Daddy By Choice. Paula Detmer Riggs

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      “I didn’t lie to you when I told you I was sterile,” she said, her drawl softer than he remembered, though flavored now with a hint of tension. “According to Doc Morrow, the odds of my ever conceiving again were too small to even measure.”

      “Doc Morrow?”

      “My family doctor in Whiskey Bend. He delivered me when I was born and he delivered my…our baby.” She took a quick breath, the only sign of distress he could detect. “He was also the one who arranged for the adoption.”

      Pain was a vicious hand wringing him dry. “I’m sorry, Maddy. Deeply sorry.”

      A hint of some fierce emotion darkened her eyes. “Sorry enough to make sure I keep this baby?”

      He had a long list of questions, all of which filtered down to one. “Why me?” he asked quietly.

      “I have a fibroid that’s growing.” She hesitated, then added with the barest suggestion of a tremor in her voice, “Doc’s only treated one similar case, and that patient went into premature labor at six months.” She took a breath, her eyes suddenly sad. “She lost the baby.”

      Luke cursed silently, one pithy vehement expletive. It could be worse, but not much, he thought as he leaned his butt against the edge of the sink and shifted most of his weight to the leg that didn’t throb.

      For years he’d tortured himself with thoughts of how it would be if he saw Maddy again. It was a game he played with himself when he had trouble sleeping. Mostly his fantasies had been shaded toward raunchy—in a respectful sort of way, of course, since Maddy was a good girl. But this… His chest tightened, the way it used to right before a ride. Like a fist grinding against his sternum.

      “There are a lot of good baby docs in Texas,” he hedged. “Marston and Wong at Baylor, to name two.”

      She dismissed that with a brief frown. “I contacted them both. Each said you were the leading doctor in this area. As did the two other experts in high-risk pregnancy I consulted. I’ve also read the article you wrote about treatment of fibroids during pregnancy.”

      “Which one?”

      “The one in the Journal of the American Medical Association.”

      He nodded. “JAMA published three. Which one did you read?”

      That brought her up short, but she recovered quickly. “The one that explained why the kind of fibroid I have can’t be surgically removed without risking a miscarriage.” Her hand crept to her belly. “The more I read the more I realized how easy it would be to lose this child.”

      He crossed his arms over his chest and marveled at the woman she’d become. Bright, confident and way way out of his league. “I’m sure your research told you that myomas are unpredictable. They can cause some really mean complications one month and go dormant the next.” They were also decidedly dangerous when they took a notion to grow, a fact she obviously knew as well as he did.

      “Since this…this baby means everything to me, I’ll do whatever it takes to carry it to term.”

      “Even tolerate my presence in your life again?”

      “Obviously.” Her chin came up. “Since you’re considered the best, you were my first choice.”

      It was an answer that should have pleased him. Instead, it terrified him.

      When he’d been facing a tough ride, he’d survived by paring his mind to the basics. Things he knew how to do, like shoving his butt hard against the rigging and keeping his head tucked tight so his neck didn’t snap. Skills he’d practiced until they’d become second nature. It was a knack he’d come to value during life-and-death emergencies he’d learned to expect every time he walked into a birthing suite. It was a knack he fell back on now.

      “You realize you’ll have to move to Portland until you deliver?”

      “I’m prepared to do that, yes.”

      “What about your job? Your…family?”

      “My mother has agreed to look after my house and garden, and I’ve already arranged to take a leave of absence from my job for the next school year. The principal has four children of her own, and she’s been wonderfully understanding. A godsend, really.”

      He nodded. Cleared his throat. “It says on your info sheet that you’re divorced.”

      “Yes, for almost four months now.”

      “I assume Mr. Foster is the baby’s father?”

      “Yes, although I think that if he could, he would erase every scrap of his DNA from the baby’s cells.”

      “I take it he’s not gonna be interested in participating in the baby’s delivery?”

      “No, he’s relinquishing paternity.” She hesitated, then added, “Wiley Roy never wanted children, and since I thought I was sterile, he didn’t bother to get a vasectomy when we married. When I found out I was pregnant, he…he gave me an ultimatum—the baby or him. I couldn’t have both.” She glanced down at her hands. At the thin white line on her finger where he deduced her wedding band had been. Her mouth firmed as she folded her hands, then lifted her gaze to his. “I chose the baby. The next day he went to Juarez and divorced me.”

      “Man’s a fool.”

      She shrugged. “He’s a decent man and a wonderful teacher. He prides himself on being an example for his students, and in his own way, he was a good husband. He simply doesn’t want to be a daddy.”

      And neither did you, her expression said loud and clear. She was wrong. Once he’d gotten over the shock, he’d wanted that very much, but he doubted she would believe him. He straightened, sucking in a breath against the hot jolt of pain in his spine. “Is that your medical record?” he asked, indicating the bulging brown folder next to her on the table.

      “Yes, everything from the moment I was born until my last visit with Doc right before I left Texas.”

      “Which was when, exactly?”

      “Two days ago, I took the 6:00 a.m. flight from El Paso yesterday morning.”

      “May I?”

      “That is why I brought it,” she said as she handed it over. “The information dealing with this pregnancy is on the top. Doc included his phone number, and I’ve already signed a release form authorizing him to answer any questions you might have.”

      “Very efficient.”

      She dismissed the compliment with an impatient frown. “I can’t afford to waste time. I doubt you can, either, Doctor.”

      “True enough.”

      After fishing his reading glasses from the pocket of his white coat, he leaned back against the sink again, flipped open the folder and started to read.

      Madelyn kept her gaze trained on Luke’s face, scarcely daring to breathe. Beneath the tailored lines of the loose-fitting linen jacket, her heart was racing wildly, just СКАЧАТЬ