Daddy By Design?: Daddy By Design? / Her Perfect Wife

2

CINDA’S INSIDES FLUTTERED. What would Trey’s kiss be like? But then reality—which included her pregnancy, her ill-timed labor, and their current situation—set in and she looked away from his lips. “Not now,” she chirped, knowing she didn’t really mean it and that he probably hadn’t, either. “But I will take a rain check.”

His eyes warmed. “You got it.”

Her gaze locked with his. That intense, totally inappropriate awareness again flowed between them.

Then, feeling silly in the face of his flirting with her, Cinda busied herself with rummaging around in her purse. “I call my handbag Wonder Purse. Everyone teases me about its size. But every time anyone needs something, it’s in here.”

“I’ll believe you if you pull an obstetrician out of there.”

“Wouldn’t we both be surprised? But I can do the next best thing. I can call one. My doctor’s office is on the fifteenth floor of this very building.” Cinda kept up her rummaging, telling herself that she was not undergoing another labor pain. She began to sweat. No such luck. It was a definite labor pain. Her hand closed around her slim cell phone. She pulled it out and shoved it into Trey’s hands. “Here. You’ll have to dial. Pain. Another one.”

“Oh, no. Hang on, Miss Cinda. Hold on to me if it helps.” He held his arm out for her. Cinda clutched at him as if he were a life preserver. And in a way, if these pains came any faster, he very well might be. “Squeeze hard,” he said. “I don’t mind. What’s your doctor’s number?”

Between shortened breaths, Cinda told him. He dialed, evidently got somebody and began—very calmly and practically—relating the emergency to Dr. Butler’s office staff. Cinda’s pain receded. Still clutching Trey’s arm, she rested her forehead against his muscled bicep. Even through his clothing, she could feel that he was big and strong and warm. Tears of gratitude for a solid, if temporary, presence to lean on, filled her eyes. She’d never had this with Richard, this support, this steadfastness. Not in the five years of their marriage.

Cinda now realized she’d been wrong about this man. He wasn’t at all like the late Richard Cavanaugh. Instead, Trey Cooper was a rock, solid and dependable. And kind. She looked up at him, afraid her heart was in her eyes.

“Hey, no crying,” he said tenderly, tipping her chin up with his free hand. With great casualness he planted a kiss on her forehead. “The nurse is getting your doctor. Evidently somebody’s already called building maintenance about the elevator being stuck. They’re working on it now. And the receptionist will call for an ambulance on the other line. So everything is going to be fine, all right?”

Cinda started to thank him, but he gestured for her not to speak as he listened to whatever was being said to him on the phone. Finally, he nodded and said, “Hello, Dr. Butler. Trey Cooper here. Yes, she’s right here with me, although I’d venture to say she’d prefer being with you.” Grinning—a killer one that exposed an expanse of white and even teeth—he handed Cinda the phone.

She took it, putting it to her ear as she pushed her thick shoulder-length hair back. “Dr. Butler? Oh, thank God. Yes, I’m fine. For the moment, at least. How many pains? Two. Maybe three. No, they’re not that bad…I guess. I don’t know. I’ve never had labor pains before. What? No, not very long. But I think they’re getting closer and harder. Okay. Here he is.” She held the phone out to Trey. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” Frowning, Trey took the phone. “Hello?” As he listened, his eyes widened and he stared at Cinda. “Her what? Birthing coach, if it comes to that? Oh, ma’am, we can’t let it come to that. Miss Cinda told me this baby is breach—what? That means it’s turned sideways? It is?” Sweat broke out on his brow. He ran a hand over his mouth. “Oh, lordy. No, I’m fine. I’ll do it. What? Hold on, and I’ll tell her.” He focused on Cinda. “She’s on her cordless phone. She and her nurse are already taking the stairs to meet us in the lobby when we get there.”

When we get there. Such a wonderful phrase. Still, Cinda had her reservations. “She’s running down fifteen flights of stairs? That poor woman. She ought to be in great shape when she gets to the lobby.”

“She’ll be fine, Cinda. And so will we…if there’s a God. In the meantime, I’m to relay her instructions to you and, uh, do what she says.”

Knowing what a birth coach had to do—and see—Cinda understood his hesitation and felt her face flame. “Maybe you won’t have to do anything. I haven’t had a contraction now for a few—” A sudden, hard pain tore across her abdomen and cut her breath off. She clutched at Trey and the handrail, and began her breathing exercises. “Okay, this one’s bad. Talk to her. Tell her. See what to do. Oh, God.”

Trey was wild-eyed. “It’s bad,” he said to the doctor. “She’s having a pain. Time it? I can’t. She’s holding on to my arm. I can’t get to my watch and hang on to this phone at the same time. What? Tell her to breathe?” With great pomp and seriousness, he told Cinda, “Breathe.”

Feeling as if her insides were being torn apart, Cinda shrieked, “I am, you jackass.”

“She is, you jackass,” Trey yelled into the cell phone before catching himself. “No. Wait. Sorry. Not you. I didn’t mean—do what?” The color drained from the man’s face. “Oh, I don’t think so. I can’t—okay, okay, I will.” He focused on Cinda and exhaled. “This is not my idea. But your doctor wants you to, uh, disrobe from the waist down. She says I may have to check your—”

“You’ll. Check. Nothing,” Cinda snarled, her upper lip actually curling. “You tell her I said people in hell want ice water, too, but do they get it? No. Not in a million years.”

Trey eyed her warily and spoke into the phone. “She said—oh, you heard that. What? You want me to breathe now?” He did. Deeply, slowly.

The elevator car lurched. Cinda gasped. Trey cursed. “It’s the elevator,” he explained to Dr. Butler on the other end of the line. “It jumped or something. Yes, we’re okay. Maybe. Wait. Hold on. I think it’s—yes, it is. It’s moving.”

As if it had never been problematical, the elevator car began a smooth and controlled descent. With her pain easing, Cinda stared up at Trey, wanting him to corroborate for her that she hadn’t lost her mind. “We are moving downward, right? And not in a free fall, right?”

“Right.” He then enthusiastically told her doctor, “Yes, Dr. Butler. We’re apparently on our way. Where are you now? The fourth floor? Wow. You must be a world-class sprinter. Us?” He looked up to the lighted panel overhead. “Eight…seven. We’re on our way. Yeah. See y’all in the lobby.” He punched the end button and handed Cinda the cell phone, which she plopped into her purse. “Dr. Butler’s meeting us in the lobby,” he said, as if reassuring himself as much as her. “With any luck, the ambulance has already arrived.”

Another mechanical lurch—a last-gasp one that didn’t slow the car down any—had Cinda clumsily falling into Trey’s embrace. With his coat open and only his chambray shirt between her and his bare skin, his body felt warm and solid, his scent clean and masculine. His arms about her made her feel the safest she’d felt since before she’d left her parents’ home to marry Richard. “I’m sorry for speaking to you like I did. And thank you for staying with me.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest and vibrated pleasantly against her ear. “No apology necessary. But before you get all sentimental, remember that I didn’t have any other choices open to me.”

Cinda pulled back and looked up at him. “Still, I don’t think you’re the sort who would have left me even if you’d been able to.”

Looking suddenly embarrassed, he said, “You’re right. I would have stuck it out.” He frowned. “That didn’t sound right. What I mean is, I’d have stayed with you.”

AND STAY HE DID. Trey reflected that he’d had no idea, when he’d spoken those words a few moments ago, just how true they’d become. But now he did. The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. A cheering crowd, a virtual welcoming committee, met them. To him, the participants looked more like they belonged at a disaster scene, instead of at the celebration of a new life.

Outside, double-parked in the vehicle-clogged street were the blinking emergency lights of an ambulance, a fire truck, and several police cars—as well as a crowd of curious gawkers, some with cameras. Inside the lobby were several police officers warning people to stay back. Included among the bystanders were two smiling mechanics in greasy overalls. Obviously the heroes who’d fixed the elevator. With them were two emergency medical technicians, one to either side of a waiting gurney. In front of the crowd stood a woman in a white coat—Dr. Butler, presumably—pretty, dark-eyed, blessedly knowledgeable and in charge. A pony-tailed nurse who looked twelve years old but was clad in surgery scrubs stood behind the doctor. The only thing lacking was a partridge in a pear tree.

Though somewhat taken aback by the scene, Trey nevertheless started forward with Cinda at his side. They weren’t even out of the car, though, before everyone rushed forward and began talking at once. Cinda was tugged away from him by the paramedics and gently lifted onto the gurney. Then, with Dr. Butler and her nurse pacing alongside, they all hustled toward the exit. Trey stood where he was, just watching, figuring his involvement had ended. He should be glad, he told himself. And he was—for her. But a pang of something inside him told him he wasn’t ready for her to leave him just yet.

Just then, one of the mechanics came over and surprised Trey by shaking his hand and congratulating him on his impending fatherhood. Apparently hearing this, one of the police officers pushed him forward—toward the ambulance outside.

“But I’m not—” was all he could get out as he was hustled onward.

Outside, the crowd parted and Cinda was loaded into the ambulance. Dr. Butler climbed in. So did her nurse. One of the paramedics jogged around to the front, obviously the driver. The other EMT—a big guy who could have played football for a pro team—latched on to Trey’s arm and cheerfully tried to haul him inside. “Come on, Dad. We’re burning daylight here. Get in.”

Trey resisted. “But I’m not—”

“It’s okay. We’ve seen this nervousness before. In you go.”

And in he went. And away they went, the siren clearing the way for them. Standing at the back of the boxlike interior of the emergency vehicle, Trey tried his level best not to be in the way. He watched as people who knew what they were doing went about doing what they knew to do for Cinda and her baby. Evidently, from Cinda’s groaning and Dr. Butler’s steady, quiet voice alternately giving orders and soothing her patient, things were progressing a lot quicker than anyone would have liked. Trey realized his mouth was dry and his palms were sweaty. He didn’t want to watch such a personal moment for Cinda, but he was pretty much forced to by sheer proximity.

The ride to the hospital, with the ambulance dodging and skirting New York traffic, was, to Trey, like some wild and pitching ride at Six Flags Over Georgia. To keep from being tossed about and becoming the next patient, he hung on to a bolted-down metal shelf about shoulder height to him. In a blessedly few minutes, though each one had seemed like hours to him, they were pulling into the emergency bay of a big hospital. The back doors opened. More medical types in hospital greens reached in and hauled Trey out, again tossing him to one side as they concentrated on assisting Dr. Butler and her nurse with Cinda on the gurney. The EMTs who’d brought them here grabbed Trey up again, calling him Dad and carrying him along in their wake.

Trey was beyond protesting. Instead, he found himself wondering if this much hoopla accompanied every birth…and decided it should. A whole new life was about to happen. A fresh little soul was coming into the world. His stomach knotted with giddy nervousness. He was going to be a father. Wait. No he wasn’t. Everyone just thought he was. But it was still exciting—and scary. Cinda was in so much pain. As they all swept along a narrow corridor and through swinging doors, Trey among them, he wanted to shout for them to do something…which of course they were. And very capably.

Suddenly a folded set of surgery greens were shoved into Trey’s hands by a short, sturdy nurse with a face that reminded him of a bulldog. Apparently, he’d been handed off. Sure enough, she shunted him down another corridor.

“Put these on in there, Dad.” She pointed to a closed door in a wall of doors they were approaching. “Leave on your undershorts and your shoes. You’ll find shoe covers and a hair net under the shirt there. Use them. Take off your watch and any jewelry you might have on. Stay here until I come get you. The door will automatically lock when you step out of the dressing room, so don’t do that. And once in the surgery room, try to stay out of the way. If you get sick or pass out at a critical moment, you’re on your own. You got all that?”

Trey nodded. She reached past him to unlock and open the door. Revealed was a tiny closet of a room with a few pegs for clothes and a wooden ledge for a seat. She firmly ushered him inside it. The overhead light in the claustrophobic cubicle spotlighted him like a trapped insect. He stumbled in, again protesting, “But I’m not the—”

“Save it. You’ll be fine. Won’t see a thing but your wife’s head. Talk nice to her and stay out of our way. I’ll give you five minutes to change. My name is Peg. You do everything I tell you, and we’ll get along just fine. You got all that?”

What else could he say? “Yes, ma’am…Peg.”

“Good.” She closed the door.

In the entombing quiet, Trey stared at the shirt and pants he held. This was serious. No way was he going into that room and witness…a birth. He’d only come to New York City to take care of some team business. Didn’t it figure that the lawyer’s office was in that damned building with the crotchety elevator?

It suddenly occurred to him that he could just leave. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself doing that, sneaking out—and getting caught by Peg. That did it. Trey quickly began shedding his clothes and pulling on the hospital garb. He didn’t doubt for one minute that the nurse was standing right outside the closed door and would haul him into the delivery suite in his underwear and socks, if he wasn’t ready.

In only a couple more minutes, Trey had everything on and was tying the drawstring at his waist when the door unceremoniously opened to reveal Peg standing there. She stared disapprovingly at him. Trey had the absurd notion that he should come to attention, like he had during his stint in the army. Peg gave him a formal once-over. “You’ll do. Let’s go.”

Again Trey hesitated. He took a step back into the safety of his cubicle. “Look, I’m not the father—”

“Right.” Peg advanced on him and grabbed his arm, hauling him along after her. “That’s what they all say. And everyone in prison is innocent.”

TWO HOURS LATER, Trey sat glassy-eyed and alone in one of the father’s waiting rooms off the wing of delivery suites. He hadn’t even bothered yet to take off his paper hair net. Slouching on an ugly vinyl seat, one of many pushed up against a sickly green wall, he stared at a blaring TV suspended in a traylike holder from the ceiling. But he didn’t really see or hear a thing that was external. Inside, though, he was humming. He’d seen a baby girl come into the world. He’d never seen anything like that before. Not that there was anything he could compare it to. A whole new and tiny person. And not too happy to be here, either, judging by her squalling when Dr. Butler had held her up.

Chelsi Elise, her groggy mother had named her. Healthy, chubby, perfect. Honey-gold hair, and a fully functioning set of lungs.

Trey sniffed. Okay, so he’d got caught up in the excitement. So he’d shed a tear and had whooped his joy. That was when Dr. Butler had noticed him and had told everyone he really wasn’t the father. Or the husband. Not even the boyfriend. He was just the guy who got stuck in the elevator with the mother. A stranger.

Peg had damn near pinched his head off once she’d gotten him out of the delivery room. She’d told him to stay in the waiting room and not to move. And he hadn’t. Not that he was afraid of her. She just reminded him of his drill sergeant from boot camp. Oliver Dimwitty. That man was so mean, not one recruit had ever dared make a joke about the guy’s name.

The double doors into the waiting area whooshed open. In walked Dr. Butler, Peg riding shotgun at her hip. Trey sat up straighter, watching the doctor pull her hair cover off and sit down next to him. Peg stood behind the doctor, her arms folded over her chest. Trey focused on the friendlier figure of Cinda’s and Chelsi’s deliverer. Dr. Butler really was a beautiful woman, he noticed again. Rich chocolate-brown hair. Big brown eyes. An easy smile. But more importantly, a keen intellect shone from her eyes. She grinned at him. “You doing okay? I didn’t mean to get you kicked out.”

Trey avoided looking at Peg. “I know. So…how’re they doing?”

“They’re both great. Chelsi weighs seven pounds, eight ounces and is twenty inches long. A healthy little girl who has the good fortune to look like her mother. And Mom’s doing well, too. A bit groggy but okay.”

Trey realized his heart was hammering and he was eating up every detail…just like a new father. Which he wasn’t. “Well, that’s good,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m glad to hear that. It was touch-and-go there for a bit in the elevator. But all’s well that ends well, thanks to you.”

Dr. Butler smiled. “And to you. You were pretty cool during that emergency in the elevator.”

Trey shook his head. “You can say that because you weren’t in there when I tried to climb the wall. Literally.”

She laughed. “No one would have blamed you, either.” Her smile slowly faded into a frankly assessing expression. “But it’s not over yet. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

Trey frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Cinda said she’d like to see you. And thank you.”

Trey caught his excited grin before it could come fully to his face. He couldn’t become attached here. Cinda was not his wife, and Chelsi was not his baby. A wife and a baby were two things he’d postponed, given all the traveling he had to do. And he’d heard enough from Cinda to know he was the last thing she needed, after her late husband’s antics. The truth was, he needed to walk away. Now. So, taking a deep breath and letting go reluctantly, he said, “Well, that’s real nice of her, but—”

“Do it. Just get up and let’s go.” That was, of course, Peg. She held her pudgy hand out to him and waggled her fingers. “Come on. Get up. I’ll take you to her.”

Trey gaped at the stocky woman and then spoke to Dr. Butler. “I see why you brought her.”

Dr. Butler chuckled and glanced up at Peg before focusing again on Trey. “You’ll have to forgive us. Cinda’s become quite special to all of us. She’s been through a rough time, Mr. Cooper. And I don’t mean just today.”

His serious expression matched hers. “I know. She told me about her husband. That was tragic.”

“Yes, as absurd as the circumstances were, it was tragic. I don’t know you, but you look like a decent sort. A nice man. We’re bending the rules here by allowing you to see her since you’re not family. But Cinda asked for you. And I trust her instincts. Just so you’ll know, at Cinda’s request, the nurses have called her and her late husband’s families. They’ll all arrive soon. No doubt with enough flowers and toys to spill out into the hallway. But you still have a few minutes of quiet time. That is, if you want to see her.”

Trey stood up. “I do. And thank you, Dr. Butler.”

She stood along with him. “You’re welcome. I’ve got to go. The pediatrician is checking the baby over, so I’m going to attend that. I’ll turn you over to Peg’s tender mercies, and she’ll take you to Cinda’s suite.” With that, the doctor strode confidently across the room and out the door.

Arching an eyebrow, Trey eyed Peg. “Lead on. I’d follow you anywhere.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hmph. My first husband was a Southerner. Biggest mistake I ever made. North/South marriages never work.” She spun around, heading for the same double doors, obviously expecting Trey to follow her, which he wisely did. “So don’t you try any of your silver-tongued-devil charm on me because it won’t work, Mister Kiss My Grits. Besides, I’m a married woman again.”

Trey grinned at the short woman’s broad back and stocky legs. “Yes, ma’am. Just tell me this, please. Why are the good ones always taken?”