Dr. Daddy. Elizabeth Bevarly

Sorry. Just that I should send you in as soon as you arrive.”

      He rubbed vigorously at his forehead, trying to will the throbbing between his temples to go away, since the pain relievers were doing no good whatever. He was still cradling his forehead in his palm when he pushed open the door to LDR room C, so he didn’t realize it was packed full of people until they all shouted out, “Surprise!”

      Immediately, Jonas looked up to find himself surrounded by doctors, nurses, interns, orderlies and other representatives of every unit housed in the east wing. Intermingled between them were several dozen colorful balloons—some of which, he noted, were actually inflated surgical gloves with smiley faces drawn on them in Magic Marker—and a huge sheet cake ablaze with candles and billowing smoke.

      “You didn’t think you could hide the big four-oh from us, did you, Jonas?” Lily Forrest, the head of neonatal intensive care asked him.

      Lily and her husband, Mike, had been the first friends Jonas had made after his arrival in New Jersey. Actually, he realized reluctantly, they were the only friends he’d made since moving. Then again, he thought, he was a man who liked to keep to himself. At least, he had been, before the social worker holding Juliana had arrived at his front door. On top of every other lousy thing that had happened since New Year’s Day, Jonas was turning forty. He had no idea how Lily had discovered that today was his birthday. And he’d certainly told no one how old he was going to be. Hell, he didn’t even like to think about that himself.

      But now, as he stared out at the eager, smiling faces surrounding him, and the cake with enough candles burning atop it to make it appear comical, he felt a genuine smile start to curl itself onto his lips. Until his gaze traveled over the crowd and settled on one woman in particular.

      A redheaded nurse stood alone in the corner. Her long, straight ponytail, crisp, blue surgical scrubs and the stethoscope dangling around her neck made her appear a vision of efficiency and calm. Jonas couldn’t deny that Zoey Holland was the epitome of efficiency. However, he also knew she was anything but calm. Her ramrod-straight posture, and the perfectly manicured, red fingernails digging into the arms she had crossed over her chest gave her away. That and the scowl she always seemed to reserve for him alone.

      Jonas knew Zoey hated him. And, he conceded reluctantly, maybe she had a right. He hadn’t been the easiest man to get along with lately. And, dammit, for some reason, she really rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, but the two of them had been butting heads almost since day one.

      “Well, aren’t you going to say something?” Lily asked him, circling an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close for an affectionate hug.

      “Frankly, Lily, I’m not quite sure what to say,” he told her honestly. “Who’s minding the store? There must be countless women in labor wondering what’s happened to the staff.”

      “They’ve all been nice enough to time their contractions to convenience our little party. Besides, there’s just been a shift change. What you’ve got here is the first shift on their way out.”

      “Yet you all made time to wish me a happy birthday,” Jonas remarked, honestly flattered by their gesture. “Thank you,” he added. “I’m not sure how you knew it was my birthday....” His voice trailed off as he offered Lily a look of mock censure. “And it might be best if I don’t find out, but...” He didn’t know what else to say, so he simply repeated, “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome,” Lily told him. “Now hurry up and blow out your candles before someone calls the fire marshal.”

      As Jonas approached the cake, he glimpsed Zoey from the corner of his eye trying to make a discreet exit. There was no doubt in his mind that she had been pressed into attending this party against her will, and suddenly feeling inexplicably devilish, he called out after her, “Give me a hand here, will you, Zoey? I’m not sure I can do this by myself.”

      She paused, her long, fiery ponytail shivering like liquid copper as she clearly tried to control what was at best her pique—and at worst her rage, Jonas was certain—at being singled out from the others.

      “Sorry, Dr. Tate, but I’m kind of pressed for time,” she said as she spun around quickly. “I’m pulling an extra shift later tonight for Jeannette, and I’ve really got to get home and catch a little shut-eye before I come back.”

      Her long hair kept moving even when she stopped, cascading over one shoulder in a ruddy stream. Jonas’s fingers twitched at his sides. Normally she wore her hair confined in a tightly woven French braid or wound into a bun. This was the loosest he’d ever seen it, and he was helpless to deny that, at the moment, he wanted nothing more for his birthday than to bury his fingers in the silky tresses. He wondered if her “little shut-eye” after work included a man, and if that was why she was wearing her hair almost loose like that. Her green eyes flashed at him as he formed the thought, as if to demand what business it was of his if she were.

      “Oh, come on,” he cajoled her. “This will only take a minute.”

      Zoey Holland glared at Jonas Tate with all her might, willing him to spontaneously combust so that she could go home and soak in a hot bath. It was no secret to anyone in the east wing that she and Jonas Tate did not, to put it politely, get along with each other. Yet here he was, in front of God and everyone, daring her to be nice to him. His challenge didn’t sit well with Zoey, and she wondered what he was setting her up for.

      On top of that, she’d had a lousy day. The only thing that had made it bearable was that it had looked as if she would see it through to its completion without running into the infuriating Dr. Tate. She had been this close to grabbing her coat and leaving the floor when she’d been corralled by Dr. Forrest.

      Only because Zoey had such enormous respect and admiration for Lily Forrest had she conceded to the woman’s request that she attend this surprise party for Jonas Tate. She didn’t have to stay long, only a few minutes, Lily had promised her, knowing as well as everyone that Zoey didn’t get along with the good doctor. But maybe, Lily had suggested further, Zoey’s appearance would help mend the rift that seemed to be growing wider everyday between the two.

      Zoey knew the only thing that would mend the rift between herself and Dr. Tate would be to erect a wall three feet thick between the two of them. But, nonetheless, she had promised Lily she would come. What would a few minutes hurt? she had reasoned. She could hang back in the corner and sneak out when no one was looking. Besides, Lily had said there would be cake. Chocolate cake with white icing, without question the most favorite culinary treat Zoey could name. She’d grab a piece and take it home, and have it with her coffee after dinner.

      A few minutes, she repeated to herself now. That was how long Lily had said Zoey would have to stay. Well, a few minutes were up, and she wanted to go home. Still, Jonas Tate’s eyes glittered with the light of combat as he awaited her reply, and she had never been one to back down from a challenge. Especially when she’d been challenged by an overblown, egocentric, self-important, male chauvinistic—

      “Zoey?” he asked again, his deep, rusty-sounding baritone grating on her nerves. “Better hurry. This cake’s going to set off the sprinkler system if we don’t put it out soon.”

      She wasn’t sure when or why she decided to play along, but Zoey suddenly found herself moving slowly toward the good doctor. He looked like hell, she noted absently. His hair, normally a little longish, but nonetheless neat, was becoming pretty shaggy, and he clearly hadn’t shaved that morning.

      She wondered idly if he had overslept at the house of a female companion after spending the night practicing all kinds of sexual gymnastics, and simply hadn’t had the time—or the energy—to make himself presentable for work. Come to think of it, he did look pretty exhausted, she thought as she drew nearer. Just what kind of women did he date, anyway?

      He smiled at her when she halted beside him, and she wondered why she even cared about the type of woman who would interest Jonas Tate. She already knew the answer to that—someone coy, petite, demure and submissive. Which, of course, left her completely