She's Having a Baby by Marie Ferrarella

Author:Marie Ferrarella
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2005-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

The conversation for the next two hours continued in the same nebulous, scattered way. Quade found himself growing progressively more entertained and amused. The annoyance he’d wrapped around himself as almost a shield was dissipating and fading.

He had no idea what to make of it, only that he felt naked.

At one point, he turned around after receiving no answer to one of his very few questions. MacKenzie had suddenly turned a very translucent shade of white. Rather than set it down somewhere, he dropped his roller to the newspaper-covered floor and hurried over to her.

“What’s the matter?”

The room was spinning and she had no idea why. All she knew was that she wasn’t going to faint like some stereotypical pregnant woman. That would have been too unreal.

Yet she was having trouble hanging on to her surroundings. An encroaching blackness was threatening to swallow everything up. She was aware of his hands around her, forcing her to the floor.

A wolf in research physician’s clothing? Had she made a stupid mistake, trusting him?

She struggled to sit up, feeling weak. It took no effort to keep her down.

“Lie still, damn it.”

“You’re going to have to improve your foreplay,” she said with effort.

“Foreplay?” The situation was worse than he thought. The woman was delirious. Had the paint fumes gotten to her? But the window was open. It made no sense—and neither did she.

He felt her pulse. It was beating like a percussion soloist. “Do you want to go to the emergency room?”

His words were coming to her from some distance. She struggled to get closer to them and farther from the abyss.

“You’re a doctor… Doctor me….”

“Delirious,” he pronounced out loud.

“Air,” she told him, grasping onto consciousness and holding on for all she was worth. “I just need some air. Paint fumes—”

He’d breathed in the same paint and felt nothing except for a small, vague headache behind his eyes. But then, he knew that people reacted differently to the same stimulus. He did as she asked, crossing to the large bay window that looked out on the courtyard and pushed it all the way open instead of just partially. A cool breeze immediately pushed its way in, its long, thin probing fingers moving everywhere.

She took a deep breath. The darkness around her receded as if it had never existed. She started to sit up, only to find that he was still pushing her back down.

“Quade, I can’t just lie here like a strange conversation piece. You’re going to have to let me sit up sometime.”

He frowned, taking her pulse again. It had settled down considerably. And her color was returning. He sat back on his heels. “What the hell was that all about?”

There was no way she was going to tell him the truth. Instead, she clung to her story. “I already told you, it had to be the paint fumes.”

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home,” he offered.

“I’m fine now,” she insisted. “And there’s not that much left to do.”

“Good, then I can finish it myself.”

“And rob me of the pleasure of looking at a job well done? I don’t think so.

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