Secret Baby Romance

Cameron’s hand stroked over Esmeralda’s stomach, noting each foot, leg, and arm of her baby resting beneath the skin. Ian had always admired Cameron’s abilities. With just the brush of her hand on a woman’s stomach, it was as if she could see beneath the skin. No matter how many times he tried, which admittedly wasn’t many, he’d never been able to do the same. As Cameron had gotten bigger in her pregnancy, he’d often rubbed his hands over her belly, trying to determine which little knobs belonged to which of their daughter’s body parts. Although he had no way to know for sure, he was fairly certain his guesses had never been accurate.

Cameron looked up, offering Esme a weak smile. “The baby is breach.”

Gasping, the other woman shook her head. “Breach? What is that?”

“It means the baby’s not head down,” Cameron explained. “You’ll likely need a cesarean.”

Esme’s eyes narrowed in a mixture of pain and confusion.

“I’ll need to remove the baby through a cut in your stomach.” Cameron tried valiantly to keep her own nerves at bay, but Ian could sense the anxiety radiating from her. She’d once been the hospital’s top OB. Had the attack in Africa robbed her of that ability?

“A cut?” Attempting to push herself up in the bed, Esme shook her head frantically. “You can’t cut me. No. The baby will come out. It will turn.” By the end, desperation almost strangled the pregnant woman.

“It’s possible with time the baby could turn,” Cameron conceded. “But we don’t have time, Es.”

Tears filled the laboring woman’s eyes. “It’s not natural. What if you cut the baby? What if . . .”

Taking her friend’s hand, Cameron explained. “Women have C-sections every day. The babies and the mothers are fine. Ara was delivered by C-section.”

Something akin to relief softened Esme’s tense face. “You… You let a doctor cut you?”

Cameron’s face drained of color. Her gaze darted away from her friend. Ian shifted from where he leaned on the wall, worried he’d need to catch her.

Gathering her composure, she nodded. “I did. It was necessary.” With one hand she lifted her T-shirt, revealing two round scars where bullets had entered her abdomen. With the other, she pushed the band of her shorts down. There, just above her pelvic bone, a thin white line indicated where a doctor had opened her.

A knot formed in Ian’s stomach. Wes had made a similar cut to remove their child. Ian had never seen the scar. By the time the wound had healed, Cameron no longer shared her body with him.

Esme’s hand seemed to move toward Cameron of its own volition. Cameron stood statue still as the other mother placed her fingertips on the scar. Ian raised his gaze to Cameron’s. A myriad of emotions played over her lovely face: misery, heartache, pain. His arms ached to pull her close. His lips longed to kiss away her vulnerability. Abruptly, Cameron stepped away, setting her clothes back in place.

“You… you can do this?” Esme’s voice shook. “You can deliver a baby like this? I’ve never seen you—”

“I have.” Until now, he’d kept silent. Although Esme seemed to like him and trust him to care for her husband, most of the women he’d encountered in villages and islands preferred to leave birthing to the female doctors. Since Cameron was by far more qualified than him, he had no problem taking a backseat to her expertise. “I’ve seen her do this on several women in conditions worse than this, on mothers not as strong and healthy as you. You couldn’t have asked for a more capable doctor.”

“Ian.” Cameron pleaded quietly.

He met her sad, worried eyes. “It’s the truth.”

Just as Esme nodded, a contraction ripped through her. She threw her head back and released an inhuman growl of pain. The monitor beside the bed beeped erratically. Adrenaline fired in Ian’s veins. He wanted, needed to act, but didn’t know what to do.

“Cam?”

She checked the monitor, then placed her hands on Esme’s rigid stomach. “Her BP is rocketing and the baby’s in distress.” Her voice hitched.

“What do you want me to do?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he took his fist under her chin and nudged it up. “Cameron. Tell me what to do to help you deliver this baby.”

As their gazes met, some of the fear melted away and her body softened.

“Put her under. We need to get the baby out. Now.” Pulling away, she rushed to the sink. “The meds are in the cabinet in the office. I’ll clean up and—”

“Cameron.” He stopped in the doorway, waiting for her to look his way. “You’ve got this. Breathe and get it done. I’m right here.”

Her chest rose, pushing against her tank top. Shoulders relaxing, she nodded. “Thank you.”

He didn’t know what had happened to make Cameron so nervous about performing this procedure. Maybe because Esme was her friend and already facing the possibility of losing her husband. Maybe because the baby was thirty-two weeks, the same as when their child had passed. Whatever the reason, he’d see that Cameron delivered this baby without incident. He’d believe in her abilities enough for both of them.

* * *

Ian stood by Brodie Hunte’s bed, watching the tiny newborn sleeping on his father’s chest. He knew enough about babies to know they benefited from skin-to-skin contact. With Cameron still working on the mother, Brodie was an excellent alternative. Besides, maybe having the tiny creature so close would somehow help the father too. Cameron had been right when she said thirty-two weeks was plenty of time to fall in love with an unborn child. The attachment was no different for fathers. Ian had loved their daughter fiercely from the first sound of her tiny beating heart. If everything he’d heard about Brodie was true, he’d bet the other man felt the same way.

When the baby became fussy, Ian picked the squirming bundle up, secured his blanket around him and held him close as he drew Brodie’s blanket back over his body. Then he bent his head and closed his eyes. Maybe he no longer believed in praying for himself, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try for someone else.

Luci turned to Ian as he entered the room Cameron had set up for Esme. The space was small, but so was the baby. While he’d visited with Brodie, Cameron had finished with the mother and cleaned everything. Looking at the room now, no one would know she’d performed an emergency cesarean only moments before. He was still in awe of how well she’d handled the entire situation. Knowing she’d been hesitant to perform the delivery herself made his amazement even richer. Watching her work with Esme, he hadn’t detected even a trace of hesitation. She’d been fierce, confident, in control… and hot as hell. He shook the thought away as he approached Luci by Esme’s side.

The older woman smiled at him, then cast her gaze on the bundle in his arms. “So tiny.”

He nodded. Four and a half pounds by his rough guess. Since the clinic didn’t have a scale sensitive enough to weigh such a small package, Ian had weighed himself both with and without the child and subtracted the difference. Other than being early and small, the baby appeared perfectly healthy. Cameron would probably assess him later. For now, she was nowhere to be found.

“I tried to clean him.” Ian explained as he handed the boy over to Luci. “I’m not great with such tiny patients though.” He gave her his best sheepish grin.

A small blush worked up the woman’s dark skin. “I’ll take care of him.” She took in Ian’s soiled clothes. “Why don’t you work on cleaning yourself up?”

Blood covered his arms and splattered his T-shirt and shorts. The clinic shower was little more than a hose with cold water and no pressure. He’d never get clean with that.

A knowing smile stretched Luci’s mouth. “There’s a stream behind the clinic. It’s deep enough to cover you if you sit. Many of us use it to clean ourselves.”

“Won’t someone see me if—”

She scoffed, her gaze raking over him from head to toe. “Looking like you, you worry someone will see?” She chuckled. “It’s dark. No one will be there. Besides, there are trees. It’s very private.”

He looked at the baby sleeping soundly in the older woman’s arms and the mother resting peacefully in bed. Neither of them needed him, and they’d probably be more comfortable without a stranger lingering.

“I’ll stay with them. They’ll likely rest until morning anyway. Take a breath, Doctor.”

Ian nodded. A “bath,” even one in a stream, sounded nice. His clothes had become stiff and the hairs on his arms were sticking as the blood dried.

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

Luci grinned. “Take your time.”

* * *

Stripping off her soiled clothes, Cameron picked her way over the sandy bank to the stream below. She rarely came to this spot, except to rinse off from the clinic. The shade provided from the trees surrounding the alcove made the water cooler here than other swimming holes on the island. For this reason, Arabella hated swimming here, but Cameron loved it. When she’d first moved to the island, she would come here to bathe and think. Then, like now, her thoughts often focused on Ian.

Before she’d slipped from the clinic, she’d spotted him standing by Brodie’s bed, his head bent over the baby he cradled in his arms. Even now, the memory made her eyes sting. She’d always believed Ian would make an excellent father. He was funny, caring, stern, but also open and loving. The man used to give the best hugs. And still did. She couldn’t remember ever feeling safer than she did in Ian’s arms. A child would be lucky to grow up with that security. Maybe if their daughter had made it out of the womb, Ian’s embrace could’ve sheltered her from the world’s horrors.

There had been tears on Ian’s face when she watched him. The sight had caused her heart to squeeze painfully and tears to fill her eyes. Had she really thought he hadn’t cried when their daughter died? Yes. Never in her life had she seen Ian shed a tear. Although she’d expected him to break as they’d sat in that hospital in Africa waiting to go home, he never had. After what she’d heard him say, she let herself believe the worst. Each day, while he sat stoically by her bedside as she fell apart, she hated him a little more. Had he really waited until he was alone to let his emotions out, so he wouldn’t upset her? Who would do that? Someone who loves you. The thought of Ian suffering through his loss in silence cracked the few still intact pieces of her heart.

She dipped below the surface of the water, letting the cold water mix with the warm tears on her cheeks.

* * *

Ian was a pervert. He could live with that. Mostly. He hadn’t sent out to ogle Cameron’s wet, naked body. But who could blame him for looking, watching, wanting? Sure, Cameron would blame him. She’d be pissed and want to rip off his growing erection. The thought didn’t bother him like it should. Not when she’d actually have to touch his dick to rip it off. He grew harder just imagining it.

He needed to get laid.

No. Getting laid wasn’t the answer. He’d tried that over the years, though only a few times, and only when the need was too great to ignore. Cameron had ruined him for simple hookups. Getting laid didn’t compare to making love. He’d only ever made love with Cam.

In the stream, Cameron rubbed her hands over her arms, scrubbing at Esme’s blood. Then those hands went to her chest, washing away the grime, cupping her breasts. Ian bit back a groan. Nothing about Cam’s actions were meant to arouse. But every-fucking-thing did. Hell, she could breathe in his direction and have him rock-hard. Watching her touch herself in the moonlight may cause him to need medical attention.

Sheis a doctor.

She disappeared under the water. Holding his breath, he waited for her to resurface. He didn’t even realize he’d inched closer to the stream until she broke the surface and gasped.

“S . . . Sorry.” He held his hands up, as if to prove he meant no harm. “Luci told me this would be a good place to clean up. I didn’t realize you’d be here.” But the other woman probably had.

Cameron slipped down into the water, so only her shoulders were visible. “It’s okay. Nothing you haven’t seen before, anyway. Right?”

Right. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t enjoyed every damn minute of watching her. Even when they’d lived together and he’d seen her naked daily, the sight of her never failed to excite him. Cameron’s beauty wasn’t something a person ever got used to.

“I can go. The shower at the clinic—”

“Sucks.” She lifted a hand from the water, waving off his concern. “I’m finished. I was just enjoying the water.” She lifted her face to the sky. The moonlight shone down on her, causing the drops of water on her skin to sparkle like diamonds. “It’s a nice night. Pretty moon.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, though he couldn’t tell her if the moon even shone. The sea goddess in front of him held all his attention.

She glided through the water, stopping at the bank. “Turn around,” she instructed.

“What if I promise not to look?” He lifted his hands to his eyes, immediately spreading his fingers to peer through.

Shaking her head, she gifted him with one of her rare, close-mouthed smiles. The gesture and the memories it evoked made his stomach tighten. She lifted a finger, motioning for him to turn.

“Spoilsport,” he grumbled.

Behind him came the sound of water as she moved toward the bank. His body ached to turn to her, to watch her rise like Aphrodite with water streaming down her body. But he wouldn’t win any points by going against her wishes and ogling her. Not to her face anyway.

“You can turn around.”

He wasted no time spinning to face her. She’d slipped a sundress over her still damp body. The linen stuck to her naked breasts. Her nipples puckered against the fabric. Biting his lip, he forced his gaze up over her curves to her face.

She twisted her hair into a knot and secured it on top of her head. “Thank you for tonight. If you hadn’t been here, I don’t know that I would’ve been able to go through with the delivery.”

“Yes, you would. You did great. I had nothing to do with that.” He hadn’t. Cameron had been completely in her element. Maybe, after so long, she’d just forgotten what an excellent doctor she was.

“I haven’t performed a cesarean in four and a half years.” She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It was my first delivery after Africa. The mother didn’t make it.”

She turned to face the water, but he doubted she saw anything.

He closed his eyes against the pain in her words. Losing a patient was never easy, but losing a mother, bringing a child into the world while its mother passed on was a different kind of hell. He could imagine how Cam’s own birth experience would have compounded the loss.

“In my head, I know I did everything I could for her. She was already in terrible shape. The surgery was basically a last-ditch effort to save the baby, but . . .” Tears shone in the light from the moon. “I always wondered if I was too focused on saving the baby. Was I so determined not to let that mother experience my loss that I overlooked something I could’ve done to save her?”

He thought she’d broken his heart years ago, but that pain didn’t hold a candle to the way her turmoil decimated the organ now.

“Oh, baby.” He drew her into his chest. “You said yourself saving her was a lost cause. You did what you could to gain the best possible outcome. “

“But—”

“No.” Pulling back, he gazed into her bright blue eyes. “You did your best. And you, of all people, know you did exactly what that mother would’ve wanted.”

Tears dripped over her lashes. If given the choice, she would’ve sacrificed herself for their daughter. She told him so daily during her recovery. But there’d been no saving their child.

“Those things you said earlier, were they true? Did you not let me see you cry so I wouldn’t be upset? Did you mourn our daughter? Alone?”

His vision blurred. “I still do.”

As her body trembled with a choked back sob, she clung to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry?” Had she really just apologized to him? “For what? You have nothing—”

“Doubting you. I should’ve known you mourned her. I’m so sorry you had to do that alone.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to fight back his own tears. He’d be lying if he told her he forgave her. Not that he didn’t think he could one day, but that wasn’t today.

“You loved her. I knew you did. Even if you…” She tried to pull away, but he held her tight.

“Even if I what?”

She stared over his shoulder. Refusing to meet his eyes.

“Cam?” He placed his hand on her chin, nudging her to face him.

“Just tell me you loved her. That you wanted her.”

A lump formed in his throat, making answering her difficult. “Of course I did,” he managed. “I loved her. I loved you. I’ve never wanted anything more than a life with you both.”

Finally meeting his eyes, she softened against him.

He threaded his fingers in her damp hair. “Tell me,” he whispered. “Tell me you still love me, Cam.” Because he could feel that love vibrating beneath the surface of her warm skin. He couldn’t be the only one suffering through their separation.

“Ian, I . . .” She shook her head.

He bent, stopping with only a breath between his mouth and hers. “I love you.” His lips brushed hers. Sparks of need flared in his veins. Tears slipped from her lashes to his cheeks. “Every day since I met you. Every day until I die. I love you. “

She gasped. Her mint-scented breath puffed across his lips. “I love you too. “

His knees almost gave away with the weight of his relief. Instead, he jerked her against him and crushed his mouth to hers. She moaned into the kiss, parting her lips. He pushed forward, tangling his tongue with hers, fitting their bodies together. This time, when his hand reached her breast, he didn’t stop. Instead, he cupped her flesh, squeezing and molding it. He brushed his thumb over her nipple.

“Ian,” she moaned.

A surge of triumph mixed with lust pumped through him. Meeting her eyes, he gripped the hem of her dress in both hands. She swallowed, her gaze never wavering, then lifted her arms. He ripped the dress over her head, dropping it to the ground. He wanted to take the time to look at her, fucking worship her, and relearn her. But need beat at him with relentless fists.

And Cam was right there with him. With her mouth back on his, she shoved his shirt up his chest. Her nails scraped over each new inch of exposed flesh. They broke apart long enough to pull the shirt over his head. As he took her mouth again, her fingers fumbled with the button of his shorts. When her fingers brushed over his erection, he sucked in a breath. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to erupt in his damn shorts. Finally, she shoved his pants down his thighs and wrapped her soft, warm hand around him.

“Uh uh.” He gripped the firm globes of her ass and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, causing her wet heat to slide against him. His dick jerked against her, nudging her entrance. He sank to his knees, then lowered her to her back, stretching out over her.

Staring down at her, he peered into her eyes. Cam’s eyes had never been able to lie to him. If he’d been smart five years ago, he would’ve spent more time reading those blue orbs. She blinked, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, her gaze was dark, filled with a mixture of need, hunger, and raw vulnerability.

“Cam?” He spoke against her mouth, already delving back between her lips. He needed to know she wanted this. Him.

She lifted her hips, sliding her sex along his hard length, then taking him inside her. Surging forward, he plunged into the tight, welcoming fist of her body.

Home.