And hadn’t wanted to worry her.
Or, another theory that held possibility, she hadn’t wanted Angie to doubt her. To think that she’d fall for the doctor and cut Angie out.
Mostly, she just wanted to get the upcoming meet done so that Craig Harmon truly was out of their lives and she was free to be the single mom she wanted and needed to be, raising a happy, healthy, well-adjusted child with tons of familial support. But there could be some truth to the not wanting Angie to doubt her, too.
* * *
Craig had the perfect little gift for Amelia Grace. Unfortunately, he’d also been on call at the clinic that morning and had been running so late that he’d only been able to “wrap” his gift by shoving it in an empty X-ray envelope and wrapping the little string around the button closure. Still in his navy pants, light blue long-sleeved shirt and blue striped tie, he smoothed hair back behind his ear with a nervous hand as he waited to be cleared through security and gain access to the elevator that would take him up to Amelia’s condo.
He’d been in the plush establishment before, a few times. The chief of staff at Oceanfront Hospital lived in the penthouse.
And he couldn’t imagine himself as a kid—or any child—living there. Where would he run? Or jump on beds? Where would he holler along with the video game? Or learn to throw baseballs?
A nearby park was the obvious answer for that one.
Still, a kid shouldn’t have to always be circumspect at home. He wasn’t privy to the owner’s actual rules and regulations in the Oceanview Towers, but it was pretty clear that everyone in the place was expected to act with some measure of decorum. Out of respect for their neighbors.
All of whom were clearly wealthy and could afford to be assured their lives wouldn’t be interrupted by neighborly irritations.
Amelia opened her door just as he got off the elevator. She wore a pair of dark blue jeans with white lace butterflies adorning one leg from shapely thigh to deliciously thin ankle, a black T-shirt with a white and blue lace strip around a pocket that molded a far too enticingly shaped breast and black wedged sandals.
“Each floor in each building houses two units,” she told him as he glanced down both sides of the smallish hallway before entering her place. “And there are separate elevators that stop at each floor, for each of the two units.”
So not quite a private elevator, but a private entrance for each floor.
Which meant a private hallway. Nice.
The space wasn’t big enough for a kid to run. Or throw a ball. He could probably get away with a holler or two, though.
He tried to make the thought occupy his mind. Instead, he caught a glimpse of the sexy shape of her butt in front of him, leading him into Amelia Grace’s private space.
Dry mouth wasn’t usual for him. Nor was reticence when it came to entering a beautiful woman’s apartment.
“You having second thoughts?” she asked, turning, when he didn’t immediately follow her in. “Or you’ve seen enough to allay your fears and we’re done here?”
He’d been expecting a visibly pregnant woman—though he knew she wouldn’t be showing yet. He knew every change her body would make, and approximately when, throughout the birthing process. Still, he’d had this maternal vision in his head. Someone who reminded him of his mother, maybe.
Not an incredibly poised, beautiful woman who had his body needing this to be a social call.
She reached for the door handle. Afraid she was going to close it on him, he stepped forward. Shoved the envelope out toward her.
“You brought me an X-ray?” she asked, frowning. “I’m Amelia, by the way.”
He nodded. “I’m Craig.”
Dr. Craig Harmon. An intelligent, respectable man. Not this moron who seemed to be taking over his life for the moment.
“I know.” She gave a peremptory nod. “Security cleared you through...” The last ended on a bit of an uptilt in her voice, like she was asking a question.
Or asking if he was in his right mind and remembered what he was doing there.
A fair question. Not that he wanted her to know that.
She’d yet to really look at him. Could he hope she hadn’t noticed he was acting imbecilic?
He stepped inside, followed her through a large, marble foyer, past an archway leading to a formal living room, by a door with a couch and love seat arrangement with a large-screen television and through a door on the other side that held a desk, a couple of wingback chairs with colorful floral fabric and two walls lined with bookcases.
“Have a seat,” she said, indicating one of the floral chairs, while she took the other and put his gift offering down on the small round table between them.