The Cattleman's Special Delivery Read Free

helpful if you could fetch the Flying Doctors’ medical chest. It’s at the back of the pantry.’
    The old man seemed reluctant to leave, but his son made a shooing gesture and, finally, he hobbled away.
    Reece turned to Jess. ‘You need to get out of these wet clothes.’
    She was wearing a loose top over maternity trousers and, yes, they were wet, but the rest of her clothes were in a suitcase in the back of the car. ‘I don’t have anything else to change into.’
    ‘You can wear one of my shirts.’ Already he was opening a wardrobe, slipping a pale blue cotton shirt from a hanger. It looked almost big enough to serve as a nightgown.
    His dark eyes were warm as he held it out to her. ‘Can you manage?’
    ‘Yes, thanks.’ She would have to manage. She certainly didn’t want a handsome stranger helping her to undress, thank you very much. She knew very well that it would be a bachelor’s worst nightmare to help a strange woman in an advanced state of pregnancy out of her clothes.
    ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said to make sure he understood. But the words were no sooner out than she felt as if the bottom half of her were being wrenched away from her with massive force. She only just had time to grab to the bedpost before her knees gave way.
    ‘Oh, God!’ Seized by an overwhelming urge to bear down, she slumped against the post and clung for dear life. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she moaned. ‘I think the baby’s coming!’
    And then her waters broke.

CHAPTER TWO
    T HE baby couldn’tbe coming already.
    Reece stared at Jess in dismay. If she’d looked scared before, she now looked terrified, and he couldn’t blame her. He was terrified too. This was way outside his experience. Weren’t first babies supposed to take hours and hours to arrive?
    He’d been confident that his job was to keep Jess comfortable until the Flying Doctor or the ambulance arrived—assuming that at least one of them could make it in this weather.
    The poor girl.
    Reece remembered her husband slumped over the steering wheel. If ever Jess Cassidy had needed her husband’s support it was now.
    ‘How can I stop this?’ she moaned.
    You can’t, he wanted to tell her, and he wished he weren’t so clueless. He’d only delivered calves—mostly with a rope tied around the calf’s hoof and his boot planted squarely on the mother’s hindquarter to gain leverage. That sure as hell wasn’t going to work here.
    ‘Maybe, if you lie down there’ll be less pressure,’ he suggested.
    ‘That makes sense. I’ll try anything.’
    In this light, she looked little more than a girl, with her slender, pale limbs and long, dark hair hanging in limp, damp strands. Her thickly lashed eyes were green or grey—he couldn’t be sure of their exact colour—and her nose was fine and slim, in contrast with the pink roundness of her soft mouth. In her wet, bedraggled clothes, she looked frail and helpless.
    A wayside waif. In desperate need of his help.
    He’d never felt more inadequate.
    ‘You’ll have to get out of these wet clothes,’ he suggested.
    This time Jess seemed ready to submit to his assistance and Reece held his breath as he helped her out of her shirt. It wasn’t the first time he’d undressed a woman, although most of the women in his experience were very adept at slipping out of their gear.
    This time was so very different, and he had to perform the delicate task with the dispassionate detachment of a medical practitioner.
    Not so easy when Jess’s skin was moon pale and smooth as sifted flour and when her body was lush and ripe with the fullness of her pregnancy. She was lovely. Earthy. Madonna-like. With an unexpected fragile beauty that could catch a man totally unprepared.
    He was aware of her distress, however, and he worked quickly as, between them, they eased her maternity slacks down. He rubbed her back and legs dry with a fresh towel while she took care of her front. Then he squeezed moisture from her hair and rubbed at it