Читать книгу Playing by the Baby Rules - Michelle Celmer, Michelle Celmer - Страница 9

Sex?

Jake walked beside Marisa to the park in stunned silence. Lucy thought he would be perfect for sex? That was…whoa. He wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to respond. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but Marisa knew he didn’t do relationships. Unless a relationship wasn’t what Lucy had in mind.

“I warned you,” Marisa said, her cheeks two hot pink smudges against a smooth olive complexion. “But you just had to know.”

She’d warned him, and as usual, she was right. Once again he had let curiosity get the best of him. One of these days he would learn not to stick his nose into other people’s business. How many times as a child had his curious nature gotten him several sound whacks from the old man’s belt, or a crack across the jaw from the back of his hand?

They reached the park and automatically walked to the oak tree next to the fountain. Beneath a canopy of gnarled branches and dense green leaves, he spread the blanket on the grass and set the cooler down. He tugged his shirt over his head, rolled it into a makeshift pillow, and sprawled out on his back.

Marisa kicked off her sandals and sat down next to him, tossing her long, chestnut hair over her shoulder and tucking her knees under her chin. “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”

Lucy—sex. Right. He propped himself up on his elbows. “Um, I don’t know what to say.”

A deep crease set in the middle of Marisa’s brow—her disappointed face. Damn. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but, Lucy?

“Lucy is nice, and I know you two are good friends, but…” He shrugged. “She’s not really my type.”

“Lucy?” The crease in her brow deepened, and for a second she looked as confused as he was feeling, then she started to laugh. Her laugh was full and rich and musical—like a symphony. He loved making her laugh, seeing her happy. Though, it would have been nice to know why she was laughing.

“Feel like letting me in on the joke?”

“You think I want you to go out with Lucy?”

Now he was totally confused. “Don’t you?”

She laughed harder, her eyes overflowing with tears. “Don’t worry, Jake. Lucy doesn’t want to go out with you. She was speaking hypothetically.”

“Oh. Well, I’m flattered, I guess.” What he really wanted to know, but would never ask, was what did Marisa think? And why had they been talking about him in the first place? Would Marisa ever consider him…?

No. He dismissed the idea before it could evolve into something stronger, like hope. He’d learned not to hope for things that were never meant to be. Especially not that.

Everyone had a destiny, and for him, a family just wasn’t in the cards. He would hurt them, then he would have to spend the rest of his life regretting it. Maybe if things were different.

But things weren’t different. They never would be, and every now and then he had to remind himself of that.

Rolling onto his stomach, he opened the cooler and unpacked the sandwiches, potato chips and diet sodas he’d picked up at the deli on Fourth Street. “Chicken salad or tuna?”

“You know, you shouldn’t run around half-naked,” Marisa said, taking the chicken salad. “It’s embarrassing. You’re giving every female in the park a hot flash.”

He looked around, noticed several pairs of female eyes glued in his direction, then turned back to Marisa, who was picking onions off her sandwich and tossing them onto the grass. Not every female.

He reached over and tugged on the sleeve of her blouse, wondering how she didn’t melt in the blistering heat covered from head to toe in yards of fabric. For reasons he’d never understood, she hid her voluptuous curves behind loose draping clothes. “I’ll put some clothes on if you take some off.”

She gave him an eye roll. “You’re very funny.”

“I’m serious, Marisa. You have a nice figure. Why do you always keep it covered?”

“Trust me, if you looked like this, you’d keep it covered too.”

“You know, lots of men like voluptuous women.”

Do you like voluptuous women? The question balanced on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. One, because she knew he preferred his women tall, blond and waify—the antithesis to her own short, dark and curvy—and two, because it didn’t matter one way or the other. He was her best friend, her buddy. He didn’t find her attractive in that way.

“Maybe I just don’t like the kind of men who would like a woman like that,” she said. She knew exactly the kind of men who liked a woman like her—the kind who wanted only one thing from a voluptuous body. The kind of men her mother used to drag home from the bar. The kind of men who, when they tired of her mother, turned their attention to Marisa. A teenager. Though none had even tried anything physical, their leering eyes had been enough to make her feel violated and defiled. Dirty.

Maybe her mother could live that way, but Marisa knew she could never be that kind of woman—not for any reason.

Across the park, she heard the delighted squeals of children playing. She forced herself not to look, for fear that her heart would break. For her, there would be no meaningless sex with a stranger. She could never live with herself. She would have to accept that, until she could afford some artificial means of impregnation or foreign adoption, there would be no children in her life. And if she were never able to afford it, or it took too long, she would have to accept that motherhood for her wasn’t meant to be.

The possibility felt like a knife in her chest, and for a moment she thought for sure that her heart was breaking.

“Marisa? Hey, are you crying?”

Reaching up, she touched her cheek and was surprised to find that it was damp. What was wrong with her? Embarrassed, she sniffled and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

Jake sat up next to her. “God, I’m sorry. I was just kidding. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“Jake, it wasn’t you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind today. You know, baby stuff.”

He smacked his forehead. “The fertility specialist. I completely forgot about your appointment. What did he say?”

“It’s not looking like it’s going to happen anytime soon. If ever.” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and she brushed them away, forcing a smile. “Just ignore me.”

Jake had learned from years of experience that solitude was the last thing Marisa wanted or needed at a time like this. She had the unhealthy habit of letting things eat away at her until a total emotional meltdown was inevitable. It looked like this would be one for the record books.

“Com’ere,” he said.

She looked up at him, her deep brown eyes full of pain. Her lower lip quivered as she bravely fought her tears. “I’m okay, really.”

“No, you’re not. I know how much having a baby means to you.” Shifting closer, he tugged her toward him. It was all the coercing she needed to dissolve into his arms. He held her, stroking her hair as a river of her tears, intermingled with his sweat, rolled down his bare chest to the waist of his pants. The sensation was almost…erotic.

Erotic? He instantly felt like a slime. She needed comfort—a shoulder to cry on. Impure thoughts involving Marisa had been excusable back in middle school when his hormones had been raging and her breasts had just begun developing. Since then, he’d managed to keep those urges in check. For the most part, at least. Every now and then he indulged in a little fantasy, like finding out what she was hiding under all of those clothes. She owned a lingerie shop. It just stood to reason that she wore sexy underthings. He could imagine her in lace—red lace. Or better yet, black.

A sudden and intense tug of arousal stole his breath. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking about black lace. Especially when it pertained to Marisa’s body. It was just that he’d never felt the caress of her hands on his bare back, or noticed how sweet her hair smelled, or how soft it felt against his cheek.

Maybe he’d just never felt the lush swell of her breasts—

Whoa, stop right there. He was not going to start thinking about her breasts. Though he had to admit that it was tough to ignore them when they pillowed so softly against him. And he realized suddenly, that his hands were straying lower, gently caressing her through her blouse, exploring places they shouldn’t be.

She chose that moment to pull back and dig a tissue out of her pocket. “I’m really sorry about this,” she said, wiping her nose. She gave him a shaky smile, tears still clinging to her long, dark lashes. “I guess I needed to vent.”

“Vent on me anytime,” he said. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“Oh, jeez, I got you all wet.” She pulled a fresh tissue out and wiped the moisture from his shoulder and chest. Sliding lower, closer to his waist, her fingers brushed against the taut skin of his stomach and a stab of desire pierced his gut. Instinctively he jerked.

She looked at him strangely, then, as if realizing what she’d done, her eyes widened and she yanked her hand back. “Sorry.”

There was a brief, awkward silence then her lower lip began to tremble and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

It broke his heart to see her so miserable. If anyone deserved unconditional happiness, it was Marisa.

Abandoning any inappropriate thoughts, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Marisa. Is there anything I can do to help?”

You could have sex with me. Marisa wondered what his reaction would be if she were to blurt it out. Would he be appalled? Intrigued? Would he fall back on the blanket laughing hysterically?

Probably the latter. There was no use speculating, because it would never happen. She would never work up the nerve to ask. She would never be able to handle the rejection when she heard that inevitable no.

“It comes down to me not having enough money saved,” she said, sniffling and resting her cheek against his damp shoulder. “I considered mortgaging the shop to make up the difference, but if I’m going to have a baby, I don’t want to jeopardize my financial security.”

“If I could, I would lend you the money, but producing this CD is sucking up all of my cash. I’ve had people calling me constantly with studio work, so much I’ve had to turn some of it down, but things are still tight.”

“I’ll get over this—eventually.”

Jake’s arms tightened around her. She felt the tickle of his breath against her hair, smelled the balmy scent of the spearmint candies he bought by the case since he’d given up cigarettes. Was it just her imagination or had they been touching each other an awful lot today? Or maybe they had always touched each other and it just felt different now. Not just different, but…nice.

Too nice.

“What really sucks,” he said, “is that if we pooled our money together, we could probably do one or the other, but that would mean one of us would have to sacrifice.”

“I could still get pregnant,” she said. “I would just have to find a man to—” She realized her mistake the second the words were out, but it was too late to take them back.

The hand that had been gently rubbing her shoulder came to a dead stop. “Find a man to do what, Marisa?”

There was a long, silent pause. Marisa extracted herself from Jake’s arms and glanced down at her wrist. “Wow, will you look at the time.”

Jake noted with amusement that she wasn’t wearing a watch. “Where are you going?”

“I should head back to the shop. Lucy probably needs me.”

As Jake watched her hastily rewrap her untouched sandwich and stuff it into the cooler, everything began to make a weird sort of sense. “When I walked into the store today, what were you and Lucy talking about?”

She avoided his eyes. “You know. The sex thing.”

“But why were you talking about it?”

“No reason.” She started to get up, but he reached for her arm and tugged her back down.

“You’re blushing again,” he said.

She reached up and pressed her fingers to her cheek.

“Were you talking about getting pregnant when I walked in?” he asked.

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she nodded.

Holy—

Jake’s heart began to race. He could hardly choke out the next question. “Is that what Lucy meant when she said I would be perfect?”

He could barely believe it when her head wobbled up and down. He dropped her arm and sat back, stunned. Him getting Marisa pregnant? Lucy thought he would be perfect, but what did Marisa think? What did he think?

There was one obvious advantage to the situation—sex with Marisa. That alone would be tough to pass up. But he’d decided a long time ago that he would never have a family. He would be a lousy father, and an equally lousy husband. But Marisa wasn’t looking for a family, he reminded himself. She just wanted a baby.

His baby?

“I know.” Marisa laughed nervously. “I told Lucy what a stupid idea it is. I mean, you and me having a baby? Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, right,” he agreed, equal parts disappointment and relief burning through him. Either she didn’t think he was good enough to father her child, or the thought of making love to him was so repulsive she would never consider it.

No matter the reason, she was probably right. It was a crazy idea.

“So, you ready to go?” Marisa stood next to the blanket, cooler in hand. The sun burned bright behind her, hiding her face in shadow, but he could tell by her tone that she was anxious to leave. He’d lost his appetite anyway.

“Yeah, sure.” He pulled his shirt on and balled up the blanket, tucking it under his arm. They were both quiet as they walked back to her shop. When they got there she handed him the cooler.

“This isn’t going to make things weird, is it?” she asked, concern etched in the corners of her eyes. “You know, the whole baby thing.”

If he let it, maybe. But he wasn’t going to let himself take it personally. Nor could he blame her for thinking he wouldn’t be the right man to father her child. After all, she knew him better than anyone.

“Do you know how many women have come up to me after a show and offered to have my children?” He gave her a playful nudge. “I’m used to it.”

She handed him the cooler. “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

She reached for the door handle, then stopped, turning back to him. “Because it would be kind of strange. You know, you and me…together.”

He nodded. “Yep. Pretty strange.”

“I mean, not bad strange. Just, different. It would change everything.”

“It certainly would.” Possibly for the better. Or possibly not. It was the not side of that coin that made him uneasy. Without Marisa, he wouldn’t have anyone. He wasn’t prepared to jeopardize their friendship.

“You’re playing tonight?” Marisa asked.

“Nine-thirty. If you’re planning on coming, I’ll stop by and walk you down. It’s on my way. We’re trying out some new material tonight.”

“Okay.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes.” She pulled the door open, letting out a rush of cool dry air, then stopped again, turning back to him. She looked as if she might say something, then she shook her head and disappeared inside.

The bells over the door jingled softly as it swung shut, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite his assurances otherwise, things had changed anyway.