changed of course. Grown older and…harder somehow. Inside and out, she decided after a good long look at the set of his jaw. Certainly he was more physically powerful, which surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. Luke had always been very strong. Growing up on horseback had given him incredible power in his legs, especially his thighs and buttocks. Twenty-two years had added breadth to his shoulders and packed hard muscle onto his chest and arms.
The glossy black hair that had always smelled of wind and baby shampoo was now liberally threaded with silver. For such thick hair it had been surprisingly silky. Though shorter now, it still fell into a rebellious off-center part where a cowlick defied taming.
The too-handsome face she’d never quite managed to purge from her mind for all her years of trying was now all hard lines and stark angles. The mouth that had thrilled her every time he’d slanted her a lopsided shy-at-the-edges grin was controlled now and bracketed by deeply gouged creases. His eyes, Paul Newman blue and once full of the devil, were somber now, even guarded, with the war-weary look of a man who’d left innocence behind long ago.
Unfortunately, however, the aura of raw masculinity that had both exhilarated and frightened her was as potent as ever. More so, she realized with a hard thud in the vicinity of her still-queasy stomach. Buried somewhere in this quiet-spoken professional with a calm manner and a way of looking directly into her eyes was the first man she’d ever loved.
As a high-school guidance counselor, she’d seen parts of herself in every girl who’d sat across from her, bewildered and scared and hurt because she’d trusted her heart to the wrong boy. Ancient history, she reminded herself as he turned back another page with a large heavily veined hand and continued reading. Being here wasn’t personal, nor was it really a choice.
Instinctively she pressed her hand against her stomach, a gesture she’d repeated many times since Doc had given her the astonishing news. The reminiscent smile that started to bloom died as those amazing blue eyes shifted to capture hers, sending what felt like a white-hot shiver all the way to her womb. Only years of rigid self-control kept her from flinching.
“According to this, you were already nine weeks along when you consulted Morrow.” Though soft-spoken, his voice had a gritty quality that had her tensing all the way to the bone.
“Yes, that’s right.” She kept her voice calm and even, the exact tone she used when soothing angry parents or troubled adolescents. “My periods have always been erratic, and they got worse after that C-section. Doc had told me not to worry, so I didn’t, but when I started having other symptoms, I decided to have a thorough checkup.”
“Other symptoms?”
“A thickening in my waistline and tenderness in my breasts.” To her dismay she actually blushed. He glanced down quickly, his gaze running over the page again before he closed the folder.
“Why did you wait so long to consult me?”
“Doc wasn’t concerned until he sent me for this latest ultrasound.”
Luke’s mouth compressed, giving his face an even tougher texture. Behind the thin dark rims of his glasses, his blue eyes had taken on flecks of steel. “You’re an intelligent woman, Madelyn. It’s obvious you want this child. My question is, why did you trust yourself to the same doctor who in your last pregnancy misdiagnosed preeclampsia as indigestion?”
“It’s easy to diagnose after the fact,” she replied, her voice sharper than was fitting for a well-bred Southern lady. “But in those days Doc was the only doctor in the county, and he’d been run ragged by an outbreak of chicken pox.” She took a breath, hating the painful memories her words had stirred. “I was lucky to have him, especially since my daddy had no money and no insurance. Without Doc’s compassion and generosity I would have had to drive 150 miles to the charity hospital in El Paso for my checkups. And God only knows what would have happened when I hemorrhaged.”
His jaw went white. “Maddy—”
“No, let’s get this all out, Luke.” She sat straighter and kept her gaze on his. “You’re the last person I want to need in my life. I couldn’t sleep for two nights before I made the decision to ask for your help. Just being in the same room with you brings up memories I’ve worked hard to erase. But I want this baby more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I’ll do whatever it takes to give him or her the best possible chance.”
He studied her thoughtfully, then frowned. “Maddy—Madelyn—I can’t treat you without touching you.”
“I realize that.” She drew a breath. That had been the worst of it, coming to terms with the enforced intimacy that childbirth imposed on doctor and patient. “I also realize that in all aspects but one we’re strangers to each other, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to maintain a strictly professional relationship.”
“You’re the mother of my only child, Madelyn. I would have married you if you’d said yes. I can never think of you as a stranger.”
Something barbed twisted around her heart. “We don’t have a child, Luke. She belongs to someone else, thanks to you. To survive I had to accept that. Just as I had to accept responsibility for mistaking sexual attraction for love. I know the difference now.”
His jaw tightened for the briefest of moments before he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. His sigh was heavy as he lowered his hand. “Tell you what, you get yourself out of that fetching suit that’s got my staff green with envy and into that paper gown yonder while I go see if I can scare up some professional detachment.” He left before she had a chance to reply.
After asking Esther to prepare Maddy for a thorough exam, Luke went into his office and shut the door. Though he had other patients waiting, he needed a minute for himself.
He felt as though he was strangling, and his back was threatening to seize up again. Beneath his shirt and starched coat, his skin was slick with sweat, and his knees were as wobbly as a newborn colt’s.
Heckfire, he was a freaking basket case here, he thought as he eased his aching body into the chair behind his cluttered desk, tossed his glasses on top of the latest Physician’s Drug Reference and slumped back against the cool leather upholstery.
God only knew how much he wanted to help her, he thought, letting his head fall back. Anything he had that she needed, it was hers. If she wanted money, he’d beggar himself. If she needed a place to stay, he’d buy her a frigging mansion. Transportation? No sweat. A call to his friendly BMW dealer and the keys to a new Beemer would be in her hands within the hour.
With a long-drawn-out groan that sounded depressingly like a whimper, he raked both hands through his hair, then balled them into fists on the arms of his chair. Damn, but this was pure misery. As rough as it was on him, however, it had to be about a million times worse for her.
He’d known right off she had a healthy amount of grit. It had been there in the rigid angle of her head when she’d looked at him, and in the straight line of her back as she’d perched there on the edge of the table, a lady from the top of her shiny head to the toes of those city-lady shoes.
Asking for help from a man she’d sworn to hate had cost her. A woman with her spirit and class, ready to humble herself.
Because she loved the child she carried. Loved it as she’d loved their daughter.
Damn, but he admired her. Flat out respected the hell out of her. It was clear as glass
