He helped Capri into the car. She eased in as though she was trying not to disturb fragile packaging. “Are you sure I shouldn’t take you straight to the hospital?”
“I’m fine.” Capri put a hand on her stomach and looked out the window, deliberately avoiding his gaze. He pulled out of the drive, resisting the urge to mash the pedal to the floor.
“You’re almost seven months pregnant,” Seagal said. She’d kicked him out—though she claimed he’d left—four months ago. “How did I not notice?”
“Even I didn’t know.” Capri sighed. “The first trimester was a dream. I didn’t realize I was pregnant until the end of the third month. The second trimester was more difficult, at least for me. I didn’t start showing for quite a while, I guess because I’m tall.” He felt her gaze on him. “I did have a little bit of stomach distress when you were still here, but I assumed it was extreme annoyance. So I ignored it.”
He grimaced. “Turned out it was a baby?”
She sighed. “You might as well know. There are two. Not even Kelly knew that.”
Seagal slammed the brakes at the stop sign out of pure reflex. “Two what?”
“Babies.”
Shock. Brain-hit-with-a-stun-gun shock. “We’re having twins?”
“That’s right. Drive. I don’t want to be late.”
Seagal couldn’t get any words past his throat. No wonder Capri seemed so big. She was big. “When were you going to tell me?”
“When you got over the initial shock of finding out you were going to be a father.”
He grunted, his heart racing. Two? There were no multiples in his family, or hers, as he recalled. “How did that happen?”
“You made love to me a lot,” Capri said, “and something hit bingo would be my guess.”
He had made love to her as often as possible. To be honest, making love to Capri was pretty much the best part of his day. He missed it like crazy.
He missed her like crazy.
“I should never have left,” he said. “You talked me into a separation, but I knew better at the time. I was right. We belong together.”
She shrugged. “Not because we’re going to be parents, Seagal. Children won’t fix what was wrong with our marriage.”
He parked in front of the doctor’s office. “Sit right there and do not move, Miss Independence. I’m coming around to shoehorn you out. I’m afraid if you move the wrong way, we’ll have babies sooner rather than later.”
Seagal hurried around to help her out of the car, amazed that his wife actually remained seated, patiently waiting for him. The soft blue dress fell around her tummy, catching his eye. It looked as if a watermelon had taken up residence inside his delicate wife. He eased her from the seat, trying to brace her. “I came back not a moment too soon, I can tell. I’m not leaving your side, Capri.”
“Obviously,” she said, sounding as though she was gritting her teeth a bit. “You’re assigned to me.”
“That’s right,” he said cheerfully, reminded that she couldn’t dislodge him even if she wanted to.
“Assigned isn’t the same thing as marriage,” Capri said, walking slowly into the doctor’s office. “You can stay with me until the cops figure out that I’m not in any danger. The whole drug thing is purely a coincidence. Then you can go back to wherever you came from.”
That didn’t sound good. Seagal wisely kept his mouth shut, hovering over his wife as she checked in, then helped her to a chair. He received several smiles from the other women in the waiting room and relaxed a bit. His wife was going to have to get over her idea that their marriage was a foregone failure.
He hadn’t come back to fail. When Beau, Capri’s beloved “baby” brother, had told him that Capri was having a baby, he’d pulled every department string possible to get himself assigned to the case—and ultimately, to her. Having worked his way up in the Texas Rangers, he was something of a hometown hero. It hadn’t been hard to get assigned back to BC.
It was terrifying to think he had only two weeks to win back his wife.
Capri would be mad as a little bee if she knew how determined he’d been to get back into her life. He’d wanted to keep her out of danger the second he heard about the case building in Bridesmaids Creek. But when he’d heard that she was pregnant, Seagal had known he had to move heaven and earth to be with her.
And he wasn’t leaving her ever again—not if he could convince his opinionated and cutely stubborn little wife otherwise.
* * *
“TOTAL BED REST,” Dr. Blankenship said. He gazed sternly at Capri.
The expression on the doctor’s face unnerved Seagal. Rarely had he seen the physician look so concerned.
“Bed rest?” Capri said. “I have a lot to do. I’m doing the flowers for a wedding. I’m also scheduled for some Christmas parties—”
“Total bed rest,” Dr. Blankenship cut in, shaking his head. “We talked about you needing to be in bed last week, Capri.”
“What?” Seagal looked at Capri in disbelief. “What were you thinking?”
“That I had Christmastown to set up, and that Dr. Blankenship is overprotective. I’ve known him since I was a child. He’s always been from the old school of medicine.” She tried to lever herself off the table, and both men jumped to assist her.
“No,” Dr. Blankenship said. “Capri, these babies are going to come early if you don’t stay off your feet. And the longer they stay in you, the better off they will be. Do you want them inside you growing and getting the nourishment they need naturally, or do you want to take precious time from them? They could end up with immature lungs or other complications,” he warned, his gray eyes filled with disapproval.
“All right. You’re right. Of course you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Tears jumped into Capri’s eyes, stunning Seagal. He’d seen Capri cry once, maybe, in all the years he’d known her. Doc Blankenship handed her a tissue, which she took gratefully, blowing her nose. “I’ve never been the kind of person to lie around.”
“I know.” The doctor looked at her with the first bit of a smile he’d worn in the past half hour. “But going ninety to nothing isn’t going to benefit you or the babies. You can press Kelly into service for help with the wedding arrangements, can’t you?” He regarded Seagal cautiously. “Are you back in town for good now?”
“Yes,” Seagal said, stressing the word with a glance at his wife.
Capri looked away, fidgeting with her tissue.
“Then you stay on her,” Doc Blankenship said. “It’s absolutely critical that Capri remain at home in bed. I should have forced her on this issue last week, but she assured me she was fine.”
“I am fine,” Capri said. “Or I was until last night.”
“Clearly I returned not a moment too soon.” Whether she liked it or not, he intended to be a pain-in-the-butt nurse, sticking to her like glue.
He knew Capri would resent his intrusion. Resist his efforts to take care of her. She’d barely accepted his role as bodyguard; bodyguard with a nursing specialty she’d like even less.
But she was still his wife. And he loved her, even if she thought she was over him.
Chapter Three
“Comfy?” Seagal asked Capri after he’d taken her