Expecting The Doctor's Baby. Teresa Southwick

came to mind. Since she’d just seen her father, all that stuff came out of her mouth.

      Mitch’s fork clattered on the plate and he stared at her. “I’m waiting for the part where you told the arrogant ass to take a flying leap. And I mean Arnie, not the ex.”

      “You’d be waiting for a long time.” She sighed.

      “You didn’t say anything.”

      How could she explain this to a man who was so straightforward he said what was on his mind and let the chips fall anywhere? “My father isn’t perfect.”

      “You can say that again.” He stared at her. “It seems to me you dodged a bullet with the ex and father jerk should be doing the dance of joy instead of calling you on the carpet.”

      Her heart did a fluttery, pounding thing in her chest. He barely knew her, yet he was on her side. It was new; it was nice. But Mitch was reacting to what she’d told him in anger. It wasn’t the whole truth.

      “Arnold Ryan is the only father I’ve ever known. He adopted me and, after my mother died, he raised me with his own children. I don’t know what I’d have done without him. He’s my family and he’s been good to me.”

      “Define good to you. Because from where I’m sitting putting down your profession and ordering you to apologize to a cheater who doesn’t deserve you doesn’t sound like good.”

      “When you put it like that, it sounds—”

      “Way wrong?”

      Yes, but she wouldn’t admit that. “My father said what he did because he wants what’s best for me,” she explained.

      “Put-downs, recriminations and bad advice?” Mitch met her gaze. “How’s that working for you?”

      When he said it like that, not so well. It made her a hypocrite who coached others to confront conflict in a productive way when she couldn’t follow the same advice. It made her a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do kind of person.

      It made her a doormat. A man like Mitch had no use for a doormat. There was no reason on earth she should care whether or not he had a use for her, but she did.

      

      “Mitch? Are you paying attention?”

      He looked up from the doodles on his legal pad and found his partners’ attention fixed on him. Dr. Jake Andrews and Dr. Cal Westen were his best friends. The three of them had done their residency in trauma medicine at the county hospital in Las Vegas. Rumor had it they were known as the axis of attraction as well as the trifecta of heart trauma.

      After completing training, they decided to open the group and contract with Mercy Medical Center to provide trauma specialists for the E.R. In this small office they had a clerical staff for billing and conducted monthly status meetings. This was one of those and his presence had been mandatory, but no one had said anything about paying attention.

      “Sorry. My mind was wandering.” He’d been distracted by a pair of brown eyes that were several units low on optimism.

      “Listen up.” Six-foot-tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed Jake had taken on the business side of the practice and fell into the role of leader. “You’re on the agenda.”

      “Oh?”

      “Don’t play dumb.” Cal folded his arms on the table. His sandy hair and blue eyes gave him a boyish look. It attracted women in droves, the ones who didn’t know about or were misguided enough to believe they could change his love-’ em-and-leave-’em style. “You got the memo about today’s topics. You’re on it.”

      “Okay. Let’s go.”

      Cal held up his hand. “This isn’t a barroom brawl we’re taking into the alley. It’s a medical practice.”

      “What’s your point?” Mitch asked.

      “I’ll get to it. When it’s time.”

      “I think it’s time now.” Mitch sat up straight and looked across the mahogany table at his partners. This felt a lot like an ambush.

      Jake met his gaze for several moments, then finally nodded. “No reason we can’t take it out of order. Let’s talk about what’s going on with you.”

      “I’m doing great.”

      “I meant the mandated counseling,” Jake clarified.

      “About that,” Mitch said. “Can we discuss why you guys threw me under the bus and jumped in bed with that HR guy at the hospital?”

      “Yeah,” Cal said. “We can start with why you reprimanded a nurse simply for doing her job.”

      “If that were the case,” Mitch said, “I probably wouldn’t have said anything.”

      “You got on her case for not hanging an IV fast enough,” Cal said. “Her complaint states that the E.R. was nuts and she was following her training to triage doctor’s orders.”

      “The problem was it never got done and someone who came in for help fell through the cracks,” Mitch defended. “I don’t write orders unless they’re important and if I write it, I want it done.”

      “The incident is under review with the E.R. director and human resources. If she files a grievance with the union, in addition to patient complaints about your abusive attitude, there will be hell to pay.”

      “That’s part of my specialty,” Mitch said.

      He’d shaken hands with the devil more than once. It held no fear for him.

      Cal shook his head in exasperation. “That’s just one of a laundry list from the hospital staff. Now let’s talk about how you told off a doctor.”

      Mitch remembered the incident. The guy blew off his patient’s symptoms during an office appointment forcing an E.R. visit that made the situation more traumatic than it should have been. “He didn’t do his job.”

      “It’s not your job to make that judgment—especially in front of the patient.” Jake’s voice was lower than normal, meaning he was ticked off. “There are numerous ways to handle something like that.”

      Sam had said something similar. He liked it better coming from her. “I didn’t think it could wait.”

      “The bottom line is that you didn’t think,” Jake snapped. “This guy is threatening to go to the medical executive committee. If he pushes for a peer review we could be in a world of hurt.”

      “If it goes that far I’ll get to tell my side. There won’t be a problem,” Mitch soothed.

      “Look, Mitch,” Cal said, his tone conciliatory, “we just have to do damage control. Your counseling is part of it. You need to be tolerant—”

      “Not happening. I never understand losing a patient.” Mitch had seen too much of stupidity, indifference and playing the game. Too much life thrown away. He’d had it up to here with keeping his mouth shut. “I call that a waste.”

      “We all feel that way,” Jake said. “But Mercy Medical is expanding. They’re getting ready to break ground on a new campus with a level-two trauma center. Our contract is up soon. We need to renegotiate and we’re talking a lot of money. This is the worst possible time for an incident. You have to demonstrate a willingness to learn how to play nice with others.”

      The only person he’d met that he wanted to play nice with was Sam Ryan, and she’d refused to play at all.

      “How’s the relationship counseling going?” Cal asked, a little too close to the mark.

      “I think it’s a waste of time.”

      “Good attitude,” Jake said.

      Mitch shrugged. “I’m not in to that touchy/feely stuff.”

      “Your style is more shoot-from-the-hip,”