“I wasn’t planning on going any further than Pinehurst today,” she said, deliberately not confirming nor denying his assumption. Then, because she’d rather be asking questions than answering them, she said, “Is Luke short for Lukas?”
“It is.” He set down the first foot and picked up the second one.
“I’ve been researching baby names,” Julie told him. “Lukas means bringer of light.”
And she thought the name suited him, not just because he’d rescued her—bringing her hope if not necessarily light—but because it was strong and masculine.
“Have you narrowed down your choices?”
She nodded.
“Any hints?”
She shook her head, then gasped when the pain ripped through her again.
Luke released her foot and laid his hands on the curve of her belly. She tried to remember everything she’d read about Braxton Hicks and how to distinguish those false contractions from real labor, but in the moment, she was lucky she remembered to breathe through the pain.
After what seemed like forever, the tightness across her belly finally eased.
“Twinge?” Though his tone was deliberately light, she saw the concern in his eyes.
“Yeah.” She drew in a deep breath, released it slowly.
“I’m going to put the puppy in the laundry room, just so that he’s out of the way in case things start to happen.” Then he took the dog away, returning a few minutes later with an armful of blankets and towels and a plastic bin filled with medical supplies. He covered the leather chaise with a thick flannel sheet, then folded a blanket over the foot of it.
“Is there anyone you should call?” the doctor asked. “Anyone who’s going to worry about where you are?”
She shook her head. Her parents wouldn’t know that she’d been caught in this storm because they hadn’t known about her intention to detour through the Snowbelt on her way home.
“Husband? Boyfriend?” he prompted.
“No.” She could see the direction he was going with his questions, and she was almost grateful when her body spasmed with pain again. It was easier to focus on the contraction—whether false or real—than on the reasons why her relationship with her baby’s father had fallen apart.
She was gripping the armrests of the chair, but noticed that he was looking at his watch, counting the seconds. She panted softly and tried to think of something—anything—but the pain that ripped through her. The books she’d read talked about focal points, how to use a picture or some other item to evoke pleasant memories and a feeling of peace. Right now, all she had was Luke Garrett, but his warm gaze and steady tone—proof of his presence and reassurance that she wasn’t entirely alone—somehow made the pain bearable.
“Ninety seconds,” he said. “And I’d guess less than five minutes since the last one.”
“It doesn’t look like my baby’s going to wait for a hospital, does it?”
“I’d say not,” he agreed. “Did you take prenatal classes?”
“No.”
“Your doctor didn’t recommend it?”
“I’ve been traveling a lot over the past few months, so I didn’t have a chance.”
“Traveling where?”
“Pretty much everywhere.”
“Work or pleasure?”
“Both.”
She knew it sounded as if she was being evasive, and maybe she was, but it wasn’t in her nature to share personal information with someone she didn’t know and whom she probably wouldn’t ever see again when the roads were finally cleared and her car was pulled out of the ditch.
“I’m just making conversation,” he told her. “I thought it might take your mind off of the contractions.”
“I was counting on an epidural to do that,” she admitted.
His lips curved. “Well, it’s good that you have a sense of humor, because an epidural isn’t really an option right now.”
She liked his smile. It was warm and genuine, and it made her think that everything was going to be okay. “I knew it was too much to hope that you rented a spare bedroom to a local anesthesiologist.”
He took her hand, linked their fingers together and gave hers a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m scared,” she admitted.
“You’re doing great.”
“I don’t just mean about giving birth,” she told him. “I mean about being a parent.”
“Let’s concentrate on the giving birth part for now,” he suggested.
She sucked in another breath and gritted her teeth so that she didn’t embarrass herself by whimpering. Or screaming. The pain was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she knew it would continue to worsen before it got better.
“Breathe,” Luke said, and she realized that she wasn’t doing so. She released the air she was holding in her lungs in short, shallow pants. “That’s it.”
“Okay,” she said when the contraction had finally eased.
“Two minutes,” he announced, not very happily.
She could understand his concern. Her contractions—and she knew now that they were definitely contractions—were coming harder and faster. The idea of giving birth outside of a hospital was absolutely terrifying, but somehow, with Luke beside her, she felt confident that she would get through it. More importantly, she felt that her baby would get through it.
“Should I get undressed now?”
* * *
It wasn’t the first time he’d had a woman say those words to him, but it was the first time they’d come at Luke completely out of the blue.
And apparently Julie realized that her casual statement might be misinterpreted, because her cheeks flooded with color. “So that you can examine me,” she clarified.
Examine her. Right. She was an expectant mother and he was the doctor who was helping to deliver her baby. Of course she would expect him to examine her.
He mentally recalled the brief instructions he’d been given by the 911 operator. Thankfully the human birthing process wasn’t very different from that of other mammals, but Luke felt more than a little guilty that Julie was offering to strip down for him because she thought he was an MD.
It should have been simple enough to think like a doctor. But he couldn’t forget the quick punch of desire he’d felt when his eyes had first locked with hers. Before he’d realized that she was eight and a half months pregnant. Still, the fact that she was about to give birth didn’t make her any less attractive, although he would have hoped that this tangible evidence of her involvement with another man should have cooled his ardor.
But the combination of her beauty and spirit appealed to something in him. She’d found herself in a tough situation, but she was dealing with it. Sure, she was scared. Under the circumstances, who wouldn’t be? But she’d demonstrated a willingness to face that fear head-on, and he had to respect that courage and determination. And when he looked into those blue-gray eyes, he wanted to take up his sword to fight all of her battles for her. Not that she would appreciate his efforts—most women preferred to fight their own battles nowadays, but the desire to honor and protect was deeply ingrained in his DNA.
He wasn’t interested in anything beyond that, though. Sure, he liked women and enjoyed their