Читать книгу Her Best Friend's Baby - Vicki Thompson Lewis - Страница 11

MARY JANE DID the best she could by the steamed vegetables Morgan so endearingly insisted on fixing for their lunch. She wasn’t very hungry, but she didn’t think he was, either, and yet he ate the veggies with such determination that she had to follow suit.

She used the time to find out a little more about his background and discovered that he had a younger brother named Scott who was traveling through Europe with his girlfriend and wouldn’t be home for several months, although he called home every couple of weeks. Morgan’s parents had said they wouldn’t tell Scott about the accident until he returned home so his trip wouldn’t be spoiled.

“But wouldn’t he want to know?” Mary Jane thought his parents’ attitude was a little callous and hated to think they were cutting off another source of emotional support for their eldest son.

“Maybe not.” Morgan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Scott tends to avoid unpleasant things, too. It was the way we were raised. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to race home just to hold my hand. That would be pretty selfish. He’s spent a long time saving for this trip.”

And his only brother has suffered a devastating loss, she thought. She couldn’t say that, though, because it wasn’t her place to butt into their family dynamics. So she changed the subject, and they talked about what it had been like for him growing up in snowy New York compared with her childhood in sunny Texas.

But as they cleaned up the lunch dishes, her thoughts returned to Morgan’s family members and how their remote behavior had left him so alone at this critical time in his life. She was beginning to feel very protective of him.

No wonder he’d come to Austin. No wonder he didn’t want to leave. Not that she wanted him to, at least not right away. Once he was gone she could turn to Lana, Beth and Ellie, of course, and they’d help her get through the grieving.

But—and this was tough to admit—they’d never been crazy about Arielle. In fact, when Mary Jane had first told them she was planning to carry Arielle’s baby, they’d wondered how Arielle could ask such a thing of her. She’d tried to explain that she wanted to do this for Arielle, but they’d made it clear they thought Arielle was not thinking of Mary Jane’s best interests, considering she was only twenty-two and had never had a baby before.

Once the pregnancy had become a reality, though, her friends had come through like champs. She was positive they’d come through this time, too, and help her deal with her grief. But the fact that they hadn’t been totally pro Arielle would make their sympathy less comforting than Morgan’s.

Lana. Mary Jane remembered that Lana had expected her to call back. She needed to make that call, although she probably wouldn’t tell Lana about Arielle over the phone. Lana would be over here in a shot, and Mary Jane wanted to protect Morgan’s privacy a little longer. Or keep him to myself? Maybe that, too.

She finished wiping the kitchen counter and draped the dishrag over the faucet. “Thanks for fixing lunch.”

“I take it you don’t eat like that very often.”

She smiled at him. “Would you believe never?”

He winced. “I’m afraid to ask what you usually eat.”

“Diner food, if you’re talking about lunch. I’d probably do burgers and fries most of the time, but you’ll be happy to know that Shelby usually pushes a helping of green beans or a salad at me. Come to think of it, our cook Sara’s been on me about my diet, too. So if you want to give me a lecture, you’ll have to get in line.”

“At least it’s not fast food.”

“Oh, I’ve been known to take a swing by those places on occasion. But the diner’s kind of spoiled me for fast food.” She reached for the vitamins she kept on the counter and got a glass of water. “And I’m very good about taking these. Don’t I get points for that?”

“Sure. You get a million points just for agreeing to carry this baby.” He sighed heavily. “But in case you hadn’t noticed, I have a slight tendency to try and control things.”

“No, really?” She gazed at him with some fondness. It was perfectly natural for him to want to control things after a freak accident had taken away the person he loved most. If it made him feel better to force veggies on her for a few days, it was no big deal. He’d be going home soon.

She closed the vitamins and put them on the counter. “I need to make a quick phone call,” she said. “A friend left a message on my machine yesterday.” It seemed impossible it had only been yesterday. She felt as if five years had gone by since then.

His warm brown eyes clouded with uncertainty. “A guy?”

“No, a woman. Lana Lord. She’s an old friend.”

“Oh.” He looked relieved.

She wondered at his reaction. He’d acted as if he’d been afraid she was about to tell him she had a boyfriend. Could he possibly imagine she would have allowed last night to happen if she did have a man in her life? “I decided not to date for the duration,” she said. “To simplify things.”

He studied her for a long time. “I don’t think I had a clue how this pregnancy would turn your life upside down. This is the time when you should be dating, going to parties. You’re only twenty-two, for God’s sake.”

She grimaced. “I do know that, and if I had any doubt, you’ve reminded me about a hundred times in the past twelve hours.”

“Maybe I have to remind myself, because obviously I wasn’t thinking much about it when we came up with this plan. I was so focused on what I wanted that I’ve been guilty of…well, using you. That’s inexcusable.”

“You make it sound as if I had no say in the matter. As I keep telling you, I wanted to do this as a special gift for Arielle, who’s done so much for me. I’ve never once felt used or taken advantage of.”

“Well, maybe you should have.”

“But I didn’t.” She rested her hand against the gentle swell of her belly. “And it’s a little late to worry about that now, isn’t it?”

His gaze fell to where her hand rested. Warmth gradually replaced the concern in his brown eyes. “I confess that I love looking at you and knowing you’re carrying this baby,” he murmured, glancing into her eyes. “I may be having a real attack of conscience about the sacrifices you’re making, but I don’t wish that baby away. Not for a minute.”

She had the feeling that if he’d trusted himself to do it, he’d have come closer and put his hand on her stomach. The yearning was there in his eyes. She wanted him to touch her there, too, but she didn’t think the touching would end with that, so she’d be better off not encouraging him.

“I guess you should make your call,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll call her from upstairs.” She started to leave the kitchen.

“Are you going to tell her?”

She turned to him. “Not yet.”

“I don’t mean to cut you off from your friends at a time like this. If you want to tell her, if you want to go over and see her, it’s fine with me.”

She was touched that he’d say that when she doubted he’d really want her to desert him today. “There’s time for that after you leave,” she said.

He looked into her eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She wanted to go over and hug him, because he sure looked as if he could use a hug. If last night hadn’t happened, she’d probably be able to get away with doing that. But last night had happened, and a hug was too risky now. Eventually maybe they could be casually affectionate, but it wouldn’t happen today. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and hurried upstairs.

The phone conversation was tricky, and no doubt Lana suspected something was going on, but Mary Jane was able to stall her friend for a few days. From Lana’s teasing reaction, she probably thought Mary Jane had met a guy and had reconsidered her self-imposed ban on dating. Lana had warned her she might be sorry if the right guy came along and she refused to give him the time of day.

Apparently Morgan felt she was making a terrible sacrifice to have given up dating. She thought about that as she combed her hair and put on fresh lipstick. The fact was, she’d been discouraged with the prospects recently. Compared with someone like Morgan, they were…uh-oh. Her lipstick only half applied, she paused and stared at herself in the mirror.

Comparing past boyfriends with Morgan was a bad sign. She could not allow herself to fantasize, even for a second, that there could ever be anything but a strong friendship between her and Morgan. They would always be linked by the baby, but this unusual intimacy they were experiencing was brought on by shared tragedy and wouldn’t last. Besides, he’d been Arielle’s husband. Getting involved with him beyond what had happened the night before would be just too weird. End of story.

Finishing with her lipstick, she headed downstairs, but she hesitated when she saw Morgan sitting on her flowered couch with his back to her. He held a framed picture in both hands, and although he blocked most of it, she could see a corner of the frame and knew exactly which one he had. She’d also have known by glancing at the top of her television cabinet where this particular photo was missing from the collection she had displayed there.

It was a professional portrait that Arielle had had taken when she was twenty-two, the same age as Mary Jane was now and a year before Arielle had met Morgan. The head shot showed Arielle gazing dreamily into the distance instead of looking at the camera. Not a blond hair was out of place. Mary Jane thought of it as Arielle’s Mona Lisa picture because of the mysterious little smile on her face.

Morgan sat quietly, his shoulders still, so at least he wasn’t weeping uncontrollably, but Mary Jane hated to intrude. Yet if she went upstairs, he might hear her retreating and be even more embarrassed. A lump in her throat, she sat quietly on the carpeted stairs and waited for him to put the picture back.

Instead he continued to stare at it. Tears filled Mary Jane’s eyes and dripped silently down her cheeks and into her lap. She felt a raw, jagged hole in the place where Arielle had always been, but she hadn’t lived with Arielle in years. What must it be like for Morgan, who had built his entire existence around this beautiful blond woman? Mary Jane couldn’t comprehend what he must be going through.

Finally he stood, walked slowly to the television cabinet and replaced the picture, tilting it exactly the way it had been before.

Mary Jane had intended to stand immediately and pretend she’d just been coming downstairs, but she was crying too much to pull that off, so she continued to sit on the steps. A small whimper must have escaped her lips, because Morgan turned quickly.

She’d expected to see tears on his face, too. He looked devastated, but he was dry-eyed.

Catching sight of her sitting there, he hurried over and came up the stairs to crouch in front of her. “Poor Mary Jane,” he crooned, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m so sorry for you,” she cried, choking back a sob. “How can you bear it?”

“I can bear it,” he said softly, brushing her damp cheeks with his thumbs. “It’s you I’m worried about. You were closer to her than anyone.”

“That’s silly.” She hiccuped and swallowed fresh sobs. “She was your w-wife.”

“I know.” His eyes searched hers. “And after six years, I still didn’t feel that I really knew her. We shared a house, a marriage, a bed, but she never really let me get close to her.”

She understood the gift he was giving her, to reveal something so stark and hurtful. Placing her hands over his, she mirrored his tenderness, cradling his hands against her face. Effortlessly she sank into the depths of his gaze, connecting with him on that same elemental level they’d reached the night before.

“I have to believe you knew her far better than I ever did,” he said, his tone raw and vulnerable. “So you must be in worse shape than I am.”

“Nobody really knew Arielle,” she whispered. It was something she’d never admitted to herself, let alone said out loud.

Confusion shadowed his eyes. “But surely, in the years when she was like a mother to you, she—”

Mary Jane swallowed. “She was like the perfect china teacups she collected,” she said in a hoarse voice. “No one ever saw a crack or a chip anywhere. I loved her, idolized her, wanted to be like her, but I knew I couldn’t ever make it. I was too…too…”

“Human?”

“Yeah.” She smiled sadly. “Way too human.”

“I guess that makes two of us.” The warmth in his eyes shifted subtly, taking on a different gleam. His grip tightened, and his attention drifted to her mouth.

She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d wanted a kiss more. But if she let Morgan kiss her in her present state of mind, or in his, they’d make love right on these stairs. Then they’d continue making love until finally she had to go back to work day after tomorrow. Yes, it would take away the sharp pain they both struggled with, but afterward they might never be able to forgive themselves.

She reached up and pressed two fingers against his mouth. A wonderful velvet mouth that would feel like heaven against hers. “No,” she said quietly.

He released her so fast she nearly tumbled forward into his arms. “Damn!” He steadied her quickly before letting go of her shoulders. Then he moved down a couple of steps and collapsed with his back against the railing. “I can’t imagine the opinion you have of me now.”

She took a shaky breath. “The same opinion I’ve always had. You’re a good guy stuck with no one to comfort you except me. And I’m—well, I’m sort of a babe. Your urges are perfectly natural.” She glanced at him. “And that’s babe, not baby.”

His mouth turned up. “You’re a whole bunch of things, Mary Jane, including a babe.”

“I wouldn’t even care if you kissed me,” she said. “Except I know where that would lead, and you’d hate yourself afterward.”

“You’ve got that right.” He closed his eyes. “Maybe you should take me to the airport this afternoon.”

The thought of him leaving abruptly made her stomach tighten. “I’d rather take you rowing on Town Lake.”

“And throw me overboard?”

“Not in those new clothes.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’ll go repair my makeup and then we’ll see the sights.”

He sighed. “Mary Jane, I don’t think I should stay. I—”

“Please stay. We have to work out how we’re going to be with each other, considering that I’ll want to keep in touch with this baby in the years ahead. If you go running off before we figure it out, we might feel awkward about our relationship for a long time. That wouldn’t be good for us or for the baby.”

He glanced up at her. “You sure are smart.”

“For a twenty-two-year-old?” She couldn’t resist.

“For any age. Okay, I’ll stay another day or two. And I promise to keep my hands off you. But you don’t have to play tour guide.”

“Look, you don’t know the area,” she said. “You didn’t come here with any props. No books to read, no projects to do. I’m not crazy about having the TV on during the day.”

“Good. Me, neither.”

“Then unless you want me to teach you how to crochet, I think sight-seeing is the best option.”

He smiled. “I’m no good at needlework. But how do you usually spend your days off? What would you be doing if I hadn’t shown up?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Sure, I do.”

“I’d probably be lolling around upstairs in my jammies, reading tabloids and painting my toenails.”

The poor guy’s tongue was nearly hanging out before he got himself under control. He cleared his throat. “Well, if that’s your usual routine, don’t mind me. I can—”

“Morgan, I’m not going to follow my usual routine. We’re dealing with unusual circumstances. Besides, I like my city. I enjoy showing it off.”

“Okay. But I’m beginning to feel like a leech, especially after you bought breakfast and groceries. Can I take you someplace really nice for dinner? Don’t forget I’m the proud owner of a gold card. What’s the most exclusive restaurant in Austin?”

He really was a sweetie. Arielle had talked about being treated like a queen, and Mary Jane could see how that was a real possibility with a guy like Morgan. Arielle had obviously loved all this wining and dining, but she hadn’t worked in a restaurant five or six days out of every week, either.

“That’s a nice thought,” she said, “and I appreciate it. But to tell you the truth, I’d rather rent a movie and order a pizza tonight. I suppose that doesn’t sound very exciting to someone from New York City, though.”

His gaze, usually so open, became unreadable. “You might be surprised.”

THE EMOTIONAL SHOCK of Arielle’s death must have shaken something loose in his brain, Morgan decided a couple of hours later as he pulled on the oars of the boat he and Mary Jane had rented. He was supposed to be admiring the Austin skyline visible at the far end of the lake, but instead he was admiring Mary Jane in the bow of the boat, and wondering how he’d get through another night in her town house without hitting on her. He didn’t remember being this obsessed with sex even as a sixteen-year-old.

She seemed unaware of his preoccupation, and he was sure she was making no effort to be provocative. Probably just the opposite. For the boat ride she’d changed into some lightweight drawstring pants, a faded, roomy T-shirt with the Texas Longhorns mascot on the front, and red sandals.

Maybe it was the sandals. Her exotically painted toenails peeked out from under the strap across her instep. Each chili-pepper-red toenail had a silver star in the middle that winked at him. She’d been barefoot when she’d come to the door last night, and although he didn’t remember paying any attention to her feet, part of his brain must have recorded those toenails and associated them with what went on later in her bed.

Or maybe it was the way she was leaning back against the end of the boat, her elbows on the rail, her knees slightly apart. Or his new black cowboy hat on her head. When he’d nearly lost it in the lake they’d decided that whoever wasn’t rowing should wear the hat, so they could keep one hand on it if the wind picked up.

So they’d traded, and he now wore her wire-rimmed sunglasses to shade his eyes and she wore the hat, pulling it low over her brow the way a desperado might. She looked so damn cute in that hat. The breeze was tangling her hair, which she’d left loose around her shoulders, and the sun was reflecting off the curls that escaped from the shade of the hat.

She clapped a hand over the crown and tilted her head to let a little sun fall directly on her face. “I spend too much time under artificial light,” she said. “It’s the only thing I regret about my job.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve often wished I could set up a booth in Central Park and see my patients there.”

She glanced at him with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be cool? I’ll bet kids wouldn’t mind coming to the doctor’s office so much if they didn’t have to sit in those scary little waiting rooms. You could call yourself the Doc in the Park. I think you should try it.”

“I’m pretty sure my insurance agent would have a heart attack.”

She waved a hand. “Minor detail. I’ll bet you could revolutionize pediatrics with a gig like that.” She sat up straighter. “Okay, my turn to row again.”

He didn’t want to give up the oars. For one thing, it kept his hands busy. “It can’t be. I just got started.”

“You’ve been rowing for at least fifteen minutes, and I admit you’re better at it than I thought you’d be, considering you’re such a city boy.”

“I keep telling you I was on the rowing team in college.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that doesn’t give you special privileges. Come on. Trade places with me. The rowing’s the fun part.”

“Another five minutes. Then we’ll switch.” He’d quickly discovered that physical exercise was exactly what he needed. Besides, rowing the boat across a section of water gave him a sense of accomplishment and control. Apparently he’d needed that, too.

Of course, Mary Jane needed and wanted those rewards as much as he did. He’d figured out right away that she wasn’t the type to sit in the boat and let the guy take the oars, no matter how many rowing medals he had stashed in his closet at home. She’d gone so far as to push back the sleeve of her T-shirt and flex her muscles for him to prove that she was capable of rowing them across the lake.

He’d never had a woman insist on doing her share of the manual labor, and he’d tried to talk her out of it, even using her pregnancy as a reason. She’d laughed and mentioned the heavy trays she carried at work every day. Finally he’d run out of arguments and had let her take the first turn at the oars, much to her delight.

Watching her row had proved to be its own special torture. Each time she’d pulled on the oars her breasts had thrust against the fabric of her T-shirt. By now he was pretty sure that Longhorns logo was burned permanently into his retina.

“Wasn’t this the greatest idea?” she asked.

“Yes.” He couldn’t believe how something so simple was so cleansing. He wasn’t really in shape for rowing, but the slight ache in his shoulders felt great. While he worked up a mild sweat and listened to the rhythm of the oars clunking against the oarlocks, he enjoyed the lush green of the trees surrounding the lake, the familiar dank scent of the water, the white clouds scudding across the sky and the sun warming his back. “It makes you feel glad to be a—” He brought the sentence to a screeching halt and stared at Mary Jane in horror at what he’d been about to say.

She leaned forward and put a hand on each of his knees. “We are alive,” she said, looking hard at him as she gripped his knees. “And, Morgan, that’s not our fault. We shouldn’t feel guilty about that.”

“I guess not.” But he had plenty of other things to feel guilty about, and topping the list was the selfish, wild pleasure he felt whenever she touched him. They’d rowed into a fairly secluded inlet, and nobody seemed to be around on this week day. If he had no conscience… But he did have a conscience, and fortunately it still worked. “You can have the oars now,” he said.