A Baby Before Dawn

“What? No guns or bombs?”

 

 

“This ought to do the trick.” He stepped out of the closet, a dispenser of antibacterial soap in one hand, a small, portable shop light in the other, and a towel slung over his shoulder.

 

“Must be our lucky day,” she said dryly.

 

“Battery-powered shop light to the rescue.” Glancing up, he stepped onto one of the chairs and hooked the light onto a darkened overhead fixture. He flipped it on and bright light rained down. “Like I said, all the comforts of home.”

 

“If you don’t mind living in a cave.”

 

His eyes were sober when they landed on Lily. “I need to take a look at that cut, then I’ll let you get some rest.”

 

“I’m a nurse and perfectly capable of—”

 

“Let me do this.” As if realizing his harsh tone, he glanced away, his expression softening. “I need to make sure you’re all right.”

 

The cut on her leg was the last thing that worried Lily. Exhaustion and the now constant pain in her lower back overshadowed the sting of the wound. But Lily knew there was more to her resistance than the minor nature of the cut. As a nurse, she knew even a shallow gash could become infected if left untreated. But in order for Chase to administer first aid, he would have to touch her. He would have to put his hands on her thigh.

 

That kind of closeness was the last thing Lily needed to contend with. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, every time Chase touched her something seemed to short-circuit in her brain. The last time, they’d ended up naked on the floor of her apartment.

 

Stopping the errant thoughts cold, she sighed. That was the past, she reminded herself. She’d loved him once, but no more. Lily had her baby to think of now.

 

“Nothing personal, Lily, but you’re going to have to lose the pants.”

 

His voiced jerked her from her reverie. Lily looked up to see Chase standing over her, a small pail in one hand, a soap dispenser and roll of paper towels in the other.

 

She stared at him, his words ringing in her head like the lyrics of some annoying song. “Not in this lifetime,” she heard herself say.

 

“Maybe this will help…” Never taking his eyes from hers, Chase set the items on the table and proceeded to take off his shirt.

 

An alarm shot through Lily as the dark thatch of chest hair and a six-pack abdomen loomed into view. “Wh-what are you doing?”

 

“Protecting your modesty.”

 

“By taking off your shirt?”

 

One side of his mouth quirked. “You can tie it around your waist, keep yourself covered.”

 

“Oh.” Her alarm subsided, but it was only a temporary reprieve. As he worked the shirt from his shoulders, her eyes took on a life of their own. She got the impression of hard-as-rock muscle and tried not to think of all the times he’d held her with those arms or all the times she’d run her fingers over his skin.

 

Then she spotted the wound just above his bicep and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Chase. That’s no graze. For God’s sake, it looks bad.”

 

He handed her his shirt. “Take off your pants or I’ll take them off for you.”

 

“Fine.” Exasperated with him, with the situation, with herself, she yanked the shirt from his grasp. “Turn around.”

 

He did as she asked.

 

Untying the drawstring waist, she stepped out of her scrub pants, then quickly wrapped his shirt around her bulging waist. “You can turn around.”

 

She didn’t miss the quick sweep of his gaze or the way his expression darkened when his eyes paused on her abdomen. He stared and for a moment she thought he would ask to touch her belly, but he didn’t.

 

“Sit on the table,” he said. “Put your feet on the chair.”

 

Lily scooted onto the table and set both feet on the chair, careful to keep her panties and the tops of her thighs covered by his shirt. She knew it was silly to worry about something as trivial as modesty during a crisis, especially when she’d been intimate with this man on more than one occasion. But being pregnant and determined not to repeat the mistakes of her past, Lily had no intention of letting down her guard.

 

Without speaking, he approached, his attention focused on the cut. “Looks like you could have used a couple of stitches.”

 

“Like I’m going to let you stick a needle in me.”

 

He didn’t smile. Instead, he settled into one of the chairs and reached for the pail of water and the soap dispenser. “I guess we’ll just have to make do with a bandage.”

 

Up until now, Lily hadn’t gotten a good look at the cut. In relation to her other discomforts, the cut had barely rated on the pain scale. Judging from the stain on her pants, though, it had bled plenty. The wound looked deep, with the flesh laid open the width of her little finger.

 

“Think you can butterfly it?” she asked.

 

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