Betrothed for the Baby. Kathie DeNosky
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not a problem. I’m actually looking forward to single motherhood.”
He looked as if he intended to say something, but Corey chose that moment to walk over and plop down in the chair beside her. “Have we sucked up enough to get more cookies or do we need to grovel a little more?”
Callie laughed at the likable young EMT. “No, I think you’ve redeemed yourself enough for another batch of chocolate-chip-oatmeal cookies.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go check out my office,” Hunter said suddenly, turning to walk down the hall.
Staring after her new boss, she wondered what had caused his abrupt change. When she’d met him at the airfield, he’d been congenial and outgoing. But within the span of a few minutes his mood had become pensive and troubled. Was he concerned that she would be unable to do her job?
She rose to her feet to follow him into the office and reassure him that she was perfectly capable of carrying out her duties, but the dispatch radio chose that moment to crackle to life.
“Looks like we have another run,” Mary Lou said, crossing the room to answer the call.
As Callie listened to the highway patrol officer relay the location of the one-car accident on Interstate 10 and the patrolman’s assessment of the driver’s injuries, she, George and Corey started for the door. “Tell him we’re on the way.”
“ETA is fifteen minutes,” George said.
“Keep the stew warm,” Corey added.
Out of the corner of her eye Callie saw Hunter reenter the room. His concerned expression reinforced her determination to set his mind at ease. But their talk would have to wait until later. Whether or not he believed she was capable of doing her job, she had an accident victim depending on her for emergency medical attention. And she wasn’t about to let her patient down.
Drenched in a cold sweat, Hunter awoke with a jerk and, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, sat up. Propping his elbows on his knees, he cradled his head in his hands as he tried to chase away the remnants of his nightmare.
He hadn’t dreamed about the accident in almost six months. But it was just as real now as it had been when he’d lived through it five years ago. He and his fiancée, Ellen Reichert, a second-year resident at the Mount Sinai Medical Center in Miami, had flown into Central America to deliver medical supplies and administer first aid to some of the remote villages hit the hardest by a category-four hurricane. Everything about the trip had been routine and uneventful until he’d circled the landing site for their last stop. That’s when all hell had broken loose and the course of his life had changed forever.
The twin-turbine helicopter he’d been piloting had suddenly lost oil pressure, then, before he could get it safely set down, it stalled out. He didn’t remember a lot of the details of what happened after that, only that he’d fought the controls with little success. The chopper had ended up tilting precariously in midair, then come down hard on its starboard side.
His first thought had been to make sure that Ellen was all right, then get them out of what was left of the helicopter. But the blood in his veins had turned to ice when he’d called her name and she’d failed to respond. He’d placed his fingers to the side of her neck and, detecting a faint pulse, scrambled to release their seat belts. Pushing the door on the port side of the chopper open, he’d carefully lifted her up through the opening, then carried her a safe distance from the wreckage.
When she’d regained consciousness, they’d both known she didn’t have long, and that’s when his devastating heartbreak had turned to total despair. She’d told him that she’d been waiting for the perfect time to tell him she’d recently learned she was pregnant. With her dying breath she’d told him how much she loved him and how sorry she was that she had to go, then, closing her eyes, she’d quietly slipped away.
The ensuing investigation into the crash had proven the accident had been caused by mechanical failure and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. But he’d quit flying that day and struggled for the past five years, feeling guilty because he’d walked away with nothing more than cuts and bruises, blaming himself for living when the woman he’d loved and their future child had died. He’d spent countless hours going over every detail of the accident, wondering if there was something he could have done differently, something that could have lessened her injuries or saved her life. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that would have changed the outcome.
He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to relegate the disturbing memories to the back of his mind. There was no doubt why the horrific dream had returned, and he couldn’t say he was overly surprised that it had. After discovering that Callie was pregnant, all he’d been able to think about was once again being responsible for the lives of a woman and her unborn child. Even though she wasn’t on his flight crew, as her employer it was ultimately his job to see to her safety.
Fortunately her shift had ended right after the Evac II team had returned from transporting the car accident victim to a hospital in El Paso. That meant that he had four days to come up with a convincing argument to get her to ground herself. And unless her crew was called out as backup for Evac III, she and her baby would be safe.
Now all Hunter had to do was figure out a way to keep them that way.
“Give me a second,” Callie called when it sounded as if whoever was at her front door would knock it off its hinges with their insistent pounding. Wiping the flour from her hands with her apron, she turned her CD player down and hurried from the kitchen to open the door. “What’s so important that—”
She stopped short at the sight of Hunter O’Banyon standing on her tiny front porch. Lord have mercy, but he was one of the best looking men she’d ever seen. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and worn blue jeans. The soft fabrics fit him like a second skin and emphasized the width of his broad shoulders and his narrow hips. When she glanced at his arms, the sight of his bulging biceps stretching the knit sleeves of his shirt sent a shiver of awareness straight up her spine.
Callie gave herself a mental shake. What on earth was wrong with her? And why in the name of heaven was she ogling the man as if he were a fudge-nut brownie with rich chocolate frosting?
“Are you all right?” His expression was one of deep concern.
“Of—” she swallowed hard “—course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Other than being embarrassed that her hair was piled on her head in total disarray, her shorts and T-shirt were the oldest things she had in her closet and she was coated with a fine dusting of flour, she was just peachy.
“I knocked for five minutes before you answered the door. I thought something might be wrong.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Never mind. Do you have a few minutes? We need to talk.”
What could he possibly think they needed to discuss? And why did he have to show up after she’d received a phone call from her mother?
At least once a week since telling her mother she was pregnant they’d gone through the same old routine of her mother wanting to know who the father of Callie’s baby was and why she was so insistent on keeping the man’s identity a secret. Frustrated beyond words with her mother’s persistence, by the time Callie had ended the phone call, she’d already measured the ingredients for several dozen sugar cookies and had pulled the box of oats from the cupboard for a double batch of chocolate-chip-oat-meal cookies.
Some women cleaned house when they were upset. Callie baked.
“Do you mind if I come in?” Hunter asked, returning her to the present.
“I’m sorry. Please come in.” She stepped back for him to enter her small cottage. “I was just baking some—oh no! My cookies!” Remembering the peanut butter cookies she’d put into the oven just before hearing him pound on the door, she made a beeline for the kitchen with him hot on her heels.
“Damn! When you make cookies, you don’t fool around, do you?” he