The Midwife's Glass Slipper / Best For the Baby: The Midwife's Glass Slipper

There was no point in making small talk. That wasn’t why she had come. “I’m pregnant.”

The two words hung suspended in the air between them.

“Are you saying the baby’s mine?”

She had never imagined he’d doubt that when she told him. “Of course the baby’s yours. You’re the only man I’ve slept with in a year. But if you don’t believe me, then we don’t have anything to talk about.” She turned, ready to leave, almost eager to leave.

But Grady shot out of his desk chair, was around his desk, and grabbing her elbow. “Hold on there. It was just a question.”

Gazing into his eyes, she realized it was a question he’d had to ask. After all, they didn’t know each other.

“We used a condom,” she said lamely, knowing that form of contraception was usually reliable but not foolproof.

Grady sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Yes, we did, but it was a condom I’ve had in my wallet for a while.”

“It could have broken?”

“Possibly. Or you could have gotten pregnant before I put it on.”

She felt heat crawl into her cheeks. There had been foreplay—teasing foreplay as she’d never experienced before.

Completely aware of his hand on her arm, the tingles dancing up and down, she pulled out of his grasp and had to make something clear. “I don’t want anything from you, Grady. We’d already decided seeing each other again would be a mistake. This doesn’t change that.”

“The heck it doesn’t.” His drawl had become more pronounced with each word. “I’m going to want a DNA test after the baby’s born.”

Her heart lurched. She did not want a relationship, especially not with a man who couldn’t trust. The idea of getting involved again, getting penned up, trapped, controlled, almost made her panic.

He must have seen the look in her eye because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to have this child and raise this child and love this child. But that doesn’t mean you and I have to be…connected.”

“What has you so spooked? You weren’t like this that night.”

No, she wasn’t. That night had been full of wonder and impulse. When she’d met Grady, the chemistry between them had been so strong she hadn’t thought about the next day or a week from that night.

“I’m not spooked. I just don’t want to be involved.”

“You are spooked. You’re afraid I’ll do something you don’t want me to do. So why did you tell me?”

“You had the right to know. Sagebrush is a small town.”

“And I could put have two and two together easily if I saw you pregnant and figured out the dates.”

“Yes,” she admitted, wanting to turn from his probing blue eyes but unable to do so.

His voice lowered…was gentle yet more intense. “You’re not going to cut me out of the baby’s life. If I’m a dad, I’m going be a dad. Do you understand that, Francesca?”

She went cold inside from the thought of him wanting any kind of control, and licked her dry lips. “What does that mean?”

“It means I want to spend time with my son or daughter. I want to have a say in decisions. I want to act like a real parent. I’ve looked forward all my life to being a dad. I’m not going to let the opportunity slip away.”

Grady came from a large family, a loving family, and she should have realized he’d feel this way.

“Don’t look so scared, Frannie. I’m not going to try to take custody away from you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She didn’t know what she was thinking. No one had ever called her Frannie.

“I’m not scared,” she returned defensively, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just worried you’ll want to tell me what to do and that’s not going to happen.”

He eyed her assessingly. “I guess we really don’t know each other, do we? One night on the sofa doesn’t a couple make.”

“No, it doesn’t. And we’re not a couple.”

He let a few pounding heartbeats pass before he asked, “When are you due?”

“February twenty-seventh.”

“What are you going to do about your practice?”

“I haven’t figured everything out yet. I’ve only known a short while.”

He cocked his head. “Did you think about not telling me and moving away from Sagebrush?”

She was hoping her guilt didn’t show.

“You did, didn’t you?” he accused. Then calmly he asked, “What made you decide to stay and not run?”

“I’m not a coward. I have a life here. I’m not going to let any man make me give up what I’m building.”

He slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans—as if maybe he wanted to do something else with them—and continued to study her. “So what do you suggest we do?”

“I’d like you to give me time—the length of my pregnancy—to figure some things out.”

A line creased his brow and he didn’t seem to like the idea. Yet he asked, “You’ll call me when the baby’s born?”

She nodded.

His strong jaw set and his mouth formed a tight line. “I have one condition.”

“What?”

“You e-mail me a report every time you go to the doctor just to let me know everything’s okay.”

For some reason, she didn’t quibble. She didn’t see the condition as manipulation. Grady was asking her to communicate with him and it didn’t have to be in a personal way, just in the form of a report. She could do that.

“All right,” she agreed. “That won’t be a problem.”

“Have you been to see a doctor yet?” he asked.