Prince Charming in Dress Blues Read Free

Frowning, she said, “Fine. We’ll each say the owner’s name at the same time.”
    A short laugh shot from his throat. “What is this? Second grade?”
    She ignored that. “On the count of three. One…two…three.”
    “Peter.”
    “Lisa.”
    They stared at each other. As the reality of what must have happened sunk in, Annie asked, “Peter loaned you the cabin?”
    “Yep,” he said, nodding. “And Lisa did the same for you?”
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
    Another, sharper pain poked at her spine, and Annie winced as she sat up and swung her legs off the edge of the bed. Shooting him a long look, she said, “Well, Peter obviously made a mistake, and you should go.”
    “I was here first.”
    “Now who’s in second grade?” she demanded.
    “Lady…”
    “And stop calling me lady in that tone.”
    “What tone?”
    One blond eyebrow lifted into a high arch. “That tone that says, ‘calm down crazy person.’”
    He frowned and straightened away from the door. “That’s not what I meant.”
    She winced as another ripple of pain unwound inside her, this time rolling from the base of her spine all the way around her immense belly and back again. Not now, she silently pleaded with the baby. For pity’s sake, give Mommy a break.
    John took half a step forward and stopped dead. She still didn’t trust him, he knew, so she wouldn’t want him offering to catch her when she fainted.
    And she was going to faint, he thought. Or worse. His mouth dried up and his throat tightened. He’d watched a wave of pain overtake her. Could actually see it grabbing her, tensing her body. Her small, oval-shaped face went so white her pale-blond eyebrows actually stood out in sharp relief against their colorless background.
    His gaze dropped briefly to her swollen belly, and John frantically wished himself into the middle of a firefight somewhere. Hell, he’d take flying bullets, exploding mortars and hand grenades anyday…anything had to be better than being stuck in a tiny cabin with a woman about to go into labor.
    Just thinking the word labor sent his stomach on a sharp plunge to his feet. At last he understood the expression a sinking feeling. It was kind of like stepping unknowingly into the La Brea Tar Pits. Every move you made only sucked you in deeper. There was no escape. Just the inevitable. The only question was, how long would it take you to go down?
    “Are you all right?” he asked, hoping to God she’d say, Sure. Just a little toothache.
    “Do I look all right?” she asked, lifting her head long enough to slide him a glare that should have toasted him on the spot.
    “Actually,” he said, with an inward sigh, “no.”
    Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Gee, thanks.”
    Then she groaned and clapped one hand to her middle.
    All the air left John’s lungs.
    “C’mon, sweetie,” she murmured, smoothing one hand up and down over her stomach, “not now, okay?”
    “It’s labor, isn’t it?” he asked when he’d managed to suck more air into his body.
    She laughed shortly. “Well, I’ve never done this before, so I can’t be sure, but yeah. That’s my guess. I’ve been having a backache all day but the pain seems to be coming every few minutes now.”
    “Swell.”
    The little blonde shot him a bland look. “Gee, I’m sorry to inconvenience you.”
    Shame swamped him. Here he was thinking about himself, when this woman was about to make a new human being. Well, hell, you couldn’t blame a guy, could you? He’d come to this cabin for a little peace and quiet. Not to be the first Marine midwife in history.
    “I think you should take me to the closest hospital,” she said, scooting carefully off the bed.
    If only he could. “There’s a problem.”
    “Problem?” she echoed as she tried to slip her right foot back into a sadly misshapen loafer.
    “We’re not going anywhere,” he said and watched realization dawn on her face with each of his words. Damn, it cost him to break this