Expecting the Doctor's Baby by Teresa Southwick Page A

about all. And who’s to say Ryan wouldn’t have done that if the job he’d coveted wasn’t on the line? Sam had come along with the “for better or worse” vows. But when the worst happened, he’d used a sad little girl who’d just lost her mother. He agreed that Ryan would have adopted her sooner if he’d really wanted the responsibility. But he hadn’t wanted it.
    Any more than Mitch had wanted to be responsible for his brother.
    The thought crept in and squeezed his chest.
    He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t a son of a bitch like Arnold Ryan. The situation with his brother had been different. Robbie was a drug addict who couldn’t get the monkey off his back and Mitch had made token attempts to help but all of it failed.
    Maybe there was a good reason for that. Maybe he’d never wanted to be his brother’s keeper in the first place.
    He was just like Sam’s stepfather.
    If she had any sense, she would despise him as much as he despised himself.

Chapter Seven
    W ith a quick, irritated flourish of his hand, Mitch scratched notes in a patient’s chart. “It’s Halloween, Sam. Surely there’s something important you have to do.”
    â€œThere is. And I’m doing it right now.”
    â€œCan’t you give it a rest?”
    â€œNo.”
    Leaning an elbow on the high counter at the nurse’s station, he glanced at her. “Why?”
    She straightened the black pointy hat on her head. It went with the gnarled, warty fake nose, green face paint and black cape. She’d been told that the hospital employees got into the spirit of Halloween and dressed up, jobs permitting. Her job permitted, but today hadn’t been easy. There’d been a subtle shift in Mitch, as if he weren’t even trying, as if he’d already fallen short of the mark.
    â€œIt’s important to observe your progress at intervals during the coaching process so we can make any necessary adjustments.”
    He tapped his pen on the chart and met her gaze. “Is that the politically correct way of saying that I’m not making any progress?”
    â€œAbsolutely not.” She shook her head and felt her hat tilt.
    â€œBecause I have. Made progress,” he added. “For instance, I could have called you a witch.” He was doing his best fake innocent act, but the devilish gleam in his eyes gave him away.
    â€œAnd today that would be true in every sense of the word because I’m getting into the spirit of the day.” She pressed her clipboard against her chest. “At the same time I’m giving off a vibe of approachability.”
    â€œAll outward evidence to the contrary.” He tapped her fake nose. “Nice look, by the way. Typecasting?”
    â€œSticks and stones may break my bones but saying mean stuff will not discourage me from doing my job.” She glanced at her notes. “Now that there’s a break in the E.R. action, can we talk about what happened with that earlier patient?”
    â€œYou should have dressed up as a pit bull.”
    â€œTsk, tsk,” she said, wagging her finger. “I’ve got you now, my pretty.”
    â€œNot yet. But, I could easily be had.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
    â€œFocus, Doctor. You remember the little boy who fell and cut his knee?”
    â€œYeah.” He blew out a long breath. “Every news station does a segment on safe Halloween costumes. How is it possible to miss the fact that kids need to be able to see where they’re going when they’re dressed up?”
    â€œIt’s not like that mother pushed him down. She felt horribly guilty about what happened.”
    â€œShe should.”
    â€œShe cares about her child.”
    â€œIf that were true, she’d have paid attention to the warnings and just said no to the full-face rubber werewolf mask that severely restricted his vision.”
    â€œInstead of