Belinda Barnes - His Special Delivery

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cal placed his hand on her stomach.

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

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