The Midwife's Glass Slipper / Best For the Baby. Karen Rose Smith

      Francesca shook her head. “When chemistry turned into more than a science experiment. See you later.”

      Emily had to smile at her friend’s assessment of the situation. She took off her jacket and was about to hang it in the closet when the telephone rang. Crossing to the cordless phone beside the sofa, she picked up the handset and checked the caller ID. It was Jared.

      “Hello,” she said, not knowing what to expect.

      “Emily, it’s Jared.”

      “I know.”

      “What would we do without caller ID?” he teased lightly. “At least you picked up. That’s a good sign.”

      “A good sign for what?”

      The silence on his end almost made her wish she hadn’t asked. Then he replied, “I’ve been thinking about last night. I couldn’t get it off my mind all day.”

      She waited.

      “You were right. There is a connection between us and I’m not sure it’s one I want.”

      “That’s why you called?”

      She heard him blow out a breath. “I’m not doing this very well. Just let me say I’m not calling because I need help with the girls.”

      “I don’t mind helping you, Jared.”

      “I know. But now I’d like to do something that doesn’t involve them.”

      Was he going to ask her on a date? “Like what?”

      “There’s a charity banquet and dance at the Rayburn Hotel on Saturday evening.”

      “Yes, I know. I was planning to go with friends.”

      “How would you like to go with me instead?”

      Actually, she’d been planning to tag along with Vince and Tessa.

      “Would your friends mind if you changed your plans?” he cut in before she could think it through.

      “No, I don’t suppose they would. I’d been planning to sit with Tessa Rossi and her husband, Vince. Maybe the four of us could share a table, unless you had something else in mind.”

      “No, I didn’t.”

      “If you’d rather sit with Dr. Pratt or Dr. Layman…” Those were the two men who shared Jared’s practice.

      “Larry Pratt isn’t going, and Tom is sitting with the hospital board. The thing is, Emily, I’m not asking you because this is a hospital function.”

      “Why are you asking me?” she inquired softly, not wanting to put him on the spot but needing to know.

      “I’d like to spend some time with you alone, away from my daughters, away from the practice. I realized—” He stopped. “I realized what I said last night might have hurt you, and I never meant to do that. Although it’s no excuse, I haven’t had a personal life for a long time.”

      “So this is a date?”

      “Yes, it’s a date. Are you accepting?”

      “I’m accepting.”

      “Good.”

      She thought she could hear a smile in his voice. Thank goodness she had the rest of the week to think about what to wear. She might have to go shopping!

      “That’s settled, then. Dinner starts at eight. I’ll pick you up around seven fifteen. Is that okay?”

      “That’s fine.”

      “I’m glad you’re going with me, Emily. I really mean that.”

      “I’m glad I’m going, too.”

      After he said good-bye and hung up, Emily couldn’t keep from smiling. In fact, she felt like singing. She was definitely going to wait up for Francesca tonight and tell her her news.

      Francesca knocked at the door of the saddle shop, her palms sweating. Grady had told her to come around back and park there in the small lot. It was well-lit. She wasn’t afraid of getting mugged.

      What was she afraid of?

      Seeing Grady again? Feeling the attraction that had tumbled them into intimacy? Here was where it had happened—in his office on the blue-denim couch.

      Pushing the images out of her head, she knocked sharply on the door again. There was a dim light inside, a brighter one to the right…in his office.

      He opened the door and one look into his deep blue eyes told her he, too, was remembering everything that had happened here. He had coal-black hair that she had run her fingers through. He had broad shoulders that had felt so muscled under her hands. He had a stubbled jaw and that stubble had felt—

      “Come on in,” he invited her with a Texas drawl that should have seemed ordinary, but wasn’t.

      Her mouth went as dry as the west Texas dirt.

      She followed him inside, inhaling the scents of leather, wood, other materials he used for his custom-made saddles. She didn’t pay any attention to the worktables, the bench that Grady had told her his dad had handcrafted for him. Rather she followed Grady into that small lit room.

      He went behind his desk and sat in the high-back chair. She didn’t sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Instead she stayed standing. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

      He leaned back, making the chair squeak. “Take all the time you want. I’m not really thrilled with returning to the bookwork program on my computer.”

      To Grady’s right, a cursor blinked on a ledgerlike screen.

      There was no point in making small talk. That wasn’t why she had come. “I’m pregnant.”

      The two words hung suspended in the air between them.

      “Are you saying the baby’s mine?”

      She had never imagined he’d doubt that when she told him. “Of course the baby’s yours. You’re the only man I’ve slept with in a year. But if you don’t believe me, then we don’t have anything to talk about.” She turned, ready to leave, almost eager to leave.

      But Grady shot out of his desk chair, was around his desk, and grabbing her elbow. “Hold on there. It was just a question.”

      Gazing into his eyes, she realized it was a question he’d had to ask. After all, they didn’t know each other.

      “We used a condom,” she said lamely, knowing that form of contraception was usually reliable but not foolproof.

      Grady sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Yes, we did, but it was a condom I’ve had in my wallet for a while.”

      “It could have broken?”

      “Possibly. Or you could have gotten pregnant before I put it on.”

      She felt heat crawl into her cheeks. There had been foreplay—teasing foreplay as she’d never experienced before.

      Completely aware of his hand on her arm, the tingles dancing up and down, she pulled out of his grasp and had to make something clear. “I don’t want anything from you, Grady. We’d already decided seeing each other again would be a mistake. This doesn’t change that.”

      “The heck it doesn’t.” His drawl had become more pronounced with each word. “I’m going to want a DNA test after the baby’s born.”

      Her heart lurched. She did not want a relationship, especially not with a man who couldn’t trust. The idea of getting involved again, getting penned up, trapped, controlled, almost made her panic.

      He must have seen the look in her eye because he asked, “What’s wrong?”

      “I’m