Pregnant with the Boss's Baby

by Sue MacKay

  Tamara snuggled into him. ‘Pretty darned good, huh, Dr Maguire?’

  ‘More than,’ he agreed. ‘I want you to meet someone tomorrow.’

  Sitting up, she locked her eyes on him. ‘Who?’

  ‘My mam. Thought we could have a call. I’d have to check she’s at home, otherwise we’ll try on Sunday. But be warned, Sunday means the whole tribe will probably turn up at her house.’

  He could see doubt warring with pleasure in her face. ‘Is this to tell her about the baby?’

  ‘Yes. She’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘But you’re not married. Will that be okay?’ Her voice trailed off.

  Now was not the time to talk about marriage—not in a pub with too many sets of ears flapping. ‘Mam will be more than happy we’re having a baby. Trust me on this.’

  ‘I wish my mother would listen long enough to hear my news.’

  ‘Want to try again over the weekend?’

  ‘I can, but I guarantee the result will be the same.’ Now that smile had disappeared completely, tugging at his heartstrings.

  He wanted to smother this woman with love and affection, give her all the things she’d missed out on for so long. There was that L word again. What was going on in his head? Patience. His new go-to word. Rushing either him or Tam was not the way to do things. ‘Want another sparkling water? Or shall we head home?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Home? Whose?’

  As in we don’t live together. Yep, he got it. ‘My apartment’s closer.’ And not filled with objects from your past.

  ‘I have nothing but the best memories of your apartment.’ Her smile was slow, and teasing, and struck him right under his ribs.

  ‘Up to making more?’

  Tam stood and held her hand out to him. ‘Show me.’

  * * *

  Memories. Tamara hugged herself as she waited at the finish line the next day for Conor to appear around the far corner. They’d made some amazing ones last night back at Conor’s place. She was stacking up a load lately. All with one central figure.

  Conor.

  There. Running hard as he aimed for the end of the race, strangers and her cheering him on. His jaw was fixed in a determined way she’d not seen before. Those long athletic legs stretching out, eating up the metres, his strong arms pumping the air. Doing this to keep healthy, to stay alive. She could only hope he didn’t go crazy and overdo the fitness thing now that he was becoming a father. Too much could be as dangerous as too little.

  ‘Go, Conor,’ she yelled, and jumped up and down. ‘You can do it.’

  He wasn’t about to win the race—someone had already done that. He wasn’t even in the first couple of hundred runners home, but he obviously wanted to keep the place he had, and therefore so did she.

  As he passed her she waved and shouted, ‘You’re amazing, Conor Maguire.’ She couldn’t run one kilometre, let alone ten, in a good time.

  His running shorts and singlet clung to his sweat-drenched skin, outlining every muscle, the wide chest and narrow hips she adored exploring. Not the perfect athlete’s body, but perfect to her. The body that fitted hers, made hers hum. The man who was determined to be a part of her and their baby’s life regardless of any argument she might put up. The man she wanted onside every step of the way with their child. With her. For life.

  Memories. Those new ones felt good, right.

  She walked towards him. He’d finished, was leaning over, hands on his knees as he took in great lungsful of air. She touched his shoulder, then his head. ‘You’re nuts. You know that, don’t you?’

  His eyes were that light blue she adored when he dragged his head up. ‘I figured out halfway through that it would’ve been as energetic to have stayed in bed with you this morning, and a lot more enjoyable.’

  ‘Good answer.’ She dug into the day pack she’d carried slung over her shoulder all morning and pulled out his towel and water bottle. ‘Here.’

  ‘I was a bit short on energy today.’ He grinned.

  ‘That’ll teach you for carrying that rubbish bin out to the roadside this morning.’

  ‘Nothing to do with the midnight antics in my bedroom, you reckon?’

  She stepped back, hands up. ‘I’m not taking the blame for your poor performance. In the race, I mean,’ she added with a laugh.

  ‘Is that a compliment? Wonders will never cease.’ He shrugged out of the singlet and pulled on a sweatshirt. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘You don’t want to stay for the speeches and prizegiving?’ Not something that would excite her, but she hadn’t been the one to put all the effort into running for the children’s charity.

  Conor shook his head. ‘I’d prefer a shower, cold beer and food, and time with you—alone.’

  Tenderness spread throughout her. This special treatment was—well, special. She was so not used to it. What if—? No. Conor meant what he’d said, showed her in actions as much as he put it in words. He cared. There was a soft tightening behind her breasts as she slipped her hand into his. ‘Let’s go.’

  She was getting used to being this close to him. She felt safe. But her heart was still secure despite that achy nudge. The love factor was still on lock-down.

  * * *

  Tamara grabbed her phone to see who was calling. The band tightening around her heart relaxed. ‘Morning, Conor.’

  She’d missed him from the moment he’d climbed out of her bed midevening last night to go back to his apartment. At her insistence. They’d spent the afternoon doing weekend chores, grocery shopping for each of them, going to the farmers’ market, doing their laundry, and getting on too well. Spooked at how well, Tamara had suggested Conor go back to his place after they’d made love. It was one thing to acknowledge to herself she was happy with the way they were progressing; it was quite another to be reminded of it at every turn, each glance. Too much too soon. She just wasn’t as ready to have Conor full time in her day-to-day life as she’d thought.

  ‘Hey, Tam, how are you?’

  Back to calling her Tam. He can’t have been too peeved at being kicked out of her bed. ‘Couldn’t be better.’ Or was he using that to wind her in as he wished?

  Stop it, Tamara Washington. Give the guy a break. He deserves so much better of you than this.

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘Bursting with energy.’

  ‘After that ten k. Impressive.’

  ‘You forgot to add the rest of my activities.’ There was laughter in his voice. Was Conor happy? With her? To be with her?

  ‘I haven’t forgotten anything.’ Scary. What really got to her was that it mattered. Conor in her life outside work was beginning to mean something special.

  ‘Feel like catching the ferry across to Devonport for lunch? The day’s perfect for being out on the water.’

  ‘That’d be awesome.’ The sky was blue for as far as she could see from her window. ‘The harbour should be calm enough for my stomach.’ It had done its morning ritual hours ago.

  ‘You worry too much,’ he admonished softly, that brogue tickling her in places best left alone unless he was standing right beside her. ‘You’re usually back to normal in no time at all.’

  ‘What don’t you notice?’

  ‘Hard not to when you’re usually scoffing a pastry by nine o’clock.’

  ‘Stop talking and get around here.’ She pressed ‘off’, feeling a hundred percent happier than before he’d phoned. So simple. One short call and her life was back on track. The new track that involved Conor and the baby and a life.

  The one that had had her going through her wardrobe earlier to throw out all the shapeless clothes she’d accumulated. How had she let herself get so down that she hadn’t cared about her looks? No one from her past would believe that. Right from when she’d been a
toddler, clothes had been as important as being her father’s special girl.

  Today she sported another pair of capri pants and a blouse from a time when she had dressed well, the surprise being that they still fitted perfectly. But not for long. Her fingers splayed across her stomach. Did maternity wear come with style and flair? Must do, surely?

  ‘I’m going on a date,’ she sang as she applied eyeliner. A real dinky-die date with a real dinky-die hot man with a body dreams were made of.

  Look what usually happened to her dreams.

  She shivered, slapped the eyeliner pencil on the counter and tugged the mascara wand out of its tube.

  Not the way to go, Tamara.

  Ding-dong.

  ‘Coming,’ she sang. Since Conor’s first visit here, on the day she’d told him she was pregnant, she’d grown to love the sound of her doorbell.

  Even better was the kiss Conor gave her the moment she opened the door. His mouth claimed hers as though he would never leave her again. When he pushed his tongue across her lips she opened her mouth and let him in. Savoured his taste, the feel of him, his scent. Truly knew him, not as the father of her baby, the man she’d worked with for nearly a year, the guy who had sworn to stand by her, but as Conor Maguire—the whole package, the man who she could too easily fall in love with if she ever relaxed enough. Her body ached for him from her toes to her mouth. ‘Have we got time?’ she whispered through their kiss.

  She was swung up against Conor’s chest and carried towards her bedroom without his mouth shifting off hers. Guess that was a yes, then.

  * * *

  Some time later Conor stepped out of the bathroom, saying, ‘Let’s go and have us some fun. Have you got a jacket? There could be a sea breeze while we’re on the ferry.’

  Tamara snatched up the one she’d put on the table earlier. ‘Yes, and sunscreen to protect my pasty winter skin.’

  ‘It’s me who’ll need that. My Irish skin can’t handle the Kiwi sun.’

  The crossing was calm. Baby stomach hadn’t objected. Bathed in sunshine, Devonport was busy with city dwellers out for a stroll and an alfresco lunch.

  Walking slowly, her hand in Conor’s, stopping to window-gaze at pottery, art and clothes, Tamara hadn’t felt so relaxed in years. ‘It’s as though everything’s coming together perfectly,’ she spilled as they sat down at a small round table outside a lunch bar. Then the familiar dread crept in. Too perfectly. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Think you’re tempting fate?’ Conor asked.

  ‘Over the last couple of years, whenever I’ve dared to think things might be looking up, something awful has happened.’ And since they’d never looked up half as much as they were now, she might have a lot to fear.

  ‘You’re not on your own any more. We’re a team. We’re going to watch out for each other.’

  ‘Aw, shucks. You say the loveliest of things sometimes.’ Sniff, sniff.

  ‘I wouldn’t if I knew it was going to make you cry.’ With the paper napkin from the plate at his elbow he gently dabbed her eyes.

  Which only increased the volume of water oozing down her cheeks.

  ‘Hey, steady. These napkins aren’t made for waterfalls.’ Conor’s lips tipped upwards, sending her stomach into a riot of butterflies.

  ‘I wish my dad could’ve met you. He’d have liked you.’ Dad had dreamed of walking his daughter down the aisle since the first time he’d held her in his hands. Which had absolutely nothing to do with Conor. She wasn’t marrying him, just setting up house to provide for their child.

  ‘I’d have liked that too.’ Conor screwed up the wet napkin and dropped it in the centre of the table. ‘Want to order?’

  They shared a large Hawaiian pizza and Conor had a beer while Tamara stuck to water. Leaning back in her chair, she glanced along the road to where the tide lapped at the edge of the promenade. ‘I could stay here for ever.’ There wasn’t a driving need to fill gaps in conversation or to wonder what Conor might be thinking. ‘Have you decided about following up on the Sydney interview?’

  ‘How would you feel if I did? Would you be okay with joining me there? If you are and I get the position then I’ll stay a few extra days to look for somewhere for us to live.’ Caution lay between them, the cosy atmosphere gone.

  ‘There’s nothing to keep me here apart from my job, which I was going to give up at the end of the year to go to university. Kelli is my only friend and she would be the last person to want me not getting on with my life, and that’s with you now. You and wee man.’ Her hand circled her belly. Was it her imagination or had her stomach begun to pop out now that she’d accepted her pregnancy?

  ‘You aren’t agreeing to move just to keep me happy?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m all for making changes in my life, and there are a lot coming up. Why not start our new life in a place neither of us has been before?’

  ‘That job in Sydney’s only for twelve months and then we get to repeat this conversation.’

  ‘Done. Sydney it is. Because I know you’ll be offered the position. They’d have to be crazy not to.’ Something like excitement fizzed in her veins. ‘I feel I’m starting to live again. My primary goal is no longer to keep my head down and avoid facing up to difficult people or decisions.’

  ‘You were focused on going to university and med school.’

  ‘I procrastinated for ever. All those “t”s and “i”s. If you hadn’t kept telling me I could do anything if I wanted it badly enough, I’d probably still be dithering about applying.’ Now the decision had been taken away from her it was surprising how little that hurt. How could it when she was going to become a mother?

  ‘You could apply in Sydney.’

  He’d just said he’d only be there a year. Anyway, ‘I don’t want to become a doctor at the moment. Being a hands-on mum is what I’d like to be next. Does that make me sound flaky? Unreliable?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. He might say yes. ‘Imagine all those hours I’d have to spend studying and later working and there’d be a wee man at home not getting my full attention. I don’t think so. I’ll get a part-time job nursing.’

  ‘You can stay at home if you want. Be a full-time mother.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ It was too early to accept his offer, if she could ever bring herself to do that. She was still getting her head around the fact she had agreed to leave Auckland. It felt right, but it was a huge leap in trust. What a difference a week made, unless she was back to her old tricks and handing over her heart too easily.

  No, I refuse to believe that.

  Until proved wrong, I will believe in Conor. Totally.

  Because otherwise she’d do her head in, working it all out. Anyway, her heart still belonged to her, not Conor.

  * * *

  ‘We don’t have to hurry back to the city.’ Conor watched Tam across the table. ‘Want to walk along the beach?’ A relaxed Tamara was something to enjoy. She didn’t do it often enough. Was he about to push too hard, too fast?

  ‘That’s a great idea.’

  Placing some money under his plate, Conor rose and reached for her hand. ‘I’ve never held a woman’s hand so often.’ He winced. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t exactly tactful.’

  ‘We come with pasts. Not that I know anything about yours. Come on, spill. Any world-stopping affairs? Or a great love of your life that didn’t work out?’

  Now who was being tactless? But he rolled with it because it might help his cause by knocking down some more barriers. ‘There was a girl I thought I’d love for ever, until the day she swiped my piece of birthday cake from my school bag and left me her mouldy scone. We were seven.’

  ‘Silly girl. She might’ve got the whole cake if she’d played nice.’

  He nudged her. ‘Remember that.’ He swung their hands between them. ‘Next I fell ha
rd for a student at med school until she turned up one day sporting a rock on her finger and her resignation in the other hand. She’d found the specialist she wanted to marry and live the good life with.’

  ‘That must’ve hurt.’

  ‘Only my pride. We weren’t well suited. For a while I stuck to having fun without commitment, the only way to go when most hours were taken up with study.’ The old demon rose. ‘After my heart attack there was no way I was looking for a serious relationship.’

  Her fingers jerked in his, but she didn’t withdraw.

  Conor stopped and took her into his arms to gaze into those deep eyes. ‘Seems from the day I met you life took a bat and beat me over the skull, because everything I adhered to regarding relationships flew out the window. It has taken time for me to recognise what was going on.’ Did she see where he was headed?

  Her tongue worried at the centre of her top lip. ‘You’re okay with that? It’s been a shock for both of us.’

  ‘I’m not just talking about the baby, Tam.’

  ‘Oh.’ Worry, worry. Then she pulled away and continued walking along the beach.

  They were still surrounded by kids and dogs, and couples, and elderly women chatting. Conor went with Tam, ready to wait a bit longer, despite the impatience sizzling in his veins.

  Her fingers slipped into his again. ‘That heart attack has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Too much. But not all bad. ‘My mother struggled to come to terms with losing Dad and my brother. There was a while there when occasionally she’d go out to the store to get something and not come home.’

  Tam gasped. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘The first time I was with a playmate and his mother went to find her. The second time it happened during the night and I woke up. My crying must’ve been loud because the neighbour rang the cops, who turned up real fast.’

  ‘Were you taken away?’

  ‘Fortunately, no. There’s only so much a four-year-old could cope with.’ That would’ve meant the start of welfare and strangers and he had already been broken-hearted. ‘One of the cops was Dave and he’d known Mam for a long time so he stayed with me while his colleagues searched for her. It was Dave who spent hours with Mam, talking about whatever was important to her, and after that whenever she felt the urge to get away she’d ring him.’