DADDY BY CHOICE

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  Madelyn's brain was still a little fuzzy, so it took a moment before his words sank in. "You don't … surely you don't intend to sleep here?" Terribly conscious that she was clad in nothing more than a slip and her underwear beneath the coverlet, she glanced uneasily at the empty expanse of bed to her left.

  His sigh seemed to come all the way from his rundown boot heels. "Guess we need a little clarification here."

  "We certainly do," she declared stiffly.

  "Shove over, then, and let's get to it."

  Her slip made a whispery sound against the blanket as she scooted over to make room for him to sit on the edge of the bed. A hazy memory surfaced suddenly of Luke unbuttoning her blouse and easing off her skirt before folding one-half of the quilted bedspread over her like an afghan.

  "I won't sleep with you, Luke," she said. "I don't care how good a doctor you are or how much I need you."

  A silence hung between them, hot and dangerous. It was just beginning to dawn on her that she'd made a bad mistake when his eyes narrowed.

  "I left my house almost forty-eight hours ago for a delivery. I've been at the hospital or the office or here since then. I'm tired and I'm grumpy and my patience is stretched as thin as cellophane. So yeah, I intend to sleep here, on top of the covers if that makes you feel easier. As for sex, even if you were willing, I'm not. You're my patient, and I do not sleep with my patients."

  Shame was spreading heat over skin his gaze had iced. "Luke, I—"

  "I've already told Dorie to schedule an appointment for you on Monday, at which time we'll do another ultrasound. I'll probably ask you embarrassing questions about bodily functions, so be prepared. I don't mind if you blush, but I expect you to answer truthfully and in as much detail as I require." He paused, speared her with an impatient look. "Clear so far?"

  "Perfectly clear, although I'd just as soon not dwell overly long on the bodily functions part."

  Surprise burst in his eyes, erasing the angry impatience. "Yeah, well, neither would I, but it comes with the job." His voice was still cool, but a hint of his drawl had crept back. "Anything else we need to get straight between us before I head for the shower?"

  Her heart was still racing, but not from fear. The young bareback rider she'd known had been cocky and easygoing and heedless of his own mortality. What he hadn't been was kind when he'd taken her virginity. The man he'd become had shown her incredible kindness, but he'd also shown her temper and a hint of an implacable will. Even though she'd grown up around strong quick-tempered males, the tough lean cowboy doctor with the tired face and steely eyes was possibly the most formidable man she'd ever met.

  "Actually there is something I think you should know before this goes any further," she said, folding her hands primly over the coverlet.

  His eyes narrowed. "What's that?"

  She drew a breath, then sighed. "I snore."

  * * *

  The soup was vegetable beef, served hot, with crusty French bread. She ate it all, then worked at finishing her hot chocolate while he methodically worked his way through a huge steak dinner.

  The shower had removed some of the fatigue from his face. He'd washed his hair and slicked it back, giving his aggressively masculine features a naked vulnerable look. His eyes, however, were guarded, his thoughts hidden. Though he appeared relaxed, she knew he wasn't. But then, neither was she, though she was putting up a decent facade.

  "How long have you suffered from migraines?" His question came between bites of the peach pie he'd ordered for dessert.

  "I had the first one the day I signed the paper giving up my baby."

  His fork froze halfway to his mouth, and his eyes took on a tortured sheen before he slowly lowered the fork to the plate, then pushed it away. "Have you ever consulted a specialist?" he asked, reaching for his coffee cup.

  "Several." She toyed with the knife she hadn't used. "None could help me."

  His cup clicked against the saucer as he set it down. "It's possible the headaches will get worse during your pregnancy."

  "Yes, I know."

  Easing back, Luke studied her face. Her skin had regained color, especially along the rise of those classy-as-hell cheekbones. Though still shadowed, her river-green eyes reflected a lively intelligence and something he couldn't quite tag, which always made him edgy. Those soft pale lips, though, they made him want to beg.

  "Acupuncture helps some, so does Midol, though I'm not sure why," he said because it was true. And because he needed to remind himself that he was here as her doctor, and a doctor's sole concern should be for his patient's well-being. How she looked and smelled and riled his blood had no place in the doctor-patient relationship.

  "I like your friend, Prudy. If you wouldn't mind giving me her address, I'd like to send her some flowers as a thank-you."

  Because he was so tired, it took Luke a moment to realize she'd asked him a question. Somehow he summoned enough energy for a polite smile. His lower back was one angry pulsating knot, and his own head had begun to ache.

  "She'd like that," he managed.

  "Have you known her long?" He heard the note of polite tea-party conversation in her voice and felt empty inside.

  "About twelve years, I guess. She's the head nurse of the trauma unit." He drained his cup, grimacing a little at the bitter aftertaste. He'd ordered espresso, double strength. About halfway through the meal, however, he'd begun to fade and now not even the added jolt of caffeine could counteract the sleep deprivation that was fixing to take him down for the count.

  "Working in the ER must be very demanding."

  He managed a nod. "Worst rotation I ever had as an intern."

  "Was it difficult, going back to school?"

  "Yes, and you're not really interested in hearing about my life." Ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes, he pushed back his chair and managed to get to his feet without flinching. "If you don't mind, I'm going to sack out now." He grabbed the toothbrush he'd bought at the drugstore near the hospital, and somehow he made it to the bathroom without staggering. But it took him a good five minutes leaning against the closed door before he could move again.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Madelyn came awake to the sound of water gushing through pipes. Someone on the floor above was taking a shower. Frowning and still groggy from the deep sleep that always followed a migraine, she struggled to bring the red numerals of the bedside clock into focus. To her surprise, it was barely five. The last time she'd looked at the clock before sleep claimed her, it had been past midnight. Luke had been asleep for a good hour by then.

  When he'd come out of the bathroom, he'd ordered her to jab him hard in the ribs if her headache returned, then shucked his shirt, eased himself onto the mattress as though every movement was agony and closed his eyes. Then, between one breath and another, he'd simply shut down.

  He was still lying in the same position, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow even rhythm. His jaw was dark with morning beard, his brow slightly furrowed, his mouth relaxed. One hand was splayed over his flat belly, the other tucked under the pillow. His chest was bare, his shoulders wide, his skin permanently burned to bronze. He had huge arms, the bulging biceps roped with prominent veins that meandered in twisting lines along his wide forearms and muscular wrists to large very clean hands ridged with the permanent calluses of his years working the family ranch.

  Fanned over his chest was a pelt of soft dark hair liberally salted with silver. Below his rib cage a downy line bisected his belly before disappearing beneath the unbuttoned waistband of his jeans. Her body gave a silent yelp when her gaze skimmed his distended fly.

  "Sorry, it's not personal. Purely vascular."

  Her gaze snapped to his face. He was watching her through thick inky lashes, his expression guarded, his vivid blue eyes still faintly shadowed by weariness. He'd missed sleep and it was her fault, she realized, fighting off a strong urge to apologize. She'd blackmail the devil himself if tha
t's what it took to keep this baby safe.

  "I was just seeing if you were awake," she said truthfully if a bit curtly.

  "You fixin' to throw me out?"

  "Yes."

  He chuckled, then yawned hard enough to crack even that hard jaw, before drawing up his leg, tactfully hiding his distended groin from her view.

  "Give me a minute to shake off the cobwebs and I'll give you back your privacy."

  The baby kicked, and she shifted her attention to her belly. "Good morning to you, too," she murmured, rubbing what felt like a little foot.

  His quick grin was more than professional, less than intimate. "Gave you a kick, did she?"

  "He's a morning person."

  "Think it's a he?"

  "The tech who did the last ultrasound tried and tried to find out if this is a boy or a girl, but the baby was being stubborn. She decided it just had to be a boy because he was being so contrary."

  "Guess I can't argue with that."

  He lifted his hand from his chest to rake back his hair, then returned it to his chest, curled into a relaxed fist. She couldn't help noticing that he wore no rings and that his broad square nails were closely clipped. One knuckle was scarred, another badly misshapen. Probably broken in a bar fight.

  Reminding herself that she wasn't interested in the life he'd led over the years, she turned her head and regarded the fuzzy outline of the skyline beyond the gauzy window sheers.

  She was here because of the baby growing inside her now, not the one she'd had to give away. Fate had brought them together as temporary allies. As such, Luke deserved her respect and—she admitted with a mental gritting of her teeth—her courtesy.

  "I'm being ungracious, and I don't mean to be," she said. "You've been extremely kind, and I do appreciate it."

  "Not ungracious, Mama, just a little out of sorts. Nesting jitters, we call it in my business." His lazy grin was a white slash against his outlaw stubble. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you."

  "Big of you," she muttered on a sudden flare of anger that was utterly out of character for her.

  "Yeah, ain't it?" he said before his grin dissolved into another face-stretching yawn. "How're you feeling this morning?"

  "A little achy, but nothing major." As she scrambled out of bed and reached for her robe, he stretched his long arms over his head like a big cat still drowsy from a long nap, then turned to look at the clock.

  "You havin' any trouble with morning sickness these days?"

  "I had a little queasiness for a week or two, but I thought it was indigestion. Last night was the first time since I've been pregnant that I've, well, you know…" She glanced away as a vivid memory of the humiliating scene in the bathroom flashed into her mind.

  "Hey, I've hugged a few porcelain bowls in my time, too. At least you tossed your cookies in a good cause. Me, I was just stinkin' drunk."

  A fleeting smile crossed her lips. "I think last night had more to do with the migraine than the baby."

  "Diagnosin' again, Miz Foster?"

  She felt a swift pang of alarm. "Are you saying it might have been something more serious?"

  "Relax, Maddy … Madelyn. I was just trying to fill up all that tense silence I could just feel comin' on between us."

  "Tense, maybe, but silence, never. In the long illustrious history of the Lone Star State, no self-respecting Texas lady has ever allowed a pause in the conversation to last longer than ten seconds. And that was only because it took her that long to wrestle herself out from under the hand her husband had clamped over her mouth."

  His grin flashed, crinkling his eyes and arousing a slow melting feeling inside her. She turned away to take clean underwear from her suitcase.

  "You have any plans for this afternoon?" he asked a moment later.

  "Yes, I'm going to buy a newspaper, then spend the day checking out apartments for rent. Something small, preferably furnished and in a good neighborhood that I can rent month to month," she admitted as she slipped her blouse and skirt from the hangers. "At a ridiculously low rent of course."

  "Sounds doable." He closed his eyes. She could have sworn he was asleep by the time she closed the bathroom door behind her.

  * * *

  Luke was sitting on her side of the bed, talking on the phone in a low tone when she returned. He glanced up as she entered, lines fanning deeper into his temples as he spoke into the receiver. "Yeah, I love you, too," he said with a laugh as Madelyn turned away to grant him what little privacy the room afforded.

  So Prudy was wrong, she thought with an odd little tug inside. Luke did have someone special in his life. And really, why shouldn't he? Certainly it was no concern of hers.

  The sleek light-rail trolley swooshing past on the street below drew her attention to the window. The sun was up now, splashing the dark-green carpet with a band of gold. Spirits rising, she followed a sunbeam to the window. Warmth bathed her face as she drew back the curtains to look out over the city.

  One of the oldest cities to spring up in the Oregon Territory, Portland had the look of a bustling dynamic riverfront community. Two bridges were visible from her vantage point, spanning a river that glistened like a pale blue ribbon in the sunshine. In the compact central district, a number of smaller more traditional buildings constructed of weathered stone blocks sat like sturdy supplicants at the feet of ultramodern structures of glass and steel. She liked the blend, she realized. The old and the new. A perfect metaphor for her life at this moment.

  "Nice day for apartment huntin'."

  She turned to find Luke off the phone and watching her. Madelyn felt a skitter of nerves along her spine. Old tapes, she told herself as she curved her lips into a polite smile. "It's a glorious day for apartment hunting," she corrected. "I have a feeling I'm going to find the perfect place."

  "Were I a bettin' man, I'd say it was a sure thing," Luke drawled as he got to his feet and ambled loose-hipped and lazy into the bathroom.

  * * *

  He returned a few minutes later to find Madelyn sitting at the small table near the window, writing in a bulging leather-bound notebook. Seeing her with sunshine in her hair made him ache.

  Spending the night had been pure misery. When his back hadn't been giving him fits, he'd been staring at the ceiling, trying not to remember how her body had looked in that frothy excuse for a slip he'd found under the demure schoolteacher's skirt and blouse. His hands had itched to dive under the silk and lace to stroke the even silkier skin beneath.

  Reminding himself that he was her doctor, for thirteen more weeks, anyway, Luke strapped his watch to his wrist and slipped his beeper over his belt, then stuffed his keys and wallet into his pockets before sitting down on the edge of the bed to tug on his boots. "What's with the Yellow Pages?" he asked as he got to his feet, his attention on the buttons of his shirt.

  "Rental agents. I'm making a list to consult in case I don't find anything in the paper."

  "Waste of time." A quick glance at his watch told him his was running short. At this rate he'd be lucky to snag a cup of lousy staff coffee before he had to conduct teaching rounds. His mood dipping and his thoughts already turning to the patients he had waiting, he unzipped his jeans, shoved the shirttails out of sight, adjusted his briefs, then did himself up again. He was rolling up his sleeves when he realized she was scowling at him. He lifted his eyebrows. "Something wrong?"

  Her gaze narrowed. "Are you always this … casual around your patients?"

  "Casual?"

  "Undressing publicly," she amplified with prim irritation.

  Swallowing the laughter that wanted to spill out, he made a big show of glancing down at his favorite shirt, well-seasoned jeans and worn-in boots. He waited a beat, then let his gaze find hers again. "How much more dressed you want me to be, exactly?"

  She blinked, then fought a smile. "I sound like a real prude, don't I?"

  "Uh-uh," he drawled, lifting both hands. "No way am I gonna answer that question. No, ma'am."

 
; Her smile burst free, giving him a real good look at that little dimple just above the right corner of her mouth. His mind stuttered.

  "I'm sorry, Luke. I know this is difficult."

  "Once you get used to me, things will even out."

  Her smile faded and her eyes grew cautious. "I knew this was going to be stressful on some level, but—" She stopped abruptly, then dipped her head and rubbed her fingers over her forehead before glancing up again. "I was prepared to use whatever means necessary to force you to help me. I didn't expect to resent you because you're making it so easy."

  "Then don't." He checked his watch again, then grabbed his bag and walked to the door. After releasing the dead bolt, he turned. "I'm scheduled to conduct teaching rounds this morning, but I should be able to shake loose about nine, nine-thirty. Prue's workin' seven to three today, but she's gonna leave the key with a neighbor."

  The nervous little frown he hadn't quite forgotten formed between her eyebrows. "What key?"

  "The key to the house on Mill Works Ridge I arranged for you to rent from one of Prue's neighbors who's lookin' for a house-sitter for the next four or five months," he said as he pulled open the door.

  "What?" She shot to her feet so fast her tummy bumped the table. "Luke, wait!"

  "Make sure you drink your orange juice, Mama," he ordered before shutting the door behind him.

  * * *

  Madelyn drank her juice. But not because he'd told her to. And not until she'd satisfied her craving for caffeine.

  The first day of the rest of her life was going to be a beauty—and a perfect day for apartment hunting. Which she fully intended to do after she'd taken a polite look at the place Luke mentioned.

  To her surprise and delight, the room-service waiter had delivered a copy of the Oregonian with her breakfast, and she'd seized the opportunity to quiz the congenial young man on the most likely areas of the city to begin her search. The university district seemed the most promising place to find furnished units. It was also conveniently located—and safe for a woman alone, the waiter had assured her. She'd already circled several possibilities in the classifieds, but since it was still only seven-thirty, she decided to wait another hour or so before she began calling.