Kate Thomas - Daddy By Design?

Trey stood up. “I do. And thank you, Dr. Butler.”

She stood along with him. “You’re welcome. I’ve got to go. The pediatrician is checking the baby over, so I’m going to attend that. I’ll turn you over to Peg’s tender mercies, and she’ll take you to Cinda’s suite.” With that, the doctor strode confidently across the room and out the door.

Arching an eyebrow, Trey eyed Peg. “Lead on. I’d follow you anywhere.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hmph. My first husband was a Southerner. Biggest mistake I ever made. North/South marriages never work.” She spun around, heading for the same double doors, obviously expecting Trey to follow her, which he wisely did. “So don’t you try any of your silver-tongued-devil charm on me because it won’t work, Mister Kiss My Grits. Besides, I’m a married woman again.”

Trey grinned at the short woman’s broad back and stocky legs. “Yes, ma’am. Just tell me this, please. Why are the good ones always taken?”

Over her shoulder, she said, “They’re not. At least, Mrs. Cavanaugh isn’t.”

COVERED BY BLANKETS, pale and breathing shallowly, Cinda Cavanaugh lay on her back. Her eyes were closed. Faint purple shadows formed half-moon crescents under her eyes. She was still dressed in an unflattering hospital gown that did nothing, in Trey’s opinion, to detract from her blond, patrician good looks. There was an IV needle stuck in her arm. A bag of so-labeled glucose hanging from a hook on its wheeled stand slowly dripped the fluid into her system. On her other side, some kind of vital-signs-monitoring machine crouched protectively, ticking and beeping away.

Believing her to be asleep, Trey sat quietly beside the bed, which was the centerpiece in a posh and elegant suite. Well, she had said her husband was a millionaire. Her late husband, he amended, recalling Peg’s parting words. He smiled. Not once had Peg or Dr. Butler asked him if he was “taken.” Maybe he gave off “single” vibes accompanied by visible-only-to-females blinking neon arrows that pointed to him.

Just then, Cinda opened her eyes and rolled her head. She caught sight of him. A weak but warm smile came to her generous mouth. She blinked and ran the tip of her tongue over her pink lips. “Hey, you’re here,” she said, her voice sounding scratchy. “Look at you. You could be a doctor.”

A thrill chased through Trey…at her smile for him, at her wanting him to be here. He looked down at the hospital greens he still wore and tugged the hair net off his head. “What? These old things? They were just hanging in the closet.”

Cinda managed another smile, this one warmer and saying more than her words. “I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Trey Cooper.”

His heart fairly leaping now, and more affected than he was willing to admit—he really had to get away from this woman before it was too late to escape—Trey leaned forward. “I’m glad you’re glad.” Then he didn’t know what to say. The silence grew thick. Finally he remembered Peg’s parting orders. “Hey, you want some water or something? The nurse said you should drink if you woke up.”

Cinda’s chuckle instantly became a grimace of pain. She shifted cautiously about in the bed, putting a hand to her much flatter belly. “Ow,” was her first comment. Then, after another moment, she said, “I was laughing—or trying to—about the medical confirmation that I should drink. In that case, you got any gin you can put in the water?”

Even now she was witty. Trey liked that. He snapped his fingers. “Darn. I knew I forgot something. You want me to run out and get you a six-pack of beer or a nice wine in a paper bag?”

She offered him a quick grin, then became more sober. “Listen, I really am glad you’re here. I was afraid you might have left. I wanted to thank you for everything. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“It was nothing.” Trey was as uncomfortable as he was pleased. This woman troubled him. She could make him want something he could never have. He stood up and went to the pitcher of ice water that sat on the bedside tray, grabbed up the plastic cup, and poured the water into it. He stuck the bendy straw into the cup and handed it to her. “Here you go,” he said cheerfully…too cheerfully.

He watched her take tiny sips of the cold water and swallow. After a moment, he felt compelled to speak again. “You don’t have to thank me, Cinda. I did what anybody would do, which really wasn’t anything, if you’ll think about it. So please don’t read more into it than that.”

Cinda’s caramel-gold eyes…such unusual coloring…met his gaze and held. In the next few silent seconds she seemed to read his mind. It was as if she could see his hesitation, his wariness of her…his reluctance to become involved with an uptown girl. A wounded smile tilted her lips. She handed him the water cup and rested her hands against her stomach.

As he set the cup down on the table next to her bed, she said, “You’re right, of course. Still, I’m grateful for your presence in that elevator, if nothing else. But it could have been a lot worse for me and my baby and you. Had it been, I…well, let me put it this way—if I’m ever stuck on a deserted island, I now know who I’d want to be stranded with.”

Trey allowed himself a grin. “Thanks for that. You’re a great lady. And a new mother. Congratulations.” She beamed a smile his way, making his heart flutter. He looked around the hospital room. “I guess I could have gotten you some flowers or something. Or a stuffed animal for the baby. But Peg wouldn’t allow any detours on the way here.”

She frowned. “Peg?”

“She’s a nurse. And a drill sergeant in a former life. All I can say is do everything she tells you to. Even if it hurts.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

The moment to leave was here.

“Well,” Trey said, “I’ve got to go. And I’m sure you can do with some sleep. Again, it was…” He was dying inside and couldn’t seem to look away from the “please-don’t-go” look in her eyes. “It was nice to meet you. I won’t ever be able to get into an elevator again without thinking of you and Otis and Wonder Purse.”

She blinked and lowered her gaze. When she again met his eyes, her expression was controlled. She lifted a hand and held it out to him. Trey took a deep breath, hating the leave-taking, hating the staying, and then clasped her warm, long fingers in his hand. He had to fight the urge to raise her soft hand to his lips.

“Trey,” she said, somehow giving his nickname a depth it had never before possessed, “Thank you. I owe you one, as they say. A big one. You won’t ever be able to convince me that you did anything less than save my life and my baby’s. I really wish you’d tell me how I can repay you.”

He released her hand before things progressed to the point where he wouldn’t let go because he couldn’t. In his mind’s eye, he saw Nurse Peg wielding a scalpel to cut him away from this fabulous woman. “Repay me, huh? Well, I suppose that maybe one day you could save my life. That’d be a fair trade.”

Cinda surprised him by saying, “You’ve got a deal. Hand me that notepad and the pen there on the table, please. I want to give you my phone number. One day when you need me, you can call.”

Though he really didn’t think he should, Trey did as she asked and waited while she wrote down her number. Striving to keep things light, he remarked, “Will you just look at what’s happening here? I swear, all those nights I’ve wasted in bars. I never once thought to cruise a maternity ward looking to pick up chicks. And now here’s a gorgeous one giving me her number.”

Shaking her head and, grinning, Cinda folded the piece of paper and handed it to him. “You Southern gentlemen will be the death of me one day. I swear, how anyone could think I could be gorgeous at this moment is beyond me.”