A Baby by Chance (19 page)

“What happened?” Shawna Somersby leaned over Madison, her youthful face deeply concerned.

“I don’t know.” Madison released a shaky breath as she let the freckle-faced intern help her up. “I must be coming down with something,” she fibbed. Like Chance’s baby.

“I heard there’s a twenty-four-hour virus going around,” Chance said gravely.

Just that quickly, everyone in the circle around her—everyone but Chance—backed quickly away from Madison.

“You poor dear,” Ursula said from a distance. Madison couldn’t be sure, but she thought Ursula was holding her breath, probably to avoid inhaling any germs.

“We’ve done enough for today anyway,” Ed announced, backing toward the door.

“Do you want me to try to get you an appointment in town with a doctor?” Shawna asked helpfully.

Kit had been right, Madison thought, Shawna was showing a lot of initiative. She’d also had a very good idea.

“Actually, I can handle that since I’m familiar with the doctors here,” Chance said. He looked at Madison. “I’ll drive you.”

“Good idea,” everyone concluded.

Minutes later, the crew had packed up and headed to the various motels where they were staying. As soon as they’d gone, Chance called the local obstetrician to arrange for an emergency appointment, then came to where Madison was sitting on the sofa. She still felt shaky. “Thanks for not giving my pregnancy away,” she said.

One hand on the small of her back, the other wrapped around her hand and the glass, Chance helped her take a small sip of water. Then another. “They’re going to know sooner or later.”

“I’d prefer it be later,” Madison said, sitting perfectly still. “We have enough to worry about just putting this ad campaign together.”

Chance left her to change his shirt and scrub the pancake makeup from his face. When he returned, he took her hands in his and knelt in front of her. He wanted to tell her this job was too much for a woman in her condition. It made him angry to see her working so hard when he knew she didn’t have to. He had enough money to take care of both her and the baby for the rest of their lives and never deprive them of a thing. But he also knew Madison would be lost without her work. In her job, she was confident and capable. There was no sign of the vulnerability and uncertainty she felt in her personal life. As much as he wanted to protect her, he couldn’t take that away from her. It would be up to the doctor to decide what she could reasonably handle and what she couldn’t. He only hoped she would be honest about the kind of stress and pressure she was under.

He studied her face for a long moment, then asked gently, “You feel like you can walk to the truck?”

“Sure,” Madison said, but no sooner had she gotten to her feet than her knees turned to jelly. Chance caught her before she could fall and swept her into his arms. His chest was warm and strong and comforting. She felt safer than she had in a long time.

“Maybe you could do something like this in the commercial, too,” Madison said as he carried her to the new Ranchero he’d been given. The air-conditioning was already on, and it was blessedly cool inside. He settled her in the deeply cushioned passenger seat, reached across her to fasten her seat belt and then, ever so gently, adjusted the seat to recline. “You know,” Madison continued, albeit a little shakily, forcing her thoughts to business and away from the luxury of what it might be like to depend on Chance permanently, “it would make a great shot if you were to romantically sweep a woman up in your arms and carry her out to your new truck.”

“Only if it’s you I’m carrying,” Chance said, looking at her tenderly.

A thrill went through Madison at the heartfelt concern in his eyes and the low, throaty possessiveness in his voice. If she didn’t know better she would swear he’d fallen head over heels in love with her. “People would talk,” she said softly.

Chance straightened. He looked her in the eye and gave her a grin as wide as all Texas. He braced his hands on his waist. “Let ’em.”

Madison was mulling over the new feelings of love and tenderness welling inside her, when he slid behind the wheel. Was it the baby, the fact of being pregnant, that was causing all of this? Or was it Chance? Had she really fallen this deeply in love with him? Shaken by the realization, Madison turned her attention to the brand-new pickup truck she was sitting in.

“You’re finally driving your new truck,” she marveled.

Chance shrugged. “I figured it’d be best for you and the baby.”

Obviously doing his best to keep the ride as smooth as possible, he turned the new pickup truck for town. He slanted a look at her face. “You still feeling sick or are you just worried?”

A little of both, Madison thought, but not wanting him to worry—she was doing enough for them both—she swallowed and said simply, “I’m just not used to fainting.” Normally she was healthy as a horse. To find herself collapsing with no warning was unsettling, to say the least. It made her want to depend on Chance, rely on his strong arms, and stronger will, forever.

“Just close your eyes and rest,” Chance said, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

Madison did, and by the time they’d completed the nearly two-hour drive into town, she felt much better.

“I’m going in with you,” Chance announced as he parked in front of the clinic doors.

“Really, it’s—it’s not necessary,” Madison said. To her surprise, the rest had done her good, and she felt almost normal again. Ready to take on the world. Or at least this doctor’s visit.

Chance looked at her. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” In fact, she felt so good it seemed silly to be seeing the doctor. But for the baby’s sake she had to be sure everything was okay.

Chance hopped out and circled around to her side. He opened the door and chivalrously helped her from the cab. One arm around her waist, he escorted her to the front double doors of the clinic. “I’ll wait for you in the waiting room then.”

When Madison emerged some thirty minutes later, Chance was sitting on a sofa. He had several kids clustered around him while he read from a battered copy of
Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
They were all snuggled up against him, looks of utter contentment on their young faces. A mixture of tenderness and yearning swept over Madison as she watched.

“That your husband?” the young receptionist asked, shooting an admiring glance at Chance that had as much to do with his reading technique and his way with kids as his sexy good looks. “He’s going to make some daddy.”

Madison smiled and didn’t tell the receptionist she and Chance weren’t married. “He is very good with children, isn’t he?” she remarked softly, shooting Chance another sidelong smile as she paid the bill. So good, in fact, she felt a pang that their child wouldn’t have him around nightly to read to him. But that was just the way things were, Madison reassured herself bluntly, telling herself she was and always had been a very practical person. They would find a way to work things out.

“So how are you?” Chance said as he escorted her to the Ranchero.

“Fine.” Madison blew out a relieved sigh. “The doctor said it was perfectly normal. There’s a tendency to fainting at any period in the pregnancy and it’s likely to occur if I get up too suddenly or stand for prolonged periods.”

“Which is what you were doing this afternoon,” Chance surmised protectively. “Standing for too long.”

Madison nodded. “Right. So I’ll just have to make it a point to sit down a lot more. And take a break at the first sign of faintness.”

“I’m glad you and the baby are okay,” he told her softly, looking into her face.

Madison reached over and squeezed his hand. “Me, too.”

* * *

T
HE REST OF THE WEEK
was as busy as Monday had been. The crew rolled in around nine in the morning. Filming started around noon and continued until suppertime. Chance spent all of Tuesday driving up to a pasture filled with horses and hopping out of the truck. Again and again and again. Wednesday, he loaded a gleaming leather saddle into the bed of the pickup. Again and again and again. Thursday, he hitched a horse trailer to the back of his pickup. More than two dozen times—until every aspect of his “look” and “action” and “expressions” was deemed perfect by an increasingly demanding Vince. On Friday they wanted to film him loading a horse into the trailer hitched to the Ranchero pickup. And it was there, finally, that Chance balked again. Big-time.

“I’m not confusing this horse by making her go in and out of the trailer a hundred times in one afternoon,” Chance exploded in exasperation after the third take.

Vince whipped off his sunglasses. “We have to get this right!” he snapped. “And I’m not stopping until we do!”

“Then start filming more accurately to begin with.” Chance snapped right back, whipping his hat off and slapping it against his thigh.

Ever the peacemaker, Madison, who’d been sitting in a canvas chair beneath a shade tree, jumped to her feet and darted between Chance and the director before punches could fly. She spread her hands beseechingly and gave Chance one of her most officious looks. “Mr. Cartwright! Please—”

Chance was in no mood to be humored as if he were the prima donna when the well-being of one of his prize horses was at stake. “Don’t you Mr. Cartwright me!” he snarled.

Cool as could be, Madison turned to the director. “Mr. Cartwright may have a point, Vince,” she said smoothly. “If the horse gets confused or begins to balk, we’re not going to have much of a shot, anyway.”

“Balking might be good,” Ursula Rodriguez interrupted practically. “It’d be more action-oriented.” She gave an elegant little shrug as everyone turned to look at her. “It would give Chance an opportunity to show how well he handles these animals.”

Chance’s nostrils flared as the reason for his concern was ignored and Madison hurried to intervene. “It’s been a long week.” And Chance had been, in her opinion, more than patient, given what he’d had to put up with, especially considering he was not a professional.

“You can say that again!” Chance snarled bad-temperedly.

“Madison, may I see you a moment?” Ed Connelly said. He wiped his head with a handkerchief.

Madison nodded. “Everyone else take ten—make that fifteen!”

As everyone scattered, Madison met Ed on the shade of the front porch. “We’re not going to get anywhere with Chance this afternoon, are we?” her boss asked in obvious frustration.

“It would not appear so,” Madison said as she watched Chance lead his horse to the barn to cool down. “But not to worry. We can shoot the mountains this afternoon, start again tomorrow. Vince has been wanting to take a crew up there, anyway, to try to capture a sunset at close range on the digital camera.”

“Fine,” Ed said. “But when tomorrow morning comes, Madison, I want Chance Cartwright to cooperate fully, not just for a few hours, but for the rest of the shoot.”

Aware her heart was racing, Madison drew a breath. “Ed, you’re looking for guarantees and—”

“You’re darn right I’m looking for guarantees!” Ed exploded, apparently at the end of his rope, too. “And any vice president worth her salt would be able to give them to me. So you do what you have to do, Madison,” he stormed, unaware, as Madison was, that Chance was headed their way. “You let that cowboy have the afternoon off, and then you take him out tonight for a nice steak and a shot or two of bourbon and a fine cigar or whatever the heck else it takes to smooth off the rough edges.” Ed continued instructing Madison furiously. “But come what may, he better be in a frame to cooperate fully first thing tomorrow morning. Or it’s your head on the chopping block.”

* * *

H
OURS LATER
, Madison settled back in her comfy chair at the country inn and sipped her glass of milk on the rocks. Aware this was one of the tensest business dinners she had ever conducted in her life, she tilted her head to slant Chance a pleasantly obsequious look. “How’s your steak? Is it okay?” When Chance offered no immediate response, Madison pushed on. “Is it big enough?”

Chance clamped the unlit cigar between his teeth. “You tell me,” he drawled, giving her the once-over. “Is it?”

Madison didn’t see how it couldn’t be. His steak was the biggest one on the menu, the sixteen-ounce porterhouse, prepared perfectly, if she did say so herself. In fact, her chicken was magnificent, too, not that she’d been able to enjoy it with Chance being the most ungracious, untalkative dinner companion on record. “We can get you something else if you prefer,” she continued.

Chance quirked a brow and idly tapped his cigar against the rim of his plate. “Actually, now that you mention it, maybe I would prefer the panfried rainbow trout with coleslaw.”

Madison blinked, not sure if he was serious. “That’s, um, not served here,” she said delicately.

“Hmm.” Chance shrugged and looked at her as if he expected her to solve the problem.

“But maybe I can go and see what the chef can do.”

“Why don’t you do that,” Chance said, clamping down on the end of his unlit cigar.

Jerk, Madison thought as she excused herself. She went in search of the hostess, who, after hearing Madison’s plight and learning how much Madison and Connelly and Associates were prepared to pay to keep their star happy, was only too eager to take Madison to see the chef. Madison returned a good fifteen minutes later to see Chance had demolished much of his steak. And passed entirely on his bourbon.

“All set,” Madison announced happily as she eased into her chair and spread her linen napkin across her lap. “Your panfried rainbow trout and coleslaw will be here momentarily. The chef even decided to throw in an order of fries and hush puppies with it,” she added happily.

Chance sipped his ice water lazily and favored her with a decidedly edgy smile. “I’ve decided I don’t want it.”

He didn’t want it. Madison quelled the urge to bash him over the head with her dinner plate, to heck with her half-eaten roast chicken and steamed vegetables. She sipped her milk. “The chef’s feelings will be hurt.” He had gone to a great deal of trouble to manage this, arranging for another employee to rush over to the nearest grocery and back in record time for the necessary ingredients.