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I going to deliver early?’

      Abby shook her head. ‘I’m not really qualified to tell you that. I do know that about 80 per cent of women whose membranes rupture go into labour within four days.’

      Jennifer took a deep breath and her hands rested automatically on her swollen abdomen. ‘What are my baby’s chances?’

      Abby shook her head. ‘We’ll talk about that when Dr Fairgreaves gets here. I want to hear what his professional opinion is before we start leaping to any conclusions. From right now, though, you’re on strict bed rest.’

      Jennifer threw up her hands in frustration. ‘But I’ve already been on bed rest!’

      Abby raised one eyebrow. ‘Have you?’

      Jennifer watched her carefully before finally answering, ‘Well, maybe not complete bed rest.’

      ‘We need to monitor your baby for any signs of distress and monitor you for any sign of infection.’ She hesitated a little before continuing, ‘It might also be advisable to move you to a hospital with better facilities for pre-term babies.’

      Jennifer looked deep in thought and bit her bottom lip. ‘Where would that be?’

      ‘The nearest is San Francisco Children’s Hospital. They have a special ICU for premature deliveries.’

      ‘No.’

      The voice was clear and decisive and took Abby completely by surprise.

      ‘What?’

      Jennifer folded her arms firmly across her chest. ‘I’m staying here.’

      Abby shook her head in disbelief. ‘Why on earth would you want to stay here?’

      ‘Wouldn’t moving me be dangerous?’

      Abby shifted uncomfortably. Jennifer’s sharp retort unnerved her. In an instant she was in a witness box and being cross-examined by the more-than-capable lawyer. This wasn’t her specialty and she was beginning to feel at little out of her depth. ‘This is a conversation you need to have with your obstetrician.’

      ‘Oh.’

      This response was different. Quiet and unsure. She’d gone from being a feisty lawyer to an imminent first-time mom in a matter of seconds. This woman was more scared than she was letting on.

      ‘What’s he like?’ Jennifer ran her fingers through her uncombed hair. ‘Your obstetrician.’ She hesitated for a second. ‘Is he good?’

      Abby gave her a little smile. ‘Officially he’s retired. But in answer to your question he’s better than good—he’s great.’ She was interrupted by a heavy knock at the door.

      ‘Abby…Dr Tyler, can I see you please?’

      Abby could hear the anxiety in Luke’s voice. She gave Jennifer a smile, picked up the notes and headed to the door. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

      She pulled a pen from her pocket as she opened the door. She wanted to make sure she’d recorded everything perfectly. With her head in the notes she walked straight into Luke’s broad chest.

      ‘Ow! Luke, what are you doing?’

      Luke shook his head and pointed sideways in exasperation. ‘Please tell me that isn’t your obstetrician.’

      Abby followed to where his finger was pointing to a small dishevelled character dressed from head to toe in fishing gear, with an upright fishing rod perched precariously in his hand. He was surrounded on all sides by men in black suits and was protesting loudly, ‘Who the hell are you lot?’

      Abby’s face broke into a wide smile. ‘It certainly is,’ she said as she shouldered her way past the security detail. ‘Dr Fairgreaves, I’m so glad you’re here.’ She wrapped him in a warm embrace and pulled him to one side. ‘We need to have a private chat about our patient.’

      She handed him the buff-coloured folder and watched as he ran his eyes over the presidential seal on the bottom corner of the notes. His eyes narrowed. ‘Who’s this?’ He gestured in frustration as a figure appeared at Abby’s side.

      Luke. ‘I was just about to ask you the same question,’ he muttered under his breath.

      ‘I might be old, son, but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing.’

      ‘Well, do you always come to work looking like this?’ Luke gestured towards the fishing gear.

      ‘Son, I try not to come to work at all if I can help it. I’m retired.’

      ‘You’re retired?’ Luke’s voice rose in pitch.

      Abby cleared her throat loudly before the conversation got out of hand. ‘Luke, I’d like you to meet Dr David Fairgreaves, our honorary obstetrician, and, David, I’d like you to meet Dr Luke Storm, he’s a cardiologist from Washington who brought the First Lady in.’

      David’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘Why the hell is a cardiologist bringing a pregnant lady to hospital?’

      Abby smiled. In an instant she wasn’t the First Lady any more, she was simply an expectant mother, like any other. She loved that about David Fairgreaves—even though he’d been pursued by many dignitaries and celebrities for his services, he never wasted time on pomp and ceremony. His patients were just that, his patients.

      Abby slid her arm around David Fairgreaves’s shoulders, ‘Her own obstetrician is currently having an MI—Luke is about to treat him.’

      David stared at Luke for a moment before finally grunting, ‘Fine, then.’ He sat down and started reading the notes.

      Luke stood frozen to the spot. ‘David Fairgreaves? The David Fairgreaves?’

      Abby nodded in recognition of the man who was famous all over America for his ground-breaking work. He’d received numerous awards for pioneering the procedure to retrieve stem cells from the umbilical cord. Something that seemed almost commonplace now, but at the time had been a real revolutionary leap of faith. He’d done that while continuing to work as an obstetrician and was known as one of the best in America.

      Luke groaned. ‘This is turning into a bad TV show. What on earth is David Fairgreaves doing here?’

      ‘You mean in this backwater place?’ She couldn’t help the sarcasm that crept into her voice. Then, seeing the expression on his face, Abby sneaked her hand around his waist and gave him a quick hug. Luke’s stress levels seemed to be going through the roof. The warmth of his body immediately poured through her skin. She raised her head up towards his and smiled. ‘Fishing.’

      ‘What?’ Luke looked totally bewildered.

      She shrugged her shoulders. ‘He’s got a fishing boat in Pelican Cove, and now he’s retired he spends half the year here. We have an informal arrangement together that I can call him out for any obstetric emergencies and he loves it.’

      Luke studied the man in the rumpled clothes sitting in the chair in front of him. ‘He looks about a hundred and ten,’ he whispered.

      ‘Well, he’s not quite that old,’ she whispered back, ‘and he’s as sharp as a tack so don’t annoy him.’

      Luke looked as if he could spontaneously combust at any second. Abby pulled her arm from his waist and turned to face him, taking both his hands in hers.

      ‘Look on the bright side, Luke. If someone had asked you to pick any doctor in the world to deliver the President’s pre-term baby, who would you have picked?’

      She watched as the significance of her words began to sink in. The deep wrinkles in Luke’s forehead began to soften. ‘I guess you’re right,’ he said.

      ‘You know I am.’ She lifted herself up on her tip toes and kissed the tip of his nose. ‘Now, go and deal with your MI. I’ll come and find you if there’s any problems.’

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