Mountain Midwife. Cassie Miles

       “The blizzard will keep anybody from searching for us.”

      When she turned toward him, he didn’t back away.

      “I wanted you to know. I’m one of the good guys, and I’m not going to hurt you.”

      She’d heard that promise before. Other men had assured her that they wouldn’t break her heart. The smart thing would be to step away, to put some distance between them. But they were awfully close. And he was awfully good looking.

      In spite of her resolution to steer clear of dangerous men, gently, she reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. His stubble bristled under her fingers. Electricity crackled between them.

      His hand clasped her waist as his head lowered. His lips were firm. He used exactly the right amount of pressure for a perfect kiss.

      She pulled away from him and opened her eyes. His smile was warm. His eyes, inviting. Perfect! Of course! Guys like Cole—men who lived on the edge—made the best lovers.

      “That was good,” she said.

      “I can do better.”

      About the Author

      Though born in Chicago and raised in LA, CASSIE MILES has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.

      After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

      Mountain

      Midwife

      Cassie Miles

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Here’s to my buddy, Cheryl.

      And, as always, to Rick.

      Chapter One

      Some babies are yanked into the world, kicking and screaming. Others gasp. Others fling open their little arms and grab. Every infant is unique. Every birth, a miracle.

      Rachel Devon loved being a midwife.

      She smiled down at the newborn swaddled in her arms. The baby girl—only two hours old—stared at the winter sunlight outside the cabin window. What would she be when she grew up? Where would she travel? Would she find love? Good luck with that, sweet girl. I’m still looking.

      Returning to the brass bed where the mom lay in a state of euphoric exhaustion, Rachel announced, “She’s seven pounds, six ounces.”

      “Totally healthy? Nothing to worry about?”

      “A nine-point-five on the Apgar scale. You did good, Sarah.”

      “We did. You and me and Jim and …” Sarah frowned. “We still haven’t decided on the baby’s name.”

      Voices rose from the downstairs of the two-story log house near Shadow Mountain Lake. Moments ago, someone else had arrived, and Rachel hoped the visitor hadn’t blocked her van in the circular driveway. After guiding Sarah through five hours of labor, aiding in the actual birth and taking another two hours with cleanup and postpartum instruction, Rachel was anxious to get home. “It’s time for me to go. Should I invite whoever is downstairs to come up here?”

      “Jim’s mother.” Sarah pushed her hair—still damp from the shower—off her forehead. “I’d like a bit more time alone. Would you mind introducing the baby to her grandma?”

      “My pleasure. If you need anything over the next few days, call the Rocky Mountain Women’s Clinic. I’ll be on vacation, but somebody can help you. And if you really need to talk to me, I can be reached.”

      Sarah offered a tired smile. “I apologize in advance for anything Jim’s mother might say.”

      “That sounds ominous.”

      “Let’s just say there was a reason we didn’t want Katherine here during labor.”

      Rachel descended the staircase and handed the baby girl to her grandmother, who had positioned herself in a rocking chair beside the moss rock fireplace. With her bright red hair and sleek figure, Katherine seemed too young to be a granny.

      After a moment of nuzzling the baby, she shot Rachel a glare. “I wasn’t in favor of this, you know. In my day, this wasn’t the way we had babies.”

       Really? In your day, were babies delivered by stork?

      Katherine continued, “Sarah should have been in a hospital. What if there had been complications?”

      “Everything was perfect.” Jim Loughlin reached down and fondly stroked his baby’s rosy cheek. His hands were huge. A big, muscular guy, Jim was a deputy with the Grand County sheriff’s department. “We wanted a home birth, and Rachel had everything under control.”

      Skeptically, Katherine looked her up and down. “I’m sorry, dear, but you’re so young.”

      “Thirty-one,” Rachel said.

      “Oh my, I would have guessed eight years younger. The pixie hairdo is very flattering with your dark hair.”

      Her age and her hairstyle had nothing to do with her qualifications, and Rachel was too tired to be tactful. “If there had been complications, I would have been prepared. My training as a certified nurse-midwife is the equivalent of a master’s degree in nursing. Plus, I was an EMT and ambulance driver. I’m a real good person to have around in any sort of medical emergency.”

      Katherine didn’t give up. “Have you ever lost a patient?”

      “Not as a midwife.” A familiar ache tightened her gut. Rescuing accident victims was a whole other story—one she avoided thinking about.

      “Leave Rachel alone,” Jim said. “We have something else to worry about. The baby’s name. Which do you like? Caitlyn, Chloe or Cameron?”

      His mother sat up straight. “Katherine is a nice name. Maybe she’ll have red hair like me.”

      Rachel eased her way toward the door. Her work here was done. “I’m going to grab my coat and head out.”

      Jim rushed over and enveloped her in a bear hug. “We love you, Rachel.”

      “Back at you.”

      This had been a satisfying home birth—one she would remember with pleasure. Midwifery was so much happier than emergency medicine. She remembered Katherine’s question. Have you ever lost a patient? Though she knew that not everyone was meant to survive, her memories of victims she couldn’t save haunted her.

      As she stepped outside onto the porch, she turned up the fur-lined collar of her subzero parka. Vagrant snowflakes melted as they hit her cheeks. She’d already brushed the snow off the windshield and repacked her equipment in the back of the panel van with the Rocky Mountain Women’s Clinic logo on the side. Ready to roll, Rachel got behind the steering wheel and turned on the windshield wipers.

      Heavy snow clouds had begun to blot out the sun. The weatherman was predicting a blizzard starting tonight or tomorrow morning. She wanted to hurry home to her condo in Granby, about forty-five minutes away. Skirting around Katherine’s SUV, she drove carefully down the steep driveway to a two-lane road that hadn’t been plowed since early this morning. There were other tire tracks in the snow, but not many.

      After a sharp left, she drove a couple hundred yards