he exited the room, he thought she was right. He did his best to think of Laura Maitland only as an interesting incident in his day, not as a real, living, flesh-and-blood, steel-and-silk woman.
Probably no one would blame him for simply going back to his job. It was the smart thing to do. He had come to Austin for a good cause, but to accomplish his goal, he needed to remain anonymous, in the shadows. Something as unusual as a construction worker helping out in the delivery room just might attract speculation.
“Be smart, Hannon. Don’t go letting sentiment or an overabundance of testosterone lead you around. A man in your position would do well to stay far away from Laura Maitland,” he whispered to himself.
He said that. He meant it, but then he heard a low moan. Laura was having another contraction. She would be scared.
Mick shoved the door open and entered the room uninvited.
Chapter Two
When Mick Hannon strode back into the birthing room, all broad shoulders and determination, Laura’s tension level dropped several notches. His intense, blue-eyed gaze bypassed the doctor, the nurse and Megan, targeting Laura, where she now lay on the bed. She stared back as the man’s presence filled the room. He moved to her without asking anyone for permission or instruction, and the rest of the room fell away. The pain was no less. In fact, the great rolling waves biting into her were stronger than ever. Still, three seconds earlier she had doubted her ability to stay sane all the way to the end of the contraction. Now she knew that she would at least do that.
He held out his hands and she reached for the life-line. She stared into his eyes and concentrated on that deep blue flecked with silver. She breathed when he told her to breathe.
When her mind wavered and she thought she would go crazy with pain, she squeezed his hands harder and strove to blot out everything but the gravelly tones of his voice as he whispered encouragement.
“You’re amazing,” he told her, and that one statement distracted her. It was enough to keep her holding on for five seconds longer, even though she knew better than to believe the pretty lies that men offered.
Hours later, Laura took one last tired glance into Mick Hannon’s fierce blue eyes, gripped his fingers tightly, and with a cry of pain and exhaustion, pushed her child into the world and into Dr. Abby Maitland’s waiting hands.
For two seconds, there was total silence as the wonder of life renewing itself filled the room. Then a tiny, angry cry rang out.
“Thank heaven and Texas,” Mick said on a breath. He shook his head in amazement as Laura fell back against the bed and gazed tiredly up at him.
“You did it, lady,” he whispered, leaning over her, and he gently smoothed her damp hair back from her brow. “Congratulations. You brought your baby safely into the world.”
His words were so intimately low that for a moment Laura thought he was going to pull her close in a hug, or maybe he was even going to kiss her. The look in his eyes was that intense. But then the baby let out another cry and Mick took a deep, audible breath. He stopped his forward momentum and straightened to his full and considerable height.
“You’re okay, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
She tried to nod her head.
“You’re tired,” Megan said sympathetically.
“I’m okay,” Laura managed to say. “My baby. Is my baby—”
“She’s perfect,” Megan said with a soft smile. “Your daughter is so perfect. So beautiful.” Her tone was awed and reverent, as if this experience was new for her all over again. Laura noted for the first time that the woman had shed the jacket to a suit that could only have been designed by Donna Karan. Her lovely hair had grown a bit mussed. Megan had jumped right in to help, as if she were a midwife, not a CEO. Now she looked tired but pleased. Laura understood why expectant mothers flocked to her clinic.
“Isn’t this just the most precious child you’ve ever seen, Mick?” Megan was saying, and Laura turned again to look at the man, the total stranger who had helped Megan coach her through the most painful, rewarding hours of her life. For the first time she saw him clearly, not through a haze of pain. His black hair was rumpled where he’d brushed long, lean fingers through it countless times. The blue chambray of his shirt clung to his broad shoulders damply in spite of the air-conditioned room. His mouth looked incredibly soft, even as his lips parted slightly in bewildered amazement.
Laura gazed at him, waiting for his answer.
For the first time he looked…awkward. “She’s a feisty little thing,” he finally said. “And she’s definitely got all her fingers and toes. Cute little fingers and toes, too. Even some hair on her head.”
Laura wished she had the energy to laugh. She knew just how red and wrinkled and, well, not particularly beautiful most babies would seem to the average male. While she waited for the doctor and nurse to finish with her baby, she smiled her gratitude at Mick. He was trying so hard to think of something positive to say.
But then he looked at the baby again and his eyes darkened with concern. “Is she really supposed to be that tiny?” he asked Dr. Abby. “Surely not. She’s not much bigger than my cupped hands. How could anything that small cause so much trouble?”
Megan chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll cause her mother a great deal more trouble before she’s grown up. It’s one of the wonderful things children do, you know.” Laura had the feeling she meant every word.
When Dr. Maitland gave Laura her baby to cuddle close to her, Laura captured one tiny flailing hand and kissed the softness of her child’s skin. A sudden sense of wonder, of having been involved in a small miracle, of having been given a gift too overwhelmingly generous for anyone to ever deserve, filled her. Unbelievable as it seemed, this baby had come from her, from inside her own body. This vulnerable, amazing child was hers to keep and care for and love. From a relationship that had ended ugly, from an experience that had threatened to overpower her, had come this amazing, sweet little being. Gratitude filled her soul.
She looked up into Mick’s dark blue eyes. He was gazing at her and her daughter intensely, with a sense of awe and disbelief that rivaled her own, and with an unmistakable air of…reservation. As if he wanted to move closer and edge away at the same time.
Laura smiled at him. She held out her free hand. “Thank you for helping me,” she said weakly. “I was pretty scared there for a while, I think.”
He shook his head. “You were pretty brave, I think, and no thanks are needed. You were the one who did all the work.”
He took a deep breath and now she was absolutely sure that he wanted to step away, that now that the crisis had passed he wanted to get out of here fast. Well, he’d definitely earned his freedom. He probably had plenty of important tasks waiting for him, maybe even a woman wondering where he was. Of course he would have a woman, and of course there was no reason for him to have to stay any longer, but she couldn’t let him go without letting him know just how important his presence had been.
She reached out and took one of his big callused hands, turning it over. In spite of her exhaustion or maybe because of it, a frisson of sensation spiraled down her arm and headed straight through her body when her skin met his. Strange that she should react to the man now when she’d been gripping these same hands for hours, thinking only that they represented safety and strength. Small red indentations marred his palms.
“You let me dig my fingernails into you, and you didn’t complain,” she said softly. “The guys on the crew are sure going to wonder what you’ve been doing.” Exhausted as she was, she wanted to do this right. She knew that once he walked out that door, his part in her life would be past. But it had been such an important part. She wanted him to leave feeling good about this experience, not uncomfortable. He’d teased her earlier when she’d been embarrassed. How could she do any less?
“No problem. I’ll just tell them I’ve been wrestling with