The Family They Chose / Private Partners. Nancy Robards Thompson

the door when he heard Olivia talking in hushed tones.

      “That sounds absolutely perfect,” she said. “But may I call you back? I can’t really talk right now.”

      At that moment, the doorbell rang. The car, no doubt. Jamison walked soundlessly down the hall so that Olivia wouldn’t see him and ducked back into the living room.

      When she finally joined him a moment later, he patted his pockets. “I think I forgot something. Would you tell the driver I’ll be right out?”

      “Sure.”

      Jamison went into the spare bedroom where he’d spent the past two nights, picked up the phone extension, and pressed the record for the caller ID log.

      The name that appeared was Chance Demetrios. The doctor that she’d seen only once—or at least only one time that he was aware of.

      All sorts of questions raced through his mind: Why was he calling her now? Was this the man who, last night, she’d sounded so anxious to see?

      Feeling threatened on a number of levels, when he got to the front door, Jamison pulled Olivia into a tight embrace—and again he kissed her as if he really meant it.

      So what if he was being territorial. He had good reason. He loved her and he couldn’t stand the thought of her keeping secrets from him or worse yet, turning to another man when she should be confiding in him. He’d given her too much space. Been too busy. Too wrapped up in work, his thoughts focused firmly on the future presidential election. Even so, he still hoped she’d turn to him before she ran to someone else. Even if the man was her doctor.

      It was a shame it took something like this to remind him that they belonged together.

      His lips found her earlobe, her jaw, her neck and he trailed possessive kisses down to her collarbone. He knew he had to stop. The driver was waiting and if he didn’t stop now, he’d sweep his wife up in his arms and take her upstairs to their bed and prove exactly how much he loved her, like he should’ve done the minute he got home on Christmas Eve.

      “Jamison, you’d better go,” she said breathlessly, breaking the contact.

      She slid her hands from his shoulders down his arms and took his hands in hers.

      There they stood, face-to-face, eye-to-eye—and the words just slipped out.

      “Who was on the phone?”

      Just like that, her face shuttered again, closing him out. Her eyes held the mysterious darkness of kept secrets.

      “No one.” She stepped away from him, opened the front door. The cold winter wind blew in, cutting him down to the core of his body.

      “Well, I heard the phone ring and it wasn’t the driver. Was it a wrong number? Your sister? The Salvation Army?”

      She looked at him as if he was crazy. For a desperate, furious moment he felt he was stark, raving mad.

      “None of the above,” she insisted. “You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t go.”

      He looked at her closely. “You’re keeping something from me.”

      “No, I’m not.”

      The protest came a little too quickly and fervently. The shuttered look on her face made it difficult for him to read her. That’s why he was so taken aback when she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand.

      “I love you, Jamison. You just have to trust me, okay?”

      Trust her? When she’s obviously keeping something from me? Even so—

      “I love you, too. Please don’t ever forget it, okay?”

      He gave her one last hug before he walked down the red brick steps and got into the car. As soon as the vehicle pulled away, he took out his BlackBerry and dialed Cameron McInerney, his aide.

      “Good morning, Cameron. I need you to do a background check on a Dr. Chance Demetrios of Boston. Hire a P.I. if you need to. I want to know everything about this guy, every move he makes.”

      Jamison hung up the phone and slid it into the breast pocket of his coat. He stared out the window at the tall buildings of downtown Boston. It was his home, but this morning it felt so strange.

      Soon enough he’d know if Dr. Demetrios was, indeed, no one, as Liv claimed … or if he was someone that Jamison needed to be concerned about.

      Either way, he intended to discover exactly what his wife was keeping from him.

       Chapter Five

      The next day Olivia arrived at the institute early so that she could thank Paul for arranging her appointment with Chance Demetrios. True to form, he was back at work even though the institute was closed for the holidays for the rest of the week.

      She rapped on his door. When he looked up, she wriggled her fingers at him.

      “Hello, stranger,” he said, rising from his desk and walking to meet her. He pulled her into a ribcrushing bear hug. When he let her go, he asked, “Where’s Jamison?”

      Olivia donned her best happy wife smile.

      “He had to go back to D.C. yesterday.” She shrugged. “I was disappointed, but I understand that duty calls. He hated to disrupt our plans. He’s coming back next week, though.”

      When Paul started nodding, she realized she was babbling and stopped.

      “So how are you?” he asked.

      “I’m doing fine. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help getting me an appointment with Dr. Demetrios today.”

      He waved it off. “Oh, it was nothing. Both Chance and I are here this week. So I figured it would be a good opportunity to get you in. Otherwise, he’s pretty booked. Business is booming.”

      Paul smiled proudly as he motioned her to sit down. Her brother was the consummate workaholic. Even so, he used to be worse before his fiancée, Ramona Tate, came into his life. Before they met, he rarely took a day off. Ramona had been good for him in that respect, and it was wonderful to see him so happy. Not only that, her brother’s love story was encouraging. His and Ramona’s relationship had grown out of the worst sort of adversity when Paul’s twin, Derek, had hired her without consulting either Paul or their sister, Lisa. Plus, Derek did not do a thorough background check. If he had, he would have discovered that Ramona was an investigative reporter intent on going undercover to write an unflattering exposé on the institute. Olivia was the only one of Gerald Armstrong’s kids who had opted out of the family business. She just wasn’t wired for business the way her brothers and sister were.

      It was times like this that she was glad she’d followed her own path.

      Olivia and her siblings had made their father proud by graduating from Harvard. But that’s where the similarities ended. Instead of studying business and medicine, Olivia had majored in literature and minored in ballet. In fact, in her sophomore year she’d had the great honor of being tapped as one of Harvard Ballet’s youngest assistant artistic directors. She’d spent her entire stint at Harvard performing with the company in which she’d taken such pride.

      Even so, as her relationship with Jamison had become more serious, it had eventually eclipsed her love of dance and she’d given it up for marriage and a family of her own.

      Despite her traditional values, she’d always danced to her own tune. Perhaps that was why she was having such a hard time letting Jamison dictate when they’d have children.

      The situation with Ramona had caused a lot of family strain, and Olivia took heart in this perfect example of love conquering all. If her brother’s relationship could come up against such strife and survive, surely Jamison could forgive her extreme measures of starting their family. Because despite her husband’s belief otherwise, there was never a perfect time to have a baby. She was sure Jamison would