dull with hopelessness, desperation and sadness, but life hadn’t emptied this girl’s eyes—they blazed with defiance.
Up close, their unusual color intrigued him. A light golden brown, they held flecks of green that made them seem to change with the light. They reminded him of the eyes of a cougar he had seen in the zoo. Aloof, watchful, wary. Only now, raw fear lurked in their depths.
Come on, Eddy, don’t let me down. Get that ambulance here.
Struggling to hide his concerns, Mick searched for a way to establish a rapport and put her at ease. “Have you got a name picked out for your baby?”
“No. I thought I had plenty of time.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I’ve got names picked out for my kids, and I’m not even married yet.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Goody for you.”
“A kid’s name is important. It’s something you should give a lot of thought. Not that you haven’t—or wouldn’t—I mean,” he murmured as he ducked his head.
Caitlin couldn’t believe it. This grown man, as big as a house, and probably twenty-five years old was blushing. His neck grew almost as red as his hair. It was sweet, really.
What could she say to someone about to deliver her baby? Things were going to get intimate. Maybe soon. She felt the beginnings of another contraction and reached for his hand. His large fingers engulfed her small ones. Strength and reassurance seem to flow from him into her, easing her fear. Focusing on his face, she followed his instructions to breathe in and blow out. The pain did seem more bearable.
As the contraction faded, she realized he still held her hand. She pulled away and drew his jacket close, relishing the warmth and comforting scent of leather and masculine cologne. The quiet of the old building pressed in around them.
“So, tell me what names you got picked out,” she said at last. “Maybe I’ll use one.”
He smiled. “For a boy, it’ll be William Perry.”
“Willie Perry Williams.” She tried the name out but shook her head. “Not a chance. Why would you do that to a kid?”
“Are you joking? William ‘The Refrigerator’ Perry was the greatest football player in the history of the Chicago Bears.”
Her husband had liked football. The thought of Vinnie sent a stab of regret through her heart. He would never see his son or daughter. How she had hoped that he would give up his wild ways once he knew they were having a baby. He hadn’t. A high-speed chase while trying to outrun the police ended his life when his car veered off the highway and struck a tree. His death that night had started her down the painful path that led to her current desperate situation.
Within days she had discovered that Vinnie had been gambling away the rent money she worked so hard to earn. The landlord didn’t want to hear her sob story. He wanted his money. Three months of unpaid rent was more than she could come up with. She was evicted the day after her husband’s funeral. With no money and nowhere to go, she soon found herself living on the streets. The one place she swore she’d never go back to.
She took a close look at her rescuer. Was he the same kind of man? One who would drink and gamble and then lie to his pregnant wife about it? She didn’t believe that. Not a guy who liked kids as much as he did.
Managing a little smile, she said, “You don’t plan on naming a girl after a football player, do you?”
“No,” he answered quietly. “I’ll name her after my mother. Elizabeth Anne O’Callaghan.”
Amazing! If this guy was any sweeter, he’d rival a candy bar.
Another contraction hit, and his hand found hers. “You got it, that’s it. Breathe,” he coaxed. “Breathe, breathe. You’re doing great.”
She curled onto her side and focused on his singsong voice. With his free hand, he began to rub her lower back in slow circles. Okay, she thought, a sweet guy is a good thing to have around just now.
“Is there someone I can call once we get to the hospital?” he asked. “Family? The baby’s father?”
She shook her head. “Vinnie, my husband, he’s dead. There’s nobody.”
“I’m sorry.”
She bristled at the pity in his voice. Normally, she would have ignored it, but now she couldn’t seem to control the emotions that flared in her.
“I don’t need your pity. I’ve had a little bad luck, that’s all.” She raised up on her elbow to glare at him. “I’ll be on my feet again in no time and a lot better off than I was before.”
Holding up one hand, he said, “Chill, lady. I wasn’t feeling sorry for you.”
“You’d better not. I can take care of myself. And I can take care of my baby, too.”
“In here?” He gestured around the room. The broken window let the wind in, and strips of dingy wallpaper peeling from the stained plaster waved in the breeze that carried the smells of mildew and rotting wood.
“Lady, I’ve seen kids living in places like this covered with rat bites and worse. If you think you can go it alone, you’re crazy. There’s a system to help if you’ll use it.”
“Why do you care? You want to name your little girl after your mother, right? You know what I remember about dear old Mom? On my fifth birthday she gave me a Twinkie with a candle in it. Then she left me inside a Dumpster for two days because she was too strung out to remember where she’d put me to keep me quiet while some new boyfriend supplied her habit. Your precious system moved me from one foster home to another when it wasn’t giving me back to Mom so she could have another go at me. By the time I was sixteen, I’d figured out living in a back alley was a better deal. Your system isn’t going to get its hands on my baby. I’ll make sure of that.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to hold back a scream as the pain overwhelmed her.
“Okay, you’ve had it rough,” he said gently. “Show me one kid down at the shelter that hasn’t. But, if Child Welfare finds out this is where you’re living, do you think they’re going to let you bring a baby here? I’m just saying stay at a shelter until you find something better. It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s the baby.”
Everyone who’d ever shown her compassion had had their own agenda in mind. Why did she think this guy was any different? Why did she find herself believing he really did care?
“How come you’re so concerned about someone else’s kid?”
He stared out the broken window for a long moment without speaking, then he looked at her and said, “Maybe because I can’t have kids of my own.”
She frowned. “I don’t get it. What about the names?”
The smile he tried for was edged with sadness. “If I ever marry, I’ll adopt children.”
“You look healthy to me,” she said, giving him the once-over. “What’s wrong with you?”
He hesitated, then
