Her Best Friend's Baby

by Vicki Lewis Thompson, Stephanie Bond

  “Let go,” he murmured.

  And she did, gloriously, loudly, joyfully. Hallelujah and good morning. As the tremors slowed, she turned in his arms to look into his smiling eyes. She couldn’t believe something so wonderful could be a mistake, and he didn’t look as if he thought so, either.

  But in turning toward him, she’d brushed against the firm length of his penis and realized he was in dire straits himself. A gift such as he’d given deserved something in return. But when she put her hand against his erection, he moved away.

  “No?”

  “No,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

  “Why?”

  “I can justify it for you, but not for me.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t get it. We’re all entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of satisfaction.”

  “Some of us are more entitled than others.” He combed her hair from her face with great care and tenderness. “I’m a doctor, and I know full well that pregnant women often feel very sexual. In a more normal setting, you’d have a husband to help you out with that. That’s another thing that’s wrong with this setup.”

  “Wait a minute.” She drew away from his caress. “You did that because as a doctor you felt I needed it? Like a clinical procedure?”

  “No! There was nothing clinical about it!”

  “I didn’t think so, either, until you started talking like a guy standing over me in an examining room!” She scrambled out of bed. “I’m not your patient, Doc. And furthermore—”

  The phone interrupted her, which was a good thing, she decided as she reached to the nightstand and picked up the receiver. She’d been about to tell Morgan where he could stick his stethoscope. She needed time to count to ten before she said something she’d regret.

  “Mary Jane?” Shelby said her name in that apologetic way that told Mary Jane she was about to be asked to work. “I really hate to call you at the last minute like this, but Georgette has a family emergency. She said she’d fill in for you one day next week, if you could possibly—”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Mary Jane said. She glanced at Morgan, who had flopped down on the pillow and was staring at the ceiling, his brown eyes stormy.

  “You’re a good sport, Mary Jane,” Shelby said. “I hope you didn’t have anything big planned for today.”

  “Actually, I was working on a project, but it didn’t pan out, so I’m free.”

  That crack brought Morgan’s gaze to hers. She stuck out her tongue at him. He’d consider that juvenile, but he didn’t look so adult himself, lying there with a pink bunny by his elbow and a green frog sprawled on the pillow beside his head.

  “That’s my good luck, then,” Shelby said. “See you soon.”

  “Right. Bye.” Mary Jane hung up the phone. “They need me at work. If you want to drop me off, you can have the car for the day. I’m through a little after three, so you can pick me up around three-fifteen.”

  He held her gaze. “But if you took the car, I could call a cab to take me to the airport.”

  Impossible as he could sometimes be, like very recently, for example, she didn’t want him to leave. But he’d have to go eventually. His partner couldn’t handle both practices forever. And once she went back to work, she’d end up telling people about Arielle, and it would make the rounds. She and Morgan wouldn’t have time to themselves anymore.

  He sat up. “I think I’d better leave, Mary Jane.”

  “Probably.” She felt as if someone had wrapped her in a very heavy, stifling blanket. She really didn’t like this business of him leaving. But maybe it was for the best.

  “Okay. It’s settled then.” He swung his legs out of bed and stood. “I’ll fix you some breakfast while you get ready.”

  She couldn’t help looking at the way his T-shirt molded itself against his chest. And he really did have outstanding legs—muscled thighs and nicely shaped calves. He’d be fun to touch. “I usually don’t have much for breakfast.”

  His lips curved in a faint smile. “So I figured. But if I scramble some eggs and pour you some juice, will you give it a shot?”

  “Sure.” She could force down one more meal to please him. The thought of not having him there to supervise her diet was extremely depressing. She couldn’t be pleased, apparently. She resented his meddling, but she didn’t want him to stop doing it.

  He started out of the room. “How long before you’ll be down?”

  “Ten minutes.” She allowed herself to enjoy what might be her last good view of his butt in those skimpy briefs he wore. Damn, but she’d love to get her hands on those tight cheeks.

  “Ten minutes?” He turned in surprise and caught her ogling.

  She raised the level of her gaze and looked boldly into his eyes, determined to brave it out. Unfortunately she couldn’t control her blush.

  “You were staring at my butt.” He sounded astonished.

  “What if I was? Is there a law against that?”

  “No, it’s just—”

  “That you’re offended because I’m treating you like a sex object? Well, I didn’t mean for you to catch me at it, so I don’t think that counts.” She felt like staring at his crotch, because she had a sneaky suspicion something was going on down there, but she diligently held his gaze. “But if you’re offended, then I apologize for offending you.”

  “I’m not offended. I’m…I guess I’m flattered. Nobody’s ever—that is, I’ve never been aware that a woman was, uh, would want to…” He seemed at a total loss.

  Her jaw dropped. “You don’t know that you have a sexy tush?”

  He shook his head.

  “I can’t believe nobody’s ever told you that you have a nice butt.” She couldn’t believe Arielle had never told him, to be specific, but she decided not to bring his wife’s name into this discussion. “But if they haven’t, then I guess they weren’t paying attention. You have a fabulous set of cheeks, Morgan Tate. And that’s why I wanted to sneak a peek before you hopped on a jet plane and I wouldn’t get the chance anymore.”

  She might have struck him dumb, but his eyes were doing a lot of talking, and it was one hot conversation he was having with her. She couldn’t resist letting her attention stray south, and sure enough, he was ready for action. “I guess you like hearing that,” she said.

  “I love hearing that. And I’m dangerously close to taking advantage of this situation. Advantage of you. That’s why I need to go home today.”

  Looking into his eyes, she nodded. “Guess so,” she said softly. Then, because she felt sorry for the poor guy, she turned, went into the bathroom and shut the door. He needed someone who truly appreciated what a hunk he was, but that person couldn’t be her, obviously, so it was best if they parted ways.

  MINUTES LATER, his fabulous cheeks covered in jeans, Morgan stood in the kitchen cracking eggs into a bowl while a skillet warmed on the stove. Fabulous cheeks. A sexy tush. He was still semiaroused thinking of Mary Jane standing in her nightshirt and boxers, her outrageous toenails winking at him as she talked about the merits of his backside. If he really had a great butt, then obviously he’d never dated the kind of woman who would tell him so.

  He thought back to the two serious girlfriends he’d had before he’d met Arielle. They’d been a lot like Arielle, come to think of it. Elegant and brainy, with a cool sort of beauty, like marble statues. And they were distant.

  The thought made him blink. Distant. Like his parents.

  Standing with half a cracked eggshell in each hand, he stared out the kitchen window at the birds gathering around the feeder. It was low on seed. Before Mary Jane left he needed to ask her where she kept the birdseed.

  He also needed to get a move on with breakfast if she made good on her boast to be down in ten minutes. After whipping the eggs with a fork, he dumped them in a pan and pushed down the handle on the toaster.

  Ten minutes. He still couldn’t get over it. Those cool, elegant women he’d known, including his mothe
r, had never been able to get dressed and out the door in less than an hour. He hadn’t timed Mary Jane yesterday; his mind had been on other things. She’d likely been stalling, anyway, after the confrontation they’d had about… He paused. He still had no adequate way to label what had happened between them that first night. It was far more significant than sex, yet he couldn’t call it making love, either. The same thing went for this morning.

  In his experience, making love involved so much more than they’d shared. He’d never even kissed her. Yet he’d brought her to orgasm twice, and each time had filled him with wonder and joy. She was so responsive, so warm, so lacking in any pretense at all.

  “Is something burning?”

  He glanced at the smoking skillet of eggs. “Damn!”

  “Hey, no problem.” She crossed to the toaster and pulled out the two pieces of whole wheat toast, which were perfectly browned, thanks to the wonders of automation.

  He couldn’t say the same for the blackened eggs he scooped down the garbage disposal. “Listen, I’m sorry. Do you have time for me to start over?”

  “Not really. Shelby needs me there for the morning rush.” She opened the refrigerator and took out a jar of grape jelly. She grabbed a knife from the silverware drawer, opened the jar and spread the jelly on the toast.

  Considering that he’d burned the nutritious breakfast he’d meant to feed her, he didn’t think he could say a word. Besides, he was too busy taking in the picture she made, her wild curls tamed into a ponytail, her rounded body filling out the short-skirted white uniform she wore.

  “I know this is a little tight.” She patted her tummy where the waistband of the dress was straining at the button. “I have a maternity version on order, but I haven’t really needed it until just lately.”

  Now that she’d brought his attention to the waist of the dress he could see what she meant, but he’d been too engrossed in the swell of her breasts and the smoothness of her legs to notice. Her name tag was pinned over her heart, and he’d become mesmerized watching the plastic tag rise and fall with each breath she took.

  “You look great,” he said.

  She swallowed a mouthful of toast. “Thanks. Would you please pour me some juice?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even get the juice poured for you. If I were you, I’d fire me.” He turned toward the cupboard to get her a glass.

  “You had your mind on other things,” she said with a hint of a tease in her voice.

  “Birdseed,” he said, taking down a large glass.

  “Birdseed? Hey, not the giant size!” she protested when she saw the glass he’d chosen. “If I drink that much juice before I leave here, I’ll have to wait tables with my legs crossed.”

  “You need fluids,” he said, sounding every inch the stuffy doctor. It was a disguise. The earthy way she talked reminded him constantly that he was every inch a man. He’d never spent much time with women like Mary Jane, and he was discovering things he’d never known about himself. Mostly he was discovering that he was an earthy guy himself. Who would’ve guessed?

  “I’ll drink water at work,” she said. “And pace myself.”

  He took down a medium-size glass.

  “Much better. Now, what’s this about birdseed?”

  “Your feeder needs some. Where do you keep it?” He opened the refrigerator, took out the juice and poured the glass full.

  “You would fill my bird feeder for me?”

  He handed her the glass. “It beats watching those little suckers flying past the window carrying protest signs in their beaks.”

  She nearly choked on her juice.

  “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  “No!” She swallowed and glanced up. “Don’t apologize for making a cute little joke! We need those.”

  “We do?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes turned a smoky shade of blue. “Jokes are good when you have to say goodbye to someone you care about.”

  Goodbye. He’d told himself that he had to leave, but he hadn’t pictured this moment, when she would go off to work and they’d have to say goodbye. His stomach tensed.

  “It’s okay, you know.” She drained her glass and set it on the counter. “We’ll both be fine. We needed this time together, and now we can go our separate ways before things get sticky.”

  “I’m planning to come back when the baby’s due.”

  “Well, of course. You don’t think I’m going to put her in the overnight mail, do you?” She waited, a little smile on her face. “That was another cute little joke. You’re supposed to laugh.”

  “I don’t feel like laughing. This doesn’t feel right, me leaving and then coming back in four months to take the baby away.”

  Sadness filled her eyes, but she kept that brave smile on her face. “You’ll get used to it. We both will.”

  He had a hard time believing that, but he wasn’t in the most objective frame of mind. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. He tried to think of it from her standpoint. In another four months she could go back to being a carefree young woman, ready to party and eventually find the right guy so she could start her own family. At that point she wouldn’t want him and the baby hanging around. “This feeling between us is…temporary. Unreliable. We’re under stress, that’s all.”

  “You’d better believe it. Why else would a man like you find himself gaga over a girl like me?”

  He stared at her in astonishment. “What in hell does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “I’m a twenty-two-year-old waitress in Austin. You’re an up-and-coming pediatrician in New York City. I can see why this lust you’re feeling is embarrassing to you. I’m not in your league.”

  “That’s bullshit!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “If we’re talking about leagues, how about me not being in yours? You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met, and you’re kind, and warm, and funny, and fantastic to look at. Any guy who got you should fall down on his knees and thank God that you’d have him.”

  She gazed at him with shining eyes. “You don’t have to say that to make me feel better. But thanks.”

  “I’m not saying it to make you feel better!”

  “Sure you are. And I appreciate it.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel better, damn it.” He could tell from her expression she didn’t believe him, and that’s when he finally lost it and kissed her.

  Oh, God. She tasted like…the richest hot fudge sundae he’d ever had. He sort of went crazy—kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her some more. He was afraid he also used his tongue quite liberally as he continued to enjoy her full, sexy, incredibly sweet mouth. His hands found their way to her bottom and pulled her in tight, and boy, oh, boy, did she fit.

  She filled his arms in a way they’d never been filled before. He’d never held such energy, such excitement, such heat. Mary Jane’s body pressed against his caused a spontaneous combustion that made him dizzy with wanting to have her, all of her, right now.

  Then she put her hands against his chest and gently pushed him away.

  He stood there panting like a freight engine, his eyes glazed. If she hadn’t stopped him, no telling how long he would have kept that kiss going.

  She was breathing so fast her name tag was jumping up and down. “Okay…so you weren’t…trying to…make me…feel better,” she said, gasping. She tucked a strand of hair into her ponytail with shaking fingers. “All things considered—” she gulped in another breath “—we’d better not kiss goodbye. I have to, uh, fix my lipstick. Then maybe I should slip out the door.”

  He nodded, unable to think of anything to say besides Stay here. She couldn’t do that. He didn’t want her to. For her own good, he needed to get the hell out of her life. If she could find the strength to walk out that door, he’d find the strength to get on a plane.

  She walked into the entryway, where she’d put her purse on the small table. He followed her like a puppy. A small mirror hung over the table, and sh
e used it to apply the lipstick she dug out of her purse.

  Her hands trembled, but she managed to get the lipstick on. She parted her lips to get it right and gazed at herself with a half-lidded stare of concentration. He’d never thought of this beauty ritual as erotic, but then he’d never watched it performed by Mary Jane.

  He gazed at her lips like a starving man. The color hadn’t mattered to him before, but he focused on the rich tone because it was on Mary Jane’s mouth—a mouth he wanted more than he wanted to draw another breath.

  Leaning toward the mirror, she pressed her lips together.

  He groaned.

  Without turning, she met his gaze in the mirror. “You have lipstick on your face.”

  Lifting the back of his hand, he started to wipe it off.

  “Just lick it off,” she said. “It tastes like fudge.” Then she picked up her purse. “See ya around, cowboy.”

  As she unlocked the door and went outside, he clenched both hands to keep from running, grabbing her and hauling her inside. He was going insane over a woman who wore fudge-flavored lipstick and slept with stuffed animals when she got scared. This attraction made no sense for Morgan Tate, conservative pediatrician, but all his usual points of reference had deserted him.

  Fudge lipstick. No wonder her mouth had tasted so good. Maybe it was only the lipstick that had him turning into a madman.

  But he knew it wasn’t the lipstick. And in another minute it would hit him that she was truly gone.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SILK DAISY in the bud vase on her dashboard wasn’t enough to cheer up Mary Jane as she drove to Austin Eats. She was very much afraid she was falling for Arielle’s husband. And that was bad. He’d said their feelings couldn’t be trusted when they were both so stressed, and she believed that—for him.

  After all, he’d just lost the most important person in his life and he was about to become a father. Mary Jane would bet that some professor of psychology at some big university had written a paper about the sort of emotions Morgan was feeling. Deeply buried instincts were driving him to find a new mate quickly, and Mary Jane was in the line of fire.