second-rate taxi service, for God’s sake.
He lowered the magazine to glare at Libby and encountered the Pattersons’ stunned looks instead. Both were regarding him as if he’d falsely posed as the President of the United States or something. Disgusted with them—and even more with Libby—he retired back into his magazine as Barbie asked Libby which doctor she had.
“Dr. Cindy Kanuse.”
Over the top edge of his magazine, Del could see Ken and Barbie exchange another glance. Barbie’s tone took on an even greater superiority as she stated, “I have Dr. Daniel Mitchell.” She giggled. The falsely coy sound made Del grit his teeth, as she elbowed her spouse. “Ken wasn’t too happy about that at first. Not only is Dr. Dan handsome, but he’s single. But I told Ken he’s the best.”
“And I want you to have the best,” Ken replied, patting her hand.
“I’ve met Dr. Dan. He seems very nice,” Libby said.
Nice, hmm? Del’s interest sharpened. Was this the doctor Christine had said was hanging around Libby?
If the guy wasn’t her doctor, why was he so interested in her?
His eyes narrowing, he was pondering the probable answer to the question when the nurse called Libby’s name. She stood and Del caught her wrist lightly to stop her before she left the room. “Don’t forget. I’ll be waiting to come in.”
Her lips tightened. Nodding curtly, she left.
Wide-eyed again, the Pattersons must have decided he was a depraved impostor. They made no more attempts at conversation. Del finished his article in peace, then turned to another about the treatment for sensitive nipples. After finishing that one, though, he put the magazine down, too keyed up to read. What on earth was the holdup? When they’d checked in, the nurse had said he’d be called in after the initial exam. None of the other women had been gone so long. Had they found something wrong with the baby? With Libby?
He shifted restlessly, then finally gave in to the compulsion to pace. After ten minutes of this fruitless exercise, he reached another decision and leaned into the receptionist’s window. The nurse inside glanced up. Aware of Ken and Barbie’s interest, Del lowered his voice, saying, “Excuse me, but my.fiancée wanted me to join her so I could ask the doctor some questions.”
The receptionist nodded. “Perhaps they’ve forgotten. Let me check.”
Ken and Barbie goggled at him, but Del ignored them, following the nurse uninvited. Reaching the door, she knocked briefly, then poked her head in tosay, “Miss Sinclair’s fiancé wanted to ask you a couple of questions, Doctor.”
“Send him in,” Del heard the doctor reply.
The nurse stepped back, almost bumping into Del. She looked surprised to find him there, but smiled and stepped aside so he could enter.
Del walked in. Libby was lying on the examining table, an astonished look on her face. They’d put one of those flimsy hospital gowns on her, and draped a sheet across her lap. The gown gaped open a little, and Del caught a glimpse of the white curve of her belly before she yanked the garment closed and clutched it across the front, anger gathering on her face. Before she could protest his intrusion, Del said quickly to the doctor, “Hello, I’m Del Delaney—the baby’s father. I wanted to find out how Libby’s doing.”
The doctor—a small, attractive brunette in her midthirties with the figure of an eighteen-year-old—swiveled around on the stool upon which she was sitting and gave him a brisk smile. “Glad to meet you, Del. We encourage the fathers to be involved in all stages of the pregnancy. Your help will make things much easier on Libby.”
Turning around again, she waved a slender hand. “So grab a seat and sit down. I’m just locating the baby’s heartbeat.”
Del did as instructed, pulling a straight-backed chair from the wall and straddling it. A gentleman would leave at this point, he knew. It didn’t take a genius to realize by the
He lowered the magazine to glare at Libby and encountered the Pattersons’ stunned looks instead. Both were regarding him as if he’d falsely posed as the President of the United States or something. Disgusted with them—and even more with Libby—he retired back into his magazine as Barbie asked Libby which doctor she had.
“Dr. Cindy Kanuse.”
Over the top edge of his magazine, Del could see Ken and Barbie exchange another glance. Barbie’s tone took on an even greater superiority as she stated, “I have Dr. Daniel Mitchell.” She giggled. The falsely coy sound made Del grit his teeth, as she elbowed her spouse. “Ken wasn’t too happy about that at first. Not only is Dr. Dan handsome, but he’s single. But I told Ken he’s the best.”
“And I want you to have the best,” Ken replied, patting her hand.
“I’ve met Dr. Dan. He seems very nice,” Libby said.
Nice, hmm? Del’s interest sharpened. Was this the doctor Christine had said was hanging around Libby?
If the guy wasn’t her doctor, why was he so interested in her?
His eyes narrowing, he was pondering the probable answer to the question when the nurse called Libby’s name. She stood and Del caught her wrist lightly to stop her before she left the room. “Don’t forget. I’ll be waiting to come in.”
Her lips tightened. Nodding curtly, she left.
Wide-eyed again, the Pattersons must have decided he was a depraved impostor. They made no more attempts at conversation. Del finished his article in peace, then turned to another about the treatment for sensitive nipples. After finishing that one, though, he put the magazine down, too keyed up to read. What on earth was the holdup? When they’d checked in, the nurse had said he’d be called in after the initial exam. None of the other women had been gone so long. Had they found something wrong with the baby? With Libby?
He shifted restlessly, then finally gave in to the compulsion to pace. After ten minutes of this fruitless exercise, he reached another decision and leaned into the receptionist’s window. The nurse inside glanced up. Aware of Ken and Barbie’s interest, Del lowered his voice, saying, “Excuse me, but my.fiancée wanted me to join her so I could ask the doctor some questions.”
The receptionist nodded. “Perhaps they’ve forgotten. Let me check.”
Ken and Barbie goggled at him, but Del ignored them, following the nurse uninvited. Reaching the door, she knocked briefly, then poked her head in tosay, “Miss Sinclair’s fiancé wanted to ask you a couple of questions, Doctor.”
“Send him in,” Del heard the doctor reply.
The nurse stepped back, almost bumping into Del. She looked surprised to find him there, but smiled and stepped aside so he could enter.
Del walked in. Libby was lying on the examining table, an astonished look on her face. They’d put one of those flimsy hospital gowns on her, and draped a sheet across her lap. The gown gaped open a little, and Del caught a glimpse of the white curve of her belly before she yanked the garment closed and clutched it across the front, anger gathering on her face. Before she could protest his intrusion, Del said quickly to the doctor, “Hello, I’m Del Delaney—the baby’s father. I wanted to find out how Libby’s doing.”
The doctor—a small, attractive brunette in her midthirties with the figure of an eighteen-year-old—swiveled around on the stool upon which she was sitting and gave him a brisk smile. “Glad to meet you, Del. We encourage the fathers to be involved in all stages of the pregnancy. Your help will make things much easier on Libby.”
Turning around again, she waved a slender hand. “So grab a seat and sit down. I’m just locating the baby’s heartbeat.”
Del did as instructed, pulling a straight-backed chair from the wall and straddling it. A gentleman would leave at this point, he knew. It didn’t take a genius to realize by the
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