His Special Delivery. Belinda BarnesЧитать онлайн книгу.
started.
Cal tore the bow tie from around his neck and shoved it in the pocket of the black tuxedo jacket before undoing the top button of his starched shirt. “Mine,” he said in a gruff voice.
Sara forced herself to concentrate on the conversation. “I hate to point this out to you, Dr. Tucker, but you seem to have lost your bride.”
The look he gave her rivaled the Texas sun in July. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” Sara said through clenched teeth as the pain worsened. “What happened?”
Cal’s long fingers tightened around the gearshift, and the perpetual frown he wore deepened. “Last-minute change of plans.”
The contraction peaked, and she settled her hands over her protruding stomach, staring out the window until it eased. She had thought Dr. Tucker might be different from the others, but once again, she’d been fooled by a handsome face. “Your idea?”
He approached a red light, looked both ways, then went across. A shadow of annoyance darkened his gray eyes as he glanced at her from the other side of the console. “No, not mine.”
As another pain came, accompanied by a wave of nausea, Sara looked at her watch. The contractions came much closer together. “Oh, no. Faster. Drive faster.”
Cal placed his hand on her stomach.
Sara stared at his long fingers splayed across her abdomen. The fear she’d felt diminished as she watched him watching her. He gave her a quick nod and stomped on the gas pedal. “Hold on.”
Sara sat stunned. Obviously, he knew what he was doing. At least she hoped so. The thought of relying on any man scared her, but at the moment she didn’t have a choice. And Cal had M.D. behind his name, not that it mattered.
Except, he was going to have to deliver her baby.
“Hang on. We’re almost there.” Cal cursed himself for getting involved. He should have walked away, but he’d had no choice. He could no more have left this woman stranded, alone and in trouble, than he could embrace his parents’ way of life. He intended to get this lady to the hospital, one way or another.
When he pushed on the gas pedal, the stupid car sputtered. He muttered a curse and downshifted into second gear.
The woman gasped. “Pull over. I can’t go any farther.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sara Jamison.” Her words trailed off in a groan.
“Relax. It’s not far now.” Cal rolled through a Stop sign.
She glared at him. “Shove a bowling ball up your nose, Doc, then tell me relaxing will keep it from hurting.” She bore down and yelled a curse aimed at all men, including him.
Frustrated, Cal choked the steering wheel. “Dammit, the side of the road is no place to have a baby.” He felt as out of breath as she sounded. “No, Sara, don’t bear down. Don’t push.”
Sara braced her legs on the floor and moaned. Her hand clamped around his wrist. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She threw her head back and screamed bloody murder.
Cal cursed and pulled over to the curb. He had planned to drop Sara at the hospital, then meet James for a beer.
But first, it looked like he had a baby to deliver.
He got out, raced around to Sara’s side of the car and opened the door. “Let’s get you in the back seat.”
She tried to stand. When her knees buckled, he lifted her in his arms. Her scent whirled around him like a lasso, and he wondered how a woman could smell so good in the middle of something like this.
Cal settled Sara on the back seat. She reclined and bent her knees, tucking the skirt of her frumpy brown dress around her legs.
“Better?” he asked, hovering over her. He saw the fear she tried to hide and found he wanted to reassure her. When he realized he already held her hand, he released it, irritated at his reluctance to let go.
Sara met his gaze, her eyes suddenly wide. “It’s coming.”
She bore down then and yelled as if her horse had thrown her into a cactus patch.
Cal stole a quick glance at his watch. About now, he and Tiffany should have been toasting their future with expensive champagne served in fancy glasses. He shoved the thought aside as he yanked off his tuxedo coat and tossed it over the front seat, then rolled up his sleeves.
Sara grimaced, her face turning red from her exertion. After a moment, she exhaled. “I’m really glad you’re here, Cal, and that you’re a doctor. But, honestly, the way I feel right now, I wouldn’t care if you were a plumber.”
He gave in to the smile that threatened. “That’s good, Sara, ’cause I’m a vet.”
The color drained from her face. “A vet?” Her voice wavered. “You mean a veteran, as in foreign wars?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Veterinarian, as in moo.”
She caught his hand, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This is no time to joke.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, great! Do you know what to do?”
“Sure. It’s a piece of cake.” Cal leaned over her and, telling himself he shouldn’t, brushed a sweat-drenched curl behind her ear. This is the last place I want to be. But what better way to end the day from hell, than on the side of the road in a bad neighborhood with a woman…about to give birth.
“Then you’ve done this before?” she asked.
“No, but there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll get through it, together. Trust me, okay?”
His confidence had to have eased her worries, because she nodded, even gave him a tentative smile. “Do I have a choice?”
Cal shook his head. “Sara, I need to check the baby’s position,” he said, his voice rough and uneven.
Color now rushed to her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and nodded. He knew she had to be scared out of her wits, yet she remained calm, something Cal couldn’t imagine his fiancée—ex-fiancée—doing. He had to admit, despite Sara’s stubbornness, he admired her spirit and roll-with-the-punches attitude.
He waited for a wino to pass, then lifted her skirt. It took another moment to undress her so he could see the baby’s head crowning. Sara groaned and pushed.
A passing car honked. The shouts of children playing nearby drifted to Cal on the cold afternoon breeze. The enormity of the situation settled about him. He’d delivered foals valued anywhere from fifty to one hundred thousand dollars, but this child wasn’t an animal. Sara’s baby had decided to be born here and now, whether or not Cal liked it.
“What do you see?” she asked.
Cal bit back the sudden laughter that bubbled up inside him at Sara’s question. He doubted she’d appreciate his warped sense of humor at the moment. “Hmm. I see his head.”
“Her head.”
In spite of everything, he once again found himself smiling at the determination in Sara’s voice. “I’ll have to see the other end to know that.”
“I think you’re about to see it.” She pushed and grunted, and freed the baby’s head.
“Come on,” Cal said, frowning as he noticed the bluish tint to the baby’s coloring. “You’re almost there.”
Sara screamed. Tiny shoulders passed through, then the baby girl slid into his waiting hands. The infant squirmed, and he tightened his hold. Cal checked her mouth and nose as best he could, anxious to make sure her air passages were clear.
Soon the baby’s cries mixed with