Married by Accident

by Christine Rimmer

  Melinda thought of her mother again. Of this, Elaine Bravo would never approve.

  From somewhere in that sultan’s tent of a room, the star’s celebrated throaty voice demanded, “Well, Tasha. Is that the damn lingerie peddler at last?”

  “Yes, Ms. Erikson, she’s here,” replied the oldest, ugliest maid.

  “Get her in here, then.”

  The first maid chose that moment to make herself scarce. She turned on her duty shoes and hurried back down the checkerboard floor of the hall.

  The maid named Tasha stepped back to clear the doorway. She gestured toward where the star waited. “This way.”

  The youngest maid, Essie, took up the lead, Melinda and Cole following, with Tasha in the rear. They went through the foyer, stopping beyond the gold-draped arch that framed the decadent sitting room.

  The star, draped in an eggshell-blue satin wrapper, lay on a long, plush divan. She was petting the largest housecat Melinda had ever seen, a white Persian with a blue satin bow around its neck and an evil gleam in its sapphire eyes.

  “Xerxes, my darling,” Evelyn Erikson said to the cat. “You’ll have to get down now. Mummy has salespeople to deal with.”

  The cat actually seemed to understand its mistress. It cast a baleful glance at the row of box-holders in the doorway and then jumped to the gold carpet, where it promptly sat on its big haunches and began licking a long-haired paw.

  “That will be all, Tasha,” Evelyn Erikson said. The oldest maid turned and left them.

  The star’s legendary eyes, which were the exact eggshell-blue of the wrapper she wore and the tracery of vines and flowers woven into her divan, made a swift and scathing inventory of the three individuals standing before her. Her gaze lingered on Cole.

  “And who are you, may I ask?” The famous eyes now shone with a distinctly rapacious light.

  “Cole Yuma. Ma‘am.” He looked right at her and he made the single word ma’am into a polite but undeniable rejection. Melinda wondered with some admiration how he managed that. When he had called her ma’am it had never sounded anything but solicitous and sweet.

  Evelyn Erikson let out what sounded like a regretful sigh. Her thick, bronze lashes swooped down. When she looked up again, her gaze moved right over Cole—and straight to Melinda.

  Melinda’s meager hope that everything might still work out reached an abrupt demise as she recognized the look the star sent her way.

  Envy.

  Evelyn Erikson was a lush and stunning woman. But she had to be well into her forties, at least. Melinda was twenty-eight. Men were always stopping and staring, embarrassing her, when she walked down the street. And perhaps, Melinda thought bleakly, though her slim skirt and matching jacket were modestly cut, she should have chosen a color other than “power red” for this appointment. In red she felt rather like a matador, waving a crimson cape at a snorting, ground-pawing, about-to-be-raging bull.

  In a rustle of blue satin, the star rose from the divan. Melinda stared at her in dread. Her carefully rehearsed presentation, to which even the skeptical Rudy had given high marks, flew right out of her head.

  Evelyn Erikson’s sculpted nostrils flared. “You are late,” she accused icily, turquoise eyes agleam. It was a challenge, Melinda knew. Evelyn Erikson was daring her to point out that it couldn’t be more than a few minutes past the appointed time. Melinda held her tongue. From the corner of her eye, she saw a muscle twitch in Cole’s jaw. She turned her head and glared right at him thinking, Don’t you dare say a single word.

  He stared back at her for a suspended moment. She felt hopelessly certain he was going to say something that Evelyn Erikson would not like to hear. But then his shoulders lifted in a nearly imperceptible shrug. She knew then that he would keep quiet.

  “All right,” said Evelyn Erikson. “Let’s have a look.” She gave a flick of her wrist toward another gold-draped arch, beyond which Melinda could see a huge round bed raised on a platform, covered with a quilted gold spread and piled with a hundred turquoise-blue satin pillows. “Set it all down over there.”

  The maid called Essie trotted right over, marched up the platform steps to the bed and set her burden down. Melinda and Cole did the same. As Melinda placed her few boxes on the gold coverlet, she couldn’t help but take note of the huge mirror suspended directly above the bed, in the center of the suffocating fan of gold silk draped from the ceiling. An unwelcome vision of the ways Evelyn Erikson might put such a mirror to use popped into her mind. She told herself firmly not to think about that. She also took care not to glance at Cole right then. The last thing she needed was to see in his eyes that he was wondering about the mirror, too.

  The star stalked up the steps to the bed. She snapped her fingers. “Essie.” The maid turned swiftly and left them.

  What is the matter with you? Melinda castigated herself. Do something. Say something. Now. She cleared her throat “I thought first, you might like to take a peek at our Premiere—”

  The star snapped her fingers again. “I can open the damn boxes myself. Get out of the way.”

  Hopelessness and extreme embarrassment washing through her, Melinda stepped back. Cole did, too.

  Evelyn Erikson ripped the ribbon off one of the boxes and lifted out a delicate scrap of silk the same topaz color as her shining hair. She held the beautiful piece up and sneered, “A teddy. How ordinary.” And she tossed it aside.

  The star tore into the second box, and the third and the fourth. “A peignoir, a nightgown, a demi-bra and matching tap pants,” she announced in disdain as each piece was held up, found wanting and quickly tossed aside. “No. Boring. Forget it. I hate it”

  At one point, as lingerie flew, Melinda tried again to inject a positive note. “That bed jacket really would look terrific with your—”

  The star whirled on her. “When I want your opinion, blondie, I’ll give it to you.”

  Melinda kept her mouth shut after that. She stood beside a silent Cole, clutching her order pad and her pen, watching lingerie fly, trying not to think of what would happen when she returned to Forever Eve and Rudy learned what a debacle she’d made of this important sale.

  As Evelyn Erikson finally came to the last of the boxes, Melinda felt a slight movement beside her. Cole. Her free hand—the one without the order pad—hung between them. He slid his hand around it.

  She felt instantly soothed. Which was strange. After all, she really did hardly know him. She shot him a glance. And it seemed she could read volumes in those gentle, kind eyes. It’s not your fault. Everything will be all right....

  A smile of pure gratitude quivered across Melinda’s mouth. And down in her solar plexus, something flared: the burgeoning heat of a growing attraction. An achingly sweet sensation, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Then she thought, Annie.

  Innocent, hugely pregnant young Annie, waiting out in the pickup for Cole to come back to her.

  For Melinda to stand here in Evelyn Erikson’s oppressive boudoir, with that naughty mirror suspended above the bed, holding hands with Annie’s cowboy and thinking that he excited her, was worse than inappropriate—it was downright wrong.

  She slid her hand free of Cole’s grip and resolutely looked away from him.

  The star had finally finished tossing lingerie around. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring down in disgust at the tumble of boxes and discarded undergarments. “Hopeless,” she said. “Absolutely impossible.”

  Melinda couldn’t have agreed with her more.

  Someone tapped on the outside door. “Tasha! Get that!” shouted the star. The maid, who had evidently been huddled somewhere in the outer room, hurried to the big doors.

  A moment later, a tall, tanned hunk in swim trunks, Teva sandals and an unbuttoned Hawaiian-print shirt appeared in the sitting room. He strode to the foot of the steps leading up to the area containing the huge bed.

  “So. How are we doing?” the hunk said cheerfully.

  The star
glowered. “David, get this trash out of here. I don’t want any of it.” And with that, she swept down the steps, through the sitting room and foyer and out the tall black doors, which she left standing ajar. Her big white cat followed regally after her, its fat, fluffy tail held high.

  David watched her go, shaking his head. Then he turned to Melinda and Cole. His straight white teeth flashed as he smiled. “What can I say? So much talent and beauty. And such a hopeless bitch.”

  Melinda took in a long breath and let it out slowly. “You must be David Devereaux.” The star’s personal assistant, the one who had called her to set up this catastrophe.

  “The one and only.” He continued to smile that carefree beach-boy smile. “Melinda, right? From Forever Eve?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  David Devereaux looked her up and down. “Wow. I should have checked you out in person first. I would have warned you to send someone else.” Melinda didn’t really want to know why, but David Devereaux told her anyway. “If there’s one thing that sends Evelyn into a frenzy, it’s a woman who’s more gorgeous than she is.”

  Beside her, Cole made a low noise in his throat, a sound Melinda read immediately as one of pure disgust. He said, “Come on, Melinda. Let’s get all this stuff together and get out of here.”

  It sounded like a terrific idea. She and Cole moved straight to the bed and began gathering up all the strewn lingerie. Melinda put her unused order pad and her pen into one of the boxes. After a moment, David Devereaux helped them. When the last pair of tap pants had been safely tucked away, they each took a pile of boxes and David led them back through the series of halls to the rear stairs.

  The servants in the kitchen watched them silently as they trooped by. At last they emerged from that awful house, trudging down the steps beneath the portico and past the statues that flanked the walk.

  “In the back of that pickup?” David asked in the relentlessly cheerful tone that set Melinda’s teeth on edge.

  “Right,” growled Cole. He took up the lead, striding to the rear of the truck. He put his stack of boxes inside, then took Melinda’s and David’s. Finally he handed Melinda her purse and shut the door, latching it with a firm twist of his capable hand.

  “Well,” David said. “I guess that’s that.”

  “It sure is.” Cole replied in a voice as cold as dry ice.

  “You have a nice day.” And David Devereaux left them, his Hawaiian-print shirt ruffling slightly in the gentle breeze as he strolled back up the walk to the door.

  When he was gone, Cole said quietly, “You shouldn’t have given me that look in there. You should have just let me say what was on my mind. It wouldn’t have turned out any worse than it did.”

  Melinda sighed. “Maybe not. But it wasn’t your problem, Cole, and I think you know that.”

  He grunted. “Yeah. I guess that’s so.” Then he put his hand on her shoulder. The touch felt warm. She could almost imagine his strength flowing into her, bolstering her spirits, which had sunk dangerously low. “You gonna be all right?”

  She made herself nod. “I am going to be fine.”

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Come on. We’ll take you home.”

  “Oh, no. You shouldn’t have to—”

  He didn’t even let her finish protesting. “Melinda.” His hand dropped away, leaving her wishing it hadn’t—and knowing she had no right at all to wish such a thing. “Get in the truck.”

  She gave in. She needed a ride. And he insisted on giving her one. Where was the conflict—except in her own mind? “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.”

  They turned together and headed for the passenger side of the cab. When they got there, he pulled the door open for her, a gentleman to the end.

  She smiled at Annie, sitting there waiting so patiently, clutching her big stomach. “Cole insists on taking me home.”

  Annie didn’t smile back. Her face looked flushed, her eyes way too wide. Her soft brown hair clung in damp tendrils at her temples. “I, um...” She looked down, and Melinda followed her gaze, to the spreading wet stain on her denim maternity jumper.

  Melinda looked lower still. Slightly yellowish liquid trickled slowly along the girl’s legs. It was already forming a small puddle on the floor.

  “I, uh, was just sittin’ here. Admirin’ those statues. And then, all of a sudden, something kind of gave.” Annie said the words in a whisper. She looked every bit as stunned as Melinda felt.

  Cole said matter-of-factly, “Looks like your water’s broken, Annie. I guess we’ll be stoppin’ off at the hospital before we can take Melinda home.”

  Chapter Three

  Melinda turned around and gaped at him. “She...it... what?”

  He looked as if he handled this kind of challenge every other day. “The amniotic sac has broken.”

  The amniotic sac. Melinda understood the words. She’d pored over a hundred books on pregnancy and childbirth before she lost her baby, so hungry to fully comprehend the miracle happening inside her. “I...I knew that,” she heard herself mutter.

  Cole was looking at Annie. “Annie girl, you’ve seen what can happen when the sac breaks all of a sudden.”

  Annie nodded. “Cord prolapse.”

  “Do you feel anything... blocking you up down there? Anything sticking out?”

  Annie flushed bright red. “Cole.” It was a rebuke. “You make me feel like a heifer.”

  Cole grinned. “Humans and heifers do have some things in common.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

  Annie shook her head. “No. It feels...there’s nothin’ in there. Only pressure, more pressure than before. From the baby, you know?”

  “Good,” Cole said. “Then you’re probably doing just fine. But I think we’d better get along to the hospital anyway.” He looked at Melinda, who had stood staring, feeling dumbstruck, through the last exchange. “Hop on in and we’ll get a move on.”

  “I...yes. Certainly. Of course.” Melinda jumped up onto the seat next to Annie and Cole shut the door.

  Moaning, Annie groped for Melinda’s hand, as Cole strode around the front of the pickup and got in himself. “I think...” Annie panted, “Contraction. Oh, Lord...” She squeezed Melinda’s hand so hard, it felt as if she’d managed to crack a few bones.

  Cole started the engine, backed up smoothly, swung the wheel and pointed them in the right direction. Then he roared off. They flew past the long garage and the tennis courts. He took the turn for the gatehouse at a pretty good clip, swinging Melinda against the passenger door, with Annie leaning hard against her.

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “I took that too fast.” They barreled along.

  Annie’s hand relaxed around Melinda’s, the contraction passing as they approached the iron gates. The guard must have had some way to see them coming. The gates swung wide as they approached them and Cole sped right on through.

  When they reached the street, Cole brought the truck to a stop and turned to Annie. He spoke very gently. “Did you get yourself set up at a hospital?”

  Annie, who had slumped into the seat with the fading of the contraction, sat a little straighter. She glared at him as if he’d insulted her. “I told you, Cole. I’ve been taking care of my baby. Jimmy and me—”

  Melinda wondered, Who’s Jimmy? as Cole cut the young woman off. “Annie. It’s no time to get into that.” Now his soothing tone held an underpinning of steel. “Just tell me where the hospital is.”

  Annie sighed and her shoulders drooped again. She moved her hand within Melinda’s. lacing their fingers together, getting a firmer grip, as if she intended to hold on for a long time. “It’s East L.A. General,” she said, then told Cole which way to turn.

  Another contraction took Annie about four minutes after the first one. She panted and moaned and mauled Melinda’s hand as Cole drove with the single-minded concentration of a Mario Andretti, racing through yellow lights and swinging the pickup out and around obstructing traffic, spinning around
corners fast enough to send Melinda and Annie pitching sideways every time.

  “Oh, I am so scared,” Annie whispered at one point, when Cole had swung a hard right and the girl landed on top of Melinda for about the third time.

  Melinda whispered back, “Don’t be. It’s going to be fine, just fine, you wait and see.”

  When Cole pulled up to the entrance at the rear of the hospital, Annie wouldn’t let go of Melinda’s hand. “I’m...I’m all wet I’m so embarrassed. Don’t leave me, Melinda. Don’t leave me. Please.”

  “No. Shh. I won’t I won’t leave you. I swear.”

  Cole caught Melinda’s eye. “Maybe you could take her on in. I’ll find a place to park. Then I’ll find you.”

  “Sounds good,” Melinda replied firmly. She put her arm around Annie. “Come on, now. Let’s go.” She grabbed her purse from the floorboard and pushed open the door, sliding out and coaxing Annie down after her. The girl huddled against her as they headed for the big glass doors.

  Inside, they couldn’t seem to get anyone’s attention right away. People sat in rows on padded benches, waiting, some of them injured, some of the younger ones crying. And some just sitting there, staring into space, waiting their turn. Melinda found them a free spot on one of the benches and tried to get Annie to let go of her long enough to speak to someone at the admitting desk.

  Annie only held tighter to her hand. “No. Just... stay with me. Please.” Another contraction seized her. Melinda dropped down beside her as Annie clutched her belly with one hand and Melinda with the other, panting and moaning, as she rode that one out.

  When it passed, Annie leaned close. Humid warmth from her laboring body swam in the air around them. Warmth and sweetness, from the amniotic fluid that darkened the skirt of her jumper. Melinda recalled reading somewhere that the fluid would smell sweet.

  “You stay here, right here with me.” Annie said softly. “Cole will come. In a few minutes. We can wait for him.”

  “But—”

  Annie patted the hand she wouldn’t let go of. “Really. Don’t worry. He’ll take care of everything.”