He refocused his attention on the report opened in front of him. It wasn’t any more interesting than it had been five minutes before, but he made himself read every damn word. Then he checked the time again.
Two-thirty. Forty-two hours. He hadn’t seen or heard from Rebecca Holley in forty-two hours. Well-practiced in negotiation, he knew the next move was hers, but the waiting was driving him nuts. Admitting his concentration was shot, he pushed up from his chair and headed out of his office.
Claudine looked up from her desk, situated a few steps from his door. “Have we finished going over the departmental reports?”
He gave her his best malevolent glare, all the while blessing her for offering the distraction. “Again? How many times do I have to tell you not to refer to me as ‘we’?”
“It’s the royal ‘we,’” she replied. “Because you’re a royal pain in the patoot.”
He would have laughed, but he didn’t like giving her the satisfaction. Instead, he stalked past her.
“Where are you going, your majesty?” she called out.
“Human Resources. To get the necessary forms to have you fired.”
“Without me, you couldn’t find Human Resources, let alone fill out one of their forms.”
“Shrew.” He strode into the hall.
“Despot.”
Still moving, he raised his voice, determined to get in the last word. “Nag.”
Her response reached his ears, anyway. “Oligarch.”
That one stopped him. He retraced his steps and poked his head into her sanctum. “Oligarch? That’s good. That’s very good.”
Claudine’s smile was smug. “Of course I am.”
He snorted, then started to move off again.
“Trent?” Claudine again.
But this time her tone lacked its usual caustic edge, causing him to backtrack once more to meet her gaze. “Is something the matter?”
“That was my question.” Her eyes were serious, her expression kind. “Is there a problem I can help you with? All of us in Admin talked over lunch and we realize something’s bothering you. We’d…well, we’d like to help if we can.”
Oh, hell. If Admin was talking about him… Next thing he knew, his competitors would get wind of his lack of focus and use it against the company. When he found himself distracted, then doodling, then drawing the concern of his domineering assistant and her henchmen, it was time to take a new tack in the negotiations.
He sighed. “Cover for me, will you, Claudine? I might be out a couple of hours.”
It was time to confront Rebecca Holley and demand—in concise, clear terms—what he wanted from her.
Problem was, Trent thought a short car ride later, it was going to be hard to make any kind of demand to a woman sitting on the floor with a baby in her lap and a bigger kid hanging around her neck. Peering around a large poster announcing a children’s health fair in the hospital parking lot the following weekend, he watched her through the glass door leading into the crowded playroom on the Pediatrics floor. After another minute, though, he pushed open the door and walked in, because she was laughing and…and the happy expression on her face made him feel as if he hadn’t laughed since he was nine years old and Robbie Logan had gone missing while Trent was playing basketball in the rear yard.
She glanced up as he strode into the room, the smile on her face dying. “Oh!”
The last time he’d seen her, her face had been pale with fatigue and her eyes heavy with sleep, but now she looked flushed and alert. “Rebecca.” He nodded a greeting.
She rose to her feet, cradling the baby in her arms. Trent noticed the little guy had two full leg casts and three teeth.
“Gawaa!” Three-Teeth said, waving a fat arm.
Rebecca’s cheek touched the top of the baby’s head, a caress so natural he wondered if she was even aware of it. “This is Vince, one of my pediatric OR patients,” she said, then looked down at the other child she’d been playing with. “And Merry.”
“Nice to meet you,” Trent said, nodding again.
Merry wiggled the fingers of her thin hand.
Baby Vince made another wild gesture, a right hook that almost connected with Rebecca’s nose. “Gawaa! Gawaa!”
“Right back at ya,” Trent murmured, coming close enough to capture the contender’s little fist. The baby grinned at him, then took Trent’s hand to his mouth to gnaw on it like a bone.
“Oh, sorry.” Rebecca tried to step back, but Trent halted her movement by capturing one of her shoulders in his other hand. Beneath his palm, the small curve felt feminine, delicate, reminding him of how fragile she’d seemed when he’d helped her to her bedroom.
“Have you been eating?” His voice sounded abrupt, he knew it, but thinking about her body beneath those dumpy scrubs was doing something to him…. Arousing him. Making him worried, because getting hot over a woman covered in pale pink with raspberry flamingos had to be the first symptom of some weird sexual perversion.
“I’ve been eating fine,” Rebecca assured him. “And getting more rest, too.” Her face flushed as bright as those long-legged birds she was wearing and she glanced around at the kids and their parents who were involved with toys or puzzles or who were watching some kids’ show on the TV in the corner of the room. “I want you to know I’m sorry about dozing off on you the other night. I’ve never done that before.”
“It’s all right.”
“Well, thank you.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Is there…something you wanted?”
He frowned. He wanted her response to his proposition, of course. Then he jumped, startled by the sharp nip Vince gave his knuckle. “Yowch!”
The little guy grinned without an ounce of repentance. “Ga—”
“—waa. I know, kid. And a gawaa to you, too.”
Rebecca tried shifting the baby away, but Vince wasn’t having it. With another “gawaa,” he held his arms out to Trent, smiling so widely that a big dollop of drool oozed over his bottom lip.
In one smooth move, Trent pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed off the kid’s chin, and then took him in his own arms.
Rebecca blinked, then looked down at Merry, who looked back with the same surprise mirrored on her face. “So much for the big, bad businessman, eh, Merry?”
The little girl hid her answering smile behind her hand.
“Huh?” Trent lifted a brow. “Big bad businessman?”
“Inside joke,” Rebecca said, not meeting his eyes. Then she glanced down at Merry again. “This is the man I told you about. The one who brought me those boxes for your playhouse.”
“Oh.” The little girl darted a less-shy look in his direction. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Then Trent frowned, irritated that they’d strayed so far from his purpose.
Determined to get to it, he pinned Rebecca with an implacable stare. “Can we talk?”
She blinked a couple of times. “Oh, um, sure. But I have to stay in the playroom. I told my friend Janet I’d cover for her—we have a nurse in here at all times.” She looked down and suggested to Merry that she serve herself a glass of juice and then watch TV. The little girl moved off and Rebecca reached for Vince.
He huddled back against Trent’s chest. “Gawaa gawaa gawaa.”