Prescription: Baby. Jule McBride

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, СКАЧАТЬ