EXPECTANT BRIDE-TO-BE

by Nikki Benjamin

  And Abby Summers wasn't just anyone. She was one very special lady.

  After a quick shower, Jack dressed in tailored navy blue shorts and a green knit polo shirt that he'd been told almost matched his eyes, slipped his feet into leather deck shoes and grabbed his car keys. He would be a little early, but he'd rather that than keep Abby waiting.

  He hadn't been his most personable self on the sidewalk outside the real estate agency. Of course, he'd been in a mild state of shock from the moment Abby had rested her hand on her belly, revealing, apparently unintentionally, her pregnancy. And he had been afraid that she would try to shut him out again.

  He had spent the two months since his trip to San Francisco cursing himself for not being more forceful with her that stormy night. He hadn't wanted to make the same mistake again. But neither had he meant to bully her.

  Jack didn't think he had—at least not hurtfully so. But just in case his way needed smoothing, he stopped at a flower shop that was just about to close, and bought a bunch of pink-and-white carnations tucked in a paper cone with feathery greenery and sprigs of something the florist called baby's breath that seemed suitable for the occasion.

  He was relieved to see a car parked in the driveway when he finally reached Abby's mother's house. With an equal measure of dismay, he also noted that meddling old Mrs. Beckworth was standing on her front lawn, paying more attention to his arrival than to the little poodle snuffling around in the bushes.

  Jack would have preferred not to acknowledge the woman's presence, but as he climbed out of his car, she called out to him in her high-pitched, busybody-on-duty voice.

  "Well, it's you again, young Master Randall. Thought you would have more sense than to sniff around that house again, coming from such an important family and being a professional man yourself. I suppose that's not enough to keep you from thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy, though. If you get my drift…"

  Jack did, only too well, but be refused to give Constance Beckworth even the slightest bit of satisfaction by letting her know it.

  "Why, good evening to you, Mrs. Beckworth," he said instead. "Enjoying the nice weather we've been having?"

  The old woman looked at him through narrowed eyes, her lips pursed disapprovingly. Holding the paper cone of flowers he'd bought for Abby, he offered the woman his most charming smile. After another moment or two, she relented, twitching her own mouth into something vaguely resembling a smile, as well.

  "Very much, thank you," she replied, then snapped her fingers at the dog as she turned away.

  At Abby's front door, Jack paused, drew a steadying breath, rang the doorbell and waited … and waited. Sensing Mrs. Beckworth's avid gaze trained in his direction, he glanced at his watch, drew another breath, rang the bell again, then rapped sharply on the door for good measure.

  Abby had said she would be there, and he had believed her. And he was neither so early nor so late that he was encroaching on any other plans she might have made. But that didn't mean a whole hell of a lot. If she honestly didn't want to see him—

  The door opened slowly and Abby peered out at him questioningly, her eyes bleary and her hair hanging loose around her shoulders in a wild mass of untamed curls. She was wearing a short, silky, royal-blue robe, and she looked as if she'd just crawled out of bed.

  Jack's first thought was that she'd fallen ill since he'd seen her that afternoon. Instinctively, he reached out and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then her cheek, checking for fever.

  She blinked up at him, a startled look in her eyes, then smiled sheepishly.

  "No matter how bad I look, I'm not sick," she said, taking a step back. "I decided to take a short nap, and lost track of time…"

  "You don't look bad at all," Jack assured her. "But I can come back a little later, if you'd like."

  He didn't really want to go. She looked so lovely with her eyes heavy-lidded with the dregs of sleep and her luscious hair all but begging to be touched. She also seemed softer and much more amenable than she had that afternoon.

  Winning her over in her current state would be so much easier. He had always prided himself on being fair, though. And getting what he wanted wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if Abby later claimed that she'd been at a disadvantage.

  "No, stay." She opened the door wider and gestured for him to come inside. "It will only take me a few minutes to put some clothes on and comb my hair. Why don't you help yourself to a drink? There's iced tea and orange juice in the refrigerator, and hard stuff in one of the cabinets. You remember the way to the kitchen, don't you?"

  And to your bedroom, he wanted to add, but didn't.

  Her whole demeanor had changed the moment he'd stepped inside the house, signaling loud and clear her wariness of him.

  So much for having her at a disadvantage. Suddenly, he was afraid to say or do anything that would make her trust him even less.

  "I should put these in some water, too," he said, holding up the flowers.

  "Yes, please. There should be a couple of vases under the kitchen sink. The flowers are lovely, by the way. Thanks for bringing them."

  She smiled slightly, but didn't quite meet his gaze before she turned away.

  Jack found a suitable vase where Abby said he would, arranged the flowers in it as best he could and added water. Then he poured a glass of tea for himself. He hadn't thought to ask Abby if she wanted anything, but just in case, he filled a glass with tea for her, as well.

  Juggling the glasses and the vase, he returned to the living room and set everything on the coffee table. Too nervous to sit on the sofa while he waited for Abby, he walked over to the glass-and-brass étagère and looked at the few framed photographs displayed there.

  All were of Abby and her grandparents, most taken when she was a child. But there were also two graduation photos prominently situated, one from high school and the other from Stanford. Abby's mother had obviously been very proud of her daughter, and rightly so.

  But single motherhood when Abby had just started to establish herself in her chosen career wouldn't have been what Larissa Summers wanted for her. She would have wanted Abby to have a loving husband to look after her and the baby.

  And she was going to have that, Jack vowed silently.

  "I'm ready to talk now," Abby announced, her voice soft but firm, interrupting his thoughts.

  Turning, Jack saw that she stood near the sofa, and wondered how long she'd been there. She had dressed in a pale denim jumper over a white, short-sleeved T-shirt, and she'd pulled her glorious auburn hair into a ponytail fastened with a clip at the base of her neck.

  She hadn't bothered with makeup, but then, she didn't need any to look lovely. She held herself quite regally, too, her chin up and her shoulders straight. But she'd crossed her arms over her chest protectively, and as she had earlier, she refused to meet his gaze head-on.

  Jack wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, take her in his arms, and assure her that everything would be all right. But he held back, too uncertain of her response to risk getting off on the wrong foot.

  He had made enough mistakes with her already. He couldn't afford to alienate her any further. Not when his future happiness depended so completely on having her be a permanent part of his life.

  "Why don't we sit down?" He gestured toward the sofa.

  "I'd rather stand," she replied, her chin inching up another notch.

  Not good, Jack thought. Not good at all. She obviously meant their conversation to be short and to the point. And she wasn't about to lower her guard in any way while she was at it.

  "But there's a lot I need to say," he insisted, trying not to let his frustration show.

  "I think I can sum it up in a few words," she countered, finally looking him in the eyes. "You've seen that a problem has developed as a result of our having unprotected sex, and you've decided to do what you believe to be your duty and ask me to marry you. Am I right?"

  "There's more to it than that
, Abby. First, I don't consider your pregnancy to be a problem—"

  "Then what kind of problem were you referring to in that delightful little note you left for me in December?" she asked, her blue eyes flashing angrily.

  "Abby … please. I never should have said the things I did in that note. I never should have left you the way I did that morning—period," he answered, talking a step toward her.

  "You might want to think that now, but when you wrote the note and left the way you did that was what you honestly and truthfully wanted to do at the time. And there was nothing wrong with being forthright, Jack. In fact, I'm really glad you were. It's kept me from having any illusions at all about my importance to you."

  "Damn it, Abby, stop twisting everything around," Jack shot back, no longer able to rein in his frustration. "I made a big mistake in December, and I'm truly sorry for it. You've got to believe me."

  "Oh, I do," she acknowledged in a reasonable tone. "And if it will make you feel better, I not only accept your apology, I also absolve you of any wrongdoing toward me. Now go and have a wonderful life."

  "But I can't do that. Not without—"

  "Doing the honorable thing?" she cut in calmly. "Thanks, but no thanks, Jack. I don't need your charity."

  "I didn't come here to ask you to marry me because I wanted to do a good deed," he all but shouted, desperate for a way to make her listen to him, really listen without putting words in his mouth that were all wrong. "I came here because I—"

  "Oh, please, give me a break. In December you couldn't get out of here fast enough. Obviously, marriage wasn't on your mind then. And if you would just be honest with yourself, you'd admit that it's only on your mind now because I'm pregnant."

  "There is no talking to you, is there?" Jack muttered, so confounded by his inability to get through to her that he simply gave up.

  "I told you in March that the time for talking had long passed. That is even truer now."

  "Only because you refuse to listen to me."

  Jack shoved a hand through his hair, barely resisting the urge to take her by the shoulders and give her a good shake. Or maybe kiss her so senseless she'd finally shut up long enough to hear what he was trying to say.

  "I walked out on you in December because I was afraid of what getting involved with you would cost me emotionally. I thought if I lived a solitary life, I'd never again suffer the way I did when Cindy died. I'm still afraid. I won't deny it. But I'm willing to take the risk. I want to marry you, Abby, not out of a sense of duty, but because I truly care about you and about our child."

  "I wish I could believe you, Jack, but your reputation precedes you," Abby said, her voice sounding sad. "You're one of the good guys, and good guys always do the right thing, no matter what it costs them. It's not in your nature to get a girl pregnant then leave her to fend for herself. And I appreciate that—really, I do.

  "But you don't need to have your life screwed up because of a mishap during one night of recreational sex. And you certainly don't have to pretend to care about me any more than you care about anyone else. I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself and my baby, and that's exactly what I plan to do." She hesitated a moment, then gestured toward the front door. "Now I think it would be best if you left."

  Jack wanted to argue with her further, but considering her present frame of mind, he had to finally admit that nothing more he could say would do him any good. In fact, words alone weren't going to get him anywhere with her. The only way to prove to her that he cared about her was to show her. And that would take time—time he could only hope she would give him.

  Walking away now wouldn't be easy, but it just might buy another opportunity to present his case. Abby's defenses had been up since she'd joined him in the living room, and they would stay up as long as he was there. But a few days from now, after she'd thought about all he'd said—as she surely would—maybe her attitude toward him would be less caustic.

  "All right, if that's what you want," he agreed. "But only if you promise to see me again before you leave town. I'd like to try to work out some way that I can help provide for our child. I'm assuming you're not going to want me to be a part of his or her life, so that seems like the least I can do. I wouldn't want my child to grow up thinking that I'm some kind of deadbeat, especially when we both know that isn't true."

  "I suppose that would be all right," Abby replied, somewhat grudgingly. "But I'm only going to be here three weeks. Then I'm going back to San Francisco. And I'm not going to change my mind about marrying you."

  "I don't expect you to." He tucked his hands in the pockets of his shorts, paused a long moment, then spoke aloud the one thought he hadn't wanted to consider in the hope that she would somehow disprove it. "Not if you don't love me the way you said you did that night."

  Abby's cheeks took on a bright red hue as her gaze slid away from his.

  "We all say things we don't really mean at one time or another," she murmured, twisting her fingers together so tightly her knuckles turned white.

  "My point exactly," Jack said, his spirits soaring. As he recalled, Abby had never been able to lie convincingly, and that still seemed to be the case. "I'll call you in a few days. Maybe then we can discuss our options in a calmer, more thoughtful manner."

  "Yes, of course … in a few days," Abby acknowledged, refusing to meet his gaze again.

  "Enjoy the flowers." Giving Abby a wide berth, Jack headed for the door to let himself out, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  "I will."

  Finally out of Abby's sight, Jack allowed his smile to turn into a grin as he crossed to his car. She might have won this round, but he wasn't down and out yet.

  With a blush and a shift of her eyes, she had given him the most powerful incentive of all to win her over. She loved him as he loved her, and somehow love would find a way.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  « ^ »

  "And then what did he do?" Judith asked as she set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of Abby.

  "He left," Abby replied as she dug into her breakfast.

  After a restless night brought on as much by Jack's visit as by her overly long afternoon nap, Abby had crawled out of bed just after dawn, showered and dressed in khaki shorts with a comfortable elastic waist and a bright yellow T-shirt, and set off for her grandparents' apartment. She had known they would be up and about despite the early hour. She had also known her unexpected arrival would be as welcome as it had been.

  She had needed to talk to someone about Jack's proposal—someone who would listen sympathetically, then offer sound advice, preferably supportive of the decision she had already made.

  As Judith prepared breakfast, she and Hank had listened quietly while Abby related the events of the previous day. She told them about running into Jack at the real estate agency, how she inadvertently revealed her pregnancy, and his subsequent visit to her mother's house where he had asked her to marry him.

  All that she had left out of her recitation was his mention of her feelings for him—feelings she had revealed that night in December and, until yesterday, had been fairly sure he'd failed to remember.

  "Well, Abby, what I can't understand is why you're so bound and determined to run him off," Hank commented as he slathered strawberry jam on a slice of toast. "You must have had some fondness for each other the night you made that baby." He glanced at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "And he sounds like a decent fellow, willing to accept his responsibilities. These days, most men wouldn't bother. In my opinion, you could do a heck of a lot worse."

  "But Jack Randall isn't in love with me," Abby said, keeping her tone matter-of-fact. "I knew that in December and I know it now. He only proposed because he considers it his duty. And as I've told Gran several times already, I don't want or need his charity."

  "Talking about love can be hard for some men. Sometimes they're better at showing it," Judith pointed out, joining Abby and Hank at the ta
ble.

  "When we were together in December, Jack told me how much he'd loved his wife," Abby admitted. "He didn't seem to have any trouble saying the word, then."

  "But he hasn't said that he loves you?"

  Feigning interest in forking up the last of her eggs, Abby looked away from her grandmother's questioning gaze and shook her head.

  "What if he did?" Judith prodded. "Would you agree to marry him?"

  If she thought that Jack really, truly loved her, she would marry him in a minute, Abby acknowledged, though she didn't say as much aloud. No sense allowing her grandparents to get their hopes up.

  "Jack is not the type to say something he doesn't mean," she hedged instead. "He's concerned about my well-being and the baby's, but that's as far as his feelings for us go."

  "Concern for another person, especially if that person is the mother of your child, can easily grow into love, Abby," her grandmother insisted. "I've seen it happen more often than not over the years."

  "But there's no guarantee that it will," Abby countered, refusing to abandon her position. "And I'm not going to put myself in a situation where I have to be grateful for whatever crumbs of affection some man chooses to toss my way. I saw what that did to my mother. I'm not going to let the same thing happen to me."

  "Larissa was a much different person than you are," Judith said. "She wanted fame and fortune more than anything, but she thought she could get it the easy way by marrying money. She made some unfortunate choices at a very young age, and when things didn't turn out quite the way she anticipated, she never could seem to pull herself together again.

  "She never really talked about your father. All I know for sure is that he came from a wealthy family, and she must have loved him very much. I have a feeling he must have been married, too. I'm guessing that's why he abandoned her when she needed him most. He hurt her badly, no doubt about it. But she never let that color her feelings for you. She always loved you, in her own way.