Doctor, Mummy...Wife?. Dianne Drake

      “Maybe. But who’s going to notice.”

      “Everybody.” He laughed. “Are you afraid of me?”

      “No, not really. I’m just not in the mood to have a man in my life—especially one I’ll be working closely with.”

      “You formed that opinion of me after one day?”

      “I form fast opinions.”

      “You must. But just so you know, I don’t hate you and I don’t even dislike you. I got off to a bad start this morning because of some personal matters and it carried over. But it has nothing to do with you.” He smiled gently. “In fact, I’ve felt bad all day for the way we got started.”

      “You did?” she asked.

      “I’m not usually quite so abrupt.”

      “Neither am I.”

      They both laughed.

      “So tomorrow maybe we get off on a better foot?” she asked.

      “Well, now that that’s settled, let me be the one to hang up this time.” With that he clicked off.

      * * *

      Her second and third days at work went a little better than her first, but she still missed Charlie so badly. Her situation with Simon didn’t improve, though. She tried being friendlier, and he reciprocated, not in an out-and-out way but at least in a friendlier manner. Still, to Del their relationship felt distanced. Cordial but not particularly friendly. And somehow she had the impression it didn’t have anything to do with her. At least she hoped it didn’t because she wanted them to be just a touch more than cordial.

      It was the fifth day when he actually greeted her with some hospitality. “Would you mind taking over a case for me?”

      “Symptoms?”

      “First, he’s four years and his mother admitted to some pretty heavy drinking during pregnancy.”

      “So let me list some symptoms for you. Poor impulse control, poor personal boundaries, poor anger management, stubbornness, intrusive behavior, too friendly with strangers, poor daily living skills, developmental delays—attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder, confusion under pressure, poor abstract skills, difficulty distinguishing between fantasy and reality, slower cognitive processing. Stop me when I hit five of these.”

      “You hit five of the symptoms a long time ago.”

      “So you know what it is?”

      He nodded. “But you’re the expert in treatment for FAS.”

      “I’ll be glad to take a look and get started with a plan, but you do realize that most treatments respond best to behavioral therapy. Poor thing’s going to be saddled with a disability for his entire life.”

      “Well, you’re the best one for the job,” he admitted.

      That took her by surprise. “Thank you. I appreciate the compliment,” she said, almost stumbling over her words.

      “Look, is there any chance we could start over...again?”

      “Maybe,” she said, hiding a smile. She liked this side of him and she was glad she was finally going to coax it out of him, if for no other reason than a better working relationship. “Is the mother or father more responsive now?”

      “Child’s under protective service. He has a foster family who really cares.”

      “That’s a step in the right direction.”

      “Anyway, I told them we have an expert on staff so I’m leaving it up to you to schedule them in. I slid the note with his file reference under your office door.”

      “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she said.

      “When you’ve got the best on staff you’d be crazy not to.”

      She didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or a disparaging remark in disguise. For a moment or two she’d been flattered, but now...she didn’t know. It seemed more like a professional request and not something that spoke to his opinion of her abilities. Oh, well, she decided. It was what it was, whatever that might be. “I’ll read the file and call the foster parents to see what we’ll be addressing.”

      “I appreciate it,” he said as he walked away.

      “Do you really?” she whispered. “I wonder.”

      * * *

      It was hard getting a beat on the good Dr. Del. One minute she seemed friendly enough and the next she was glacial. So, what was her game? Simon wondered as he watched her stride through the hall without so much as a glance in his direction. Did she hate men? Or did she feel that he jeopardized her position at the clinic? Whatever the case, they were barely any further along than they’d been two weeks ago when she’d first come back to work, and now it was becoming frustrating. While he didn’t expect a friendship out of the deal, he did expect a civil work environment, which she barely gave him but only because it was required. And, it was getting to him. Maybe it was the whole social conquest of the deal but he did have to admit the more she stayed away, the more he wanted to get close. With her long, nearly black hair and her dark brown eyes, she had a drop-dead-gorgeous body that begged to be looked at and he enjoyed the looking.

      Was she becoming a habit or an obsession? Maybe a little of both. But he wasn’t the only man doing the looking. He was, though, the only one she treated with woeful disregard. Except in the professional capacity and there she was cordial.

      Well, never let it be said he was the one who gave up the fight. “How’s little Curtis doing?” he asked.

      “It’s like you thought. Fetal alcohol syndrome. He’s got a tough life ahead of him but I got him in a program that has some luck treating kids with his disorder. I’ll be following him medically. He’s a cute little boy.”

      “I’d be interested in learning more,” he said, out of the blue. “Maybe we could get together sometime and you could give me some pointers.”

      She looked almost taken aback. “Um...sure. Why not?”

      “You name the time and place,” he said, “and I’ll be there.”

      “Friday night, if I can get a sitter? Or do you have plans?”

      He chuckled. “Plans? Me have plans? Not for a long, long time.”

      “Good, then, Friday it is...” She paused. Frowned.

      “Anxiety over leaving the baby behind?”

      “Other than my work days it’s the first time I’ll have left him.”

      “Well, you need a night away from the kiddies—all of them. Some good old-fashioned adult company. So how about we grab a pizza and you can give me the basic crash course on FAS? I understand you’ve done some writing on it and presented some lectures.”

      She shrugged. “I used to, but I’m not inclined to take up my time that way, now. Oh, and we’ll have to make it an early evening because I don’t want to disrupt Charlie’s schedule. In fact, instead of going out for pizza, how about we order in? Then I won’t have to get a sitter or disrupt anything.”

      “A night in with you and...?”

      “Charlie. Named after my dad.”

      “A night in with you and Charlie. Sounds doable.”

      “Great, come over early, around six. He’s usually tired out from day care and ready to go down for a nap for an hour or so. We can have the pizza then. Then after bedtime we’ll talk about FAS, if that’s OK with your schedule.”

      She almost sounded excited. It was as if she was starved of adult interaction. She must have been to invite him over. Of course, she still wasn’t going to get too far away from her baby. There’d