It was to be a most unusual wedding... A very pregnant bride not quite sure marriage is the answer--and a determined groom who intends to have the "I-dos" said before the baby makes an appearance!

Judge Harold Larson glanced at Dani, waiting for her answer.

And that’s when it happened.

The nagging pain that had centered in her back throughout the day, radiated outward in an intense, constricting band. The air whooshed from her lungs and her hold on Nick became a death grip. Struggling to draw breath, she shot him a wide-eyed, panicked look.

Nick’s comprehension was instantaneous.

"Harold?" He didn’t raise his voice, but something in his tone succeeded in snagging the judge’s full attention.

"You have something to say before we begin?"

"Just a request." He shot Harold a speaking look. "Dani and I have decided on the short version, if you don’t mind."

Again comprehension dawned, this time in the judge’s eyes.

Nick silently willed him not to let on to the rest of the gathering. If they discovered Dani had gone into labor, all hell would break loose and this marriage would never become fact. Fortunately, Harold was no fool. Years on the bench had undoubtedly taught him to make swift--and accurate--assessments of people. The judge’s gaze shifted from Dani’s mother, Ruth to the rest of Dani’s relatives and he gave an imperceptible nod.

"Actually, Nick, that was going to be my request," he commented easily. "I’m afraid my schedule’s tight today, so if there aren’t any objections we’ll get the two of you married with the minimum of fuss."

"And not a minute too soon," came Kendell’s irrepressible comment.

"It may not be a minute too soon, but it certainly is nine months too late," Ruth retorted, in her most parental tone of voice.

Dani’s hand clenched in his again and he looked down. Damn. If this was another contraction, they didn’t have much time.

"Harold!" he barked.

The judge didn’t require further prompting. "Dearly beloved--" he began.

"Wait! The flowers. Who was supposed to bring the flowers?"

Nick didn’t know which sister spoke, but he could have cheerfully strangled her. "I’ll buy Dani a truck load the minute we’re married. Keep going, Harold."

"We’re gathered here today--"

"The child should have flowers." Austin, the father of the bride, spoke for the very first time.

"Daddy, I don’t need flowers," Dani caught her breath long enough to reply.

"I think I saw a street vendor selling them just outside the courthouse. It won’t take long to run out there and buy a bunch."

"Fine." Nick dug his wallet from his back pocket and yanked out a wad of bills. "Who wants to volunteer?"

One of the nephews stepped forward, snatched the fistful of money and raced out the door. Judge Larson caught Nick’s eye. Apparently, whatever the judge read there was more than sufficient to convince him to continue with the ceremony. "We’re gathered here today to join this man and woman in matrimony."

"We’re not going to wait for Christopher?" another sister complained. "I’m sure we can delay the ceremony for just five minutes."

"Christopher will have to miss a word or two," Nick snapped. "His Honor has a tight schedule, don’t you, Harold?"

Dani let out a soft gasp and beads of sweat appeared on Judge Larson’s forehead. "Very tight. In fact, I think we’ll move straight to the really, really short version. Do you, Nicholas Colter take Danielle Sheraton for your lawfully wedded wife?"

"This is rather unusual," Ruth murmured unhappily.

"I do," Nick snapped. "Keep going Harold!"

"And do you--"

Dani groaned. "I do! I do!"

"Don’t you even want to hear the words?" Austin demanded. "What sort of wedding is this, anyway?"

"I heard them last time, Daddy! The only thing that’s changed since then is the man I’m saying them to."

"And thank heaven for that!" Ruth muttered.

"Do you have the ring, Nick?" Harold prompted.

"Right here." He yanked it off his pinkie, forced Dani’s clenched fist open and shoved the diamond-studded band onto her finger. He didn’t even bother waiting for the judge this time. "You’re mine now, Danielle Colter. Through the good times and the bad, in sickness, health and childbirth. Hell, sweetheart, you’re just plain stuck with me."

"You have such a way with words, Nick. I wish--" She closed her eyes and winced.

"What do you wish, sweetheart?"

"That I had something to give you."

"You will soon enough," he retorted roughly. "Harold, are we through here?"

"Almost. If anyone has any reason why these two should not be lawfully wed, let him speak now or forever hold his peace." He didn’t wait for an objection. "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Nick gave his wife a regretful look. "Somehow, I doubt there’s time for that." Grabbing the wings on the back of the chair, he spun it around and rolled briskly toward the door. "Clear a path, folks! Harold, think you can arrange for a police escort?"

The judge was already on the phone. "I’ll have them meet you by the front entrance. Don’t panic, man. We’ll get her to the hospital in time."

"I never panic," Nick retorted. Although he’d like to. Right at this moment, he’d kill for that ability.

Ruth’s mouth dropped open as understanding set in. She grabbed her husband’s arm. "Oh, my goodness. She’s in labor. Danielle! You’re in labor?"

"I thought it was a backache, but--" She moaned softly.

"Oh, dear. Just like when I had Richey. By the time I realized I was in labor--" Ruth’s eyes widened. "Unless you want her having that baby in the middle of the courthouse hallway, you’d better hurry, Nick!"

"Thanks, Ruth. I’ll keep that in mind."

He whisked the chair from the judge’s chambers, through the outer office and into the hallway, grateful for the sturdy castors. It was almost as good as a wheelchair and a hell of a lot more comfortable. Dani clung to the armrest with one hand and anchored Jamie’s hat with the other. "Hang on, sweetheart. The police will get us there in plenty of time."

He hoped!

Finally reaching the front entrance of the courthouse, Nick plucked Dani out of the chair. "End of the road, sweetheart."

"Why? What’s wrong?"

"Steps. We get to hike it from here. I don’t see an ambulance, yet, but the police have arrived."

The officer stood by the squad car and as they approached, he hastened to open the back door. Nick gently set Dani on her feet. She looked at him, her eyes huge and dark and slightly bewildered.

"Oh, dear," she whispered.

"What? What is it?" Please! Don’t let her deliver their baby on the sidewalk, he prayed desperately. "What’s wrong now?"

She glanced down. "I’m afraid I’ve sprung a leak."

It only took an instant to grasp what had happened. "Her water’s just broken," Nick explained to the officer--a very young, fresh-scrubbed man who instantly turned pink around the ears. "We’re going to need to get her to the hospital. Fast. Do you have a blanket we can use?"

Fortunately, the officer was both intelligent and level-headed. He provided them with a blanket and waited until Nick had helped Dani into the backseat. Then he flipped on his emergency lights and took off, weaving through the traffic with both speed and skill--as well as the liberal use of his siren. Apparently he wasn’t any more interested in delivering a baby in the back of his squad car than Nick.

"The contractions are coming closer together," Dani announced nervously, before breaking off with a groan. Her hat trembled from the force of the contraction, dipping to caress her cheek as though in sympathy.

Nick locked his arms around her and cradled her close. Hurry the hell up! he silently willed. As though intercepting his thoughts, the officer slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. "Five minutes, sweetheart. Just hang in there for five more minutes."

"I don’t think I can wait that long! I need to push."

"No, you don’t," he informed her grimly. "Not yet."

"Yes, I do!" She glared, her eyes glittering with ebony fire beneath a tumble of night-black curls. "It’s my baby. I should know whether or not I need to--" She broke off, her hands clamping around his arms hard enough to cut the circulation.

"Don’t push! You’re supposed to..." What the hell was she supposed to do? He’d never felt so helpless and unprepared in his life.

"Breathe?" the officer offered helpfully.

Nick grasped the suggestion like a lifeline. "Yeah, breathe. You’re supposed to breathe."

The instant she could speak again, she snapped, "I know that! I’m not a complete idiot. I did take lessons on child birth and labor, you know."

He’d missed out on that, he realized with a pang. She’d attended those classes alone, or with someone else. He forced the thought from his mind, forced himself to concentrate on helping her. "Well, are you using them?"

"Yes, I’m using them! Haven’t you been listening? I’m breathing loud enough to crack glass. Or did you think all these noises I’ve been making are how I norm--" A muffled shriek caught in her throat.

Nick swore beneath his breath. "Pant. Try that, will you? I read somewhere panting’s supposed to help."

"You want me to pant?" she demanded the instant she’d recovered her voice. "How ’bout if you try and pant while I lock your innards in a vice and squeeze hard enough to--" She groaned.

He held her closer. "Trust me, honey. My innards are in a vice."

She buried her head against his shoulder and her wedding hat tumbled to the seat in a forgotten heap of ivory lace and satin ribbons. "Why did you get me pregnant? All I wanted was to sleep with you, not have your baby."

The officer’s ears turned pink again. "Did you now," Nick murmured. "I guess this time it turned out to be a package deal."

"I order à la carte and you give me a nine course meal! You messed up, Colter."

Nick couldn’t help himself. He smiled into the silky black curls clinging to her temple. "I’m really sorry," he said, careful to keep all hint of amusement from his voice. "If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t plan for you to get pregnant."

"Well, it doesn’t make me feel better. And you did a damn fine job for somebody without a plan." Another contraction hit and air hissed between her gritted teeth. "You should have considered this possibility when you seduced me. Why didn’t you? You’re supposed to be the brains of the operation, not me."

"In case you didn’t notice, my brain wasn’t the one in charge that night," he muttered.

"Oh, great. You decide to cut loose for the first time in your blueprinted life and look what happens!"

The policeman glanced in the rearview mirror. "She must be in transition. That’s the worst stage of labor right toward the end. Real painful. They always talk nasty when they’re in transition. She doesn’t really mean what she’s saying."

"I do so mean it! We were supposed to have a one-night stand. And this is what I get for a single lousy night of incredible lovemaking."

That gave him pause. He lifted an eyebrow. "Incredible?"

"All right. Spectacular. Spectacular lovemaking. It still should have been more."

Trying to keep pace with her special form of logic took every brain cell he possessed. "What should have been more?"

"I should have gotten more than one night of spectacular out of all this agony. For what I’m going through I deserve months. Maybe years worth of spectacular."

"I’ll see what I can do next time."

"There’s not going to be a next time!" She fisted her hands around the lapels of his tux, practically ripping them free of the seams. "There is never going to be a next time. That was your one shot and you hit the bull’s eye. Congratulations, darlin’."

"Definitely transition," the policeman muttered.

Nick eased perspiration-dampened curls from her forehead, not the least dismayed by her declaration. They were married now. He’d have a full year in which to change her mind. Plenty of opportunities to hit more bulls’ eyes. "But it was one hell of a hit, wasn’t it, sweetheart?"

In a heartbeat, anger slipped into sorrow. "I haven’t even picked out names." Tears welled in her ink-dark eyes. "We’ll have to call him, ‘hey you.’ He’ll end up with a complex and hate us forever."

"If it’s a boy we’ll name him Austin, after your father. Or Richard, after your brother. If it’s a girl..." He took a risk. A huge risk. "What do you think of Abigail?"

"Abigail?" She tried it out, whispering the name to herself. "I like it. It’s sweet. A little old-fashioned, but pretty."

"So we’re decided? If we have a girl, we’ll call her Abigail. And if it’s a boy--"

"What about your father? Don’t you want to name a son after him?"

"I think Austin would appreciate it more."

Another contraction hit, one that took forever to pass. "Dear heaven, Nick. It hurts. Why does having a baby have to hurt so much?"

He hated being helpless, hated it more than anything in recent memory. "I’m sorry. If I could feel the pain for you, I would."

"It wouldn’t work," she informed him sadly.

It was an irrational conversation--a totally ridiculous conversation--but it seemed to keep her mind off the baby’s desperate rush to be born. "Why not?"

The police car screeched to a halt outside the emergency room entrance and she glanced at him as the car door beside her flew open, her gaze filled with sorrow. "It wouldn’t work because you can’t feel."