A Baby Changes Everything (15 page)

Won both her and an additional, unexpected prize. A thrill came to him the way it hadn't in a long, long time, igniting his loins and his soul.

He was unprepared for her.

Cruz was accustomed to women becoming clawing wildcats in his embrace. Accustomed and proud in his own way that he had unveiled this secret about them. That for all their pretenses of polished manners and sophistication, they were just swirling cauldrons of hunger and desire like their poorer sisters.

But he was not accustomed to feeling that he had just crossed the threshold of dewy innocence, helping to let loose a secret that innocence had never suspected existed. Cruz had the very real impression, as he kissed her over and over again, that Savannah was more surprised than he at the depth of her reaction, the breadth of the feelings that were stirred by his artful lovemaking.

And so, in part, the seducer became the seduced, charmed, taken, aroused by the very woman with whom he had chosen to dally.

Very quickly, it ceased to resemble a dalliance in any manner, shape or form. It became, instead, an experience, sweet for all the hot passion that surrounded it. And enduring, for it burned itself into his mind, into his very soul.

Everything melted into everything else. The stable, the horses, the hay within the stall—it all faded from his consciousness. All there was was this woman, this soft flower, who had the ability to reduce him to a mass of molten desire.

He felt almost humbled as he touched her, as he felt her body heat beneath his hand. This was new and different, yet it seemed as if he'd been waiting for her all his life. As if he'd known her all his life.

Each place he touched her quivering body seemed a revelation to him, leaving him anticipating, yearning.

She became a wild woman beneath his questing mouth. It was as if every fiber of her had caught on fire and only he could put it out.

But he didn't put it out. With each movement, he only fed it, making it rise higher.

With practiced skill, Cruz moved his fingers, his lips and his tongue over her body, teaching her about herself, showing her that there was no place, no tiny spot, that was immune to him, to the wonders of lovemaking. They were all centers of passion.

The skin behind her knees, the space inside her elbow, the hollow of her throat, all these he teased, all these he turned into places of heated desire. And when he moved
to where all things came together, when he finally drove himself into her, the excitement barely allowed him to breathe.

 

Cruz roused himself, shaking his head and steadying his breath, which was made erratic by the mere memory of his first night with Savannah. Now wasn't the time to let his mind wander.

He couldn't lose her. He couldn't. Losing her would be like losing the other half of his soul.

“Hang on, baby,” he said aloud, hardly aware that he was doing so. “You've got to hang on so I can make it up to you.”

Tears came, clouding his vision. He wiped them away with the back of his sleeve. A light in the rearview mirror caught his eye just as he heard the sound of a siren.

He blinked, trying to focus. There were dancing red, yellow and blue lights on the car behind him.

A police car.

Somehow, he'd crossed into the city limits without even realizing it. And he'd obviously exceeded the speed limit without realizing it, too.

A sense of urgency pushed him on. Cruz wanted nothing more than to ignore the squad car behind him, but he knew the futility of that. Suppressing an impatient sigh, he pulled over.

Feeling as if each moment was ticking away from him, he waited restlessly, watching in the side mirror as the officer left his vehicle and made his way up to Billy's car.

Gabe Thunderhawk was taking a well-deserved break from the investigation. And from Detective Andrea Matthews, who was rubbing him the wrong way, so hard he felt as if his skin was abraded.

He needed to clear his head.

When the dusty navy-blue car with its broken taillight had gone whizzing by him, he'd thought he was dreaming. No one drove that fast past a police car.

Nobody but a punk kid thumbing his nose at authority. Red Rock didn't lack for those.

So he'd given chase. After a couple of blocks, he'd had to sound his siren because the damn fool refused to slow down.

Taking out his ticket book, he pushed his hat back on his head, ready for anything.

“Okay, so where's the fire— Cruz?” Surprised, Gabe took a second look at the car he'd just stopped. He was familiar with both of Cruz's vehicles and this wasn't one of them. “This isn't your car.”

“No, it belongs to one of my ranch hands.” There was no time to get into explanations about the fire or why Billy needed Cruz's truck and he needed Billy's wreck. He couldn't push away the feeling that every moment counted. That if he didn't hurry, it might be too late. Damn it, why hadn't he gone with Vanessa when she'd asked him to? He could already be with Savannah. “Gabe, they just took Savannah to the hospital. I've got to go see her.”

All signs of the police officer vanished. They were neighbors now. Friends. Everyone loved Savannah. “Is it serious?”

It killed Cruz to say it. “Yeah.” The single word twisted a knife deep into his gut.

Gabe was already rushing back to his squad car. “Hang on, I'll give you an escort in.”

 

Cruz made the rest of the trip in fifteen minutes. With Gabe's “I hope she's okay,” ringing in his ears, he tore into the emergency room, ignoring the admitting clerk even as
the matronly woman jumped to her feet to stop him. “Sir, you can't just run in there.”

“My wife's in there,” he said, then called out her name. “Savannah!” He knew he must look like a deranged fool, running around the place calling for her, but he didn't care. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was finding Savannah.

And that she was well.

He felt someone catch his arm. When he swung around, he saw that it was Vanessa.

“They just took her up to a room,” she told him, even now guiding him toward the bank of elevators. “I was getting her things together to take upstairs.” She tried to smile and wasn't very successful. “Your voice carries a long way.”

“Is she all right?” He searched Vanessa's face, looking for his answer, hoping he could detect a lie if faced with one.

The elevator came. Vanessa stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor. He got in with her.

“For now,” she told him.

He didn't like the sound of that. Didn't like the way his heart froze in his chest, like a lump of ice. “What do you mean, ‘for now'? What's wrong with her? What happened?”

Vanessa sighed. “Savannah's not as strong as she thinks she is. This pregnancy's been harder on her than the first one. I guess her body just gave out.”

No, it didn't,
he thought.
No, it didn't.
“I want to see her doctor.”

“He went up with her. I just left him.” She threaded her arm through his and looked at him in surprise. “You're shaking.”

Machismo would have had him denying it. But he wasn't feeling very macho. He was feeling like a man who was in danger of losing everything that made the world right to him.

“Never felt so cold before,” he admitted.

“It's going to be all right,” Vanessa promised.

The elevator doors opened. The fog enshrouding his brain lifted as he stepped off the elevator. “Where's Luke?”

“He's okay,” she assured him. “I left him with my housekeeper. I called your mother after I talked to you. She's on her way to him right now.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Better that his mother went to Luke than came here, he thought. He wasn't sure that he could remain strong if his mother began to show him any sympathy. All that was holding him together right now was the steely grit he'd wrapped around himself the moment Vanessa had called.

The steel shattered when he walked into Savannah's room and saw her.

His wife was unconscious. There were tubes running into her arm. He'd never seen her look this pale and fragile.

Why hadn't he seen this coming? Why hadn't he realized that she was working too hard? That this was too much for her right now?

Because he was never there himself, he thought angrily. And when he was, he'd let her wait on him, serve him as if he was some kind of dictator, or self-absorbed Neanderthal. He'd been so tired, he hadn't noticed how worn out she was.

Hell of a husband he made, he thought.

The doctor was nowhere to be seen. When he asked Vanessa his whereabouts, she said, “I'll go find him.”

Cruz was barely conscious of nodding. Walking farther into the room, he took Savannah's hand in his. “Wake up, baby. Please wake up.”

But Savannah didn't even stir.

What if she didn't wake up? If she never woke up?

The fear inside him grew to almost unmanageable proportions.

His knees weak, Cruz sank onto the chair beside Savannah's bed, still holding her hand.

C
ruz jumped to his feet the second Dr. Miller walked in. It was almost ten and he hadn't thought the physician was going to make another visit until sometime the next morning.

Cruz's back ached. Tension riddled it, and it didn't help that the chair he'd been sitting in was beginning to feel like a twelfth-century instrument of torture.

He held his breath as the doctor picked up Savannah's medical chart to read the nurses' notations.

Unable to keep silent any longer, Cruz asked, “It's been ten hours. Shouldn't she be waking up by now?”

“Ordinarily, yes.” Dr. Miller tucked away the chart at the foot of the bed. “But sometimes the body knows best.” The physician regarded his patient for a long moment before glancing at Cruz again. “Your wife's been through a great deal. Look at it this way. Her body is making an at
tempt to rally, to ‘get back to normal,' so to speak. If she's not conscious, her body's not focusing on anything else but getting better.”

“But she is getting better, right?” Cruz pressed.

Miller had given him a complete prognosis earlier, when he'd first arrived, but he needed to hear it again. Needed to be assured that Savannah was going to be all right. He knew there were no guarantees, but he still needed something to hang on to. Even a lie.

“Yes.” With an understanding nod, Dr. Miller reviewed what he'd already told him, stripping away the technical jargon. “We've given your wife something to stop her from going into premature labor. At present, it appears that the baby was unaffected by this episode.” He glanced at Savannah. “She just needs to come around.” And then he laid a compassionate hand on Cruz's shoulder. “There's no telling how long that's going to take. Why don't you go home, Mr. Perez? I can have someone call you the moment your wife opens her eyes.”

Cruz blew out a long breath, looking at Savannah and willing her to do just that. “I am home, Doctor. She's my home. There's no place else I can be.”

Miller had heard the words before, coming from other spouses. But it didn't negate the reality of the situation. “You need your rest.”

Cruz pressed his lips together, looking at Savannah. He tried not to let his imagination get the better of him. He'd never been able to hang on to sunny thoughts. That was Savannah's department. “Everything I need is right there in that bed, Doctor.”

It was clear that there was no room for argument or de
bate. With a nod, the physician patted his shoulder. “I'll be by again in the morning.”

Cruz turned on his heel as Miller began to leave the room. “The morning? What if she needs you in the middle of the night?”

The doctor paused by the door. “I've got a very competent colleague on standby. And the nurses on staff are the best.” A small smile slipped across his lips. “I had an opportunity to experience that firsthand last year.” He looked at Savannah, then back at Cruz. “If she were my wife, I'd want her here.”

“I just want her back on the ranch,” Cruz murmured quietly, trying to mask the impatience that ricocheted through him.

“I understand,” Dr. Miller replied before he left the room.

Agitated, Cruz began to pace the small space that comprised Savannah's single care unit. He tried not to let his imagination run away with him. Vanessa had left over an hour ago, going home for the night. His parents had both been by, first his father, then his mother, taking turns so that Luke wouldn't be left alone at their house. The boy had been assured that everything was all right, that his mother was just resting, but Rosita had told Cruz that Luke looked unconvinced.

“He's as sharp as you were at that age, Cruz,” she'd said when she came to visit. She stood stroking Savannah's head, fighting tears. “You're going to have your hands full with that one.”

They already did, he thought. And Savannah handled it. Savannah handled everything at the house. Guilt lanced through him as he considered the list of things his wife
faced every day. All without complaining. He hadn't realized how much he relied on her until he'd been left with everything to do. They were behind in the bookkeeping.

Behind in everything.

Restless, frustrated, Cruz moved back to the bed, looking at Savannah's pale face. She hadn't moved since they had brought her up from the emergency room this morning, he'd been told. Hadn't opened her eyes. He'd been right here in this room the entire time, waiting, hoping.

Insisting that he eat something, Vanessa had brought him a sandwich from the cafeteria. It was sitting on the shelf by the window, still wrapped in cellophane. But he had no appetite.

He had nothing without Savannah.

Oh God, what if—?

Taking her hand, he got down on his knees beside her bed. He searched for the words with which to pray, but he couldn't remember how.

After a moment, he addressed his maker. “Yeah, it's me. I know. We haven't talked for a while.” He shifted his shoulders, feeling as if there was no way to hide from the pain. From the devastating helplessness that drenched him. “No disrespect intended. It's just that I've been busy. But You already know that.” He laughed shortly. “You know everything.” Cruz looked up toward the ceiling. “Like the fact that I can't go on without her. I'll do anything You want.

“Anything,” he pleaded. “Just please don't take her from me. Make her wake up. I need her, God. I need her a lot more than You do. Make her open her eyes so I can tell her. Please.”

He looked at Savannah through his tears, but her eyes didn't open.

With a sigh, Cruz buried his head on the blanket and wept.

 

She hurt all over.

The more she struggled to rise to the surface, the more the pain wrapped itself around her, telling her not to struggle, to remain buried where she was.

It was nice here.

Safe.

As long as she remained inside the cocoon with its gauzy walls and its soothing remoteness, she was safe.

There were no demands on her here. No pain, no pressure. No days that fed into one another filled with endless tasks, constant demands that drained her and left her feeling unfulfilled.

But there was no Luke here. No Cruz. And she felt alone.

Ached to be with them.

Summoning strength from some long lost, darkened corner, she struggled against the natural urge to remain safe, secluded. Warm and pain free. She struggled to reach the surface.

To find the people she loved more than life itself.

The sound of words guided her. Cruz's voice, coming to her from a distance…asking her something…telling her something….

Bartering with someone for her life.

Or maybe it was someone else's voice. She wasn't sure. But she told herself it was Cruz, and held on to that possibility as if it were a lifeline. Without it, she knew she would have sunk back to the bottom and remained there indefinitely.

Slowly, like a deep-sea diver avoiding the bends, she rose from the depths. Struggling every endless inch of the
way, she made it to the surface. Gritting her teeth, she embraced the pain.

Her eyelids weighed a ton each, but she fought to push them open. Several times, she thought she'd succeeded, only to realize they were still closed.

She tried again and again.

It felt as if the struggle, the battle for survival, took all night.

It drained her beyond words. Still, she fought on.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, daylight had moved into the room, banishing the shadows.

She had no idea where she was. Nothing looked familiar.

Her field of vision expanded slowly. From the tubes that ran into her arms, to the white blanket that covered the bed she was in. To the man sleeping in the chair beside her.

Cruz.

What there was of her heart jumped.

Her throat felt parched. It took effort to make even a single sound.

“Cruz?”

His eyes flew open instantly. He'd heard Savannah's voice calling his name a dozen time during the course of the night.

But each time he looked, her eyes were still shut and she was still unconscious.

But this time was different.

He almost fell to his knees as he grasped her hand. “Savannah, you're awake.”

“Of course I'm awake.” She cleared her raspy throat. “It's morning.” Morning. And she should be doing things. Getting things ready.

But where was she? And where was Luke?

And what was Cruz doing here, with that sad, drawn look on his face?

He closed his hand around hers. “Oh God, baby, you're awake.”

“Uh-huh.” They'd already established that. She struggled to keep the fog from closing around her again. God, she hurt. She felt as if she'd been run over by a truck, several times. “Wh-what am I doing here?”

“Vanessa said she found you on the floor in your room. You were unconscious.” Cruz ran his tongue along his dried lips. Even talking about it sent ripples of fear through him. “There was blood—”

“Blood?” she echoed. The next moment, as the words and their implication penetrated, Savannah struggled to sit up, panicked. “The baby—”

Cruz was on his feet instantly, gently pushing her back and restraining her. Not that it took much effort, for she felt as weak as a kitten.

“The baby is fine,” he assured her. “Vanessa had them call in Dr. Miller.”

It was Vanessa who had remembered the name of Savannah's OB-GYN. Another category he'd fallen short in. But no more. From here on, everything that affected his wife and his children affected him as well.

“He gave you something to stop the labor.” Cruz let out a shaky breath. He looked at her, devouring her with his eyes. She was awake. She was going to be all right, a voice in his head cheered over and over again. “You gave me one hell of a scare.”

She tried to force a smile to her lips, but felt as weak as a strand of overcooked spaghetti.

Things began to come together in her mind. She re
membered feeling a terrible stab of pain. And then the room going black.

“Wasn't too good from this end, either.” Just before she'd passed out, she remembered Luke crying out to her. Fresh panic overtook her. “Luke…?”

“He's with my parents.”

Cruz didn't know if she remembered that Luke had been with her at the time, but he saw no need to tell her that now. Knowing Savannah, she'd only blame herself for scaring the boy.

A furrow formed between her eyes. “It's daylight, Cruz. Why…”

He held her hand, feeling as if he never wanted to let go. “Yeah.” It was finally daylight, he thought. Daylight for both of them.

“Why are you here?” she asked next. “Why aren't you at the ranch?”

He'd gotten several calls yesterday. Hank had wanted to keep him informed of both the outcome of the negotiation with Purdue and how Billy had fared at the lumber-yard. The three hands had spent the better part of the day boarding up the stable, where the horses had been housed with apparently a minimum of fuss last night.

“I left Hank in charge,” he told her. It tickled him to see the look of surprise that came over her features. He gave Savannah her due, something he knew he had neglected for far too long. “You were right. He is good. I made him foreman. He's handling the repairs.”

“Repairs?” she repeated. As far as she remembered, nothing had needed fixing.

“To the stable.” He watched the furrow between her
eyes deepen. “Part of the stable closest to the house burned down.”

“Burned down?” Savannah echoed incredulously. She felt as if she'd fallen headfirst into a rabbit hole. “Just how long was I out?”

He moved the hair back from her face, caressing her cheek. Silently, he thanked God for listening, even after such a long separation.

“Too long. Since about ten yesterday,” he told her.

Who was this man and where was her husband? she wondered. “And you've been here all that time?”

“Yes.”

It didn't make any sense to Savannah—although there was one plausible explanation for it. “Am I dead?”

All the relief he felt was caught up in the laugh that left his lips. “No, baby, but I thought you were going to be.” He took her hand again, looking into her eyes. The beautiful eyes that he loved. “It made me realize a whole lot of things. Like nothing is as important to me as you are.”

She smiled, not completely convinced she'd been wrong in her assumption. “Maybe I should try being dead more often.”

He sobered. “Don't even kid about that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Just get better.” Sitting back, Cruz took a breath. “The doctor says you're going to have to cut back on things until the baby comes.”

She frowned again. Easy for the doctor to say. She knew that his wife had a housekeeper. “Cut back on things?”

Cruz nodded. “As in ‘take it easy.'”

“Take it easy?” The last time she'd done that was right after she'd given birth to Luke. Ever since then her life had been a blur of activity.

He laughed again. “And learn not to repeat everything.”

Already working on the problem, she hardly heard him. This was going to take coordination. And cooperation. She was going to have to impose on several people, something she hated doing.

“I guess,” she began slowly, “if I stay at Vanessa's house until after the baby's born—”

He stopped her right there. “You're staying on the ranch.”

Staying at the ranch was not going to solve the problem. It was going to add to it. Although, she had to admit, the idea of being separated from Cruz any longer was clearly killing her. As the song went, she'd rather be miserable loving him than happy loving anyone else. “But then who's going to help me with Luke?”

“I am.” He said it as if there was no doubt he was up to it. And they both knew he wasn't, she thought.