* * *
Julie clenched the steering wheel with both hands and bit down on her bottom lip to hold back the scream of frustration that threatened to burst from her throat. A quick detour through Pinehurst to meet with a friend of her brother’s from law school had seemed like a great idea when she’d called and made the appointment a few hours earlier, but that was before the snow started.
Still, she’d no intention of being dissuaded by some light flurries. Except that those light flurries had quickly escalated into an actual blizzard. Weather reports on the radio had warned people to avoid unnecessary travel. Since Julie had been on the highway between Syracuse and Pinehurst at the time and pulling off to the side of the road in order to be buried in snow didn’t seem like a particularly appealing option, she decided her travel was necessary.
And she’d almost made it. According to her GPS, she was less than three miles from Jackson Garrett’s office—but it might as well have been thirty. There was no way she could walk, not in her condition and not in this weather.
Tears of frustration filled her eyes, blurred her vision. She let her head fall forward, then jolted back again when the horn sounded. Great—not only had she driven into a ditch, she’d just drawn attention to the fact by alerting anyone who happened to be passing by. She didn’t know if she was more relieved or apprehensive when she realized that no one seemed to be anywhere in the vicinity.
She was sure she’d seen houses not too far back. In fact, she specifically remembered a sprawling ranch-style with a trio of grinning jack-o’-lanterns on the wide front porch, because she’d noted that it wouldn’t be too long before those pumpkins were completely blanketed by snow.
She closed her eyes and silently cursed Mother Nature. Okay, maybe she had to accept responsibility for the fact that she’d been driving through a blizzard with no snow tires—but who the heck would have thought that she’d need snow tires on the first day of November?
She felt a spasm in her lower back in conjunction with a ripple of pain that tightened her whole belly. Julie splayed a hand over her tummy, silently trying to reassure her baby that everything was okay. But as the first tears spilled onto her cheeks, she had to admit—if only to herself—that she didn’t know if it was. She didn’t know how being stuck in a ditch in the middle of nowhere during a freak snowstorm could possibly be “okay.”
She drew in a deep breath and tried to get the tears under control. She didn’t usually blubber, but the pregnancy hormones running rampant through her system had been seriously messing with her emotional equilibrium. Wiping the trails of moisture from her cheeks, she tried to look on the bright side.
She knew she wasn’t lost. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was, but she’d followed the directions of her GPS so she wasn’t actually in the middle of nowhere. She was in Pinehurst, New York. An even brighter side was found when she pulled her cell phone out of her purse and confirmed that her battery was charged and she had a signal. Further proof that she wasn’t in the middle of nowhere.
Confident that she would be able to get some roadside assistance, Julie leaned over to open the glove box to get the number and gasped as pain ripped across her back. Gritting her teeth, she blew out a slow, unsteady breath and prayed that it was just a spasm. That the jolt of sliding into the ditch had pulled a muscle in her back.
On the other hand, it could be a sign that she was in labor. And right now, that was not a scenario she wanted to consider.
“Please, baby—” she rubbed a hand over her belly “—don’t do this now. You’ve got a couple more weeks to hang out right where you are, and I’m not even close to being ready for you yet.”
Moving more carefully this time, she reached for the folio that contained her vehicle ownership and warranty information and—most important—her automobile association card. Hopefully there wasn’t any damage to her car and as soon as it was pulled out of the ditch, she could be on her way again.
Except that when she dialed the toll-free number on the card, she got a recorded message informing her that all of the operators were currently busy assisting other customers and to please hold the line if she wanted to maintain her call priority. She disconnected. It would probably be easier—and quicker—for her to find the number of a local company and make a direct call. Or maybe, if she was really lucky, a Good Samaritan with a big truck conveniently equipped with tow cables would drive down this road and stop to help.
A flash of color caught the corner of her eye and she turned her head to see a truck drive past, then pull into a driveway she hadn’t even noticed was less than ten feet from where she was stranded. The vehicle stopped, the driver’s side door opened and then a gust of wind swirled the thick snow around, obliterating her view.
She thought she heard something that sounded like a dog barking, but the sound quickly faded away.
Then there was a knock on her window, and her heart leaped into her throat. Not thirty seconds earlier, she’d been praying that a Good Samaritan would come to her rescue, and now someone was at her door. But how was she supposed to know if he had stopped to offer help—or if his intentions were less honorable?
Her breath was coming faster now, and the windows were fogging up, making it even harder to see. All she could tell was that he was tall, broad-shouldered and wearing a dark cap on his head. He was big. The road was mostly deserted. She was helpless.
No, she wasn’t. She had her cell phone. She held it up, to show him that she was in contact with the outside world, then rolled down her window a few inches. A gust of cold air blasted through the scant opening, making her gasp.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Ma’am? The unexpectedness of the formal address in combination with the evident concern in his tone reassured her, at least a little. She lifted her gaze to his face, and her heart jolted again. But this time she knew the physiological response had nothing to do with fear—it was a sign of purely female appreciation for a truly spectacular male.
The knit cap was tugged low on his forehead so she couldn’t see what color his hair was, but below dark brows, his eyes were the exact same shade of blue-green as the aquamarine gemstone ring her parents had given to her for her twenty-first birthday. His nose was just a little off-center, his cheekbones sharp, his jaw square. He had a strong face, undeniably masculine and incredibly handsome. His voice was low and soothing, and when he spoke again, she found her gaze riveted on the movement of his lips.
“Ma’am?” he said again.
“I’m okay. I’m just waiting for a tow truck.”
He frowned. “I’m not sure how long you’ll have to wait. I managed to squeeze through just as the police were putting up barriers to restrict access to Main Street.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the primary road through town is shut down.”
She sighed. “Any chance you have tow cables in your truck?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
She gasped as another stab of pain slashed through her.
“You are hurt,” he decided. “Let me call an ambulance.”
She shook her head. “I’m not hurt. I think…I’m in labor.”
Chapter Two
“Labor? As in having a baby?” Luke couldn’t quite get his head around what she was saying. Not until he noticed that her hand was splayed on her belly.
Her very round belly.
How had he not noticed that she was pregnant?
Probably because his most immediate concern, when he’d spotted the vehicle in the ditch, was that the driver might be injured, maybe even unconscious. He hadn’t given a passing thought to the driver’s gender. And then, when she’d rolled down the window, he’d been absolutely spellbound by her wide and wary blue-gray eyes.
But now, with his attention focused on the bump beneath her shirt, the words that had seemed undecipherable suddenly made sense. “You’re pregnant.”
Her brows lifted in response to his not-so-astute observ
ation. “Yes, I’m pregnant,” she confirmed.
She was also a pretty young thing—emphasis on the young. Early twenties, he guessed, with clear, flawless skin, high cheekbones, a patrician nose and lips that were surprisingly full and temptingly shaped.
He felt the subtle buzz through his veins, acknowledged it. He’d experienced the stir of attraction often enough in the past to recognize it for what it was—and to know that, under the circumstances, it was completely inappropriate.
Young, beautiful and pregnant, he reminded himself.
“Actually, I don’t think it is labor,” she said now. “I’m probably just overreacting to the situation.”
But he wasn’t quite ready to disregard the possibility. “When are you due?”
“November fifteenth.”
Only two weeks ahead of schedule. He remembered his sister-in-law, Georgia, telling him that she’d been two weeks early with Pippa, so the timing didn’t seem to be any real cause for concern. Of course, Georgia had also been in the hospital. The fact that this woman was stuck in a ditch and nowhere near a medical facility might be a bit of an issue.
He took a moment to clear his head and organize his thoughts, and saw her wince again.
“Are you having contractions?”
“No,” she said quickly, and just a little desperately. “Just…twinges.”
Apparently she didn’t want to be in labor any more than he wanted her to be in labor, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t.
“I think I should call 911 to try to get an ambulance out here and get you to the hospital.”
“It’s probably just false labor.”
“Have you been through this before?”
“No,” she admitted. “This is my first. But I’ve read a ton of books on pregnancy and childbirth, and I’m pretty sure what I’m experiencing are just Braxton Hicks contractions.”
He wasn’t convinced, but he also wasn’t going to waste any more time arguing with her. Not with the snow blowing around the way it was and the condition of the roads rapidly getting worse. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
“911. Please state the nature of your emergency.”
He recognized the dispatcher’s voice immediately, and his lips instinctively curved as he recalled a long-ago summer when he and the emergency operator had been, at least for a little while, more than friends. “Hey, Yolanda, it’s Luke Garrett. I was wondering if you could send an ambulance out to my place.”
“What happened?” The clinical detachment in her tone gave way to concern. “Are you hurt?”
“No, it’s not me. I’m with a young woman—”
He glanced at her, his brows raised in silent question.
“Julie Marlowe,” she told him.
“—whose car went into the ditch beside my house.”
“Is she injured?”
“She says no, but she’s pregnant, two weeks from her due date and experiencing what might be contractions.”
“Twinges,” the expectant mother reminded him through the window.
“She insists that they’re twinges,” Luke said, if only to reassure her that he was listening. “But they’re sharp enough that she gasps for breath when they come.”
“Can I talk to her?”
He tapped on the window, and Julie lowered the glass a few more inches to take the device from him. Because she was inside the car with the window still mostly closed, he could only decipher snippets of their conversation, but he got the impression that Yolanda was asking more detailed questions about the progress of her pregnancy, possible complications and if there were any other indications of labor.
A few minutes later, Julie passed the phone back to him.
“If I thought I could get an ambulance through to you, I’d be sending one,” Yolanda told Luke. “But the police have completely shut down Main Street in both directions.”
“But emergency vehicles should be able to get through.”
“If they weren’t all out on other calls,” she agreed. “And the reality is that an expectant mother with no injuries in the early stages of labor, as Julie seems to think she might be, is not an emergency.”
“What if the situation changes?”
“If the situation changes, call me back. Maybe by then the roads will be plowed and reopened and we can get her to the hospital.”
“You don’t sound too optimistic,” he noted.
“The storm dumped a lot of snow fast and there’s no sign that it’s going to stop any time soon. The roads are a mess and emergency crews are tapped.”
He bit back a sigh of frustration. “What if the baby doesn’t want to wait that long?”
“Then you’ll handle it,” she said, and quickly gave him some basic instructions. “And don’t worry—I reassured the expectant mom that Doctor Garrett has done this countless times before.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not.” There was no hint of apology in her tone. “The woman needed reassurance, and I gave it to her.”
And although her statement was technically true, she’d neglected to mention that the majority of the births he’d been involved with had been canine or feline in nature. He had absolutely no experience bringing human babies into the world.
Luke stared at Julie, who gasped as another contraction hit her. “You better get an ambulance here as soon as possible.”
* * *
Julie was still mulling over the information the dispatcher had given her when she saw her Good Samaritan—who was apparently also a doctor—tuck his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.
“Let’s get you up to the house where it’s warm and dry.”
She wished that staying in the car was a viable option. She was more than a little uneasy about going into a stranger’s home, but her feet and her hands were already numb and she had to clench her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She took some comfort from the fact that the emergency operator knew her name and location.
She rolled up the window—no point in letting the inside of the car fill up with snow—and unlocked the door.
As soon as she did, he opened it for her, then offered his other hand to help her out. He must have noticed the iciness of her fingers even through his gloves, because before she’d stepped onto the ground, he’d taken them off his hands and put them on hers. They were toasty warm inside, and she nearly whimpered with gratitude.
He walked sideways up the side of the ditch, holding on to both of her hands to help her do the same. Unfortunately the boots that she’d so happily put on her feet when she set out that morning had smooth leather soles, not exactly conducive to gaining traction on a snowy incline. She slipped a few times and no doubt would have fallen if not for his support. When she finally made it to level ground, he picked her up—scooping her off her feet as if she weighed nothing—and carried her to the passenger side of his truck. She was too startled to protest, and all too conscious of the extra twenty-nine pounds that she was carrying—and now he was carrying. But when he settled her gently on the seat, he didn’t even seem winded.
He drove up the laneway, parked beside the house. When he inserted his key into the lock, she heard a cacophony of excited barking from the other side of the door.
“You have dogs?”
“Just one.” Her rescuer shook his head as the frantic yips continued. “We just got home. I let him out of the truck at the end of the driveway when I saw your vehicle, and he raced ahead to the house to come in through the doggy door, as he always does. And every day when I put my key in the lock, he acts as if it’s been days rather than minutes since he last saw me.”
“They don’t have much of a concept of time, do they?”
“Except for dinnertime,” he noted dryly. “He never forgets that one.”
He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. But before Julie could take a step forward, there was a tri-colored whirlwind of fur and energy weaving between her feet.
“Einstein, s
it.”
The dog immediately plopped his butt on the snow-covered porch right beside her boots and looked up with shiny, dark eyes, and his master scooped him up to give her a clear path through the door.
“Oh, he’s just a little guy. And absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“He’s cute,” the doctor agreed. “And he hasn’t met anyone he doesn’t immediately love, but sometimes he’s too stubborn for his own good.”
She slipped her boots off inside the door, and when he put the puppy down again, it immediately attacked her toes with an enthusiastic tongue and gentle nips of his little teeth.
“Einstein, no!”
The pup dropped his head and looked up, his eyes filled with so much hurt and remorse, Julie couldn’t help but laugh.
The doctor looked at her with a slightly embarrassed shrug. “He’s got some kind of foot fetish. I’m not having a lot of luck in trying to curb it.”
“No worries, my feet are too numb to feel much, anyway.”
“Come on.” He took her arm and guided her down the hall and into what she guessed was a family room. The floor was a dark glossy hardwood and the walls were painted a rich hunter-green, set off by the wide white trim and cove moldings. There was a chocolate leather sectional and a matching armchair facing a gorgeous stone fireplace flanked by tall, narrow windows. The lamps on the mission-style side tables were already illuminated, but as he stepped through the wide, arched doorway, he hit another switch on the wall and flames came to life in the firebox.
“You should warm up quickly in here,” he told her. “I converted to gas a few years ago. As much as I love the smell of a real wood fire, I prefer the convenience of having heat and flame at the flick of a switch.”
“You have a beautiful home,” Julie told him. And, it seemed to her, a big home, making her wonder if he had a wife and kids to help fill it. She hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, but she knew that didn’t prove anything.
A Very Special Delivery Page 2