up something that made her miscarry?
He wasn’t sure when he’d started hoping she was pregnant, but he had. Hell, he wasn’t getting any younger. At thirty-four a man needed to start thinking about settling down and having a few kids.
Chance glanced at his wife. She wasn’t his type of woman. He’d always pictured himself with a country gal—a woman who at least knew the difference between a bull and a steer. A woman he could rely on.
But fate had stepped in and matched him up with the exact opposite of what he’d always thought he wanted. Fate had paired him up with a city gal. He frowned. A woman with the same type of background as his own mother’s.
He cut Kristen a sideways glance. One thing about it, though. She might not be his choice for the job, but they sure would make pretty babies together. The thought of how they’d get those babies made the region below his belt stir. It was a shame they wouldn’t stay married to make more than the one they’d probably conceived last night.
When the man next to Kristen coughed again, Chance planted his hands on the arms of the chair and levered himself to his feet. “Trade places with me, Kristen.”
“Why?”
He might have known she’d be stubborn about it. “Just do it, okay?”
“Chance, I’m perfectly fine right where I am.”
He purposely narrowed his eyes and hoped his face showed more determination than worry. “If you haven’t moved by the time I count to three, I’ll pick you up and move you myself.”
She glared back at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me, sweetheart.” The guy next to her coughed for the third time. “One, two—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Giving him a look that might have wilted a lesser man, she rose from her chair to sit in the one Chance had just vacated. “Now are you satisfied?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
Relieved that she’d finally done as he asked, Chance seated himself between her and the man he was sure had something horribly contagious. Somewhere from behind them a small child sneezed, and Chance searched for a pair of empty chairs on the far side of the room. Every seat was taken.
Logically, he knew pregnant women faced this type of situation all the time. But Kristen wasn’t just any woman. She was his wife. Possibly pregnant with his baby. That made it personal. Real personal.
He wasn’t exactly comfortable with how much emotional investment he’d made in such a short time, but he wasn’t going to deny it, either. At least, not to himself. He might not have wanted a wife, but he’d always wanted to be a father.
A woman in a brightly colored smock stepped through the door at the back of the waiting area. “Kristen Lassiter.”
“It’s about damned time,” Chance muttered, bolting from the chair and pulling Kristen up with him.
When she swayed and leaned heavily against him, Chance glanced down to find that her face had bleached white as tissue paper. It was the same look she’d had back in the hotel just before she passed out. Without thinking twice, he scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the nurse.
“Second room on the right,” the woman said, hurrying to keep up with him.
Chance gently placed Kristen on the examining table in the room the woman indicated. Staring down at her, he noticed her pale cheeks were gaining more color, but her eyes remained closed. “Kristen, sweetheart, are you all right?”
“Go away,” she said through clenched teeth.
Her terse command made him feel a little better. At least she hadn’t lost her spunk.
The woman in the floral smock closed the door, then went over to sit at the desk on the far side of the room. Flipping open a metal chart, she asked, “What seems to be the problem, Ms. Lassiter?”
“Her last name’s Warren,” Chance told the nurse.
“But she registered under the name of Lassiter,” the woman said, frowning.
Chance looked at the name tag attached to the woman’s ample bosom. “We got married last night, Mary-Ann,” he said, using her first name and giving her a smile. “I guess it just takes a while for a woman to get used to her new last name.”
His friendly approach worked. Accepting his explanation, Mary-Ann smiled back. “Oh, yes. It took me months before I started thinking of myself by anything other than my maiden name.” She scribbled something on the chart, then came over to take Kristen’s blood pressure and pulse. “What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Warren?”
Kristen finally opened her eyes. “I have a sinus infection and—”
“She keeps fainting,” Chance explained, finishing for her. “She might be pregnant.”
If looks could kill, Chance figured he’d be a dead man in three seconds flat. The sparks flashing in Kristen’s eyes left no doubt how furious she was with him.
“Okay, I’ll make a note of that,” Mary-Ann said, taking Kristen’s temperature. The nurse wrote in the chart, then turned toward the door. “The doctor will be in shortly.”
The hushed click of the door closing behind the nurse seemed to revive Kristen. “Get out,” she ordered, sitting up and pointing to the now-closed door.
Chance stood his ground. “No.”
She made a kind of growling sound in the back of her throat that sounded as if she might just tear his head off and show it to him. “You have to be the most exasperating man on the face of the earth. Why did you tell that woman I might be pregnant?”
“It’s the truth,” he said reasonably. “And you wouldn’t have said anything about it.”
“Yes, I would.” She glared at him. “But you make it sound like a certainty. How many times do I have to tell you, the possibility is so remote, it’s not really worth considering?”
Before he could argue the point further, the door swung open and a tall gray-haired gentleman in a white lab coat walked into the room. He shook hands with Chance, then Kristen. “I’m Dr. Brayfield. I hear you aren’t feeling well, Mrs. Warren. What seems to be the problem?”
“Before I left Dallas, I was diagnosed with a sinus infection,” Kristen said, her gaze warning Chance to keep quiet. “I’ve been taking medication for it.”
“I see here you might be pregnant,” the doctor said, glancing at the metal chart he’d retrieved from the pocket on the door. “We’ll do a pregnancy test—”
“No,” Kristen said. “It won’t be necessary.”
“Yes, it is,” Chance said at the same time.
Dr. Brayfield glanced up over the top of his half glasses, his look questioning.
“We got married last night,” Chance explained. One look at Kristen told him he’d better
