The Tycoon's Marriage Bid. Allison Leigh
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to him.
But she knew Alex had a way of getting what he wanted.
“I know enough,” he said.
A statement that did not alleviate any of the nerves jostling inside her. “Meaning what?”
“You were far more agreeable when you worked for me.”
“You paid me to be agreeable.” Again, her voice was shaking.
“Right. Well, nobody knows more than I do just how capable you are, Nikki.” He scooped up a black coat she recognized from the seat of a rolling metal stool stuck in the corner. “You’ll undoubtedly improve efficiency around here by thirty percent before you’re released. The staff will be completely whipped into shape.” Now his tone wasn’t kind at all.
It was tight.
Angry.
And it stunned the life out of her.
What did he have to be angry about?
“Alex. Wait.” The words burst from her lips even as caution screamed inside her.
She wanted him to leave.
Didn’t she?
“Please,” she whispered. “Wait.”
No matter how desperate she was to regain some composure, she couldn’t abide the idea of having angered him. Regardless of his motives, he’d come here.
She’d never known him to take any time away from his business.
Not for anyone. So why had he done it for her?
Chapter Two
Before Alex could respond, a doctor came into the room and took in both of them with a glance. “Good. You’re finally awake. Since you’re both here, we need to go over Mom’s options after I examine her.”
Which told Nikki ever so much.
And she had no idea if Alex would have stayed because of her request, or not.
The gangly doctor—he briskly introduced himself as Dr. Carmichael—set the thick chart he was holding on the rolling table at the base of Nikki’s bed, and stepped up beside her, whipping out his stethoscope with one hand and nudging up his round eyeglasses with the other.
Before Nikki could utter a word, he’d plucked the string holding her hospital gown together at her neck, and nudged her forward a little. The stethoscope was cold against her back and she hurriedly grabbed the front of the gown before it fell completely off her shoulders.
She couldn’t look at Alex now.
Just as quickly, Dr. Carmichael nudged her back against the pillows again, murmuring periodic “mmmhmms” as he delved beneath the neck of the gown to listen to her heartbeat.
Her face was on fire.
She knew her pulse was racing, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the doctor, who’d already withdrawn his cold stethoscope and transferred his attention to feeling along her jaw and neck, for heaven only knew what.
His mmm-hmming kept on until he stepped back to the foot of the bed, flipped open the chart and made a few notations. The same nurse came into the room then and gently shooed Alex out long enough for the doctor to do a pelvic exam.
When he was finished, the doctor scooted back on his rolling stool, disposing of his sterile gloves. “Looking good. Spotting has stopped.”
The nurse finished deftly adjusting the bedding and retied the back of the deplorable gown, since Nikki was too busy staring at the doctor to deal with it herself. “I was spotting? How long have I been here?” She would remember if she’d been spotting!
“Four days now,” the nurse said calmly. “You were brought in on Sunday. It’s Thursday. Your Mr. Reed has stayed by your side since he arrived Tuesday. Half the nurses in the hospital are pea green with envy, I can tell you.”
Four days?
She’d been thinking maybe four hours.
Distress gnawed at her.
The doctor was still sitting, and the overhead light glinted off his glasses as he waved Alex in when the nurse opened the door once more. “As I was telling Nikki, the spotting has stopped. There’s been no evidence of any more contractions.”
“More?” Her voice rose at that.
Just what had been going on while she was unconscious?
The nurse patted her arm. “Try not to get excited, hon. Your blood pressure was through the roof when the ambulance brought you in. It’s only begun to stabilize in the last twelve hours.”
News that was not helping Nikki become any calmer. “The baby’s been moving,” she said nervously. Alex had told her she and the baby were fine. “So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing that bed rest won’t cure, I believe,” the doctor assured her. He adjusted his glasses, making them glint again. “Frankly, at this point, the baby is healthier than you are.”
“Then I can go home?”
“I’d prefer to keep you here in the hospital. I want you off your feet for the next three weeks.” He glanced at her chart again. “You’ll be in your third trimester then.”
Nikki’s stomach dived down to her toes. Her new job came equipped with medical insurance coverage—which she would desperately need by the time her delivery date arrived—but not until she’d actually been working there for sixty days. Working being the operative word.
If she was here in this Montana hospital for weeks, she couldn’t very well report for her first day at Belvedere Salvage & Wrecking on Monday, now could she?
“But that won’t do,” she said faintly.
“I’m afraid it’s going to have to do,” Dr. Carmichael said, unperturbed. He patted her foot through the blanket. “Don’t worry. The food here will grow on you.”
The knot in her throat had become a vise, and it seemed to be forcing every bit of liquid inside her up behind her eyes.
The doctor wasn’t entirely oblivious to her upset. “It won’t be so bad. After the first week, we’ll reevaluate. And Dad can stay with you as long as he wants, same as he’s been doing.”
Nikki eyed Alex. His long form wavered. The doctor figured he was telling her things that would make her feel better.
But Alex wasn’t the expectant father. How could he be when there had never been anything remotely personal between them?
But he wasn’t disputing the doctor’s assumption, either. “I can’t afford to stay three weeks in the hospital.” She pushed out the words, trying to pretend that he wasn’t standing there listening. “I have to get home. I have to work.”
The doctor looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “I can’t force you to stay, of course. But I promise you that you’ll be endangering your pregnancy if you do not have complete bed rest.”
Endangering.
The word rocketed around inside her like some bizarre pinball machine running amok, setting off small explosions wherever the ball hit.
“She could get the bed rest elsewhere, though.” Alex finally spoke up. “Correct?”
The doctor didn’t look particularly happy about it, but he nodded. “If she can promise me that she’ll remain in bed. And I mean lying in bed. Knees elevated. She can sit up for a few minutes at a time, but that’s it.”
“I’ll go to my mother’s,” Nikki said thickly. Her family would welcome her with open arms, without question. And she’d feel like she was failing them by not being able to stand on her own two feet the way she always had.
“Your