Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell (2 page)

Not liking Darby's assessment, Mr. Hill turned to Blake for another opinion. “Doc?”

“Admitting you to the hospital is what I was thinking, too, but you kept insisting you were better. Since I hadn't seen the way the area originally looked, I gave you the benefit of doubt.” Blake raised a brow at Mr. Hill, who had the grace to blush. “Obviously you over-exaggerated.”

Darby removed her gloves and tossed them into the appropriate disposal bin. She wrapped her arm around the older man and gave him a hug. “Obviously.”

“It's not that bad,” he insisted, giving Darby's hand a pat. “Definitely not bad enough to go to the hospital.”

“You know I try to listen to my patients, Mr. Hill, and to take earnest consideration of their desires, but your leg is serious enough to warrant a hospital admission.”
Stepping back slightly, she took his hand into hers. “If the infection doesn't clear you could lose your foot. Do you understand? That isn't something I take lightly. Neither should you.”

That got the older man's attention. She hadn't been meaning to scare him, but his ulceration was a big deal, and truly could result in amputation in someone with his poor circulation and diabetes. She spoke with him a few more minutes while Blake wrote admission orders to give to the man's daughter, who was waiting in the reception area.

Blake stuck the orders inside an envelope. “You give these to the lady at the admission desk. She'll register you.”

They saw him out and spoke with his daughter, letting her know what was going on and stressing that even if her father changed his mind about going to the hospital, he really did need to go. When she'd brought the car around they saw him into the passenger seat, then made their way back toward the office.

“Do you want me to look in on him this evening and do the admission history and the physical?” Blake held the front door open for her to enter ahead of him. “Technically, I was the one to see him today.”

“If it's all the same, I'll do the H and P when I check on Evie Mayo.”

“Is she any better?”

Darby shook her head. “Unfortunately no. Her liver enzymes are through the roof and I can't find a reason why. Her hepatic ultrasound and her CT scan were both essentially normal. Only fatty streaks showed.”

“Hepatitis profile okay?”

“All normal.”

“You want me to take a look at her? See if I can come up with anything?”

Darby shrugged. “If you'd like. Maybe I'm missing something.”

“I doubt that,” he assured her, lightly punching her shoulder in a move her older brothers had often done when she'd been growing up. How long had it been since she'd seen Jim, John, Jerry and Ralph? Too long, since she'd opted to work last Christmas instead of making the six-hour drive to Armadillo Lake. She'd meant to go, but after Blake's mother had canceled plans last-minute to come to Knoxville for the holidays Darby hadn't been able to bear the thought of him alone at Christmas.

“But it never hurts to have a fresh eye give a second opinion,” he continued. “Speaking of second opinions, what do I need to pack for this weekend?”

Dread filled her stomach. Was she really going to subject Blake to her humiliating high school experiences?

Of course, she was. Because she wasn't that shy, geeky girl who'd rather have had her nose stuck in a book than in a fashion magazine. She was a successful doctor with a fabulous life.

Okay, so she didn't have a real boyfriend, and was bringing her business partner instead, but no one had to know that the scrumptious man with her wasn't madly in love with her.

Her gaze landed on Blake. He
was
scrumptious to look at—the classic tall, dark and handsome—and she was half in lust with him, so that had to count for something, right?

No one would accuse her of being a virgin when she had a virile man like Blake making googly eyes at her.
Which should be enough to ease the bile burning her throat, yet wasn't.

Why wasn't she eagerly anticipating the chance to prove to Armadillo Lake just how wrong they'd been about her? Surely she wasn't still intimidated by her classmates? By Mandy?

No way.

Or maybe she
was
intimidated, because at times she wondered if they'd been right about her. After all, she was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin. By choice, but still a virgin.

Maybe her nervousness stemmed from the man before her. Had she really asked Blake to pretend to be in love with her? To spend the weekend with her, share a hotel room with her?

“Saturday afternoon is a picnic at the town park, so something casual for that. The reunion itself is being held at the Armadillo Lake Lodge's ballroom and will be dressy. Not tuxedo formal, but you'll need a suit.” She raked her gaze over him, imagining him at the party. He'd look good in a tux, but that would definitely be overkill. A tux would scream “trying too hard”. She wanted their relationship to look real, not make-believe.

She wanted their relationship to be real, not make-believe.

She bit back a sigh. Their relationship
was
real. They had a great business relationship, were ideal partners. Anything beyond that would only make life complicated, because if she and Blake ever became involved that way she'd end up hurt and losing everything. But what if…?

“Picnic and dressy.” Winking, he shot her with his finger. “Gotcha.”

Fighting to look as if her mind wasn't racing in
unwanted directions, she lifted her shoulders. “Wear that blue button-down you bought for the hospital Christmas party last year. I like how that looks on you.”

His brow quirked. “Tell me, which part do you like?”

Darby winced. Had she really just said that she liked how his shirt fit him?

“The part that covers you up,” she quipped, stepping into the back hallway leading to their private offices. No way would she admit to liking how the material emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

“Now, now,” he chided, “that's not how you should be talking to the man you're madly in love with.”

Certain her heart throbbed in her throat, despite knowing such a feat was physically impossible, Darby froze, rounded on him. “I'm not madly in love with you.”

She might have feelings for Blake, but she didn't do love. At the young age of sweet sixteen she'd learned that love hurt way too much, and credited herself with being intelligent enough not to make the same mistake twice.

“Oh?” His brow lifted again, high enough that a lock of his inky hair hid the top of the arch. “Is this a one-sided love affair, then? I'm insane for you, but you're immune to my charms?” His lips twitched. “Or are you just using me for phenomenal sex?”

Trying not to think of phenomenal sex and Blake in the same context, Darby gulped. “You're crazy.”

Perhaps she was crazy, too. Otherwise why would she have asked him to go to Armadillo Lake? Even forgetting how she'd deal with spending a weekend in a hotel room with him, he'd tease her mercilessly over the things he'd learn about the old Darby. She'd never live down the jokes, the puns.

“We really should get our story straight before this weekend.” He took her elbow, led her into her office, pausing only long enough to caress the heart model as they passed by the shelf. “Maybe we should practice.”

“Practice?” Darby's ears roared. Her heart thudded, pounding wildly against her ribcage and threatening to once again leap into her throat. Her gaze dropped to his lips and the desire to practice hit so hard she thought she might faint.

Then the most brilliant idea hit her. One in which she'd risk everything—but some risks were worth taking.

“D
O YOU
even like the people you went to school with?” Blake stuck a French fry in his mouth. Although he usually ate healthily, French fries were his Achilles' heel. The hotter and saltier the better. Thanks to the hospital cafeteria ladies knowing his vice, they always put on a fresh batch just for him.

“Of course I like them,” Darby insisted, but color rose in her cheeks. “I went to high school with them.”

“Doesn't mean you like them.” He stuck another fry in his mouth, assuring himself the five miles he ran each morning would clear out the excessive cholesterol. “I've never heard you mention anyone you went to school with.”

“That doesn't mean I don't like them. I had some good friends back in school.”

“So good that you're bringing a fake date to impress them?”

She didn't meet his eyes, took a sip of her water. “You
should be flattered, since you get to be the impressive fake date.”

“There is that,” he mused, studying her, trying to get a feel for whatever it was she was hiding.

And Darby
was
hiding something.

He couldn't put his finger on what, but something had her buzzing about the prospect of returning to Armadillo Lake.

“Tell me about your hometown.”

Her face pinched into a scowl. “Not much to tell.”

Right.

“I'm going to your reunion this weekend. Don't you think I should know a little about your past?”

“Not really.” Her nose curled, as if she'd taken a sniff of something vile. “We've known each other for what—four years? What you don't already know, you don't need to know.”

“I disagree.” What did he know about her past? Not much. Just that she'd grown up in a small town in Alabama, gone to medical school in Knoxville, on full scholarship, and had decided to stay in Tennessee after he'd jokingly suggested opening a practice together. Surprisingly, since he hadn't made up his mind on where he'd end up, when Darby had said yes, he'd known practicing with her was exactly what he wanted to do. Not once had he regretted that decision, and for the first time since his grandfather's death he had roots.

“Oh?” She might have meant the word to be nonchalant, but the slight squeak gave away her anxiety.

A good person might have let the subject go, not put her on the spot, but Blake had never claimed to be good. Not in that sense, at any rate.

He zeroed in on the one name she'd let slip on the day the invitation had arrived. “I want to know more about Mandy Coulson.”

Darby sighed, rolling her eyes toward the hospital cafeteria's ceiling. “You
would
want to know more about her, wouldn't you?”

He shrugged. “She's the only non-related person from your hometown I've ever heard you mention by name.”

Her eyes flashed blue fire and her chin lifted. “Trey Nix.”

Blake paused, fry midway to his mouth, dangling from his fingers. Trey Nix? “Who's he?”

Why did he instantly dislike him?

Face full-bloom pink, Darby pretended fascination with her chicken salad, raking her fork through the half-eaten entree. “No one.”

Clearly she regretted having mentioned the name.

“No one?” He wasn't buying that. “Then why bring him up?”

“You insisted upon another name, and I knew you wouldn't quit until I gave you one.”

“And Trey Nix—” what kind of name was Trey Nix, anyway? “—was the person who popped into your head?”

“It's just a name.”

Uh-huh.

“Interesting.”

Her gaze lifted to his. “What's so interesting?”

“That you mention a sworn enemy and then a guy.” Pink blotches spread across her throat and Blake's suspicions rose. “Were you in a love triangle with Mandy and what's-his-name?”

“A
love triangle
?” She laughed. “You're crazy.”

But the half-strangled way she said the words hinted that he'd hit the nail over the head.

“Besides I never said Mandy was my sworn enemy.”

“No?” Good thing Darby had wanted to go into medicine and not acting. Not even the most gullible bloke would buy the bull she was attempting to feed him. Not liking how his fries weighed heavily in his stomach, he waited until her gaze met his. “Who was she?”

Better still, who was Trey Nix, and what had he meant to Darby?

Setting her fork next to her plate, she arranged the utensil on the tray. “For the first fifteen years of my life Mandy was my best friend.”

Best friend? Now, there was a twist Blake hadn't seen coming.

The cafeteria wasn't crowded, or particularly noisy, but he had to strain to hear her next words.

“But that was before.”

“Before what?”

She shook her head. “Let's change the subject. I've had enough of the past for one night, and no amount of poking or prodding from you is going to get me to say more, so let it go.”

She dug into her salad with gusto. She'd been playing with her food all evening. He doubted she was even hungry. But apparently she didn't want to talk about Mandy and was sending a loud message for him to back off.

Her tone had switched to Darby bossy. The tone she used when he'd pushed as far as she would allow him to push.

Fine—he'd let the topic of Mandy go. For now.

“At least tell me what you expect of me this weekend.”

She paused mid-bite. Startled eyes lifted to his. “What do you mean? I told you what I expected. Just pretend you're madly in love with me—as if I'm the greatest thing that's ever happened to you and you can't live without me.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, taking measure of the panic in her eyes and wondering at his own rising panic at her words. “I can do that.”

In many ways, meeting Darby
was
the best thing to ever happen to him.

“How long have we been dating?”

She blinked at him, as if he'd spoken in an alien tongue. “Pardon?”

“There are things inquiring minds will want to know. Questions that are usually asked when a person sees someone they haven't seen in a while.” He gave her a pointed look. “How long have we been dating?”

“The simpler we make this, the better.” Glancing down at her plate, Darby stared at her food. “We'll say we've known each other for years, but only recently became romantically involved. Let's stick to the truth as much as possible.”

Why was she so nervous? Because she was going to see the man from her past she'd mentioned? What did it matter to Blake? He should be happy if she reconnected with some long-lost love.

Was
Nix a long-lost love?

Blake's fries threatened to stage an uprising. “The truth works for me.”

“Except that you're in love with me,” she pointed out.

His irrational reaction to the idea of Darby having a long-lost love irritated Blake. “I got that.”

Her gaze dropping to her plate, she nodded. “I just wanted to be clear.”

“As crystal.”

Her cellphone rang. She pulled out the phone and looked at the number. Grimacing, she shoved the phone into her pocket.

“Who was that?”

“Rodney.”

Her ex? Why was he calling? “You didn't change your mind about getting back with him?”

He hoped not. Really hoped not.

He didn't like the idea of Darby with Rodney. She was way too good for the guy. Plus, crazy as it was, he wanted to go with her this weekend, wanted to meet Mandy. And maybe even Trey Nix, just so he could figure out what Darby's relationship had been with the man—although he had a pretty good idea.

An idea he didn't like any better than the idea of Rodney.

“No,” she sighed, looking tired, as if this trip home weighed heavily upon her mind.

He knew she hadn't gone home last Christmas, but she had made the trip when her niece was born. During the four years he'd known her she'd gone home a few times a year, but never for more than a night.

“Part of me wonders if I should beg him to take me back rather than bring you to my hometown.”

No, she shouldn't bring Rodney with her. Blake wanted to meet her family, see where she'd grown up, figure out what it was about her hometown that made a woman he admired for her confidence so unsure of herself.

Darby was his partner and she needed his help. More
than she even realized. Whatever her issues were with her hometown, he'd help her. He owed her that for keeping him on task throughout his residency and the beginning of his medical career.

“I can behave myself. Even in a place named Armadillo Lake.” He chuckled, letting the name roll off his tongue. “Sounds like a fun place to grow up. Is there really a lake?”

“Yes.”

“And armadillos?”

“Yes.”

“Your school team were the Armadillos?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes.”

“Let me guess—your school mascot was a giant armadillo?”

Gaze lowered to her plate, Darby nodded.

“Bet that went over great at football games.” He chuckled. “An armadillo.”

Darby had grown still. She looked as if she were praying he wouldn't put two and two together. Where Darby was concerned Blake always put two and two together. He grinned.

“You were the mascot, weren't you?”

 

The next morning Darby had barely climbed out of her car before Blake fell into step beside her in the clinic's employee parking lot. “I checked on Mr. Hill this morning. He's insisting on going home, and he's only been there one night.”

She ignored him, just as she'd been ignoring him since he'd burst out laughing at her admission she'd once worn an armadillo suit to all major school sport events.

Not a cute little armadillo suit that showed off her legs—if such a suit even existed. No, she'd been in a full-bodied,
hot-as-Hades, head-to-toe vinyl Armadillo suit that looked like something straight off a cheap Godzilla movie. And all to impress a guy—to prove that she was more than a brainy girl, that she had a sense of humor and could be fun. What had she been thinking?

“He's giving the nurses a hard time.” With his usual persistence, Blake continued, following her down the clinic's hallway toward their offices. “The night nurse said he pulled out his IV line. She put the line back in, and threatened to strap his hands to the bedrails if he pulls it out again.”

Darby already knew all this. She'd visited Mr. Hill, too. Blake had beaten her to the hospital, thanks to her sleeping late, but she had checked on her two patients this morning.

No wonder she'd overslept. Most of the night she'd lain in bed having nightmares about the upcoming weekend. Nightmares in which she'd shown up at the reunion not decked out to the nines as planned, in the new killer dress she'd bought, but wearing that awful armadillo suit. Trey hadn't been the one laughing at her. Blake had been the one shaking his head, pointing his finger, not understanding her desire to fit in. Not understanding how she desperately wanted him to notice that she was alive. The truth, she'd realized, was that this weekend was more about
him
than her class reunion.

She'd awakened in a cold sweat, certain she'd made a grave miscalculation—that thinking she could make Blake notice her as a woman was as foolish as wearing that armadillo suit had been.

Despite having sent in her RSVP, she didn't have to go. Most likely no one would even notice if she was there or not.

No, that wasn't true.

Mandy would know. Wasn't that why she'd sent Darby's invitation late?

If she didn't go, she was saying that she was okay with her and Blake's relationship never being more than what it was. And, although what they had was wonderful, Darby wanted more.

She was going.

Not only was she going, but she was going to have fun.

And in the process of making Blake notice her she'd make Trey eat his heart out because he'd chosen the head cheerleader over the geeky, too-smart-to-be-understood school mascot.
What had he been thinking?

She'd risen beyond her high school experiences and was a desirable woman who held the power over her life. Wasn't that what her wannabe-shrink roommate during her first four years at university had said—making Darby repeat the phrase while looking in the mirror each morning, insisting Darby go for formal self-confidence-boosting therapy?

She was in charge of her life. Dr. Darby Phillips, a woman worthy of respect and admiration. A woman who'd come a long way from wearing a dumpy armadillo suit and longing for a man she couldn't have.

Her gaze fell on the man keeping stride next to her.

Well, no one could accuse her classy navy pants and cream-colored blouse of looking like a scaly animal, at any rate.

“Ah, come on, Dilly, surely you aren't still mad at me?”

Why had she told him the mascot's name?

Blake being Blake, of
course
he'd tease her, call her by that name. She spun to where he'd followed her into her office.

Knocking his hand away from her plastic heart model, she straightened to her full five feet three inches and poked his thick chest. “Don't you ever make fun of my having been an armadillo again—do you hear?”

His eyes widened slightly at her outburst, but a smile curved his full lips. “Ah, Darby, come on. I'm sure you were a cute armadillo.”

She glared. He was supposed to be groveling, shaking in fear, apologizing, not still laughing.

“Too bad I didn't go to your school.” He tweaked her chin, his fingers sending shivers over her flesh. “I'd like to have seen you in that costume. Maybe you could wear it for me this weekend? I promise to show my school spirit.”

Couldn't he be serious? Or at least pretend as if he felt threatened? Of course he couldn't. Blake was one of those annoying perpetually positive folks. As much as that did annoy her at times like these, his disposition was also one of the things she liked most about him. One of the things that had always drawn her to him.