Page 2 of Waiting for Devon
He glanced across the street and saw a woman he recognized from a San Francisco General Hospital fundraiser sitting alone at the Garden Café. Dr. Devon Brooks. They’d shared a few casual conversations during the time he’d spent in San Francisco tending to business. He knew she’d been married before to a doctor and always appeared so sad.
It’s now or never. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Asking Devon to pretend to be my fiancée. It’s all for you, Alana, and our future together. As soon as I’m CEO of BI, I’ll be free to marry you, and Dad won’t have a damn thing to say about it.
He pulled his cell phone from his suit pocket and sent his father a text.
Shane:Meet me at the Garden Café on Mulberry Street. My fiancée is eager to meet you.
Dad:We will be there shortly.
Time to make my move. I hope to hell I can pull this off or I’m sunk.
Shane crossed the street and came up behind Devon. He leaned over her shoulder. “I’ve been looking for a woman like you all my life.”
His audacity caused an amused expression to cross her face as she continued to eat her salad and study her tablet. “Oh? Do you need a doctor, Mr. Bachelor of the Year?”
Devon referred to a popular magazine which featured him on the cover of the June issue.
Shane made a face. “Very funny, Devon. No. I need a fiancée.”
She choked and reached for her glass of water. “What an original line,” she returned with a slight smile. “I’ll give you props for your creativity, Shane, but I’m afraid I must pass.”
“A limousine is pulling up to the curb. My father and his lawyer are headed this way, and they expect to meet my fiancée. Please, I’m desperate. Just play along for a few minutes.”
Devon glanced toward the street. A sleek limousine parked parallel to the sidewalk, and two men, both dressed in sharp business suits, were approaching. Shane’s father resembled him, only his hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a stern, authoritative expression. The other man was a little younger, but he, too, carried himself with authority. “Shane, this is ridiculous…”
He laid a hand on Devon’s shoulder and nodded at his father and the lawyer. “This is my father, Jasper Barrington, and one of our corporate lawyers, Marshall Cleary. Dad, this is my fiancée, Dr. Devon Brooks.”
“Mr. Barrington.” She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Jasper Barrington stared at Shane through hard blue eyes, though his remark was addressed to Devon. “I find it difficult to believe you are the fiancée Shane has been raving about for the past month. He has never been interested in intellectual women.”
Shane tensed at his father’s insult. When he’d been a millionaire playboy in his twenties, he couldn’t deny it. He’d changed, though, soon after he’d started dating Alana. She wasn’t a dumb bimbo. She might only be a bank teller for the moment, but she planned to advance through the ranks.
Devon chuckled as she glanced up at Shane. “Why, Shane,darling,” she purred, “you never told me the Barrington men are intimidated by smart, independent women.”
Shane relaxed and returned her grin until he heard his father’s sharp question.
“You never said your fiancée was a doctor, Shane. What kind of medicine does she practice?”
“I’ll be glad to answer that, sir,” Devon responded. “I’m a pediatrician.”
Jasper studied her, then Shane. “Well, Miss Brooks, I’ll give you one week to find someone to cover your practice for you. After that, I expect to see you and Shane at the Barrington ranch so you can meet the rest of the family and make your wedding plans.”
“But, sir,” Devon protested. “I don’t have a private practice. I’m in charge of the ER pediatric care unit at San Francisco General Hospital. I can’t leave.”
“You will, Miss Brooks,” Jasper commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. “In one week you will accompany my son to Texas.”
When Jasper and his lawyer left them alone, Devon turned to Shane. “All right, Shane, I pretended we were engaged for a few minutes. It’s over now, so I’ll leave you to explain to your overbearing father why I won’t be joining you in Texas.”
“It’s not over, Devon. I’ll see you in an hour in front of the hospital.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Devon threw money down on the table and dashed across the street.
Devon couldn’t helplaughing to herself as she made her rounds. At least the bizarre incident kept her from dwelling on her former husband’s disturbing reappearance in her life.
Forty minutes later Devon checked on the Dalton baby. She listened to his tiny lungs and heart and took his temperature. When the infant smiled at her and cooed, her battered heart mended a little. During moments like these, she yearned for another chance at motherhood.
After she made a notation on the infant’s chart, her pager beeped. She picked up the nearest phone and dialed the hospital administrator’s office. “Mr. Linhart, you wanted to see me?”
