Читать книгу Baby, Baby - Roz Denny Fox - Страница 6

January 4

MICHAEL CAMERON TURNED UP his coat collar before he stepped out of the cab. He took care to shield his medical bag from the cold, relentless rain blowing into New York City. “Keep the change,” he told the cabby, thrusting a folded bill through a slit in the window. Hunched into his topcoat, Michael stared up at the window of his luxury midtown Manhattan penthouse. Now he wished he hadn’t asked his secretary to phone Lacy and forewarn her of his arrival. She would be furious at his leaving her in the lurch again. “As if I have a choice,” he muttered, taking the front steps two at a time.

Bettis, the attendant on duty, opened the building’s main door. He extended Michael a large umbrella. “Nasty weather, eh, Doc?”

“Thanks.” Michael shook wet hair out of his eyes as he ducked under the canvas. “Nasty all right, but at least it hasn’t turned to sleet.” He lingered, making small talk. The longer he avoided the scene that surely awaited him upstairs, the better.

“Home early today, huh?” Bettis closed the umbrella and reached around Michael to press the button summoning the private elevator. “Big evening, I guess.” The older man winked. “Saks delivered Mrs. Cameron’s new dress. Oops. Don’t tell her I spilled the beans. I think she planned to surprise you.”

Michael frowned as he entered the elevator. “Lacy bought a new dress for tonight? Damn,” he muttered. Keeping the door ajar with his bag, he pushed back one cuff to check a flat gold watch. “I need a cab out front by two, Bettis. I’m scheduled on a five-twenty international flight. In this weather, traffic to JFK will be hell.”

The doorman nodded briskly, but his eyes were sympathetic as Michael let the door close. Michael hoped he hadn’t revealed his own unsettled feelings. It galled him to think the staff had probably discussed his rocky marriage—although it shouldn’t surprise him that Bettis was aware of his and Lacy’s problems. After all, the doorman occasionally dated the Camerons’ housekeeper.

Michael dug for his door key as the elevator glided to a stop outside his apartment. Could he really blame staff for talking when the situation between him and Lacy had gone from bad to worse over the past ten months? That was why he’d arranged a night out, hoping to mend their latest rift. An unexpected trip was the last thing he needed. But there was no other option. Throwing back his shoulders, Michael braced for battle as he moved to insert his key in the lock.

Surprisingly, the door swung inward. Caught off balance, Michael pitched forward, hands flailing, as Lacy flung herself at his chest. The key flew in one direction and his bag in the other, and Michael’s arms circled his wife’s too thin frame. His shocked sputter ended with a mouthful of Lacy’s fine blond hair. She paid no attention to his incoherent gurgle, only fused her mouth with his as she stripped him of his coat, jacket and tie.

“Mmm, Michael,” she whispered seductively. “When Maxine phoned to say you were leaving the clinic early, I sent Mrs. Parker to a movie.” Lacy’s momentum propelled Michael into the bedroom where they both toppled onto a king-size bed.

“Lacy, what the…?” He’d barely lifted himself onto his elbows when she unfastened her peachy satin robe to expose naked skin. Pressing her lips against his, she wound around him again. The kiss smothered his second attempt to speak. With sure fingers, she unbuckled his belt and released the zipper of his slacks.

“I see you’re ready, too,” she cooed, leaving his mouth long enough to run a wet tongue from his navel to the bulge of white cotton springing from the open zipper.

Michael exhaled swiftly. “La…c…y.” Her name was a groan ripped from his tortured lungs as she quickly slid over his erection with grasping hands and initiated a frenzied ride.

Release came for Michael before he caught his breath. The speed embarrassed him, yet he was more concerned about their rough coupling. It’d been weeks since they’d said two civil words to each other, let alone had sex. “God, Lacy, are you all right?” he gasped, raising his torso enough to ease her aside.

She pouted as she slid to the edge of the bed. Tossing her shoulder-length hair, she matter-of-factly retied her robe. “I thought this would be an incentive for you to come home early more often, Michael. Heaven knows your technique needs practice.”

He winced, as much at her underlying rebuke as the bright lamp she’d snapped on. “Lacy, what exactly did Maxie Lucas say when she phoned?”

“That you asked her to let me know you were on your way home. Why?” Her blue eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.

Michael rolled off the bed and raked an unsteady hand through tousled brown hair. “Maxie was to warn you that I was on my way home to pack. The fourteen-year-old Norwegian girl I told you about has moved to the head of our transplant list. I got a call an hour ago. We have a match. I’m flying out tonight.”

A crash followed by breaking glass brought his head spinning around. Lacy, her pretty face contorted by anger, had cleared the nightstand with a sweep of her hand. Pill bottles lay strewn amid jagged pieces of glass from their smashed wedding photo.

“Dammit! I didn’t set out to disappoint you, Lacy. But I am the chief surgeon on the international heart-lung transplant team. I’d expect you, of all people, not to begrudge a child her chance.”

“I don’t need a doctor now, Michael. I need a husband.”

One of his eyebrows shot up to meet a rain-wet lock of hair.

“I hate that superior attitude you get, Michael. Almost as much as I hate that the first question out of your mouth after we made love was, ‘Are you all right, Lacy?”’

“Not this argument again,” he growled. “Getting over-tired, flu, colds—anything causing undue stress can still put your transplanted organs in jeopardy. Dammit, I don’t like arguing, Lacy. If it wasn’t such awful weather in Norway, I’d take you with me.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun?” she drawled sarcastically. “I could sit around a hotel while you spend twenty-four hours a day at the hospital. No, thank you, Michael.”

“Then call Faith. She didn’t have any time off at Christmas to visit, but maybe she’d like a break from Boston now. You two can take in some shows. I don’t think she’s seen the apartment since you redecorated this last time.”

“That’s because my sister spends as many hours at her hospital as you do at yours. I’ll go to the beach house—again. The sailing crowd doesn’t treat me like an invalid.” Her last words were muffled as she pulled a suitcase from the closet and flopped it open on the bed. With an aggrieved air, she folded a new silk dress that hung on the closet door.

“I refuse to be made to feel guilty about this, Lacy. I was a surgeon when you married me, and I’m a surgeon still. Name one thing you’ve ever wanted that I haven’t given you.”

“Your time, Michael.”

He gestured helplessly, then turned away to shed his remaining clothes. He strode into the bathroom and wrenched on the shower, returning to the bedroom just long enough to yank a black flight bag from the closet. “I took an oath to heal, Lacy. It’s what I do.”

“Amen. Not a day goes by that you don’t ask if I’ve taken my pills. If I’m doing my breathing treatments. If I’m warm enough. Et cetera, et cetera.”

“A few precautions seem a small price to pay for enjoying a normal life.”

“Normal?” Lacy paused in the act of pulling on a pair of slacks. “Normal women’s lives don’t revolve around endless checkups and buckets of pills, Michael. The don’ts in my life outweigh the dos. Don’t walk in the rain, Lacy. Don’t play in the snow. Don’t climb mountains. Don…don’t have children.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “Your anti-rejection drugs place you at risk. Add to that the normal stress of carrying a child—but you know all this, Lacy.”

“Yes, Dr. God. Tell me again how normal I am.” With jerky movements, Lacy tucked in her blouse and began flinging clothing into the suitcase.

“There’s adoption,” Michael ventured after a pause. “But we’d need to solve our differences first.”

Stone-faced, Lacy continued to fill the case as if he hadn’t said a word.

Doubling a fist, Michael smacked the door casing on his way into the shower. When Lacy wore that closed expression, there was no discussing anything with her. Meanwhile, it was getting late. A kid in Norway counted on him. Lacy had been given a second chance. Why in hell couldn’t she appreciate the fact?

By the time Michael dried off and dressed to travel, Lacy had packed the third in a trio of matched luggage. Michael folded two suits and several shirts into his bag. “How long are you planning to stay at the beach?” he asked, eyeing her growing pile of luggage. Not waiting for her answer, he took his shaving kit into the bathroom to fill.

“Why would you care?” She elbowed past him and scooped an array of cosmetics into an overnight case.

“You’re my wife. Why wouldn’t I care?” His bafflement increased when she slammed the lid, tossed the small case with the others, then went to pick up the phone.

After punching in a series of numbers, she spoke into the receiver. “Bettis, this is Mrs. Cameron. Call the garage and have them send the Mercedes around. Then please come to the suite and collect my bags.”

“It’s pouring rain,” Michael said quietly. “If you must go today, call the car service to take you. I’ll arrange a few days off when I get back from Norway. We’ll drive back to New York together.”

“Go to hell,” she said in a voice that dripped honey.

“Lacy, dammit!” He faced her across the bed. “Why do you always have to pick a fight before I go on a trip?”

“And you’re forever off on one, aren’t you? For all we’re together, I may as well be single. I…I’ve made up my mind, Michael. I’m filing for divorce.”

“Divorce,” he said in a strangled voice. “God, Lacy.” His knees buckled and he dropped heavily to the bed just as a sharp rap sounded at the front door. Michael couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat. He knew things hadn’t been good, but—

Lacy left the bedroom. Moments later she led Bettis in to get her bags. The doorman eyed the broken glass. He made no comment, only gathered the cases as Lacy directed.

Michael caught her wrist or she would have gone without saying goodbye. “Don’t do anything rash until I get back,” he begged in a low voice. “Give me a chance to put things right. I’ll take a few weeks off. We’ll go to the Bahamas or something.”

She jerked from his hold. “It’s over, Michael. I’ve never been anything more to you than your first transplant.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes. Find another star patient. I want a man who sees me as a woman.”

Stunned, Michael watched her walk away. It was some time before he stood and resumed filling his shaving kit. He studied the hands reaching for his razor. A surgeon’s hands. His skill had brought them together. Well, technically, Lacy’s sister, Faith, had brought them together. She was a nurse at the Boston hospital where Michael had done his residency. Lacy was the one who’d demanded he set up practice in New York.

How had they gone from building a future together to…contemplating divorce? With hands not quite steady, Michael knocked a packet of pills from a shelf in the medicine cabinet. Absently he retrieved it. Lacy’s birth control pills. In her haste she must have forgotten them.

Michael dashed out of the apartment to catch her. Halfway to the elevator, he stopped. This was a full dispenser. Probably an extra that Lacy’s gynecologist had given her in case they had to travel on short notice.

A shiver coursed through Michael’s body as he recalled what had happened earlier. Replaying the scene in his mind, he felt his blood begin to flow again. Granted, Lacy could be impulsive, but she wasn’t foolhardy. Those were just angry words she’d thrown out, hoping to make him stay home. Her threats had become habit—a way to manipulate him. And he’d refused to bend. They were both at fault.

Sighing, he retraced his steps. He’d phone her the minute he reached his hotel in Trondheim. Once he turned the patient over to her own team for follow-up care, he’d talk to his partner about taking time off. Dominic would understand.

Michael finished packing and wrote a note to the housekeeper, letting her know that he and Lacy would be away for a week or so. He felt better for having a solid plan in place. Shifting his bags, he locked the door and went down to meet his cab.