Cassie Miles

Mommy Midwife


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followed in her wake, watching the sway of her hips under her purple scrubs. Pregnant women didn’t usually excite him, but he had an overpowering urge to caress her and hold her miraculous body against his.

      Inside the cabin, she dropped her satchel-size purse on the green plaid sofa and peeled off her light sweater. Her breasts were full and ripe. Troy suppressed a growl. “How are you feeling?”

      “I’ll ask the questions,” she said as she turned to the left and strode into the kitchen. Striding didn’t exactly describe the way she moved. She rolled a bit from side to side as though she were walking on the deck of a ship.

      She turned on the water and reached for a glass from the cabinet to the right of the sink. “First question. How did you know where to find me?”

      “Wasn’t hard. I called the hospital where you usually work and found out you were there. When I pulled into the parking lot and didn’t see your car, I came here.” He paused. “The nurse told me that you were with a mom who was having triplets. How did that work out?”

      “Amazing. That word is overused. People say everything is amazing, but this really was. Truly a miracle.” Her grin was pure happiness. “Next question. What are you doing here?”

      He was sick and tired of popping the question that was always answered with an emphatic no. “I wanted to see you.”

      “Why?”

      “Since we’re playing a question game,” he said, “I have one for you. One I’ve never asked before.”

      She took another sip of water and eyed him suspiciously. “All right. Shoot.”

      “When you found out you were pregnant, what made you decide to keep the baby?”

      “Dumb question,” she said. “I love babies and always planned to have a family. Plus, I’m thirty, which is a good age for a healthy pregnancy. And you played a part in my decision.”

      “Did I?”

      “Of course,” she said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, look at you. You’re physically healthy and fairly intelligent. I’d have to say that you’re an excellent candidate to be a sperm donor.”

      “Gee, thanks.”

      She crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator and reached for the handle. Her hand dropped to her side. Frozen, she stared at the white refrigerator door where dozens of photographs were attached with magnets.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “There was a photo of me, my sister and our parents on a vacation we took last year. It’s missing.”

      “Are you certain?”

      She pointed to a vacant space on the refrigerator door. “It was right here. And it’s gone. Someone was in my cabin.”

       Chapter Two

      After Troy got down on his hands and knees to check around the edges of the cabinets and the floor where a photo might have fallen, he was ready to believe her. An intruder or intruders had entered her cabin and stolen a picture from the fridge. Why bother? A straightforward burglary would have made more sense.

      “I want you to look around,” he said. “See if anything else was taken, maybe jewelry or documents.”

      “I don’t have any valuable jewelry.”

      “A family photo doesn’t have any intrinsic value, either. Just take a look.”

      He followed her as she quickly rifled through a small jewelry box in her bedroom. In the living room, she sat at her desk and started sorting through the file drawers.

      His thoughts focused on risk assessment. On intelligence missions, he was accustomed to walking into a situation and determining the course of action. He needed to know why her house had been broken into. If he figured out what the bad guys wanted, he’d know how far they’d go to get it.

      “Was there anything unusual in that photo?” he asked.

      “Not really. We were standing in the backyard at my sister’s house in Denver.”

      “Who took the picture?”

      “My sister’s boyfriend.”

      “Tell me about the background. And the clothing.”

      Olivia squinted as she remembered. “It was at a family barbecue last summer. There was a blue spruce behind us. We were all dressed casual. My dad had on a god-awful pair of plaid shorts. He’s tall and has really skinny legs. Like a stork.”

      He nodded. Actually, he’d learned a great deal about her parents. The life history of Richard and Sharon Laughton made for interesting reading, especially for someone like Troy who had a high security clearance. “Can you think of any reason someone would steal this particular picture?”

      “It was just us. The Laughton family at play.”

      The obvious answer was that the photo would be used for identification. Though pregnancy had vastly altered her appearance, she still resembled the woman in the photo.

      Troy had only one other clue: the footprint in the garage. Why would the intruder have gone into her garage other than to search? A lightbulb went on in his head. The bad guys were hiding in the garage, setting an ambush. “I know what’s going on.”

      “Oh, good.” She swiveled in the chair behind her desk and looked up at him. “Because I can’t find anything missing in my documents. Most of my confidential stuff is on my laptop computer, and I took that with me to the hospital.”

      “The intruder or intruders were in your garage, waiting for you to come home.”

      Her hand fluttered to her mouth, covering a frightened gasp. “Do you think they were there when I pulled up?”

      “It’s possible.” Troy cursed himself for not searching the garage first. He could have ended this before it escalated.

      “Why? What do they want?”

      “Nothing is missing. So I’m guessing that their intention wasn’t robbery.”

      “Then what?”

      “They wanted to take...you.”

      She looked away from him, shielding her gaze as though she had something to hide. “A kidnap attempt.”

      “You don’t seem too surprised.”

      “I’ve had a feeling for the past couple of days.” Her hands rested protectively on her belly. “It’s been like someone is watching me. Earlier tonight in the hospital parking lot, I thought I heard a gun being cocked.”

      The situation was more intense than he thought. They needed to retreat to a safe location. “You have five minutes to get packed.”

      “Kidnapping doesn’t make any sense.”

      “Later, we’ll talk. Now, get packed.”

      “No. I’m not going to leave my house until I understand.”

      He braced his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned close. Being near her was a distraction, for sure. The blue of her eyes contrasted her healthy tan and the pink flush of her cheeks. Was she glowing? Later, he’d take the time to appreciate the miraculous changes in her body. Right now, he needed for her to cooperate.

      “The standard reasons for kidnapping,” he said, “are money or leverage. The intruders want to use you and our baby to get something they want.”

      “It can’t be for ransom money. My family isn’t superrich.”

      “Your mom and dad are in Denver this weekend.”

      “How do you know that?” she demanded.

      “I’m