Partners In Parenthood

by Raina Lynn

  He seemed to consider that. “Would you have said yes the other way?”

  “No.” She gravitated toward the table, unable to stop herself from being closer to him.

  “Then I’ll save the romance for a day I don’t want to wring your neck.”

  That hurt. He had the right to be upset. Even so, she still would have liked to hear words of caring and affection, even if he’d had to invent something. “Would you propose if I weren’t pregnant?”

  She didn’t like putting him on the spot like that, but they couldn’t afford the luxury of illusions between them. The strain on his face deepened. Then his expression hardened into commitment to the ethics he lived by. “You are, and I’m not interested in playing what-if games.”

  “Mason, I love to dance. Did you know that? Would you take me dancing?”

  Helpless, male confusion radiated from him at what must have appeared to be an idle subject hop. “I’ll take you to China if you agree to marry me.” His eyes narrowed with resolve. The intensity unnerved her. “Jill, today’s Friday. I’m not sure what the Washington marriage license laws are. I haven’t lived here all that long. But if we can’t get everything arranged within a week, we can fly to—”

  “You’re missing the point, Bradshaw.” She found a box of tissues and blew her nose. Her eyes were still swollen from the crying binges the night before, which had come at irregular intervals for hours. The memory of having a gun to her head for half a day would probably always remain vivid in her mind, but she’d come through it unharmed and she believed that she’d handle whatever healing process she had yet to go through.

  His face tightened with exasperation. “All right, we’ll dance every weekend if that’s what you want.”

  “You’re still missing the point. How about mountain bikes? Would you ride in the hills with me?”

  Mason rubbed his hands violently over his face. When he spoke, though, it reflected a quiet, overwhelmed frustration that sliced open her already bleeding heart. “I’m talking about the future of my child—our child—and you want to talk about hobbies.”

  Compassion flooded the wounds. “Not hobbies, Bradshaw. Interests. Companionship. The things that make a marriage last a lifetime. I’ve been through one bad marriage. So have you. I can’t go through another one.”

  “And, of course, that explains why you deliberately kept this from me.”

  With a groan, Jill sank down onto the couch. “Actually, it does. What makes you think I’d marry a man whose interest in me doesn’t extend beyond the occupant of my body?”

  “You’re distorting things.”

  “Really? Right after I found out I was pregnant, I asked you out to dinner and a movie, remember? I needed to see if you had any genuine interest in me at all. You said, no. That’s an answer that’s hard to distort.”

  “You’re not being fair, Jill. I didn’t know about the baby. I also needed to give us both some breathing room until I washed Karen out of my system.” His eyes swam with remorse and frustration. “The timing was wrong.”

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Like what?” Frustration had definitely gained the upper hand, if the way he dragged his hands through his hair indicated anything. He must really be climbing the walls.

  “Bradshaw, I don’t know you well enough to answer for certain. Something about me bothers you. Always has.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I told you last night, I think you’re beautiful.”

  She frowned. “So it really does have something to do with my appearance?”

  He froze, and Jill realized she’d hit the nail on the head. But how could he find her unattractive on one hand and beautiful on the other? It didn’t make sense. Or did it? “Bradshaw, some men find the sight of a pregnant tummy a turn on. Do you?”

  He blinked, seeming to think about that a minute. Then he waved her away. “Let’s get back to the subject.”

  “I didn’t think we’d ever left it.”

  “We’re getting married.”

  “Right,” she scoffed. “You’ll marry me out of decency and obligation because that’s the kind of man you are, not because you want me to share your life. I told you about Donald. Another one-sided marriage is not on my agenda.”

  “That doesn’t justify you not telling me about the baby.” Agitation simmered behind his hazel eyes as he weighed her words, and she sensed the moment he finally understood. Sinking beside her on the worn couch, he braced his elbows on his knees, his dark head sagging between his shoulders. “Did you plan to ever tell me?”

  Jill nodded. “Yes, as soon as she was born and I wasn’t so emotional all the time. I could have picked the time and place, and wouldn’t be so susceptible to you talking me into doing something I sincerely believe will hurt us worse in the long run.”

  Mason’s face was an easy one to read, and she fought back a sad laugh as he mentally regrouped. “We’re getting married.”

  “Why?”

  His eyes widened momentarily in shock. Then he got to his feet. “You’re carrying my child. That’s reason enough.”

  “Maybe thirty years ago, but not anymore.”

  He stared at her unblinking, obviously out of his depth, the conversation clearly not having gone the direction he expected.

  Leaning back, Jill closed her eyes. She didn’t really want to watch his expression when she made her position unmistakably clear. “I will not marry you. Not next week, not ever.”

  Silence slammed down like a heavy curtain that swallowed all sound. It didn’t take much effort to sense his hurt.

  Then, typical of Mason, he launched his attack. “Mountain biking won’t be a problem. I run a couple of miles every morning.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” She snapped open her eyes and glared at him.

  His expression stayed bland, determined. No argument would penetrate. “Bikes aren’t that much different.” He cocked his head. “What kind of dancing were you talking about? Ballroom?”

  Jill remembered the classical music he favored and stared at him in challenge. “Line dancing, Bradshaw.”

  His entire body tensed in abject revulsion, his composure shattered. “That’s country-and-western, right?”

  She nodded silently, loving him with every heartbeat and hating the sacrifices he’d willingly make. Mason Bradshaw would do whatever it took because it was the decent thing to do, no matter how miserable marriage to a woman he didn’t love would make him.

  Swallowing hard, he asked, “Does it require...cowboy boots?”

  “You can wear sneakers if you want to,” she sighed, “but you’d probably feel a little out of place, especially at the club I go to.”

  Mason took a fortifying breath. “Okay, I can handle boots. How hard can the rest be?”

  Tenderness welled up in her. How would she convince him that just because they’d made one mistake, they didn’t need to make another? Covering his hand with her own sent warm shooting sparks up her arm. From the grim way he stared at her fingers, he didn’t share the sensation. Through the pain, she self-indulgently studied his beloved face. My dearest love, has anyone ever told you how sexy the gold streaks in your eyes are? Do you have any idea how badly I hate your ex-wife for what she did to you? “Bradshaw, you’re filet mignon and champagne. I’m barbecue and iced tea.”

  “So? We’ll meet in the middle. Learn to appreciate each other’s tastes.” He stood up to glower down at her. “So what’s it going to be? A church with a minister, or a justice of the peace at the courthouse?”

  Groaning, Jill got to her feet. “Bradshaw, you’re a real pitbull when you want to be.” Unable to help herself, she lovingly smoothed back his rumpled hair, secretly reveling in its wavy softness. Love for him overwhelmed her. “Meeting in the middle is something couples do before they shell out money for a license. Afterward is a recipe for disaster.”

  He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. Jill settled back into the cushions and watched him
slowly get to his feet and pace the confines of the small room.

  “Jill, what’s wrong with wanting a traditional family?” His expression became tortured.

  Inwardly, she wept for both of them. “Nothing,” she whispered. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. But people don’t create a baby first, then get married, then get to know each other. Our problems are bad enough. Please don’t make them worse.”

  “There must be some way I can convince you.” Clawing determination gave his baritone a raspy quality that only emphasized their mutual pain.

  Time to end this before they wound up more shredded than they already were. “How do you feel about your ex-wife?”

  Defensive irritation flashed in his eyes. Then his brows furrowed. “What does Karen have to do with—?”

  “Plenty if you still love her.”

  Every muscle in his body knotted. “I don’t.”

  Jill gave him a hard stare. “Can you look me in the eyes and say one day you could love again—that it could be me?”

  He turned away from her. “You can’t have this baby alone.”

  You’ll give me mountain bikes and line dancing, but your mangled heart isn’t on the negotiating table. “Women do it all the time. Sure, it’s not real pleasant, but so what? It’s been a long time since anyone lived in the Garden of Eden.”

  Mason paced some more, coming to a stop at the dinette table and scowling at her half of the breakfast that she hadn’t been able to choke down. Slowly, he turned to her. Never before had she seen such purpose on a man’s face. His eyes glowed with it.

  “Jill, do you have any of that line dance music? After you eat your muffin, you can give me my first lesson. Then tonight, we’re going out for a barbecue dinner.”

  “Oh, Mason,” she moaned. “I’m not up to this right now. Besides, I have to be at work in an hour—someplace you should be, too, by the way.”

  Compassion softened the determined set to his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t like rushing you, particularly after yesterday, but—” He gave her stomach a wary glance. “—I want this settled before the baby’s born. There’s not much time.”

  He’d bend, but only so far. The last three months had been lonely but peaceful, and she’d enjoyed her pregnancy. Now she would have to carry the burden of continually telling the man she loved “no” exactly as she’d feared. “You plan to be in my face every day, making my life the proverbial hell on earth, don’t you?”

  “If that’s what it takes,” he whispered.

  “Doesn’t it bother you that I love you and you don’t love me in return?”

  His skin flushed with embarrassed discomfort. That gave her all the answer she really needed, but she pushed for more anyway. “I’ve got to get it through your head that you’d be setting us up for an outrageous amount of misery.”

  “That’s my baby, and I intend to be a father to it.”

  “You can do that without marriage.” Even before she finished her sentence he began shaking his head. She doubted he even saw her at this point. Hunching her shoulders in resignation, she said, “Bradshaw, it’s going to be a long day.” With every cell in her body, she knew it was only the first of many.

  Jill pulled into her usual parking spot at Casey’s, about the only thing normal so far that morning. Her heart of hearts wanted nothing more than to be with Mason, but loving him in absentia these past three months had been far less painful than the constant “look but don’t touch” she’d endured at the paper.

  Then, after politely but firmly kicking him out of her apartment, she had to face going back into the same building, the same office, where she’d been robbed and taken hostage the day before. The skin along her arms crawled as she pulled open the door. That made her mad. “No two-bit, brain-dead, lazy jerk who can’t work for his money like everybody else is going to ruin a perfectly nice job!”

  She stormed inside. The furniture displays hadn’t changed since Wednesday. The room groupings hadn’t become havens for ghosts and panic attacks. Muttering under her breath, she made her way to the break room for her daily half cup of decaf that the doctor allowed. Two of the salesmen and the warehouse manager were huddled over real coffee. Jill inhaled deeply. Her tastebuds whimpered.

  “Is everyone okay?” she asked.

  They looked up, expressions grim. “From the calls coming in on the back line, we may be the only ones showing up today.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, and did you hear about Mr. C.?”

  Jill shook her head.

  “He had a mild heart attack last night. Mrs. C. is staying at the hospital with him until he’s released. Supposed to be today.”

  “Then he’ll be all right?” Jill liked the new people she worked with. The Caseys were sort of like working for adopted grandparents. Rather than get upset that she hadn’t told them up front that she had a baby on the way, they assured her that her job would be waiting for her when she returned. Then they offered to sell her their top-of-the-line baby furniture collection at cost.

  Frank shrugged. “I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

  “Why?”

  “Not sure. This place feels different this morning. Like it’s never going to be the same again.”

  Jill had enough on her mind without borrowing trouble. “You’ve just got the creepy crawlies, Frank. For myself, I only woke up in a cold sweat once last night. Personally, I’m taking that as a good sign.” Then she eyed the plate of sweet rolls on the table and sat down. “Oooh, cinnamon raisin. I’ve been very good, and what my obstetrician doesn’t know won’t get me fussed at.”

  Her tastebuds accepted the peace offering with joyful abandon, and she relished each morsel.

  By noon, half the employees had either quit or were taking unpaid leaves of absence. Customers stayed away in droves. The only thing the store had in large numbers were curiosity seekers. Armed robberies weren’t supposed to happen in small towns like Stafford, Washington. Hadn’t someone discovered a law of physics to that effect?

  With Jill at his side still looking skeptical, Mason opened The North Forty Club’s door to the driving beat of something that sounded like a cross between rock and country. Even on the best of days, neither did much for him. His gaze swept the western-garbed, Saturday night crowd. Red-and-white gingham tablecloths covered rough-hewn tables. Cocktail waitresses balanced huge trays of beer as they squeezed past standing patrons. Good Lord, they’d even marked off the dance floor with split rail fencing and real bales of hay!

  Jill fit right in with her blue, western-style dress, its flared skirt swirling around the tops of tan boots. Mason’s dove-gray suit and striped silk tie couldn’t have made him more conspicuous if someone had funded a study. The sideways looks flashed in his direction by the other denizens of this distasteful place only confirmed it. But the rapturous contentment in Jill’s eyes gave him the incentive he needed to keep from grimacing.

  Against a far wall, he noticed a group of seven or eight people crowded around a table meant for half that number. One man noticed him. With sinking realization, Mason recognized Bobby Creamer.

  Bobby’s eyes widened fractionally, and he bent to the other Stafford Review-Journal reporters and their assorted spouses. They all turned to get their own eyeful. Speculation spread openly on their faces. He assumed they knew about Jill’s pregnancy from the story Bobby did, as well as from TV coverage of her rescue. But her being with Mason tonight fueled questions he’d just as soon not address until he had the situation more under control. Jill smiled and waved at them.

  Mason squared his shoulders. This wasn’t how he’d have preferred to make the announcement.

  “Get used to it, Bradshaw.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned and gave him an acid smile. “If you marry me, that means we’ll be seen together a lot.”

  That made no sense to him at all. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Come on, Bradshaw. You can’t tell me you’re not squirmin
g in your immaculately tailored suit at being here with little ol’ plebeian me.”

  He didn’t appreciate the deliberate goad. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want, Jill.”

  “Then let’s go say hello.”

  Before he had the chance to protest, she headed toward the group. With a deep sigh, Mason tagged along behind.

  “Hi, guys,” she chirped.

  Everyone smiled, casting glances at Mason then Jill. No one made a pretext of trying to hide their curiosity.

  “How are you feeling?” Helen asked her. “I don’t know that I would have handled that robbery with the poise you did.”

  Jill shrugged. Mason wondered if anyone other than himself had noticed how strained the gesture looked. “I’m fine. Had a few nightmares the past couple of nights, but I understand that’s normal. I’m dealing with them one mare at a time. The real test came Thursday when I had to walk back into that place. Supposedly, that’s the worst part, and I passed with flying colors.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had nightmares,” Mason interjected.

  “Sorry,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I didn’t think to tell you.” Then she turned back to the group. “Bradshaw was there for the big rescue. He’s been my Lord High Protector ever since.”

  The way she handled his presence surprised him. She could have exposed their personal problems to his employees and embarrassed the hell out of him. Why had she downplayed his involvement in her life?

  “That’s good...that you have someone,” Bobby ventured. Questions gleamed in his eyes, but basic manners kept them unasked.

  “I didn’t know you had a baby on the way,” his wife said. Mason could have sworn that the other seven people’s ears grew as they waited for her reply.

  “Yep.” Jill grinned. “Things are going great. I hated to leave the paper, but I make enough at Casey’s to pay for child care.”

  This whole conversation made him squirm. His and Jill’s baby and their private lives were none of anyone else’s business. He sat on the urge to grab Jill by the arm and steer her to the one free table, which just happened to be on the far side of the room.