Prescription for Romance / Love and the Single Dad. Susan Crosby

her marrow wasn’t a match. So the search was on for some miscellaneous stranger whose marrow might provide the cure.

      There was, however, a glimmer of hope when Ramona remembered accidentally stumbling over a piece of vital information packed away in a long-forgotten box hidden in the back of her closet.

      Katherine Tate was one of those people who never threw anything away, she just moved it around every so often from one pile to another, from one room to another. In one of her many, many boxes throughout the house was a bundle of receipts and bills dating back more than a couple of decades. Including a receipt from the Armstrong Fertility Institute for the purchase of donor eggs.

      In between jobs and desperate for money, Katherine had sold a part of herself in order that “some poor childless couple know the kind of joy I do.” At least, those had been her mother’s words when Ramona had finally confronted Katherine with her find.

      Now Ramona could only hope that the eggs had been used and that somewhere out there she had a sibling walking around. A sibling whose bone marrow would turn out to be a perfect match for her mother.

      Finding this sibling was far more important to Ramona than breaking the story of any ethical wrongdoing on the institute’s part.

      But she wouldn’t be able to do either if this bipolar man made good on his threat to terminate her before she even got started in her search. For that to happen, she needed to get entrenched here. She already knew that calling the institute’s administration office with her plight was an exercise in futility. When she had, the woman on the other end of the line had briskly told her that accessing the old records would be a violation of those patients’ right to privacy.

      Yeah, right. As if the Armstrongs and their minions actually cared a fig about doing the right thing.

      “You were hired,” Paul began slowly, trying to carefully hit all the salient points, “by someone who didn’t have the proper authority to hire anyone by himself.”

      Ramona felt her temper shortening.

      “I don’t understand,” she said, hoping that the smile on her lips didn’t look as fake as it felt to her.

      Paul backtracked in his head, realizing that he’d failed to state the most obvious part, the part that would instantly untangle the rest. Or so he hoped.

      “You see, I’m twins.”

      She stared at him, her blue eyes widening. “You are?”

      That sounded stupid, he upbraided himself. “I mean, I’m one of twins. I have a brother,” he told her. “He looks just like me. His name’s Derek and he’s the one who hired you.”

      Her expression never changed, but her tone was slightly incredulous as she asked, “You’re not Derek Armstrong?”

      Finally. The light at the end of the tunnel was beginning to materialize, he thought, relieved. “No, I’m Paul.”

      Twins. Damn, how had she missed that? She’d been so consumed with getting ammunition against the institute and being angry because they wouldn’t just help her get at the information she needed to, hopefully, find a sibling, she’d completely skimmed over the Armstrongs’ family dynamics.

      She needed to be more thorough, Ramona told herself sternly.

      Cocking her head, she scrutinized the man in front of her, doing her best to give off an aura of sweetness. She knew that she could be all but irresistible if she wanted to be. She eased her conscience by reminding herself that this was definitely not for personal gain. This was for her mother.

      “Now that you mention it, you do look a little more robust and athletic than you—I mean, your brother—did yesterday.” She was five-seven, not exactly a petite flower. But the man before her was taller, way taller. He looked even more so since she was sitting and he was not.

      Ramona raised her eyes to his in a studied look of innocent supplication. A look she’d practiced more than once. “So he—your brother—can’t hire me?”

      Now she was getting it, Paul thought. “Not by himself, no.”

      Again she cocked her head, employing a certain come-hither look as she asked him, “Can he hire me if you hire me?”

      Why did he feel as if the ground beneath his feet was turning from shale to sand, leaving him nothing solid to stand on? “Not without Lisa’s okay,” he heard himself say hoarsely.

      Another country heard from, Ramona thought impatiently, trying to remember exactly how many Armstrongs worked at the institute. Her smile never wavered as she repeated, “Lisa?”

      Paul nodded, trying not to stare. Was it his imagination, or did she somehow suddenly look more beautiful? “My younger sister. She’s the head administrator here at the institute.”

      That had to have been the cold voice on the phone, Ramona thought. “Does anyone else have a vote?”

      He smiled and she thought he had a rather nice smile. It softened his features and made him appear less distant and forbidding.

      “No, that’s it,” he assured her. “Just the three of us.”

      She nodded slowly, as if taking it all in and digesting the information. What she was really doing was casting about for a way to appeal to him and make him let her remain.

      “Well,” she said slowly with a drop of seduction woven in, “we know that I have your brother’s vote. Do I have yours?”

      For one unguarded moment, he could have sworn that he felt some sort of a sharp pull, an attraction to this young woman. But then he told himself it was just that he had always appreciated beauty no matter where he came across it. He certainly couldn’t allow it to cloud his judgment, especially when it came to the institute.

      Still, a public relations manager might prove useful, he supposed. Paul was honest in his answer. “I’d have to think about it.”

      She appeared undaunted. “Well, that’s better than ‘no,’” Ramona allowed.

      Faced with her optimism, Paul wavered a little more in his stand, shifting in a direction he knew that Lisa would easily disapprove. “I tell you what. Let me talk to the others and we’ll get back to you.”

      Ramona smiled. It made him think of a sunrise. Warm and full of promise. And then she looked just a tad shy as she asked, “In the meantime, would it be all right if I drafted a press release?”

      “A press release?” Paul echoed, confused. “About what?”

      “About doctors Demetrios and Bonner joining your staff. Mr. Armstrong—Mr. Derek Armstrong,” she amended, “said that so far, no mention had been made of the transition. I think it would be a big plus for the institute, not to mention that it would be a huge draw, as well.” Not that the institute actually needed it, she thought. The rich and famous flocked here, and the masses followed. “These two researchers are very famous in their field.”

      “I know,” he said, amused that she believed she was telling him something he wasn’t aware of.

      “Of course you do.” Holding her breath just so allowed the right amount of pink to creep into her cheeks. She instinctively knew that Paul was the kind of man who reacted to blushes, even though it was as out of date as a silver disco ball. “I just meant that it should be brought to people’s attention. It’s positive reinforcement.” And then she flashed him another guileless smile. “I promise I won’t do anything with the draft until I get your—all of your,” she amended, “okays.”

      She sounded so eager and upbeat, Paul found that he hadn’t the heart to tell her to wait until after he’d won Lisa over. Lisa could be difficult at times, especially if she felt that her territory was being encroached upon and threatened. Her earlier tirade was likely only the tip of the iceberg on this matter.

      “That’ll be fine,” he told her and then he quickly walked out of the