Jacqueline Diamond - The Doctor's Little Secret

“Famished,” she noted as she snagged a handful of crackers. “Hey, Doc, you look cute damp. Ever try out for a wet T-shirt contest?”

“Not recently.” He grinned. Around Rachel, he felt surprisingly unselfconscious. He opted for declining Hale’s offer of dry clothes, except for the socks.

As they returned to the patio, the conversation with Mike kept invading his thoughts. Much as Russ yearned to spend more time with Rachel, his first priority had to be his daughter, and that meant doing whatever was necessary to assist her and her mother.

Until this tragedy, Lauren had had a stable two-parent family. Since apparently Janine remained single, Russ didn’t intend to let his little girl grow up without a father.

The more he reflected, the more determined he became not to shirk his responsibility a second time. And not to lose this chance to be part of his daughter’s life, whatever that required.

In the midst of her colleagues, Rachel appeared fully recovered, laughing and joking. Russ wondered if there was any way to see her again. But he couldn’t even consider it until he talked to Janine.

Rachel hadn’t been kidding when she suggested the doc enter a wet T-shirt contest, assuming such things existed for guys. With that shirt stuck to his chest and his hair as rumpled as if he’d just tumbled out of bed, he made her blood race.

“Thanks again for pulling me out of the drink,” she said as she drove him home.

“No problem.” His tone was subdued.

Where were his thoughts, anyway? If fate had a trace of mercy, they’d be focused on her. Normally, Rachel loathed having some guy rescue her butt, and that included the occasions when she and her fellow trainees had taken turns during Police Academy. But even in her dazed state—or maybe because of it—she’d gotten a rush when Russ hoisted her from the pool.

Strong masculine arms encircling her. Warm contact dissolving the chill. He smelled good, too.

Under other circumstances, Rachel might have contemplated the possibility of making love to the guy, but this wasn’t Joe Six-Pack. This guy did funny things to her nervous system, and his sophistication intimidated her a little. Getting involved might mean more than she was ready to handle.

All the same, no point in parting prematurely when they could be enjoying each other’s company. “So, you got plans for the rest of the night?” she asked.

Russ tore his gaze from the passenger window and frowned at the clock on her dash. “Is that accurate? My watch died. I thought it was later.”

In February, evenings always seemed longer due to the early darkness. “Yeah, it’s nine-fifteen. Kinda early to ditch a party, but you seemed antsy.”

At the party they’d viewed a DVD and part of a Lakers game, and had a go at the video console. When she’d noticed Russ’s concentration lagging, Rachel had suggested they decamp.

“Do you suppose it’s too late to place a phone call?” he asked. “I meant to wait till tomorrow, but I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.”

Aha, a clue to his preoccupation. “Depends on the time zone.” Unable to contain her curiosity, she added, “May I ask who?” A girlfriend, perhaps. Might as well hear the bad news sooner than later.

“Ex-girlfriend,” he responded.

The “ex” part appealed to Rachel. But if the woman was truly out of the picture, Russ wouldn’t be planning to call her on a Saturday night, would he? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

To her right, at the old pickling plant, she observed a shadow moving and was about to slow down for a better look when a dog trotted into the lamplight. A short distance off, someone whistled, and the pooch dashed away.

To some cops, off-duty meant blind, deaf and dumb except in cases of dire peril. Rachel’s instincts, however, refused to hibernate on command.

“Do you know much about children?” the doc inquired. If the question related to his ex-girlfriend, he didn’t explain the connection.

“I volunteer at the local homework center. I did a lot of baby-sitting growing up, too.” Rachel waited for enlightenment. This had to be leading somewhere.

“How do you imagine you’d react if…” Russ hesitated. “What I’m about to say is confidential, okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Suppose you’d had a baby girl and given her up for adoption, and then the adoptive parents died and there you were, raising this kid,” he ventured. “Suddenly your ex-boyfriend shows up and says he intends to be part of his daughter’s life. How would you react?”

Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Depends on the guy. If he was an abusive jerk, I’d seek a restraining order.”

“What if he was a decent guy who really cared about being a father?”

Did Russ mean…himself? “I’m not good with imaginary scenarios.” Another point occurred to her. “Anyway, if adoptive parents die, the care doesn’t revert to the birth mom.”

Ahead, Rachel observed a van weaving in its lane and was glad when it swung into an apartment parking lot. Home for the night, she hoped.

Russ cleared his throat. “You’ve probably realized by now that the father is me.”

Well, that certainly erased all doubt. “How did this come about?”

“Janine got pregnant while I was an intern, five years ago.” Warming to the subject, he described the decision to relinquish a child named Lauren and how he’d just learned of her grandparents’ deaths. “I have no idea what Janine’s plans are or whether there’s another guy in the picture. Frankly, that isn’t my concern. I simply want to meet my daughter and make sure she’s okay.”

Kind of late for that, sniped the rejected child inside Rachel. Still, in fairness, the infant hadn’t been old enough to miss her parents, and she’d gone to a loving family.

“My family takes in foster kids, so I grew up around them.” She saw no reason to trot out any additional personal details. “Here’s my opinion—she needs stability as much as love. So if you’re going to put in an appearance, you’d better be prepared to follow through.”

“That’s a good point.”

Russ resumed his window staring as she navigated into his housing development. Reaching the cul-de-sac, Rachel again noticed the coziness of his cottage. This guy must have been acting on nesting instincts even before he learned of the grandparents’ demise.

She hoped her remarks hadn’t discouraged him. The girl could do far worse than to gain a father like Russ. “Go for it,” she advised as the car halted.

“What? Oh. Fine.” He reached for the door handle.

“I wasn’t trying to boot you out!” She hurried to clarify. “I meant, don’t let Janine give you the brush-off. Drop by her place. Show that you’ve matured.” Painfully, Rachel concluded, “If you guys were in love once, maybe there’s something left.”

Pale moonlight traced the angles of his cheeks. “We weren’t in love. I’d been exhausting myself as an intern, and Janine was a business grad student with big ambitions. We both regarded the relationship as temporary.”

Rachel couldn’t imagine a woman landing a guy like Russ and not hoping to keep him. “There must have been chemistry.” They hadn’t conceived a baby while shooting hoops. “Also, you may have misjudged her feelings.”

“If so, she gave no sign of it,” he responded. “Nevertheless, I agree that I should have been more supportive. In any case, I’ll bet she regrets missing our daughter’s early childhood as much as I do.”

“You mean the grandparents banned her from Christmas and birthdays and all that stuff?”

A furrow formed between his eyebrows. “I doubt that.”

“So forget the guilt trip. If you want to be close to Lauren…but maybe you don’t.” A twinge of old hurt prompted Rachel to challenge, “If you’re easily discouraged, I guess fatherhood doesn’t matter much to you.”

“Who says I’m easily discouraged? Like hell!” Anger frayed his voice.

Despite the irritation directed at her, Rachel didn’t take it personally. “Then go for it!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue further, but stopped. “You’re quite a motivator. Ever coach Little League?”

“Naw, but I was on the wrestling team in high school.” She didn’t intend to get sidetracked by that story. “Call her now. To heck with how late it is.”

A smile eased the man’s intensity. “My bad temper doesn’t faze you?”

“You call that bad temper?” she scoffed. “I saw what you could dish out yesterday when I tried to cuff you.”

“You’re one of a kind.” He leaned toward her, and for one tingling instant she thought they might kiss. Instead, he said, “If you need someone to help knock off that case of beer in the trunk, remember where I live.”

Buddies. As if she didn’t already have enough of those. Still, Rachel liked the guy, and she’d rather be his friend than a stranger.

“Keep me current on what happens with Lauren,” she requested.

“You bet.” He waited while she scribbled her cell number on the back of a business card and handed it to him. “I’ll do that.”

“Great.” She lingered to watch him stride up the walk, enjoying the view.

She wondered about Janine. Petite? Curvaceous? He’d described her as a businesswoman, which meant a sharp dresser with salon hair. That must be his type. A million miles out of Rachel’s league.

On the way home, she wondered what it’d be like if she were reborn with a shape like, say, Elise’s. To collect wolf whistles without trying and discover flowers on your desk from secret admirers must be nice. But not having to fend off unwanted advances from an old coot like ex-chief Vince Borrego, who’d put the moves on Elise to the point that she’d filed an official complaint two years ago.

Viewing the complaint as disloyal, many fellow officers had given Elise the cold shoulder. She might have remained frozen out except that Joel Simmons had witnessed one of the incidents. He’d admitted as much in the course of an internal investigation into a second case involving allegations that a lieutenant, Norm Kinsey, had beaten a prisoner and that Chief Borrego had covered for him.

Some members of the force had considered Joel a traitor, too. Hale, however, had stood by his friend, and Rachel had discreetly supported both Joel and Elise. Eventually, Borrego had retired under pressure and Kinsey got fired. As the department struggled to heal its wounds under Chief Lyons, old enmities had been set aside.

On reflection, Rachel supposed being cute and curvaceous had its downside. Nothing wrong with height and heft and enough guts to win the case of beer jouncing in her trunk.

Her spirits rose as she hung a left from Arches Avenue onto the side street that led to her condo development, Archway Acres. She planned to spend an hour or so reading and enjoying a brew and then…

What was a fire truck doing in the parking lot? She glanced around for signs of a blaze or other emergency and spotted a couple of police cruisers. Beyond them, a half-dozen civilians were loading stuff into their cars.

Squinting in the light of a streetlamp, Rachel sought a reason for the apparent evacuation. She didn’t have to look far. On the door of each unit was posted a yellow placard.

Yellow tags required residents to leave, at least temporarily. That status was a rung below red tagging, which indicated homes slated for destruction.

Gloomily Rachel recalled the workmen inspecting the slope earlier. Pulling forward, she halted beside a patrolman she recognized. “Yo, Bill!” she called. “What’s up?”