ADAM POCKETED HIS key card and headed for the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. After the Peony—Amanda, the stiff had called her—left, the evening seemed to fizzle.
He wouldn’t go so far as to say he’d felt bereft watching her walk away but it had been pretty damn close. As if something meaningful was slipping from his grasp. And he was letting it.
His grandmother would have said their souls had clicked but Adam knew just how corny that sounded. Much cornier than if he’d just admitted that his hormones had suddenly awakened from a long hibernation and said, Mine.
But that was just his neglected libido talking, he admitted wryly. Besides, he was getting too old for one-night stands, even if tall long-legged women dressed like prom queens suddenly seemed to have become a very personal and surprising fantasy.
He arrived just as the doors were closing and he thrust his hand into the opening, causing the doors to bounce, then jerk back open. He stepped forward, an apology dying on his lips when he caught sight of an explosion of pink and wide startled eyes. Eyes so startlingly blue they seemed to glow beneath their luxurious fringe of dark lashes.
Soft lips parted in a soundless gasp and she stared back at him.
His gaze swept from the top of her tousled chestnut hair to her elegant feet, which were no longer bare. The pink strappy sandals she’d been carrying earlier made her long legs appear even longer. She looked good even in the harsh elevator lights, especially when his frank appraisal caused color to rush beneath soft creamy skin.
That embarrassed self-consciousness was in direct contrast to the bold seductress of a couple hours ago. It caught and held his interest even more than the pink peony dress and long limbs.
Abruptly realizing that he was preventing the doors from closing, and that the elevator’s other very pregnant occupant was staring at him with wide-eyed interest, Adam murmured, “Evening, ladies,” and stepped into the car to punch his floor number. Once the doors slid closed, he propped a shoulder against the wall and studied the woman he’d met in the bar, looking at him as though she hadn’t had her tongue in his mouth a couple of hours ago.
“Um...hi again,” she said, trying not to squirm even as heat rose up her neck into her face. Her voice, as low and husky as he remembered, gave him a few bad moments when he recalled the way she’d murmured save me against his mouth before kissing his socks off.
“I see you escaped your jailer.”
She looked momentarily confused. “My jail—? Oh, you mean Jared? Nope.” She grimaced. “We’re not together,” she explained as the very pregnant young woman—also in an explosion of eye-popping pink tulle and organza—snorted.
“No woman in her right mind would be with Jared,” the young mother-to-be said, as she sucked in a shaky breath and rubbed her enormous belly. “He’s an accountant and you know how they are.”
“Daphne,” Amanda whispered aghast, grimacing an apology as Adam’s smile widened.
“What?”
Amanda flicked her gaze in his direction as the elevator rose. “Maybe he’s an accountant,” he heard her whisper.
Before he could reassure them that he wasn’t, Daphne shook her head firmly. “Nope,” she whispered back loudly. “No way. Just look at him. Does any of that say accountant to you?”
“How do you know?” Amanda demanded sotto voce, coloring beneath his stare. “It’s not like accountants look a certain way.”
“Of course they do,” Daphne argued. “There’s Pete and Rowland and don’t forget Jared and his brother Mark and oh—”
The last was in response to the jolt as the elevator came to an abrupt and unexpected stop. It swayed violently, prompting the two women to clutch frantically at the rail behind them to keep from being thrown to the floor.
The lights flickered once, brightened and just before they blinked out completely, he saw Daphne’s eyes widen as she grabbed her belly. “Uh-oh,” she said, and Adam, who’d spent enough time during his internship catching babies, knew instantly what it meant.
“Don’t panic, Daph,” he heard Amanda say tightly. “I’m sure it’s only a computer glitch. We’ll be on our way in a minute and then you can relax in a nice warm bath while I call Stan—”
“That’s not what the uh-oh was for,” Daphne interrupted on a thin wail. “I think my water just broke.”
“It’s all right,” Amanda soothed. “No one can blame you for not having control of your bladder at a time like this. I’m sure...um...” She paused and Adam could feel her looking his way.
“Adam,” he supplied helpfully.
“Oh. Right,” she said in a tone that told Adam she was recalling in perfect detail that she’d been up close and personal with a man whose name she didn’t know. “I’m sure...um...Adam will forgive you this one lapse. Besides, it’s entirely understandable in a woman who’s almost ten months pregnant.”
“Eight months,” Daphne said with a tight, dry laugh.
Adam drawled, “I think she means she’s in labor,” turning to feel for the emergency button on the panel.
The emergency lights finally flickered on just in time for him to see Amanda staring at him in open-mouthed horror.
“Labor?” she squeaked, her eyes wide as she dropped her gaze to stare at the other woman’s swollen belly. Her expression told him she half expected an alien to pop out any second. “But—but you can’t,” she said fiercely, clutching Daphne’s arm. “It’s not time. Tell him,” she ordered frantically. “Tell the hunk he’s mistaken. Tell that baby it’s not time, because if I remember correctly, babies are supposed to stay there nine months. Nine months, Daph.” She broke off and sucked in a shaky breath. “Besides,” she continued tightly after a short battle with her slipping control. “Stan isn’t even here. You can’t give birth without Stan.”
“Yeah, well—” Daphne wheezed out a laugh as she clutched her belly “—I don’t think this kid is about to wait for Stan to get here. Oh, God,” she wailed and grabbed Amanda’s arm. “I hope you know something about birthing babies, hon, ’cause you’re it.”
Amanda yelped as her arm turned white around the younger woman’s grip. Adam eyed her curiously, because it was obvious that she was battling to remain in control of a situation that had all the hallmarks of going to hell in a handbasket. “I know zip about babies, Daphne, let alone how to help one into this world.”
“Fortunately,” Adam said briskly, digging out his cell phone to toss at Amanda. “I do.” He checked his watch while she fumbled the catch, finally looking up to find them both staring at him as though he’d suggested something indecent. “I’m a doctor,” he told them absently, as he calculated that it had been about four minutes since the last contraction.
Amanda looked relieved. “A doctor? Please tell me you’re a gynecologist.”
“Call 911,” he ordered, ignoring her question and taking Daphne’s arm. He didn’t think either of them needed to know he was a cardiothoracic surgeon. He gently pushed Daphne to her hands and knees. “This position will help,” he murmured, briskly rubbing her back. “Explain the situation,” he addressed the woman huddled in the corner with a deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. “Tell them to send an ambulance and the fire brigade.”
“Fire brigade?” the two women yelped, staring at him with similar expressions of horror.
“You mean there might be a fire?” Daphne squealed, slapping at Adam’s hands as she shot upright to glare at him. “I am not giving birth in the middle of a fire!”
“No,” Amanda said, her wide blue eyes clinging to his as she punched in the emergency numbers with shaking fingers. “I think it’s in case maintenance can’t get the computers rebooted in time and they have to break us out of here.”
Adam nodded reassuringly. “That’s right,” he soothed gently, reassessing his Peony as Daphne blew out a long breath and grunted, “Breaking us out sounds good. Can they do it now?”
“Soon,” Adam promised. “For now, all you need to do is concentrate on breathing through the contractions. No pushing, okay? Just breathing.”
After relaying the information to the 911 dispatcher, Amanda turned narrowed eyes on him. “You better know what you’re d-doing,” she stuttered in a fierce undertone over Daphne’s heaving form. “Because I wasn’t kidding. I h-have no idea what I’m supposed to do other than b-boil water and get fresh towels before hiding until it’s all over.”
Adam grabbed her hand and tugged her down to the floor, guiding her hand to Daphne’s lower back. “Trust me,” he said cheerfully, a quick grin lighting his face. “I know what I’m doing.” Maybe she’d stay calm if he gave her something to do. “Look at me,” he ordered softly when he caught the quick panicked sound of her breathing. Her wide eyes flew to his and he said firmly, “Concentrate on breathing evenly. Can you do that?”
She swallowed, a quick spasmodic movement of her throat, before nodding. “Good,” he murmured with an encouraging grin. “Now rub. It probably feels like her back is breaking. Keep rubbing and don’t worry. Daphne and her baby know what to do.”
“I do?” Daphne panted, sounding a little shaky. “I hate to break it to you, handsome, but this is my first time. I have no idea what to expect.”
Amanda gulped, and Adam caught sight of her pink tongue emerging to swipe nervously across her soft plump lip. “I thought you said you went to Lamaze classes?”
“I did,” Daphne grunted. “But they didn’t say anything about giving birth in an elevator. Nothing,” she yelped, squeezing her eyes closed, “in any of the books I read said anything...about...giving birth in an elevator.” Her voice got louder until she was almost yelling.
Amanda flinched, her eyes wide as she frantically rubbed the other woman’s back and flicked a look at him. “Shouldn’t she be lying down?” she hissed, but Adam shook his head, enjoying the drama despite himself.
“This position is more natural for now. Ideally, when the time comes, she should be squatting.”
Both women looked appalled. “Squatting?” Daphne screeched, “If you think I’m squatting, buster, you’re insane. In fact,” she batted their hands away and grabbed the railing behind her before hauling herself to her feet. “There is absolutely no way I’m giving birth in an elevator, so just forget it. In fact, I’ve decided I’m not doing this. Not here, not ever.”
“Daphne—”
“Get those paramedics,” Daphne snarled. “Because if I can’t have this baby in a hospital, I’m not having it at all.”
Sam opened her mouth but the next contraction hit and she had to make a grab for Daphne before the girl hit the floor. Once it passed, Sam sank onto the floor beside her and stared at the hunky doctor.
Adam, she reminded herself. His name was Adam and he had one knee on the floor, his large hands on Daphne’s belly. The look of concentration on his handsome face was surprisingly attractive.
“Are you okay, Daph?” Her heart was racing and she felt the edge of hysteria trying to push through her shaky control.
Oh, God. She hoped the EMTs made it in time.
“No. I...am...not...okay,” the other woman gritted out, as she dug her fingers into Sam’s arm and rode the next wave by huffing, puffing and squeezing out a strangled moan. “I’m about to pass a watermelon through my vagina. What part of that sounds okay?”
Sam winced again, both because Daphne’s grip rivaled a muscle-bound logger and she had used the V word in the presence of a man neither of them knew—even if he was a doctor.
“You’re going to be fine,” Adam said, a hint of warm laughter in his voice that he quickly swallowed the instant two outraged females turned to glare at him.
Daphne huffed and puffed, eyeing him with intense dislike. “This is all your fault,” she snarled through gritted teeth.
A dark eyebrow climbed up his tanned forehead as he eyed her warily. “Me?”
“You’re a guy, right?” Daphne snapped, suddenly collapsing against Sam and breathing like she’d run up twelve flights of stairs in stilettos. She pointed a shaky finger at Adam. “If you and your...your kind didn’t look at women with those hot, sexy eyes, none of this would happen.” Sam assumed by the way she said your kind—bitten off with more than an edge of teeth—that she was contemplating violence against poor old Stan.
“Look at him,” the girl panted, glaring at Adam. “I just bet he could impregnate some unsuspecting woman at a hundred paces. Better watch those eyes, girl. They’re potent. One look and he’ll have you performing a naked lap dance.”
Sam made a strangled sound in the back of her throat and snapped her knees together as though Daphne knew what she’d been up to a couple hours earlier. And as though he knew what she was thinking, Adam’s amusement grew, his warm gaze snaring hers and holding it captive as his grin widened.
Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, she heard Adam say, “Can you remove her underwear so I can check dilation?”
Blinking at him uncertainly, she said, “I’m sure you didn’t mean what I think you just said because there’s no way I’m removing anyone’s underwear. Let alone someone I only met two days ago.”
“Hey,” Daphne objected through clenched teeth. “We survived two days of the high school histrionics together, so I think we’re more than a little acquainted.”
Adam’s eyes were clear with a message she had no trouble interpreting. His expression said that if he’d asked her to remove her panties, she wouldn’t have been balking.
Okay, so he might be right. Maybe. But she’d need another dozen shooters to contemplate that.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Daphne burst out. “It’s not like he’s going to be seeing your lady parts stretched beyond recognition. I’d do it myself but—Oh, God!” She squinted at Adam in panic and sprawled onto her back to huff and pant like she was struggling for air. “Tell me they’re not getting closer together because I told you we’re not doing this here.”
“Okay,” he said mildly, sending Sam a pointed look. “I won’t, but it would help if I could see what’s going on.”
Sam hesitated for a couple of beats, then sighed in resignation because no amount of pretending was going to change the situation. Besides, she was almost twenty-eight. Practically thirty. Way past the age when she should be over a stupid little thing like embarrassment and panic attacks at the worst possible moment.
Reaching beneath Daphne’s bridesmaid dress—the one that made the pregnant woman look like a giant luminous beach ball decked out in a frilly pink skirt, she felt for the hip band and gave a tug.
Apparently enjoying her discomfort, Daphne giggled and tried to lift her heaving body off the floor so Sam could tug her underwear down her thighs. Too busy trying to pretend Adam wasn’t controlling a smile and or that she removed people’s underwear every day, Sam ended up wrestling with it like a demented squirrel digging for nuts when the swatch of lace snagged on Daphne’s two-inch heel.
Oh, God. Face flaming and muttering something about guys being useful for exactly nothing except turning women into giant beach balls with legs, she yanked at the offending garment and shoved it at a giggling Daphne.
Adam was silent for a couple of beats, then said mildly, “Good job,” with such a straight face that Daphne’s hoot of hilarity smoothed over his next move as he gently nudged her knees apart and bent to look at ground zero.
With perspiration dotting her brow and seeming unconcerned that a man other than Stanley was looking at her naked crotch, Daphne huffed out breathlessly, “Tell me you were mistaken and that I’m not about to—oh,” and promptly broke off with a low moan as another contraction hit.
“No mistaking that, Daph,” Adam said quietly, sending Sam a narrow-eyed look. “Junior’s head is already crowning. Don’t push until I say, okay?”
“I thought I told you we weren’t doing this here,” the laboring woman wheezed as she collapsed against Sam. “Besides, I want to push more than anything. Except maybe strangle Stan for getting me this way.” Then she grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed as she rode out the next contraction. “And the instant I get out of here,” she gritted out, “I’m telling him there’ll be no more sex for him...ever!”
“Okay, Daphne,” Adam said calmly, his eyes gleaming with concentration. “The head’s emerging. I want you to push now.”
Daphne’s body bowed with the force of her effort and her face went red until Sam thought she’d pop a blood vessel. She made a godawful noise that sounded like she was being ripped apart from the inside and Sam’s heart clutched in sympathy.
She locked her gaze on Adam’s face, the calm in the storm. But—what if something went wrong, she thought suddenly. What if the baby got stuck and they couldn’t get it out? Her heart stuttered, a fist closing around her chest in a squeezing grip that threatened to cut off her air because she suddenly wanted more than anything to help.
Her fingers went numb and there was a loud buzzing in her head. What if...what if she froze and Daphne—or her baby—died because Sam was too terrified to move? What if—?
“Amanda.” A deep masculine voice penetrated the white noise blocking out everything but the tumble of memories that still managed to give her nightmares. Memories that still made her freeze nearly two decades later—
“Hey,” Adam said, his voice deep and smooth and soothing.
Sam blinked, realizing that he was talking to her. “Huh?”
He waited until her gaze cleared. “You okay?”
Hiding a wince, she licked her dry lips. “I’m f-fine,” she said with grim determination. Get a grip, she ordered herself. It’s not like you’re the one giving birth. “I’ve just never w-witnessed a b-birth before.”
After a short silence, he nodded. “It’ll be okay,” he said briskly, straightening to pull off his jacket. “Women have been giving birth for millennia.” She only just prevented the jacket from slapping her in the face when he tossed it at her. She opened her mouth to ask what the heck he was doing when he reached between his shoulder blades with one hand and proceeded to strip his T-shirt over his head in that unique way guys had of undressing, leaving her gaping at him in shock—and admiration, darn it.
“Damn,” Daphne wheezed, echoing Sam’s thoughts and staring at a whole symphony of muscles bunching and flexing beneath acres of satin-smooth skin. “I’d hate you if you weren’t so pretty to look at.”
And because Sam was staring at him, she’d swear she detected a rush of color beneath his skin. She blinked. Had the hot guy just blushed?
Without missing a beat, he ordered, “Another push, Daph,” sending Sam a challenging stare as he thrust his T-shirt at her. “Here, hold this. I’d ask you to sacrifice that dress for what’s coming next but I have a feeling you’re not wearing a hell of a lot under there.”
Sam took the warm soft garment and couldn’t resist one last peek at his wide rippling chest, shifting arm muscles and sculpted abs covered in acres of dark coppery gold skin. The perfect distraction from the panic attack hovering at the edges of her mind. But even as her heart rate slowed, he was suddenly frowning and ordering Daphne to stop pushing.
“Stop?” the woman gasped, lifting her head to gape at him. “Are you crazy?” She let rip with an eerie moan that streaked up Sam’s spine and set all her hair standing on end. “I can’t stop now!”
“The cord,” Adam said softly, doing something between Daphne’s thighs that Sam couldn’t see. “It’s wrapped around the baby’s neck.” He looked up briefly as both women inhaled sharply. “But not to worry,” he soothed, transferring his attention back to what he was doing. “As long as you don’t push or put pressure on this...” He cursed softly which made Sam’s blood run cold and then he was humming encouragement. “Got it. All clear. Just a couple more pushes, Daph, and you’ll be able to hold your baby.”
By the time they heard the commotion and a frantic man yelling, “Daphne, I’m coming, babe,” Daphne was propped up against Sam, gazing with wide-eyed wonder at the miracle in her arms.
Fifteen minutes later, the elevator had reached the lobby and the paramedics were rushing forward to take over the care of Daphne and her baby.
Trembling from reaction, Sam would have tripped in her haste to get out of the elevator if not for the large warm hand cupping her elbow and keeping her upright.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Adam murmured in her ear, as he brushed past her to where the EMTs were loading Daphne onto the waiting stretcher. The look of utter pride and joy on Stan’s face as he stared down at his wife and child brought tears to Sam’s eyes. Thank God Adam had been there to prevent Daphne’s baby from strangling himself on his umbilical. Thank God she hadn’t let Daphne down, she thought as relief washed over her in a knee-weakening rush. And thank God she’d kept herself from losing it. It had been a close call, but other than those brief moments of mind-numbing panic, she’d managed to breathe through the worst of it and help bring a child into the world.
That in itself was a major victory but—
Daphne’s sharp, “Wait!” cut through Sam’s thoughts and she looked up to see the other woman staring at her. “I don’t know how much to thank you for being there. I hope you don’t mind.”
Sam blinked in confusion. “Mind?”
Looking flushed and serene, Daph linked her fingers with Stan’s and leaned into him. “That I named him after you both.” She looked briefly up at Stan, who nodded. “Meet Samuel Adam Prescott.”
Stunned, Sam could only stare back and manage a garbled, “It’s... I... I didn’t do anything, Daph. I—”
“You did,” Daphne interrupted huskily. “More than you know.”
Sam gulped, terrified that she would lose control of the threatening tears “You’re w-welcome,” she rasped.
Adam, who must have realized that she was holding onto her composure with difficulty said, “It’s an honor, Daph and she’s right, we didn’t do anything. You did all the hard work.”
His deep baritone poured over Sam like warm honey, making her feel as though they’d been partners when she knew he’d been the center of calm.
“I know I acted like a crazy person in there,” Daphne continued solemnly, echoing Sam’s thoughts. “But I was wrong.”
Sam licked her dry lips. “W-wrong?” God knows Sam was starting to sound like a parrot but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The combination of adrenaline, a very private sense of accomplishment and the solid male strength and heat seeping into her back had rendered her speechless.
Daphne smirked at Adam’s close proximity to Sam. “So totally worth it,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “Even from a hundred paces.” She was grinning broadly as they wheeled her away, leaving Sam burning with embarrassment because Adam, who knew exactly what Daphne meant, chuckled softly in her ear.
Her body responded instantly, her skin hot and itchy suddenly felt two sizes too small for her body. Like her hormones were suddenly in overdrive.
What the heck, she thought, aghast. What normal woman emerged from a crisis feeling jittery and turned on enough to contemplate jumping a complete stranger?
Clearly, she needed to get out of there before she did something reckless and crazy.