A Very Special Delivery. Myrna Mackenzie

>

      

      “Be careful. Don’t marry someone just to give your daughter a father,”

      Mick warned.

      Laura looked surprised. “I don’t intend to marry at all.”

      Mick’s eyes seemed to turn fiercer than before, but he only gave her a quick nod. He gently touched her baby’s cheek, then he took Laura’s hand in his and studied it, as if remembering the hours they’d spent with their fingers linked.

      Carefully he curled Laura’s fingers closed. “Sleep,” he whispered. “Rest. Have a good life.”

      Laura watched him disappear. Mick wasn’t the first man who’d walked out of her life. Her father had walked away many times. Her baby’s father had left. So she shouldn’t feel sad to see Mick leave. Heavens, she didn’t even know him! Even so, he wasn’t a man she would easily forget.

      “I hope there’s nothing to this imprinting thing, sweetie,” Laura crooned to her child. “Don’t go getting attached to Mick. Just don’t.”

      Maitland Maternity: The Prodigal Children

      The Inheritance by Marie Ferrarella

      Silhouette Single Title

      A Very Special Delivery by Myrna Mackenzie

      SR #1540

      The Missing Maitland by Stella Bagwell

      SR #1546

      A Very Special Delivery

      Myrna Mackenzie

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MYRNA MACKENZIE,

      winner of the Holt Medallion honoring outstanding literary talent, has always been fascinated by the belief that within every man is a hero, and inside every woman lives a heroine. She loves to write about ordinary people making extraordinary dreams come true. A former teacher, Myrna lives in the suburbs of Chicago with her husband—who was her high school sweetheart—and her two sons. She believes in love, laughter, music, vacations to the mountains, watching the stars, anything unattached to the words physical fitness and letting dust balls gather where they may. Readers can write to Myrna at P.O. Box 225, LaGrange, IL 60525-0225.

      THE MAITLANDS:

      MEGAN MAITLAND:

      Matriarch of the Maitland family. Her life had been filled with sorrow, excitement and joy. Once she was reunited with her long-lost son, she’d thought all would be well. But now strange things were happening at her clinic, and she wasn’t sure who was behind the mystery. Was her dream of a maternity clinic going to fail?

      JANELLE MAITLAND:

      The oldest of black sheep Robert Maitland’s children. Ambitious and grasping, she’d stolen and blackmailed and lied to gain the Maitland money. She’d been captured and sent to jail, but she has broken out. Could she be behind the incidents? And was she representative of all the prodigal Maitlands?

      RAFE MAITLAND:

      The youngest of Robert’s children. Hardworking rancher. He’d always lived life alone, but in the past few months he’d acquired a daughter—and a wife! Now he would do anything to protect his family….

      LAURA MAITLAND:

      Robert’s third child. Vulnerable new mother. She’d swallowed her pride to ask for help with her child. She’d vowed never to depend on another man again, but Mick Hannon was very hard to resist….

      LUKE MAITLAND:

      Robert’s second child. Even investigative reporter Blossom Woodward couldn’t find anything out about his past. Or his future…

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter One

      “I—I’m sorry, but I think I’ve waited too long. Please help me. I’m going to have my baby. Right now.”

      The soft, shaky words caught Mick Hannon’s attention and he spun from where he’d been reviewing a set of blueprints outside Austin’s Maitland Maternity clinic to see a pale, delicate woman with long brown hair swaying on her feet. Her eyes were wide with distress, her arms cradled her abdomen. She was staring beseechingly at one of the gardeners who’d been trimming the bushes at this end of the long drive.

      Just at that moment, the woman sucked in a deep breath and a low moan spilled from her pale lips. Her knees began to buckle.

      The unfortunate gardener’s eyes went round and scared. He didn’t move.

      “Hell,” Mick said, and he threw off his hard hat and rushed forward, slipping his hand behind the woman’s back to support her as she began to slide downward.

      “Easy, darlin’,” he crooned kneeling as he helped her to sit down. “Easy, now. We’ll get you inside where the doctors will take care of you.” With his arm looped around her, the silk of her hair drifted against his neck, soft and smelling of flowers. In spite of her condition, she felt as light as froth. But as she leaned her weight against his shoulder, she stiffened, and he felt the tension of her body against his side. The contraction rippled through her, tightening her slender arms and legs. He looked straight into huge green eyes glazed with pain. A light sheen of perspiration had dampened a few strands of her hair, making them catch against her lips.

      A sense of panic and urgency filled him. This might be a maternity clinic, but he was only here to add a wing to the building. Pregnant women and babies were outside the realm of what he knew or wanted to know.

      “I’m—all right,” she said as if she’d read his very thoughts, and he wondered if he’d spoken without realizing it. “Don’t worry. This is—the way all women do it, I think. It’s supposed to hurt.” But her teeth sank into her lip and all he could think was that it wasn’t fair that a woman this tiny should have to bear a pain this big for a baby that would come back in sixteen years and break her heart fifty thousand times.

      He slid in closer, meaning to lift her, hoping it was the right thing to do and that he wouldn’t hurt her.

      But she shook her head slightly, gasping. “I think— I think maybe I should get up and walk. All the books tell you to walk,” she said in a strained voice the size of a field mouse.

      Mick duly noted her need to be in control of her situation. He also noted how pale her skin was against her dark lashes. Gently, he adjusted his grip on her, trying to make her more comfortable, as she struggled to rise.

      “Shh. Be still. You can walk later,” he suggested. “After the doctors say it’s all right.”

      And right then, her body quivered and tightened and he could tell the roll of pain was gathering speed and depth. Her teeth clicked together as she held on to the scream he was sure she needed to give vent to.

      “Hold on,” he said gruffly, trying not to jostle her and hurt her any more than she already was. “I’ll get a doctor. Don’t move.” Carefully he helped her to settle back against one of the pillars of the clinic’s entrance, then dashed off to find help.

      The doors of the clinic slid back with an electric swish,