Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set

  “I’d love to.”

  “Well, we could use the extra hands.” Shannon walked into the nursery, still talking. “This is, and I quote, ‘highly irregular,’ but I talked long and hard and got the okay from my supervisor who, in turn, worked it out with admin. So we’re all set.” She handed Chandra gloves and a mask. “You can scrub up in the lavatory, and once you’ve donned all these glamorous accessories—come back. Believe me, your little guy will be hungry….”

  Your little guy. If only. Chandra scrubbed her hands and arms and yanked on her gloves. The smell of antiseptic and newborn babies reminded her of her own practice. She’d been happy back then, treating the patients, getting to know their mothers, fitting into the cozy community of Collier, Tennessee and thinking she would put down roots and start her own family.

  But Doug had had other ideas….

  “Hey, you look like one of us!” Shannon said as Chandra walked out of the washroom. “And look who’s waiting….”

  “J.D.,” Chandra said, grinning behind the paper mask. “How’re ya, pumpkin?” She took the little bundle eagerly, held his tiny, wriggling body close to hers. Nurse Pratt handed her a bottle of formula, and the baby, still blinking up at Chandra, began to suckle hungrily. Tiny little noises, grunts of pleasure, accompanied the slurping sound as he tugged on the nipple.

  “You’ve named him?”

  Chandra, startled, jumped and the bottle came out of J.D.’s tiny mouth. He let up a wail that could put a patient in cardiac arrest. Quickly, she nudged the nipple back between the baby’s tiny lips. “I’m sorry,” she said to Shannon, “I was so into this, I forgot you were there. And, yes, I decided he needed a name.”

  “Well, I think it’s a much better name than Baby John Doe.” With a twinkle in her eye, she hurried back to the nursery and, with a black marking pen, wrote “J.D.” in large letters on the tag of his bassinet.

  Chandra smiled. For the first time since she’d moved to Ranger two years before, she felt a part of the community. Living as she did, miles out of town, meeting only a few townspeople at the market or at work, she hadn’t cultivated many friends. Most of the people she dealt with were tourists who wanted a thrill before returning to their cities and nine-to-five jobs. A few returned from one year to the next, but her only real contacts with people in town were the men she worked with.

  The nurses and staff of the hospital seemed special. She wondered if it was the hospital surroundings. For the first time since she left Collier, she wondered if leaving her profession had been the right choice.

  * * *

  SO SHE WAS HERE. Again. Being set up for a fall. Dallas saw Chandra with the baby, this time taking a bottle from him and swaying gently, brushing the top of his downy head with her lips.

  Was she out of her mind? Didn’t she know she was playing Russian roulette with her emotions? Yet he, too, could feel the tug on his heartstrings, the unlikely and unwanted pull of tenderness for the child. Seeing them together, she cradling the little dark head so close to her breast, the baby nuzzling closer, caused a tightness in his chest and a deep sadness that he would never be a father, never a husband. He’d tried once and failed.

  The familiar metallic taste of loathing filled his throat when he remembered his wife and her betrayal. Though he hadn’t loved her as he should have, he’d been faithful to her and fair, and he’d cared about her. And she’d driven a knife into his heart, cutting him so deeply, the scar would never heal. He’d never feel free to love someone like Chandra, to father her children….

  He coughed loudly. What the hell was he doing even thinking such ludicrous thoughts? It was one thing to fantasize about making love to her, to consider bedding her and having a quick affair that would end as surely as had his own brief marriage. But to consider a lifetime together, marriage and children? What in God’s name was wrong with him?

  Clearing his throat, he approached her. She turned, and the sight of her hair fanning her face nearly undid all his hard-fought resolutions to keep away from her. Her lips moved slightly, smiling at the sight of him.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she said, and he realized that she’d somehow become dependent upon him.

  This very headstrong, independent woman was beginning to trust him, and he thought guiltily of his detective friend digging into her past. He could call off the investigation, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to know more about her. She seemed to have brushed their episode in the barn from her mind.

  She said breathlessly, “I just talked to Dr. Williams. They’re releasing J.D. tomorrow.”

  “So it’s been decided.”

  “’Morning, Doctor.” Shannon emerged from the nursery and turned her attention to Chandra. “Here, let me change him.”

  “He hasn’t burped yet,” Chandra protested, drawing her fine eyebrows together.

  “That’s all right.” Nurse Pratt wriggled her nose at the tiny baby. “We’ll take care of it, won’t we? And I’ll take your lovely accessories…” Shannon accepted the baby, bottle, gloves and mask from Chandra, and after a few quick words with Dallas about a peculiarly obstinate patient in CICU, carried J.D. back to the nursery.

  Dallas took the crook of Chandra’s arm in his broad hand and pulled her gently toward the nurses’ station. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the baby. He’ll be in good hands.”

  “How do you know?” She stopped short, looking up at him. “What do you know?”

  “Rumor is that the child will be placed in temporary custody of the Newells.”

  “The sheriff?”

  “He and his wife, Lenore. She’s a part-time nurse here and they’ve done this sort of thing before. Lenore’s known for taking in stray dogs, cats and opening their home to runaways or children who are waiting to be placed in more permanent quarters.”

  Anxiously, Chandra bit her lower lip and Dallas experienced a sudden urge to kiss her and tug on that very lip. “Come here,” he said, all thoughts of denying himself long gone. He pulled her around a corner and down a short hallway to a quieter part of the floor. At the end of the hall, in the landing of the emergency stairs, he tugged on her hand, yanking her hard against him. She gasped, and he captured her lips with his. Seeing the startled look on her face, the surprise in her wide, gray-green eyes, he expected her to frantically push away, but she didn’t resist.

  His mouth moved over hers, and she leaned against him, circling his waist with her arms, her breasts crushed against the hard expanse of his chest. This time she seemed to melt against his body. He twisted his hands in her hair and played with her lower lip, touching it with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth.

  Chandra’s heart thumped crazily. What was he thinking, kissing her here, in broad daylight, where at any minute—Her senses reeled, her body reacted and a tingling blush suffused her skin. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the smell and touch and taste of him. There was the faint odor of chlorine that clung to his skin, the smell of soap. And his hair was still damp. Somewhere, faraway, a metal cart rattled.

  “What the hell am I going to do with you?” he muttered into her hair, breathing deeply, his heart drumming so loudly, she could hear the wild beat.

  Before she could answer, he kissed her again, long and hard, creating a whirlpool of emotions inside her. She sighed into his open mouth, and his tongue touched hers before he closed his mouth and every muscle in his body tensed. He dropped his hands to his sides then, and she nearly fell over.

  “What?” she asked, before seeing that his eyes, now open, were focused on something or someone standing just beyond Chandra’s shoulder.

  Chandra turned and found herself gazing into the flushed face of Nurse Alma Lindquist. “Excuse me,” the big nurse said, obviously embarrassed. “I, uh, well, I’m looking for you, Doctor, and Shannon said she saw you goin’ down this hall.” She turned her gaze to Chandra. “She didn’t mention—”

  “What is it?” Dallas was all business, and Chandra felt like crawling into a hole
. Caught like a couple of lusty teenagers—by Alma Lindquist, of all people. Alma’s eyebrows were arched over her glasses, and a tiny I-got-you grin was barely visible on her face. Chandra was absolutely mortified.

  “Dr. Warren isn’t in yet, and I need to get into the medications for E.R. However, if you’re busy—”

  “I’ll be right there,” Dallas said, his eyes glittering as Alma tried and failed to smother her knowing smile. She sauntered off down the hall, and Chandra’s face felt red-hot.

  “This was a mistake,” Dallas said, jamming his hands through his hair and shaking his head. “Look, I can’t get involved with anyone. It just wouldn’t work.”

  “I don’t remember asking you,” Chandra replied, though his words stung.

  “But you haven’t exactly been backing off, have you?”

  “I’ve done nothing to encourage you,” she reminded him, wounded. “You came on the rafting trip. I didn’t invite you.”

  “My brother—”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. And you showed up at my house the other night—and barged into my barn. Again without an engraved invitation.”

  “And you camp out here at the hospital.”

  “Because of the baby!” she shot back, knowing in her heart what she would never admit to him. “Don’t you understand?” she said instead. “J.D. means everything to me!”

  “Oh, Chandra…” he said, and a dark emotion flickered in his eyes.

  “And don’t give me all the reasons I shouldn’t try to adopt him, because I’m going to,” she replied, embarrassed and angry and frustrated. She tossed her hair over her shoulders.

  “You’re serious about adopting him?” Dallas asked, obviously skeptical.

  She wished she could call back the words, but the damage was done. There was no reason to play coy. “I hope to. I’ve already told my attorney to draw up the necessary papers. I’ll petition the court—”

  “And what did your attorney say?”

  “Well, after he tried to talk me out of it,” she replied, sliding the doctor a glance, “he told me I’d better go about increasing my chances.”

  “How?”

  “By getting married.”

  Dallas blanched. Rock solid, all-business Dr. Dallas O’Rourke actually lost his color. Good! Chandra had the feeling O’Rourke needed to be shaken up once in a while.

  “That’s right, Doctor, I guess I’m in the market for a husband.” She straightened her blouse. “Seems that the courts will look more kindly on a couple rather than a single woman.”

  “You’re joking!” He was absolutely stricken, and Chandra’s heart nosedived.

  “Only about being in the marriage market,” she said. “But I’m not going to let any prejudice against single women stop me. If I have to fight this through the Supreme Court, I will.”

  “Or get married?”

  “That was a joke, Doctor,” she said, and then decided to drop the bomb. “I was married once. It wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

  He didn’t move, but his eyes didn’t leave hers and she silently counted her heartbeats. “Maybe you married the wrong man,” he finally said.

  “I did,” she admitted, quivering at the thought of discussing her short-lived marriage with him. Once the divorce had been finalized, she’d never spoken of Doug or her marriage to anyone. Not even to her family. “But even if I did marry the wrong guy, I’m not sure I would recognize the right one if he landed on my doorstep.”

  “Oh, Ms. Hill, I think you would.”

  She lifted a shoulder dismissively. “I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. See you later,” she said breezily, as if his passionate kiss and harsh words hadn’t bothered her in the least. With a forced smile, she turned and left him there, trying not to notice that the taste of his lips still lingered on hers.

  * * *

  DALLAS TRIED TO IGNORE the fact that he was jealous—of a man whose name he didn’t know. Whoever Chandra’s ex-husband was, he was a damned fool.

  Now, as Dallas folded his arms over his chest, he tried to keep his thoughts on the business at hand, which was his patient. “The nurses say you’ve been giving them trouble, Mr. Hastings.”

  “Call me Ned. And don’t give me no guff about not takin’ those pills. I’ve lived eighty-five years without takin’ pills, and I’m not about to start now.”

  “Even though you’re in intensive care and have had one heart attack already? All the medication does is help regulate your heartbeat.”

  Ned scratched his head, his mottled scalp showing through thin gray hair. “I know you’re just doin’ your job, Doc, and I ‘preciate it, but I don’t need any goldurn pills to keep my ticker from conkin’ out.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “And about those nurses of yours. Always fussin’ over me. Pokin’ and proddin’ and cluckin’ their tongues. You’re lucky I’m still in this hospital.”

  Dallas swallowed a smile. The old coot was lovable in his own way. But stubborn. “I don’t think you’re being realistic about your health.”

  “Hell, I didn’t get to my age by lyin’ in a hospital, with tubes run through my body and pills bein’ stuck in my mouth every hour of the day. I live alone, I’m proud of it, and I don’t need no mamby-pamby women stewin’ over me.”

  “I see he’s his usual jovial self,” Lenore Newell said. She placed the thermometer into a disposable cover, and with a smile, stuck the thermometer under Mr. Hasting’s tongue. “This should keep you quiet a while,” she said.

  He sputtered, but didn’t spit the thermometer out as Dallas had expected.

  Nurse Newell took the old man’s pulse and, while eyeing her watch, added, “Some people would think spending a few days being pampered by women would be heaven.”

  “Humph,” Ned growled around the thermometer. “They’re just plain stupid or they haven’t been in this damned place,” he mumbled.

  “Shh,” she ordered, winking at the doctor as she waited for the beep and digital readout of her patient’s temperature.

  “Keep giving him the medication,” Dallas said, seeing the glint of fondness in the old man’s glare. “And don’t take any abuse from this guy.”

  Hastings’s thick eyebrows shot up.

  “I’ll be back,” Dallas promised him. As he left the room, he heard Ned Hastings still growling around the thermometer.

  Lenore caught up with Dallas in the staff lounge. “Cantankerous old son of a gun,” she said with a ready smile. Behind big glasses, her eyes gleamed with affection.

  “He keeps life interesting,” Dallas remarked.

  “Don’t they all?”

  Dallas poured himself a cup of coffee while Lenore rummaged through a basket of tea bags. The lounge was nearly empty. Three nurses surrounded a round table by the window, and a couple of residents, who looked as if they’d each pulled thirty-six-hour shifts, were stretched out on the couches, one in scrubs, the other wearing a rumpled lab coat and slacks. Each supported more than a day’s growth of beard and bloodshot eyes.

  “Been here long?” Dallas ventured.

  One of them, the lanky one with long blond hair, shoved a hand through his unruly locks. “Days, weeks, years…I can’t remember.”

  “We came on duty in 1985,” his companion joked. He was shorter and thin, with a moustache and eyes that appeared owlish behind thick glasses.

  “Time for a break,” Dallas suggested.

  “Man, I’m gonna sleep for a week,” the tall one said.

  “Not me. I’m going out for a five-mile jog and set of tennis.”

  “Yeah, right!” They struggled to their feet and headed out the door.

  Dallas stirred his coffee before glancing at Lenore. “I heard you might have another mouth to feed.”

  She smiled. “Yep. The abandoned baby. Judge Reinecke seems to think that the baby would be best at our house, at least for a while. We’ve cared for more than our share of orphans.”

  Dallas stared into his
coffee, not knowing whether he should bring up Chandra or not. Maybe she was better off away from the baby. But he remembered her look of desperation at the thought that the child would be taken away from her. Knowing he might be playing with emotional fire, he nonetheless had to do anything in his power to help her. “Look, there’s a woman, the woman who brought the baby in, Chandra Hill. I know she’d like to visit the baby fairly often.”

  Lenore dunked a tea bag into a steaming cup of water. “I’ve heard about her. Seems she’s pretty attached to the boy.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t hurt for her to drop by.”

  “Of course not. Tell her to stop in anytime.”

  “Lenore! Hey, what’s this I hear about you and the Baby John Doe?” one of the other nurses called over. “You got any room left over there?”

  Dallas took his coffee and left as the two other nurses joined into the conversation. He’d done what he could. Now it was up to Chandra.

  He spent the rest of the day in the hospital and finally, at five, stopped in at pediatrics for one last look at J.D. Holding the child, he sighed. “What’re we gonna do with you?” he wondered aloud. “You’re giving the woman who found you fits, y’know.”

  The baby yawned, as if he were bored to death.

  “Okay, okay,” Dallas said, smiling down at the child. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  He left the infant with a nurse and walked outside. The storm that had threatened earlier had cleared up and the day was dry and warm, no lingering clouds in the sky. Whistling under his breath, he walked to his truck and stopped when he spied his half brother chewing on a toothpick, one lean hip resting against the fender, his knee bent and the sole of one boot pressed against the front tire. A grimy duffle bag had been dropped on the asphalt near the truck.

  “I thought I might have to spend the whole weekend here waiting for you,” Brian said as Dallas approached. As usual, Brian’s cocky grin was in place, his eyes squinting slightly against a lowering sun. His jeans were so faded, they’d ripped through the knees, and the denim across his butt was frayed, on the point of giving way completely. His shirt was bright orange, faded neon, and said simply, SURF’S UP!! diagonally in purple letters that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip.