Diagnosis: Expecting Boss's Baby. Jacqueline Diamond

the modest homes and apartments.

      Along the sidewalks clattered kids on tricycles and preteens on skateboards. Patrick drove cautiously, remembering from his emergency-room rotations what could happen when children darted into the street.

      The fourplex where Natalie lived lay in the middle of a block. Patrick had dropped her off once when her car was in the shop, and he’d never forgotten the location.

      A rental van stood double-parked in front of the building. As he swung past, he saw stacks of furniture through the open rear door, from which someone had lowered a ramp. Obviously these amateurs didn’t realize or perhaps didn’t care that they were blocking several cars.

      At the next corner, Patrick made a U-turn and swung back. This time, he spotted Natalie’s small green hatchback at the curb, hemmed in by the truck.

      What now? He had time to kill and a strong desire to see her. Irresolutely, he parked across the street and sat considering his options.

      Before he could decide how to proceed, Natalie emerged on the upper balcony of the apartment building. With her blond hair floating in the breeze, she took his breath away.

      Even from here, he could see the sweet fullness of her mouth and the way a T-shirt clung tantalizingly to her rounded breasts as she descended the exterior stairs. His body reacted with a jolt of arousal.

      Natalie was halfway to her car when she stopped to glare at the truck. It looked as if she was saying, “What the heck?”

      He got out and strode across the street. “Looks like you’ve got a problem.”

      She blinked up at him. “Patrick?”

      “I was driving by.” That sounded unlikely, didn’t it? “I was on my way to being early,” he explained, and decided that was even worse. “Never mind why I’m here. Need some help?”

      “I’m going to visit Amy Ravenna. I’d like to know what idiots left this here,” she said, then answered her own question. “They must be moving into the ground-floor apartment. The tenants moved out last week.”

      He followed her to the unit. The door stood open, a few items of furniture visible inside. A preteen girl and a little boy sat watching cartoons on a television placed on the floor.

      “Hi! I’m Natalie,” she said. “We need for somebody to move the truck. Where are your parents?”

      “They went to get lunch,” the girl said.

      “And left you alone?” Patrick asked.

      “I’m twelve.” She kept her gaze fixed on the screen.

      “When will they be back?” Natalie asked.

      “I don’t know.”

      The two of them retreated. “Are you in a hurry to meet Amy?” he asked.

      “She said I could drop by any time in the next hour or so,” she said. “But I hate waiting. I’m also afraid I’m going to chew out those blockheads when they get back. That’s not a good way to meet my neighbors.”

      “I’d be happy to give you a ride.” There was nothing wrong with enjoying her company as long as they kept it light.

      Natalie considered his offer. “Amy did say she’d like to go shopping later. I guess she could drop me back here.”

      “Done.” Taking her elbow, Patrick guided her toward his car.

      “Why did you say you were here?” she asked as she slid into her seat.

      “Passing through,” Patrick mumbled, and closed the door as soon as she was tucked inside.

      When he climbed behind the wheel, he felt Natalie’s presence surround him like an embrace. “It smells nice in here,” she said. “Do I detect a hint of flowers?”

      Patrick started the engine. “I took some to Mrs. McLanahan while she’s laid low.”

      “Her arthritis is really painful,” Natalie said. “I dropped by last night with Chinese food. She says it’s okay to cheat on her low-cholesterol diet once in a while.”

      “That was kind of you.” He hadn’t realized it was a flareup of arthritis that had sidelined the usually vivacious widow. “You’re always doing things for people. I know they appreciate it.”

      “My sister Alana says I help too much.” She snuggled against the soft leather upholstery. “She calls me an enabler, but that’s not true.”

      “Helping people doesn’t mean you’re underwriting their bad habits.” Patrick stopped the car at Serene Boulevard. “Which way?”

      “Amy lives down in West Serene, near the Black Cat Café.” The club was known for its large deli sandwiches and funky music. “Is that too far out of your way?” She knew, of course, about the luncheon.

      “Not by much.” Patrick didn’t mind a little inconvenience. He had plenty of time.

      From the corner of his eye, he caught Nat studying him. She pressed her lips together, then touched them with the tip of her tongue as if she had something to say but wasn’t sure whether she wanted to say it.

      “You feeling okay?” he asked.

      “Why, do I look different?” Natalie said.

      “Your cheeks are kind of flushed,” he said. “You aren’t ill, are you?”

      “I feel great.”

      “Good.” That conversation had gone nowhere, he thought, and wished he knew what else to say. In silence, they headed south on Serene Boulevard, passing the intersection with Bordeaux Way that led to the main entrance of Doctors Circle.

      “How do you feel about kids?” Natalie asked out of the blue.

      The question stopped him cold. “That’s funny,” Patrick said. “My sister made the same point earlier.”

      “What point?” It was her turn to look confused.

      “She believes I was happier when I was in pediatrics. Although I don’t understand how you’d know that, since we weren’t working together then,” he said. “I do miss the children. But in the long run I’m helping more of them in my current position.”

      “I meant…” She let the sentence trail off. “Look, there’s a crafts fair at Outlook Park.” Ahead on the right, Patrick saw a cheerful cluster of booths amid the greenery. “Can we stop for a minute? I need to get a couple of presents.”

      “Fine with me.” He rarely browsed through crafts sales, but with Natalie, it ought to be fun.

      They parked in the lot and joined the shoppers. Quickly Natalie selected a set of enamel earrings for one friend and a fanciful hat for a niece.

      “I’ve got lots of nieces and nephews,” she explained as she chose a couple of extra items for future occasions. “Oh, this one’s for me!” She picked up a stuffed bunny.

      “You’re loyal to your rabbit motif, I see.” Patrick had given Natalie a bunny paperweight for Secretary’s Day, along with lunch and flowers. Thank goodness his sister had reminded him of the event and pointed out the bunny images on Natalie’s coffee mug.

      “It’s too bad I didn’t pick a rarer animal,” his secretary said, skirting a stroller. “If I collected hedgehogs, I wouldn’t buy so many curios. But rabbits appeal to me.”

      When she stopped at another booth, Patrick volunteered to carry her rapidly filling shopping bag. “I can at least make myself useful.”

      “Thanks.” She handed it over. “You’re not bored, are you?”

      “I enjoy watching you shop,” he said truthfully.

      “Are you sure—Oh, what a cute little coin-box wishing well! I’ll buy it for Amy.”

      She