SH Medical 08 - The Baby Dilemma (6 page)

He’d felt that way sometimes after a difficult shift, cleaning up the aftermath of a crime. No matter how hard he tried to toughen up, he couldn’t shrug off everything. In the case of an obstetrician, he could imagine all sorts of things that might go wrong, and she was the kind of doctor who cared.

“Can I fix you waffles?” Mike offered. “They’re whole wheat. I brought them from home.”

For a moment, he thought she might decline. Then, as if releasing a burden, she said, “You know what? I’d like that very much.”

They went into the kitchen. “Make yourself at home,” he teased, indicating the round glass table near the front window. “There’s coffee, too. Or will that keep you awake?”

“Not usually but I think I’ll have herb tea,” she said.

“I’ll fix it.” A kettle sat right on the stove, and Mike found the teabags in the adjacent cupboard.

She collapsed into a high-backed white chair. “I may never move again.”

“You may not have to,” he responded, and set to work with enthusiasm. Because in the past few minutes, an idea had taken shape.

Whatever was bothering Paige, she shouldn’t have to cope with it alone. Mike just needed to get her in the right mood and he could solve both of their problems.

Chapter Six

Paige didn’t want Mike Aaron to be the first person she told that she was pregnant. Yet the urge to confide in him was almost irresistible.

What a relief it had been when he confronted that jerk and sent him on his way. Also, after last night’s break-in, she appreciated not having to worry about returning home alone. With his presence out front, Mike had been almost literally keeping watch on the house.

Now he was fixing her breakfast. When was the last time anyone had done that? Aunt Bree, before she got sick, but that had been years ago. And Bree hadn’t had a powerful set of shoulders, lean hard hips and a teasingly masculine day’s growth of beard.

I must be giddy from lack of sleep.
Paige let her eyelids drift shut and inhaled the scent of waffles browning in the toaster oven. It eased the churning in her stomach.

“Falling asleep?” Mike’s deep voice rumbled into her awareness.

“Close to it.”

“Don’t let me stop you.”

She pried her eyelids open. “I’d better eat. I’ll sleep more deeply and longer if I do.”

“You don’t have a problem sleeping during daylight?” he asked. “I had a hell of a time when I worked rotating shifts. Threw my whole body rhythm out of whack. I guess there’s a medical term for that.”

“Circadian rhythms,” Paige replied, shifting instinctively into scientist mode. “People, animals, plants, even microbes are genetically programmed to follow roughly a 24-hour cycle, although we’re also influenced by external cues such as light. There’s a science that studies circadian rhythms, called chronobiology.
Chrono
comes from the Greek word for time.”

“Wow.” Mike slanted her an admiring grin. “No need to browse the internet with you around.”

“We pack our brains with an immense amount in medical school. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make doctors impervious to human weakness.” Paige felt as if she’d used up her last ounce of energy with that recitation. She was glad when the kettle whistled, and Mike lifted it off the burner. He’d scrounged up a cup and teabag, she noticed. “You’re handy in the kitchen.”

“My parents ran a tight ship, with so many foster kids to take care of,” he responded as he poured the steaming water. “We learned to cook, clean and do laundry. By the time I turned twelve, they made me third in command.”

“Your sister’s younger?”

“By three years.” He set the cup and a spoon in front of her. “Sugar?”

“I take it plain. Smells wonderful.” She let the fragrance waft over her. “So you were the big brother. Whereas I’m the kid sister, with five siblings who all believed they were the boss of me.”

“You had to choose between fight and flight?”

“Ultimately, I chose both.”

“Good for you.” He set out a plate of waffles along with maple syrup, the real kind that Paige hadn’t tasted in years. That further demonstrated his domestic value.

Domestic? There was a term she’d never expected to apply to Mike Aaron.

“Aren’t you having any?” she asked.

“I already ate.”

“Mind sitting with me?”

“Glad to.”

When he took a seat opposite her, Paige released a long breath. While she didn’t feel like confiding in Mike, she wasn’t ready to be alone with her thoughts, either.

Since the moment when the stick turned blue, she’d been assailed by emotions from joy to anxiety. Yet she’d had no time to assimilate her reactions, with two more deliveries this morning.

One had gone smoothly. In the other birth, Paige had immediately recognized the indications of Down syndrome in the little girl: floppy muscle tone, a slightly flattened face with an upward slant to the eyes that didn’t mirror the parents’ appearance, plus a telltale single crease across the palms of the hands. Although the mother’s physician had screened her, the test had failed to detect the disorder. While the diagnosis couldn’t be confirmed without a chromosome study, Jared had recognized the signs also when Paige called him in. Thank goodness the neonatologist had still been at the hospital.

A short time later, she’d informed the stunned parents. She’d stayed with them after her twelve-hour shift until family members arrived along with their minister, who had a son with Down syndrome. While this couple faced a difficult road ahead, they had strong support. Paige hoped that, like another patient of hers, they’d find the child’s learning and health issues more than counterbalanced by her overwhelming gift for love.

Paige knew better than to dwell on the possibility of something going wrong with her own child; a doctor could drive herself crazy that way. But the situation had arisen at a stressful time, just as she was trying to absorb the reality of her pregnancy. And it had taxed the last of her energy.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ve come home from some night shifts so drained I could barely move,” Mike commented gently.

Paige finished a mouthful of syrupy waffle. “It
was
a rough night. I don’t usually fall apart like this.”

“You aren’t falling apart. No weeping, wailing or gnashing of teeth,” he corrected. “And while my timing may not be ideal, I’d like to run something by you.”

She knew instinctively he wanted to talk about moving in. How could she muster the strength to resist this kind, strong man who’d stood up for her when she needed him? But common sense warned that she must. “Mike…”

“Please hear me out.” In the pure morning light, his gray eyes regarded her earnestly.

It was simpler to listen than to argue. Plus, she felt an inexplicable longing to delay the moment when she had to send him away. “Fine.”

“I love the location. Also, I promised my brother I’d move out of my old place as soon as possible. Why not rent me the spare room for the summer?” As Mike spoke logically, Paige felt her resistance melting. “I can have my fun in the sun, and it’ll give me a couple of months to find another place before fall.”

Her better judgment warned her to grab an excuse, any excuse, to say no. Being around this man meant risking a relationship sure to end in disappointment. “Then I’ll have to go through the whole housemate hunt again.”

“Yes, but it will be easier in the fall,” Mike continued. “I presume the house next door leases to someone steadier during the winter months.” That was the usual pattern with beach rentals. “You’ll have a quieter environment, which will make this place more attractive to a roommate.”

“Good point.” A pair of middle-aged male teachers had a standing arrangement to lease the place September through May. During the summers, when the rent quadrupled, they traveled. Last winter, after the halfway house opened, they’d served as a kind of buffer, which had made the past week since they moved out doubly unpleasant.

“You’ll consider it?” Mike’s jaw tightened as if biting down on further arguments.

Paige did some quick calculations. His proposal made a lot of sense. With her baby due in early February, she couldn’t expect a roommate to stay past the first of the year anyway. If he moved out in September, she could decorate the nursery at her leisure, and—despite the excuse she made earlier—she wouldn’t inconvenience some innocent roommate who expected to stay indefinitely.

That left one problem. A big one. Around him, her pregnancy-heightened senses quivered at the infusion of masculinity into the atmosphere. They’d be sharing a bathroom, lounging in the living room in bathrobes…and the mere prospect of seeing Mike in a swimsuit made her breasts tighten.

How could she put this delicately? “You and I don’t exactly have a platonic relationship,” Paige murmured. “Living together is asking for trouble.”

With a twinkle, Mike said, “Did I mention that I called a glass-repair service last night? There’s a repairman coming to fix your door at three o’clock.”

One more matter she didn’t have to worry about. Paige wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “That’s cheating.”

“Just my way of showing how useful I can be.” Mike quirked an eyebrow as if encouraging her to say yes.

“Doesn’t change the situation.” She wished she sounded more decisive. Paige hadn’t felt this vulnerable since her teen years, when she fought off her family’s opposition to her majoring in premed at the University of Texas. Then, she’d relied on Aunt Bree’s support, through letters and phone calls, to bolster her confidence. Now, she had no one to lean on.

No one but Mike. And the longer he sat here regarding her hopefully, the more powerful her inclination to yield.

He indicated her empty plate. “Want more?”

Yes, but she’d better not. “Thanks, but no.”
And that goes for your suggestion about moving in, too.
Yet somehow the words failed to reach her mouth.

Mike stretched. His legs bumped hers, and it took a moment to shift around and arrange themselves so both pairs of extra-long limbs had room. “Sorry about that.” He didn’t sound sorry, though.

Paige struggled to make her point. “Mike, let’s get back to the asking-for-trouble part.”

“If you don’t want it to happen, it won’t,” he countered coolly.

“That’s the problem,” she admitted.

“Why does it have to be a problem?”

“Because while we might have a good time, I don’t believe we’re compatible in the long run.” She hoped he wasn’t going to get his feelings hurt, because this had nothing to do with him.
If I weren’t pregnant…
But she was.

“Neither do I,” he said calmly.

Ouch.
“Oh?”

“I’m open to whatever happens between us.” He gave a small shrug. “Maybe nothing. Maybe a lot of fun. Likely things won’t work out in the long-term. If that bothers you, I promise to keep my hands and other body parts to myself. The last thing I want is a messy situation.”

She felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. “Even though I agree with you, I’m curious why you’re so sure we’re incompatible.”

“I saw the baby magazine in the bathroom.”

Paige caught her breath. “So?” Surely he didn’t guess that she was pregnant. Even a detective couldn’t be that sharp.

“You want kids.” Mike shook his head.

“And you don’t?”

He folded his hands on the table. “Growing up, I got my fill of mentoring kids and living in chaos. I’m strictly an adults-only kind of guy. When I was younger, people told me I’d change my mind. Well, I’m thirty-three. That’s old enough to be sure.”

She shouldn’t feel so let down, Paige chided herself. Even if he didn’t have an aversion to babies, she could hardly expect him to raise another man’s child.

Oddly, the certainty that they had no future together proved reassuring. She needn’t worry about false expectations on either of their parts. And right now she felt a lot safer with a man in the house, especially one as capable as Mike. Why not keep him around for the summer?

“I love the way your thoughts show on your face,” Mike said. “It’s better than an action movie.”

“Watch the teasing. You might make me reconsider,” she warned.

An off-center grin lit his face. “Does that mean I’m in?”

“We’ll need ground rules,” Paige warned. “About privacy, neatness, inviting friends over and so on.”

“I’m housebroken, I assure you.” Mike sat back, clearly pleased. “And I happen to like rules. They let everyone know where they stand.”

When he smiled that way, Paige had to fight the impulse to cup his handsome, scratchy face with her palm. “I’ll prorate the rent since we’re already a week into the month.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He piled her empty cup atop her plate. “Also, since I’ll be borrowing a truck, I can move out your old furniture if you’ll tell me where to take it.”

She’d seen a notice on the bulletin board that morning seeking donations for a fundraising yard sale sponsored by Samantha Forrest’s counseling center. “Can I give you that address tomorrow? You’re welcome to use the bed or the couch till then.”

“Works for me.” Mike carried the dishes to the sink.

As she arose stiffly, Paige hoped she’d made the right decision. Because one way or the other, life around here was about to change.