Kitabı oku: «Prescription for Romance / Love and the Single Dad», sayfa 2

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 room before he wound up agreeing to something else.

He needed to find Derek and have a few choice words with his brother for putting him in this situation. A few very choice words.

He found Derek just outside his brother’s office, engaged in what appeared to be a very private conversation with one of the newer and younger administrative assistants. From the looks of it, it appeared that groundwork for far more than further conversation was being laid.

Suppressing a sigh, Paul inserted himself between the exceedingly perky young redhead in the platform heels and his brother. “Excuse us, please, um—” He had no idea what the young woman’s name was.

“Danielle.” Both the young woman and Derek said the name at the same time, which caused them to exchange more covert looks. Paul heard the assistant smother a giggle.

“Danielle,” Paul repeated with a slight nod of his head, “I need to speak with my brother.”

“Of course.” Inclining her head, the administrative assistant drew away. But not before she exchanged one more overtly steamy, sexy glance with the institute’s CFO.

Paul walked into his brother’s recently remodeled office and waited for Derek to follow. Which Derek did. Languidly.

The moment the door was closed, Paul immediately started talking. “What the hell were you thinking, hiring that young girl?” he demanded.

Derek looked at him, apparently confused. “Who?”

“The one sitting in Connie Winston’s old office. Your so-called PR manager.”

If he was aware of the sarcasm in his brother’s voice, Derek didn’t show it. “Oh, you mean Ramona Tate.” Derek grinned broadly, obviously pleased with himself. “That was a real lucky break.”

Derek was usually more intuitive than this. Ordinarily, he picked up on tension. Maybe his brother thought it would all just go away if he didn’t acknowledge it. Think again, Derek. If nothing else, Paul wanted some of the ground rules reaffirmed.

“Some of us,” he told Derek, “don’t think so.”

Derek laughed shortly. “By ‘some’ I take it you mean Lisa and you.” Even as he said the words amicably, he knew the answer. Just as he knew that their baby sister was behind this confrontation. Even as a kid, Lisa was into power plays. As the youngest of the Armstrong children, she always wanted to come out on top, to be the one the others listened to.

Putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder, Derek said patiently, “Paul, you’re an excellent physician and a wonderful chief of staff here at the institute. If you ask me, you deserve a lot more credit than you’re getting. But let’s be honest, there’s no denying that the institute needs help.”

“I got us help,” Paul pointed out tersely. “I got Demetrios and Bonner to leave their hospital and join the institute. In case you missed it, they’re the cutting-edge research team who—”

“I didn’t miss it,” Derek answered crisply, cutting in. “But I just might have been the only one around who didn’t.”

Paul had absolutely no idea what that even meant. “What?”

“Exactly,” Derek declared as if Paul had made his point for him. “What newspaper was that where the press release announcing their joining the institute was run? Oh, wait, it wasn’t,” he said with exaggerated enlightenment. “Because we had no one manning our PR desk to make that press release. But we do now,” he concluded with a smug, triumphant smile.

Paul was easygoing up to a point, but he dug in now. If he didn’t take a stand here, he might as well just lie down and have Derek walk all over him. “Not until Lisa and I agree to hire her.”

“Then agree,” Derek told him, trying to control his irritation. “Because she’s already hired.”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?” Derek wanted to know. “I hired her yesterday.”

“And I put her on temporary notice.”

The smile evaporated instantly. Derek exploded. “For God’s sake, why?”

Paul dug deep for patience. Derek, he knew, was accustomed to doing whatever he wanted to unopposed. But when it came to the institute, important decisions had to involve all three of them. They’d agreed on that when they took over the famous facility from their ailing father.

As if it was the first time, Paul doled his words out evenly. “Because you can’t just go off and do this kind of thing whenever you feel like it without at least consulting Lisa and me.”

“So you’re going to let Ramona go because you’re mad at me?” he asked in abject disbelief. Derek shook his head in amazement. “Boy, leave it to you to be such a cliché.”

Paul’s gaze became flinty. “Excuse me?”

Derek frowned, exasperated. “That old chestnut about cutting off your nose to spite your face. That’s what you’re doing.”

Any moment now, his brother was going to throw a tantrum, Paul thought. “You’re carrying on as if I just fired Woodward and Bernstein. That girl looks like she’s barely out of high school, let alone college. We implant embryos here, Derek, we don’t hire them.”

Derek raised his voice to be heard over him. “Ramona Tate is twenty-five years old and she has impressive credentials—”

“Which I’m sure you checked thoroughly.” Paul couldn’t help the note of sarcasm that came into his voice. He sincerely doubted that Derek had done anything but glance at her résumé.

Derek squared his shoulders indignantly. “I was getting to that.”

Sure you were, Paul thought. “Want another old chestnut?”

Derek slanted a glance toward him, a suspicious look entering his eyes. “Like what?”

“Like you’re putting the cart before the horse.” In this case, he’d hired the woman and planned to rubber-stamp her references—if she even had any.

A deep chuckle escaped Derek’s lips. “Maybe you didn’t notice—and if you didn’t, you’d be the only one who wouldn’t—but this ‘horse’ has lines that could stop a charging rhino in his tracks.”

Paul sighed, shaking his head. “So this is about your libido.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Unlike you, I have one, but in this case I was thinking of the institute.”

Paul leaned a hip against his brother’s desk. “This I have to hear.”

“There’s nothing wrong in having an extremely attractive—and able—woman to represent us. To be the ‘face’ of the Armstrong Fertility Institute.” Seeing that he was losing Paul, Derek hurried to add, “Which would you rather look at when it comes to getting your information, a gnarled, short, bald, fat man or an attractive young woman who makes your blood surge and makes you think of fertility just by looking at her?”

“I’d just as soon get it in a report on my desk.”

Derek threw up his hands. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

Paul made no comment on that. He didn’t feel he needed to defend himself. This wasn’t about him, or Derek. This was about their father’s legacy. “How much is she costing the institute?”

Derek rallied for a second defense. “Not as much as you would think—and Ramona is worth every penny of it.”

Paul gave his twin a knowing look. “I’ll bet.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Paul. I was referring to the press release I asked her to prepare.”

Was that why the woman had asked him if she could draft a statement? “About?” he asked cautiously, wanting to see if the stories agreed.

“Your dynamic duo, of course. Bonner and Demetrios bring their own sterling reputations to the table—just as you planned.” Derek wasn’t above trying to butter his brother up if he had to. “We get the public focusing on that, they’ll forget the rumors.”

He blew out a breath, then looked at Paul hopefully. “So how about it, Paul? Can we take her off notice and just watch her work?” He put his arm around his brother’s shoulders in a gesture of solidarity. “I promise you won’t be sorry.”

There was no way that Derek could guarantee that. “And if I am?”

Derek laughed. “Not even you can be that much of a stodgy old man.” Derek tapped his brother’s chest with the back of his hand. “Loosen up, Paul. You’ll not only live longer, but you’ll get to enjoy yourself, too.”

“I do enjoy my life,” Paul insisted. And he did. He was dedicated to continuing his father’s work and to granting childless couples their fondest wish. That was more than enough for him.

Derek merely shook his head. “Can’t see how, but okay. Do you know where Lisa is?”

Paul laughed quietly. “Most likely sharpening her tongue so she can give you a good lashing.”

“That’s why I want to head her off,” Derek confessed. “I was hoping to make a preemptive strike.”

Paul thought of the expression on Lisa’s face when she burst into his office earlier. “Too late,” he speculated.

Derek was not easily defeated. And he had the ability to talk someone to death—or at least until he got what he wanted.

“Maybe not,” he countered as he went off in search of their sister. Ramona Tate was staying and that was that. He was not about to tolerate being overridden. The institute needed to continue to make money and that was not going to happen if people—wealthy people—stopped coming to avail themselves of what they had to offer here. Their focus needed to be redirected to a positive image, and Ramona Tate seemed just the person to do it.

Both he and the institute would benefit from that.

Chapter Three

Ramona already knew that there was nothing in this small office that could help her with her investigation. If there was data that could openly incriminate one or more of the staff at the institute for engaging in the wrongful substitution of eggs or sperm, it wouldn’t be readily accessible. She was also fairly certain that nothing tangible would turn up to back the claim that too many embryos were being implanted purely to up the success ratio.

There was no way she was going to learn how to access records that had been archived just by sitting here, staring at the walls. Ramona wasn’t even certain that there were archived records. Since they might prove to be incriminating, they might have been destroyed years ago. She knew for a fact that they weren’t on any database within the institute.

All she could do was hope that Gerald Armstrong, who ran this facility until ill health had forced him into retirement, had been vain enough to hang on to everything—good or bad—that even remotely testified to his accomplishments and his genius. From what she’d read and heard, the man had a more than healthy ego.

If the senior Armstrong had played God and implanted her mother’s eggs into someone, she thought, adrenaline rushing excitedly through her veins, that had to have been noted in the recipient’s file. She might be looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least she’d know that there was a needle.

Dr. Gerald Armstrong had been in charge of operations and treatments when her mother had sold her eggs to the institute, Ramona thought. Pacing about her small office, she wondered now if there was any plausible excuse she could come up with in order to gain access to the man. All she needed was about ten minutes. She knew that these days he led a fairly low-key, quiet life, hardly ever leaving his home. He was cared for and looked after by his very long-suffering wife.

It had to be hell for both of them, Ramona thought. Emily Stanton Armstrong came from a good family and had a high social standing in the community when she married the up-and-coming pioneering doctor. The woman spent her days planning charitable events and her evenings attending them.

From her research, Ramona knew that the good doctor had made sure that he got his share of mileage out of the successes the institute achieved. Handsome, dynamic and blessed with the gift of gab, rumor had it that Gerald Armstrong had more than one illicit relationship. Mrs. Armstrong cast a blind eye to his dealings and partied harder.

Now they were almost like two shut-ins—he, more often than not, relegated to his wheelchair, she to nursing a man she had quite possibly learned to loathe.

Not exactly the type of people she wanted to have anything to do with, Ramona thought. Still, she was not above using any means, fair or foul, to achieve her main goal: finding out if her mother’s desperate action had ultimately resulted in a child who could save her life.

For now, though, Ramona had no choice but to stay in her office and wait for Armstrong—be it Paul or Derek, or perhaps even Lisa—to come and tell her whether or not she was to stay on as PR manager.

Because she wasn’t the type to waste time by aimlessly surfing the Web, Ramona decided to do exactly what she’d told Paul she was going to do: draft a press release about the research team who had recently been enticed to add their names to the fertility institute’s roster.

Even though she was only twenty-five, she already had established several strong connections within the media world. Pulling a few strings, she was certain that she could get sufficient coverage for Demetrios and Bonner’s shift from working at a teaching hospital to bringing their research program to the Armstrong Fertility Institute.

And as for the public, she’d already learned that they were mercurial, as fast to revere as to condemn. All it took were the right words in the right place to achieve either reaction. For the time being, it served her purpose to give the Armstrongs a little something to put in the plus column.

Her mouth curved as she thought about it. If everything went according to plan, this would amount to the calm before the storm. Because, if her information turned out to be correct, she intended to bring the Armstrong Fertility Institute down so fast, the pompous family would wind up choking on the dust that was kicked up.

She crossed back to the desk and sat down to work. Pausing just for a moment to find the right first word, her fingers soon flew across the keyboard, trying to keep up with her racing brain and coming in a close second.

Engrossed in wording the release so that it would pop as a whole, Ramona didn’t hear the knock on her door. She also wasn’t aware of that same door being opened a beat later.

Paul slipped in unobtrusively, a considerable feat for a man who measured six foot one. But then, he had the kind of quiet, easygoing manner that allowed him to blend in with the scenery at will. Unlike his outgoing brother, who had never been known to fade into the background, even for a moment, in his entire life. The very act would have been against everything that Derek stood for.

She looked diligent, Paul observed, completely involved in her work. She was obviously intent on doing a good job.

Maybe Derek had been right in hiring this young woman after all, he mused. Maybe a public-relations spokesperson was exactly what they needed to give them that much-needed shot in the arm. Good works didn’t count for very much if no one knew you did them, and the public, fickle at best in their loyalties, couldn’t exactly be expected to embrace something if they didn’t know about it.

Paul took a step forward and cleared his throat.

The sound caught her attention and Ramona raised her eyes. The next moment she was clamping her lips together, stifling a gasp. When had Armstrong come in? “How long have you been standing there?”

A slight smile curved his mouth. “Long enough to discover that you nibble on your lower lip when you’re thinking—or was that fretting?”

Fretting. Now, there was a word she hadn’t heard in—well, maybe forever. This man definitely had stepped out of the last century. Quite possibly the first half of the last century, she speculated.

“No, no ‘fretting,’” she answered with a straight face. “You were right the first time. I was just thinking something through. Don’t worry. There’s nothing in what I’m writing that should stir up any kind of concern.” She gestured toward the screen, which, given its position, only she could see right now. “It’s just the institute doctors’ backgrounds, plus I’ve added a little family history for each of them.”

Personal histories had never really interested him all that much. They were just fillers, padding that was easily eliminated. It was what a person did, not who their parents were, that mattered. Though he had to admit that maybe his own background tainted his view of things.

Still, he asked, “Do you think that’s really necessary?”

As far as she was concerned, a person’s history was the most interesting part. She always wanted to know what made people tick, how they got to be the way they were. She sincerely doubted that she was alone in this.

“People like to know who they’re dealing with. It makes the whole challenging process of fertility treatment a little more down-to-earth for them—and a little less like science fiction.”

Leaning back in what she hoped would continue to be her chair for at least a modest amount of time, Ramona did her best to appear relaxed. The very act belied the knots in her stomach. She laced her fingers before her and tried to sound cheerful as she asked, “So, what’s the verdict?”

Technically, there was no official verdict yet. He told her what was happening. “I managed to send Derek to Lisa to apologize.”

Well, that didn’t sound very heartening. “For hiring me?” she asked. This would be the part where she would have gotten up and told him what he could do with his apology. But she wasn’t being herself, she was being a subservient employee. She assumed that was what Paul Armstrong wanted and she was willing to go along with it, as long as it eventually got her access to the archives.

“For hiring you without consulting with the rest of us,” Paul corrected.

That still didn’t give her the answer she was hoping for. “So you’re letting me go?” she guessed. She had trouble envisioning the woman who belonged to that cold voice over the phone giving her a thumbs-up. Even so, there was absolutely no way she was going to go without a fight. “Because if you are, Dr. Armstrong, you’re going to regret it.”

“Are you threatening me, Miss Tate?” he asked quietly.

“No, I’m telling you that you need me,” she responded with feeling. “I’m very good at my job.” Ramona straightened and squared her shoulders.

She made him think of a warrior princess. He had no idea where that had come from, only that it seemed like a very appropriate description.

“I’d like you to read what I’ve been writing before you have security eject me.”

Paul held up his hand to stop her before her mouth launched into double time. The woman was already talking faster than he could listen. He had a feeling that, like Derek, Ramona Tate could talk with the best of them, easily winning battles simply by wearing her opposition down.

“No one’s ejecting you, Miss Tate,” he assured her. “You have a temporary stay of execution.”

The surprise came and went from her face in an instant. Had he blinked, Paul suspected he wouldn’t have seen it at all.

“How temporary?” she wanted to know, banking down her eagerness.

“That remains to be seen,” he told her. It depended on whether she actually got results that would do them any good. For now, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Why don’t we just take this one step at a time, shall we?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, an opportunity to prove myself to you—whichever ‘you’ I happen to be talking to,” she added with an amused smile. Rising, she cocked her head just a tad as she peered at him closely, her eyes swiftly taking inventory and reviewing everything she noted. And then she made her decision. “You’re Dr. Paul,” she declared with just a hint of triumph.

He hid his amusement. “What makes you so certain?” he asked.

Even though he felt that there was a world of difference between his brother and him, Paul knew that as far as looks went, he and Derek were close to interchangeable unless they were standing beside one another. It was only then that someone might notice that Derek was thinner, while he looked as if he availed himself of the gym’s facilities whenever he could, which he did.

When they were younger, both of their parents managed to confuse one with the other, in part, Paul suspected, because neither parent ever really took the time to get to know either of them. Although, if he thought about it, Paul had a feeling that if his parents had taken the time, it would only have been Derek who would have garnered their focused attention.

It wasn’t only the squeaky wheel that got greased, it was the noisy, silver-tongued brother who ultimately got all the attention.

Ramona smiled up at him. The smile penetrated clear down to his bones. “Your eyes.”

He waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “What about my eyes?” he pressed. He fully expected her to say something to the effect that they were dull, that Derek was the one whose eyes looked as if they held a host of secrets and the promise of excitement.

But she surprised him. “You’re the one with the kind eyes,” Ramona said. “Your brother’s eyes are … unfathomable.”

Maybe she didn’t have such a happy way with words after all. Paul interpreted her meaning. “So Derek is the man of mystery while I’m the flat, two-dimensional one.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together into a V. She looked surprised at his interpretation of her assessment.

“Not at all,” she protested. “On an absolute level, you’d be the one who people would trust, Dr. Armstrong, not your brother. They’d go to him looking for a good time, not honesty.”

Ramona firmly believed that it was never too early to begin laying groundwork in order to build a viable relationship. That was her goal at the moment to build a connection with Paul. She could accomplish more at a quicker pace if she had one of the Armstrongs in her corner, and Paul, although reserved, struck her as the one who was more real, more open. She had the feeling that Derek had his own, private agenda, one he meant to pursue no matter what. A man like that couldn’t be manipulated.

Besides, Derek Armstrong was far too into himself to be of any use to her.

Paul shook his head ever so slightly. “I already said you had a temporary stay of execution, Miss Tate. There’s no need to try to flatter me.”

Annoyed with herself that she’d come across so transparent, nonetheless Ramona managed to rally quickly. “I wasn’t flattering, I was telling it the way I saw it,” she informed him simply.

She might have given him a simple answer, Paul mused, but he had the impression that this woman was anything but that. As a matter of fact, he would have been willing to say that, despite declarations of honesty and truth, there was something Ramona Tate was keeping back.

The fleeting thought intrigued him.

In case she believed he was fishing for more validation, he changed the subject. “By the way, about your references—”

Ramona was one jump ahead of him. She’d learned that a good defense was to have a good offense. “I have them right here.” Reaching for her oversize purse, she pulled it toward her, then flipped the locks open. “Your brother said he’d be getting around to reviewing them eventually, but I think they should be a matter of record, don’t you?” Taking out a light blue file that contained more than a few letters of praise, she offered the folder to him. “There’s also a copy of my academic transcript and employment history,” she told him.

Taking the folder, Paul opened it and scanned a few of the pages. There were letters from college professors and from news editors, some of whom had the logos of local TV stations stamped on them. One was from the Washington Post. He’d expected one letter, perhaps two. If asked, he would have said that she was too young for more than that.

“And you said that you were just twenty-five?” he asked incredulously.

Maybe Monty had laid it on a little thick, Ramona thought. Monty Durham was the computer geek/wizard she’d befriended in her first year in college. He’d been so grateful to have someone to talk to, he became Sancho Panza to her female Don Quixote. There wasn’t anything that Monty couldn’t make a computer do, including spew out lies and make them look like gospel. There also wasn’t anything that Monty wouldn’t do for her.

“I graduated two years early,” she told Paul by way of an explanation.

Which was true. Eager to start leaving her mark in the world, Ramona had opted for an accelerated course of study. It had allowed her to crunch four years of high school into three and then do the same with college. To make it work, she’d attended school year-round, picking up courses part-time in the summer. In her spare time, she had also worked any job in her field she could get her hands on. That in turn gave her a much-needed solid core for her résumé. Monty had done the rest, embellishing where he could. He was also responsible for half the letters of recommendation in the folder.

She was unusual, Paul decided, he’d give her that. “In my experience, most people like to extend their college experience if they can.”

“Maybe so,” she allowed. “But I wanted to get started with my life,” she countered. “College was great,” she added quickly, not wanting him to think she was bucking for some kind of sainthood, “but college isn’t life. It’s more like the TV version.” Angling the monitor so that it turned in his direction, Ramona realized that she’d come full circle and made the offer again. “Would you like to read what I’ve written so far?”

That would probably be the best way to determine whether or not she could actually do them some good, he thought. Or if having her around was just Derek’s way of having eye candy on hand.

“Actually, I would.”

Smiling, she hit the key combination that caused the wireless printer in the corner to come to life. Within moments, it produced the four pages she’d composed. Ramona crossed to the machine and removed the sheets, then returned and handed them to Paul.

And that was when he realized that he’d gotten caught up in watching her move, and Paul found that for once he couldn’t fault his brother for admiring Ramona’s looks. He had to admit, the sway of her hips was something to behold. It was enough to even make a man believe in Santa Claus.