling reputations to the table—just as you planned.” Derek wasn’t above trying to butter his brother up if he had to. “We get the public focusing on that, they’ll forget the rumors.”

He blew out a breath, then looked at Paul hopefully. “So how about it, Paul? Can we take her off notice and just watch her work?” He put his arm around his brother’s shoulders in a gesture of solidarity. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

There was no way that Derek could guarantee that. “And if I am?”

Derek laughed. “Not even you can be that much of a stodgy old man.” Derek tapped his brother’s chest with the back of his hand. “Loosen up, Paul. You’ll not only live longer, but you’ll get to enjoy yourself, too.”

“I do enjoy my life,” Paul insisted. And he did. He was dedicated to continuing his father’s work and to granting childless couples their fondest wish. That was more than enough for him.

Derek merely shook his head. “Can’t see how, but okay. Do you know where Lisa is?”

Paul laughed quietly. “Most likely sharpening her tongue so she can give you a good lashing.”

“That’s why I want to head her off,” Derek confessed. “I was hoping to make a preemptive strike.”

Paul thought of the expression on Lisa’s face when she burst into his office earlier. “Too late,” he speculated.

Derek was not easily defeated. And he had the ability to talk someone to death—or at least until he got what he wanted.

“Maybe not,” he countered as he went off in search of their sister. Ramona Tate was staying and that was that. He was not about to tolerate being overridden. The institute needed to continue to make money and that was not going to happen if people—wealthy people—stopped coming to avail themselves of what they had to offer here. Their focus needed to be redirected to a positive image, and Ramona Tate seemed just the person to do it.

Both he and the institute would benefit from that.