Daddy By Choice. Paula Detmer Riggs
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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 as it had been that hot September day at the fairground when her gaze had met his across the dusty ring.
He’d changed of course. Grown older and…harder somehow. Inside and out, she decided after a good long look at the set of his jaw. Certainly he was more physically powerful, which surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. Luke had always been very strong. Growing up on horseback had given him incredible power in his legs, especially his thighs and buttocks. Twenty-two years had added breadth to his shoulders and packed hard muscle onto his chest and arms.
The glossy black hair that had always smelled of wind and baby shampoo was now liberally threaded with silver. For such thick hair it had been surprisingly silky. Though shorter now, it still fell into a rebellious off-center part where a cowlick defied taming.
The too-handsome face she’d never quite managed to purge from her mind for all her years of trying was now all hard lines and stark angles. The mouth that had thrilled her every time he’d slanted her a lopsided shy-at-the-edges grin was controlled now and bracketed by deeply gouged creases. His eyes, Paul Newman blue and once full of the devil, were somber now, even guarded, with the war-weary look of a man who’d left innocence behind long ago.
Unfortunately, however, the aura of raw masculinity that had both exhilarated and frightened her was as potent as ever. More so, she realized with a hard thud in the vicinity of her still-queasy stomach. Buried somewhere in this quiet-spoken professional with a calm manner and a way of looking directly into her eyes was the first man she’d ever loved.
As a high-school guidance counselor, she’d seen parts of herself in every girl who’d sat across from her, bewildered and scared and hurt because she’d trusted her heart to the wrong boy. Ancient history, she reminded herself as he turned back another page with a large heavily veined hand and continued reading. Being here wasn’t personal, nor was it really a choice.
Instinctively she pressed her hand against her stomach, a gesture she’d repeated many times since Doc had given her the astonishing news. The reminiscent smile that started to bloom died as those amazing blue eyes shifted to capture hers, sending what felt like a white-hot shiver all the way to her womb. Only years of rigid self-control kept her from flinching.
“According to this, you were already nine weeks along when you consulted Morrow.” Though soft-spoken, his voice had a gritty quality that had her tensing all the way to the bone.
“Yes, that’s right.” She kept her voice calm and even, the exact tone she used when soothing angry parents or troubled adolescents. “My periods have always been erratic, and they got worse after that C-section. Doc had told me not to worry, so I didn’t, but when I started having other symptoms, I decided to have a thorough checkup.”
“Other symptoms?”
“A thickening in my waistline and tenderness in my breasts.” To her dismay she actually blushed. He glanced down quickly, his gaze running over the page again before he closed the folder.
“Why did you wait so long to consult me?”
“Doc wasn’t concerned until he sent me for this latest ultrasound.”
Luke’s mouth compressed, giving his face an even tougher texture. Behind the thin dark rims of his glasses, his blue eyes had taken on flecks of steel. “You’re an intelligent woman, Madelyn. It’s obvious you want this child. My question is, why did you trust yourself to the same doctor who in your last pregnancy misdiagnosed preeclampsia as indigestion?”
“It’s easy to diagnose after the fact,” she replied, her voice sharper than was fitting for a well-bred Southern lady. “But in those days Doc was the only doctor in the county, and he’d been run ragged by an outbreak of chicken pox.” She took a breath, hating the painful memories her words had stirred. “I was lucky to have him, especially since my daddy had no money and no insurance. Without Doc’s compassion and generosity I would have had to drive 150 miles to the charity hospital in El Paso for my checkups. And God only knows what would have happened when I hemorrhaged.”
His jaw went white. “Maddy—”
“No, let’s get this all out, Luke.” She sat straighter and kept her gaze on his. “You’re the last person I want to need in my life. I couldn’t sleep for two nights before I made the decision to ask for your help. Just being in the same room with you brings up memories I’ve worked hard to erase. But I want this baby more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I’ll do whatever it takes to give him or her the best possible chance.”
He studied her thoughtfully, then frowned. “Maddy—Madelyn—I can’t treat you without touching you.”
“I realize that.” She drew a breath. That had been the worst of it, coming to terms with the enforced intimacy