Prescription for Romance Page 13

  “Anything else in your briefcase, like coffee? Or a shower?” she asked longingly. She could use both—and a toothbrush, she thought, running her tongue over her teeth.

  Paul smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, just these two energy bars.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she told him. And then a thought hit her. “Unless you’re not planning on sharing them with me.”

  “Actually, you can have them both.” Paul deposited the energy bars next to her on the sofa. “I’m really not hungry.”

  The hell he wasn’t, she thought. He was just making that up so that she wouldn’t feel guilty eating both bars. She might be incredibly hungry, but she still had a conscience.

  “Oh, don’t get all heroic on me. How can you not be hungry?” she wanted to know. “If you don’t have something, you’re going to start nibbling on the first thing you find—like me.”

  His smile widened. “Not completely without merit.”

  The bars were identical. Raspberry flavored with chocolate drizzled over them. She picked up the one closest to her. “I bet you say that to all the girls you fool around with in the vault.”

  The very memory made him smile more broadly. It took effort not to pick up where they had left off last night. “That would be a minuscule number—as in one.”

  Ramona smiled at that, and, as he’d already noted more than once, her smile seemed to light up the entire area.

  She looked down at the lab coat. “I think I’d better get dressed before I start in on this little feast,” she quipped, nodding at the energy bar.

  “Right.”

  Before she could ask, Paul turned his back to her, allowing her a little privacy, even though what he really wanted to do was tell her that she didn’t need to get dressed again. Just looking at her stirred up other hungers. He tried to think of other things.

  And remembered. “You said something last night about looking to see if you had any siblings.”

  “Yes,” she answered guardedly.

  “You realize that means invading the privacy of former patients.”

  For a second, she stopped tugging on her blouse. She knew all about those ramifications, but her cause was too precious, too important to let those concerns make her back off.

  Was Paul going to stand in her way after all? “Yes,” she replied haltingly, watching his back.

  “You’re going to have to proceed very cautiously,” Paul warned her. “Otherwise, you’re going to be leaving yourself—and the institute—open to a lot of legal red tape, not to mention the possibility of being sued by former patients if you wind up approaching them.”

  She released the breath she was holding. He wasn’t telling her not to do it, he was telling her to be careful.

  “I understand.” Gratitude mingled with relief all through her. “You can turn around now,” she told him. “I’m dressed.”

  More’s the pity. Paul’s expression never gave him away as he faced her again. “All right then, let’s get to it,” he said.

  She was left to wonder what “it” was for only the briefest of seconds. Paul crossed back to the files and she realized that he was going to help her look. Energy bar in her hand, she scrambled to her feet.

  Guilt almost got the better of her. Guilt because she hadn’t been completely honest with him about her intentions.

  The photographs she’d been taking weren’t meant to be used as background material for a feature highlighting the positive side of the Armstrong Fertility Institute’s history the way she’d told him. They were to cast light on its dark side. On the practice of substituting viable eggs and sperm for the ones that would never successfully produce a healthy child.

  “I need to know the name your mother used when she made her donation,” Paul was saying to her as she joined him. “Plus the year the procedure was done and, if possible, the name of any doctor she might have had contact with at the institute.” He looked at the boxes of files before him. “The information we’re looking for could be filed under any number of names,” he told her.

  Despite her inner turmoil, at the moment Ramona was busy savoring the taste of the energy bar she’d just unwrapped. It took a great deal of control not to wolf it down in three bites, but she managed to hold herself in check.

  “There was no doctor’s name on the statement,” she told him. “And I don’t recall the date, but I do remember the year.” She gave it to him. “And I remember that my mother had used her maiden name, which struck me as odd at the time. It was Katherine Donnelly.” She pressed her lips together. “Not much to go on, but—”

  Ramona stopped midsentence. Was that a noise behind her? Her heart leaped. If she didn’t know any better, she would have said it sounded as if someone was opening the vault door. But that was probably just wishful thinking on her part.

  Even so, she crumpled up the empty wrapper and ran toward the steel door, bracing herself for disappointment. Paul, she realized, was right behind her.

  “You heard it, too,” she cried.

  He had no time to answer.

  The door was opening.

  In less than a heartbeat, Ramona and he found themselves looking at Derek. It was hard, Paul thought, to say who looked more surprised, him or his twin. While beside him Ramona cried a relieved “Thank God,” both he and his brother echoed the same question.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Derek, though, followed up his question with another one. His brother looked from him to Ramona and made no effort to hide a knowing grin. “Did I just interrupt something?”

  It was Ramona who immediately answered. “Yes, suffocation.”

  On the heels of that, Paul explained, “We got locked in.” But he saw that it wasn’t enough. There was suspicion on his twin’s face, that and an expression that bordered on a smirk. He knew the way Derek’s mind worked. His twin was a womanizer and saw the world in those terms. “I came down to find some old files I wanted to check out for a report I was writing. Ramona is a great researcher, so I brought her with me to assist.”

  Maybe it was a good thing that there was no breeze down here, Ramona thought, because if there had been, it could have knocked her over just now. She only barely managed to keep her surprise from showing as she stopped short of contesting Paul’s words.

  The man was protecting her reputation. Somehow, without knowing it, she’d managed to stumble across an old-fashioned knight in shining armor.

  “And you?” Paul was asking his brother. “Why did you come down here?”

  Instantly, another smile popped up. Derek’s smile was all encompassing—and fake. Paul knew his twin far too well to be taken in by it. Still, he didn’t bother to challenge his brother when Derek told him, “I just wanted to see how far back the files in the archives went. I was curious,” he ended a bit lamely. “Keeping up with files wasn’t exactly Dad’s forte.”

  Paul let that slide, as well. He’d ask Derek more questions when they were alone. He owed his brother the courtesy of that rather than cornering him in front of someone outside the family.

  Derek deftly turned the conversation back on them. “How did you get locked in?”

  He was looking at Ramona when he asked the question, Paul noted.

  “Long story,” Paul answered. “Right now, all I want is a shower and a change of clothes. And something to eat that doesn’t belong in the granola family.”

  “Ditto,” Ramona chimed in with feeling. She was already turning on her heel to leave. Paul was quick to fall into step beside her.

  Derek hung back as they walked out. He deliberately waited until his brother and Ramona had boarded the elevator and the doors had closed, separating him from them.

  Satisfied that they were gone, Derek got down to business.

  There were secrets down here in the old files, he thought, secrets that had to be worth something to someone. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t go this far. But he had no choice. He was desperate enough to use anything at his disposal, w
hether it was ethical or not. Because, in the long run, it meant his life.

  “We didn’t get the information you were looking for,” Paul said to her once the elevator doors opened on the first floor.

  Getting off, Ramona was acutely aware of that fact. “I know.” She couldn’t have exactly gone rummaging around with his brother standing there. “I’ll go back as soon as I can if you don’t mind, but right now, I just want to assure myself that the sun is still in the sky and I can take in as much air as I want.”

  He smiled and reminded her, “You could in the vault, too.”

  Considering that the circumstances could have contributed to a complete breakdown on her part, she had a lot to be grateful to him for. “Logically, yes. But being claustrophobic doesn’t have anything to do with logic. I really want to thank you for helping me get through that ordeal in one piece.”

  She saw him smile again and marveled at how the expression completely transformed him. Gone was the somber chief of staff. In his place was the young, sensually attractive man he somehow managed to keep hidden during the normal span of the day. The man who had made love with her last night, who had made her forget her fears.

  “It was a dirty job,” Paul responded, tongue in cheek, “but someone had to do it.” And then he sobered slightly, as if the topic he was about to bring up deserved a display of decorum. “When do you want to come back to look for your mother’s records?”

  She glanced at her watch. It was a little after nine in the morning. “Would one o’clock be all right?”

  It was Saturday. He had no firm plans for today. Spending time with her would definitely brighten it. “Fine. I can pick you up at your apartment if you like—”

  She hadn’t expected that. “You’re coming, too?” Ramona didn’t even try to hide her surprise. Why did he want to come with her? Was it because he still didn’t trust her?

  Paul nodded in answer to her question. “Two sets of eyes searching through the boxes will cut your time in half.”

  Relief briefly passed over her before guilt set in. He was being noble again. God, he was going to hate her once the other shoe dropped.

  The thought weighed heavily on her. Far more heavily than when she thought she was trapped inside the vault and her claustrophobia had bordered on becoming unmanageable. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but she really did want to be in the archives alone. She hadn’t finished researching the topics she was being paid to flush out.

  “Are you sure I’m not taking you away from something?”

  “Very sure.”

  Paul resisted the impulse to slip his arm around her shoulders and pull her to him just for a moment. He didn’t want to crowd her, but he had to admit to himself that there was something special about her. Something he wanted to explore. He’d never felt like this before about a woman. He wanted to see if it was the beginning of something wondrous, or if, like those old songs that littered musicals more than half a century ago, it was “just one of those things” that would eventually just fade away.

  He wasn’t a man anyone could ever accuse of being impulsive, but he allowed impulse to take over now. “Want to stop somewhere for a proper breakfast?” he asked her.

  It was on the tip of Ramona’s tongue to say no. The more she got involved with this man, the worse her lie of omission was going to seem to him. He was going to be furious with her and she was certain that there was nothing she could say that would convince him that she wasn’t trying to use him.

  Because, initially, she had.

  He’s going to think that no matter what, she silently argued. She might as well enjoy what little time she had with him before the earthquake hit.

  Nodding, she said, “Sounds good to me.”

  “Then let’s go.” He ushered her toward the front entrance. “I know this really great place that’s open 24/7. Food just like mother used to make. At least,” he amended as they stepped outside the doors, “your mother.”

  She looked at him. Bits and pieces were falling into place and he was becoming progressively more and more human to her. A good man who didn’t deserve to be betrayed. “Didn’t your mother cook?”

  He laughed shortly. “I’m not sure my mother could find the kitchen with a compass. She’s a Stanton,” he told her. “Stantons, according to my mother, were born above menial things like cooking and other family-involved enterprises. They had a social standing to maintain, charity balls to throw and attend.”

  Ramona could feel her heart going out to him. What a lonely child he must have been. More than ever she was grateful for her mother—and more determined than ever to find the information that might save her life. “I am so sorry, Paul.”

  He believed her. He hadn’t said it to make her pity him. Paul shrugged her sympathy away. “When you do without, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  The same, he added silently, could be said about lovemaking. His previous experiences had convinced him that lovemaking and everything that went with it was way too overrated. Without emotion, sex for its own sake wasn’t satisfying for him.

  But he didn’t feel that way anymore, not since Ramona had all but knocked his socks off last night.

  He stopped by his parking space. Since it was Saturday, the lot was nearly empty. Ramona’s vehicle was parked several yards away. “Do you want me to drive, or do you want to follow?”

  She wouldn’t have thought that Paul was sensitive to this extent. He was giving her a choice. Ordinarily, she would have said that a man like Paul was accustomed to making decisions and giving orders without regard for other people’s feelings.

  God, was she ever wrong about this man.

  And maybe, just maybe, all these rumors that were flying around about the Armstrong Fertility Institute, his “baby,” were just that. Rumors. Baseless rumors.

  At least she could hope.

  “I can appreciate the fact that you haven’t written up your notes yet into any kind of final draft, but what, exactly, do you have?” Walter Jessup’s voice crackled over her landline.

  Ramona felt her heart sink in her chest. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have now, but she knew she couldn’t put her editor off. That was why she’d picked up the phone despite having caller ID and seeing his name on the LCD screen.

  Big mistake.

  After sharing a prolonged breakfast with Paul and discovering that the man she’d made soul-satisfying love with was a fascinating man in so many different ways, she’d all but floated home, humming off-key and grinning like some silly, love-struck schoolgirl.

  Love-struck. Good word, she thought with amusement. Softer than being struck by lightning, but just as powerful.

  What a difference a few hours had made in her world, she’d mused with a sigh as she’d unlocked the door to her apartment.

  The plan had been to take a quick shower, change and meet Paul back at the institute, where he was going to help search for her mother’s file.

  Which meant that she couldn’t do any other research, but that was okay with her. Her mother took precedence over that.

  But she couldn’t come out and say that to the man who was presently losing his temper on the other end of the line. The man whose call she shouldn’t have taken.

  Ramona tried to placate Jessup as best she could. For better or for worse, he was, after all, her boss. “I went through their old files—”

  Jessup’s mood instantly shifted. “Fantastic! Knew you’d come through. And what did you find out?”

  She stifled a sigh and did her best to sound as positive as she could without giving him anything. “I’m not sure yet. I just took pictures of a number of the files. I haven’t had a chance to go through any of them yet.” She crossed her fingers that that would be the end of it for now.

  It wasn’t. “E-mail the files to me,” Jessup instructed.

  “But I just said I haven’t read them yet.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she didn’t want to hand the man anything he could actually use unti
l she sorted it—and her own feelings—out. “It could all be nothing. I’ve just got a few rough notes to go with my research.”

  “I understand all that,” Jessup barked impatiently. “I also understand that I sign your paychecks and I’d at least like to see some kind of return for the money that’s been invested in this project. Now, e-mail those damn photographs to me. Do I make myself clear, Tate?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He had a perfect right to ask. He did, as he said, sign her paychecks. But that didn’t stop her from putting conditions on her cooperation. She owed it to Paul, not because she’d slept with him, but because it was the decent thing to do. In her rush to find her mother’s file and to earn as much money as she could to help defray her mother’s medical expenses, she’d almost forgotten the meaning of that word. Decent. Her mother would have been heartbroken if she’d known.

  “All right, Walter. But you have to promise to let me do the story my way. Don’t give any of this information to some third-rate hack out to do a hatchet job on the institute just because he can.”

  She heard the editor pause for a long moment. The silence worked its way into her nerves. And then she heard him grind out the words “All right.”

  Ramona wasn’t convinced. “Your word, Walter. I want your word.”

  There was no indication of any emotion, good or bad, in Jessup’s voice. He said, “You have my word,” as if he was reading the words off a cue card.

  “I’m holding you to that, Walter.”

  “Fine. And I’ll be on the lookout for those photographs. Be sure you send them, Tate.” The threat in his voice was barely veiled. The next moment, Jessup broke the connection.

  Ramona hung up the phone and went to her desk.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was making a mistake as she sat, holding the small, plug-in camera in her hand, waiting for her computer to power up. But there was little else she could do. She was going to have to send Jessup the files.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was a little over a week later when Lisa burst into Paul’s office like a petite hurricane. He looked up, silently wondering if a refresher course on doors, doorknobs and their function in the scheme of things might not be out of order.