Well, she could no longer blame her reaction on her breakup, because at the meeting in the canteen, her foot had done its twitchy little best to keep pace with her heart. She’d uncrossed her legs again, planting both of her feet on the ground under the table. Her pulse hadn’t been quite as easy to control.
And to find out he found her too dull—or unadventurous—to pull off a sexy dress...
Well, if the chance ever presented itself, maybe she would have to prove him wrong.
Lord! This was ridiculous. She needed to either get past this or figure out what to do about it. Doing nothing wasn’t an option. One thing her father had taught her at an early age was to pursue something until you figured it out. It was what she needed to do now.
But how was she supposed to do that when there were these weird itchy emotions popping to the surface one after the other?
She wasn’t sure. But she’d controlled what she now called the Adem Twinges for the last year, so whatever was happening, she could just push those suckers back down until they got the hint and disappeared for good.
Her cell phone buzzed on her dresser, making her jump. She swallowed as she walked toward it.
It’s not him. He has no reason to call you at home.
She picked it up, and then frowned. Naomi Silver, one of her patients. Naomi was almost nine months pregnant and so far had had a normal pregnancy—even if the events leading up to it hadn’t been. Like Carly, Naomi had had her own fertility problems. She’d had adhesions that had kept her from getting pregnant for the last five years. She and her husband had even adopted a daughter, thinking they’d never have a biological one. And then, out of the blue, she’d gotten pregnant.
Her phone buzzed again. Naomi never called her at home, so her belly tightened.
She pressed talk. “Hello?”
There was no sound, except some kind of weird snuffling sound.
“Naomi? Are you okay?”
“I—I’m so scared.”
Fear struck her heart. “What’s going on? Where are you?”
“I’m home.” A broken sob hit. “But my head hurts so much. I’m... Could I be having a stroke?”
Oh, God. A million possible diagnoses went through her head. Migraine. Preeclampsia. Eclampsia. Fetal demise. Her speech didn’t sound slurred, but Carly wasn’t willing to take any chances.
“Can you get to the hospital?”
“The clinic?”
She ran through the possibilities. The clinic could do C-sections in a pinch, but it wasn’t set up with an MRI or other of the more expensive diagnostic equipment. “No. The Queen Victoria.”
“Yes, I think so. My husband can bring me.”
“Good. I’ll meet you there.”
The second she got off the phone, she tore out of her yoga pants and nightshirt and dragged on a black skirt and blouse, shoving her feet into low wedged heels that she normally wore when she was at the main hospital campus. Then she gritted her teeth and did the one thing she wasn’t thrilled about doing. She called the man she’d just been trying to forget. It went to voice mail, but she left a quick message asking if there was any way he could meet her at the hospital.
And if he was with some woman?
She swallowed. Images she couldn’t banish swept through her mind.
Dammit. Now was not the time.
She glanced at her watch. It was only seven o’clock. If he didn’t get her message, there would either be a neurosurgeon present at the hospital or on call. She dialed the hospital number as she scooped up her car keys. Before she got an answer, her phone buzzed.
Adem.
She hung up on the hospital and answered his call. “Hey, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have a patient coming into the Queen Victoria with some troubling symptoms.”
“Like what?”
He didn’t ask why she was calling him—a neurosurgeon for a pregnancy issue. For that she was grateful.
“She has a terrible headache, and she’s really scared. And Naomi isn’t one to panic without a good reason. Any chance you can ask someone to meet us there? I’m on my way in.”
“I’m five minutes out. Headed back now. See you soon.”
The line went dead. And if Naomi’s problem turned out to be a simple migraine?
She grimaced. Simple migraine. That was an oxymoron if she ever heard one. It could be that a change in blood pressure had set one in motion. Except that many migraine sufferers experienced a lessening of symptoms during pregnancy due to the change in estrogen levels.
Well, she could hope that’s all it was. And since Adem had volunteered to come without her specifically asking him to, it wasn’t like he was changing plans just for her.
She hoped, anyway.
But he could have passed her off to a colleague, if that were the case.
It took her a little longer to make it to the hospital, since she had to come across town. By the time she arrived, Adem was in the A&E waiting area. He was in jeans and a white button-down shirt, the mixture between ultracasual and business attire a stunning combination that made her mouth go dry. She did her best to shake off her familiar reaction to him.
“Sorry to ask you to come.”
“You didn’t.”
She frowned. “Sorry?”
“You didn’t ask me to come, so don’t apologize. It was my choice.”
He was right. It was. But she still felt guilty. “I appreciate it.”
“Were you on your way out?”
“Out?”
“You’re dressed up.”
She glanced down. Ah, she normally had a lab coat on over her blouse when she was working, and at the clinic she dressed a lot more casually, so maybe she did look different. “No. I tend to wear a skirt when I come in here, since the atmosphere is different from the clinic.”
“I should have figured.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he had a chance to respond, Carly spotted her patient walking up the path, one arm wrapped protectively around her belly, while her husband gripped her other hand, their daughter, Tessa, perched on his hip.
God. Naomi would be devastated if something happened to this baby. “That’s her.”
Grabbing a wheelchair, she rushed out the doors, not waiting for Adem. She had Naomi sitting in a flash.
“What’s happening to her?”
Her husband Douglas’s eyes were full of concern. Although they were from a deprived area of the city, they did their best to provide for their daughter and unborn baby. “I’m not sure, but—”
Adem went down on his haunches, a penlight in his hands. “I’m Mr. Kepler. I hear you have quite the headache.”
“Yes. It’s horrible. I called Douglas home from work. I never, ever do that.”
Adem glanced up at the other man. “I’m glad you came. We’ll get you inside in a minute. Can you follow the light?” He flicked on his penlight and took her through a set of commands right there outside of the hospital.
“Your pupils look good,” he said. “Let’s put you in an exam room. Douglas, you and...”
“Tessa.”
Adem