by Selena Kitt
She waved him away, rolling her eyes and heading toward the door again. “Honestly, my father bought the best tutor money could buy. I really don’t think—”
He grabbed her backpack strap, pulling her fully back against him. She glanced over her shoulder and those blue eyes flashed and pinned her to the spot. She forgot how to breathe.
“Bailey, do you want to be a midwife?”
“More than anything in the world,” she managed. Her voice was small, breathy. He had her facing the periodic table, trapped between him and the wall.
“Then meet me here.” He slipped the business card into the open side pocket of her backpack. “Tomorrow at seven.”
“Is this a date?”
His lips parted and she remembered that kiss. Just thinking of it sent a jolt of electricity through her. His gaze dropped to her lips and she knew, she just knew, he was thinking of it too.
He’s your teacher, dummy! What are you doing?
He was so close she could smell him, that dark, masculine scent. And underneath that, they both smelled raw. Like sex. It made her feel a little wild, like an animal.
“Bailey.” He said her name like he was trying it out in his mouth for the first time, but his words didn’t match his demeanor. “I don’t sleep with my students.”
“I…I’m sure you don’t.” She swallowed, trying to remember how to breathe. In and out. Oh god, that didn’t help. “I didn’t mean—”
“But if you weren’t my student…”
“If…” she breathed. He was closer, pressing her against the wall. If her backpack hadn’t been in the way, she would have felt the heat of his bare chest, his shirt still open.
His lips brushed her ear. “I’d clear my desk and have you bent over it right now.”
She gulped, feeling the cool brick wall through the thin material of her blouse.
“I’m sure that’s just the adrenaline talking.” She gave him a way out but he didn’t take it. Instead, he shifted, and what she’d imagined he would feel like against her was nothing compared to the heat of him trapping her against the wall, her backpack slipped to the side. He braced himself against the wall, hands on either side of her head, as if he didn’t trust himself to touch her. But he leaned into her and she felt the iron heat of his erection through the denim of his jeans.
“No,” he whispered. “It’s my cock talking. I’m hard as a rock and it isn’t because of that short little skirt you’ve got on, although I can’t say I haven’t imagined pulling it up and seeing for myself what you’ve got hidden under there.”
Oh.My.God.
“Then what is it?” Bailey thought she might faint.
“You.” His lips against her ear made goose bumps appear up and down her arms. “You’re fucking amazing.”
“I should go,” she insisted, although she didn’t move toward the door.
“You’d better.” And just like that, he let her go, stalking back toward his desk.
“Seven tomorrow?” She turned to look at him working the buttons on his shirt, tucking it into his jeans.
“Don’t be late,” he said, buttoning his cuffs.
“I won’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she slipped out his office door.
* * * *
What in the hell am I doing?
Bailey stood in front of the mirror, pulling at the hem of her dress—it was even shorter and far more form-fitting than the one she’d worn to class—wondering if she might be losing her mind after all. The fumes from all those chemistry experiments had gone to her head. He’d said it wasn’t a date—but then he’d proceeded to tell her how much he wanted to fuck her.
Mind games. I hate mind games.
But she didn’t hate Professor Jacobs—Dom. She thought of him as Dom now. She wanted to hate him, considering he was the only thing standing between her and her dream, but hating him would just be shooting the messenger. She sucked at chemistry. It was a fact. She couldn’t blame him for that.
I have an idea.
What did he mean by that? She wondered.
“So you’re off to fuck the chemistry prof for an A, right?” Joanna poked her head in, grinning.
“Shut up, Jo.” Bailey turned, surveying her curvy figure in the soft, grey form-fitted dress she’d chosen that barely came to mid-thigh. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh really?” Joanna raised her eyebrows as Bailey slung her purse over her shoulder. “So you’re risking frostbite on your nether regions for nothing?”
“It’s a nice restaurant, that’s all.” She’d actually had to look it up. She’d never been to Camille’s on the River before.
“Whatever you say.” Joanna rolled her eyes.
“Are we on-call tonight?”
Joanna shared the nights with another doula. They’d been friends since grade school but it was Joanna’s mother’s turn-of-life baby that had gotten the girls involved. Joanna’s interest in babies—and how they were made—had sparked Bailey’s interest back in middle school. They’d poured over nursing and obstetric texts, sitting cross-legged in the library, awed by the whole process, from beginning to end.
“Yeah. So don’t turn off your phone.” Joanna admonished her from the couch where Simon had curled up and was purring so loudly Bailey could hear him even with her head in the closet. Joanna let her go as a “birth photographer.” Photography happened to be Bailey’s other passion and the money she received from families doing birth photos paid for anything fun she wanted to do, since most of her paycheck went toward rent and food.
“Even if you end up back at his place.” Joanna grinned as Bailey pulled her shabby, puffy, pink winter jacket out of the closet.
“I told you it’s not—”
“It’s not like that, so you say.” Joanna rolled her eyes, pushing the cat off her lap and coming over to the closet. She grabbed Bailey’s coat and hung it back up. “But if anything does happen, I want all the deets when you get home!”
“There won’t be any… deets,” Bailey protested as her friend pulled out her own long, black wool coat.
“You don’t wear come-fuck-me pumps if you’re not expecting to get fucked,” Joanna stage-whispered, as if Simon cared what they were talking about. She handed over her wool coat. “Wear this. At least your legs won’t freeze.”
“Shut up, Jo.” Bailey stuck out her tongue.
“It’s a shame to cover that dress. You can see everything.”
Bailey turned, buttoning her coat, about to say the words but her friend interrupted.
“I know, I know, shut up, Jo!” She laughed, pushing Bailey out the door. “Have a good night! And remember, I want details!”
* * * *
The restaurant was packed, which wasn’t a surprise for a Saturday night in a college town. Bailey hung back behind a group giving their name to the maître d', glancing around the dimly lit restaurant in hopes she would see him. The maître d' looked up at her expectantly and she stepped up, clearing her throat, about to speak his name when he appeared, stepping around the podium to take her arm.
“We’re over here.” Dom nodded toward the back of the restaurant. “Want to hang up your coat?”
Bailey let him slide it off her shoulders and she heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw her dress. She smiled coyly when he missed the hook—twice—because he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she smoothed the soft material over her hips. Once her coat was squared away, they headed around the bar. It was dark and cozy and she wondered if he’d been fibbing when he told her he didn’t sleep with students, because this felt like a date to her.
Until they got to the table and he introduced her to his mother.
“Bailey!” The woman was tall—she stood as they approached, her hands out in welcome—and Bailey saw where her son had inherited his curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. “Dom has told me so much about you! Come! Sit!”
What else could she do? The woman took both her hands, squeezing gently as they sat. Bailey sank in
to the chair beside her as Dom slipped around to the back of the table. The woman still hadn’t let go of her hands. In fact, she turned them over to look at Bailey’s palms, scrutinizing.
“Good hands. Strong hands.” The dark haired woman met her eyes and smiled. “A midwife’s hands.”
Bailey’s whole body tingled at her words and she stared at the smiling woman, incredulous.
“I guess I should introduce you.” Dom sat back in his chair, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary. “Bailey, this is my mother—Regina Jacobs. She’s been a midwife for thirty years. Mom, this is Bailey—she’s the one I told you about.”
Bailey gaped at him, the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. No wonder he had so much knowledge about birth!
The woman rolled her eyes in her son’s direction, now holding Bailey’s wrists as she leaned in to whisper, “Ignore Captain Obvious over there—we’re women, we know. I could tell the moment I saw you that you were born to be a midwife.”
“How—” Bailey blinked, glancing down at her dress—the one she’d worn when she was sure this was a date—and then up into Regina’s dancing blue eyes. She certainly wasn’t dressed like some hippy-dippy midwife, at least not tonight!
“Oh, I know these things.” Regina finally let go, reaching for an empty glass on the table and flagging the waitress as she passed. “Another strawberry margarita for me and one for this lovely young lady.”
“Oh, no—” Bailey shook her head, still trying to let it all sink in, and she was pretty sure alcohol wouldn’t help the process.
“You are over twenty-one?” Regina raised an arched eyebrow.
She nodded. “Twenty-three.”
“Good. Two strawberry margaritas then. Dom, do you want more of that piss water you call beer?”
Bailey hid a smile. She was starting to like Regina, in spite of her boundary issues—in that, she didn’t seem to have any!
“I’m good.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and Bailey noted the label. Miller High Life.
“So I heard you delivered your first baby!” Regina’s hand found Bailey’s knee under the table, giving it a squeeze. “Tell me. Everything!”
“I already told you, Mom,” Dom reminded her. Bailey met his eyes and that feeling came back instantly. The adrenaline made her heart pump and her skin tingle. They had shared a moment so intimate it was beyond words. And then that kiss…
“Oh, hush.” Regina didn’t even glance at her son. She was focused solely on Bailey “Tell me.”
So she did. From the moment she’d discovered Sunny laboring in the women’s room to the moment the EMTs arrived, all aghast that no one had cut the cord.
Regina laughed at that.
“Silly men. They learn from books, what do they know?”
“Hey now,” Dom protested, his brows drawn together in that cute way all the girls talked about whenever he was annoyed. “Books are a good source of knowledge.”
“Sometimes,” his mother agreed, but she sounded like she was placating her son and he looked like he knew it. When Bailey smiled behind her margarita he shot her a look that said he knew damned well who she was siding with.
“But…” Regina raised her eyebrows in his direction and he rolled his eyes like he knew there had been a “but” coming. “Sometimes they’re written by institutions with their own agenda and have nothing to do with science—or evidence-based medicine for that matter.”
“Okay, Mother, let’s not argue science textbooks—we’ll be here all night.” He put his beer on the table, leaning forward and looking straight at Bailey. He made her toes curl when he looked at her like that. “Besides, we’re here for Bailey, remember?”
“So we are!” Regina turned back to Bailey, all smiles and jangly bracelets. She had so many rings on her fingers Bailey lost count and she couldn’t tell if the one on her ring finger was a wedding ring or not. “So tell me how you handled the shoulder dystocia.”
Bailey told her. She told her about the stuck shoulder, how the baby had turtled and turned dusky. She told her about finding the crook of the armpit, how Sunny had screamed but she had continued, pulling the baby’s little arm down and out. She even told her how Dom had helped, keeping Sunny as focused and calm as he could. Bailey smiled over at him when she told this part and his eyes never left her. Regina laughed and said he’d always been a big help at births whenever she had to take him along when he was young.
Of course, now Bailey knew how he had so much knowledge about birth. No wonder!
She told Regina all the details. Well, almost all of them. She didn’t tell her, of course, about the kiss, or about the way Dom had looked at her in his office, the way he had pressed her against the wall as she was leaving, the words he’d whispered in her ear.
She left that part out.
“You know, I’ve seen seasoned and experienced midwives freeze and panic in that situation?” Regina smiled at the waitress as she put down their drinks, interrupting her as the blonde lifted her notepad, ready to take their order. “I’m afraid we’ve been chatting and haven’t even looked at the menu. Can you give us a few more minutes?”
“Of course.” The waitress tucked her notepad into her apron, smiling at Dom. “Take your time. Can I get you another beer?”
“I’m fine.” He tipped his beer at her with a wink. It was a flirty little gesture and Bailey felt a strange stab of jealousy when the waitress winked back. Bailey could almost hear her unuttered reply, “Yes, honey, you are very fine.”
“I don’t know how I remembered what to do, to tell you the truth,” Bailey continued, ignoring the rise of Dom’s eyebrows in her direction. Had her displeasure shown on her face? Her cheeks felt warm but that was probably because of the alcohol. “I’ve read about it. And my friend, Joanna, she’s a doula. I attend births with her, as a photographer.”
“A birth photographer too!” Regina exclaimed. “A woman of so many talents.”
“I told you so.” Dom smirked as he finished off his beer.
“So how many times have you seen a shoulder dystocia?” Regina sat back, sipping her margarita, and Bailey thought how odd it was, how comfortable she was around this woman. There was something about her that made you just want to relax. Unless, of course, that was the alcohol talking.
“I’d seen it done, twice,” Bailey explained, starting in on her second margarita. She wasn’t much of a drinker anymore—as an undergrad she’d learned her lesson—so the alcohol was making her feel a little sleepy.
“By doctors?” Regina raised her eyebrows. “They usually do suprapubic pressure.”
Dom snorted. “That’s because they put birthing women on their backs.”
“He knows too much.” Regina patted his hand with a laugh. “Besides, don’t you like women on their backs, dear?”
Bailey couldn’t help laughing with her.
“I prefer other positions, actually,” Dom replied, looking between them, amused rather than annoyed.
“Not a doctor,” Bailey countered, shaking her head, trying to ignore the heat in her belly at the thought of being in any position with Dom. “They have nurse-midwives on staff at the birth center.”
“So when did you first get the calling?”
It sounded ridiculous, like she’d been called by God to be a nun—which she most definitely had not, considering how wet her panties were getting with Dom’s hungry eyes on her—but she understood what Regina meant in an instant. Bailey and Jo had bonded over birth and it had been part of their lives ever since.
“My friend’s mother had her last baby at home,” Bailey explained.
“A home birth!” Regina clapped, delighted. “Is this the same friend who is now a doula?”
“Yes. Joanna. We’ve been best friends since grade school.”
Regina sipped her drink. “And you were present at this birth?”
“It was amazing.” Bailey smiled, remembering. “I think I was twelve or thirteen. She had a nurse-midwife attending.�
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“Ah, that explains it.” Regina gave a knowing nod. “Most won’t attend home births. They can lose their license.”
“I didn’t know that.” Bailey blinked at her in surprise.
“Oh welcome to the politics of midwifery.” Regina looked up as the waitress approached, smiling at her. “Well I guess we should order. Does anyone know what they want?”
Bailey hadn’t even opened her menu. Dom ordered—a steak, cooked rare, a baked potato and another beer—while the women looked over the menu. Regina ordered a salad and Dom rolled his eyes but when Bailey ordered a cheeseburger and fries, he brightened.
“I have to eat something to counter the alcohol,” Bailey explained. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“She’ll have another margarita,” Dom told the waitress, smirking at Bailey as he handed his menu over.
“So Dom tells me you’re studying to be a nurse-midwife?”
“Yeah.” Bailey made a face across the table at him. “If I could pass his chemistry class.”
“Why are you bothering?” Regina’s brow wrinkled the same way her son’s did, Bailey noticed.
“Well, I want to deliver babies.” Bailey’s margarita was gone but the waitress had set down another and she sipped it nervously.
Regina frowned. “You don’t need chemistry to deliver babies.”
“I know!” Bailey stuck her tongue out at Dom and his smirk over there across the table, like he was personally responsible for her nursing prerequisites. “Seems like a silly requirement to me too.”
“I’ve never taken chemistry in my life and I’ve delivered over two-hundred babies.”
Regina’s words sank in and Bailey looked at her, confused. She glanced over at Dom, meeting his eyes. They were bright, dancing.
“She’s a lay midwife,” Dom told her.
“A…what?” Bailey blinked. Her brain was working too slowly.
“I’ll have you know, I’m a Certified Professional Midwife.” Regina shook her finger at her son, but she was only mock-angry—she was smiling. “Now that the Midwives Alliance has made that possible.”
“After two hundred babies, you’d think a certification wouldn’t matter.” Dom glanced up as the waitress brought their dinner. “Wow, that was quick.”
