Elena said, trying desperately to fight the increasing dizziness. “Please, stay…and enjoy your…dinner.”
Brett studied her for several long moments. He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he knew for certain Elena suffered from more than just a simple case of exhaustion. Her breathing had become shallow and labored, and her face had become a ghostly white.
“Mario,” Brett called, motioning for the maître d’. When the little man hurried over to them, Brett explained, “Ms. Delgado isn’t feeling well and we’ve decided not to have dinner after all.”
“Very well, Signore Connelly,” Mario said, shooting Elena a worried look as Brett held her coat. “I’m sorry the signorina has fallen ill. I hope she will be all right.”
Nodding, Brett took her by the elbow and started to guide her toward the door. But the moment she turned, her steps faltered and she stopped abruptly. She looked up at him, and he could see a mixture of fear and panic in her expressive brown eyes, and the desperation as she sagged against him.
“Please…help me…Brett,” she whispered, a moment before her lashes fluttered shut and she lost her battle with consciousness.
Without a second thought, he swung her up into his arms, cradled her to his chest and shouldered his way through the exit. Fortunately, he’d been able to park in front of Mario’s and it was only a few feet to his car.
He quickly placed her on the passenger seat of the Jag, fastened her seat belt, then trotted around the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat. Jamming the key into the ignition, he shifted into first and shot from the parking space.
“Hang on, Elena,” he said, fighting an unfamiliar sense of panic as he wove his way around slower-moving vehicles. “I’ll have you in Memorial’s E.R. in less than two minutes.”
Two
Brett loosened his tie, jammed his hands into the front pockets of his suit pants and paced outside of the examining room at Memorial Hospital’s E.R. He was used to having women fall at his feet figuratively, but this was the first time it had ever happened literally. And the worst part of it was, he was to blame.
How could he have pulled such a stupid stunt? Elena had told him she didn’t want to go to dinner, that she’d had a bad day and just wanted to go home. But he couldn’t take no for an answer.
No, Brett Connelly, connoisseur of women, had taken her reluctance to spend time with him as provocation for turning on the charm—as if she was a challenge to be conquered. He’d noticed several times that she looked as if she wasn’t feeling well, but he’d ignored it. He’d even gone so far as to convince himself that a little wining and dining was just what Elena needed to improve her mood. How could he have been so insensitive, so damned stupid?
“Brett Connelly, you’re the last person I expected to see here,” a female voice called.
He looked up to find Meg O’Reilly walking toward him. Great. What else could go wrong this evening? Not only was he responsible for a woman collapsing at dinner, now his past was coming back to haunt him.
Brett hadn’t seen Meg in five years, not since the night the pretty blonde had told him she loved him and intended to marry him as soon as she finished medical school. It had only been a month after his twin brother, Drew’s, wife, Talia, had died and the devastation his brother suffered had been too fresh in Brett’s mind. As with most twins he’d felt Drew’s pain almost as if it was his own. Brett had made a vow never to put himself in the position to experience that degree of guilt, of failure.
So he’d taken Meg home that evening and kindly, but firmly, explained to her that he wasn’t the marrying kind. He’d tried to assure her that although there wasn’t any possibility of a long-term relationship, they could still see each other. But she’d taken exception to his honesty and ended up throwing a lamp at him as he’d made a hasty escape.
Now, spotting in her hand some clear plastic tubing used for IV feedings, he figured she’d probably use it to lynch him right in the hospital corridor.
“Hello, Meg,” he said cautiously. As a matter of habit, his gaze zeroed in on the ring finger of her left hand. Relief coursed through him at the sight of her shiny gold wedding band. “How have you been?”
She pointed to the M.D. after her name on the white lab coat she wore. “I finally made it through medical school.” She gave him a wry grin. “And I see you’re still checking out women’s ring fingers.”
Brett nodded absently. His mind had already returned to the petite police detective in the room across the corridor. It seemed as if she’d been in there for hours.
“Could you do me a favor, Meg? Could you check on a patient and find out what’s going on?” he asked suddenly, pointing to the closed door in front of them.
“Sure.” She glanced toward the crowded waiting area. “Is the patient a family member?”
He shook his head. “No. It’s a woman I was having dinner with. She fainted.”
Giving him a contemplative look, Meg turned toward the door he’d indicated. “I’ll find out what I can.”
He waited for what seemed an eternity before the door finally opened. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked, his guilt increasing as he faced Meg. Her expression gave nothing away and only served to heighten his anxiety.
If he’d caused whatever Elena had been suffering from earlier in the evening to worsen by insisting she go to dinner with him he’d never forgive himself.
“As long as she takes it easy she should be fine.” Meg smiled knowingly. “They’re getting ready to release her as soon as the attending physician prescribes medication for the nausea. But your job is going to be to see that she starts eating regular meals and getting more rest. It’s important for everyone, but even more so for someone in Ms. Delgado’s condition.”
“Okay.” He’d agree to anything, if it would make up for his colossal lack of sensitivity.
Meg’s expression turned serious. “If she doesn’t, she’ll lose the baby, Brett.”
“The baby,” he repeated dumbly.
“Yes, the baby.” Meg’s beeper went off, and after checking the tiny screen, she smiled. “I’ve got to run.” She touched his arm, her face filled with understanding. “Look, Brett, she’s very upset and scared to death that she’ll have a miscarriage. I can tell she and the baby mean a lot to you. Just take good care of them and everything should be fine.”
“Me?” Brett opened and closed his mouth several times in an attempt to make his vocal chords work. “I didn’t— I mean, I’m not—”
“Relax. You’ll be a great father.” Meg turned to walk away. “Good luck to the three of you.”
Astounded, Brett watched the woman disappear around a corner, then looked at the closed door in front of him. Meg thought Elena’s baby was his.
The assumption that he was the father was almost laughable. For that matter it held true of his being the father of anyone’s baby.
He shook his head as he waited for Elena. If the truth came out, most of the society gossips would be shocked right down to the soles of their feet. Brett Connelly might have been seen dining or attending a social function with several different women, but he hadn’t been seeing anyone steadily for the past six months. And beside being extremely careful to take the proper precautions when he was with a woman, it had been more than a year since he’d had sex.
Fear clawed at every fiber of Elena’s being, and tears blurred her vision as she slowly got dressed. One thought kept running through her mind. She couldn’t lose this baby. She just couldn’t. Having already suffered two miscarriages during her disastrous marriage, this was her last hope for a child of her own.
She took a deep breath