Another Man's Baby

by Kay Stockham

Garret pulled her close, kissed her gently, his mouth lingering on hers. “Because you’re you,” he murmured against her lips. “Because you look me in the eyes and you’re honest with me about what you feel. Honesty is…hot.”

  She laughed at him. At them. “I’m scared of screwing up.”

  “Me, too.”

  There it was again, that fairy-tale feeling. Why was she doing this to herself?

  “You are the last thing I expected to enter my life at this point, but I’m glad you did,” he said.

  She nuzzled her nose against him. “This is crazy messed up. You know that, don’t you? I’m huge. My back hurts, my ankles are puffy and I should not be thinking about you this way.”

  “But you are?” Garret’s eyes warmed with blatant interest. In the space of a heartbeat an arrested expression crossed his face, one of hunger and excitement and curiosity that made her body tighten in response. “Come here.” He snagged her with a hand behind her nape and kissed her. Not the sweet, chaste kisses of before, but hungry, urgent, drowning get-to-know-what-you-like-best strokes that turned her muscles to mush.

  Darcy moaned, unprepared for the onslaught of desire Garret unleashed, and found herself gently pulled upward onto her knees and shifted about, until she was draped across his lap and well able to feel the steely strength of his arousal against her hip. Oh, yeah, he wasn’t kidding her. That couldn’t be faked.

  Garret raised his head briefly as though to check to make sure she was okay, but when she didn’t utter a complaint he kissed her again, using his teeth to nip, his tongue to soothe, delving inside to explore. He didn’t rush her and she knew if she were to protest, Garret would immediately stop. But she didn’t want him to. No, she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, shivering when his broad palm slipped from her thigh to her breast and squeezed.

  “Beautiful. Do you have any idea how many times I thought about doing this?”

  Yes. Because she’d dreamed of him doing it more than once. This morning she’d donned a baby-doll style dress, scoop-necked at the top and loose around her belly, the bottom of which reached midthigh, and lace-trimmed leggings beneath, and now she relished her choice when the material posed little barrier to Garret as he smoothed his hand back down her body to her knee, up again. When he reached her shoulder he dragged his knuckles along her collarbone, into her cleavage and then slipped beneath the material and her bra to cup her again, this time flesh to flesh.

  “Oh.” Her breasts had never been all that sensitive, but with her pregnancy they were. And the feel of him touching her—“Garret, please.”

  “You’re killing me, sweetheart.” He kissed her mouth, her cheek, her neck, following the course of his hand, all the while giving her gentle little scrapes of his thumb. Back and forth, so slow. The arm supporting her back tightened, lifting her toward him and she held her breath, waiting for the moment his lips touched her, laved and sucked with all the pent-up hunger she felt radiating from him. The shock of it shot straight to her core, and she stiffened before curling into him, desperate for more.

  Garret groaned. “Beautiful.” Still holding her so that he could play with her breasts, he slid his hand to her knee and raised it, settling her foot on the couch just so, before he went back to what he was doing. Touching, tasting, making her gasp and moan, his decadent mouth on her throat, her chest, his free hand meandering up and down her body and leaving a blazing trail behind. What was he doing to her?

  Garret’s heart thudded beneath her ear, his breathing unsteady, proof that he was enjoying himself and wasn’t simply going through the motions or doing this for her. He wanted to, because he wanted her. Amazing. Dangerous to her heart, but amazing all the same.

  A rough sound escaped him, a growl, a chest-deep rumble, and he shifted so that she laid more fully across his lap, more open to his touch. His hand slipped lower, inward on her thighs, between.

  “Garret.”

  He cupped her, the thin barrier of her leggings not protecting her from the heat of his thumb, each movement sending a sizzle of excitement through her until she could scarcely keep from crying out. Over and over he touched her, kissed, rubbed, his mouth on hers long enough to capture her moans before moving on, lower, focusing on her breasts since they brought her pleasure—a devastating suck and stroke that made her writhe. If someone had said she could feel like this now…

  Then Garret’s hand found exactly the right spot. “There.” He kissed her, hard and fast and sexy rough, his breath hitting her cheek when he broke contact to laugh softly. “Ah, yeah, sweetheart, right there. I love the look on your face.”

  He repeated the motion, varying the pressure and angle of his touch until she clutched his shoulders, kissing him, desperate, for more. Harder, faster, more. Whimpering, moaning, struggling to breathe as Garret built the tension inside her body to an unbearable degree. Finally, oh, finally, he cupped his hand around her and pressed, palming her and taking her mouth with his as he ground his hand against her until she shattered, her soft scream of pleasure captured by his mouth.

  Darcy laid sprawled on his lap afterward, her nose buried in Garret’s neck. Doubts, fears, total embarrassment bombarded her, but she shoved all the emotions aside to enjoy the moment, knowing she felt more for Garret than she ever had for Stephen. How scary was that? How sad? She’d known Garret a matter of weeks and yet he meant more to her than her baby’s father? What did that say about her?

  But it was true. She’d spent almost every evening talking with Garret, getting to know him, and what they’d just shared? It was nothing short of…magical.

  Which made it all the more terrifying.

  Garret shifted his hand between her thighs and aftershocks rolled through her. He made himself more comfortable on the couch, holding her on his lap, silent.

  What was he thinking? Did he regret what they’d just done? Shoving those thoughts aside, she brushed her lips over his jaw, his throat, moving lower, shifting to have better access to his clothing.

  “Darcy, no.”

  “But—”

  “Gram will be home soon.” He held her hands, bussed his lips against her forehead. “You were beautiful. This was wonderful. But I should go.”

  Tears pricked her eyelids and she blinked rapidly. “I know.” But she didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want reality to intrude even though it was crashing back in drowning waves. She was too impulsive. She shouldn’t have let things go so far, shouldn’t have been so eager, but—

  Garret hugged her close and raised her head with a hand under her chin, his mouth finding hers with unerring accuracy. And just like that her heart kicked up speed, the trembling started deep inside.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Darcy. I’d never deliberately hurt you. Whatever happens, will you please remember that?”

  And there it was. Reality. He wanted her to remember that—if he chose Jocelyn?

  When, not if. “I’ll try.”

  “YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET. Something happen back at the gym?”

  Nick’s voice startled Darcy from her thoughts. She hadn’t been able to concentrate all day. All she could think about was Garret and what had happened between them last night.

  Was she more like her mother than she thought? A few pretty words and she gave in? She glanced over her shoulder and saw Matt in the backseat playing a handheld game, oblivious to the adults thanks to the earphones tucked in his ears. Would she have a boy like Matt? A little girl? What kind of shape would she be in when she gave birth if she let herself fall for Garret only to be cast aside? Getting closer to Garret had seemed like a wonderful idea last night, but in the harsh light of day—Face it, you acted just like Mom.

  She settled herself against the seat and tried to stave off the upset and embarrassment. She’d never done that before, gotten so close to a guy so soon after meeting. Stephen had said he’d practically had to pry her thighs apart and that was after dating him nearly six months. She didn’t do easy, didn’t do one-night stands, didn’t feel
like she owed a guy anything just because he bought her dinner. So why did she want to do all those things and more with Garret?

  “Darcy?”

  “Do you ever wonder,” she asked softly, “if you’re making the right decisions?”

  Nick smiled. “Only every day. Are you talking about parenting or something else?”

  “Life in general. I want…I want whatever happens next to be right for both me and the baby. And I really need it to happen quickly given, well, this,” she said, indicating her belly. “Rosetta says I’ll go into labor soon because I’ve cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and washed everything that wasn’t attached to something.”

  Nick chuckled as he drove her home to the condo. “I remember Matt’s mom doing that.”

  She glanced at Matt again. The child was oblivious to their conversation but she lowered her voice to be sure. “What happened? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  Thirty seconds passed before he shrugged. “She had stars in her eyes at the thought of being a Tulane and moving to the top of the mountain. When she realized I wasn’t going to go crawling back to my parents and marrying me meant she was just going to get me, she left. But she left the best thing between us behind.” He cleared his throat, his jaw locking and unlocking at his thoughts. “It hasn’t been easy, but kids are resilient, Darcy. They’ll love you no matter how screwed up things get sometimes.”

  She let that pass without comment. She loved her mother because she was her mother, but a deep, caring love? If not for Nana’s love until her passing and a deep-rooted sense of right and wrong she wouldn’t know how to love her baby. Her mom hadn’t taught her that. But was her version of love dark and twisted? Was it the right way to love or was it only a matter of time before she screwed that up, too? “Do you think your parents regret not being close to you?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. “I can’t believe I asked that. How rude, Nick, I’m sorry. My mom and I are—We have a lot of problems, and I’m worried they’ll carry over and come between me and my baby. That the pattern will repeat. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive about you and your family.”

  “It’s okay. And the answer is yes. I do, too. But I can’t see them making any other decision at the time.” He grimaced. “I did the right thing by leaving, they did the right thing by setting down an example for my brothers and sister. Who’s right? Some people need distance to be themselves and I’m one of them. Maybe you are, too. Things are undeniably tense and awkward when I’m with my family, but short visits work well. Usually no one gets hurt that way.”

  She smiled sadly. Would short visits work with her mother? Only if she’d want to see you. Who wanted to live their life that way? Waiting for a phone call from her mother to say it was okay to come visit? A phone call that probably would only come when her mother was between men, canceled at the last minute if the guy came back or a new one entered? No, she wasn’t going to do that, put her child through the drama. She had to build relationships and connections on her own, for them both.

  With a man who wasn’t sure where he wanted to be?

  “No matter how hard you try, you can’t live for other people. You have to be your own person first, a person you can live with so that whoever you’re involved with can’t make or break your happiness.”

  Wise advice. Until the baby came and she recovered, she was stuck in town with Garret. That was a given. But what about afterward? What did a person do when she was sure what the right decision was but wasn’t ready to make it?

  “GARRET, we need to talk.” Harry bulldozed his way into the office and shut the door.

  Garret set the supply report aside and frowned at his boss. “I didn’t think you were coming in today. Something wrong?”

  “Yes, something is wrong. You listen to me and listen good. You know I’m not a patient man, and I’ve had enough of this Darcy person and the talk that’s going around. Whatever it is that has you going over there nearly every night to see that woman won’t last.”

  “Darcy is on her own and doesn’t know anyone in town. You can’t sympathize with that?”

  “Don’t give me that bull. That may have been true when she first arrived, but she knows plenty of people now. I know about her working for Nick, and isn’t that supposedly why she’s staying with Rosetta? As her companion?” he demanded pointedly. “She doesn’t need you babysitting her. Joss is—”

  “Joss and I have discussed this, Harry, and she’s okay with it.” He couldn’t say that they were okay because they weren’t, but the last thing he’d do was discuss his suspicions with Harry. He wasn’t sure whom to confront first. Joss, Tobe. Or himself. Had too many hours working and his friendship with Darcy pushed Joss into Toby’s arms?

  People cheat because they want to, no one makes them.

  And before he could throw stones he had to take a hard look at what he’d done with Darcy last night. That factored in, too. Complicated things more.

  “I don’t want you seeing that woman.”

  “I’ll see whomever I damn well please.”

  “Then you’re a fool. She’s taking advantage of you and you’re blind to it. Just like you’ve always been to Richardson hanging on to your family’s coattails.”

  He left the subject of Toby alone. “Darcy hasn’t asked for a thing from me. If anything I have to make her accept my help because she doesn’t like charity.”

  Harry growled. “I’ll prove to you what kind of person she is. All I have to do is offer her some money and you’ll see how fast she runs with it.”

  He stood but didn’t move from behind the desk, knowing it gave him the position of power in the room. Two could play Harry’s hard ball. “Stay away from her. Darcy isn’t like that, and if you upset her, you’ll answer for it.”

  “To who? You?”

  He smirked. “I won’t have to say a word. Think my grandmother will let you get by with tormenting a pregnant woman in her care?”

  “She needs to go.”

  “Go where? Darcy can’t travel.”

  “There are ways. I’ll hire someone to drive her out of here if I have to.”

  “Harry, I mean it. You keep your foul moods away from her. Upsetting Darcy could send her into labor.”

  “If it means she’d leave sooner, that would be a good thing. Garret, fix this. You end it now or else.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Do you really think your job will survive, treating my daughter this way? Think your brother will get that promotion if this continues?”

  “Now you’re resorting to threats?”

  “Take it however you like,” the man drawled. “The gallery opening is in three weeks. The place will be crawling with reporters and people ready for a party, and I expect you to help give them one. Propose to Jocelyn beforehand and let the damn opening night of that nightmare be for something meaningful. After dragging her along for years, she deserves a special evening. In the meantime, stay away from that pregnant tramp or I’ll see to it you aren’t left standing.”

  Garret watched Harry leave, all the anger and frustration inside him reaching critical mass. He was sick of this. Sick of the drama, the godlike haul-ass-and-get-it-done-now-or-else behavior Harry had displayed for the past couple years. Sick of it all.

  He sat and stared out the window, not giving a flying leap about the supply lists or contracts on his desk, not even the one he’d worked so hard to get. He’d crashed and burned a long time ago, he just hadn’t wanted to face it.

  “Deep thoughts for such a beautiful day.” Gram regarded him from the doorway, concern in her eyes. “I take it Harry is on another rampage?”

  Normally he would’ve brushed her off with a smile, laugh and firm no comment, but he didn’t. He shoved himself upright, deciding Harry could review the contract if he wanted nurses working the hospital in the near future. “Want to go get some coffee?”

  A smile lit her features. “I’d love to.”

  Fifteen minutes later they w
ere in a coffee shop off main street, the place mostly empty because of the time of day.

  “Harry’s applying pressure, is he?” Gram murmured.

  “You could say that.”

  “Did something happen between you and Darcy?”

  His head jerked up. “Why do you ask?”

  Gram smiled in that knowing way she had. “Because she’s looking much the same way you do. I know the two of you are getting close. I can tell. And I’m worried about you. Both of you.”

  He stared into the murky depths of his drink. “We were just friends, but now—” How could he describe how he felt?

  “Now you’re more? Is that wise considering the relationship you already have in your life?”

  “No. I can’t say that it is. I’m…confused, Gram.”

  “Darcy is a wonderful girl. She’d make any man a good wife.”

  “But so is Joss,” he added.

  “Very true.”

  “You’re not helping me here, Gram.” He took a sip of the coffee he didn’t want. “Harry wants me to propose to Joss the night of the gallery opening. Make it a big to-do.” He couldn’t look at her.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I want…peace. I want things to settle down with my job and with Harry on a rampage all the time and me doing his job and mine, I can’t find it unless—”

  “Unless what?”

  He’d been about to say unless I’m with Darcy but would Gram understand? How could she when he didn’t? “Joss is a good woman. We’re good together and I love her. I do love her.”

  “I know.”

  “Three years is a long time to wait, but she has and she’s been patient. She’s been fantastic. She hasn’t pressured me, has stood by me working long hours and weekends. But lately things have been…strained, and I’m wondering if it’s time to fish or cut bait.”

  “Because you’re interested in Darcy now, too?”

  He didn’t answer right away. Wasn’t about to mention what he’d seen to Gram. If he did marry Joss, he didn’t want Gram suspicious of Joss every time she saw her talking to Toby. It was nothing. They were just talking—you are the one who’s crossed the line. “With Darcy I feel…different.” He made himself meet her gaze. “I want what you and Grandpa had, Gram. But how do I know which one is the one when both of them would make me happy?”