The Christmas Baby Bump. Lynne Marshall

Just try to have a good time. Do something out of the ordinary. Start living again.

      A figure blocked the exam-room doorway, casting a shadow over the mirror. “You mind telling me what happened last night?” Phil’s words were brusque without a hint of yesterday’s charm.

      Adrenaline surged through her, and she went on the defensive. “I don’t do kids.” She turned slowly to hide her nerves, and grabbed a paper towel. “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you.”

      “How hard is it to console a crying kid?”

      Stephanie held up her hand and looked at Phil’s chin rather than into his eyes. “Harder than you could ever understand.” She tossed the paper towel into the trash bin and walked around him toward her office. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before she closed the door.

      Phil scraped his jaw as he walked to his office. What in the hell was her problem? Last night, he’d found her practically huddled in the corner as if in a cage with a lion. It had taken half an hour to console Robbie. A bowl of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles had finally done the trick. Colorful sprinkles, as Robbie called them. For some dumb reason, Phil got a kick out of that.

      What was up with Stephanie Bennett?

      He didn’t have time to figure out the new doctor when he had more pressing things to do. Like make a schedule! He’d put so much energy into distracting Robbie last night, horsing around with him and watching TV, that he’d lost track of time, forgotten to bathe him and missed his usual bedtime medicine. A kid could survive a day without a bath, right?

      His beeper went off. He checked the number. It was the preschool. Hell, what had he forgotten now?

      

      Stephanie arrived at work extra-early again the next morning, surprised to see someone had already made coffee in the clinic kitchen. She was about to pour herself a cup and sneak back to her office when Phil swept into the room. Her shoulders tensed as she hoped he didn’t hold a grudge. Wishing she could disappear, she stayed on task.

      “Good morning,” he said, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed, hair left however it had dried after his shower.

      “Hi,” she said. She didn’t want to spend the next two months avoiding one of the clinic partners. Phil had been very nice at first, it seemed to come naturally to him, and, well, she needed him to forgive her. “Look, I’m sorry about the other night.”

      “Forget about it. Like you said, I didn’t leave you much choice.” He scrubbed his face as if trying to wake up. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with kids.” He glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes, but he left all his questions unspoken.

      She had no intention of opening up to him, and hoped he’d let things lie. Maybe if she changed the topic?

      She lifted the pot. “Can I pour you a cup, too?”

      “Definitely. Robbie kept me up half the night with his coughing.”

      “Anything wrong?” She leaned against the counter.

      “No virus. Just an annoying cough. He’s had it since he was a baby.” He accepted the proffered mug and took a quick swig. “Ahh.”

      “So what do you think it is, then?” Discussing medicine was always easy…and safe.

      “I’ve been wondering if he might have tracheobronchomalacia, but Roma, his mom, doesn’t want him put through a bunch of tests to find out.”

      “Is that your wife?”

      He laughed. “No, my stepmother. Robbie’s my half brother.”

      “Ahh.” She’d heard the scuttlebutt about him being quite the playboy, and she couldn’t tolerate a married guy flirting with the help.

      A smile crossed his face. “Did you think he was my kid?”

      She shrugged. What else was she supposed to think?

      “I’m just watching Robbie while my dad and Roma are in Maui.” He stared at his coffee mug and ran his hand over his hair, deep in thought. “Yeah, so I want to do a bronchoscopy, but Roma is taking some persuading.”

      “You think like a typical pulmonologist,” she said, spooning some sugar into her coffee. “Always the worst-case scenario.”

      “And you don’t assume the worst for your patients?”

      She shook her head. “I’m an obstetrician, remember? Good stuff.” Except in her personal life.

      “You’ve got a point. But I’m not imagining this. He gets recurrent chest infections, he’s got a single-note wheeze, and at night he has this constant stridorous cough. I’ve just never had to sleep with him before.”

      “You’re sleeping with him?” The thought of the gorgeous guy with the sexy reputation sleeping with his little brother almost brought a smile to her lips.

      “Yeah, well…” Did Phil look sheepish? “He was in a new house and a strange bed. You know the drill.”

      She couldn’t hide her smile any longer. “That’s very sweet.”

      He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter, a more macho pose. “More like survival. The kid cried until I promised to sleep with him.”

      Heat worked up her neck. “That was probably my fault.”

      He looked at her, and their eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was a real human being behind that ruggedly handsome face. Perhaps someone worth knowing.

      “Let’s drop it. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened,” he said.

      Maybe she shouldn’t try so hard to avoid him. Maybe he was a great guy she could enjoy. But insecurity, like well-worn shoes you just couldn’t part with, kept her from giving him a second thought.

      “It’s not asthma,” he said, breaking her concentration. “If I knew for sure what it was, I could treat it. He may grow out of it, but he’s suffering right now. You think I look tired, you should see him. The thing is, he might only need something as simple as extra oxygen or, if necessary, CPAP.” He rubbed his chin.

      All the talk about Robbie’s respiratory condition made her worry about him. Especially after she’d made the poor little guy cry until he was hoarse the other night. She sipped her coffee. “Is there any less invasive procedure that can give the same diagnosis?” Keeping things technical made it easier to talk about the boy.

      “Bronchography, but he’s allergic to iodine, and I wouldn’t want to expose him to the radiation at this age. And all I’d have to do is sedate him and slip a scope in his lungs to check things out. Five minutes, tops. I’ll see how things go.”

      “So where is he?”

      “He’s in day care with his new best friend, Claire’s daughter. Thankfully she took pity on me and chauffeured him today.”

      No sooner had he said it than Claire breezed through the door. The tall, slender, honey blonde had a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s called carpooling.”

      “Ah, right.” Phil said, then glanced at Stephanie. “Learning curve.”

      “Morning,” Claire said.

      Stephanie nodded. She’d met the clinic nurse practitioner the other day in a bright, welcoming office that came complete with aromatherapy and candles. She was Jason’s wife, and seemed nice enough, but Stephanie hadn’t let herself warm to anyone yet.

      “So, Robbie didn’t want to go with his group after driving to the preschool with Gina talking his ear off,” Claire said. “Gina’s my daughter,” she said for Stephanie’s benefit. “He looks so cute in his glasses. When did he get them?”

      Phil grinned. “Beats me, but I found them in his things, so I talked him into wearing them.”

      “See,