Kitabı oxu: «His Special Delivery»

Chapter One

Cal Tucker had gotten as far as the altar, but he had one slight problem. No bride.

The white, lace-covered unity candle stood off to one side, unlit, its future decided by his absent bride’s unexpected change of heart.

He yanked the peach boutonniere from the lapel of his tuxedo and crushed it under his heel as he made the long trek down the aisle past the now-empty church pews. Alone. “Guess she loves me not.”

James Scott, Cal’s business partner, waited beside the front doors. “You know, you didn’t have to stay and face everyone. I could have sent them on their way.”

Though Cal hadn’t wanted to endure the sympathetic looks of his friends and acquaintances, he couldn’t very well run off and leave the chore of explaining this mess to someone else. “It was my wedding, my responsibility.”

His friend pushed away from the wall. “Any idea why Tiffany didn’t show?”

Cal ran his forefinger around the inside of the stiff collar, which for the past hour had felt like a noose. “I finally got around to telling her I didn’t intend to accept Dad’s offer to head up his new megaconglomerate.”

James whistled through his front teeth. “I see where that would tick her off. Tiffany thrives on all that highbrow stuff.”

Cal frowned, wondering how James had become so perceptive when he himself had only just figured it out. “Yeah, but I don’t. When I told her last night, she gave me an ultimatum.”

“Then you knew she might not come?”

“Hell, no. You know Tiff. She’s hot one minute, cold the next.” Cal rubbed the aching muscles at the back of his neck. “Do you think I’d be standing here now if I’d thought she wouldn’t be here?”

“So, what do you plan to do?”

“Do?” He shrugged. “Nothing. She made her choice.” Cal didn’t understand why he hadn’t realized before then how different Tiffany and he were. They’d never wanted the same things. Only it had never mattered. Not to her. Or to him. “It’s over.”

“You sure?” James asked.

The sense of loss Cal expected didn’t come, but the blow to his pride came with the force of a mule’s kick. “Yeah, I’m sure.” Whatever he’d once felt or convinced himself he’d felt for Tiffany was gone. Only now could Cal admit he’d never loved her. But then, she hadn’t loved him either. Not that he’d needed it. In fact, he’d never seen evidence love existed.

It really didn’t matter any longer that Tiffany had dumped him. Besides, he’d had his fill of doing what everybody else wanted him to do. No more. From now on, he’d do what he wanted. He didn’t need anybody, didn’t want anybody.

James gestured toward the front of the church. “Reporters have your folks cornered out by your pickup.”

With his father’s standing as one of Dallas’s finest entrepreneurs and his mother’s reputation as a society matriarch, Cal wasn’t surprised. “They can handle the press. They always have.” And, as usual, his parents had chosen the limelight over him.

“Sneak out the back way. It’s only a few blocks to the Bull Pen. I’ll take your truck and meet you there later.” James grinned. “I’ll even buy you a beer. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a couple of little fillies for the night.”

Cal held up his hands and shook his head. “Hell, no. I don’t want anything to do with another woman. I’m swearing off.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how long you can hold out when those sweet young things start stuffing their numbers in your pockets.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not interested. All women are trouble—short, tall, blond or brunette,” Cal said. “It doesn’t matter. They’re all bad news.”

James shot Cal a sympathetic look. “You’ll be all right once we get you back in the saddle.”

“I’m okay. Honest. I don’t need a woman.” Wanting to get away from the church, Cal crossed to the minister’s office and slipped through the door leading outside.

“I’ll tell your folks you’ve gone, then I’ll meet you at the Bull Pen,” James said, closing the door with a soft click.

Cal headed toward the sidewalk. Tufts of dead grass caught in a Texas winter’s slumber crunched beneath his feet as he crossed the hard ground. Heavy gray clouds sat low in the Dallas sky, and the scent of snow hung thick in the late-afternoon air.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, slowing at the corner to glance back at the Gothic white stone of the Methodist church.

Cal wondered at his judgment. Had his reasons for wanting to marry Tiffany been misguided? Even though lust and social compatibility only went so far, his parents were certainly proof they could sustain a marriage. And Cal had been willing to settle for that. Only now, even contentment seemed out of his reach.

Determined to ignore the chill of the February breeze and the deep-seated wound to his male pride, Cal started walking.

He’d gone no more than two blocks when the screech of brakes and the squeal of tires brought him up short. A faded brown compact car with a broken headlight jumped the curb and headed toward him. He dived out of the way and hit the concrete hard, rolling as the car slammed to a stop before stalling.

Cal swore and hauled himself to his feet, then swore again when he saw the driver—a woman.

When the pain crested, Sara Jamison peeked through the windshield at the man pushing himself up from the ground. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to pound some sense into the driver who’d come so close to running him down. Since Sara was the driver in question, she prayed he’d take pity on a pregnant woman in the final stages of labor.

The tuxedo-clad man marched around the front of her car, his dark scowl deepening as he neared the open window. Anger flashed in his cold, gray eyes. “What the—”

Sara flinched. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He pushed away from the car, muttering under his breath. She wished he’d quit frowning at her as if she’d intentionally tried to run him over.

“Do you have any idea—?” He drew a hand over the rigid lines of his face, his frustration evident.

“Look, I said I was—” Another contraction hit. Sara gasped and clutched the steering wheel, unable to finish her apology. After having three false alarms this past week, she’d refused to leave home until certain this was the real thing. Now she regretted waiting so long. A small moan slipped unbidden through her lips before she clamped her mouth shut. She glanced at her watch to note the time passage since the last contraction.

The man leaned down and angled his head to look inside the car at her swollen stomach. “Are you in labor?”

She nodded and noticed the sudden tightening of his stern jaw, as if her condition displeased him. It was obvious he didn’t want to be inconvenienced. Not that she wanted his blasted help.

He plowed his long fingers through his short, black hair and exhaled a breath shot through with frustration. “Wait here. I’ll find a phone and call for an ambulance.”

Sara caught his hand where it rested on the open window. “No. I can’t afford one. Thank you, but I’ll be all right.”

His quicksilver gaze held hers. “You almost ran me down.”

She lifted her chin a notch. “Everybody knows ‘almost’ only counts in horseshoes.”

One corner of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a smile, something she couldn’t imagine on his face. “Given the situation and the fact that your driving ranks up there with a natural disaster, I’d say ‘almost’ counts this time.”

She met his gaze, determined to leave. “If my grandmother can go home after working all day in the field, deliver her own baby, and then cook supper, surely I can drive myself to the hospital. Thanks for your concern, but I really have to go now.”

Sara tried to roll up the window, momentarily forgetting it was broken. Another pain crashed over her. Drawing a deep breath, she settled her splayed hands on her stomach.

The stranger yanked open the rusty door and dropped to one knee beside her, then placed his palm between hers.

She gasped, shocked at his action, but the pain threatening to rip her apart demanded her attention.

He watched her, saying nothing. His dark gaze took on a look of understanding. “You’re not driving anywhere.”

“I’ll be fine,” she gasped, failing to suppress the shudder that tore through her. “Just give me a minute.”

She moaned and bit her bottom lip until her contraction eased. Again, she wondered how much time she had left.

He removed his hand and gave her a hard look. “Lady, I’ve had a really bad day. This is not the time to argue.”

Sara didn’t want to be one of those women who screamed and said ugly things during labor. Despite that, she had an urge to shout at the man who acted as if she was responsible for his lousy day. “You can leave. I don’t need your help.”

He clamped his mouth shut, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Look, that baby’s in a hurry. You’re not driving.”

Apprehension swept over her. “But I need to get to the hospital.”

“Right,” he said, his irritation evident. “Guess I’ll have to take you.” With that, he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a puff of smoke.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and noticed a scar on his stubborn chin, which lent a rugged edge to his angular features. Despite his gruffness, the concern she glimpsed in his eyes made her misgivings scatter in the cold breeze.

The muscles in his arms bunched as he held her against his chest, leaving her feeling more secure than she thought possible. More secure than she should feel. She had an inexplicable urge to lean her head against his wide shoulder, let him take care of her, just for a little while. But she would never trust another man. Not when she was always the one left behind with her pain.

She shoved her hair from her face, unsettled by her reaction to him. “Everybody knows a first baby takes longer. I’m sure I’ll be fine. So, if you’ll put me down, I’ll be on my way.”

The hard look he gave her dissolved whatever hope she’d clung to that he might leave. “I said I’d get you to the hospital. And I will.” Though the fire of impatience burned in his eyes, his words came out soft and gentle, almost a whisper. That, along with the touch of his calloused palm on her arm, brought a sense of calm that surprised her.

Sara shook her head. She didn’t want his help, but another contraction came upon her. She closed her eyes and tried to bear the agony in silence. Her head fell against his shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the searing pain and moaned.

He braced a knee on the front bumper of her car and cradled her in his arms. His chin settled against the top of her head. “Relax. Listen to my voice. Trust me, it will help.”

But she couldn’t trust him. Not when the last man she’d believed in had left her shattered and hurting…and all alone with his unborn child.

She clenched her eyes tighter against the sting of tears threatening and told herself to be strong, to send him away. The man stroked her arm, and she found herself trying to focus on his touch instead of the hell she was going through.

“Listen to me. Have you ever seen a foal being born?” His whispered words washed over her, and she tried to concentrate on what he was saying. “They come out all nose and legs and stuff. It’s as natural as anything. Mama doesn’t need any help. Nature has a way of taking care of everything. It’s going to be all right.” After a long moment, he asked, “Has your contraction ended?”

Sara opened her eyes, only then realizing her pain had eased. She’d been distracted by the tranquilizing warmth of his voice and had let him take control. The fact that she’d let down her guard enough to allow what she’d sworn no man would ever again do irritated her. “Yes, thank you. You can put me down now.”

He pulled her even tighter against his muscled chest and continued around her car.

Sara recognized the time had passed for getting herself to the hospital. She didn’t want to feel helpless, to need any man. Still, there was something about this man that made her think maybe things would be okay. For now.

When they reached the passenger’s door, he paused, his gaze capturing hers. He frowned at her again, and she found herself wondering if he ever smiled.

A sudden wave of nausea hit. Sara swallowed hard. “Wait. I’m going to throw up.” She expected him to put her down. Instead, he held her tighter, giving her the time she needed.

Sara clamped her eyes shut and gulped air until the urge to be sick eased. “Okay. I—I think it’s going away.”

“Then, let’s get you to the hospital.”

This stranger worried her. He’d stormed into her life, full of dark looks and bad temper, and taken over—like the father of her unborn child who’d run out on her.

When he caught the door handle, a sudden uneasiness filled her. “Wait,” she sputtered. “I don’t know you. I can’t let you in my car.”

“I’m not a criminal,” he said, his voice tinged with impatience. “I’m Dr. Cal Tucker. Want to see some I.D.?”

Though she wasn’t thrilled with the tone of his voice or bossy attitude, she shook her head. He was a man, but more than that, he was a doctor. Everything would be all right.

He struggled with the door that hadn’t opened since Thanksgiving. He put his foot against the car and shifted Sara so that he held her in one arm against his chest. With another yank, the door opened, and he maneuvered her into the passenger’s seat, leaning inside the car to hook her seat belt. He turned his head, his face a hair’s breadth from hers. “How’s that?”

Sara swallowed hard and nodded, incapable of speech as the next pain seized her. She sucked in air and checked her watch.

He cursed under his breath, closed the door and raced around the car. Through a haze of pain, she watched him wrestle with the seat until it finally slid all the way back, then tuck his long legs into the cramped space. Even with the seat pushed back, his knees pressed against the dashboard.

Cal glanced toward her as he turned the key in the ignition and pushed on the gas pedal. “What hospital?”

She couldn’t make a sound for a minute, then set her jaw against the pain. “Mercy Hospital.”

When the motor caught, he eased out the clutch. “Hang on.” Her car backfired, coughed, then started forward.

He drove in silence, his movements sure and confident, which only made Sara feel more out of control.

Frustrated at the turn of events, she told herself she shouldn’t blame Cal Tucker. It wasn’t his fault she’d gotten pregnant or that her ex-fiancé, Gary, had demanded she get an abortion, or even that he’d walked out after she’d refused. Just remembering how he’d wanted her to dispose of their baby made her shiver.

“You cold?” Without waiting for her answer, Cal turned the heater up a notch higher as if he knew what was best for her.

Sara pushed the memories away and really noticed the man beside her. “Where have you been, all dressed up?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw as he shifted gears. “A wedding.”

“Yeah, whose?” Sara caught the edge of the seat as another contraction started.

Cal tore the bow tie from around his neck and shoved it in the pocket of the black tuxedo jacket before undoing the top button of his starched shirt. “Mine,” he said in a gruff voice.

Sara forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. “I hate to point this out to you, Dr. Tucker, but you seem to have lost your bride.”

The look he gave her rivaled the Texas sun in July. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Sara said through clenched teeth as the pain worsened. “What happened?”

Cal’s long fingers tightened around the gearshift, and the perpetual frown he wore deepened. “Last-minute change of plans.”

The contraction peaked, and she settled her hands over her protruding stomach, staring out the window until it eased. She had thought Dr. Tucker might be different from the others, but once again, she’d been fooled by a handsome face. “Your idea?”

He approached a red light, looked both ways, then went across. A shadow of annoyance darkened his gray eyes as he glanced at her from the other side of the console. “No, not mine.”

As another pain came, accompanied by a wave of nausea, Sara looked at her watch. The contractions came much closer together. “Oh, no. Faster. Drive faster.”

Cal placed his hand on her stomach.

Sara stared at his long fingers splayed across her abdomen. The fear she’d felt diminished as she watched him watching her. He gave her a quick nod and stomped on the gas pedal. “Hold on.”

Sara sat stunned. Obviously, he knew what he was doing. At least she hoped so. The thought of relying on any man scared her, but at the moment she didn’t have a choice. And Cal had M.D. behind his name, not that it mattered.

Except, he was going to have to deliver her baby.

“Hang on. We’re almost there.” Cal cursed himself for getting involved. He should have walked away, but he’d had no choice. He could no more have left this woman stranded, alone and in trouble, than he could embrace his parents’ way of life. He intended to get this lady to the hospital, one way or another.

When he pushed on the gas pedal, the stupid car sputtered. He muttered a curse and downshifted into second gear.

The woman gasped. “Pull over. I can’t go any farther.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sara Jamison.” Her words trailed off in a groan.

“Relax. It’s not far now.” Cal rolled through a Stop sign.

She glared at him. “Shove a bowling ball up your nose, Doc, then tell me relaxing will keep it from hurting.” She bore down and yelled a curse aimed at all men, including him.

Frustrated, Cal choked the steering wheel. “Dammit, the side of the road is no place to have a baby.” He felt as out of breath as she sounded. “No, Sara, don’t bear down. Don’t push.”

Sara braced her legs on the floor and moaned. Her hand clamped around his wrist. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She threw her head back and screamed bloody murder.

Cal cursed and pulled over to the curb. He had planned to drop Sara at the hospital, then meet James for a beer.

But first, it looked like he had a baby to deliver.

He got out, raced around to Sara’s side of the car and opened the door. “Let’s get you in the back seat.”

She tried to stand. When her knees buckled, he lifted her in his arms. Her scent whirled around him like a lasso, and he wondered how a woman could smell so good in the middle of something like this.

Cal settled Sara on the back seat. She reclined and bent her knees, tucking the skirt of her frumpy brown dress around her legs.

“Better?” he asked, hovering over her. He saw the fear she tried to hide and found he wanted to reassure her. When he realized he already held her hand, he released it, irritated at his reluctance to let go.

Sara met his gaze, her eyes suddenly wide. “It’s coming.”

She bore down then and yelled as if her horse had thrown her into a cactus patch.

Cal stole a quick glance at his watch. About now, he and Tiffany should have been toasting their future with expensive champagne served in fancy glasses. He shoved the thought aside as he yanked off his tuxedo coat and tossed it over the front seat, then rolled up his sleeves.

Sara grimaced, her face turning red from her exertion. After a moment, she exhaled. “I’m really glad you’re here, Cal, and that you’re a doctor. But, honestly, the way I feel right now, I wouldn’t care if you were a plumber.”

He gave in to the smile that threatened. “That’s good, Sara, ’cause I’m a vet.”

The color drained from her face. “A vet?” Her voice wavered. “You mean a veteran, as in foreign wars?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Veterinarian, as in moo.”

She caught his hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is no time to joke.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh, great! Do you know what to do?”

“Sure. It’s a piece of cake.” Cal leaned over her and, telling himself he shouldn’t, brushed a sweat-drenched curl behind her ear. This is the last place I want to be. But what better way to end the day from hell, than on the side of the road in a bad neighborhood with a woman…about to give birth.

“Then you’ve done this before?” she asked.

“No, but there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll get through it, together. Trust me, okay?”

His confidence had to have eased her worries, because she nodded, even gave him a tentative smile. “Do I have a choice?”

Cal shook his head. “Sara, I need to check the baby’s position,” he said, his voice rough and uneven.

Color now rushed to her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. He knew she had to be scared out of her wits, yet she remained calm, something Cal couldn’t imagine his fiancée—ex-fiancée—doing. He had to admit, despite Sara’s stubbornness, he admired her spirit and roll-with-the-punches attitude.

He waited for a wino to pass, then lifted her skirt. It took another moment to undress her so he could see the baby’s head crowning. Sara groaned and pushed.

A passing car honked. The shouts of children playing nearby drifted to Cal on the cold afternoon breeze. The enormity of the situation settled about him. He’d delivered foals valued anywhere from fifty to one hundred thousand dollars, but this child wasn’t an animal. Sara’s baby had decided to be born here and now, whether or not Cal liked it.

“What do you see?” she asked.

Cal bit back the sudden laughter that bubbled up inside him at Sara’s question. He doubted she’d appreciate his warped sense of humor at the moment. “Hmm. I see his head.”

“Her head.”

In spite of everything, he once again found himself smiling at the determination in Sara’s voice. “I’ll have to see the other end to know that.”

“I think you’re about to see it.” She pushed and grunted, and freed the baby’s head.

“Come on,” Cal said, frowning as he noticed the bluish tint to the baby’s coloring. “You’re almost there.”

Sara screamed. Tiny shoulders passed through, then the baby girl slid into his waiting hands. The infant squirmed, and he tightened his hold. Cal checked her mouth and nose as best he could, anxious to make sure her air passages were clear.

Soon the baby’s cries mixed with her mother’s tears of joy. Unlike the mostly silent births to which he’d grown accustomed, the music of life washed over him.

Cal looked at the tiny miracle cradled in his palms. He’d held new life before, though nothing this small or fragile. Why did holding this child make it difficult to breathe? He shook his head, trying to clear his befuddled mind.

The newborn’s eyes opened like a baby bird’s, and she stared up at him. Cal felt as though he’d been bucked off a bronc.

He’d brought a new human life into the world.

He’d delivered Sara’s baby.

“What is it, Cal? What’s wrong?” Even without seeing Sara’s face, he could hear the fear in her voice.

Doing his best to hold the slippery infant against his chest, he grabbed his jacket from the front seat and wrapped the baby in it. “Nothing. It’s a girl.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s perfect,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

When he caught the infant’s fist, her hand closed partway around his index finger. He stared at the tiny fingernails, so perfect in miniature. A tremor snaked up his spine.