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spread the word quietly before Bailey got a chance to put a colorful spin on things.
    â€œSo Dr. Franco’s nurse is your sister-in-law’s sister. Now, there’s an interesting twist. I haven’t met her yet, but I’m sure I will.” Small, blonde and dedicated, Erica hadn’t originally planned to move to California. Then she’d announced that her troubled marriage had broken up and she was eager for a fresh start. Lucky for Owen.
    He stayed alert to the other people around them, especially the anesthesiologist, Dr. Rod Vintner, who kept a close watch on the patient’s heart rate, blood pressure and other vital signs. Having a state-of-the-art surgical suite meant a lot, of course. Not only did the surgeon get to manipulate the coolest tools in the medical field, but an overhead camera recorded each operation for later review, while an adjacent pathology lab permitted immediate examination of tissue, and computer terminals allowed him to review test results without leaving the sterile environment. Still, there was no substitute for skilled, reliable personnel.
    â€œYou are aware that Bailey’s pregnant with her sister’s child, right?” It was the first time Rod had joined the conversation, but clearly he’d been listening. To them, and to hospital chitchat.
    Silently, Owen thanked him for confirming the fact of Bailey’s surrogacy, even as he felt a spark of annoyance at having to learn about it from a man he hardly knew. “It should be interesting to watch my niece or nephew develop day by day.”
    â€œDo you have kids?” Rod asked.
    Why was the fellow so nosy? But perhaps it seemed like a routine question to him.
    Erica spared Owen the bother of answering. “Neither of us does. That’s our joke, considering the kind of work we do. Personally, I prefer keeping my personal life neat and orderly.”
    â€œYou have kids, Rod?” Owen was glad to steer the conversation away from himself.
    â€œI thought I did.” The anesthesiologist left that cryptic remark hanging in the air while he adjusted the patient’s breathing tube. “When my ex-wife got ready to remarry, she produced DNA tests to prove our daughters weren’t really mine. She tried to cut me off from seeing them, but the judge said they’re still legally my responsibility. Big of him, wasn’t it?” His voice caught. “All those years, I had no idea she’d cheated on me. I still feel like they’re my girls.”
    What a heartbreaking mess. While Erica expressed sympathy, Owen kept his gaze on the patient. Best not to get involved, especially since his thoughts shifted defiantly to his own circumstances.
    How often would he get to visit his baby? Although he was currently living near Boone and Phyllis, he had no rights at all, either as an uncle or a sperm donor. He supposed he should have considered that before he agreed to donate, but somehow it hadn’t mattered until he learned about the surrogacy. And until he met Bailey.
    This morning, she’d padded into the kitchen wearing a Cheshire-cat grin and asked how he’d slept. “Fine,” he’d answered truthfully, since he did feel energetic despite his restless night. He’d also appreciated the way the morning light bathed Bailey in gentle radiance, as if she were a fertility goddess.
    A what? Owen nearly choked at the ridiculous image. It probably stemmed from living in a tropical rain forest.
    The conversation continued around him, with Erica sharing horror stories about her ex, who’d dumped her for a rich woman who would support him in style. Anyone listening to this conversation would vow never to marry. A better conclusion, in Owen’s opinion, would be to choose one’s spouse very, very carefully.
    If he had a list of qualifications, it included an advanced degree and a distinguished career. Also the kind of sophistication that inspired maître d’s