The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? Page 2

  “An understatement.”

  “Well, I’ve brought the cavalry.” Lisa turned toward Sara Beth. “We’ve decided to free up Sara Beth from some of her regular assignments and let her help you and Dr. Demetrios with your investigation.”

  For a few long moments he stayed silent, his expression giving away nothing, then he said, “Her help is gratefully accepted.”

  That was way too easy, Sara Beth thought. Which was a good thing, right? If they could work without dissension, they could cover a lot more ground more quickly. Maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she was spying, either. And maybe her pulse would stop pounding so hard.

  “On one condition,” he added. “Call me Ted. You, too, Sara Beth.”

  Sara Beth waited for Lisa’s reply. Lisa’s father, the institute’s founder, had always insisted on using titles. But then, not only was he retired, he was almost completely bedridden. He never came into the institute anymore.

  Lisa’s shoulders relaxed. “Except in front of patients or VIPs.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Should I call Dr. Demetrios or would you like to tell him?”

  Ted pulled a cell phone from his pocket and pushed one button, then waited. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Chance.” His brows went up at whatever Dr. Demetrios’s response was. “I’ll make it quick, then. I just wanted you to know that Ms. O’Connell will be assisting us for a while so that we can get to the bottom of the issues around here…. Yes, Sara Beth…. Yes, the one with the long, dark red hair. How many other Ms. O’Connells are there? You work with her every—Oh. A joke.”

  He tipped the phone down. “When are you starting?”

  “Immediately,” Lisa answered.

  Pride made Sara Beth not want him to know she didn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, so she started to say she would start the next day, but he spoke first.

  “Is tomorrow okay?” he asked Sara Beth. “I have plans tonight.”

  So. He did have a date. “That’d be fine.”

  “Tomorrow,” Dr. Bonner said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll do that. Bye.”

  He slid his phone back into his pocket. “Chance extends his thanks.”

  “I’ll leave you two to work out a schedule.” Lisa headed toward the door. “Sara Beth, you can plan on giving ten to fifteen hours a week to the project.”

  Then she was gone, and Sara Beth was left with Dr. Bon—Ted. Without Lisa as a buffer, they would have to talk….

  “I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said, twining her fingers. “I hope I can help you find the answers you need.”

  “Me, too. It’s been frustrating. I’m a scientist. Discovering the truth is what I do.”

  The way he said that made him seem like a superhero, a man whose ethical core was the heart and soul of him, as if truth mattered more than anything in the world.

  “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Nothing that you’ll find exciting. In fact, it’s tedious and painstaking, but it’s the only way to get the answers. We need to know if previous doctors implanted too many embryos or manipulated the statistics to boost the institute’s success numbers and therefore increase funding. So far we’ve been working with our more recent computerized records, but in order to dispute some of the claims, you might spend time reading old files from the archives vault, cross-checking and rechecking test results from before the institute switched to the new computer system.”

  The archive vault? Whatever else he said was lost. The archive vault. The vault. She would have reason to go inside it.

  Her heart thundered, a deafening pounding in her chest. What had been denied her all her life was within her reach—because in the vault was her mother’s medical file, detailing her artificial insemination.

  A hundred times Sara Beth had almost asked Lisa to help her find that file, and a hundred times she’d decided not to risk their friendship by asking. Lisa never could have allowed it, even for her very best friend.

  And now, if Sara Beth was lucky, she could find a reference to the name of the man who’d donated the sperm that had given her life.

  Forget paper hearts. This could be her red-letter day.

  Chapter Two

  Ted stopped talking when he saw Sara Beth tune out, something that usually only happened to him when he was explaining data or experiment results, which wasn’t the case this time. He’d only been telling her what tasks in the investigation she could take on in order to speed things up.

  She was looking straight at him, her dark brown eyes glazed over. Should he wait for her to refocus or try to snap her out of it?

  He decided to give her a moment, noting that she looked different today. Younger…

  Her hair was down and loose—that was it. She usually had it pulled back in a braid as no-nonsense as her personality. Not that she was cold, but professional. Always. At least with him. He’d perceived her as shy at first, then had seen her interact with others and was bewildered by how she always seemed to avoid him.

  She’d caught his eye, of course, during the months he’d been working at the institute, but he’d seen what could happen when coworkers got involved romantically, so he’d avoided even engaging her in conversation, taking away any possibility of temptation at all.

  When he and Chance had accepted the offer to come to Cambridge to continue their research, he’d vowed to himself that he would try to be more aware of the world around him, to be more social, but that plan had been foiled almost immediately. He’d questioned the institute’s various protocols, finding some statistics that didn’t seem feasible, exaggerating the institute’s success rate. Although he and Chance hadn’t been involved in or responsible for the questionable issues, it was up to them to find the answers.

  For Ted, work was all consuming. His research to find a reliable way to treat male infertility took precedence, but clearing up the protocol issues came a close second. As for a personal life, he didn’t have one, and couldn’t figure out how Chance managed to have his practice, do research and still have time to date. Ted couldn’t manage all that.

  He finally waved a hand in front of Sara Beth’s face.

  She jerked back slightly, her cheeks brightening. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where I went. You were saying?”

  “You wanted to know what your duties would entail. I spelled them out.”

  “Specifically what will I be looking for?”

  He gestured her toward a tall lab chair, then sat in the one beside it. “Do you know what I found? What I’m trying to verify?”

  “I’d like to hear your take on it.”

  He got distracted by her sneakers, which she propped on the bottom rung, their scuffed toes at odds with her usually impeccable appearance. “You graduated from BC?” he asked, glancing at her T-shirt imprinted with the Boston College’s flying eagle mascot, Baldwin.

  She frowned at the change of subject. “From the Connell School of Nursing, yes. The institute gave me a full scholarship.”

  “I would venture to say you earned a full scholarship.”

  She seemed to relax for the first time since she’d walked into the lab. “I always loved to study.”

  “Me, too. I still do.”

  She gave him a knowing smile, as if he’d stated the obvious, which he supposed he had. He much preferred the confines of his lab to dealing with patients on a daily basis. He hated imparting bad news. And in the infertility business, bad news came frequently. He was happier in the lab.

  “So, you were going to tell me about what you found,” Sara Beth prompted.

  “Shortly after Chance and I came on board here, we discovered that some of the lab’s protocols weren’t measuring up. Data was incomplete or missing. Statistics weren’t matching results. Just as we were digging into the problems, Keeping Up with Medicine ran that story alleging that donor eggs and sperm had been switched for some clients, which raised all sorts of ethical questions about how we do business.”

  “The article nev
er named the source of the allegations.”

  “Nor confirmed them. Then they were proved unfounded and a retraction was made. But at the same time that we were working on that issue, we discovered an out-of-the-ordinary number of multiple births following in vitro over the past few years.”

  “Which means what?”

  “Numbers that big could pad the institute’s statistics, making the program seem more successful than it is. We have standards about how many embryos to implant. It looks like the standards might have been ignored. Because of the unusual success rate, the institute was able to obtain a lot more private donations and grant money than usual. Now the numbers are being challenged, and rightfully so.”

  What he wasn’t telling her was that every step he’d taken to resolve the problems had been met with resistance by Derek Armstrong, Paul and Lisa’s brother and the institute’s CFO. Chance was the only person Ted had confided in about that—so far. He couldn’t make accusations without proof, but Ted suspected Derek was involved somehow, whether as part of a cover-up or something even worse.

  “So, first of all,” Ted continued, “we need to prove or disprove the statistics. Then we need to create a best-practices manual of lab protocols, so if we’re ever questioned again, the answers will be readily available and backed up. I can use all the help I can get. The institute’s reputation is on the line, but so is my ability to continue my research.”

  She rubbed her hands together, as if anxious to get started right away. “I’ll check the appointment schedule for the rest of the week and see what I can do to rearrange things and free myself up. Would you prefer morning or afternoon?”

  “First thing in the morning.”

  She climbed off the chair and stuck out her hand. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He stayed seated, keeping himself closer to eye level. Her hand felt small in his, and warm, but also firm and direct. One of the traits he valued most in people was competency. She hadn’t been promoted to head nurse without proving her competency. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Sara Beth.”

  “Thank you. I feel the same.”

  He believed it. Her expression showed anticipation, as if she really couldn’t wait to get started. He’d tried to get across to her how tedious the work would be, especially if she had to work with the old files in the vault, poring over the folders. Well, she’d find out soon enough.

  “Have a nice evening,” he said.

  “You, too.” She headed toward the door, then turned around, walking backward. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Valentine’s—Damn. “Oh, uh, same to you,” he said, but the door had already closed behind her.

  Damn. Once again he’d screwed up. He glanced at his watch. He’d intended to leave more than an hour ago to buy a gift. Aside from the traditional, uncreative grocery-store offerings, what could he buy? When he’d lived in San Francisco he’d gotten away with having something sent, but Boston was home. He didn’t have that excuse anymore. He needed to take a personal gift this time, something thoughtful.

  From the lab window he spotted Lisa outside standing next to Sara Beth, hugging her helmet and laughing, looking much more carefree than the Sara Beth who’d just left his lab.

  He went still. Thoughts swirled. A plan formed. She might be of some help….

  Ted locked his computer, tossed his lab coat toward a hook, then raced out of the building as Lisa drove off. He encountered Sara Beth as she was buckling her helmet. Her face registered surprise—and a little wariness—as he descended on her.

  “I know we barely know each other,” he said. “But hear me out, please.”

  “Okay.” The word came out slowly, curiously.

  “This is the first time I’ve been home for Valentine’s Day since I graduated from high school.”

  “Boston is home?”

  He just nodded. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house in forty-five minutes for dinner. I need to take a gift.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to find roses at almost any market.”

  “And my mother would say ‘how lovely’ and that would be that. I want to do better than that. I want you to be my parents’ gift.”

  Her big brown eyes opened wide. “Excuse me?”

  He was pretty sure if she hadn’t been straddling her bike, she would’ve taken a few steps back, deciding he was a mad scientist.

  “If they think I’m dating someone, it’ll make them happier than anything I could buy.” He stopped short of begging, but appealed to the female tendency to nurture. “I know I’m asking an enormous favor. I know there’s no reason for you to say yes. You may—you probably do have a date already.”

  Of course she would have plans, an attractive woman like her. He felt ridiculous now for asking.

  “There’s not enough time,” she said finally, gesturing to her bike. “I would have to ride home and get myself ready.”

  “We’re not formal. I’m wearing what I have on, just adding a sport coat.”

  She gave him a skeptical look.

  He nodded toward his car. “I’ve got a bike rack.”

  Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of her beautiful old Victorian house, said he’d find a place to park, then come back with her bike, giving her no more time to answer than he had in the parking lot, not allowing her any opportunity to say no.

  He understood now the expression about someone having a deer-in-the-headlights look. She mumbled something about how to get to her second-floor apartment, then headed toward the house.

  He got lucky, coming across a car leaving just a block away. He hauled her bike to her place, where the front door was ajar. He climbed the stairs inside to her unit, where her door hung open.

  “Where do you want this?” he asked, rolling her bike inside.

  She pointed to an empty spot in the living room. “I’ll hurry.”

  She rushed into a room down the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

  Ted glanced around her living room. The house was probably built around the turn of the twentieth century, but had been remodeled recently, although still using original-looking hardwood floors, and an up-to-date kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. And yet the combined living room/dining area/kitchen space was also feminine. Flowers and pottery and bright colors and…comfort. Her furniture was built for sinking into, and looked inviting.

  One of these days he would get around to buying his own sofa.

  She had a nice view of the street. Most of the houses were from the same era, some better taken care of than others. She lived only blocks from the Red Line. She could take the subway or a bus to work, the bus being more practical—

  What if he factored in twice as much of the primary enzyme…?

  Ted grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her kitchen counter, sat down and started making notes, getting lost in a possibility he hadn’t considered before. Later—and he had no idea how much later—he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  He lifted his head so sharply he knocked into her. She yelped, fell back, grabbed her chin. He caught her by the arm to keep her from falling, the back of his hand accidentally pressing into her breast, her firm breast, surprisingly full for such a petite woman.

  He let go. She steadied herself, repeatedly rubbing her chin, her cheeks flushing a little, too.

  “I apologize, Sara Beth.” He gestured toward the three pieces of paper he’d been using to capture his thoughts. “I didn’t hear you. Are you all right? May I take a look?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “I am a doctor, you know.”

  “And I know nothing about medicine?”

  He smiled at the teasing tone in her voice, ran his thumb over her chin. “Move your jaw.” Her lemon-scented perfume made his nose twitch and drew him closer. “Everything feel normal?”

  “I’m fine. Really.” She stepped back, and he finally got a full picture of her. Basic black dress, with long sleeves, the neckline not too low or too high
, a gold locket, her hair down and curled, high heels that gave her a few inches extra height, which was probably why he’d banged directly into her chin.

  “You look nice,” he said, an understatement.

  “Thank you.” She frowned slightly. “Are you sure we can pull this off? It’s kind of hard to pretend we’ve been dating when we really don’t know anything about each other.”

  “We can exchange bios during the drive. If we say we’ve only recently started dating, they won’t expect us to know everything about each other.”

  “Well, that much is the truth, anyway.” She grabbed her evening bag and keys. “It should be an adventure.”

  “You think so?”

  She nodded. “And adventure is my middle name.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking, then her eyes twinkled mischievously, and he found that appealing. He tended to date serious women—

  Whoa. Wait. This wasn’t a date date. This was a please-rescue-me date. No kiss good-night at the door. No how-long-should-I-wait-to-call-her? dilemma. He’d see her at work in the morning, thank her again for her favor, then it would be business as usual.

  It was a good plan, a solid plan. He liked plans.

  “When will we break up?” Sara Beth asked as they walked to his car.

  “When you’re fed up with my lack of attention.” As usual. The most common complaint he heard from women as they exited his life was, “You forgot I existed.”

  He didn’t mean to. It just happened. He put most of his energies into his research. He had a good reason to find a solution to male infertility issues soon. A very good reason.

  Yes, he wanted to help mankind, but he particularly wanted to help one man. Until then, Ted had given up his goal to be more social for a personal vow instead, a promise to devote his time and energy to the cause, putting his personal life on hold until he’d accomplished his goal.

  Even though he felt ready—more than ready—to marry and have children, he would delay it. He couldn’t give his time to anything else but his research, nor ask a woman to sacrifice time with him so that he could reach his personal goal.