Page 2
She exhaled and felt some of her tension ease. “I think I can survive that.”
“You sure?”
He looked concerned. Heather allowed herself to savor the feeling, wondering when was the last time someone had worried about her. Her doctor wanted to make sure she was eating right and taking her vitamins. She had some friends at work who asked after her, her mother cared, but no one really worried.
“I swear, I’m fine.” She glanced around. “But I do need to sit down.” Logically, she knew the floor was as far away as it had been ever since she’d stopped growing at thirteen. But as her girth increased, floors had seemed farther and farther away. And currently she felt as ungainly as a cow in mud.
The man took a step toward her. “How can I help?”
She held out her hand. “If you could just help me lower myself, that would be great.”
He grasped her hands firmly. She liked the feel of his strong fingers and the way he didn’t make a big deal out of her request. Bracing herself, she slid against the wall of the elevator, letting him slow her until she was finally sitting down. Her cotton maternity dress billowed out around her and her skinny legs stuck out in front. She was incredibly out of proportion. Sometimes she felt like a cartoon character.
“I’m Jim Dyer,” the man said as he sat down across from her.
“Heather Fitzpatrick.”
“Nice to meet you, Heather.”
He flashed her a dimple as he smiled. She’d never actually met a man with an honest-to-God dimple before. It was nice, as were his blue eyes and the man himself. His relaxed and comfortable manner made her feel better about the whole situation. If she let herself, she just might forget that she was trapped in an elevator.
Uh-oh. It had been a mistake to think the “e” word.
There was a brief pause. Heather felt her anxiety growing, so she searched for a neutral topic of conversation. Anything to distract herself from her tension, not to mention the steady pressure against her back. The pain moved around her abdomen, but she figured that was just her uncomfortable position sitting on the floor.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“I own a helicopter charter company,” he said. “At the Van Nuys airport. I’m here getting my yearly physical so I can stay certified to fly.”
She eyed his broad shoulders and the healthy color in his face. He wore a long-sleeved shirt tucked into khaki slacks, and worn boots. Like most other living, breathing women, she could appreciate a man who had a well-proportioned body. In her present oversize condition, she was even more aware of how nice it was to be normal.
She ripped her gaze away from his impressive biceps, told herself that a pregnant woman had no business staring at a good-looking man and tried to think of something clever to say.
Clever eluded her, so she settled on obvious. “You fly helicopters?”
“It comes with the business. I have pilots, but occasionally I do a run myself.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been up in one.”
“Do you like to fly?”
She thought of her lone trip to Florida to visit her mother. “‘Like’ is a strong term. I don’t mind it.”
“Commercial flying is different from a helicopter. You’re removed from the experience and you can’t see anything.”
“You make that sound bad.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell you what. When you’ve had your baby and you’re feeling better, come on out to the airport and I’ll give you a sight-seeing tour of the valley. Everything looks better from up there.”
“That’s so nice. In return I could let you change a diaper or two.”
“Ouch. Okay, point taken. You don’t have to fly in a helicopter if you don’t want to.”
“Gee, thanks.” She smiled, then shifted on the hard floor. The pain in her back was getting worse by the minute. All she wanted was to crawl into her own bed, but even that didn’t bring much relief these days. It wasn’t just that she felt as if she’d swallowed a basketball; it was that someone kept pumping the sucker bigger and bigger.
