Although the outfit was obviously designed for someone who’d recently had a baby, Mary Jane hadn’t seen any reason any woman wouldn’t adore it. She certainly did. But even on sale, the washable silk had been out of her price range. Hope Logan, a friend who ran the shop, had called her two days later and told her she’d cut the price of all the sale merchandise another twenty percent.
Mary Jane had suspected Hope had lowered the price so she could afford the pajamas, and although they still hadn’t been cheap, Mary Jane had splurged. Lately she’d wondered if buying the outfit had announced to the universe that she was interested in having a kid. Not two months later Arielle had called to suggest the surrogate mother project.
At the time Mary Jane had laughed and said she already had the postpartum PJs taken care of. Recently she’d discovered they worked great for this stage of the pregnancy, too, and they seemed to go perfectly with a night of watching Titanic and bawling her eyes out.
Titanic was the grand finale in the Tragedies on the Tube Film Festival she’d been conducting since she and Morgan had decided not to see each other for a while. Her theory was that if Morgan took Option A and decided she was not for him, she’d be totally cried out and therefore wouldn’t embarrass herself when he broke the news. If, on the other hand, he went for Option B and thought they might have a future together, then she’d be more than ready for some joyous news after several nights of angst.
Judging from his tone when he’d called, he was choosing Option A. When a telltale lump formed in her throat, she wondered if she was totally cried out, after all.
Turning off the movie, she glanced at her outfit and wondered if she should change into something else. No, by God, she wouldn’t change. She wasn’t in the mood to make this easy for him by greeting him in sexless fleece or flannel. Besides, it was too warm a night for that. Let Morgan deal with her in nearly transparent silk.
Then she took inventory of the living room. Crumpled tissues lay on the coffee table next to an empty pint of caramel fudge ice cream and a nearly empty bag of chocolate chip cookies. Pig-out city revealed.
Grabbing everything, she headed toward the kitchen to toss it. She threw the tissues in the garbage and started to drop the ice cream carton in after them when she noticed there was a good tablespoon, at least, of melted ice cream in the bottom. If she dropped a cookie in there and mashed it up with a spoon, she’d have something luscious to put in her mouth to ward off the depressing emotions she felt coming on.
She’d barely accomplished that when the doorbell rang. Still chewing her treat, she walked toward the front door. She couldn’t help but remember the first night he’d arrived on her doorstep. A doorbell ringing late at night would probably freak her out for quite a while. At least this time she had a pretty good idea of what he intended to say and was as prepared as possible. Answering the door with a mouthful of chocolate and caramel helped some.
She looked through her peephole to make sure Morgan was the person standing on her front porch, and then she opened the door.
He wore his cowboy clothes with a lot more confidence than he had the day he’d bought them, she noticed. He also wore his hat, even though it was nighttime and he didn’t need it to shade his eyes. Wearing the hat after dark meant he’d truly crossed the line to cowboy land, she decided. She wondered if he planned to dress that way in New York. If he walked around Manhattan looking like this he’d have women following him down Fifth Avenue.
She had herself to blame for that. He’d arrived in Austin clueless about his babe-magnet factor, a guy who didn’t even realize he had a sexy butt. She hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone, and now he probably knew how yummy he looked in those jeans. Damn it.
His eyes got kind of wide when he looked at her outfit, though. Well, good. Let him take that mental picture up north. Then immediately she felt guilty for her lousy attitude. He would be going to that sterile apartment with the black, white and gray color scheme that Arielle had thought was so sophisticated. It probably was sophisticated, but it wouldn’t lift Morgan’s mood any. No doubt he was convinced he was doing the right thing. The poor guy had enough to handle without adding sexual frustration.
She finished chewing her treat and swallowed. “Come in,” she said, stepping back. “I was just on my way upstairs to get a robe. Do you want something to eat or drink? Why don’t you go on back to the kitchen and help yourself? There are some carrot sticks in the fridge.” They were carrot sticks she’d ignored during her film festival, but maybe he’d think that was what she’d been chewing on when she answered the door. She started toward the stairs.
“Wait.”
She glanced over her shoulder and discovered he hadn’t come inside yet. Maybe he didn’t intend to. If he delivered his kiss-off speech on her front porch he could make a quick getaway.
The thought of him reciting his goodbye speech and then leaving immediately made her chest hurt, but he might have the right idea. Goodbye speeches could get messy, especially when it came to making that exit. Sometimes just navigating through a doorway was damn near impossible. This way he could turn and leave, and she could close the door quietly, or slam it, whichever she felt like after hearing his reasons, and then it would be over.
Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and went to the door. Cool air-conditioned air was sifting out the door while warm night air sifted in, but thinking about the electric bill wasn’t very noble at a time like this. Another spoonful of crushed cookies and melted ice cream would sure go good right now.
“I’ve, uh, come up with a plan,” he said. His gaze grew hungrier by the minute as it kept straying to her breasts.
She started to feel sorry for him again. Then she remembered she had offered to go cover up. “Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “Are you still interested in house-sitting?”
She weighed the options in her mind. Living in his house and knowing he’d put himself out of her reach would be frustrating. It would also hurt her pride. But if she let those things bother her, she’d never know what it was like to read a book in that window seat or lounge in the backyard under the willow tree.
“You’re not interested.” He sounded very disappointed.
She thought about it some more. The house would be a connection to him. You never knew what was around the bend. People could change their minds. “Yes, yes, I am interested. At least for now.”
“Good.” He nodded. “That’s very good.” He was obviously trying hard to ignore her sexy outfit and keep his attention focused on her face. He was failing. With each guilty glance at her silk-covered body, his eyes grew darker, his breathing more ragged.
She tried hard not to pity him, but he looked so miserable she couldn’t help it. Actually, she pitied them both. He was trying to be grown-up and sensible about all this, and it wasn’t his fault that he was breaking her heart in the process. “You can leave a key with Garrett,” she said softly. “He’ll help me move my things over.”
“What?” He glanced up, his gaze hot. He’d been caught staring directly at her chest, and he seemed to have lost track of the conversation.
She could probably seduce him, but she decided that would be beneath her. “You’re flying to New York right after the closing, aren’t you? You’re not staying until the end of the month, like you planned.”
The heat faded from his eyes and he looked totally unhappy. “Yeah, I’m leaving. I think it’s the best thing for me to do. Better for both of us.”
Although she’d expected this, it was a blow. She managed a little smile. “Then I guess you discovered during our separation that I’m resistible.”
His gaze swept over her, and a muscle tightened in his jaw. “Don’t I wish.”
“I must be. If I do say so myself, this outfit is outrageous. And you’re resisting.”
“For your own good!”
“Oh, please! People say stuff like that to hide the real reason for things. At least be honest with me.”
“And who are you to decide what I need? Who made you my keeper?”
“You need someone to be! You’re pregnant and you’re hormonal. You can’t trust your emotions to guide you, so someone else has to—”
“That is the most patronizing piece of bull I’ve ever heard in my life.” She stepped across the threshold and pointed her finger at him. “Now let me tell you how I see it. Maybe you think you’re watching out for my welfare, but that’s not the main issue. In the past few days you suddenly realized that a waitress who is determined to stay in Austin doesn’t fit in with your life plan. But you can’t say that, because it would hurt my feelings, so you’re making this all about me.”
His jaw muscles worked as he stared at her in frustration. “That is so wrong.”
“I don’t think so.” She lifted her chin. “Treat me like an adult for once. Have the courtesy to tell me that your practice makes too much money to consider moving here, so we could never have a future together. Be honest and admit that you think I’m basically too young for you, that chemistry isn’t enough to build a relationship on and you’re not willing to have an affair.” She took a breath and lowered her voice. “I do appreciate that you’re not willing to have an affair. I think.”
Fury raged in his eyes. “You want me to treat you like an adult?” He took one threatening step forward.
She refused to be intimidated. Whatever he dished out, she could take. “Give it to me straight, Morgan.”
Jaw clenched, he stared at her. “All right.” His voice was low and tense. “Then get inside. What I have to say isn’t something I care to broadcast to the neighbors.”
Startled, she backed up a few steps before realizing she’d just obeyed an order.
Before she could consider the wisdom of that, he stepped into the entry and closed the door. Then he clicked the lock into place. The metallic click echoed in the sudden silence.
“Morgan?”
When he turned to her, his gaze was intent, all confusion gone. “You’re right,” he said. “I haven’t treated you like an adult. I’ve been protecting you from what I’ve been feeling. At first that was because I didn’t trust those feelings. But I’ve had a lot of time to think recently, and I believe that what I want and need from you is real, and not just a result of losing Arielle.”
Her heart began to pound. She forced herself to try to stay rational, in spite of a look in his eyes that heated her blood. “Or maybe it has to do with me carrying your baby.”
“Icing on the cake. But even not pregnant with my kid, I’d want you, be crazy to hold you, make love to you.”
She could barely breathe. “Oh,” she said softly.
He held up his left hand. “I took the ring off, Mary Jane.”
“Oh,” she whispered again, her heart racing.
“But I was going to leave town, give you space. Let you have time to get unpregnant and then…then I was going to see how you felt about me.”
“And…” She swallowed. “And what are you going to do…now?”
“Now?” He tossed his hat to the couch. Then he closed the distance between them and scooped her up in his arms. “Now I’m going to take you upstairs and make love to you until you can’t see straight.”
She thought she might faint from happiness. “Cool.” No one had ever picked her up like this, literally sweeping her off her feet. She could understand why it made women go bonkers. Strong arms, solid chest, sweet scent of man all around her.
But as he started toward the stairs she realized it was a long climb. “There’s always the couch.”
“Nope, we’re going to do this right.” He was breathing heavily, but he was still climbing. “Finally.”
Cradled in his arms, she could feel the rapid thump of his heart. “But are you sure you should be carrying me? What if your back goes out or something?” Now that the prize was within reach, she didn’t want any heroics on his part to ruin it.
“Look, I may be past thirty,” he said, puffing away, “and I know that seems ancient to you, but I think I can manage to get your saucy little butt into bed without dropping you, so— Oh, God. I didn’t think about the baby.” He lowered her to her feet one step above him. “Oh, geez. If I’d dropped you, then something could have—”
“It didn’t.” She cupped his face in both hands. “And I felt like I was smack-dab in the middle of Gone With the Wind.” Then she treated herself to a kiss, meeting warm lips and an even warmer tongue. Her knees began to buckle. The guy definitely knew what to do with his mouth.
Before she could sag too far down on the steps, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Being carried was nice, but this was better, with all their significant body parts in direct contact. Feeling more liquid by the second, she snuggled in and kept kissing.
A groan rumbled in his chest as he slid both hands up her back under the loose top, then down over her silk-covered bottom to tuck her in even closer. She felt the imprint of his belt buckle against her tummy. But she was more interested in the imprint of what was below the belt buckle.
He lifted his mouth a fraction and struggled for breath. “You taste like…chocolate and…caramel. Again.”
“Essential snacks,” she murmured.
He peppered her face with tiny kisses. “You have…to…watch that.”
She arched against him, her breathing ragged as she reveled in the shower of kisses. “I’d rather kiss than eat. Hint, hint.”
“Sounds like a plan.” With a moan he delved deep into her mouth.
Judging from the bulge in his jeans and the moisture gathering between her thighs, they’d never make it to the bedroom. She began popping open the snaps on his shirt so she could run her hands over his chest.
There was nothing boyish about Morgan’s body, and that thrilled her. His broad chest sprinkled with hair was every inch a man’s, and all the more exciting as a result. Even the scent of him seemed more mature, more erotic than the inexperienced young guys she’d dated. He was a seasoned lover, and she’d discovered a taste for good seasoning.
He lifted his head. “We should go into your—”
“Stairs are nice.” She finished with his shirt and started on his belt buckle.
“But you need—”
“You.” She unzipped his jeans.
“A bed.”
“Later.” In an inspired move she slipped her hands inside the waistband of his briefs and slid to a sitting position, pulling his jeans and briefs down as she went. The maneuver gave her perfect placement.
“Mary Jane.”
She wrapped both hands around his solid penis. No wonder he’d felt so wonderful deep inside her that first night. She caressed him lovingly, and then she leaned over to kiss the straining tip.
He made a strangled sound low in his throat.
Glancing at him, she took him slowly into her mouth. He closed his eyes and shuddered. Sliding his trembling hands through her hair, he pressed the tips of his fingers against her scalp as he gasped in reaction.
She loved surprising him, shocking him, torturing him. He tasted salty and male and potent, so very potent. With every movement of her tongue he moaned softly, until the moment he tightened his grip and pulled away. Shaking like a leaf, he knelt on the stair in front of her and captured her mouth with his.
With a sigh she leaned back, bringing him with her. His erection lay thick and hard against her inner thigh, but he held his weight away from her as he fumbled with the tie at the waist of her silk pants. In his haste he pulled it into a tight knot. Muttering a soft curse against her mouth, he tried to undo it while balancing himself with one hand propped on the step.
She chuckled softly, breathlessly. “Let me,” she murmured, shoving his hand away.
His breath was hot against her neck as he pushed the front of her silk shirt up, exposing
her breasts. “Hurry.”
“I’m trying.” Her fingers weren’t working much better than his. “We put this off way too long.”
“You’re telling me.” He leaned down and kissed the tip of each breast. “I want you so much I’m dizzy. Look at you. Look at those beautiful, rosy nipples of yours.” He began sucking gently.
“Oh, Morgan…” She had to give up her work on the knot as the tug of his mouth at her breast made her weak with desire.
He continued the sweet suction until she was so stoked with sexual energy she figured she would glow in the dark. At last he released her nipple but continued to flick his tongue over the tip, sending little shock waves through her system. He lifted his gaze to her face. “Good?” he whispered.
She struggled to speak. “The…best. I’ve never…I’ve never been affected…like this. I don’t know…why.”
His gaze warmed even more. “That’s easy. You’re going to have a baby.” He cupped her breast, squeezing gently. “So perfect. So ready to give.”
A deep sorrow cascaded through her. “But I’m not going to—”
“Shh.” Easing upward, he brushed his lips against hers. “I think you are.”
“But—”
He cut off her protest by settling his mouth over hers. And as his tongue thrust intimately inside, he loosened the knot at her waist as if he’d suddenly become Houdini. The silk gave way easily, slipping down and over her hips with just the slightest help from her. One little wiggle, and the garment was gone.
And Morgan was back, bracing his arms on either side of her, easing the tip of his penis into her heat. He slowly ended the kiss and looked into her eyes. “I told myself this might never happen again.”
Her gaze holding his, she gripped his buttocks and guided him forward. “So did I.”
“You feel so right.” His breath caught as he settled deep within her. “So very right.”
“We fit.” Her body hummed with pleasure as he began to move.
He stroked her with a lazy rhythm, but there was nothing casual about the look in his eyes. “We do,” he said, sounding awed. “This is…”
Her Best Friend's Baby Page 20