The Paramedic's Unexpected Hero

by Alison Roberts

  Can this maverick midwife...

  ...be her knight—in shining leathers?

  Thrown together with motorbike-riding, leather-wearing midwife Ari Lawson, cautious paramedic Kelly Reynolds is immediately out of her comfort zone. But when they find their paths keep crossing, Kelly discovers she was too quick to judge, because beneath his bad-boy exterior, he’s dedicated, kind—and irresistible! Being around him makes her finally feel safe—and, dare she say, loved for the first time?

  Kelly could see him kicking his bike to life and starting to follow them before the ambulance reached the end of the street.

  She cleared her throat as she received acknowledgment from her radio handset that she’d been patched through to Kensington’s emergency department.

  “We’re coming to you with a thirty-seven-year-old woman—Vicky Tomkins,” she told them. “Pregnant, almost thirty weeks gestation, sudden onset of acute abdominal pain and bleeding approximately ninety minutes ago. Suspected placental abruption. We’ll be with you in about six minutes...”

  Another glance through the rear window showed Kelly that her ambulance SUV was right behind the ambulance. Just beyond the SUV was a large bike with a tall man in a dark leather jacket and a black helmet.

  Ari Lawson—the astonishingly different midwife who had unexpectedly dropped into her life less than an hour ago—was riding shotgun.

  For some inexplicable reason that she wasn’t going to allow any brain space to analyze, knowing he was close by was making Kelly feel safer. Protected, even.

  And it was a good feeling.

  Dear Reader,

  There are many things about writing—and reading—romance novels that I love. Perhaps the most important is the affirmation that love can be powerful enough to change people’s lives, to heal past hurts and to offer hope for the future.

  There are times we can all benefit from being reminded of the power of love. Not just romantic love but also the love within families, whether those families are biological or chosen (and I, for one, definitely include close friends as part of my chosen family).

  Ari, the hero in this story, knows about how strong the bonds within a foster family can be. And Kelly, like too many of us, has experienced an abusive relationship and the aftermath of discovering how hard it is to trust again.

  The magic of storytelling let me bring these two people together. I hope you end up feeling as misty as I did to see how love worked that amazing magic of its own on Ari and Kelly—and maybe one or two other people along the way...

  Happy reading!

  Alison xxx

  The Paramedic’s Unexpected Hero

  Alison Roberts

  Alison Roberts is a New Zealander, currently lucky enough to be living in the South of France. She is also lucky enough to write for the Harlequin Medical Romance line. A primary school teacher in a former life, she is now a qualified paramedic. She loves to travel and dance, drink champagne, and spend time with her daughter and her friends.

  Books by Alison Roberts

  Harlequin Medical Romance

  Medics, Sisters, Brides

  Awakening the Shy Nurse

  Saved by Their Miracle Baby

  Rescue Docs

  Resisting Her Rescue Doc

  Pregnant with Her Best Friend’s Baby

  Dr. Right for the Single Mom

  Hope Children’s Hospital

  Their Newborn Baby Gift

  Twins on Her Doorstep

  Melting the Trauma Doc’s Heart

  Single Dad in Her Stocking

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Praise for Alison Roberts

  “I read this in one sitting. This was such a heart-felt story. I loved the characters. The author really did a fantastic job.... I highly recommend this story to anyone. It was a real treat to read.”

  —Goodreads on Pregnant with Her Best Friend’s Baby

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM A RIVAL TO STEAL HER HEART BY ANNIE CLAYDON

  CHAPTER ONE

  OH, MAN...

  It was clearly going to be one of “those” days. Ari Lawson could hear the shouting as soon as he pulled his helmet off, having shut down the engine of his powerful motorbike and secured it on its stand. Checking the house numbers in this outer suburban London street confirmed that one of the people engaged in this heated argument was standing in the doorway of the address he’d been dispatched to but it definitely wasn’t the person he’d been asked to check up on. This was a belligerent man in his mid-thirties—about Ari’s age—who was waving his fist at the middle-aged woman from the next-door terraced house.

  ‘Mind your own bloody business,’ he was yelling.

  ‘It is my bloody business,’ the woman yelled back, ‘if you’re punching holes in walls that I’m on the other side of. I’ve called the police.’

  ‘As if they’ll listen to you, you daft old bat. They never have before.’

  Ari had lifted his kit from one of the panniers on the back of his bike. He walked towards the house.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ the man demanded. He looked Ari up and down, his expression disgusted. ‘Get lost, whoever you are. You’re not wanted here.’

  ‘I’m here to see a Vicky Tomkins. This is where she lives, yes?’

  ‘There you go.’ The next-door neighbour folded her arms across an ample chest. ‘Vicky’s called for help. ’Bout time, if you ask me.’

  ‘Nobody asked you,’ the man spat. ‘And she didn’t call anyone.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  Everybody turned instantly towards the woman now framed by the doorway behind the angry man. An obviously pregnant woman who was pale enough for alarm bells to start ringing for Ari.

  ‘I called my midwife,’ she said. ‘She said she couldn’t come but she’d find someone who could.’ But the younger woman was sounding hesitant now. ‘Another midwife...?’

  ‘That’s me,’ Ari confirmed. ‘Your midwife—Yvonne—is busy at the hospital in the middle of a delivery at the moment so she asked if I could come and see you. I’m a midwife, too.’

  The moment’s silence didn’t surprise him. Ari was quite used to people finding a male midwife an unusual concept. Add in the fact that he was well over six feet tall, wore a leather jacket to ride his motorbike and kept his shoulder-length hair up and out of the way in a man bun for work hours and the reaction from others could often be a lot more than bewilderment. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something like the raucous burst of laughter from the man in front of him.

  ‘You have got to be kidding me,’ he said. ‘A midwife? Well, you’re not getting anywhere near my wife, mate.’

  For the umpteenth time, Ari had to wonder why it was such an odd concept that the only appropriate male role in pregnancy or childbirth was that of an obstetrician. At least he was quite familiar with dealing with this kind of prejudice.

  ‘I think that decision is up to Vicky,’ he said calmly. ‘She’s the one who called for help.’ He caught her gaze and held it, doing his best to convey reassurance that she could trust him. ‘You’re experiencing some abdominal pain, yes?’

  She nodded. ‘And I’m ble
eding,’ she told him. She had a protective hand on her belly and her voice dropped to a shaky whisper. ‘Please... I’m scared...’

  The man wasn’t about to move but Ari was a head taller and he wasn’t about to let this client down. He knew she was less than thirty weeks pregnant and, if she was in pain and bleeding, she could be in real trouble. He could hear a siren not far away, which reminded him that he could well need to call for back-up sooner rather than later.

  ‘There you go.’ The neighbour sounded satisfied. ‘That’ll be the cops on their way and they’ll sort you out. I hope they lock you up this time.’

  Sirens were commonplace in any huge city and this area of London had more problems than many so Ari thought it unlikely that they would be responding to a minor disturbance like this, but Vicky’s husband was incensed, stepping sideways and raising his hands as well as his voice so that he could grab the fence railing between them and shake it. Ari used the opportunity to step closer to the person who had called for help.

  ‘Are you safe here?’ he asked quietly. ‘Or do I need to get you somewhere else to check what’s happening?’

  Vicky shook her head wearily. ‘He’ll settle down,’ she said. ‘He just gets wound up sometimes, you know?’ There was curiosity in her glance this time. ‘Are you really a midwife?’

  ‘I really am. But if you’re uncomfortable with that, it’s okay. I can refer you to hospital for an obstetric check.’

  ‘I don’t want to go in there. I’d have to wait for hours and I’m supposed to be working tonight. Ow...’ Vicky clutched at her belly with her whole arm as she bent forward. ‘Oh, that really hurts...’

  ‘Come and lie down somewhere.’ The sound of the siren was fading rapidly as Ari put a supporting arm around her shoulders. ‘Couch or bed—whatever’s easier. We need to find out what’s going on.’

  A very short time later, he ended his phone call, hoping that he would be hearing another siren from an emergency vehicle in the very near future—from the ambulance he had just summoned.

  * * *

  Paramedic Kelly Reynolds shut down the lights and siren on the rapid response vehicle she was driving as she approached the suburban address she’d been dispatched to. Parking directly behind a large motorbike, she jumped out of the driver’s seat to go to the back hatch of the SUV to collect the gear she might need, slipping her arms through the straps of the backpack that contained an extensive first-aid kit. One hand was then free to carry the life pack with its monitoring and defibrillation capabilities and Kelly took a deep breath as she took her first step across the road.

  As a rapid response paramedic it was her job to either arrive first to assess and stabilise what could be a serious case, or back up an ambulance crew that needed expert assistance. Sending an officer that worked alone—especially a female officer—into a potentially volatile situation was not ideal but when a call like this came in, it had to be the closest available vehicle that got dispatched and, this time, that had been Kelly.

  She wasn’t about to stand back and wait for the back-up of the ambulance that she had heard being dispatched at the same time she had received the Code Red, urgent priority callout, on her radio. Not when there was a pregnant woman and a midwife on scene who needed assistance. She just needed to remember her training. To keep a clear escape route behind her at all times and to carry a heavy bit of kit like the defibrillator in front of her so that, in the worst-case scenario, she could throw it at someone to make her escape easier.

  There was a woman leaning on an iron railing fence that separated her property from the house they’d been dispatched to.

  ‘’Bout time someone got here,’ she told Kelly, with satisfaction. ‘He’s kicking off again.’

  Kelly acknowledged the greeting with no more than a nod. She could hear a raised voice coming from inside the house so she walked past the neighbour and rapped on the open door.

  ‘Ambulance,’ she called loudly.

  The hallway was empty. The man’s angry voice was coming from a room to one side.

  ‘It’s her own bloody fault. I reckon she got pregnant on purpose. How do I even know the kid’s mine?’

  It was the cry of pain from a woman that made Kelly move, her hackles rising as she got closer to what turned out to be a living room. She held the heavy life pack in front of her body as she’d been trained to do—poised to hurl it if she found herself under attack. The angry man wasn’t making an assault on anyone, however. He had a can of beer in his hand and he was simply standing in the doorway to a kitchen. The woman who sounded as if she was in severe pain was lying on a couch and there was another man crouched beside her.

  An extraordinary-looking man, with olive brown skin and his hair pulled up into a bun that was a lot higher than the one Kelly always used to tidy her own hair for work. A lot messier, too. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket of all things but he had what looked like a professional medical kit open on the floor beside him with a stethoscope and blood-pressure cuff visible. And he was placing his hands on the woman’s pregnant belly. Large, capable-looking hands, she noticed, but even from this distance she could see—or sense—how gentle his touch was. Kelly wasn’t the only one watching.

  ‘Get ya hands off her,’ the man yelled. ‘Nobody touches my wife without my say so.’

  He lunged towards the couch but Kelly was faster as she stepped into the room at the same moment to get between him and the pregnant woman. He stopped in his tracks and swore vehemently but then backed off a little. He was a bully, Kelly realised, lowering the defibrillator. He might thrive on making threats but he was actually unlikely to follow through on them. Not that that made the abuse or interference with medical care any more acceptable, of course.

  ‘It’s not my fault,’ he muttered as he stepped back. ‘It’s that cow next door. She’s the one who’s causing all the trouble round here—not me. So we were having a bit of a barney...so what? Who doesn’t?’

  ‘What is happening here?’ Kelly only took her gaze off him for an instant because, while she thought she had the measure of this man, he was still clearly posing a threat. Her swift glance over her shoulder was long enough to see that the woman on the couch was looking distressed and far too pale. It was also long enough for the man who was crouched beside her to look up and meet her gaze.

  Dark, dark eyes. A serious expression on a very intelligent-looking face.

  ‘I’m Kelly,’ she introduced herself. ‘From the ambulance service.’ She was still a little confused about who this man was. ‘And you are...?’

  ‘He’s a midwife,’ the man in front of her sneered. ‘A boy midwife. And you’re a girly medic. Who let you out to play all by yourself? If you ask me, the world’s gone bloody mad...’ He crumpled his beer can, hurled it towards the corner of the room and then turned back towards the kitchen. ‘I need another drink...’

  Kelly ignored him, her gaze fixed on the midwife. She could sense that, beneath that calm expression, he was worried about his patient. Seriously worried.

  ‘I often work with the obstetric and neonatal flying squad,’ she told him. ‘Do we need to call them?’

  The flying squad was a specialised team with a dedicated ambulance that was mainly used for transport of premature or sick babies to a hospital like the Kensington, which had a neonatal intensive-care unit, but it could also cater for any obstetric emergency like a home birth going wrong or a complication like a post-partum haemorrhage or obstructed labour. The team could include an obstetrician and/or a neonatal specialist, midwives and paramedics and had an incubator as part of their equipment in case an out-of-hospital birth or transport was needed for a fragile infant.

  ‘Maybe.’ There was a hint of a smile on his face as the midwife spoke to Kelly for the first time but it was ironic rather than amused. ‘For now, it’s good that you’re a “girly” paramedic. Between us, we might be able to properly assess how m
uch blood Vicky’s actually losing.’

  Any hint of that smile had faded but his glance still communicated the fact that this man was well aware of the threat that Vicky’s husband posed and that his attitude to a male midwife being here was exacerbating that threat. He wasn’t about to let it stop him doing his job, which deserved serious respect as far as Kelly was concerned. That simple reference to her being “girly” conveyed both an understanding of the kind of prejudice that could come with crossing perceived career boundaries or trying to assert authority and the kind of humour that meant he’d learned long ago how to deal with it. That earned more than respect from Kelly.

  She liked this man.

  As an advanced paramedic whose expertise had been requested, Kelly was theoretically now in charge of this scene but she wasn’t about to ask this midwife to step back if it wasn’t necessary. He had looked as though he knew exactly what he was doing when he’d been checking both the position of the baby and how tender or rigid Vicky’s abdomen was, and now he was about to move her clothing to check on her blood loss—something they both needed to assess as rapidly as possible.

  A split second later, however, he reared back as an open beer can, spewing froth, whistled through the air to narrowly miss his head. Vicky cried out in fear and shrank back against the couch, even as the midwife moved to shield her, and it was in that instant that Kelly knew this woman had been struck in the past.

  Maybe they should have waited until they could have taken Vicky out of there and into an ambulance before starting any assessment or treatment but this was most definitely not the time to start thinking about how she could have improved her management of this scene. Abuse of any kind was totally unacceptable and the midwife—who’d come into this situation alone with the sole intention of looking after a vulnerable woman—could have been seriously injured by that can.

  With anger driving her muscles, it only took Kelly three steps to get to the other side of the room, although it was long enough for a hole to get punched into a wall. Not that that slowed Kelly down. If anything, she was even more furious as she faced up to the violent thug that Vicky was unfortunately married to.