She lifted her eyes to look at him. Lincoln was sitting in the chair next to her bed, waiting patiently for her to finish. But he didn’t look ill at ease or nervous. No, he looked cool, calm and confident. In short, he didn’t look like a man who thought he’d have to bribe his way into the room. He looked like a man who’d already made whatever decision had to be made. And it made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.
She set down the chocolate cupcake, praying whatever he said wasn’t about to ruin her appetite. ‘What do you want, Linc?’
He nodded slowly, his eyes fixing on hers. ‘We need to talk, Amy.’
She bit her lip. Where was this going to go? ‘What about?’
He sat a little straighter. ‘Baby Esther is ready to go home—to go back to the White House. She’s ready for discharge, and once I finish her paperwork, the plans will be in place.’
Amy nodded. What did this have to do with her?
Lincoln’s face was serious. ‘Once she’s ready to go, I have to go. We have to go.’
The penny dropped. Like a huge boulder throwing itself off the edge of a cliff. ‘Oh.’
She should have known this was coming. At first, it hadn’t even occurred to her—the fact that Lincoln wouldn’t be staying here. She’d been so caught up in getting to where he was and making him agree to look after her baby that she’d had tunnel vision. But after a few days stuck as an inpatient in Pelican Cove she’d started to worry. The First Lady wasn’t likely to stay here for long. What would happen then? The truth was, she’d more or less expected to have her baby in a matter of days. But Junior seemed to be making his own plans.
‘So, it’s time to make a decision.’ Amy felt as if she could throw up. Once baby Esther left, there was no reason for any of the staff or facilities that had been spirited into Pelican Cove to stay. What about her? What about her baby? And why did Lincoln look so calm?
‘I need to pack up all the NICU equipment and arrange for my staff to return to San Francisco.’
Duh. She’d just realised that.
‘I need to return to San Francisco, as I’ve got duties and commitments there…’
She nodded dumbly. Of course he did.
‘So I thought it best to make some arrangements for you and the baby.’ He picked up her chart. She hadn’t even noticed him bringing it into the room. Arrangements. Did he know how clinical that sounded?
‘David still has some concerns about your condition. You’re coming up on twenty-nine weeks, but your blood pressure is still borderline—even with the anti-hypertensives—and you’re still showing protein in your urine.’
His hand brushed against hers, his voice softening, becoming less businesslike and more friendlike. ‘Chances are, this baby is still going to come early. You came to Pelican Cove because you wanted me to be the one to look after your baby. Is that still what you want, Amy?’
She nodded. Words escaped her right now. Her mind was too full of jumbled thoughts to say anything coherent. Where was this going?
Lincoln nodded and gave her a little smile. ‘In that case, I think I might have found a solution for us, then.’
‘Solution?’ The word gave her hope. Because, right now, she needed some.
‘You can come back to San Francisco with me.’ There. He’d said it. The words that had been coiled up inside his chest since he’d came to the conclusion a few hours ago. In his head, that made perfect sense.
Right now he was leaving out the way he felt drawn to her room in the hospital, day or night, for no good reason. She was like a magnet to him and he was instantly drawn.
And in his head that was perfect. She’d disappeared out of his life before and he’d no intention of letting it happen again. But this time he’d be more careful. Amy had searched him out. She’d come to find him. She wanted his skills and expertise—and she could have them. And maybe it could give him some time to work out how he felt about her.
It took him a few seconds to realise she hadn’t spoken. She seemed frozen to the spot, or to the bed. Her mouth was hanging open, and her hands had the slightest tremor.
Time to fill in the blanks. Time to persuade her it was most reasonable and viable option for her.
‘I know you’ve been looked after in Santa Maria—but you came here because you didn’t have a physician there you could trust. And the most important thing is that you have someone you trust looking after your baby.
‘David will be staying in Pelican Cove. He could continue to treat you, if that’s what you prefer. But even he is worried about an early delivery. The normal protocol in Pelican Cove is that someone in your condition would be transferred to San Francisco Children and Maternity Hospital—where we have excellent facilities for neonates.’ He let her take in the words, rationalise it in her brain.
‘I can arrange for one of the obstetricians there to take over your care. There are two I would absolutely trust with my life. I wouldn’t recommend them to you otherwise.’ He ran his fingers through his tousled hair, a sign of his nerves. Was this going well?
‘We could arrange to get there tomorrow. I’ll get one of the obstetricians to review you immediately and decide on how to proceed. If there’s any emergency, I’ll be close by and available to be at the delivery.’
His words hung in the air. There. He’d said them. And whilst he knew every word he’d said was true, there was still that tiny little bit of him that knew there was an element of emotional blackmail in there. He was using her fear for her child to get her exactly where he wanted her.
He didn’t like the word manipulate. It seemed like something from a bad-guy movie. Something that the villain did. But he’d never said he was perfect. He’d never said he didn’t have flaws. He was just a man. Trying to get his girl.
Amy’s hands were resting on the bedside table—probably to control a tremor. She thought of her empty apartment in Santa Maria, with the baby’s things still flat-packed into boxes. She didn’t have any family any more, but she had good friends there who were happy to help out and support her. She was lucky that she had regular hours at the clinic that meant she could plan her childcare hours in advance. So why did it feel as if all the plans she had made were crumbling around her?
‘But where would I stay? I don’t know anyone in San Francisco?’ It looked as if it was just one of a million thoughts that were currently scurrying around in her brain.
‘That’s easy. You’ll stay with me.’
Amy choked, then coughed and spluttered, her face turning redder and redder by the second. Lincoln jumped to his feet and leapt behind her, thumping his hand on her back until she stopped then grabbing a glass of water from the nearby locker and handing it to her. ‘Here, take this.’
She took a little sip, taking in deep frantic breaths, trying to fill her lungs with the air that seemed to have been sucked from them when he’d said those words.
She blew the air out slowly through thick pursed lips, then turned to face him. ‘How on earth can I come and stay with you, Lincoln? You haven’t seen me in six years. You don’t owe me anything. Yes, I want you to deliver my baby but I don’t expect anything else from you, and I certainly don’t expect this.’
Her voice was slow and steady, but he could see the panic in her eyes. She was frantic, swimming in an ocean where she was out her depth and being pulled out with the current. Seemed she was as scared of the scenario as he was.
‘Amy, the fact is you can stay anywhere you want to. But if you are going to come to San Francisco, it makes sense that you stay with a friend. There’s no point in running up a hotel bill—you could deliver tomorrow, or in six weeks’ time. And in your current condition it makes even more sense if that friend has some medical expertise.’ The words were plain. Sensible, and he knew it. They sounded rational and reasonable.
They
didn’t tell her that his heart was suddenly thudding against his chest and his stomach was turning inside out at the thought of her not agreeing to this.
‘I’d like to think that as soon as we get to San Francisco one of my colleagues will assess you. They might even want to admit you. But if, like Pelican Cove, they want to see you on a daily basis, it makes sense that you stay with me. I live five minutes away from the hospital in a two-bedroom apartment. I’ve got a housekeeper that comes in twice a week, so you won’t feel obliged to do anything. Just relax with your feet up and wait for this baby to arrive.’
She was still silent. It looked as if she were trying to formulate words in her brain. Was she looking for an easy way to let him down? To tell him she couldn’t possibly stay with him? He couldn’t hear that.
It was time to play his trump card.
He kept his voice strong and confident. He wanted her to feel assured, safe. He also wanted to play to her fun side. ‘Look at it this way, Amy, you’ll get to do another thing on your list.’
‘My list?’ Her eyes were blank, as if the list was the last thing on her mind.
Lincoln nodded and touched her hand. ‘I didn’t mention where I stay, did I? I’ve got an apartment in Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. It’s actually just where the cable cars turn to start their journey again. You’ll have number seven on your list at your fingertips.’
Even as he said the words he questioned his wisdom. Doing something on her list was never going to be the deciding factor for her. But right now desperate times called for desperate measures. And he’d use whatever it took.
She looked a bit dazed, shocked.
‘Amy?’
Her voice had the slightest tremor. ‘It’s a lot to think about.’ She stood up and pushed the bedside table away, walking over to the window and looking out over Pelican Cove. Her hands were placed protectively over her stomach, as if she were cradling her baby inside.
Inside her brain was in turmoil. Why hadn’t she planned ahead? Why hadn’t she foreseen this? The safety of her baby was always going to be paramount, but what about the safety of her soul?
The last few days had brought a huge surge of emotions to the fore. Maybe they were pregnancy related? But right now every time she was in a room with Lincoln she couldn’t think of anything else.
The thought of running up a hotel bill made her blood run cold. Her maternity salary was comfortable enough to cover her rent and outgoings, but not unexpected outgoings like these.
Stay in his apartment? He must be out of his mind! She had visions in her head of two lions stalking around their prey. That’s what it would feel like. How could she possibly be relaxed around Lincoln when every second she would be waiting to see if he would touch her, look at her, take her in his arms and…
‘I don’t think it would work.’ The words were out before she had a chance to think about them.
‘Why?’ Lincoln looked confused. He walked towards her and put his arms on either side of her shoulders. His face seemed so open, so honest. With no concerns, no worries. He really didn’t know. He really didn’t realise what he did to her.
But, then, how could he, if she’d never told him?
‘I… I…’ Her throat was dry, her tongue sticking to the top of her mouth.
‘It’s the perfect solution—surely you can see that?’ Then he did it. He gave her that killer smile. The one that used to unnerve her from across the room and make her knees buckle. The smile that sent a thousand feather-like touches skittering across her skin. And something inside her heart lurched.
Hope. The feeling she’d felt when she’d seen him on television and had known she’d be able to find him and ask for help.
The sensations that had engulfed her when she’d first set eyes on him after six long years.
The heat and warmth that had swept through her body when he’d touched her, when he’d kissed her.
The look in his eyes on the beach when he’d told her that he’d searched for her and it had sent loose a thousand butterflies, beating their wings inside her chest.
Hope.
A sensation she only recognised now. The same sensation she’d steeled inside herself when she’d written the list.
He reached up, catching a curl of hair that had fallen in front of her eye, tucking it behind her ear. He was looking at her with those dark-rimmed eyes. She was mesmerised. And she wanted more.
Maybe this was the way to get it.
‘You’re right,’ she breathed. ‘It makes perfect sense. When do we leave?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMY looked out of the apartment window, across the rippling San Francisco bay to Alcatraz. What a view. It was strange how a piece of rock could seem so foreboding and enigmatic, rising up from the grey waves. Even from this distance she could see the ferry pulling in again, no doubt unloading its cargo of tourists all anxious to capture the moment on camera.
Everywhere she looked there were tourists. The iconic Powell-Hyde cable car turntable at Fisherman’s Wharf was practically under her nose, with a constant stream of people lining up to get their photo snapped next to it. She looked back over her shoulder, into the spacious wooden-floored apartment. This really was a prime piece of real estate and she shuddered to think how much it had cost.
Amy glanced at her watch for the third time in ten minutes. ‘Resting’ wasn’t easy for a girl who was used to being on her feet in a busy ward for twelve hours a day. Three long days she’d been looking out of this window into the wonderful world of bustling San Francisco beneath her. Currently just out of her reach.
Daily hospital monitoring and strict bed rest. It almost sounded like a prison sentence. The irony of the view of Alcatraz wasn’t lost on her.
Her blood pressure hadn’t improved, her urine still had protein in it, but thankfully her oedema was under control and she hadn’t developed any other symptoms. It hadn’t stopped her newest obstetrician, Cassidy Yates—a statuesque blonde who watched Lincoln out of the corner of her eye—from referring to the local protocols and administering some steroids to help develop the baby’s lungs in case of early delivery. For the past three days Amy had travelled with him into work and he’d dropped her at the day unit for monitoring and assessment.
Twenty-nine weeks and three days. Right now her extended abdomen felt like a ticking time bomb. Then there was being here. In Lincoln’s apartment, surrounded all day by little pieces of him.
The good thing was…he’d been the perfect gent. Welcoming, considerate and ever attentive. The frustrating thing was…he’d been the perfect gent. And it was driving her crazy.
Amy sighed and flopped down into the nearby red leather armchair, pushing until the seat tilted backwards and the leg rest sprang out. There was nothing to do—Lincoln had said he would take care of dinner, so all she could do right now was wait.
The trouble with waiting was that it left too much time to think. Too much time to look out at the busy life below and wonder when you could be part of it again. She felt a sharp kick under her ribs and drew a deep breath. She pulled up her smock top to reveal her baby bump.
She watched the squirms under her skin—if this were a movie, any minute now a twelve-armed alien would burst from her stomach. Baby Zachary had obviously decided to have a party in there, and he was certainly beginning to object to the reducing space. Her hands hovered just above her belly, wondering where the next punch would appear. It really was amazing to think that she would hold him in her arms soon. What would he look like? Would he have red hair and pale skin like her? Or the physical characteristics of his sperm donor father?
She could remember the details on the resume. Sperm Donor 867. Dark hair, green eyes (best to choose someone with the same eye colour you had), over six feet tall, college education. But did any of that r
eally matter? Would genetics really decide the sum of her baby? Was it all nature or was it nurture?
She lifted her hands to her head, gently massaging her temples. Her head was starting to throb slightly, nothing to worry about—not enough to search the cupboards for paracetamol, just enough to annoy her thought processes.
What would her son’s interests be? Her sperm donor had been a jock—no doubt about that. Every sport known to man had been on his list of interests. What did she know about football? But he’d also been academic, and had specialised in education.
So would her son be like his father or more like her? Reckless at times, occasionally unpredictable? In future years would she have to sit up at night, worrying about what time he would come in?
Zachary squirmed again under her skin, as if sensing her breath was currently caught in her chest. Why did she feel so panicked? She’d started this process six years ago—more than enough time to think about the end product. She’d spent the last two weeks worrying about premature birth and safe delivery. So why now was she panicking about hair colour and little-boy interests?
‘That’s some sight.’
Amy let out a shriek, pulling down her smock top and leaping up from the chair. Lincoln stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, a smile of amusement on his face.
‘Lincoln! I didn’t hear you.’ She could feel the colour rushing into her face. ‘Where did you spring from?’
He crossed the room in a couple of steps, his hands resting lightly on the tops of her arms. ‘Where I always spring from—work. Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘You didn’t… Well, you did, but I think that I… I mean…’
‘You’re babbling.’ His voice was calm, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye that even she could notice in the dimming light.
She looked around her. When had it got so dark? ‘What time is it?’
West Wing to Maternity Wing! Page 11
