A Home for Adam
Page 5
“I appreciate it,” she replied dryly. She ran a hand through her tousled curls and looked again toward the darkened window. “What time is it?”
Adam glanced at his watch. “Just after two.” Following her glance toward the window, he added, “It’s starting to snow again. I was listening earlier to the battery-powered radio in the kitchen. The weather bureau is predicting another couple of inches tonight.”
“Damn.” So much for getting out of here anytime today, Jenny thought.
“Jenny, there’s a cellular phone in my car. I was thinking about calling my grandmother later to make sure she’s okay, and to let her know I’m all right. Are you sure there’s no one you want called?” Adam asked. “Won’t your parents be worried if they don’t hear from you?”
“I told you, I haven’t talked to my parents in almost a year,” she said coolly. “They aren’t expecting to hear from me.”
He glanced at her stomach. “Do they know about the baby?”
“No.”
“Jenny—”
She pushed herself to her feet. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said bluntly.
Caught off guard, he hesitated. “I’ll fix us something to eat,” he said after a moment. “I’m sure you’re getting hungry. I know I am.”
Jenny nodded and headed for the bathroom without looking at him again. He’d learned more about her than she’d intended to tell him already, she thought. She wasn’t willing to tell him any more, no matter how curious he might be.
They were, after all, only strangers stranded together temporarily. The snow would end soon, and somehow or another, Jenny would be on her way again. Adam Stone could forget he’d ever met her.
She was sure it wouldn’t take him long, though something told her she wouldn’t forget him quite so easily.
Chapter Four
Pleased to have her own clothing available now, Jenny washed up and changed into a cheery red-and-blue plaid maternity sweater and blue knit maternity pants with thick red socks. She brushed her dark curls the best she could and even added a light touch of makeup. She wasn’t primping, she assured herself; it was simply good manners to try to look somewhat presentable for her host.
Adam smiled when she appeared in response to his call for lunch. “You look very nice,” he told her.
She felt like an idiot for blushing. She knew exactly how she looked. Like a red-and-blue plaid hot-air balloon. Still, she managed to say politely, “Thank you.”
“I’ve made grilled cheese sandwiches and canned cream of tomato soup. Is that okay?”
“It’s fine. Thank you. But you really don’t have to wait on me, Adam. It’s not as if I’m an invited guest.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied. “I have to eat, anyway.”
Jenny found that she had very little appetite, but she tried to eat, since Adam had gone to the trouble of preparing the meal. She had to make an effort to keep up her end of the light conversation during lunch; for some reason, she was awfully tired today.
Must be the bizarre circumstances she’d landed herself in this time, she thought ruefully.
Though Jenny offered, Adam insisted on washing up after the meal. “You look a bit pale,” he said, studying her face much too perceptively. “Why don’t you just sit by the fire and rest awhile? Take a nap, if you like. It’s not as if there’s anything more exciting to do.”
She allowed herself to be persuaded to stay by the fire, though she didn’t want to nap. She opened the book she’d been reading earlier and tried to stay awake as she concentrated on the story. And then a commotion from the kitchen brought her head up sharply, her sleepy eyes suddenly wide.
There was a loud thud, and a crash of breaking glass, followed by a low string of curses. Concerned, she tossed the book aside and hurried to investigate.
Adam stood on one foot by the sink, broken glass scattered on the floor around him. He was bent over his left foot, which he held in his hand as he balanced awkwardly against the counter behind him. Jenny noticed at a glance that his once-white sock was already turning red with blood. She gasped.
“Stay back,” he said, motioning toward her own stocking feet. “There’s broken glass everywhere.”
“You’re hurt,” she said, approaching him cautiously.
“I knocked a glass off with my elbow and then stumbled onto it,” he explained, his stubbled jaw hardened by pain and self-disgust. “Jenny, be careful. It won’t do any good if you cut yourself, too.”
“I’m not going to cut myself,” she said, reaching for the broom propped in one corner of the utilitarian kitchen. “Keep still a minute while I sweep this out of the way,” she ordered. “Don’t put your weight on your foot, there could be glass still embedded in it.”
“There is,” Adam grunted, picking at the bottom of his bloody sock.
“Leave it alone. I’ll look at it.”
Adam scowled, and Jenny could tell he didn’t like being the one on the receiving end of orders. As she swept the last of the glass into a neat pile, she mused that she rather liked being the one giving the orders for a change.
Jenny bustled Adam into a chair at the kitchen table, then told him to stay there while she fetched the first-aid kit from the cabin’s only bathroom. “And leave that foot alone,” she added over her shoulder as she left the room. “I’ll take care of it.”
Adam ignored her, of course. He carefully peeled the sock away from his bleeding foot, wincing as shards of glass peeled away with it. How could he have been so stupid? He never did careless things like this. What had he been thinking of when he’d clumsily knocked the glass to the floor and then brought his foot right down on top of it?
Jenny reappeared at that moment, a white plastic box in one hand and a frown on her face. “I told you to leave it alone,” she said with a long-suffering sigh, as though she’d known very well that he would do no such thing.
He shrugged. “I was just looking at it.”
She knelt in front of him, made awkward by her condition, and yet oddly graceful at the same time. He was still wondering how she managed that when she took his foot in her hand.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the situation, Adam straightened abruptly. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I can handle it.”
“Be quiet,” she said absently, intently studying the jagged cut that lanced across the pad of his foot. “There’s still a piece of glass in here. I’m going to have to take it out. See if there are any tweezers in that kit, will you?”
Adam lifted an eyebrow at her tone.
When had she gotten so cool and bossy? Did medical emergencies always bring out this side of her? Darned if she didn’t sound exactly like the head nurse back at the hospital; the one who didn’t like him very much and had never made much effort to hide her feelings.
He glanced into the first-aid kit, finding new tweezers still wrapped in sterile paper. “Really, Jenny, this isn’t necessary,” he said. “I can—”
She took the tweezers from him and ripped open the paper wrapping. “I’ll need an antiseptic next,” she said, ignoring his words as she bent over the cut. “And a large adhesive bandage. You don’t want to get this cut dirty. I’ve heard that feet are particularly vulnerable to infections.”
He thought briefly of informing her that he didn’t need supermarket-magazine medical advice from her; that he had several degrees in medicine and was actually considered an authority in some venues. He opened his mouth to speak, but a gasp of pain escaped him instead of the words he’d intended.
“Damn it!” he said when he was capable of coherence again. “That hurt.”
Holding a large sliver of bloody glass clasped in the tweezers, Jenny looked up at him, her amber-brown eyes soft with sympathy. “I know,” she murmured. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.”
He was immediately overcome by an almost irresistible urge to apologize in return for snapping at her. Funny. He could hardly remember the last time he’d actually apologized to anyone. He gru
nted instead. “It’s okay.”
She looked back down at his foot. “Now it’s bleeding even worse,” she fretted, reaching for a gauze pad. “It could probably use stitches.”
No way was Adam letting her near him with a needle and thread. “It doesn’t need stitches,” he assured her quickly. “It’s just a glass cut. It’ll stop bleeding in a minute.”
“But—”
“Just pour on some antiseptic and slap a Band-Aid on it,” he said gruffly. “It’ll be fine.”
He wanted to curse again when she carefully and oh so slowly poured the antiseptic over his wound, making sure she saturated the area completely. It burned like fire, hurt worse than when he’d stepped on the glass in the first place. Any other time, he’d have expressed his displeasure in pithy, colorful terms. He bit his tongue to prevent the words from escaping.
He couldn’t easily explain his uncharacteristic forbearance. Maybe it was the solicitousness on Jenny’s pretty face as she bent so industriously over him, despite the discomfort she must be feeling in that ungainly position. Maybe it was the gentle touch of her cool fingers against his skin.
Or maybe it was the realization that this was the first time anyone had fussed over him in too many years to count. And, to his surprise, he rather liked it.
Stupid, of course. Adam was a caretaker by nature. Always the one in command, the one who looked out for everyone else. It had been his role since he was eight years old, one he’d long grown accustomed to, wouldn’t change even if he could. But—just this once—it felt sort of nice to let someone else take care of him. If only for a few, fleeting moments.
Jenny finished her task and then started to rise. She gave a muffled groan as she stumbled, thrown off-balance by her added bulk. Adam stifled a grin and gave her a hand, pulling her easily to her feet. She made a face. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Jenny set the first-aid supplies on the table, then turned toward the doorway. “I’ll get you a clean pair of socks.”
She was gone before he could tell her not to bother. Her added weight certainly didn’t slow her down much, even if it did make her a bit clumsy, Adam thought wryly.
He couldn’t help wondering what she’d looked like before pregnancy had distorted her figure. He’d bet she was naturally slender and graceful, judging from her fine bone structure. It wasn’t hard to guess what her jerk of an ex-lover had seen in her. After all, even under these circumstances, Adam was fighting an entirely inappropriate attraction to her.
What Adam couldn’t understand was how anyone could purposefully hurt her.
* * *
The storm began again early that evening, arriving in a gust of wind and a heavy curtain of wet, icy snow.
Still without electricity, Adam and Jenny were staying close to the fire. The skies had darkened, and there was no longer enough natural light for reading. Adam had unearthed an old-fashioned lantern from a storage room at the back of the cabin, along with several cans of fuel. The lantern and the firelight gave the room a bright, golden glow in the center, which faded to deep shadows in the corners.
The fire crackled and popped and the lantern hissed softly, the sounds lulling Jenny into a near stupor.
Realizing she was falling asleep—how could she possibly be sleepy again?—she roused to ask Adam, “How’s your foot?”
He looked up from his book. “Mmm? Oh, it’s fine. Hardly sore.”
“Good.” She shifted in the chair, trying vainly to get comfortable.
“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten much today.”
“I’m not at all hungry right now. But, please, don’t wait for me. If you’re hungry...”
He shook his head. “No. I’m fine.” He closed his book and set it aside.
“I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.”
“I’m getting tired of reading,” Adam admitted. “I’m not used to this much inactivity.”
“What had you planned to do to entertain yourself while you were here—before the storm hit, I mean?”
He shrugged and made a sheepish face. “Just sit around and read. For some reason, that idea greatly appealed to me last week.”
“You must lead a very busy life.”
“Yeah. Is your back hurting? You keep squirming around and rubbing it.”
She dropped her hand, not having realized she was massaging her lower back until Adam brought it to her attention. “My back hurts all the time these days,” she confessed. “I suppose it’s just all part of the condition I’m in.”
“Would you like me to rub it for you?”
She blinked. The thought of Adam Stone giving her a back rub—the image of his big, strong hands moving slowly against her skin—sent a funny feeling through her. A shivery, not entirely unpleasant feeling that made her frown in self-reproval.
Whatever had gotten into her? Was temporary insanity also a part of this condition?
“No, thank you,” she said politely, but firmly. “I’m fine.”
“Do you play gin rummy?”
Now that seemed safe enough. “Yes. Do you have a deck of cards?”
“There are several decks, as well as a couple of board games, on the top shelf of the linen closet. I guess the management is prepared for bouts of cabin fever when the weather turns bad.”
She smiled and motioned toward the lantern. “It seems the management is prepared for all sorts of contingencies.”
“Yeah. I’ll have to thank the manager for that when we finally get out of here.”
Jenny thought about his words while Adam went off to fetch the cards, limping only a bit on his bandaged foot. He was beginning to sound impatient to leave, she thought. She couldn’t blame him, of course—trapped in a cabin in the woods with a pregnant stranger in the middle of a winter storm could hardly be his notion of an ideal vacation.
She should be eager to get out of here herself.
She couldn’t imagine why she wasn’t.
Adam was gone a bit longer than she’d expected. When he returned, he had a deck of cards tucked into his shirt pocket and steaming mugs gripped in each hand.
“I made us some tea,” he said. “It seems to be getting cooler in here, despite the fire.”
She nodded and tucked her feet more tightly beneath her. “I’d noticed that,” she admitted.
He set the mugs on the coffee table, plucked an afghan from the couch and briskly smoothed it around her. “Better?”
Flustered by his casual attention, she nodded and avoided his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.”
He murmured a response while he carefully pulled the coffee table in front of her, tossed a couple of throw pillows on the floor on the other side and settled onto them, facing her from across the low table. “I’ll deal,” he said.
Jenny nodded and reached for her tea.
She should have expected that Adam would take advantage of the opportunity to find out more about her during the card game. He seemed to be awfully curious about her—and not at all reticent about asking questions that others might have considered overly inquisitive.
“Why don’t you get along with your father?” he asked from out of the blue.
Jenny frowned at the cards in her hand. “I just don’t,” she said shortly. “You forgot to discard.”
“Oh. Right.” He tossed a three of clubs onto the table and sipped his tea before asking, “What about your mother? Do you get along with her?”
“About the same as I do with my father. And I’d rather not talk about this right now, Adam.”
He didn’t seem offended. “Fine.”
He picked up the ten of hearts she’d just discarded. “Have you thought of any names for your baby?”
There was no following his line of thinking. At least she didn’t mind talking about the baby—as long as he didn’t start offering unwanted advice again. “I’ve given it some thought, of course. But I haven’t made any decisions yet.”
“What are some of your possibilities?”
“Ashley?” Adam repeated, wrinkling his nose. He shook his head. “Too sissy. The other boys would eat him for lunch.”
Exasperated, Jenny frowned at him. “Did I ask your opinion?”
“No, but you obviously need it. Trust me, this is a guy’s judgment. Don’t name the kid Ashley unless you’re prepared to teach him self-defense before he starts kindergarten.”
“That’s a sexist, archaic viewpoint.”
He shrugged. “Probably. But, still, I’d stick with Nicholas if I were you. Nick’s a good name. A boy could live with that one.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your insight,” Jenny said dryly.
Her sarcasm passed right over his handsome dark head. “Don’t mention it. How about if the kid’s a girl?”
“Tiffany, maybe.”
“Too cute. She’ll grow up someday, you know. You want her grandkids to have a grandmother named Tiffany?”
Jenny couldn’t help being ruefully amused.
Adam Stone was something else, she mused. Was there any subject he didn’t consider himself an expert about? “How about Jane?”
“Too plain.”
“Kate?”
“Too common.”
“Phoenix.”
“Too un-common. Whoever heard of anyone named Phoenix?”
Jenny laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Well, what name do you like?”
Adam gave it a moment’s thought, taking the question seriously—as she should have known he would. “Melissa,” he said finally. “I like Melissa.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “An old girlfriend?”
“No. As far as I know, I’ve never actually known anyone by that name. I’ve just always liked it.”
“Maybe you’ll have a daughter of your own someday and you can name her Melissa.”
Adam blew a skeptical breath through his nose. “I doubt it.”
Jenny raised an eyebrow at the certainty in his tone. “You don’t want children?”
He shrugged. “I like kids okay, but I don’t expect to have any. It takes two to make one, you know.”