Baby By The Book

Baby By The Book Kara Lennox Prologue: Susan Kilgore is in quite the predicament: pregnant, abandoned by her baby's father…and about to be penniless if she doesn't find a job!Chapters: Luckily, serious-minded Rand Barclay takes a chance and hires Susan. Everything seems to be running smoothly until.Susan's baby decides to be born in Rand's living room! But the bond formed between bachelor and baby is captivating, so much so that he asks Susan to move into his house, and sets up a bassinet in his office. And suddenly their once strictly business relationship becomes something much more intimate.The End?: Well, a happily-ever-after never comes without a few amazing twists. See inside for more details….American Baby: Unexpected arrivals lead to the sweetest surprises as Harlequin American Romance celebrates the love only a baby can bring! “Susan? Is everything okay?” No response. Rand knocked on the bedroom door, but still couldn't raise anyone. Returning to the nursery, he tapped again, then opened the door a crack. “Susan?” He peeked inside and saw her sitting in the rocker. Both Susan and Penny were sound asleep, though even in a deep sleep, Susan held her baby protectively against her. Relieved, Rand shook his head. Poor girl. She was so exhausted, she probably could have gone to sleep standing up. He couldn’t leave her that way. She hadn’t even taken off her high heels. He settled the baby into her bassinet, and she didn’t stir at all. Rand watched her sleep. He would never admit it, but there was something about babies that got to him. He’d been in heaven this evening, taking over Penny’s care. The baby girl was creeping under his skin. And so was her mother. Dear Reader, Every month Harlequin American Romance brings you four powerful men, and four admirable women who know what they want—and go all out to get it. Check out this month’s sparkling selection of love stories, which you won’t be able to resist. First, our AMERICAN BABY promotion continues with Kara Lennox’s Baby by the Book. In this heartwarming story, a sexy bachelor comes to the rescue when a pretty single mother goes into labor. The more time he spends with mother and child, the more he finds himself wanting the role of dad…. Also available this month is Between Honor and Duty by Charlotte Maclay, the latest installment in her MEN OF STATION SIX series. Will a firefighter’s determination to care for his friend’s widow and adorable brood spark a vow to love, honor and cherish? Next, JUST FOR KIDS, Mary Anne Wilson’s miniseries continues with an office romance between The C.E.O. & the Secret Heiress. And in Born of the Bluegrass by Darlene Scalera, a woman is reunited with the man she never stopped loving—the father of her secret child. Enjoy this month’s offerings, and be sure to return each and every month to Harlequin American Romance! Wishing you happy reading, Melissa Jeglinski Associate Senior Editor Harlequin American Romance Baby by the Book Kara Lennox www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) ABOUT THE AUTHOR Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copy writer, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels. When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel. Books by Kara Lennox HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE 840—VIRGIN PROMISE 856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS 871—TAME AN OLDER MAN 893—BABY BY THE BOOK Dear Reader, I’ve never had the privilege of giving birth to a child myself. Perhaps that is why I find the subjects of pregnancy, birth and babies so endlessly fascinating. So when my editor, Melissa Jeglinski, asked me if I had any “baby books” on the back burner, naturally I just happened to be noodling around with an idea. I tried to make my heroine, Susan, as clueless as I would be with a first pregnancy—and as scared, excited and overwhelmed, not to mention worried about looking fat. Poor Susan really needed help getting the hang of diapers and bottles, which made it lots of fun to pair her with Rand, a confirmed bachelor who, nonetheless, knew everything about babies. I can only imagine what it really feels like to bring a new life into the world, but writing it from Susan’s viewpoint gives me a definite vicarious thrill. I hope you’ll share it with me. Best, Contents Chapter One (#ud26eca36-6c63-53fe-a3cc-6718a4025c5b) Chapter Two (#u5f4323a7-73d9-55f6-b151-76dd26629091) Chapter Three (#uea8fa3ee-24db-58b5-8315-554445c99ffd) Chapter Four (#udcf44328-0ffa-58c4-a968-3ab40b334c59) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One Rand Barclay wrestled with the baby crib, trying unsuccessfully to reduce it to two dimensions. It had been nice and flat when he’d brought it down from the attic two years ago, when his younger sister, Alicia, had come home from the hospital with Dougy. Now it refused to fold up. He cursed the baby bed just as Clark Best walked into the room. Clark was his employee—estate manager, majordomo, butler, maid and cook rolled into one. The man was the epitome of efficiency, competence and hard work. He also happened to be Rand’s best friend. “Missing the little tyke already?” Clark asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He was up to something, but Rand had no idea what. “The only thing I miss is my office,” Rand growled. “And I’m taking it back. Now.” “Then let me do this.” Clark bent down, flicked some invisible lever, and the crib folded right up. He smiled smugly, his blindingly white teeth flashing in stark contrast to his dark skin. “You want it in the attic?” “Hell, no. Burn it. There will be no more babies in this house. Maybe I’ll be able to get some work done around here.” Clark snorted. “We’ll see about that.” He left the room, carrying the crib effortlessly under one arm. At six-foot-three and two hundred and forty pounds, Clark made most things look effortless—including a cheese souffl?. An old buddy from high school, Clark was in his last year of cooking school at Savannah’s Culinary Institute. He lived in one of Rand’s many spare rooms and ate prodigious amounts of Rand’s food in return for keeping the house running smoothly. Rand didn’t know what he would do in a few months when Clark graduated, got real a job, and moved out. Yes, he did know. Rand would be alone, just as he’d wanted to be since he’d bought this house after his first year at a successful medical practice. It had taken him the eight long years after that to get his three rambunctious younger sisters safely launched into the world. Then there was his mother. Rand loved her dearly, but the obstinate Marjorie Barclay had clung to Rand and this house like a tic on a hound dog. He had used every persuasive trick he could think of to get her to move to South Carolina’s most posh retirement village, where she could meet people her own age and develop some interests apart from her children. Fortunately, she’d adjusted quickly and now pretended the move had been all her idea. Rand contemplated the stacks of research books that had grown like stalagmites around his office during the past six months. He’d been setting the stage for the massive task of writing his book—collecting papers and articles on rare skin diseases, tracking down subjects, accumulating stacks and stacks of statistics. But he had yet to commit a single word to paper. Who could write with little kids underfoot and assorted females coming and going all the time, their high-pitched laughter and mindless chatter constantly in the background? One of his medical journals, he noticed, had a half-eaten lollipop stuck to it. But that was all over now. As of today, he was embarking on a new life, one of total independence. For a while, at least, Rand Barclay was going to focus on Rand Barclay. He was going to do what he wanted, buy what he wanted, work, sleep and eat when he wanted—in blissful solitude. And the first step was new bookshelves for his office—custom-made for his medical books and notes. Clark had already consulted a carpenter and negotiated a fee. Rand had signed off on the plans, which had arrived by messenger two days ago. Today the carpenter would start work. Rand could hardly wait until the shelves were done. He could organize his research materials instead of pawing through unruly stacks every time he wanted to find a piece of information. Clark came back into the room with a feather duster and went to work on Rand’s desk without saying a word. “So what time is the carpenter getting here?” Rand asked. “Should be any time.” Another mysterious smile. “But I still don’t see why you chose now to have bookshelves built. You’re supposed to finish your book…when?” “End of next month,” Rand said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. But whenever he thought about his deadline, his stomach swooped. “And how much have you gotten written?” Rand didn’t answer. “These bookshelves are just another excuse to procrastinate,” Clark said. “You can give a man a license to practice medicine, set him up at a primo research lab, but deep down he’s still a college kid, cramming for an exam at the last minute, finishing up a term paper at six in the morning—” “I did not get through med school by procrastinating. And you have no idea what’s involved in writing this textbook. It’s not like writing a term paper. You have to lay the groundwork for something like this. If you don’t make the proper preparations, the whole thing will get out of whack.” Clark rolled his eyes. “You can be the most pompous ass sometimes. And you don’t call this out of whack?” He made a sweeping gesture, encompassing every last untidy pile. “Yeah, yeah, put a sock in it.” Clark just smiled. They bantered like this all the time, and neither of them took offense. Clark had earned the right to insult Rand. He’d known Rand when he was “that no-good Barclay kid,” knobby knees and ill-fitting shoes and clothes that never quite went together. And yes, all right, Rand did procrastinate. He couldn’t fool Clark, who’d been witness to Rand’s time-management impairment since high school. But the job always got done. And the treatise would get written, too, just as soon as he had proper bookshelves. SUSAN KILGORE CLIMBED into her truck and cranked open the window before starting the engine. The weather was unseasonably warm for October, even in South Carolina. She checked the mirror, put her truck in gear and backed out of the driveway, waving to her landlady. Harriet Regis was a dear, and Susan hated the fact that she had to move out of the Regises’ attic apartment. But Mr. Regis was ill, and he needed a quiet tenant. Susan hadn’t even waited for Harriet to bring it up. She’d already gone out and found another apartment. It wasn’t as nice as this one, but it included a garage where she could set up her woodworking shop. As she drove past a convenience store, Susan thought longingly of a cup of coffee. How long had it been since she’d had one? No sense dwelling on all the things she couldn’t or didn’t have in her life right now, she lectured herself. Better to focus on what she did have, which was her first significant paying job since her father’s death more than a year ago. She’d quickly discovered that potential customers had no faith in a woman’s carpentry abilities. During the past few months, she’d scrounged up a little bit of work. She’d framed in a new door for her landlords, and she’d put new facings on the neighbor’s kitchen cabinets. But the big jobs had eluded her. And, in truth, she hadn’t tried as hard as she should have to get work. But the little nest egg her ex-boyfriend had left her—purely out of guilt—was gone, along with almost all of her own savings. If she didn’t revitalize the carpentry business immediately, she would have to get a nine-to-five job. And, let’s face it, who was going to hire her at this point? Thank goodness Clark Best had called, not realizing her father had passed on. She’d been completely honest with him, and then she’d had to grovel to get the job. But he’d given her a chance, bless his heart. Now it was up to her to convince Dr. Rand Barclay that she could build him the most awesome shelving unit he’d ever seen—solid mahogany, brass hardware… Oh, hell, who was she kidding? The minute he laid eyes on her, she would be out the door on her fanny. CLARK WAS BUSY IN the kitchen when the doorbell rang, so Rand answered it himself. A tall woman with long, dark hair in a sleek ponytail stood on his front porch, looking around uncertainly. She carried a huge sketch pad in front of her, so he could see nothing of her figure, but from the shoulders up she was breathtaking. She wasn’t a classic beauty—her face was a bit too angular for that. But her skin was flawless, her lips pink and moist, and her eyes—they were hard to look away from. A startling blue, they seemed to hold emotional depths Rand could never fathom. She blinked a couple of times at him. “Is this the Barclay residence?” “Yes, ma’am. I’m Rand Barclay.” “Hello, Dr. Barclay. I’m Susan Kilgore.” Clutching the sketch pad against her with one hand, she extended the other in an awkward handshake. Her hands were long, strong, and not very pretty, especially with those bitten nails. Yet Rand felt something odd when she touched him. He supposed it was because he wasn’t used to a woman shaking hands like a man. He waited for her to state her business. The silence stretched an uncomfortable length of time, and it seemed as if she expected to be invited in. Then he saw the truck in the driveway and the logo on the door: Kilgore Woodworking. “Oh, the bookshelves,” Rand finally said, feeling like an idiot. “Come right in.” He looked past her out to the driveway, expecting her father or brother to appear, but apparently she was alone. She stepped into the foyer and looked around. “This is a fine old house,” she said, almost wistfully. “I imagine it’s been in your family forever.” “No. I’ve only had it eight years. Frankly, it’s a bit of a pain. Always something going wrong.” Susan sighed. “Old houses just need a little more TLC—like old people.” “You have an old house then?” “No, but someday…” “The shelves go in here.” He led her into his lair. “Oh, my, yes,” she said from behind him. “I see why Clark called.” Rand studied his office, trying to see it with her eyes. The room was large, with French doors leading out to a patio on one end, a rolltop desk with a computer at the other, an unused fireplace with a faded wood mantel, and a chipped tile hearth, and not much else. One tiny, tired-looking oak bookcase overflowed with books, periodicals, and papers, along with a few office supplies. The rest of the room featured untidy piles of books and notes. “I want this room to be a real office,” he explained. “The plans you sent over are perfect. You can do one of those rolling staircases, right?” “Most definitely. When I’m done, you’ll have the prettiest office in all of Marlena.” “Pretty is fine, but I’m mainly interested in function. I’ll be using this office to research and write a medical textbook, and I need a place to organize my source material.” “I can see that.” He ventured a look at her. She’d stepped behind his desk to examine the wall, knocking on it. Then she pulled a small electronic gizmo from the pocket of her striped overalls and ran it along the wall, pausing to make a pencil mark. “What’s that?” he asked. “A stud finder.” Look no farther, darlin’, I’m right here. He couldn’t help his thoughts. Hell, he’d almost said it out loud. She was so pretty—even though he suspected she wasn’t trying. No makeup, no jewelry…He wished she would get out from behind his desk so he could see the rest of her. “So…do you have a father or brother who does the actual building?” he asked. Those soft blue eyes took on the look of a summer rain cloud. “My father’s deceased. It’s just me. I’m the Kilgore of Kilgore Carpentry.” “But…” “Yes?” He supposed he didn’t need to point out to Ms. Susan Kilgore that she was a woman. And he would sound like a Neanderthal if he expressed doubts about her abilities simply because she was female. He’d been in these situations enough in the past to know he had an uncanny ability to stick his foot right in his mouth. “Um, will you excuse me?” “Of course.” Rand headed for the kitchen, where he found Clark pouring sauce from a small pan into a Tupperware dish filled with some unidentifiable lumps. It wasn’t very pretty, but the smell made Rand’s mouth water. “Take a look at this,” Clark said. He wore a tall white hat and apron, which only served to emphasize his huge muscles. “Chitterlings and portabello mushrooms saut?ed in a white wine—” “Chitterlings!” Rand said in alarm. “I’ll pass, thanks.” “It’s not for you, it’s a project for class. We’re each supposed to take a family recipe and make it French.” “Your mother never made chitterlings.” Clark grinned. “Oh, yes, she did. We just told you it was something else. You want a taste?” “No, thanks.” Rand got to the point. “Did you know you hired a woman to build my bookcases?” “Oh. She’s here, huh?” Clark looked distinctly guilty as he snapped the lid over his masterpiece. “Yes, she’s here! And I can’t see how she can do the work. Carpentry involves a lot of heavy lifting, power tools…” Clark set the pan in the sink and ran water into it. “Look, Rand. I had doubts, too, when she told me her…situation. But she knows her stuff. And she sounded, you know, kind of desperate. Apparently not many people have given her a chance to prove herself.” “But this is my office we’re talking about. My bookshelves.” “Well, you can’t fire her now. You signed the contract.” “You tricked me! I’ll…I’ll pay her off.” “Can you look her in those big blue eyes and tell her she’s fired?” Rand narrowed his gaze. “How do you know she has big blue eyes?” “I’ve met her. She and her dad redid my mom’s staircase a couple years ago.” “Well, you hired her, you can fire her.” Clark glanced at his watch. “Golly gosh, look at the time. I’ll be late for class.” “Clark!” Clark whipped off his chef’s clothes in record time, grabbed his Tupperware, and scooted out the back door, ignoring Rand’s objections. “Well, hell,” Rand muttered. Better get it over with. He returned to his office to find Susan with her back to him, stretching a tape measure up to the ceiling. He’d always thought a woman in overalls was kind of cute. She squatted to run the tape measure to the floor, and the denim pulled tight across her bottom. She had a really nice bottom. Oh, Lord, he didn’t want to fire her. Even if he offered to pay off the contract, her feelings would be hurt. Maybe…maybe he could at least give her a chance. He would keep a close eye on her work, of course. No harm in that, was there? If at any time it seemed she wasn’t performing up to par, he could pull the plug then. She seemed to have some trouble standing. She had to grab onto the edge of the desk and pull herself up, conjuring up a familiar scene from Rand’s memory. He’d seen a woman make exactly that movement before… She turned, startled, when he cleared his throat, and her difficulty suddenly made sense. “You’re…you’re…” Rand sputtered. “I think the word you’re looking for is pregnant.” SUSAN WINCED IN anticipation of the explosion. She was busted, she knew it. Rand Barclay was going to throw her out, contract or no contract, and she had no recourse unless she wanted to sue him. Clark had warned her that Dr. Barclay was something of a curmudgeon, a man immersed in his work with little use for outside distractions. She hadn’t expected him to be such a hunk, though, with that raven-black hair flopping over his forehead and those piercing blue eyes, even bluer than her own. Even Gary, her ex-boyfriend, who’d had a blond, beach-bum sort of charm about him, didn’t hold a candle to this guy. With those wide shoulders and big biceps, she could picture him on the racquetball court or paddling a kayak through white water. But in a white coat behind a microscope? She glanced over to the blank wall where she’d just made her pencil marks where the studs were. It was completely radical of her to think she could do this job when she was pregnant. But she really needed the work, and with just a little help lifting the heavier pieces, she could achieve fantastic results—if only Rand would give her a chance. But her hopes plummeted as she studied his face, which looked like thunder. “Did Clark know when he hired you?” “Yes. I was completely honest with him.” “I’ll kill him.” She straightened her spine, prepared to do battle. “Don’t blame Clark. He said no at first, but I talked him into it.” “Well, you won’t talk me into it. I will not have a pregnant woman doing heavy manual labor in my house.” “But I can do this, I promise I can.” “Do you have any help?” “No. Look, I’ve been working with wood since I was five, Dr. Barclay.” “I’m not questioning your skills. But you can’t possibly build a massive project like this when you’re…How far along are you, anyway?” “About seven months,” she fudged. Really she was closer to eight, but she didn’t look that far along. “How are you going to lift big pieces of lumber and climb ladders in your condition?” “I’ve checked with my nurse-practitioner. I know my limitations. Besides, I’ve been working out at the gym every day. I’m strong as a broodmare. The harder I work, the better I feel. Just…just please give me a chance. I’m sure people have believed in you your whole life, but I haven’t had that luxury.” “Doesn’t your husband object to your doing this kind of work?” Susan fingered the plain gold band on her left hand. It was her mother’s. She’d started wearing it when she got tired of explaining to people that she didn’t have a husband. She could tell Rand the truth—that she wasn’t married and never had been, that the father of her baby had abandoned her before he even knew she was pregnant, that she was all alone in the world and nothing stood between her and the street except this job. But she didn’t want his pity. She wanted him to have faith in her. “My husband is not a problem.” He looked down at his shoes. Was it possible she was making headway? She decided to press her advantage, if she did indeed have one. “Although the shelves and cabinetry look massive on paper, this particular project doesn’t require much heavy work, and Clark promised to help. The lumberyard will do all the big cuts for me, so I won’t have to lift whole pieces of lumber or anything like that.” “Do you have insurance?” he asked. “Yes, of course. I can show you the policy—” “No, that’s not necessary.” He paused, staring out the window. He seemed to be deliberating. She held her breath. Please, please, please. He came closer, until he was only a step away from her, and eyed her up and down, making her feel like he was the stallion to that broodmare she’d mentioned earlier. What did he see? And did he like it? And why was she even wondering something so stupid? “I guess since I signed a contract, I have no choice.” She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him in gratitude and instead grasped both his hands. “You won’t be sorry, I promise. I’ll build you the best damn bookshelf you ever saw!” “Um, yes, right.” He extracted his hands from her enthusiastic grip. “But I don’t want to see you endangering yourself or your baby. I mean that. Contract or no contract, I will throw you out in a New York minute if you so much as—” “I won’t.” “You’ll be able to finish the job before your, er, family addition arrives, right?” Susan felt a lump rising in her throat. Family addition. That was ironic, seeing as she had no family. She forced a smile. “This job should take two weeks—well, three, tops.” And she was a good four weeks from her due date. That was cutting it a bit close, but she was pretty sure she could make it. Chapter Two “I just need to get my stepladder off the truck so I can finish the measurements,” Susan said. Rand felt like he’d just been through a tornado. Had he really agreed to let a pregnant woman build his bookcases? But she was damn persuasive. He could see now why Clark had caved in to her—and why he’d acted so guilty and made such a quick escape. “I’ll carry the ladder,” he said firmly. “Then I’ll climb it for you.” “That’s not really necessary,” she said with equal firmness. “The ladder isn’t heavy, and I’ve been climbing it since before I could walk.” “But your equilibrium has changed.” “I’ve adjusted.” Rand didn’t argue. He’d learned over the years that arguing with a woman was fruitless. He simply walked outside with her and grabbed the ladder. “I can get that,” she insisted, standing with her arms folded stubbornly. She stood right in his way, so that he couldn’t slide the ladder out of its rack without physically picking her up and moving her. With a shrug he stepped back and let her slide the ladder off the truck. She didn’t seem to be straining, so he let her carry it, though he was bewildered by her behavior. His mother had been single through most of his childhood—her second husband hadn’t stuck around much longer than Rand’s own father. So Rand had helped raise his three half sisters and spent most of his formative years as the only male in the family. But females were still an alien species to him. He’d tried to understand them, really he had. But usually when he engaged them in conversation, they either stared blankly at him or talked a mile a minute about something that made no sense to him. Even his sisters fell into that category. There just didn’t seem to be a connection between the functioning of the female brain and his own. He hovered as Susan set up the ladder. “You’re sure you don’t want me to—” “I can do it,” she said with a confident smile. “I’m only going up two steps. It’s not like I’m scaling the Sears Tower.” And for no good reason, she smiled. That smile totally blew him away. It lit up her whole face, making him wonder what her hair would look like down, free from the no-nonsense ponytail. Whoa. Rand put the skids on that line of thought. Susan Kilgore was attractive—he’d have to be dead not to notice. But she obviously belonged to another man, so there was no chance of any chemistry between them. Not that he’d want that. He had a book to write, and he wanted no distractions. Those eyes could distract the Devil himself…. “I’m nearby if you need anything.” He moved closer to his desk, but his work held no interest when another, more alluring view tempted him. She climbed the ladder sideways so her full stomach didn’t get in the way, and she seemed completely comfortable—no wobbling. He wished she’d let him help. The idea of building something with this woman, working side by side with her, was oddly appealing. That was bizarre, he thought as he flipped through a stack of Web pages he’d printed out and stacked them by subject matter. He’d spent a great deal of time with females and had certainly done his share of dating. He appreciated the female form—in all its variations, apparently, given his physical reaction to Susan. But he was always happiest if he could take a woman to a movie or concert where they didn’t have to talk. Even better if they could just cut to the chase and go to bed. Lately he hadn’t even bothered. His liaisons never lasted, and the awkward gropings in the dark that had once satisfied his libido now left him unfulfilled. He realized he was a dinosaur. Men these days talked to their women. They engaged in deep, meaningful conversations about their relationship, and if they couldn’t, they went to therapy. Even Clark, who’d been the most macho member of the Georgia Tech football team a few years back, often spent hours at a time talking with Deirdre, his girlfriend. When Rand asked Clark what they talked about, Clark just shrugged and said, “Everything under the sun.” And he got a stupid smile on his face. “Rand?” He was at her side in an instant. “Is something wrong?” “I just thought, since you want to help, you could hold the tape measure for me.” “Oh. Sure.” Their fingers brushed as she handed him her industrial-sized metal tape measure. He kept a wary eye on her while she stretched the tape this way and that and recorded the measurements on a pocket computer. What was that scent she wore? Vanilla? Peaches? He’d never been very good at telling one girly smell apart from another. She moved with incredible grace for a pregnant woman. The fact that she was moving at all amazed him. When his sisters had been in their last trimester, they’d hardly been able to make it from the couch to the kitchen. “I’m not keeping you from something, am I?” Susan asked. “Clark said you were working on some important medical textbook.” He didn’t really want to talk about his work. The minute he mentioned to a woman what he really did for a living, her eyes glazed over. “What kind of doctor are you, anyway?” she continued, oblivious to his reticence. “I’m a dermatologist,” he admitted. Dermatology had to be one of the least glamorous medical disciplines, right up there with urology. “But I don’t see patients anymore,” he said. “I work strictly in the lab doing research.” “On what?” she wanted to know. “Not a cure for cancer or anything so glamorous. I’m studying allergic skin rashes.” Which was where most people’s curiosity came to an abrupt halt—unless they happened to be the victim of a troublesome rash, in which case he got more details about it than he ever cared to know. Susan didn’t vary from the norm. “Someone’s got to study rashes, I suppose.” She returned her attention to her work. Another scintillating conversation. Why did he have such a hard time with this? Not that it really mattered. He might be attracted to Susan—and let’s face it, he was, regardless of her state of pregnancy—but she was completely out of reach. SUSAN ARRIVED AT Rand’s house early the next morning, eager to get to work. As she climbed out of her truck, her stomach seemed suddenly huge to her, straining against her striped overalls. Had she grown overnight? She found herself wishing she could wear one of those cute little Empire-waist maternity dresses she’d seen in the window at a shop downtown. Wearing those breezy floral fabrics, lined with delicate lace, even a woman the size of a small hippopotamus could feel feminine. In her overalls, Susan just felt fat and ungainly. It hadn’t really bothered her before now. Rand opened the front door before she could even knock. He wore a pristine white lab coat, open at the front to reveal a blue shirt and silk tie, making Susan more positive than ever that scientists weren’t as nerdy as their stereotypes suggested. And he carried a fragrant cup of coffee, making her despise him. She wanted coffee, damn it. “Good morning,” she said. “Is Clark around?” “Why do you need him?” Rand asked bluntly. “He promised to help me carry in this lumber and my tools.” She hated having to ask. “I’ll do it.” “But you’ll get your nice white coat all dirty.” “I wear the nice white coat so I don’t get my clothes dirty. That’s what lab coats are for.” He sat his coffee down on the porch railing and flexed his arms above his head. Holy cow, did he have any idea what he was doing to her already messed-up hormones? The soft blue button-down shirt he wore stretched and strained against his chest, and he seemed oblivious to the stiff northern breeze that blew today, bringing a touch of winter to the Carolinas. His attitude was hardly cheerful, but Susan wasn’t going to complain. He hadn’t fired her yet. Rand wouldn’t hear of her carrying anything, even the smaller pieces of wood. Since he was writing the checks, she let him have the last word, but she wasn’t happy about it. She’d promised herself she would never, ever lean on a man again. Phrases from Gary’s “Dear Jane” letter drifted into her consciousness: clinging vine…dependent…draining all my energy…parasite. She would be the first to admit she’d been a little crazy when she’d lived with Gary. He’d met her at the hospital just minutes after she’d witnessed her father’s life slip away. She’d been distraught, unsure what to do next, and he’d simply taken her under his wing and made all her decisions for her. What a relief it had been, after her father’s long illness and the money problems and business problems, to simply let go. Gary had wanted her to depend on him. Falling in love with him had been effortless—how could she not fall in love with a handsome white knight who was right there all the time to slay even her smallest dragons? Unfortunately, she’d continued to lean on him long after the trauma of losing her father. He’d just made it so damn easy—he’d encouraged it. She thought that was what he wanted, and she wanted more than anything to make him happy after all he’d done for her. Her devotion had backfired in a big way. She’d had no idea she was driving him crazy. Her first clue was when she’d come home from her doctor’s appointment and found the note. She’d not seen him again. He’d disappeared like a soap bubble in the wind, completely ignorant of the fact that he would shortly be a father. “I don’t want to make you late for work,” Susan said to Rand as she trotted after him on his third trip from the truck to the house. “I can take it from here.” “I think I’ll stay home today. Now might be a good time to get some writing done.” “While I’m working? I’ll be kicking up sawdust and making a lot of awful noise.” “I’ve got to at least get the books out of your way so you have enough room to work,” Rand persisted. Since this was true, she almost let it slide. Then something occurred to her. “You don’t trust me.” “Of course I trust you,” he said easily as he reclaimed his coffee cup on their final trip. “You don’t. You’re going to keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t mess up.” “Not true. I need a day off.” “Then take the day off! Go to the zoo or something.” He didn’t go away. He lurked, he hovered, he tried to help her lift pieces of wood that a butterfly could have carried off. “Did it ever occur to you,” she asked, “that I might enjoy the feeling of accomplishment I get from doing a job on my own?” “You won’t like the feeling of a strained back,” he said. “You pull something out of whack now, you might not be able to pick up your own baby.” All right, so he had a point. Though she was always careful—her father had suffered with numerous back problems and she didn’t want to end up like that—she should be taking extra precautions at this time. She let him pick up the blasted board and hold it in place. After a while, it became easier to just let him do what he wanted. She would never get this job done if she argued with him every step of the way. Besides, she sort of liked looking at him, especially later in the day when his sleeves were rolled up and his hair mussed, and she could detect the slight odor of hard work on a clean man. RAND SPENT THE ENTIRE morning trying to find an excuse to fire Susan. He watched her every move, searching for some sign of incompetence—a corner that didn’t meet cleanly, a board that had been mismeasured, or holes that weren’t drilled in the exact right places. But he could find no fault in the woman’s work. She knew what she was doing. He also looked for signs that this work was too hard for a pregnant woman. But Susan had endless stamina and energy to spare—and she seemed to enjoy her work. She often smiled while she worked, or whistled, or hummed. He liked that she didn’t fill the silence between them with useless prattle. She didn’t talk endlessly about her pregnancy the way his sisters had. She didn’t probe into his personal life, but she did show an interest in his work. Whether her fascination was genuine or merely polite, it flattered him. Most people groaned and changed the subject. By the second day, Rand decided to ask a personal question of his own. She’d been evasive when he’d brought up the subject before, and he hadn’t pressed for more information. Now was a better time. “What does your husband do?” Susan nearly dropped her screwdriver. He’d evidently startled her. “He’s an engineer,” she answered, recovering her poise quickly, “but he left his job recently…” She shrugged, then returned her attention to the drawer she was building. An engineer. Didn’t they make buckets of money? It sounded like maybe he’d been laid off and was unemployed. Surely he hadn’t voluntarily left a decent job when his wife was expecting a baby. Clearly Susan didn’t want to talk about her husband, so Rand let it be. He hoped that, whatever her domestic problems were, they weren’t too serious. A new baby brought a lot of stress into a home even under the best conditions—and didn’t he know it. Still, it sounded as if Susan was underappreciated at home, at the very least. Hell, if she was his wife… What a completely weird thought. If Susan’s husband had any idea Rand found her so alluring, he’d come over here and flatten Rand. That night after she left, the house was incredibly quiet. No crying babies, no feminine chatter, no power tools, not even anyone puttering in the kitchen. Clark had just left for an early date with Dierdre. A perfect time to start organizing those books, Rand thought. He and Susan had merely moved stacks from one side of the room to the other, then covered them with plastic. Rand returned to the office and peeled back the plastic. He would put the medical texts in one area, organized by subject. Then the journals. He ought to get a file box for those untidy clippings and photocopies. And all those computer printouts—he ought to get a special box for those, too. Then there were the photographs… He’d better make a trip to the office supply store. No time like the present. And Clark thought he procrastinated. Hah! WHEN SUSAN ARRIVED the next morning, she was surprised to find a host of different colored file boxes, accordion files, folders, dividers. Rand sat at his roll-top desk, unwrapping packages of colored pens, self-sticking notepads of various sizes, reams of computer paper. “Looks like you wiped out the office supply store.” He looked up. “Oh, hi. I just thought the organizing would go better if I had the proper tools.” “Uh-huh. I’m sure you’re right.” “Now don’t you start on me. Clark says I’m procrastinating again. I tried to explain to him that it was the same thing as trying to cook a gourmet dinner for twelve without all the ingredients and the right cookware. Or like you building a bookshelf without the right woods and tools. You can’t just jump into these things half-cocked.” Susan picked up a small piece of wood and started hand sanding a sharp corner. “Of course not,” she said soothingly. “Out of curiosity, how long have you been researching?” “Oh, I don’t know. A couple of years.” “So, how does that work? Does someone pay you to do the research?” “I have a grant from the National Institutes of Health and Harvard Medical School.” “Do you have a deadline or something?” “Actually, I was supposed to have a draft to committee by the end of this month, but I’ve gotten a deadline extension.” He flipped on his computer. “I wonder if I need a new word processing program.” What he needed, Susan thought, was a kick in the butt to make him start working. But it was none of her business. “I’m getting ready to make sawdust. You probably want to turn off the computer and cover it.” “Oh, right. I was going to start working on my introduction, but I guess that can wait.” “You could take one of those new legal pads and sit outside to write,” she suggested. “Good idea.” Rand puttered around his desk, selecting a pad and the right pen. But somehow he never got out of the office. He kept finding little things to do, small ways to help Susan. Before she knew it, Clark was calling them to lunch. Susan felt ridiculous, sitting in the formal dining room in her dusty overalls, eating with real china and silver. But she couldn’t argue with the food. Clark managed to make a simple chicken salad into a work of gastronomic art. Even the pile of potato chips on her plate were an exotic, multicolored affair. Left to her own devices, she probably would have made do with a cheese sandwich. “Do you eat like this every day?” she couldn’t help asking Rand. “If Clark was cooking for me, I’d be big as a—never mind.” Her face heated, especially when she noticed Rand looking determinedly down at his plate, fighting a smile. “Oh, go ahead and say what you’re thinking,” she groused. “I’m already as big as a house.” “Just a small house,” Rand said. Clark, who was just sitting down to join them, stared at Rand. “Did you just make a joke?” Then he looked at Susan. “I think he made a joke, don’t you? Let’s see, the last time that happened was nineteen—” “Oh, knock it off,” Rand said. “Susan’s going to think I’m an ogre.” “He’s not an ogre,” Clark hastened to say. “He’s just been acting like one ever since Alicia and Dougy moved out.” Susan’s ears pricked up. She had gathered Rand wasn’t married. Had his marriage recently broken up? “My sister and her son,” Rand clarified. “Don’t listen to Clark. I’ve been all sweetness and light. After eight years, all of my sisters are financially independent of me and I finally have the place to myself. Alicia just moved in with her fianc?, and I couldn’t be happier.” Personally, Susan thought living in a house this size all by yourself, or even with Clark, would be a waste. This was a house meant for families. She wondered why Rand had chosen to be alone. He didn’t seem antisocial. Had he been badly hurt by a woman? RAND WANTED TO WORK on his book, he really did. But he found it difficult to concentrate with Susan in the same room. He found himself staring at her, fascinated. Although at first he’d thought her hands unattractive, after he’d spent hours watching them gripping a power tool or running lightly over a piece of wood to check the smoothness of its grain, he completely changed his mind. He couldn’t recall ever being attracted to strength and manual dexterity in a woman, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed those things about Susan Kilgore—in a very visceral way. Of course, he would never let on that he was even mildly attracted to her. She obviously had no use for him. The rest of the week passed without incident. Susan made steady progress on the bookshelves, and Rand started to feel almost comfortable around her. She didn’t demand from him the incomprehensible things other women wanted. He wasn’t required to show interest in subjects that bored him. She did not expect him to solve her problems. He didn’t have to spend money on her, other than what was contracted. She certainly had no designs on his body, thank God. She was…nonthreatening. Food for his fantasies, and nothing more. But the fantasies—those were wild. Sometimes he couldn’t help remembering her scent, or thinking about what her hair would feel like tickling his chest, or other, more earthy things. This wasn’t the sort of pointless activity he normally engaged in—especially regarding a woman who was claimed by another man in so obvious a way. But he seemed helpless to stop the alluring thoughts. On Monday morning, however, she arrived at his house in an inexplicably hellacious mood. She cursed at the wood, at her tools, at herself for being clumsy. She ordered him out of the room twice, but he managed to wander back in. He should have gone into the lab, since he was getting nothing accomplished at home. But he’d promised Alicia he would baby-sit Dougy this morning while she went on a job interview, and she was due to arrive any time. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked Susan mildly. “Just stay out of my way.” Then she dropped her hammer and doubled over in pain. Chapter Three No, it couldn’t be, Susan thought as she knelt clutching her abdomen. “Susan!” Rand was at her side in an instant. “Don’t stop breathing. That’s it, relax…. Is this what I think it is?” “It can’t be,” Susan said when she could talk. The pain subsided after a few seconds, almost as if it had never been there. “It’s three weeks early!” “Okay, don’t panic,” Rand said soothingly. “Does it—three weeks? I thought you said you were—” “I, um, stretched the truth a little. I figured the less pregnant you thought I was, the better my chances of keeping this job.” “Oh, hell.” He looked like he wanted to wring her neck, and the only thing preventing him was her physical distress. “So did that feel like a labor pain?” “How would I know? I’ve never had one before.” “Does it feel like you imagine labor pains might feel?” he persisted, though he did help her to her feet and lead her over to one of the club chairs. He whipped the plastic off and made her sit down. Then he claimed the other chair and peered at her till she felt compelled to answer. “It felt like a big hand grabbed me around my middle and squeezed as hard as it could.” And it had scared the bejeezus out of her. “That sounds like a labor pain, all right.” “How would you know?” She wasn’t sure why she was being so cross with him. It seemed easier to bear her fear by masking it with anger. “First, I’m a doctor,” he said, as if explaining something to an idiot. “Delivering babies isn’t my specialty, but I had to do an obstetrics rotation just like every other doctor. And second, my three sisters have five children among them, and I was there when every single one of them went into labor.” “How did you manage that?” “Because my sisters—they spend a lot of time here. How many babies have you watched being born?” “Okay, okay.” “Feeling better now?” The lines of his face had relaxed slightly. “Yes. I feel perfectly fine. I think it must have been a fluke. Something I ate.” “Possibly,” he said, sounding doubtful. “Have you felt anything else strange this morning? Any sensations out of the ordinary?” She had. Her lower back had been aching, but she’d figured that was perfectly normal, given the punishment she’d put her body through the past few days. She’d also felt kind of a funny pressure, down there, but she didn’t recall any mention of that as a precursor to labor in any of her maternity books, so she hadn’t thought much of it. At any rate, she wasn’t going to discuss that with Rand. It was much too personal, doctor or not. “I’ve felt fine,” she fibbed. “I’ll just get back to work.” She stood, despite Rand’s troubled frown, and retrieved the hammer she’d dropped. She resumed work and after a couple of minutes managed to convince herself everything was fine, though Rand had not moved from his chair and he continued to study her like she was one of his lab experiments. Then another pain gripped her, stronger than the first. She nearly fell over from the force of it. But Rand was suddenly there, his hands on her shoulders steadying her. “Easy, there. Another one?” “Uh-huh.” “Okay, just go with it. Don’t fight it. Breathe, relax…” Her breathing was more like gasping, and she whimpered like a kicked dog, much to her embarrassment. But Rand just kept murmuring gentle encouragements to her. She focused on the soothing sound of his voice, the feel of his big hands on her shoulders, and after a few moments she realized the pain had receded. “All right now?” he asked, practically dragging her back to the chair she’d just vacated. She nodded. “Then let’s get you to the hospital. Which one were you planning to use?” “None of them,” she admitted. “I was planning to have a home birth, with a midwife. And that’s still what I want.” RAND JUST STARED AT Susan. It took a few moments for what she’d said to sink in. Home birth? He knew that was an increasingly popular choice, but he’d never personally known anyone who did it. “It’s a perfectly legitimate alternative to hospital births,” she said, crossing her arms defensively over her stomach. “My midwife is a nurse-practitioner. I’ve been healthy as a horse throughout the whole pregnancy, so I’m a perfect candidate.” “You’re three weeks early.” His one statement diminished everything she’d said, and she knew it. He could tell by the way she didn’t meet his gaze. He grabbed the phone and handed it to her. “Why don’t you call your midwife and see what she has to say?” He knew he was taking a chance. But if the woman really was a trained nurse-practitioner, she knew as well as he did the increased risks a premature birth entailed, especially for the baby. He handed Susan the phone. Home birth? Not in his home she wasn’t. She made the call, and he busied himself at his desk sharpening his new pencils with the new noiseless pencil sharpener he’d just bought. After a couple of minutes she put down the phone, looking defeated. “Arnette agrees with you. She said she’ll meet me at Savannah City. She participates in a midwife program there.” Relief washed through Rand. As an M.D., he knew he was somewhat prejudiced, but birth outside of a sterile hospital delivery room sounded almost barbaric to him in this day and age. “Savannah City has an excellent obstetrics unit,” he said as he helped her out of her chair. “You can do all-natural childbirth, if you want. But they also have an excellent neonatal unit standing by.” Susan’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you really think something will be wrong with her? What if they have to put her in one of those glass cases with all the tubes and needles—” “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said, trying to convince himself as well as her. He didn’t blame Susan for being frightened half out of her wits. He wasn’t exactly calm himself. Hell, he was a doctor. He wasn’t supposed to be upset by a medical emergency. When any of his sisters had gone into labor, he was always the calm voice of reason. But none of them had been early. “Where are we going?” she asked when he steered her toward the kitchen. “The garage? My car? Or were you planning to hitchhike to Savannah?” “You’re going to drive me?” “How else did you imagine you would get there? She blinked a couple of times. “Drive myself?” Another pain hit her then. She didn’t howl the way his sisters had. She whimpered. And it just about tore his heart out. The back of his neck prickled with fear. After the pain had passed, Rand took Susan through the kitchen where Clark was basting a small roast chicken. “I’m taking Susan to the hospital,” Rand announced. Clark grinned. “Why don’t you just change your specialty to obstetrics?” “Very funny. I don’t think Susan appreciates jokes right now.” He headed for the back door. “Touchy, touchy.” Clark shoved the roasting pan back into the oven and pulled off his apron. “It’s not like you haven’t done this drill a time or two. Hold on, don’t leave without me.” “You’re coming, too?” Susan asked. “Rand’ll need someone to drive so he can focus on vital signs and timing contractions and all that.” “All right, all right, hurry up,” Rand said. He hit the garage door opener just as a familiar Jeep pulled into the driveway. Oh, hell. It was Alicia and Dougy. Gesturing wildly as if her car were a 747, he guided his sister into a parking space so she wouldn’t block his exit from the garage. “Clark, get Susan settled into the back seat of the Bronco. Alicia!” he called as his sister exited her car. “No time to explain. Put Dougy’s car seat in the back of the Bronco. He can go to Savannah with us.” Alicia, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, did not look ready for a job interview. “Savannah?” “To the hospital,” he explained. “Hurry up! Can’t you see this is an emergency?” Alicia looked at Susan. “You’re having a baby?” “It appears so.” “Oh, what great fun!” Alicia said excitedly. “Can we go? My job interview got rescheduled.” “Susan’s labor is not a spectator event!” Rand objected. It felt like everyone was moving in slow motion. Was he the only one feeling the raw edges of panic? “I’m great in a crisis,” Alicia said, appealing straight to Susan. “I went through this less than two years ago, so I know everything. I’m Rand’s sister, Alicia, by the way. Do you want me to come?” Susan managed a smile. “Sure, the more the merrier.” Rand threw up his hands in defeat. They all piled into the Bronco, Clark driving, Alicia in the passenger seat, Dougy, Rand, and Susan in back. “No one has to give me directions,” Clark said, taking off. Savannah was forty-five minutes away. Susan’s contractions came with reassuring regularity, about five minutes apart. That meant she was definitely in labor, Rand told her. In his most doctorlike voice, he assured her there was plenty of time, but he felt more like a nervous, first-time father than a seasoned medical professional. He hadn’t felt this nervous even when he was a clueless kid, driving his mother to the hospital—with no driver’s license—so she could have Alicia. What was it about Susan that made him so afraid for her? Halfway to Savannah, something occurred to Rand. “My God, Susan, we haven’t even called your husband! Someone give me a cell phone. I’ll dial it for you.” “I’ve got one,” Alicia said brightly, digging through her purse. “It’s in here somewhere.” “That’s all right,” Susan said. “I, um, won’t be able to get in touch with him now, anyway.” “You mean he can’t be reached?” Rand asked, incensed. “Isn’t he the least bit worried about you? Doesn’t he have a beeper or something?” Susan shook her head. “I’ll call him…later.” Something was funny about her reaction. She did not seem overjoyed at the prospect of telling her husband he was about to be a daddy. And was she crying? “Oh, all right, you might as well know,” she said, sniffing back tears. “I don’t have a husband to call.” A stunned silence followed Susan’s announcement. Rand was more than surprised. All this time he’d thought Susan was so safe, so…so untouchable. He’d actually started feeling comfortable around her. A pregnant, married woman was no threat at all. But a pregnant, single woman… “You lied to me about that, too?” SUSAN HAD BEEN HOPING she wouldn’t have to reveal to Rand that she was an unwed mother—it was so embarrassing. She’d figured she’d be done with the bookshelves and far away from Rand before he could discover the truth. But she couldn’t continue with the farce of the fictional husband. She looked at him. He didn’t meet her gaze, and the expression on his face was impenetrable. Had she shocked him? Disgusted him? He definitely did not seem pleased with her news. “Everything I told you about Gary was true,” she said. “Except he was never my husband. And he’s gone.” “I know just what you’re going through,” Alicia piped in, breaking the awkward tension. “Dougy’s birth father wasn’t around either. But with all my own family to take up the slack, I hardly noticed anybody missing. I had six labor coaches, counting Clark.” Susan relaxed a little. Rand’s sister, a short-haired pixie with huge, dark eyes, was an absolute delight, and she, at least, would stop the others from tossing her out on the side of the road. “It sounds like your family is very supportive.” “And I’m sure yours will be, too. Here, why don’t you call everybody you know?” Alicia handed her the phone. Susan didn’t take it. “I don’t really have anybody to call.” It was painful to admit it, but she had no one. She was an only child, and both parents were deceased. She had some distant relatives in Illinois, but that was it. As for friends, she had let them fall by the wayside when she’d gotten so wrapped up in her relationship with Gary. And after he’d left, she’d just folded in on herself. The only person she’d confided in lately was Arnette, her midwife, who was the closest thing she had to a friend, and Mrs. Regis. Alicia, craning around to look at her, wore an expression of sympathy. “We’ll be your family, then, won’t we, guys? Babies are such exciting events. And the Barclay family knows how to do it up right. I’ll call Betty and Bonnie, too. They’ll want to come.” “Alicia!” Rand scolded. “Why don’t you call Mom while you’re at it?” “Oh, now, that would be a treat.” Alicia started pushing buttons on the phone. Rand pulled the phone out of her hands. “You’re not calling anyone. Susan doesn’t even know us! I’m sure she doesn’t want a bunch of strangers around while she’s having a baby.” Susan wanted to correct him. For some odd reason, she did want a lot of people around. For all these months, she hadn’t exactly viewed her pregnancy with joy. It had been more of a problem to overcome, a strategic challenge. Still, sometimes, when the baby kicked inside, Susan would feel a wave of affection for the life she was bringing into the world. She knew she would find the reserves to be a good mother. But there’d been no giddy anticipation, no real excitement, just a lot of apprehension about how she would take care of this child when her own life was such a mess. The idea of a bunch of excited people hanging around to talk her through the pain, to rejoice with her over the birth, to ooh and aah over the newborn, had an inordinate amount of appeal. And the idea that Rand would be one of those people, maybe holding her hand, whispering encouragement in her ear, giving her ice chips, mopping her sweaty brow, was the most appealing aspect of all. Now, what was wrong with this picture? Rand was her client. She’d lied to him about several things, and now he’d been shanghaied into shuttling her to the hospital. That didn’t exactly qualify him as her labor coach. But the fantasy had lodged itself in her mind and wouldn’t be evicted. Another contraction hit her, much stronger than the others had been. She let out a yelp, then censored herself. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, let it out,” Alicia said. “Scream like a banshee. Everybody expects it, and you’ll get more sympathy.” Susan laughed through tears of pain. “I don’t want to scream. It’s so undignified.” “Undignified, unshmignified,” Alicia returned. “All the books tell you it hurts—they just don’t tell you how much.” “You got that right.” “It hurts more than when I broke my arm in third grade.” “It hurts a lot more than when I had a root canal,” Susan added. “I’ve heard passing a kidney stone hurts worse,” Clark added. “Only a man would say that,” Alicia said. “Hurts worse than having your legs waxed.” “Hurts worse than cutting your finger almost all the way off with a band saw,” Susan said. “Have you done that?” “See the scar? I was five.” She extended her hand for Alicia’s inspection. Silly as their game was, it did take her mind off the pain, and her fear. God, please let the baby be all right. “Who are you, anyway?” Alicia suddenly asked, softening the abrupt question with a laugh. “Rand’s obviously been hiding a secret or two from us.” “Alicia!” Rand exploded. “She’s not my secret. She’s my carpenter. She’s building a shelving unit in the office.” “Oh.” Alicia gave her brother an appraising look, as if she didn’t quite believe that story. She looked at Susan. “You’re redoing his office?” Susan didn’t answer because another contraction hit. Dougy, who’d been remarkably quiet and well-behaved, studied her curiously from his car seat as she panted her way through the pain. Rand answered Alicia’s question. “Don’t you think it’s about time I turned that room back into an office? My nieces and nephews have laid waste to it for seven years. Anyway, I’ve got a real need for it now.” “Ah, yes, the infamous skin-rash term paper.” “Jeez, I get no respect. It’s a textbook.” The argument ended there, because they’d arrived at the hospital. THE MOMENT SUSAN WAS spirited away to her labor room, a woman thrust a clipboard at Rand. “You’ll need to fill out these forms, sir.” “Oh, I’m not the husband…father…whatever.” “Then where is he?” “He won’t be here,” Rand said, unable to communicate Susan’s unwed state without feeling like a gossip. “Well, her next of kin will need to fill out these papers.” With a sign of resignation, Rand took the clipboard. “I’ll take care of it.” A few minutes later, after Susan was firmly ensconced in her cozy labor/delivery room, Rand broached her about the papers. “I can fill them out, if you’ll tell me what to write,” he offered. “I guess we have to,” she said uneasily. The first part went smoothly enough. Name, address, phone. For “person to notify in case of emergency,” she thought a long while, then said, “Harriet Regis” and rattled off a phone number. “Anyone else?” Rand asked. “No.” She had another contraction, and her water broke. Arnette, the midwife, arrived and talked her through it. Meanwhile, Rand stepped off into a corner and wrote in his own name and phone as a second emergency contact. Just in case. Rand waited until Alicia and Clark left to find some coffee and Arnette went outside to take a phone call before asking Susan about insurance—the next set of papers to be filled out. She sighed gustily. “That’s why I wanted to do this at home. I don’t have any.” “Insurance? You don’t have any at all? You told me you did!” “I have liability insurance,” she answered softly. “And I have health insurance, too, but it doesn’t cover the pregnancy. I signed up for it too late.” Rand didn’t know quite what to say to that. Having a baby was an expensive proposition, medically speaking. Costs would skyrocket if there were any problems with her or the baby…no, he didn’t want to think about that. He was less nervous now that Susan was safely hospitalized, but his mouth still felt like he’d just eaten five Saltines at once, and his heart still beat at twice its normal rhythm. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, “that it’s completely irresponsible for anybody to get pregnant without insurance.” “Sometimes life doesn’t go according to our plans,” he said diplomatically, though he was aghast at Susan’s mounting misfortunes. “Well, I’m not irresponsible. My…Gary, the baby’s father, left quite unexpectedly. He quit the company he was working for and let them cancel both of our insurance policies without telling me.” “When you were pregnant?” Rand sputtered. How could anyone be that coldhearted? “He didn’t know I was pregnant. I was going to tell him, and then he was gone, and I was such a mess it was a couple of months before I even thought about insurance. By then it was too late.” “It seems to me he ought to be held accountable for your medical expenses,” Rand said with a lot more control than he felt inside. A decent man doesn’t put a woman in danger like that. But Gary obviously wasn’t decent if he could care so little for Susan’s welfare. Kind of like Rand’s own father, now that he thought about it. “I agree,” Susan said. “Only one problem. I can’t find him.” “You’ve tried?” “Yes. For months. He left me a note asking me not to contact him, and he took great pains to make sure I couldn’t find him. Even his former co-workers play dumb.” “What about his family?” She shrugged. “I don’t know where they are, either. We’d only been living together for about six months. I’d never met his family. He was sort of vague about them, hinting around that they weren’t on the best of terms.” “His family probably disowned him.” Rand wondered if Gary made a habit of collecting women, dumping them after a few months, and disappearing. He refrained from saying anything else negative, but only to spare distressing Susan further. “You don’t really want to find him, do you?” Rand asked. “Yes. Yes, I really do.” Her eyes shined—with excitement or tears, he wasn’t sure. “Every child should have a chance to know his or her father.” At her animated answer, Rand’s heart sank a little. He knew enough from his psych rotation to understand why he felt the inappropriate disappointment. He had become, at least temporarily, the most important person in Susan’s life. He did not enjoy the idea of this Gary reappearing in her life and suddenly taking over. He could find Gary for her. He had resources she didn’t have—money, contacts. But he wasn’t going to make the effort. She was so much better off without the bum—didn’t she realize that? Damn! Why did he suddenly feel so protective of her? She was an adult, not a child, not one of his sisters to be guided through a rough patch in her life. They went back to the forms, and she recounted her medical history, which was surprisingly sparse. Other than the accident with the saw, she’d never seen the inside of a hospital, and apparently had rarely seen a doctor. “I told you I was healthy as a horse,” she said. Then another contraction hit. “Ow, ow, ow, ow!” She sobbed out a couple of curse words. Rand broke out in a sweat. This was the sort of outburst he was used to from seeing his sisters in labor, but it seemed more alarming coming from Susan, maybe because she’d been so stoic up to this point. He was the only one in the room with her. He grabbed her hand. “Squeeze hard and count backward from twenty-five.” “What?” “Do it.” She scrunched her eyes shut and squeezed his hand. “Twenty-five, twenty-four…” Suddenly she relaxed, loosening her grip. “Bad one, huh?” He smoothed a loose strand of hair from her pale face, realizing too late how much like a caress his gesture was. “Mmm.” She nodded. Arnette, a plump Polynesian woman with a reassuring smile, came back into the room. “How’re you doing, sweetheart?” Susan was still trying to catch her breath. “Feels like it’s not a baby inside me, it’s a buzz saw with a dull blade.” “We can get you some medicine, you know,” Arnette said. “No, I want to do it natural.” “Then I’m just going to check your dilation.” That was Rand’s cue to leave. He grabbed the clipboard with the completed forms, then wandered downstairs, thinking he might locate some coffee. Instead he found himself in the business office, talking with the same clerk. He handed her the clipboard. She smiled her thanks, but the smile died on her lips as she glanced at the form. “No insurance?” “Um, no.” “She should be at the county hospital, not here,” the woman said frostily. “We don’t accept indigents.” “She’s not—” Hell, he didn’t feel like arguing. To his utter amazement, he whipped out his credit card. “Put Ms. Kilgore’s charges on here.” In for a penny, in for a pound. THE NEXT FEW HOURS went by in a haze of anticipation, pain and cold fear for Susan. Arnette was there, reassuring Susan in her lilting accent that everything was progressing nicely. Clark and Alicia took turns telling her jokes. But nothing comforted her—nothing except Rand’s presence. She wasn’t sure why she felt safer with him there. Maybe because he was a doctor, although it wasn’t like she was suffering from prickly heat. She just knew that when she felt most afraid, sure something was wrong, positive the labor would go on for eternity, she would catch him from the corner of her eye and instantly feel calmer. He even did all those things she’d fantasized about. He held her hand. He blotted the perspiration from her forehead. He fed her ice chips. During those increasingly long and frequent contractions, she felt his attention on her in a visceral way, almost like he was willing her pain away. In her less sane moments, she fantasized he was her husband, the father of her child, and that when the baby was born they would be a family. She knew it was a juvenile rescue fantasy, but she allowed herself to savor it. Anything to get through her labor, which really sucked, in her opinion. At one minute to midnight, Penelope Kilgore made her appearance. Susan hadn’t thought much about names, but when Rand declared the newborn was bright and shiny as a new penny, the name sort of stuck. Penelope—Penny for short. She was tiny—barely over five pounds—but she was perfect in every way, or so Susan thought when they put the baby into her arms. She was a miracle. How could Gary not fall in love with this precious scrap of life they had created, even if it was accidental? Then a dose of reality hit her. This was real. She was a mother, now, and she had this child to feed, nurture and protect. She looked up at Rand and forcefully dislodged the fantasy that had gotten her through labor. No beating around the bush, now. “I have to find Gary.” Chapter Four Rand remembered the first time he’d seen a woman hold her newborn baby. It was when his own mother had Alicia. He’d been only fourteen at the time, still reeling from his stepfather’s desertion and his sudden elevation to “man of the house.” His mother, like Susan, had been without insurance, and she’d had her baby at the Coastal County Hospital, classified as an indigent. Rand had sat in a grubby waiting room, taking care of the seven-year-old twins, feeling scared and lonely and thinking that having a baby was the worst thing that could happen to a woman. But after it was over, Rand had been invited for a brief visit to his mother’s room and a peek at his new sister. He had never seen his mother smile like that. Since that time, he’d seen all three of his sisters within minutes of delivering their children, and they all had that glowing, ethereal look about them the first time they held their babies. It was the only thing Rand had ever seen that struck him with awe. Susan was no exception. They didn’t let her hold the baby for long. Because Penny was premature, they whisked her away to an isolette in the neonatal unit as a precaution. But during those few seconds when Susan held her child, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Rand wondered how it would feel to be a first-time father. Not that he’d ever know. Once upon a time he’d assumed a wife and family were somewhere in his distant future, but given his abysmal track record with women, he’d given up that fantasy. It wasn’t something he’d worried much about, especially lately. He figured he’d waited a long time to have his house all to himself, and he wouldn’t give up his solitude easily. But for at least half a second, when he’d gazed on Susan and Penny, he’d yearned—yearned—to be part of a family, to be a father. He’d come down to earth in a hurry when Susan had talked about finding Gary. It was ridiculous to think, for even a minute, that he had any proprietary relationship with Susan or her baby. They belonged to someone else—even if he was a jerk, even if he’d disappeared. “So what do we do now?” Alicia asked. They were out in the hall, giving Susan some privacy while she cleaned up and dressed. Rand shrugged. “I guess we go home. And I find another carpenter to finish the bookshelves or that room will still be a wreck when your wedding rolls around.” Alicia was getting married in a few weeks at his house, and she wanted the whole house to be in perfect shape for the big event. “I’m not worried about that,” Alicia said surprising him. “What about Susan? She doesn’t have anyone.” “She has Arnette, who appears to be a good friend.” Alicia shook her head. “She just seems so alone.” “We can’t take up for every lonely person we meet. We got her safely to the hospital, I made sure her medical bills would be paid. At this point she might like some privacy.” Alicia didn’t look convinced, but she agreed they should at least let her rest. That was before Susan declared she wasn’t staying in the hospital. “The baby should stay here, of course,” Rand heard her telling the nurse who’d come to take her to her room. “But I’m not sick. I’ve just had a baby, which is a perfectly natural event, not an illness, and I can recuperate at home just fine.” “And how are you planning to breast-feed the baby when you’re fifty miles away?” Arnette argued. “Susan, you know I’m a big fan of home birth, but I’m also in favor of mothers and babies being together.” “But the doctor said Penny will be here several days,” Susan objected. “At least stay overnight,” Arnette said soothingly. “You had a difficult labor, you’re very weak, and it’s the middle of the night. You’re not ready for an hour in the car and climbing two flights of stairs to your apartment.” Rand knew he should stay out of it. But he figured if Susan understood she didn’t have to pay her hospital bill, she would be more reasonable. He went back into the room. “Susan, if you’re worried about the cost, don’t. It’s taken care of.” She sat on the edge of the bed wearing a hospital-issue gown and robe, looking very pale. She just stared at him, her blue eyes seeming even larger than normal. “I don’t mind taking care of it,” he continued when she didn’t immediately seem grateful. “I can afford it.” “That’s not the point!” she sputtered indignantly. She cast her gaze around the room, looking for someone to agree with her. Alicia, Arnette, and the nurse scurried for the door like rats abandoning a sinking ship. “It’s not your responsibility,” Susan continued. “You hardly know me!” “I just spent fourteen hours with you, helping you bring a new life into the world,” he said quietly. “How can you say I don’t know you?” “I don’t want to have a debt to you the rest of my life,” she retorted. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done. But I have to draw the line at your paying my bill. I’m sure the hospital will work out payments.” “The hospital wouldn’t have admitted you if I hadn’t given them my credit card,” he said gently. “And you don’t have to pay me back.” She slumped back onto the bed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay here one night. But I will pay you back.” “If it will make you feel better.” “Yes, it will. My daughter is not coming into this world as someone’s burden.” “She isn’t a burden, and neither are you.” He reached for her hand, then thought better of it and stopped himself. “Once upon a time I needed help, and someone gave it to me. Now I’m passing it along to someone else. And someday, you’ll do the same. Or maybe you already have.” With that he turned and left the room. ONCE UPON A TIME I needed help… That sentence ricocheted around Susan’s head in her sleep, and all the next day, which she spent mostly gazing through the neonatal nursery window at tiny, helpless Penny. When had Rand needed help? He seemed so strong, so capable, an unstoppable force. It was hard to imagine him needing anything, depending on outside sources for support of any kind. Not money, obviously. He lived in that wonderful old house, practically a mansion. What was his story? she wondered. And who had helped him? Penny wiggled, and Susan stared, fascinated. Had any so entrancing creature ever been born? Of course she was red and wrinkled, and her head was still a bit squashed looking, something that had alarmed Susan the first time she’d seen Penny, until Arnette had reassured her it was normal and would fix itself before long. She was still the most beautiful child ever conceived. But beautiful or not, the child would need food and clothes and a roof over her head. Susan knew she’d not planned as well as she could have for the birth. She had bought a crib and some newborn clothes and diapers, but she hadn’t set anything up, as she’d been planning to move it all to her new apartment right after she finished Rand’s bookshelves—before Penny made an appearance. She had only a few days to get everything ready. Which meant she had to get started now. Whether anyone agreed with her or not, she was going home today. LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Susan lay on her couch, feeling overwhelmed and miserable, and regretting her decision to leave the hospital. Arnette had picked her up from the hospital and brought her home, but the short trip had completely exhausted her. Plus, she missed Penny. She’d already called the hospital twice to check on her. Luckily Susan had plenty of milk, so she’d left behind enough supply for quadruplets. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/kara-lennox/baby-by-the-book/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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