THE TROUBLEMAKER BRIDE

by Leanne Banks

  * * *

  Contents:

  Prologue

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

  * * *

  Prologue

  ^ »

  Nine-year-old Maddie Palmer dropped the needle on the record and made a quick dash for the bar stool. She scrambled onto the seat and stood. "One, two, three, four!" she yelled out just like Davey Rogers of the Pink Bubblegum rock band.

  Grinning at her pals, Emily and Jenna Jean, she belted out the opening chorus along with her favorite rock star. Her friends stood on top of the seats of matching brown vinyl bar stools and sang along. Since it was raining on Cherry Lane

  today, Maddie had talked the baby-sitter into letting her and her friends play in the basement.

  Life was good. The baby-sitter let her play the music as loudly as she wanted. She'd just bought the new 45 record spinning on her record player. She was strumming her pretend guitar, a badminton racket, with her two best friends. Maddie was even wearing Emily's fancy tiara. And for once she wasn't grounded.

  When the record ended with a loud static sound, Maddie jumped off the stool and ran to the record player. "Let's do it again," she said, holding the tiara in place with her other hand. "If we get good enough, maybe we could put on a show and charge people a quarter to hear us sing."

  Dressed in a pink pinafore, Emily looked at her badminton racket doubtfully. "I don't know, Maddie. I don't think I'm a very good rock star."

  Jenna Jean bounced her racket against her fist. "I don't know if anyone is gonna pay to see us. We might have to give them food or something. Those creepy boys would just laugh." She looked at Maddie. "Besides, these rackets look more like banjos than electric guitars."

  "Well, maybe we could serve fruit punch and cookies," Maddie suggested, ignoring the comment about the badminton rackets since she couldn't do anything about it. She was more worried about her voice. She lived in mortal fear that her singing sounded as bad to others as it did to her, but she was too chicken to ask her friends to tell the truth, so she just sang as loudly as she could.

  "Do you really want to be a rock star when you grow up? My mother says they hardly ever take a bath," Emily said with a shudder.

  "Davey Rogers of the Pink Bubblegum rock band takes a bath," Maddie insisted. "I know 'cause I'm an official member of his fan club." Emily was a little bit prissy, but Maddie liked her because she was nice and shared her tiara. "I don't really have to be a rock star. I just want to be rich and go exciting places. I want to have adventures," she told her, then remembered her deepest wish of all. "And never get grounded again."

  "I would go crazy if my mom made me stay in my yard as much as yours does," Jenna Jean said, swiveling her bar stool around as she stood on it. "It seems like you're always getting into trouble."

  Maddie got a yucky feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes she wondered what was wrong with her. Neither of her friends got grounded as often as she did. "I don't do anything that terrible."

  She watched Jenna Jean swivel the chair again and thought about asking her to stop. Jenna Jean was a show-off, and Maddie's mother didn't like it when they stood on the bar stools.

  "Nope," Jenna Jean said. "You know what your problem is."

  "What?"

  "You get caught."

  The yucky feeling in her stomach got worse. Jenna Jean was a whole year older, and she was very smart. She even got As in Math. Maddie got Cs.

  "Maybe," she admitted. "Maybe I'm just bad." Maddie didn't like to think about how often she got grounded. Hands on her hips, she turned to her friends. "Come on. While my mom's gone, let's practice this song again and pretend we're singing at the coliseum downtown."

  She dropped the needle on the record and scrambled on top of the chair again. Her hands poised to strum the badminton racket, her mouth open and ready to sing, she watched her mother enter the basement.

  Maddie froze in horror.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jenna Jean and Emily scramble off their stools, but Maddie couldn't seem to move her feet as her mother took in the scene with a disapproving expression.

  "Young lady," her mother said, and Maddie sighed. Whenever her mother called her young lady, she was grounded.

  "What are you doing standing on that bar stool? I've told you a dozen times not to stand on the bar stools. What if you or your friends got hurt?" She shook her finger at Maddie. "You've had your warning, now…"

  Maddie glanced at Jenna Jean as her mother went on with her lecture. Caught again.

  * * *

  One

  « ^ »

  Maddie stared outside her car window. The same sight greeted her from all sides. Cars. Stopped cars.

  She was in the middle of a traffic jam on Highway 81.

  Caught again.

  This sort of thing didn't happen in Roanoke, Virginia. The population wasn't dense enough to create a traffic problem, especially not on the highway. According to the radio, however, a sinkhole had given way smack dab in the middle lane, causing expected delays of up to two hours.

  It might have been okay if she were in the right-hand lane and could use the curb to reach her destination, but she was in the middle lane. It wasn't as if she was in a rush to get to her job as a travel agent. She had taken the day off. It wasn't as if she had a pressing dinner date either. She hadn't been on a dinner date in about nine months.

  Her problem was the rhythmic tightening of the muscles in her back and abdomen, slowly building, then peaking. More discomfort than pain, the tightening occurred every five minutes. Maddie kept telling herself the feeling would go away, but she suspected she was in labor. In the middle of the only traffic jam in the history of Roanoke, Virginia. In the rain. With no car phone.

  Her stomach growled, and she wished for the fortieth time that she'd brought some cookies in the car with her. Another contraction hit, this one requiring the use of a breathing technique. Maddie visualized Maui, beautiful water, palm trees, rainbows. If she were in Maui, she would be sipping a Mai Tai. God knows, she could use something with liquor in it right now.

  A thread of panic raced through her. She really didn't want to have her baby in the middle of a highway. Turning on her windshield wipers, she searched desperately for a patrol car. This was one time she would gladly face a policeman. Unfortunately none were around.

  Desperation sank in. Maybe she should get out and walk. But hadn't her natural-childbirth instructor said that walking hurried labor along? What if she didn't make it far enough to find a ride to the hospital?

  Through the light rain she spotted a pickup truck with a motorcycle covered in plastic in its bed. An insane idea struck her. Insane as it seemed, was it any crazier than delivering a baby in her car by herself?

  Going with her instincts, Maddie awkwardly got out of her green convertible and waddled past two cars to the driver's window of the truck. She knocked on the foggy window.

  The man inside turned his head to stare at her.

  She smiled.

  He didn't.

  Maddie sighed and motioned for him to roll down his window.

  "Yes?" he asked in a voice that sent a shiver down her spine. His radio played a heavy metal song, and it appeared there was someone in the passenger seat, but she couldn't be sure.

  Maddie looked at the man and bit her lip. Though he was seated, he looked big and forbidding, and about as flexible as steel. His eyes were cool gray, his face angular and chiseled. Her longtime friend Jenna Jean was always telling Maddie that she jumped to conclusions about people, but this man didn't look friendly. He didn't look like he had much of a sense of humor. Under other circumstances she would turn around and go back to her car. The only thing she needed more than a sense of humor right no
w, though, was this man's motorcycle.

  "I—uh—" Another contraction hit, and she held up her hand. "Just a minute, please," she whispered, and focused on the door handle. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

  Alarm cracked his features. "What in—"

  With an effort she straightened after the peak. "Does the motorcycle in the back of your truck work?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "I know this is unusual," she said in a rush, because she wanted to voice her request before another contraction hit. "But I'm in labor and I need to get to a hospital before—"

  A gush of water spilled down her legs. Maddie stared at her drenched tennis shoes. "Oh, damn."

  "Damn?"

  "My water broke," she said, and met his wary gaze. Maybe he was human after all. When he wasn't glaring, he was almost attractive. She reassessed him. At second glance, he still looked a bit grim, but responsible, she thought hopefully. The strength stamped across his features appealed to her. And with those shoulders, she'd bet he had a killer body. In other circumstances she might have— Maddie looked at her watermelon stomach and dismissed the thought. "Can I borrow your motorcycle, please?"

  The radio volume lowered. "Dad, who's standing outside—" The younger male voice abruptly stopped. "It's a pregnant lady," he said, his voice cracking in adolescent surprise.

  Dad didn't answer his son's question. In one swift motion he was out of the car, staring down at Maddie. "Let me get this straight. You want me to take you to the hospital on a motorcycle?"

  She nodded and covered her abdomen protectively. "I don't think I have much choice. I don't want to have this baby on Highway 81." When he didn't immediately respond, she felt a slice of panic. What if he didn't help her? She clasped her fingers together. "Listen, I don't have a lot of money, but you can have it." He shook his head. "I'm a travel agent. Maybe I could arrange a free trip for you. Or I can cook," she said, feeling desperation thicken her throat. "I'll cook you a dinner a week for a year if you'll just—"

  Another contraction hit, and the pain made her double over. In the middle of it she heard some tersely worded instructions. By the time the pain passed, the motorcycle was out of the truck, and the son had slid over to the driver's seat. Fighting tears of relief, Maddie gave the wide-eyed teenage boy a weak smile.

  "Miss—" the man began awkwardly.

  "Maddie, Maddie Palmer," she told him, extending her hand.

  His large, warm hand swallowed hers. "Joshua Blackwell," he said, his face tight with concern. "Can you make it to the side of the road?"

  She nodded. "Yes, thank you so much."

  Joshua walked behind her. "Save your thank-yous for when you get to the hospital," he muttered, carefully placing a helmet on her head, then another on his, before he mounted the bike.

  Maddie shot the motorcycle a doubtful look and gingerly straddled it. Motorcycles were not designed for pregnant women. Biting her lip, she stretched her arms around her bulk to his waist and held on tight.

  "Are you on?"

  "Yes," she whispered, wrestling with another contraction.

  "How far apart are they?"

  Maddie waited until the pain passed. "Under four minutes."

  "Great," he muttered. "All I want you to do is hold on. I'm gonna move as quick and easy as I can. When you feel a contraction coming on, squeeze me, yell at me, kick me—just let me know."

  Her opinion of Joshua rose ten feet. He was strong. He was practical. Most importantly, he was there. "Okay."

  He nodded shortly and started the motor. "Let's go."

  * * *

  They made it to the hospital in seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds. Joshua was counting. It must have been a helluva ride for Maddie. By the time they arrived, her face was pinched and drawn. She practically fell off the bike. The ER crew helped her into a wheelchair and took her up to delivery, shouting instructions at Joshua to follow.

  He'd never been one to blindly follow instructions, but this time he did. Driving a red-haired pregnant lady to the hospital set his adrenaline humming. He washed up, dressed in a sterile paper coverall and was directed to the birthing room.

  "Hi," she said, her voice laced with relief as he walked through the door. "They say my o.b. doctor won't get here in time."

  He frowned. "What about your husband?"

  "I don't have one," she said, and looked away.

  Joshua took a long look at her. Her face pale against the drab hospital gown, she looked young and scared. Aside from the massive bulk at her midriff, her body was small-boned and delicate. He felt a strange wave of protectiveness, and despite the odd circumstances, assessed her again. Her breasts were full, her legs shapely. He couldn't venture a guess about her hips, since they weren't visible. But he would guess she was usually slim.

  Freckles on her nose, wary curiosity in her brown eyes, she watched him watching her. The tilt of her chin told him she was a fighter. Something about her mouth told him she was a woman of passion, and Joshua felt a flicker of curiosity.

  "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," she told him.

  Struck by a rare moment of indecision, Joshua stifled a curse when Maddie closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply.

  Her face crinkled in pain and she shook her head. "I need to push. Go get the nur— No!" she choked out and reached for him when he turned. "Stay."

  He let her grab on to his hand. For a small woman, she squeezed him tighter than a vise grip. "Pant," he told her, dimly recalling his experience with the birth of his son sixteen years ago. "Pant."

  Wonder of wonders, Maddie complied, panting until the urge to push passed. When Joshua tried to withdraw his hand, she shook her head, her eyes wide with fear.

  His heart twisted, the sensation strange, nearly forgotten. "I'll be back in less than thirty seconds. I promise."

  Her gaze meshed with his, and he saw the second she trusted him. It gave him a rush, but he shook it off. He would have to think about that later. A baby was waiting to be born.

  True to his word, Joshua returned swiftly, with a nurse in tow. Everything happened quickly after the nurse examined Maddie. "Don't push. You'll tear. I'll find the doctor."

  "Where is he?" Maddie demanded. "Drinking coffee and eating donuts. I swear, men are never around when you need them."

  Talking more to herself than anyone else, she grimaced as another contraction hit, cursing all of mankind. "You wouldn't think one little hole in—a—condom—" She broke off and sobbed. "Could-cause-this-much-pain," she finished in a rush.

  "Maui," she murmured to herself. "S'posed to visualize something pleasant. Maui. If I were in Maui, I'd be snorkeling off of Molokini. I'd be—" She stopped and screamed. "Where is the doctor?"

  Joshua took her hand and held it even when her nails bit into his skin. The doctor finally appeared, and Maddie pushed for twenty-three tense minutes before her squalling baby boy made his appearance. The nurse wrapped the baby and laid him on Maddie's chest.

  "He's beautiful," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He's just beautiful." She touched his pointy bald head and smoothed his crumpled ears. "You were in a hurry, weren't you?" she cooed.

  The moment was so intimate it was hard for Joshua to watch. Suddenly feeling superfluous, he swiped the perspiration from his forehead and thought about making his exit.

  The movement must have caught her attention. Maddie glanced up at him. Sniffing loudly, she smiled through her tears. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

  Joshua looked at the baby and twisted his mouth. "Yeah, he's something else."

  "Want to hold him?"

  Nonplussed, he hesitated.

  "Go ahead," she urged, tilting the bundle toward him.

  Joshua moved forward and gingerly took the baby in his arms. So small, so fragile, but so alive. He looked at the little human being staring back at him. The baby waved his fist in the air.

  Joshua thought of Patrick. He'd always done his best for his son in his wife's absence, but during the long year
s of his struggle to do the right thing, something inside him had just died. Despite his best efforts, he knew Patrick had needed something from him that he just couldn't give. So it was with a great sense of shock, that after twelve years out in the cold, Joshua felt a rush of warmth. The sensation was so unfamiliar he didn't know what to do with it.

  A nurse rushed into the room. "Ms. Palmer, the people you asked us to notify are in the waiting room and are quite insistent about seeing you. Mr. Benjamin Palmer—"

  "My brother," Maddie said. "And I'll bet the other is Jenna Jean."

  "Ms. Jenna Anderson," the nurse said.

  "Tell them I'll see them in a few minutes and," she added, a trace of mischief mingling with the weary joy in her eyes. "Tell them I had quintuplets."

  The nurse's jaw dropped, and she glanced at the baby in Joshua's arms. "Pardon me."

  "It's just for fun," Maddie said. "They've agreed to be the godparents." She chuckled, then looked up at Joshua and the baby. Her eyes softened. "Bet when you woke up this morning you had no idea you'd be rescuing a pregnant lady from a sinkhole and helping deliver a baby."

  "Can't say I did," he said, thinking she had more exuberance in her little finger than he had in his entire body. He felt the sting of envy and unwilling attraction. The double pop of unfamiliar emotion unsettled him. "Here he is," Joshua said, bending to return the baby to Maddie.

  She held the baby against her chest in a natural maternal way. In a move just as natural, she extended one hand and urged Joshua closer. "Come here," she said, and surprised the hell out of him by kissing him right next to his mouth. "Thanks. You were a hero today."

  He stared into her warm gaze and felt a weird shift inside him. Blinking, he backed away and cleared his throat. "No problem," he muttered. "I should go. You take care of the kid. And take care of you, too," he said, feeling a grudging acceptance that he was walking out of Maddie Palmer's life.

  * * *

  Joshua didn't remember the exact day he'd stopped dreaming. He just knew he hadn't dreamed during his sleep in years.