Daddy By Accident. Paula Riggs Detmer

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СКАЧАТЬ went cold inside and the floor seemed to shift. Fisting his hands at his sides, he drew in great gulps of air, fighting against the sharp claws of fury. Slowly the chill receded, bit by bit, until he could breathe normally again.

      Around him, the controlled urgency took form and shape. And sound.

      “Cubicle four, gentlemen,” the admitting clerk barked as the paramedics slowed. Boyd didn’t recognize the woman, but he knew the type—a drill sergeant with a clipboard and absolutely no sense of humor. More than once during his years as an intern and resident in this place, he’d tangled with this one’s clone. The best he’d managed during all that time was a draw.

      “Are you a relative, sir?” the clerk asked while strafing his naked chest with a disapproving gaze.

      “No, just a witness.” He saw the militant glint in her eyes and was about to brush past her when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. Turning toward the sound, he felt a jolt of relief. Prudence Randolph was the best nurse he’d encountered in the five years he’d spent practicing medicine. She was also his neighbor and his friend.

      “So that really is the reclusive Boyd MacAuley under that gorgeous tan?” Prudy was an irrepressible tease and a charming flirt, but only with men she considered safe. She’d been divorced for years and claimed to have sworn off marriage forever.

      “Sawdust is more like it,” he replied, suddenly conscious of his sweat-stained jeans and grimy skin No doubt he smelled like the mangy dog he resembled.

      Prudy flicked him a curious grin, even as she was focusing her intelligent brown eyes on the patient. “Is she a friend of yours?”

      “Never saw her before. Said her name’s Stacy Patterson. We weren’t able to find a purse or any identification.”

      “Auto accident?”

      He raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “Trans Am hit a tree on Astoria. She was in the passenger’s seat. From what I can tell she banged her head on impact.” He drew a hard breath. “She’s pregnant. Just over seven months. No attending OB.”

      Prudy’s eyes clouded. “Vitals?” she asked the uniformed paramedic on the other side of the stretcher.

      While the EMT recounted the numbers, Boyd searched the young woman’s face for signs of returning consciousness. The gash on her forehead was oozing blood into the bandage applied by the paramedics, and her skin was purpling around the wound.

      Small boned and too thin, she reminded him of a priceless porcelain doll his grandmother had kept on her dresser. Her skin had the same translucent quality as the fragile china, and her lashes were long and thick. Lost in the oblivion of sleep, she seemed very young and vulnerable—and terribly alone. It hurt to look at her, and yet he couldn’t make himself walk away.

      “Call Dr. Hoy,” Prudy told the clerk briskly. “And get a lab tech up here stat. We’ll need blood work done.” The clerk flicked Boyd a curious glance before she turned to leave. He could almost predict the questions she would ask Prudy later.

      “What about the driver?” Prudy asked as she held back the curtain to number four.

      Boyd hesitated, the image of death still vivid in his mind. “The poor guy went through the windshield. Looked like a broken neck.”

      Prudy sighed. “Her husband?”

      “Ex, I think she said.”

      “Is he the baby’s father?”

      Boyd raked back the still-damp hair that had flopped onto his forehead. “She was pretty woozy and a little sparse on the details, but yeah, that seems a good bet.”

      Prudy frowned. “Ex or not, it’s still going to be rough on her when she wakes up, especially if she loses the baby, too.”

      Yeah, it’s always hardest on the one who’s “lucky” enough to survive, Boyd thought as he watched Prudy and the two paramedics transfer Stacy to the narrow bed. There was a slash of yellow paint on one high cheekbone and yellow splatters on the bright pink basketball sneaker peeking out from the gray ambulance blanket tucked around her small form.

      “Oops, sorry.” Jenkins, the senior medic shot Boyd an apologetic glance, and Boyd realized that he was in the way. He’d forgotten for the moment that he was a carpenter now, a blue-collar guy with callused hands more suited to holding a hammer than a scalpel. Though his profession had changed, his knowledge of medicine hadn’t, however. He waited until the paramedics left, then cleared his throat. “Who’s the OB on call?”

      “Jarrod.” Prudy looked up from the blood pressure cuff she was affixing to the patient’s too-thin arm and smiled. “We’ll take good care of her, Boyd. The best. She’ll be fine.”

      “Yeah, sure she will.” A sudden lump pressed his throat and he had to swallow twice before he could make it dissolve. He’d heard that before. He’d even believed it. He knew better now. “Guess I’ll head on back then.”

      Taking another step backward toward the curtain had him nearly colliding with an entering tech who sidestepped gingerly. “Sorry,” Boyd muttered, and earned himself a pained look.

      “Sir, you’ll have to wait outside until after the doctor examines your wife,” the tech instructed impatiently.

      “She’s not...” He stopped, realizing that the tech wasn’t listening. Frowning, he turned to go, only to be halted by the sound of Mrs. Patterson’s soft voice.

      “No, wait. I don’t...want him to go.” Across the cubicle, Mrs. Patterson was now awake and watching him with bruised eyes. When he locked his gaze on hers, she tried to smile. “I haven’t thanked you.”

      He cleared his throat. “No need. Mostly I just kept you company until the bus showed up.”

      Stacy wet her lips and struggled to focus her mind on her rescuer’s words instead of the all-encompassing pain in her head. “Bus?”

      “Sorry, I mean the ambulance.” His mouth quirked. It wasn’t quite a smile but held a certain promise she found endearing.

      “I don’t...but of course, there would have to be...an ambulance. How silly of me...not to remember.”

      The effort to speak set her head to spinning, and she hauled in air in an effort to clear her brain. Concentrate on his eyes, she told herself as his face wavered in and out of focus. Gray eyes in a deeply tanned face. Quicksilver eyes, framed by thick, blunt lashes the color of bronze. There was something haunting about those eyes. Something sad. Memories he didn’t want, perhaps, or lingering shadows of a terrible suffering. For an instant, she thought she was looking into the eyes of her tormented husband.

      “Boyd?” she murmured, and heard his deep voice answering. The words were indistinct, yet she felt a sense of comfort.

      Another face swam into her field of vision. A face with feminine features and a kind smile. A face topped by a halo of shining copper. A nurse, she finally decided.

      “Is there anyone you want us to call for you, Mrs. Patterson ? Family? Friends?”

      Stacy concentrated for a moment. “Some...someone should call my ex-in-laws in Seattle. Leonard СКАЧАТЬ