It's in His Touch

by Shelly Alexander

  “So what are you going to do?” Kimberly asked.

  “I have no idea.” And Angelique didn’t because the same cold hollowness that’d gutted her when she was diagnosed now crept back in to choke out the love she felt for Blake.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angelique picked up the phone several times to dial Blake’s number, only to toss it back on the counter. If he hadn’t been using her, wouldn’t he have called by now? She sat on the back porch wrapped in a blanket and watched the sun sink lower while nursing a glass of red wine.

  Funny how much she missed him, even though she’d never really had him to begin with. They never had a future together. Well, yes, she’d had a momentary lapse in reality by thinking she might actually be able to stay in Red River and be happy here. With Blake.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. She’d known from the start that getting involved with Blake was a dead end. He was a family kind of guy. Had said so on more than one occasion. She wasn’t. Well, she was, but she wouldn’t go there. So this . . . thing she’d had with Blake was better off over sooner rather than later. She was better off. Right?

  She took another sip of wine to warm her against the autumn chill. The snowcap on Wheeler Peak was getting thicker each day, a sure sign that winter would be here soon and fall would be over. Just like everything else in her life, including her partnership. It was the end of the week, and if Gabriel hadn’t already gone to the partners to ruin her career, Angelique was about to ruin it herself.

  Blake’s lack of communication was proof enough that he’d been playing her. His presence and the identity of his attorney had shaken her to the core. No way had Blake not noticed. Yet, he still hadn’t tried to contact her either by phone or by taking the five-minute walk across the footbridge to knock on her door. The old Angelique would’ve said, Game on, and followed through with the threats she’d issued to Aqua Velva, attorney at law.

  The new Angelique didn’t have the stomach to destroy this wonderful little community of quirky, loveable people, even if Blake had duped her on their behalf.

  She looked down at the Red River Resort Development file sitting in her lap. The firm had e-mailed and called several times since her meeting with Blake’s attorney, but she’d ignored them all. If she was going to go down, she might as well go down with panache.

  Setting her wine glass aside, she pulled out the New Mexico Historic Preservation document. With a red pen—fitting for Red River, this place that had somehow become so important to her—she scribbled a note across the top.

  Kimberly Rasnick, Attorney at Law, is expecting your call.

  (505)555-8263

  Act fast. Can only stall so long.

  She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip, and looked at the black thong sitting on the side table.

  You can throw these out. I never wore them, anyway. It was the only way I could get Sarge to deliver the note.

  She hesitated again, considering the sign-off. Love would be the right word, then her name. But she couldn’t force her fingers to form the letters. Finally she wrote, All the best, and left her name off.

  Rolling the note into a small tube, she wrapped her black thong around it—the very thing that had brought them together in the first place—secured them with a rubber band, and called to Sarge, who was currently sniffing around a pine tree.

  After making sure the package was secured between his teeth, she shooed him away and went inside to leave a note for Kimberly. Coop had called and asked her to fill in for Ella in tonight’s volleyball match, and Kimberly would likely arrive while she was gone.

  So that was that. No man, no partnership, and she was about to lose her first case. On purpose. A case she should’ve been able to win blindfolded. She might even be out of a job, but somewhere along the winding road through the Red River Valley, she’d lost the desire to return to Albuquerque at all. All the things she thought she’d wanted when she first got here seemed distasteful and unfulfilling now. She had no idea how she was going to move forward, or what the next step in her life would be.

  Unless, of course, Gabriel really did try to pin his missing company funds and client files on her. That would make the next step in her life pretty clear. She’d need an attorney to start building her defense. Even though Gabriel had no proof, he was a good lawyer and could make her life miserable . . . correction, more miserable than he already had.

  She scribbled off a note to Kimberly and went to lean against the windowsill. Bundling her sweater tighter, she stared out at the yard littered with autumn leaves. A gusty breeze sent colorful foliage tumbling across the lawn, and sparse snow flurries drifted past the window, melting the second they touched the ground.

  She had made a lot of money at Riggs, Castillo & Marone. Financially, she could take her time figuring out her next move—or use her savings to pay for her defense if necessary.

  But the only scenario that made her heart skip with joy was living right here in Red River with Blake.

  She released a weighty breath.

  Too bad that was the only scenario that wasn’t possible.

  Blake’s jaw tightened when Angelique took the court with Coop.

  She’d warned him. She’d told him several times over that she was a good attorney and that she’d win this case. He shouldn’t be so disappointed. And angry. Angry that she’d behaved exactly like she said she would from the very beginning.

  Stupidly, he thought he’d peeled back just enough layers to glimpse the real Angelique. The Angelique with a heart and the ability to care about people instead of wins.

  When she’d flipped the Vicious Switch the moment she walked into the library conference room, it’d been a shock. Of course, Fred Tipton accusing her of some sort of bribery would’ve ticked off anyone. After Angelique stormed out, he’d whirled on Fred and demanded answers, but Fred became suddenly tight-lipped and evasive. Then he recommended that Blake try bribing the bank owners, which got Mr. Tipton fired on the spot.

  Tipton had handed over the case file to Blake, which consisted of no more than five pieces of paper. Mostly correspondence from Angelique and her law firm. Obviously, Tipton knew how to put together a legal case about as well as Blake did.

  Which left Blake and his fellow business owner friends doomed. They had no attorney, no money to hire another one, and Angelique was about to get what she wanted. Another win. He hoped it was worth it to her, because she’d lost his respect in the process.

  Just before leaving for the game, he’d heard a scratch at his back door and knew it was Sarge. He couldn’t even bring himself to pet her dog, so he left the scratch unanswered until the little dog wandered away.

  Now Angelique was in her pure form. Iron mask, steel countenance, sheer competitiveness etched into her determined stance. And she played the part of a champion well. With no emotion at all, not a single flinch in her concentration, she and Coop wiped the floor with the other team, then wrung them out like an old dishrag.

  He couldn’t watch it anymore, because he really just wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to grow up. Instead, he stomped off the bleachers and headed for the door.

  As he walked past the crowd toward the door, Ella called out his name. He stopped and found her in the crowd, two rows up in the stands.

  “Uh, Doc,” she said, her voice a little bewildered.

  “Ella, everything all right?”

  A hand on her rounded belly, she stood and looked down at the pool of water at her feet. Then she looked back at him, eyes rounded with fear, and shook her head.

  The crowd gasped.

  Coop ran toward them just as Ella bent over in the throes of a hard contraction.

  Blake and Coop were at her side in two strides. “Okay, breathe, sweetheart.” Coop’s voice was shrill. “Okay, okay.” His eyes went wild. “Okay . . .”

  Right. Coop was going to be a lot of help.

  “Ella, how long have you been having contractions?” Blake kept his tone calm.

  The pai
n subsiding, she found her voice. “A while, but I thought they were Braxton Hicks.” She doubled over again and groaned against the pain.

  Blake looked around, and his eyes landed on Angelique. He ignored her and moved on to Lorenda. “Lorenda, call 911.” She nodded and pulled out her phone. Then he found Miranda in the crowd. “You’re on crowd control.”

  Miranda put two fingers in her mouth and let out a sharp whistle. The chatter ceased, and she shouted, “Everybody out! Lady having a baby.” The crowd moved toward the door, and Miranda herded them out.

  Blake returned his attention to Ella, whose face crinkled under another contraction. Coop was frozen with fear.

  “Ella, help is on the way,” Blake tried to soothe her.

  Lorenda shook her head at him and held the phone away from her ear. “There was a logging accident. Dispatch is diverting my call to Taos. It’ll be thirty minutes.”

  Hell. The contractions were already coming so fast the baby would be here by then.

  Ella yelped in pain and clutched at her lower belly.

  He retrieved his keys from his pocket and tried to hand them to Lorenda, but she was on the phone. Angelique was the only person left without an assignment. “Go to my clinic. In the storage room there’s a portable gurney. It’s not that heavy, so you should be able to carry it on your own. Double-time it.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Snatching the keys, she nodded and took off at a dead run.

  In less than eight minutes they had Ella in Blake’s office on a clean examination table. He instructed Lorenda and Angelique to hold up Ella’s legs.

  “You can do this, sweetheart,” Coop said, standing at Ella’s head and holding her hand as she bore down and pushed.

  “The baby’s crowning,” Blake assured them. “Come on, Mom, keep pushing.”

  Ella grunted and screamed, then she panted for precious air.

  “Just a few more pushes and you’ll get to see your new baby,” Blake encouraged her with a calm voice.

  She pushed hard and screamed when a slimy head popped out into his gloved hands.

  “Okay, great, Mom. No tearing. Now we gotta get the shoulders out, so can you take a deep breath and push as hard as you can?”

  Ella shook her head and sobbed, sweaty hair plastered around her face.

  “Sure you can, sweetheart. Come on.” Coop kissed her temple.

  “You can do it, Ella,” Lorenda assured her friend.

  Blake glanced at Angelique and did a small double take at the wetness that shimmered in her eyes. The softness. The longing.

  Ella let out another wail of pain, and Blake tore his gaze off Angelique.

  “Come on, Ella, push for us,” Blake coaxed her.

  One more long grunt mixed with groans, a few cuss words and a scream, and the Wells family became a family of three.

  Holding the little bloody creature in his hands, Blake smiled. “It’s a girl.” His voice was a little shaky. He’d delivered a few babies during his residency. It’d been a while, but was no less incredible, the miracle of a new life never ceasing to choke him up. “You did good, Mom. I hope I have a kid half as beautiful as her someday.”

  The infant started to wail, and Ella wept while Coop hugged his wife tight, showering kisses over her head.

  “Angelique, grab the fresh blanket I laid out, and hold her so I can tie off the cord.”

  “Um . . .” Angelique’s stormy eyes went wide.

  Blake gave her a stern stare. “I need to deliver the placenta.”

  She grabbed the blanket and let Blake lay the baby girl in her arms.

  He retrieved a box of sterile instruments from a drawer, ripped the plastic off, and tied off the umbilical cord. “Now bundle her up in the blanket tight while I finish with Ella.”

  Turning to Ella, Blake asked, “You good, Mom?”

  Ella nodded, still weeping.

  “As soon as the placenta is clear you can hold your daughter, okay?”

  Ella nodded and wept some more. Coop even swiped at a tear.

  And that’s what Blake loved about his job. Not the ego of being a doctor, not the prestige, not the money, because hell, he didn’t make that much in Red River. It was moments like this that made it worthwhile.

  Angelique turned back to them with the baby girl nestled in her arms and handed the bundle to Coop, watery eyes glistening under the lights. Not enough for actual tears to fall, but enough to make her turn to the wall and pull off her gloves.

  Huh.

  Ms. Badass Attorney’s maternal instincts were kicking in, and she wore her thoughts and her mushy emotions right there on her black Nike sleeve. Unbelievable. He’d seen a glimpse of her softness. Way more than a glimpse. He’d seen all five feet nine inches of bared softness up close, flush against him and murmuring his name. But this, this raw yearning that was so apparent when a woman wanted a child, was unexpected because she didn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her entire lush body. And it was nice because he’d imagined Angelique having his baby, imagined this very scenario with Angelique in the throes of childbirth.

  Until she vowed to destroy him and everything in his life.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and Blake finished up with Ella and covered her with a blanket.

  “Miranda’s outside flagging down the EMTs,” Lorenda said. “I’ll go hold the door open for them.”

  “No.” Angelique still faced the wall, but her voice was hard. “I’ll go. I’m leaving anyway.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The doorbell tinkled as Blake entered the Ostergaards’ bakery the next morning. But even the tasty aromas coming from the shop couldn’t squash his dark mood. He’d been a happy man just a few days ago, thinking he might have a future with Angelique. Thinking she might choose him over a client and actually use her legal prowess to help save Red River instead of level it.

  Now he had to figure out another plan because his previous one had disintegrated just about the time Angelique turned on him in the meeting, and then he’d had to fire his attorney. The truth was, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do next. Not sure there was anything he could do. But he couldn’t keep the truth from his friends any longer. It was time to tell them how bad the situation really was. Maybe one of them could come up with a better way to handle things, because he’d screwed it up royally so far.

  The shop was empty, but the sounds of clanking pots and pans came from the back room. Blake walked to the counter and perused the brimming display cabinet.

  The Ostergaards’ selection hadn’t been this extensive since Mrs. O was diagnosed. She must be feeling better. That was good news in this little town where everyone celebrated one another’s victories and grieved one another’s tragedies.

  And that made Blake feel even worse about his failure. Angelique and her client would deliver a damaging blow to the Ostergaards and the rest of the proprietors along Main Street. They’d trusted him, and he’d let them down, all because he couldn’t keep his mind or his hands off of a certain strong-willed, leggy Italian girl from the moment she’d snatched her black thong right out of his hand.

  After delivering Ella’s baby, he’d spent the rest of last night pacing the floor of his cabin. He’d walked outside a few times to go bang on her door, only to decide against it. Reasoning with her seemed pointless. If she still couldn’t see that loyalty to her law firm was completely misguided and misplaced, that she was on the wrong side even if she did win, it was because she didn’t want to see it. So did he really want to see her again?

  Dammit, yes he did. So he’d wallowed in self-pity all night, hoping Sarge would show up to play a new round of Mystery Panties. Even better, Sarge’s owner could’ve shown up in said panties and given him an explanation as to what her problem was. Unfortunately, he hadn’t seen hide, nor hair, nor panties of either of them.

  How pathetic was he, anyway? Pretty pathetic because he couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who came to Red River to dismantle his life and in general rip his A-fibrillating
heart from his chest.

  “Ah, zee first customer of zee morning.” Mr. Ostergaard came from the back to stand behind the counter. “Vhat brings you out on a Saturday morning, Dr. Holloway?”

  “Morning, Mr. Ostergaard. It’s my weekend to help out at the free clinic.” And I need to tell you what a screwup I am. “How’s Mrs. O?” Blake asked, fully expecting a good report.

  Mr. O’s expression dimmed, and he shook his head. “Zee chemo is very hard on her. She’s home resting.”

  Confused, Blake glanced over the full display of fresh pastries. Then Mr. O must be doing double time.

  “Vhat can I get you, Doctor?”

  “How about . . . six of those.” He pointed to the cream cheese Danishes. While he was here he might as well pick up something for the rest of the crew because Kaylee and Nadine had volunteered to help out today, too. Racking up brownie points with those two never hurt, especially since he was probably going to have to lay them off soon. Keeping a staff was a little difficult when you didn’t have a business left. “And how about six of those.” He pointed to the cinnamon rolls, and cleared his throat. Stuffed both hands in his pockets. “Uh, listen, Mr. O, I’m calling a meeting to discuss the resort project Monday morning in my office. Can you be there?”

  “Of course,” said Mr. O.

  “And can you help me pass the word to all the other business owners? There’s something I need to tell every—”

  “This is the last tray.” Angelique hurried out of the back room, holding a pan of pastries with two oven mitts. She stopped short. Even though she wore an apron, she was still covered in flour. Her hair was pulled back, and a coat of flour or maybe powdered sugar had settled over the black silky mess. White smudges streaked one cheek and her forehead, which now wrinkled at the sight of him.