A Baby for the Doctor. Jacqueline Diamond

to use the ride to talk to him. Maybe instead she’d drop her bomb as they parted company at the apartments. Good idea. Not exactly primo revenge, but a satisfying poke all the same.

      “I can’t wait,” she said.

      * * *

      “HAVE YOU HEARD the story about Rod’s kids?” That seemed a good place to start, Jack decided as he adjusted the passenger seat to accommodate his long legs.

      Backing out of her parking space, Anya frowned. “I didn’t know he had any.”

      Better cut this story short. They only lived a five-minute drive away. “Two daughters. Or so he thought.”

      “What do you mean?” The pucker between her eyebrows was adorable.

      Jack took a moment to organize his thoughts. As they left the garage, he noted only a few cars in the circular drive. Traffic dropped off rapidly in the evening because there was no emergency care aside from labor and delivery at Safe Harbor. Five years ago, the former community hospital had been remodeled to specialize in fertility and maternity treatments, along with a range of gynecological and child services. Most recently it had expanded into treating male infertility, too.

      On the opposite side of the compound stood a now-empty dental office building. Someday, with luck, the hospital would acquire it for additional office space. Then Jack could treat patients at more convenient hours.

      He resumed his tale. “When my aunt Portia demanded a divorce and my uncle sought joint custody, she revealed that she’d cheated on him.” Jack would never forget the heartbreak on Rod’s face as he’d shared that discovery. “Neither of the girls was genetically his.”

      “How awful.” She turned the car onto Hospital Way.

      “It was a mess.” Jack had been living in Nashville, Tennessee, at the time, completing medical school at Vanderbilt University. However, he’d spent most of his holidays with his aunt and uncle.

      Technically Tiffany and Amber were his cousins, but he’d always thought of them as nieces. He’d loved playing with them and watching them grow into toddlers and preschoolers. Then they’d been yanked out of his life, leaving a painful void for him, too.

      “Your aunt married the girls’ father?” Anya tapped the brake at a red light on Safe Harbor Boulevard. The broad avenue bisected the town from the freeway to the harbor that gave the community its name.

      “He was long gone, but she found someone else, a rich guy unable to have kids of his own who wanted to adopt hers. They pulled one legal maneuver after another to keep the kids from Rod.” Jack still burned at the memory. “Rod was supporting the girls financially, and he went into debt fighting for them in court. If he’d been their genetic father, he’d have stood a chance, but as it was, he lost all rights.” And was living in a small apartment and driving an unreliable car as a result.

      “What an ordeal.” When the light changed, Anya transitioned onto the boulevard, passing a darkened veterinary clinic and a flower shop that supplied the hospital gift boutique.

      “We haven’t seen the girls for six years. Then, this evening, Rod got a call from my older niece, Tiffany. She ran away from her home in San Diego and asked him to pick her up at the Fullerton train station.” That was about a two-hour journey from San Diego.

      Anya swung onto a side street. “How old is she?”

      “Twelve.” He only had a few photos of Tiff from years ago, a little girl with Orphan Annie red hair and a big smile. “It’s hard to visualize what she must look like now.”

      “Twelve is awfully young. Why’d she run away?”

      “No idea.” His phone rang. Plucking it from his pocket, Jack saw his uncle’s name on the screen. “Hey.”

      “Change of plans. I’m taking Tiffany to her grandmother’s house.” Rod must be speaking into his wireless device because it was illegal in California to hold a cell phone while driving. “Less risk of legal complications that way. Can you meet us there? You remember where Helen lives?”

      “Vaguely.” Portia’s mother had joined the family for holiday celebrations and had once hosted a Fourth of July party at her bungalow. Jack recalled Helen as a kind, quiet woman overshadowed by her forceful daughter.

      A girl’s voice piped up in the background. “Is that Uncle Jack? Hi, Uncle Jack!”

      “Hi, pumpkin.”

      “Hi to you too, squash-kins,” his uncle said drily. “I mean, as long as we’re using vegetables as terms of endearment.”

      “Very funny. What’s the address?”

      Rod provided it. Jack’s phone showed it to be in the northwest corner of Safe Harbor near the freeway. “Anya, I have another favor to ask.”

      “Anya’s driving you home?” His uncle sounded peevish.

      “Who’s Anya?” Tiffany piped in. “Can I meet her?”

      “End of conversation,” Jack said and clicked off. This was far too confusing, and, besides, he needed to focus on winning Anya’s cooperation. “How about lending me your car after I drop you at home?”

      “How far away is this?” she asked.

      “Just a few miles.” The alternative was to call a cab, which meant waiting heaven knows how long. In Southern California, where private vehicles outnumbered people, taxi drivers concentrated their efforts on servicing airports and hotels.

      And he didn’t have the time to waste. No doubt Helen was already dialing her daughter. Portia and her husband, a private equity investor reported to be worth close to a billion dollars, would take a private plane or helicopter to collect the runaway, which left only a window of an hour or so for Jack to connect with her.

      Anya hadn’t spoken again. “I don’t want to lose this chance to see Tiffany.” The ragged emotion in his tone surprised Jack. “It’s important she understands that she’s welcome here and that we love her. I’m afraid that next time, if there’s a next time, she might go off on her own.”

      The fate of young runaways in metropolitan areas had been the subject of a recent lecture at the hospital. Staff pediatrician Samantha Forrest had presented a horrifying picture of predators trolling for young girls and boys who’d landed on the streets.

      Now that he thought about it, he’d seen Anya at the lecture, too. Surely she understood his concern.

      She appeared to be mulling the request as they reached their complex—a half-dozen two-story apartment buildings separated by tree-shaded walkways. In the carport area, Anya halted, her expression shadowed in the thin lighting.

      “I’d like to meet her,” she said.

      “Not a good idea.” This was private family business.

      “She might talk more freely to a woman than to a couple of guys,” Anya said.

      “Her grandmother’s there.”

      “I wouldn’t discuss anything personal or uncomfortable around my grandmother,” she replied. “Jack, I remember what my sisters were like at that age. You and your uncle are great guys, and I’m sure her grandmother loves this girl like crazy, but it’s important right now that she be able to open up. What can it hurt to have me there?”

      Anya did have a point. And he had to admire her willingness to step into such a delicate situation. Jack glanced at her profile: shapely nose, full mouth, firm chin. He needed her help and, besides, he wanted to spend more time with her. Why not seize the opportunity?

      “Thanks. I’ll navigate, okay?” he said and relaxed as he saw her nod.

      They were on the same page for once. That was a nice change.

      Chapter Three

      Spotting