Prescription: Baby

Of course there was a small hitch now.

Which meant she’d somehow have to look straight into the dark irresistible eyes that had drunk in her naked body and forget the moment she’d conceived. She felt herself flush as she recalled the coarse hair of Ford’s legs and chest, how she’d soared when his mouth locked over her breasts and how she’d whimpered when his fingers curled possessively between her thighs. Katie exhaled a shudder.

She’d been a fool to think making love with Ford would get him out of her system, or that she could deny her feelings and chalk the night up to an excess of the fancy wine from his friend’s vineyard. If she was honest about it, she’d only had one sip, anyway.

Even if Ford expressed interest now—which he wouldn’t—she couldn’t sleep with him again, not ever. He was high-society Austin, and she was a farm girl. He’d said he wanted sex, not a relationship, and Katie had too much self-respect to let herself be accused of trying to trap a rich man with a pregnancy.

“Can you get over here?” Sue was saying. “I’ll keep looking for Dr. Nelson. But we’ve got a week-old girl in trouble. We thought we could wait until tomorrow to correct a blockage in her esophagus—”

“On my way.” Katie switched off the phone, shoved her feet into cowboy boots and grabbed her keys. She flicked off the TV, then ran for the car, realizing when the sharp January night air chilled her that she’d forgotten a coat. Not that she’d go back. A baby was in trouble.

Later, she’d think about the new life inside her and whether she should have contacted Ford before now. She was a nurse and prided herself on practicality; nevertheless, for two months she’d convinced herself her missed periods were due to the temporary move to Houston. Just female pheromones adjusting to her new coworkers, she’d kept thinking…until she’d administered the pregnancy test that proved she was pregnant and in plain, old-fashioned denial. She simply didn’t understand how it happened. They’d used condoms. “Plural,” she whispered with a sigh.

At first, the knowledge of her pregnancy burned inside her, but she’d only broken down once, confiding in her friend Hope Logan without identifying the father. Hope would be flabbergasted if she knew. But Katie wanted this baby desperately, though she had no illusions of receiving help from Ford. He was thirty-six and a confirmed bachelor by his own admission. Not even the polished social butterflies who flocked around him had caught his interest, so Katie figured she didn’t have a prayer.

“How am I going to tell him?” she muttered, stomping her foot and inadvertently making the car lunge forward. “Well, whatever he says, I’ll take him on.”

Her papa, too. She couldn’t tell him before Ford, but she was worried about how he’d react. Jack Topper was sternly religious, yes, but he was a contractor and old-fashioned Texas farmer, too, which meant he’d either head for the prayer rail at New Flock Baptist or grab the first handy rifle, point it at Ford and try to force him to marry her. Telling Jack it was the twenty-first century and that people no longer solved things with double-barreled blue steel wouldn’t deter him one bit, either.

“Concentrate, Katie,” she whispered as she sped toward Maitland Maternity. “And thank fate for small favors.” At least she’d probably be working with Cecil Nelson tonight, which meant she’d been granted another reprieve, however brief, before she told Ford Carrington she was pregnant with their baby.

SHE’S PREGNANT.

It was an instinctive, gut reaction, entirely unfounded but born of years spent working around pregnant women. That, and remembering the broken condom he hadn’t told Katie about. Only years of medical experience allowed Ford to separate the personal and professional and throw every ounce of his energy into fixing up a newborn. “Pressure?”

“Stable,” Katie said.

“Oxygen? Saline? Drips?”

She read off strings of numbers.

The professional tone left Ford feeling faintly murderous, even though he knew she, too, needed to dissociate from her emotions in order to get this job done; without that skill, people could never accomplish tasks that, anywhere outside an OR, would be considered barbaric. What was barbaric was Blane’s New Year’s party, Ford thought. Beach theme. Drinks with umbrellas. Mascot in diapers. He’d felt as if he was still a frat boy, back in college, and he couldn’t have been more relieved when the hospital called, saying they were still looking for Cecil.

Ford glanced at Katie again. Surely, his initial impression that she was pregnant was unfounded, but in the heartbeat before she’d pulled on her mask, he’d noted the deepening skin color and rounding of her face. Lord, was wishful thinking making him imagine she’d come back from Houston, her belly filling with their child? Always emotionally unattached, his only model the family in which he’d grown up, he’d never considered having a baby. But with a woman like Katie, could things be different?

Her eyes were still evading his, settling everywhere else in the crowded room full of milling nurses and technicians, making his mind run wild. Didn’t seeing him for the first time in three months affect her at all? He’d expected at least a glimmer of awareness, a rekindled spark. Was she embarrassed, since they’d been in his bed the last time they’d spoken?

“Scalpel.”

Their fingertips met. Even through gloves, he felt her quickening pulse, the sudden, sensual tremor of her skin. Fearing she might not feel it, too, he silently cursed her for making him want her so much. He forced himself to look away and continue working, but it was hard to concentrate. He kept seeing the wrecked living room and the faint lip-gloss smudge on a wineglass, both of which had told him the night with her hadn’t been his imagination. Why had she left him nothing? Not even a lipsticked message on a mirror. Or a scribbled note in a sport coat pocket for him to find weeks later.

He focused, needing to connect two blocked ends of a malformed esophagus. Simple but delicate, the operation served as a reminder of how much people took for granted. Things like tasting and swallowing nourishment, or pulling life’s sweetest scents all the way down into your lungs. That one night, Katie had been exactly like this, simple but delicate. And by damn, he was getting her back into his bed, one way or the other.

Only when he finished the last stitch did he look at her again. “When you’re done, can I speak with you outside?”

Her green eyes looked worried. “In the hallway?”

He figured whatever they had to say to each other didn’t belong to the gossip mill of Maitland Maternity. “No. Outside. The parking lot.”

FORD LEANED against the driver’s door of Katie’s car just in case she decided to hop in, speed off and evade him, the way she used to after work. Damn it, was he simply acting like a possessive, rejected fool? The idea soured his mood. As he stared toward the OR doors, waiting for her, he realized he didn’t take kindly to being thrown off stride. That was the good thing about women like Blane. He knew how to handle them. He glanced around. Katie had parked under a streetlight, but otherwise, the lot was dark and empty, and the night was cold, even for December in Austin.

“January,” he corrected, since the clock had ticked over into the new year while he and Katie were working. The operation had gone well, so where was she? Changing into party clothes, as he had? Had she been celebrating the new year with a lover? The father of the baby? Maybe it wasn’t his….

“She’s not pregnant,” he muttered in angry exasperation, wishing his mind would let go of the ludicrous thought.

Unfair as it was, he felt relieved to see her come outside wearing hospital greens and carrying folded jeans, which probably meant she hadn’t been anywhere. Not wanting to appear anxious, he kept leaning against the car, watching her, listening to the hard, solid connection of her boot heels on the pavement until she stopped in front of him. Somehow, he expected three months to have changed her, but she was the same familiar Katie. His eyes drifted hungrily over red coils of hair that had grown a fraction, and he recalled trailing fingers down the vibrant strands to smooth, now winter-pale cheeks, and how he’d played connect-the-dots with the freckles on her shoulders.

Anxiously, she cleared her throat. “Uh…hi, Dr. Carrington.”

She probably hadn’t planned that opening line, any more than he planned the traitorous tightening of his body when the soft Texas slur of her words churned his blood into a wild current. Hi, Dr. Carrington. It seemed a damn funny thing to say, since the last words she’d said to him were, Please, Ford, can’t we sleep like this? She’d meant with their naked bodies still hot, damp and joined. He’d smiled, informing her that sleep wasn’t in her future. And it hadn’t been.

“Told you I’d be waiting, Katie.” Before she could answer, he added, “And I really think you should call me Ford.”

“I guess I should,” she returned, swallowing hard. “Yes…I really guess so.” Her bright green eyes skated to where he was leaning against the car, and she peered at him through a fringe of red eyelashes. “I said I’d meet you. I wasn’t going anywhere, you know.”

Maybe not, but she sounded as if she wished she were, something that further darkened Ford’s disposition. Hadn’t she had the slightest interest in seeing him again? “Did I say you were leaving? Anyway, where’s your coat?”

She dropped her stacked clothes on the hood. “Sue said it was an emergency, so I just ran out the door.” Her eyes flicked over his tux and gray wool overcoat. “But I take it you were ringing in the New Year somewhere special?” Leaving him to wonder if she was jealous, she quickly added, “Sue assured me she was looking for Dr. Nelson.”

Assured? Ford guessed that meant Katie no longer wanted to work with him. “Well, Sue got me.” And Katie was biding time, alluding to the party at Blane’s, where, Ford didn’t exactly feel inclined to tell her, he’d been bored out of his mind. Shrugging from the topcoat, he said, “Here.”

Katie tossed her head, and nothing more than the mild reminder of her fiery independence threatened to set him off. Watching her crisp curls glint under the lamplight seemed such a travesty, too, when he wanted to feel them wrapping around his fingertips like springs of raw red silk.

“Thanks, but I don’t need a coat.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Really.” She shivered. “I’m fine.”

“Right.” The ungiving cotton of the short-sleeved greens tightly hugged her breasts, making plainly visible what the chill air was doing to her. He glanced away, but not before getting a good look at how she was affected. He waved the coat at her. “Katie. C’mon. Take it.” If she didn’t and he took another good look at her, he might do something he’d regret.

“I said I don’t need it.”

The words were out before he could stop them. “No,” he drawled coolly. “I guess proud Katie Topper doesn’t need a thing.” He hardly knew where the words came from, but she sure hadn’t given their night together any thought.

She looked startled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

But when she snagged the coat from the crook of his finger, swirled it around her shoulders and hugged it to her belly, Ford had another gut feeling his deepest suspicions weren’t unfounded. He glanced from the hem, which brushed her ankles, to the shoulder seams halfway down her arms. Even though the ill fit made her look petite and feminine as hell, Ford swore to himself that he wouldn’t react. Then he went for broke. “I know this sounds crazy, Katie, but are you pregnant or something?”

She gasped, then stomped her foot on the pavement, fisting her hands. “I knew you’d guessed, Ford! Why didn’t you just say so? Yes. Yes, it is true, Ford. I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant!”

The sudden outburst, so like Katie, ended as abruptly as it began, leaving noticeable silence in its wake. The hospital was hushed, and the winter night too cold for the insects whose wings usually hummed under the street lamps. When Ford drew air into his lungs again, the inhalation seemed to whisper as if telling a secret. He started to suggest they get in her car so they could run the heater while they talked, but he couldn’t risk being in such a small, enclosed space with her. In close proximity, he’d either throttle her or do what he shouldn’t allow himself to do before this was settled—make love to her.

A baby. He’d handled so many, but was the woman in front of him really carrying his? He could so easily imagine how Katie would look, full with his flesh, his blood. The thought startled him. He didn’t know exactly when, couldn’t pinpoint the moment, but he’d given up thinking about becoming a father. He was thirty-six and single, too damn old. He knew he couldn’t settle down with any of the women he’d known. He didn’t much like them. But now…

She’d paled, her translucent skin turning the color of paper. “Uh…how did you guess?”

Images were still filling his mind, of watching her belly becoming rounder, of holding the baby in his hands. “I’m surrounded by pregnant women sixty hours a week, Katie, just as you are.” And yet it was more than that, as if he were simply in tune with Katie.

She nodded, suddenly looking small and strangely miserable, nearly swallowed up by his coat, and yet as she spoke, she thrust her chin upward in an imperious way he found truly annoying under the circumstances. “I…I’m sorry. I should have called.”

No kidding. “If you’re trying to piss me off by saying that, Katie,” he warned, “you’re doing a fine job. You’re sure it’s mine?”

As the remaining color drained from her face, making the freckles on her nose more visible, he realized he didn’t feel as guilty as he should have about wounding her pride, not when she hadn’t even bothered to call him. Her voice was a near whisper. “Of course it is, Ford.”

“No man in Houston?”

She looked totally taken aback. “No.”

“No man here?”

Her eyes narrowed, glittering. “No!”

He forced himself not to acknowledge his relief. “But I didn’t rate a phone call?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Only because you were called in for an emergency.” He couldn’t help but point it out, barely able to believe her silence or the fact that he was going to be a father. “For all I know, you were considering taking that job in Houston. Cecil said they offered you one. Maybe you’re still planning to go back?”

“No. I’m staying.” She stared at him a second. “At least I think so.”

As if he’d force her to leave. “Were you going to tell me?”

Her lips parted with shock. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Yes.”

A stranger seemed to get hold of him, one with less pride than Ford usually possessed. Or more anger. “But you didn’t tell me, did you, Katie?”

“You’re not making this easy, Ford.”

“I don’t intend to.”

“I was nervous,” she explained, and as she stepped defensively back, he reached out, wrapped a hand around her upper arm and drew her toward him. Too late, he realized he’d brought her just inches away. For an instant, Ford almost forgot the conversation. It took everything he had not to kiss her, but he could never allow himself the pleasure, not when she hadn’t even called him. She wanted him to kiss her, though. That was the hell of it. Her mouth puckered. Her lips parted. And as pleased as he was to see desire spark in those come-hither green eyes, it threatened to gentle his emotions, so he loosened his hold.

She wrenched away, rubbing her upper arm as if he’d done real damage, which he hadn’t. “Never grab me like that.”

“I’ll never touch you again. I promise.”

He immediately wished he hadn’t spoken. Not that it mattered. Her eyes said she knew it was a lie. “I was going to call you from Houston,” she told him. “But this seemed like news I should deliver face to face. And the weekends I did drop by the hospital, you were off.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess you made sure of that. But you could have driven to my place.” He glanced away, fighting emotions he couldn’t even begin to untangle. They’d been together only one night, he’d desperately wanted her back in his bed for months, but now they’d be tied together for life. Life was a long time. Even with a woman whose body he craved as much as Katie’s. “When did you find out?”

“I guessed weeks ago, but I just kept thinking….”

He thrust a hand angrily through his thick dark hair, rumpling it. “Thinking you weren’t pregnant?” Damn it, didn’t she mean hoping she wasn’t?

When she nodded, he tried not to react, but he was remembering their first kiss in his kitchen, the party plates and streamers still in the next room. After all the time they’d worked together, how could he have so completely misjudged her? Hadn’t she wanted this baby? Even for an instant?

Her voice was stern. “I’m keeping it, Ford.”

Relief flooded him, but the way she’d said it… “You’d consider something else?” He knew she’d never guess at the anger rushing through his veins, but he couldn’t stop the fingers that tightened over hers. Then he suddenly lost it. A hand was in her hair, skimming the waves, tightening on her scalp and defying her by pulling her to him again. His voice was raspy. “Of course you’re keeping this baby, Katie.”

Her eyes, a fraction away, blinked rapidly, almost as if she was fighting tears. “I am?” The voice was faint, curious. “I thought you might have a problem with this…uh, Ford.”

“Hell, yes, I have a problem with this. I’m in shock. This is totally out of the blue. But I save lives, Katie. I don’t take them. Who do you think I am, anyway?”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” she returned, backing nervously away, cuddling his coat more tightly around her. “We’ve worked together a long time, Ford, but we don’t even know each other, not really.”

Well enough to make a baby. “Maybe not. But it looks like we’re going to.” His eyes lowered to her lips, and he realized that three months had done nothing to erase the memory of their taste. Soft, plump and lightly glossed, he knew them well. He’d suckled and bitten and nipped, and they’d held fast, kissing him back.

The huskiness of her low voice brought him to his senses. “You don’t have to be involved, Ford.”

Usually he was expert at pushing people away. Yes, Ford Carrington had turned that into a fine art. “Keep dreaming, Katie,” he found himself saying, “I’m going to be involved. Oh, I understand. Before you left, you said you didn’t want me in your life—”

“Whoa!” she burst out. “You said you didn’t want a relationship. It was mutual.”

“We agree on that, anyway—” His barely perceptible drawl grew thicker and more pronounced. “It was very definitely mutual, Katie.” As his eyes traced her lips, there was no denying he wanted her sexually. But he needed to think about this. A baby? He’d avoided this situation for years. Could he give a child what it needed?

“Ford—” She was trying to stay calm. “I don’t think you understand. We come from completely different backgrounds. My papa’s really religious, and now I’ve got to tell him I’m having a baby when I’m not even married. He’s not the kind of man who’ll be able to accept that I…”

“Slept around?”

“It’s not like I do it all the time! This wasn’t supposed to happen! We used protection!”

“The condom broke.”

She stared at him a long moment, her breath the only thing that moved, clouding on the night air. Nervously, she licked her lips, and he could see her throat working as she swallowed, the wildly beating pulse at her neck giving away her emotions. Finally, she whispered, “You didn’t tell me?”

He blew out a sigh. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me?” she echoed.

She knew the odds. “The chance of this happening is next to nil.” She hugged the coat even more tightly around her and shifted her weight as if she was getting colder. “What are we going to do, Ford?”

Hell if he knew. He shook his head. He’d fantasized about her coming back from Houston, then to his house with a bottle of burgundy and an invitation to bed. Now the vision included having a newborn curled against his chest. He glanced away, the globe of a streetlight capturing his attention, then some tree branches swaying in the wind. Frowning, he carefully considered all the options, then simply said what he’d sworn he never would. “Marry me.”

Katie was stunned into silence, then from between gritted teeth, she suddenly growled, “You can kiss my round Irish behind, Ford Carrington!”

His jaw slackened. He stared at her. Hadn’t he just offered the best possible solution? Shouldn’t a woman in her shoes want a husband right now? He’d never imagined proposing marriage, much less getting rebuffed. He was so taken aback, he couldn’t help but mutter, “I believe I did.”

Katie’s lips parted in shock. “Did what?”

“Kissed your round Irish behind,” he reminded her gruffly, edging closer. “Nearly three months ago. Gave you a smart little nip on the left cheek from what I recall, Carrot Top.”

As cold as the air was, Ford figured her response—a sharp, audible inhalation—had to hurt her lungs. “Uh, that was months ago, and we’ve got other things to talk about now, Ford.”

No kidding.

“I figure it might be best if I take another job,” she continued quickly, clasping her hands nervously, as if aware this wasn’t going very well. “At Texas General. Or in Houston. As Cecil told you, they offered me a job, but I wanted to come home….”

Maybe she simply hadn’t heard him. “I said, marry me, Katie.”

Angry tears filled her eyes, and even though he knew the barely concealed emotion was directed at him—or maybe because it was—he wanted to wrap her in his arms. The urge to kiss her was sudden, visceral. He wanted to lower his mouth to hers, not letting her breathe until all that anger turned to passion.

“Marry you?” she said in a furious tone. “Why? Because you’re afraid I won’t give you any rights to your baby otherwise? Is that it, Ford? You don’t trust me?”

“I admit,” he couldn’t help but say, “that after all the time we’ve worked together, Katie, I wouldn’t have suspected you could be pregnant with my child without telling me.”

“I’ve only known myself for a few weeks,” she said defensively. “And if you want to be involved, you can.”

He released a frustrated sigh. “If? You’re talking about my child here, Katie. Marry me.”

“Why?” she countered again. “Are you afraid of how people will react?” Suddenly, she nodded. “Oh, I see. Having a baby out of wedlock would be a strike against the Carrington family name.”

“Yes, it would,” he agreed. Not that he cared. “And it sounds as if it would be a strike against the Topper name, too.”

“We Toppers might not have much materially, but we have values, Ford. Marriage means something to me!”

He’d about had it. “And it doesn’t to me?”

“Your crowd marries for money and status,” she returned heatedly.

That much was true. “So?”

“So, I can’t talk about marriage in the way you do.”

“The way I do?”

“Yeah, in that calm, cool, collected voice, like it doesn’t mean anything more than sharing a house with a woman who keeps her own friends and bedroom.”

“I asked you to marry me, Katie,” he retorted. “I don’t recall saying anything about separate bedrooms.”

She gaped at him. “You’re not in love with me, Ford!”

He wasn’t even sure what love was. “No, I’m not.”

She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Look, this conversation is getting too personal.”

“Marriage is personal, Katie.” So was the energy current flowing between them as fast as a flooding river. Ford had no idea where it was taking them, only that the ride would be memorable.

“Marriage and childbirth are sacred to me, Ford,” she managed to say. “So is extended family. My mama died when I was kid, but I remember how it was with her, how close we were. My family’s still close. Family’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Color had flooded her cheeks. “I…” She paused, tightening her clasped hands. “Look, you’re not in love with me, so why are you doing this?”