When they’d first met, those ideas had been alien to Ridge. His entire life had revolved around his work for the military, his brother’s death and then the consortium. She’d dragged him kicking and screaming into her world and he didn’t regret a single moment.
Their business philosophy matched up nicely as well. Ridge agreed that Gino would make a great addition to their portfolio. He’d sent the quarterback an invitation after reading an article suggesting he might be considering retirement. Gino took his fitness seriously, resembling more of a big wide receiver than a quarterback.
“I see what you mean. The ability to get emotion across on the page is there. Someone else has noticed, too, sweetheart, and his emotions are coming across loud and clear.”
“Who?” Buffy was flipping through the shots she’d taken on the phone but she aimed it in Sam's direction she saw what Ridge was talking about. “When did Jed get here? He told me he was going to be working.”
A smiling Gino continued to talk to Samantha, both of them laughing at something she’d said, then he gave her his two-hundred-watt smile, which had had female football fans swooning for almost a decade. It wasn’t a come-on, his niceguyness came through like a fresh breeze. Beyond them her phone had captured the expression of Officer Jed Stern, Delilah Burke’s partner, his jaw clenched so tight Buffy wondered why they didn’t hear his teeth cracking from across the room.
“He’s jealous. Oh my, isn’t this interesting?” She showed Ridge the picture. Jed was looking at Gino like he wanted to put him in an inescapable jail cell, or worse. “Oh, Ridge, Jed is still interested in Sam. Very interested.”
“I doubt our boy even realizes it. Didn’t he and Sam date for a few months back in the summer?” Ridge asked.
“Yes. . .” Buffy was intent on her picture taking. She could turn an iPhone into state of the art photographic equipment. “Sam said he was living in the dark ages… he told her a couple weeks ago that she belonged in bed.” Her lips pursed as she worked with the settings.
Ridge said, “I can imagine how she reacted to that. She’s a striking woman. If she didn’t have a busy new practice with a baby on the brink, she’d make a great cover girl.” Buffy looked up sharply. He said, “What?”
Buffy said, “I’m always amazed how much alike we think, and I agree. Oh, there’s Del and Luc.” She took a few pictures of their friends. “One of the Larues is always near Sam these days, if not Luc, then her nephew, Mack. She’s overdue by three weeks. Del said he’s been making excuses to be close to Sam for the last month.” She chuckled. “Sam told Del she was thinking about filing a restraining order against him until the baby was born.”
Luc walked up to Sam and Gino, and Buffy once again felt the excitement that hit her whenever she discovered new talent.
She put the phone down and looked at Ridge. “Jed told Del he thought Samantha should be in the hospital, that she was putting herself at risk, and the baby, though Del said he sounded like he was mostly concerned for Sam. She cautioned him against saying anything like that to her.”
“Why’d they break up?” Ridge asked.
Buffy frowned as she watched the two. “He said he couldn’t deal with her pregnancy, or more specifically, kids. Del thinks he’s just afraid. Sam said he was a bit of a Neanderthal, but I think she’d still be dating him if he hadn’t broken it off.”
“Well, don’t fret, darling. It will work out. I’d better go check on the pig and see where the band is.”
Chapter Six
Samantha spotted Jed over Gino’s shoulder and shook her head. The man was relentless. A better question was why? They’d broken up months ago. He was making a nuisance of himself. Just last week, he’d come by the office to drop off some of his “famous” meat pies. A not so clever lie. He’d delivered them in the original bag labeled Merci Beaucoup, Larue's popular New Orleans style restaurant on Main Street.
Three times in the last two weeks Jed had come by the clinic. The first time he'd pretended he was looking for his favorite LSU t-shirt. "Are you sure I didn't leave it here?" Of course he hadn't left it there. It wasn't like they'd been sharing a closet in the two months they'd been seeing each other or mingled their belongings like a real couple.
Jed had been careful about that from the first, afraid if he left too many items behind, she'd read something into it. But Sam was aware when she left the Navy that her "situation" would be a source of questions and difficult realities. Her relationship with Jed had just been one of them.
Still, if she was honest, she'd admit to a growing fondness for the virile but prickly cop. Maybe if she'd waited until after the baby was born to get involved with him but she'd been blindsided by their sudden irresistible attraction and he hadn't been put off at all by her obvious pregnancy. Quite the contrary.
Sam could have psychoanalyzed her own actions but up to that point, all she'd been able to do was bury her emotions and needs. As soon as their affair had begun, she'd started to feel hopeful, alive, and yes, desired for exactly what she was, a pregnant thirty-seven-year old woman.
But then, after two months he'd suddenly decided a baby was a problem. He didn't intend to have a family. He wasn't up for kids. Not that she'd asked him to be. If she was brave enough to go there, she'd admit to feelings. . . But she was used to stuffing them down, even Jed had noticed that. She just couldn't risk letting down the wall of protection she'd built around her heart and her past. It was better this way for everyone involved.
Then, he'd started dropping in to check on her with his pitiful excuses. Del had a question; Luc asked him to come by to see if she needed anything; then the shirt deal. He was obviously worried about her and despite her resolve, she'd been moved by his sweet gesture disguised as something else.
Just a few days ago, he'd dropped the excuses indicating his own level of concern when he'd come by to "allay her fears about being late." He said he'd been brushing up on the subject of pregnancy and delivery and wanted her to know that it was normal for first time mothers to be late. Thank you very much, duh. Then he'd whipped a gift bag out from behind his back and said it was "good to have distractions to help keep your mind off the delay." The delay, hmm.
The bag was filled with distractions—yarn and knitting needles complete with instructions for a man’s scarf and an adult coloring book called Mindful De-stressing—even the title sounded stressful.
Sam told him she didn’t plan to take up knitting any time soon and that if anything was st..rressing her, it was him. He obviously hadn’t gotten the message.
Samantha sighed, “Excuse me, Gino. The intervals between my trips to the bathroom are getting shorter and shorter.”
Gino laughed, his wide smile lighting up his tanned face. “I know that’s true. I have a lot of nieces and nephews.”
She’d been snacking on several of the desserts and appetizers hoping one of the combinations would be a miracle “inducement” for the baby to rocket out of her, preferably as a full-grown college student. All she’d gotten for her efforts was gas, a severe case of heartburn and a bladder that wouldn’t stop emptying. Pregnancy was no job for the faint of heart.
“Sam,” Jed’s voice reached her as she hit the porch steps.
“What?” She knew she sounded irritated.
“Are you having symptoms—back pain, fullness?”
“Fullness?” She just stared, wondering at his ability to continually surprise her. “Jed, will you please leave me alone.”
He looked away for a few seconds and she watched the muscles in his jaw clench. What was he holding back?
“Jed. Why don’t you go home? Or go get yourself a drink? You’ve probably been working all day and could use a little ‘distraction’.” She didn’t expect him to make the leap but he surprised her again. “Have you been doing any of those coloring exercises?”
“No!” Okay, that was a little loud. She saw a couple of people looking their way, took a deep breath and grit her teeth then said quietly, deliberately, “I’m
. Not. Stressed. Unless you count what You. Do. To. Me. What is it with you, Jed? You broke up with me because you were uncomfortable with my pregnancy and children. Right? I am giving you my express permission to go away, find a woman who doesn’t have any children, or want any. There should be a couple…somewhere in the state.” She turned away.
“I—didn’t mean to hurt you, Samantha—”
“You didn’t,” she lied quickly. “But the follow-up seems pointless. I’m fine, Jed. Women have babies all the time and as you so helpfully mentioned, first time mothers are often late. Now, go. Enjoy the party.”
“Hasn’t your doctor talked about induction by now?” He frowned.
“I’m done discussing this with you, Jed. I’m going to get a little exercise.” She turned.
“Maybe I should tag along—”
“Je-ed. Please, this kid is kicking the hell out of me. I don’t need to deal with you, too.”
He threw his hands up and backed away. “Okay, okay. But…” When she glared, he clamped his mouth shut and backed away.
Chapter Seven
Sam walked around the house to the front yard stepping off the distance, then took the sidewalk to the back door and through the house until she found the powder room Buffy had mentioned. It was tiny. With her size and baby bulk perhaps she should have opted for one of the en-suites in the bedroom.
After getting her clothes situated, she struggled to turn around in the half-bath. Maybe she should just wait right here until she had to go again. She could take a nap, something else that had eluded her except that one time when Jed had come by her office and found her sleeping.
Finally facing the commode she looked for the lever to flush. She straightened and looked around. There was no handle. She searched for a button to press or a pull string though it looked like a modern toilet. Nothing. She continued to search, feeling ever more pressure suddenly, so she sat on the commode lid and took a deep breath.
“Samantha?” came a voice on the other side of the powder room door.
She looked at the ceiling and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyelids. Great. “Yes, Jed…”
“Are you okay?”
“Jed, you’re becoming kind of a mother hen. I’m just using the john,” she said in her best Lieutenant Larue tone. There was a long silence while she continued to look for the lever and wondered if he’d left. Then she heard his foot scrape against the door. “Jed. Are you still out there?”
“Do you need me?” he asked quickly.
“No, and…” she tried to think of something that would make him go. “You’re kind of cramping my style.”
“Did you say you’re cramping?” He asked a little louder.
“Sshh, you’ll have every one—OO… Oh!” The pain hit so suddenly that she doubled over. Or she would have if she hadn’t had a fifty-pound baby in her lap. It hit again, and this time, she moaned.
“Samantha, open this door.” His voice was too loud. She knew what that was going to mean. The horde. Her mother and two of her older sisters were outside somewhere, waiting…
Sam grit her teeth, panting. “Go away, Jed.” She concentrated on small breaths.
“I’m not leaving until you open this door and I see that you’re okay.”
Breathing rapidly to quell the spasms, Sam said, “Can’t you leave me alone? Get Buffy or my Mom if you want to be helpful.”
She could almost hear him thinking on the other side of the wooden barrier. “If you need your mother, you need me. I’m trained in this. No one else here is. Unlock the door before I break in.”
“There’s no room to bust in, Stern. Me and this kid are taking up the entire bathroom.” She sighed and scooted to the edge of the toilet. “Hold on, hold on, don’t go causing a ruckus. I wouldn’t put it past the women in my family to rush over here and try to fit into this dime-sized bathroom.” She reached over and twisted the button on the knob. The door swung out.
A frowning and obviously concerned Jed rushed in and knelt in front of her, squeezing his wide shoulders in between her and the sink. His golden brown eyes bore into hers looking for clues, just like a detective. “Be honest with me, Samantha. Are you having contractions?”
“No! At least… I don’t… I don’t think so. I just couldn’t find the lever to flush the toilet.”
Jed frowned in disbelief, rocked back on his heels. “That’s all? You couldn’t flush?” His eyes widened and his nose quivered. “What have you been eating?”
She glared at him even as she caught the sparkle in his eyes. “Jalapeños, shrimp dip, banana pudding… and some other stuff.”
He chuckled making the same search she had while she sat there taking shallow breaths. If she took a deep breath she would take in his manly scent. He worked out a lot and had probably come straight from the gym. The smell was intoxicating, mesmerizing, arousing—damn these hormones.
She shook herself. He was still tinkering with something over her left shoulder. Then the sound and vibration of the toilet flushing gave her a small sense of relief. She looked up at him as he straightened. “Where was it?”
He scratched his head looking confused. “Uh, oh, against the wall. The toilet was installed backwards.”
“That’s crazy,” she said as her mother and Buffy appeared in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” asked Buffy.
“Samantha, are you in labor?” her mother demanded.
She rolled her eyes. “No, I needed to use the restroom and—ahh.” The cry was ripped from her throat.
Jed wasted no time asking for permission. He leaned down and helped her get to her feet, then scooped her into his arms. “Jed,” she protested, then softer, she asked, “Why are you doing this? You didn’t want me… or children.”
“So you decided to flirt with the quarterback,” he gritted.
“Flirt with—grrr. Why don’t you just call 911? It isn’t an emergency.” Her eyes went wide as a warm gush of liquid spread down Jed’s right arm and onto his trousers.
He gave a grim smile and arched a brow. “You don’t think so? Hush, now. I need all my concentration to carry you.” He angled her feet through the door. She knew he wasn’t going to drop her.
Then he said, “Damn, Samantha. You’re heavy.”
Samantha met his eyes. “It’s the shoes. And thank you, darling, you’re such a charmer. It’s what I love about you.”
Their eyes met and time seemed to tick one second for every ten. Her gaze went to his mouth, their last kiss coming to mind and the desire that streaked through her made a lie of what she’d been told pregnant women could feel.
After telling her their relationship was over, he’d said he’d be there if she needed him. She’d thought, Right, but then he’d shown up with the distractions, brought her that lovely lullaby CD and told her she should sit on the porch in the swing and listen to it… while she knitted.
Wait. Had she just said, “love”?
She shook herself mentally. “Or hate,” she muttered. “Please put me down.”
“No chance, Doc.” He made it out of the bathroom, carefully avoiding… the crowd of spectators in the hall.
Sam groaned. “Oh, God, kill me now.”
Chapter Eight
“The guest bedroom has a large en-suite,” Buffy told Jed, and pointed toward the end of the hallway and Victoria—Commander Larue—commanded, “Follow me.”
Jed did. Sam grimaced and muffled a cry into his shoulder as another pain struck her. She buried her face into his shoulder. He felt her breath coming in pants. “Hang in there, baby. You’re going to be okay.”
He heard Buffy telling Ridge to call 911.
Apparently, so did Samantha. “They’re not going to make it.” He felt the shake of her head against his neck, her hands gripping her stomach once again as she groaned.
“Jesus, they’re less than a minute apart,” he said, if his judgment could be trusted, because time had slowed to a snail’s pace since they’d left the bathroom.
Vic pushed the door open to a large bedroom with a queen-sized bed, a sitting area with a chaise lounge—maybe that would come in handy. Beyond he could see the en-suite bathroom Buffy had mentioned.
Jed said, “Victoria, get the shower curtain, please.” Sam’s mother strode to the bathroom to do as he'd requested.
Buffy’s voice came from behind him. “What can I do?”
Jed nuzzled Sam’s sweaty face as he looked at Buffy. “Do you have some extra clean sheets?”
She nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
“Ahh—ohh, Jed, it’s coming…”
“Not yet it isn’t,” said Jed. “Hold off, Doc. We’re almost ready okay?”
“Listen to the man, Lieutenant Larue,” said her Commander Mother. Vic looked at Jed and back at Sam. “He’s apparently the only one around here that knows what he’s doing.”
Jed felt a frisson of uncertainty. It had been years since he’d had the emergency childbirth class with the department, but he’d been secretly studying up, watching videos. He just hoped their confidence in him wasn’t misplaced. Better yet, that the ambulance got here before he had to do the deed.
Victoria shook out the plastic shower curtain. “Here?” she asked pointing to the bed.
He said, “Yes, and Buffy, I need some disinfectant, Clorox, hand sanitizer, whatever you have, and a bucket.”
“You’re not catching my baby in a bucket,” Sam gritted through her teeth trying to get free of his strong hold.
“It’s not for the baby. Now relax,” he soothed and grinned, though he didn't feel it. “I’ve been brushing up on my delivery training.”
“You—” Samantha felt tears spring to her eyes. He cared about her. Why else would the big jerk go to the trouble of “brushing up” and hang around an oversized pregnant sow like her?
Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 58
