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by Debbie Macomber

  The front door opened and Carol stepped outside and to her car, grabbing a bag of groceries.

  “Carol.” She hadn’t seen him.

  She turned abruptly at the sound of her name. “Steve,” she cried out brokenly and dropped the brown shopping bag. Without the least bit of hesitation, she came flying across the lawn.

  He met her halfway, and wrapping his arms around her waist, he closed his eyes to the welcome feel of her body against his. His happiness couldn’t be contained and he swung her around. Her lips were all over his face, kissing him, loving him, welcoming him.

  Steve drank in her love and it humbled him. He held her gently, fearing he would hurt her, and kissed her with an aching tenderness, his mouth playing over the dewy softness of hers.

  His hands captured her face and her deep blue eyes filled with tears as she smiled tremulously at him. “I’ve missed you so much. These have been the longest three months of my life.”

  “Mine, too.” His voice nearly choked, and he kissed her again in an effort to hide the tide of emotion he was experiencing.

  Steve picked up the scattered groceries for her and they walked into the house together.

  “Go ahead and put those in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

  She seemed nervous and flittered from one side of the room to the other.

  “I could fix you something if you’d like,” she suggested, her back braced against the kitchen counter.

  Steve’s eyes held hers, and the emotion that had rocked him earlier built with intensity every minute he was in her presence. “You know what I want,” he whispered, hardly able to speak.

  Carol relaxed, and blushed a little. “I want to make love with you so much.”

  He held his hands out to her and she walked toward him, locking her arms around his neck. She pressed her weight against him and Steve realized how slender she was, how fragile. Regret slammed into his chest with all the force of a wrecking ball against a concrete wall. She was nurturing his child within her womb, for God’s sake, and all he could think about was getting her into bed. He hadn’t even asked her how she was feeling. All he cared about was satisfying his own selfish lusts.

  “Carol …” His breath was slow and labored. Gently he tried to break free, because he couldn’t think straight when she was touching him.

  “Hmm?” Her hands were already working at his belt buckle, and her mouth was equally busy.

  He felt himself weakening. “Are you sure? I mean, if you’d rather not …”

  She released his zipper and when her hands closed around his naked hardness, he thought he would faint. His eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Don’t … don’t you think we should talk?” he managed to say.

  “No.”

  “But—”

  She broke away and looked up at him, her eyes hungry with demand. “Steven Kyle, what is your problem? Do you or do you not want to make love?”

  “I think … we should probably talk first. Don’t you?” He didn’t know if she would take him seriously with his voice shaking the way it was.

  She grinned, and when her gaze dropped to below his waistline, they rounded. “No. Because neither one of us is going to be able to say anything worth listening to until we take care of other things….”

  It wasn’t possible to love a woman any more than he did Carol at that moment, Steve thought. She reached for his hand and led him out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

  Like a lost sheep, he followed.

  * * *

  The newborn moon cast silvery shadows on the wall opposite the bed, and Steve sighed, feeling sated and utterly content. Carol slept at his side, her arm draped around his middle and her face nestled against his shoulder. Her tousled hair fell over his chest and he ran his fingers through it, letting the short, silky length slip through his hands.

  Gently he brushed a blond curl off her cheek and twisted his head so that he could kiss her temple. She stirred and sighed in her sleep. He grinned. If he searched for a hundred years he would never find a woman who could satisfy him the way Carol did.

  They hadn’t talked, hadn’t done anything but make love until they were both so exhausted that sleep dominated their minds. They may not have voiced the words, but the love between them was so secure it would take more than a bulldozer to rock it this time. Steve may not have had a chance to say the words, but his heart had been speaking them from the minute Carol had led him to bed.

  Bringing the blanket more securely over her shoulders, he wrapped his arm around her and studied her profile in the fading moonlight. What Lindy told him was true. Carol had lost weight; she was as slender as a bamboo shoot, and much too pale. She needed someone to take care of her and, he vowed in his heart, he would be the one.

  He almost wished she would roll over so that he could place his hand on her abdomen and feel for himself the life that was blossoming there. He felt weak with happiness every time he thought about their baby. He closed his eyes at the sudden longing that seared through his blood.

  Carol hadn’t yet told him that she was pregnant but he was sure she would in the morning. Until then, he would be content.

  He closed his eyes and decided to sleep.

  Steve woke first. Carol didn’t so much as stir when he climbed out of bed and reached for his clothes. Silently he tiptoed out of the room and gently closed the door. She needed her sleep.

  He made himself a pot of coffee and piddled around the kitchen, putting away the groceries that had been sitting on the counter all night. He pulled open the vegetable bin and carelessly tossed a head of lettuce in there. The drawer refused to close and he discovered the problem to be a huge shriveled up sweet potato. He took it out and, with an over the head loop shot Michael Jordan would have envied, tossed it into the garbage.

  Carol and sweet potatoes. Honestly. The last time he’d looked inside her refrigerator, it had been filled with the stuff in every imaginable form.

  He supposed he should get used to that kind of thing. It was a well-known fact that women often experienced weird food cravings when they were pregnant. Sweet potatoes were only one step above pickles and ice cream.

  Just a minute! That had been last Christmas … before Christmas.

  Steve’s heart seemed to stop and slowly he straightened. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he closed the refrigerator door. Carol had been stuffing down the sweet potatoes long before he’d accepted her dinner invitation. Weeks before, from the look of it.

  His thoughts in chaos, he stumbled into the living room and slumped into the chair. An icy chill settled over him. No. He refused to believe it, refused to condemn her on anything so flimsy. Then his gaze fell on a pair of knitting needles. He reached for her pattern book and noted the many designs for infant wear.

  His heart froze. The last time he’d been by the house, Carol had been knitting a baby blanket. When he’d asked her about it, she’d told him it was for a friend. His snort of laughter was mirthless. Sure, Carol! More lies, more deceit.

  And come to think of it, on Christmas Eve she’d pushed her knitting aside so that he couldn’t see it. She’d been knitting the same blanket for the same friend then, too.

  He was still stewing when Carol appeared. She smiled at him so sweetly as she slipped her arms into her robe.

  “Morning,” she said with a yawn.

  “Morning.”

  His gruffness must have stopped her. “Is something wrong?”

  Such innocent eyes … She’d always been able to fool him with that look. No more.

  “Steve?”

  “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  She released her breath in a long, slow sigh. “I wondered if you’d guess. I suppose I should have told you right away, but … we got sidetracked, didn’t we?”

  He could hardly stand to look at her.

  “You’re not angry, are you?” she asked, her eyes suddenly reflecting uncertainty.

  Again such innocence, such skill. “No, I suppose not.”


  “Oh, good,” she said with a feeble smile, “you had me worried there for a minute.”

  “One question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just whose baby is it?”

  Nine

  “Whose baby is it?” Carol repeated, stunned. She couldn’t believe Steve would dare to ask such a question when the answer was so obvious.

  “That’s what I want to know.”

  His face was drawn extremely tight—almost menacing. She moved into the room and sat across from him, her heart ready to explode with dread. She met his look squarely, asking no quarter, giving none. The prolonged moment magnified the silence.

  “I’m three months pregnant. This child is yours,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even.

  “Don’t lie to me, Carol. I’m not completely dense.” The anger that seeped into his expression was fierce enough to frighten her. Steve vaulted to his feet and started pacing in military fashion, each step precise and clipped, as if the drill would put order to his thoughts and ultimately to his life.

  Carol’s fingernails dug into the fabric on the sides of the overstuffed chair and her pulse went crazy. Her expression, however, revealed none of the inner turmoil she was experiencing. When her throat felt as if it would cooperate with her tongue, she spoke. “How can you even think such a thing?”

  Steve splayed his fingers and jerked them through his hair in an action that seemed savage enough to yank it out by the roots. “I should have known something was wrong when you first contacted me at Christmastime.”

  Carol felt some color flush into her cheeks; to her regret it probably convinced Steve she was as guilty as he believed.

  “That excuse about not wanting to spend Christmas alone was damn convenient. And if that wasn’t obvious enough, your little seduction scene should have been. God knows, I fell for it.” He whirled around to face her. “You did plan that, didn’t you?”

  “I … I …”

  “Didn’t you?” he repeated, in harsh tones that demanded the truth.

  Miserable and confused, Carol nodded. She had no choice but to admit to her scheme of seducing him.

  One corner of his mouth curved up in a half smile, but there was no humor or amusement in the action. The love that had so recently shone from his eyes had been replaced by condemnation.

  “If only you would let me explain.” She tried again, shocked by this abrupt turn of events. Only a few hours before, they’d lain in each other’s arms and spoken of a reconciliation. The promise that had sprung to life between them was wilting and she was powerless to stop it.

  “What could you possibly say that would change the facts?” he demanded. “I was always a fool when it came to you. Even after a year apart I hadn’t completely come to terms with the divorce and you, no doubt, knew that and used it to your advantage.”

  “Steve, I—”

  “It’s little wonder,” he continued, not allowing her to finish speaking, “that you considered me that perfect patsy for this intrigue. You used my love for you against me.”

  “Okay, so I planned our lovemaking Christmas Eve. You’re right about that. I suppose I was pretty obvious about the whole thing when you think about it. But I had a reason. A damn good one.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Carol hadn’t realized a man’s eyes could be so cold.

  “What do you know?” she asked.

  “That cake you’re baking in your oven isn’t mine.”

  “Oh, honestly, Steve. Your paranoia is beginning to wear a little thin. I’m doing my damnedest to keep my cool here, but you’re crazy if you think anyone else could be the father.”

  He raised his index finger. “You’re good. You know that? You’re really very good. That fervent look about you, as though I’m going off the deep end to even suspect you of such a hideous deed. Just the right amount of indignation while keeping your anger in check. Good, very good.”

  “Stop that,” she shouted. “You’re being ridiculous. When you get in this mood, nothing appeases you. Everything I say becomes suspect.”

  His hand wiped his face free of expression. “If I didn’t know better, I could almost believe you.”

  She hated it when Steve was like this. He was so convinced he was right that no amount of arguing would ever persuade him otherwise. “I’m going to tell you one last time, and then I won’t say it again. Not ever. We—as in you and I, Steve—are going to have a baby.”

  Steve stared at her for so long that she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He longed to believe her—she could recognize that yearning in his eyes—and yet something held him back. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, and he clenched his jaw so tightly that the sides of his face went white. Still the inner struggle continued while he glared at her, as if commanding the truth—as if to say he could deal with anything as long as it was true.

  Carol met that look, holding her gaze as steady and sure as was humanly possible. He wanted the truth, and she’d already given it to him. Nothing she could say would alter the facts: he was her baby’s father.

  Steve then turned his back on her. “The problem is, I desperately want to believe you. I’d give everything I’ve managed to accumulate in this life to know that baby was mine.”

  Everything about Steve, the way he stood with his shoulders hunched, his feet braced as if he expected a blow, told Carol he didn’t believe her. Her integrity was suspect.

  “I … my birthday—I was thirty,” she said, faltering as she scrambled to make him recognize the truth. “It hit me then that my childbearing years were numbered. Since the divorce I’ve been so lonely, so unhappy, and I thought a baby would help fill the void in my life.”

  He turned to look at her as she spoke, then closed his eyes and nodded.

  Just looking at the anguish in his face was almost more than Carol could bear. “I know you never believed me about Todd, but there’s only been one lover in my life, and that’s you. I figured that you owed me a baby. I thought if I invited you to spend Christmas with me and you accepted, that I could probably steer us into the bedroom. None of the problems we had in our marriage had extended there.”

  “Carol, don’t—this isn’t necessary. I already know you were—”

  “Yes, it is. Please, Steve, you’ve got to listen to me. You’ve got to understand.”

  He turned away from her again, but Carol continued talking because it was the only thing left for her to do. If she didn’t tell him now, there might never be another chance.

  “I didn’t count on anything more happening between us. I’d convinced myself I was emotionally separated from you by that time and all I needed was the baby …”

  “You must have been worried when I didn’t fall into your scheme immediately.”

  “What do you mean?” Carol felt frantic and helpless.

  “I didn’t immediately suggest we get back together—that must have had you worried. After Christmas Eve we decided to leave things as they were.” He walked away from her, but not before she saw the tilt of righteous indignation in his profile. “That visit to my apartment … what was your excuse? Ah yes, a button you’d found and thought might be mine. Come on, Carol, you should have been more original than that. As excuses go, that’s about as flimsy as they get.”

  “All right, if you want me to admit I planned that seduction scene, too, then I will. I didn’t get pregnant the way I planned in December … I had to try again. You had to know swallowing my pride and coming to you wasn’t easy.”

  He nodded. “No, I don’t suppose it was.”

  “Then you believe me?”

  “No.”

  Carol hung her head in frustration. “Naturally only one night of lovemaking wasn’t enough,” he said with a soft denunciation. “It made sense to plan more than one evening together in case I started questioning matters later. I’m pleased that you did credit me with some intelligence. Turning up pregnant after one time together would have seemed much too convenient. But twice … Well, that
sounds far more likely.”

  Carol was speechless. Once more Steve had tried and found her guilty, choosing to believe the worst possible scenario.

  “Fool that I am, I should have known something was up by how docile and loving you were. So willing to forget the past, forgive and go on with the future. Then there was all that talk about us starting a family. That sucked me right in, didn’t it? You know, you’ve always known how much I want children.”

  “There’s nothing I can say, is there?”

  “No,” he admitted bleakly. “I wonder what you would have told me next summer when you gave birth—although months premature, astonishingly the baby would weigh six or seven pounds and obviously be full term. Don’t you think I would have questioned you then?”

  She kept her mouth shut, refusing to be drawn into this kind of degrading verbal battle. From experience she knew nothing she could say would vindicate her.

  “If you don’t want to claim this child, Steve, that’s fine, the loss is yours. My original intent was to raise her alone anyway. I’d thought … I’d hoped we could build a new life together, but it’s obvious I was wrong.”

  “Dead wrong. I won’t let you make a fool of me a second time.”

  A strained moment passed before Carol spoke, and when she did her voice was incredibly weak. “I think it would be best if you left now.”

  He answered her with an abrupt nod, turned away and went to her bedroom to retrieve his shirt and shoes.

  Carol didn’t follow him. She sat, feeling numb and growing more ill with each minute. The nausea swelled up inside her until she knew she was going to empty her stomach. Standing, she rushed into the bathroom and leaned over the toilet in a ritual that had become all too familiar.

  When she’d finished, she discovered Steve waiting in the doorway, watching her. She didn’t know how long he’d been there.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, not looking at him, wanting him to leave so that she could curl into a tight ball and lick her wounds. No one could hurt her the way Steve did. No other man possessed the power.