The Baby Bargain Read online

  "'When' I get the company going again?" he questioned, registering her choice of words. "You don't seem to have much doubt about it."

  She shrugged. "It's what you want to do, isn't it? And you strike me as someone who generally does what they truly want to do."

  "You mean I'm pigheaded," he said, his mouth turning up in a half smile.

  "Determined is a more polite word," she suggested, giving him that shy smile that never failed to stir something in his chest. "I suspect you can do just about anything you set your mind to."

  "Thanks." Her simple faith in him felt good. Especially since, at the moment, he wasn't sure whether the idea of rebuilding Remington Construction was inspiration or insanity.

  Their eyes met and, for a moment, something seemed to pass between them. Kelly looked away before Dan could quite get hold of what it might be.

  "Well, I should let you get back to your paperwork," she said. She turned to pick up a stack of library books from the counter. Dan frowned at them.

  "Did you walk to the library again? I told you I could drive you there."

  "You weren't here. And it's not that far."

  "It's almost two miles."

  "I'm used to walking."

  "Not when you're pregnant."

  The word hung in the air between them, as if painted in neon

  letters. Kelly's cheeks reddened and then paled, her hands tightening around the books. He'd broken a cardinal rule by saying it out loud. Generally he abided by Kelly's obvious wish to pretend that the baby didn't exist. But they couldn't go on pretending forever.

  "Dr. Linden says walking is good for me," she said in a strained voice.

  "Fine. But only if it's what you want to do. You should have a car. But first you've got to get your driver's license. Maybe this weekend I could start teaching you."

  "All right." But the animation was gone from her voice.

  Dan watched her leave the room before turning back to the paperwork in front of him. He stared at the forms for a moment before muttering a curse. Tossing down his pen, he shoved his chair back from the table. Stalking to the window, he stared out at the park across the street. It was empty now, swathed in darkness. But it wouldn't be long before the lights on the soft-ball field would be turned on at dusk, symbolic proof that spring had fully arrived and summer couldn't be far behind.

  And not long after summer ended, he'd be a father.

  Kelly's stubborn denial of that reality was frustrating. They couldn't keep ignoring the fact. Already he could see small changes in her body—a slight thickening of her waist, hardly visible if you weren't looking for it, an extra fullness in her breasts. Soon it was going to be obvious that she was carrying a child—his child.

  The thought was shockingly erotic.

  His frown became a scowl as he felt a familiar tightness in his body. He wanted her. Was that such a terrible thing? After all, if he hadn't found her attractive three months ago, he wouldn't have brought her back here and none of this would be happening now.

  She was soft and feminine, all big brown eyes and milky-white skin. He'd have to be half dead not to want her. And the fact that she was pregnant with his child only added to the attraction. This primitive reaction was one he hadn't bargained on when he'd suggested that she stay here with him.

  It was a small apartment and a certain amount of intimacy

  was unavoidable. There was no way to avoid seeing her just after a bath, her skin scrubbed fresh and damp, her hair curling around her face. His eyes couldn't help but trace the perfectly modest neckline of her robe. What would she do if he reached out and loosened the belt she'd snugged around her waist? Would she be frightened and angry or would she melt the way she'd melted on New Year's Eve?

  Cursing himself, he spun away from the window. He had no business standing here letting his imagination run wild like a randy teenager. He'd promised to take care of her, not lust after her.

  Had he been wrong to insist that she have the baby? Should he have given her the money she'd asked for and walked away? He stopped next to the table, neatening the stacks of paper with one hand, his expression moody. How could he have walked away once she'd told him she was pregnant? It was his child She'd made him a part of the decision by coming to him— even if she'd only done it because she had nowhere else to go.

  He wanted this baby. That much he'd known from the beginning. What he hadn't expected was to find himself wanting its mother quite as much as he did.

  Kelly shut the bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, the library books held to her chest. She was an idiot to get so upset just because Dan had mentioned that she was pregnant. It was a reality and no amount of pretending was going to change it.

  Pretending was exactly what she'd been doing. She'd been pretending she was someone else, pretending she was here for another reason, pretending she wasn't carrying a child she'd promised to give away.

  Angry at the tears that blurred her vision, she straightened away from the door. She tossed the books on the bed and reached for the buttons of her blouse. It was time she made herself look at things as they really were. This wasn't a fairy tale she was living in. This was real life, and she didn't dare forget the reason Dan was taking care of her—the only reason.

  A few minutes later she stood in front of the full-length

  mirror. She still wasn't accustomed to seeing so much of herself at one time. Her father had allowed only one small mirror in her tiny bedroom, saying that mirrors only encouraged vanity and vanity was sin. But it wasn't vanity that drove her now.

  She'd turned on all three lamps in the room and light spilled over her nude body, illuminating it so clearly that Kelly cringed. She'd never stood naked in front of a mirror before and it seemed shocking to do so. She stifled the urge to turn away, forcing herself to really look at her reflection.

  The bruises her father had inflicted had faded, leaving only memories. Her skin was pale and smooth, unblemished. She touched her hand lightly to her waist. It was thicker than it used to be. She'd put on weight this past month. Some of it could be attributed to the fact that she was eating well for the first time in her life, but not all of it. Her breasts seemed heavier, more tender, and that had nothing to do with how well she was eating. The baby was making its presence known, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

  Kelly spun away from the mirror, grabbing the robe she'd draped over the foot of the bed and thrusting her arms into it, not daring to look in the mirror again until she had it securely belted around her waist.

  Crossing to the window, she stared out at the park across the street. When she'd first come here, frost had crisped the grass at night. But spring was elbowing winter out of the way and the grass didn't carry a carpet of white in the mornings anymore.

  Time was passing. Summer wasn't far off. Soon her pregnancy would be obvious. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass, closing her eyes against the tears that threatened. She cried much more easily now—another sign of pregnancy, she supposed.

  She'd felt so odd today, listening to Brittany Sinclair say she was pregnant. For a moment, she'd felt an intense connection with the other woman. She'd wanted to tell Brittany about her own pregnancy, to strengthen the tentative bonds of friendship that had only just begun to grow. She'd felt excited, eager to

  share it with another woman, someone who could understand the changes she was going through.

  She'd never really had a female friend, someone to share things with. The few friendships she'd had when she was a girl had ended so long ago. She hadn't quite realized how lonely she'd been until Brittany had shown up on the doorstep, apologizing for dropping in unannounced.

  With someone else, there might have been awkward moments. Brittany didn't allow such things. She freely admitted that she was nosy. She'd said she'd known Dan forever and she wanted to get to know Kelly.

  She'd invited herself to lunch, then helped prepare it. It was like being run over by a cheerful steamroller, Kelly tho
ught now. Brittany might have admitted to nosiness but she hadn't asked a lot of questions; at least, not about Kelly's relationship with Dan. She'd seemed to have nothing more in mind than just what she'd said—she wanted to get to know Kelly.

  Kelly hadn't realized how starved she'd been for feminine companionship until Brittany's visit. They barely knew each other and their conversation was not deeply personal, but it was pleasant to talk to another woman. It was pleasant to talk to someone with whom she did not share a tangled past.

  She'd had the urge to tell Brittany about the baby, another link in the fledgling friendship. But then she'd remembered. She couldn't tell Brittany about the baby. How could she tell her about the baby when it wasn't even hers to keep? What would Brittany say to that? Would she understand something Kelly herself couldn't really understand?

  She turned away from die window, glancing again at her reflection in the mirror. She had to keep some distance between herself and this child. For the sake of her own emotional health, she couldn't begin to think of this child as hers. Not in any real sense.

  This was all a temporary arrangement. It was as if she was putting her life on hold, just long enough to have this baby. Once she'd had it, the child—and Dan—would be out of her life forever. She couldn't afford to lose sight of that. She couldn't become attached, not to the baby or to Dan. She had

  to keep a certain distance. Though whether or not that was possible...

  Dan had been kind to her. He was giving her a chance at a new life. But he was only doing that because of the baby. It wasn't that he had any deep personal interest in her. The moments when it seemed as if there was a connection between them—something more than the child they'd so foolishly created—those moments were undoubtedly tricks of an overactive imagination.

  Kelly sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the nubby surface of the tan bedspread. She'd made the right choices—the best choices for her and this child she didn't dare love. It might not be easy to walk away from either Dan or the baby, but she'd have to find the strength to do it.

  She realized that she'd set one hand over her stomach, cradling the life she carried. This time there was no stopping the tears that sprang to her eyes. Curling up on her side, she buried her face in the pillow, letting it absorb her tears.

  Spring came on full of gentle promise. Winter-browned grass sprang to life. The trees leafed out seemingly overnight. The birds returned from their winter nesting places, making the air sing with their calls as they courted and built nests. The last traces of winter disappeared beneath a barrage of greenery.

  To Kelly it seemed as if time was racing by. Her life had changed so quickly, she felt as if she was still trying to catch up with it. There had been no gradual period of change when she could adjust to a new life, new circumstances. In the space of a week, her old life had been left behind and a new life begun.

  True to his promise, Dan provided her with her first driving lesson—and it was nearly her last. It would have been hard to say which made more noise—the grinding of gears or the grinding of Dan's teeth.

  The Corvette lurched down the street like a drunken rabbit as Kelly struggled to keep in mind the proper sequence of clutch and gearshift. It wasn't easy when half her attention was on Dan's increasingly anguished expression.

  "Clutch, then shift," he got out in a voice that was clearly trying for patience. Flustered, Kelly stepped on the brakes instead, nearly throwing them both through the narrow windshield.

  "Clutch! Put the clutch in," Dan all but moaned.

  The car mercifully stalled. Kelly dropped her hands from the wheel, letting them rest in her lap. Though the temperature had barely reached seventy, she felt beads of perspiration on her forehead. The short-sleeved sweater and slacks that had seemed so comfortable earlier suddenly felt as if they were made of heavy wool instead of soft cotton.

  Neither of them spoke for a moment. Dan stared out the windshield, a vaguely shell-shocked look about his eyes. Kelly stole one glance at him and then stared at the steering wheel.

  "Okay," Dan said finally, his voice weak. "Let's try it again."

  "Maybe this isn't a good idea," Kelly suggested. "I don't have to have a driver's license."

  "Yes, you do. This town isn't set up for someone who doesn't have a car and you can't keep walking everywhere. Besides, driving is really simple, and once you've learned to drive a standard, an automatic will be a breeze."

  Kelly stifled the urge to suggest that she'd rather learn the easy version first.

  Pushing the clutch in, she turned the key, aware that her hands were moist with nervousness. The engine started with a roar that never failed to startle her. She tried to tune out Dan's continuous stream of instructions, the way his hands clutched at the edges of his seat, and concentrate on the simple pattern— or what should have been a simple pattern.

  The gears ground together with a pained shriek of metal on metal. Echoing it was Dan's moan of pain. Panicked, Kelly hit the brake, remembering too late to push the clutch in. The car lurched to a shuddering stop.

  For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Kelly's stomach churned with a mixture of nerves and anger. If only he'd shut up for a few minutes, she might be able to figure it out.

  "Look, it's really very simple," Dan said in a tone that was so reasonable it was an insult.

  "I don't want to learn to drive," she said, aware that she sounded childish and beyond caring.

  "It's not hard. I'll go over it one more time."

  "I don't want to learn to drive." She fumbled with the latch on her seat belt.

  "It's not hard," Dan repeated through gritted teeth. "Look at all the idiots on the road who have managed to get licenses. If they can do it, you certainly won't have a problem."

  "I may not have a high-school diploma," she told him in a trembling voice, "and I may have done some pretty stupid things recently, but I do not like being called an idiot." Kelly got the seat belt loose and jerked the door open. She was halfway out of the car before Dan realized what she was talking about.

  "Wait a minute!"

  She didn't pause. Dan yanked open his own door, thrusting his long legs out and then muttering a curse when he realized he hadn't undone the seat belt. He stepped in front of her as she came around the hood.

  "I didn't mean that you were an idiot," he protested.

  She stopped in front of him since it was either that or make it a point to walk around him. In defiance, she didn't lift her eyes above the third button on his shirt.

  "Kelly, I wasn't saying that I thought you were an idiot," he repeated. "I was trying to make you feel more confident."

  "It's supposed to make me feel more confident to be compared to the other idiots on the road? If they can do it, heaven knows even / should be able to manage."

  "That's not what I meant at all." Dan thrust his fingers through his hair, looking around as if hoping for an inspiration. They hadn't made it more than a few yards away from the apartment building, and he didn't have to look to know that nosy neighbor Mrs. Barnett was watching this whole operation from her window. Since Kelly had moved in with him, his every move was once again being carefully scrutinized.

  "I was just trying to get you to relax by telling you how

  simple driving is. Any fool can learn." He immediately regretted his choice of words but it was too late to take them back.

  "Any fool but not me, right?" Kelly tried to step around him but he sidestepped, blocking her path.

  "I didn't mean that. Oh, damn. Look, I don't think you're an idiot, okay? I didn't mean to hint, imply, suggest or say that you were. I just want you to see how simple it is. If you would just relax a little."

  "If you'd stop bellowing instructions at me, it would be a lot easier," she flared, lifting her head to glare at him. Dan couldn't have been more startled if the car itself had risen up to chastise him.

  "Bellowing?"

  "You keep telling me what to do. You never give me a chance to think.
How am I supposed to figure out when to step on the stupid clutch when you're always talking? And the clutch is too hard for me to push, anyway."

  She looked harried and irritable. What she didn't look was frightened. Dan felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. She wasn't afraid he would be angry that she had snapped at him. She was reacting like any normal person would.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she snapped, her frown deepening as she caught the hint of a smile.

  "You're absolutely right," he said, sidestepping her question. "I have been yammering on at you. It's a wonder you didn't scream at me."

  "Well, you weren't really yammering," she said, softening now that he showed some understanding.

  "Why didn't you tell me that the clutch was too hard?"

  "It's not that hard."

  "But it's difficult for you to push?"

  "I think my legs are too short." Moments ago, she'd been ready to consign him and his car to the devil. But all it had taken was for him to show a little understanding and she could forget her annoyance.

  "I could offer a solution." They both turned as a new voice

  entered the conversation. Ben Masters leaned against the side of Dan's car.

  4 'How long have you been here?" Dan asked, not entirely pleased to see his friend.

  "Long enough to catch the tail end of what looked like a not-too-successful driving lesson. Hi, Kelly."

  "Hello."

  The smile she gave Ben held none of the wariness she so often showed toward him, Dan noted. From the beginning, Kelly had been comfortable with Ben in a way she'd never been with him.

  "We were doing all right," Dan said.

  "Oh, then you intended to teach Kelly how to strip the gears?"

  "I'm not a very good student," Kelly said, coming to Dan's defense.

  "I've heard it said that there are no bad students, only poor teachers," Ben said to no one in particular.

  "Did you have a reason for coming over or did you just want to be obnoxious?" Dan asked sourly, catching the laughter in Ben's eyes. The problem with Ben was that he was almost impossible to insult.