Unexpectedly Expecting!

by Susan Mallery

  Mrs. Arnold frowned. “Yes, she did. It was six years ago. Her bronchitis turned nasty. You know, it’s not the flu that kills people, it’s the secondary infections.”

  “I’ve heard that,” Nora said, leading the woman to the back of the shop and the shampoo sinks.

  “I remember when my grandmother had a bad case of the flu,” Jill said helpfully. “I was very young at the time and I didn’t know what was wrong with her.”

  Within ten minutes the shop was buzzing with flu recaps, symptom comparisons and horror stories about people who just wouldn’t go see the doctor.

  Mission accomplished, Nora thought with some relief. Although the topic was bound to come up again. The thought of the handsome, single doctor paying a single woman daily house calls was too much temptation for even the most discreet of souls. And when she was the single woman in question, there was no telling what people were saying. After all, she was the one with the reputation for being unapproachable where the male population was concerned.

  Nora finished rolling Mrs. Arnold’s white hair into tight rollers and settled her under a dryer. She returned to her station to check her supplies. But even as she counted clean towels and noted that she needed more hairspray, her gaze drifted until she found herself staring across the street at the medical offices. Was Stephen there even now? Was he thinking about her the way she kept finding herself thinking about him?

  He’d been visiting her every day for the past four days, staying at least an hour, sometimes longer. He’d been funny, attentive, charming and completely professional. Not by a whisper or a glance had he allowed her to imagine he had anything but her health on his mind.

  Which was a good thing, she told herself. He should take his job seriously. She was glad he’d been able to spend all that time with her and not think about sex or his ridiculous suggestion that they have an affair. If only she could have had the same self-control.

  Because she’d been thinking about it plenty. Sometimes she told herself that she was crazy to even consider the idea. What was in it for her? Some good sex? A little companionship? So what? She didn’t have either of those now and she was just fine. A woman like herself should be looking for…looking for…

  Nora shook her head and forced herself to concentrate on the small cupboard next to her station. Supplies, she reminded herself. She was checking on supplies. As for what a woman like herself should be looking for—she didn’t have a clue. Marriage? A happily-ever-after? She didn’t think she was going to get either this time around. Her father had broken her heart when he’d left. It had taken her a long time to figure out that his leaving didn’t have anything to do with her and that it was okay to trust another man not to hurt her. Yet the very first man she’d given her heart to again had dumped her publicly. Between her past and all the awful stories she heard about men in the salon, why on earth would she want to commit to anything long term with any man? She was far better off alone.

  She straightened and headed for the supply room at the rear of the salon. As she passed Jill’s station, she heard the other woman talking about her kids.

  “They’re both doing really well in school this year,” Jill was saying. “We spent most of last summer concentrating on their reading skills. It wasn’t easy at the time, but it’s sure paid off. They’re keeping up, doing their homework and getting it right, and they both enjoy sitting down and reading a book now.”

  Mrs. Arnold raised the hood of her dryer. “My grandson Mark is at the top of his class,” she said proudly. “He’s going to be applying to colleges next year and his parents are talking about Harvard. Can you imagine?”

  “Oh, do you have a picture of Mark?” Kathy, one of the stylists, asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen a current one.”

  “In my purse.” The older woman looked around for her handbag.

  Nora retrieved it from the closet and brought it to her client. Mrs. Arnold showed the school picture of her handsome teenage grandson to everyone. Soon pictures were changing hands like cards at a poker game.

  Nora participated by smiling and making appropriate remarks. But she didn’t have any pictures of her own to pass around. Nor was she likely to. There was no husband, no children—not even any pets. As the other women talked about the people in their lives, she realized she was lonely and she’d been lonely for a long time.

  Nora made a quick excuse and hurried to the rest room. Once there, she locked the door behind her and sank onto the small straight-backed chair in the corner. Lonely. Of course. Why hadn’t she seen it before? All her friends were getting married and starting a family. Even her own brother was getting married. She was going to be thirty and she had to face the fact that if things continued the way they were now, she was going to live her life alone.

  Nora sucked in a breath. She didn’t mind not having a husband so much, but she ached at the thought of not having children. Somehow she’d always assumed she would be a mother.

  Her chest tightened and the symptom had nothing to do with her recent illness. Sadness filled her. A deep, bone-chilling pain that made it difficult for her to keep from shivering. She tried to tell herself that there were other ways to have children. She didn’t need a husband. She could adopt, or become a foster parent. She could go to a sperm bank, although to her mind that was a bit like ordering Chinese. Picking characteristics like so much moo shu chicken—one from column A, two from column B. But maybe, in a pinch.

  She shook her head and rose to her feet. “I don’t have time for this,” she told herself. “Not now.” She had a customer under the dryer, a full day of appointments and a man who wanted to have an affair with her.

  The latter was easy, she told herself. She’d decided what she would tell him. A simple, polite thanks but no thanks. She wasn’t interested in what he was offering. They could be friends, but she wasn’t willing to bother with anything else.

  Nora’s resolve lasted right up until Stephen Remington walked into her shop at six-fifteen that evening. All of her employees had already left and her last customer had paid and was slipping on a sweater before leaving. Normally the shop stayed open late on Fridays, but there was a big high school basketball game that everyone wanted to get to.

  Stephen breezed in as if the Snip ’n Clip was a second home to him. He nodded at her customer, held open the door like a real gentleman, then gave Nora a devastatingly sexy smile.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Fine.”

  She offered a bright smile of her own, all the while doing her best to ignore the fluttering in the region of her heart and the way that her palms suddenly felt damp. It was either a strong reaction to his presence or a relapse of the flu. She had a feeling that she wasn’t going to be lucky enough to be getting the flu again.

  “It’s your first day back,” he said. “I hope you didn’t overdo it.”

  “Me? No. I’m fine.”

  He leaned against the front counter. “I wanted to check on you because I’ve gotten used to seeing you every day.”

  Her throat went dry as her thighs seemed to heat up alarmingly. Was it her or had the temperature in the room just about doubled? And why did he have to look so darned cute in his chinos and light blue shirt? He was tall, good-looking, and she had the strongest urge to throw herself against him.

  Nora hurried toward the rear of the shop where she collected a broom and dustpan. She returned to her station and swept up the hair on the floor. What had happened to her resolve? Hadn’t she just that morning promised herself that she didn’t want anything to do with Stephen or his ridiculous proposition? Sex for sex’s sake. How insane. Except with her body all aquiver, it didn’t seem quite as crazy as she’d hoped.

  “I did have a full day,” she admitted, careful to not look at him. “But I gave myself several breaks. I’m a little tired, but nothing horrible. I plan to make it an early evening. A light dinner and then into bed for me.”

  Bed? Argh! Why did she have to say the “b” word? She em
ptied the dustpan into the trash and returned it and the broom to the corner.

  He straightened and walked toward her. “Nora, we have to talk.” He reached out to touch her arm.

  The second his fingers grazed her skin, she felt all her resolve giving way. In that second she knew she could deny him nothing. Not even when her good sense told her otherwise. Obviously she couldn’t trust herself to say no, so she had to keep him from asking.

  “I had been a little concerned,” she said, neatly stepping around him and hurrying to the front of the shop. Once there she pulled the shades. At least their discussion wouldn’t be witnessed by anyone walking by.

  “Concerned?”

  “You know, about being weak from being sick. But it wasn’t bad at all. We received a shipment for a new perm solution while I was gone. I used it for the first time today. I think it’s going to work well.”

  She turned and saw him walking purposefully toward her. Panic set in. She began straightening magazines in the waiting area. “Hasn’t the weather been terrific? Spring is kind of iffy around here. It can be warm and clear, but we also get those huge storms blowing in. That’s what caused the tornado. Oh, speaking of which, how’s that guy? The one in the back of the truck? Remember, he had that really deep cut and I was wondering if—”

  He took her in his arms and pressed his mouth to hers. She tried to resist him. Really. But the second his lips brushed hers, she had all the resolve of a marshmallow.

  He didn’t even kiss her long. Just a few seconds of contact. When he drew back she was out of breath and hungry. She wanted to throw herself into his embrace and beg him to take her right there.

  “We have to talk,” he repeated.

  “No.” She swallowed hard and tried to summon up a little backbone. “This is a really bad idea. We have nothing in common. You’re a doctor and I do hair.”

  He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything? I don’t care what you do for a living. You’re smart as a whip and if anyone is at risk of feeling inadequate in this relationship, it’s me. We get along. We can talk about anything. I think you’re funny, not to mention sexy as hell. So what’s the problem?”

  She liked what he was saying, but she refused to let herself be swayed. “We could never have a real relationship.”

  He still held on to her arms. Now he rubbed his thumbs up and down, sliding under her short sleeves and making her shiver. “Is that what you want? A traditional relationship?”

  She hesitated. “Not really. I don’t think many of them work.”

  “I don’t want that, either. I don’t want to fall in love or worry about getting married. What I want is something special with someone special. I’ve never been into quantity, so I’m not interested in sleeping around. I am interested in being your lover, however. I’d like that very much. I think we could have a great time, both in and out of bed. I promise to be monogamous, attentive and always make it good for you. I’d like us to be friends, doing things together. And when this dies a natural death, I would like us to be able to walk away without any hard feelings.”

  Her brain didn’t seem able to absorb all he was saying. “You make it sound so rational,” she said, not sure what she wanted. All she knew was that her body had never been on fire like this before. She’d thought she’d experienced passion before, but she’d been wrong. And if it was like this after a simple, chaste kiss, what would happen if they did the wild thing for real?

  “It is rational. Say yes.”

  Before she could figure out what she wanted to say, he was kissing her again. But this time the contact was far from chaste. Even as his mouth came down on hers, one of his hands slid to her rear, while the other settled on her breast. When she gasped in shock, his tongue slid into her mouth.

  They surged against each other. His fingers cupped her full curves, top and bottom. Instantly desire swept through her, making her knees buckle. She had to cling to him to keep from falling. Their tongues circled each other. The exquisite stroking was better than the last time. Perhaps because she knew what to expect. Every part of her was on fire. They couldn’t do this. She had to make him stop. She had to—

  He teased her nipple. Tension raced through her until she was afraid she might actually climax. Her muscles tensed in anticipation. He shifted and wrapped both arms around her, hauling her against him. His arousal jutted against her belly.

  He wanted her as much as she wanted him. How was she supposed to resist that?

  She pulled back and stared at him. Passion darkened his eyes. His breathing was as fast as her own.

  “I don’t think I can survive not having you,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

  She nodded. “Your place or mine?”

  Chapter Seven

  N ora pulled the sweater over her head and shoved her arms into the sleeves. As she straightened the garment, she kept glancing at the clock. Less than twenty minutes, she thought, trying not to panic. Stephen would be here in less than twenty minutes. It wasn’t nearly enough time to get everything done, but it was more than enough time for her to have about a million second thoughts.

  Her place, he’d said in answer to her breathless question of where they were to go next. Her place and he would give her an hour to get ready. When he’d spoken the words, an hour had seemed endless, but now she knew there would never be enough time for her to prepare.

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. What exactly did one wear to begin an affair? She wanted to appear sexy but not obvious, accessible without being easy. Clothes lay in crumpled heaps at her feet. She’d tried on nearly everything in her closet and nothing seemed right. Not to mention that she really hated this sweater.

  She jerked it over her head and tossed it on the floor with the other rejects. Clad only in a peach-colored bra and panties that she’d ordered from a ridiculously expensive catalog, she studied the rest of the clothes still in her closet.

  The man was visiting her for the express purpose of having sex. When she’d offered to cook something, he’d informed her that he wasn’t interested in any meal that didn’t include her. Remembering the words sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes. Damn.

  She reached in blindly and pulled out a cream-colored knit dress that buttoned up the front. It was short, fitted and left little to the imagination. Nora tilted her head to study the dress, then nodded. No point in being subtle. Two minutes later she had the dress buttoned just high enough to cover the front clasp of her bra. She grabbed a brush and ran it through her hair, then dabbed perfume on the inside of her elbows.

  A couple of well-aimed kicks sent the piles of clothes on the floor into the closet. She shoved the door closed, then studied her bedroom. She’d put on fresh sheets that morning. There were probably too many pillows and frills for Stephen’s taste, but that couldn’t be helped. There wasn’t anything embarrassing left out on the dresser or nightstand. Good.

  She hurried out of the bedroom and made a beeline for the kitchen. From the refrigerator she pulled out a bottle of white wine. She dug out the ice bucket, filled it with ice, then plopped the wine inside. Seldom used wineglasses had to be dusted before she put them on a tray and set the ice bucket next to it. She carried the tray into the living room. There was just enough time to sweep several days’ worth of newspapers into a corner behind the club chair, when someone knocked on her door.

  She jumped, her heart rising in her throat. He was here. Now what?

  “B-be right there,” Nora said, hating the faint shudder in her voice. She wanted to come off as coolly sophisticated, which is exactly the opposite of how she felt. She knew that she’d been crazy to agree to Stephen’s proposal. She could no more pull this off than she could develop a rocket capable of space flight to another galaxy. She would have to explain that to Stephen…just as soon as she gathered the courage to let him in.

  She paused by the front door and smoothed her hair. She’d opted for minimal makeup and no lipstick. Now
she tugged on her dress, glanced down at her bare feet and wondered if she should have worn shoes, then swallowed hard and opened the door.

  Stephen stood on her front porch. He’d changed into jeans and a white shirt. He was tall, lean and too handsome for words. He was also holding a huge spray of yellow roses. Her heart left her throat and plunged for her toes. She found herself unable to breathe, which didn’t really matter. He was a doctor and could easily revive her.

  “I took a chance on the flowers,” he said as he stepped into the house and handed her the bouquet. “I thought it might be too much of a cliché, but when I saw them, I couldn’t resist.”

  She inhaled the heady fragrance. “The yellow rose of Texas?”

  “Something like that.”

  She clutched the flowers in her arms, feeling a bit like a runner-up in a beauty pageant. “They’re beautiful. Thanks. I should probably put them in water. While I’m doing that, why don’t you pour us some wine?” She freed one hand long enough to motion to the tray she’d set up on the coffee table.

  Instead of moving, Stephen grinned at her. “Do you need to be drunk to do this?”

  “No, but it might help me relax.”

  “You’re nervous?”

  She thought about rolling her eyes while muttering “Well, duh!” but didn’t think either action was especially mood-setting. “Just a little,” is what she managed to say instead.

  “Then maybe we should get right to it,” he said, moving close, taking the flowers from her and dropping them onto the sofa. “Then you’ll have less time to think.”

  “You want to do it now?” She winced at the outrage in her voice. She cleared her throat. “What I meant is maybe we should talk, drink wine, relax.”

  Without shoes, she barely came as high as his nose. Which meant he could do something really irritating, like drop a kiss on her forehead.