And Baby Makes Six

by Pamela Dalton

  Riley swallowed, his gaze never leaving Abby’s. His face was alive with the inner conflict taking place. He sniffed. “She’s never sent me a birthday present.”

  If his real mother could see him now, would she regret the choices she made? Abby had to struggle with her own anger against the woman she didn’t know. But her anger wouldn’t help Riley. Hate destroyed. Love healed.

  Abby gave in to temptation and tried to smooth one of his stubborn, wayward curls. “When is your birthday?”

  “November fifth.”

  “Did you do anything special?”

  A hint of a smile came to his face. “Dad let me invite all of my friends to a pizza party.”

  “Did you have it here?”

  He shook his head. “We did last year. But Willie Gross broke the bathroom window, and Lionel spilled juice all over the couch. Dad said he’d let the pizza people clean up the mess from now on.”

  Abby nearly smiled at the thought of Devlin on his knees, cursing a stain. “You have a special dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He made sure you had a party even though he didn’t like cleaning up the mess. Not everybody has a dad like that.”

  Riley nodded. “Fred Stangler’s dad is real grumpy. He’s always yellin’ and stuff.”

  She didn’t interrupt as Riley made his own connections and conclusions. She knew this wouldn’t end his questions about his mother’s desertion. It wouldn’t completely take away the hurt, either, but at least he’d found a way to vent his hurt without taking a poke at Bobby. That was a positive sign.

  He picked up his glove and plucked at the laces again. “Fred doesn’t even have a big brother like Jason.”

  “Did Jason give you your baseball glove?”

  He nodded. “He gave it to me for my birthday. It’s better than the one Bobby has.”

  “Does he have a brother?”

  “Just a little one. Bobby says he’s a real little stinker. He gets into his stuff all the time.”

  “I bet he wishes he had a big brother like yours who could teach him how to play ball.”

  Riley’s tears had almost disappeared. “I guess so. Jason is cool sometimes, when he isn’t too crabby.” Then he tilted his head and eyed her. “I have a dad, a brother, a stepmom and a stepsister. That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” She let him absorb this thought before casually adding, “And soon you’ll have a new baby brother or sister. That’s another person to love.”

  “Yeah.” A frown settled amongst his freckles as he released her gaze and studied his glove. He shifted restlessly on the bed.

  Abby knew better than to expect a miracle but decided to give him something to think about. “This baby will be lucky to have you as a big brother.”

  His head came up again. “It will?”

  “You’ll be able to teach him or her to play baseball. Big brothers are important.”

  Riley didn’t look convinced. “Did your big brother teach you to play baseball, too?”

  “I didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “Not any?”

  “No.”

  “So you didn’t have to share your toys or your mom and dad with anyone else?” The note of envy was unmistakable.

  She shook her head. “I didn’t have a mom and dad, either.”

  The envy disappeared from the small boy’s face. His eyes grew wide with distress. “Didn’t anyone buy you presents or give you a birthday party, either?”

  To a kid, getting presents was almost as important as breathing. Abby didn’t want Riley to worry about something that happened a long time ago. “I didn’t have any birthday parties, but someone usually gave me a present for my birthday.” She put a finger on his freckled nose. “What would you like to do for your birthday next year?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe go to Benny’s again for pizza. That way, you and Dad won’t have to scrub the couch.”

  She struggled not to smile. “You can start thinking about it and let me know when the time gets closer.”

  “Okay.” He seemed unusually sober again.

  Pursing his lips, he got to his feet and scuffled around the room. Abby waited as he picked up a toy soldier, moved the arms, bent the head forward and set it down again. Then he flipped through a book, not actually looking at the pages. Finally, he turned and slid her a cautious glance. “Maybe it would be okay if I called you Mom? Just sometimes. Not always. It might be easier.”

  Her own tears were just a heartbeat away, but she willed them under control. “I’d be honored if you called me Mom anytime it feels right for you.”

  A smile as brilliant as the Fourth of July broke out across Riley’s face. “I think I might feel like doing it a lot—” he paused, then added “—Mom.”

  She rose to her feet and gave him a quick hug, brief and to the point. Just as quickly, and before he suffered too much embarrassment, she released him and headed for the door. When she reached the doorway, she looked back at him and waved a motherly finger at him. “And no more fights at school. Are we clear on that?”

  “Yes, Mom.” The statement accompanied a wide grin.

  Devlin removed himself from the doorway so Abby and Riley wouldn’t think he was spying on them.

  He’d finally gotten the message from Riley’s teacher and learned Abby had retrieved his son from school.

  Upon arriving home, he’d followed the trail of voices to Riley’s room.

  His urge to throttle Riley and ground him for the rest of the school year had dissipated as soon as he picked up the thread of discussion between Abby and Riley. What became immediately apparent to him was Abby’s intuitiveness about what was really bothering Riley.

  Not once had he associated Riley’s school shenanigans with Linda. Why hadn’t he realized that Riley might be questioning his real mother’s desertion?

  Riley had been a baby when Linda had left and they’d divorced. His youngest son only knew his mother from a few photos that Jason had sitting in his room. Devlin didn’t recall Riley asking why she didn’t send him presents for his birthday or why Linda left or if she was ever coming to visit.

  Or had he?

  Maybe Riley had been asking all along but Devlin didn’t recognize the question. How long had this been bothering Riley? Why hadn’t his son come to him?

  Abby rounded the corner into the living room. She stopped as she caught sight of him. “I didn’t realize you were home.”

  “I didn’t think it was a good idea to interrupt.”

  “So you heard?”

  He nodded. “I guess I should have realized he’d have questions about his mother.”

  He raked a hand through his hair, making deep ridges.

  Abby sat down on the edge of the large sofa as Devlin claimed the middle of the cushions. “I’m not sure Riley knew exactly what was bothering him. He only knew something didn’t feel right.”

  “He found a way to express it with you.”

  She shook her head. “It’s the baby. He’s afraid of being ignored or forgotten.”

  He frowned. “Is that what this is about?”

  She got to her feet and walked around the couch to stand behind him. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she began to massage the hard ridge of muscle.

  His body went on red alert beneath her fingertips, tensing and straining. He forgot to breathe. She stopped. “Does this bother you?”

  Yeah, it bothered him, all right. Everything about her bothered him. But not in the way she meant. He was fighting every basic urge known to man not to pull her over the edge of the sofa and sweep her into his arms. His body swam with desire, so hard, so needy, he wanted to sell his soul. “No, it feels good. You just surprised me.

  After a brief hesitation, she continued kneading his neck muscles. “How much contact has Riley had with his real mother?”

  “None.”

  His blunt response brought a momentary pause then she resumed. “I see.”

  He was beginning to
realize Abby saw a lot more than he ever did. “Thanks for talking to him. For not making excuses for his mother or destroying any fantasies, either. Linda doesn’t deserve any kind of motherhood awards. But someday...” He let his voice trail off.

  She finished the rest of his thought. “Someday she’s going to regret not knowing who her sons are and the boys will both have a lot of things to overcome before they can mend.”

  The muscles in his neck were absorbing and reveling in the magic of her touch. It would take a nuclear war to make him move from his spot. “Anyone ever tell you that you are a very smart woman, Abby Hamilton?”

  He felt her tremble.

  “I’m not sure that I’m any smarter than anyone else. But I learned a few lessons along the way.”

  “You know what it’s like to be without a parent. No one else could give him that kind of reassurance. Only you.”

  Devlin quit fighting his desires and went by pure instinct. He turned and pulled Abby around the edge of the couch and into his lap. She didn’t resist.

  The blue of her gaze deepened and met his. He didn’t hide his need. Using the pad of his finger against the satin of her skin, he caressed the creamy texture, watching a blush fan across the pale surface and spread to her neck. Moving downward, he found the sexy indentation of her dimple before moving over to trace the gentle curve of her mouth. He heard her breath quicken and saw her eyes dilate.

  Her tongue poked out and wet the surface on her mouth. “You don’t need to thank me. That’s part of my job.”

  He shook his head. “You could have grounded Riley. Threatened him with a week of bread and water—”

  “He might have preferred that to eggs every night.”

  He ignored her attempt to make light of her role in getting his son to unburden himself. “Or you could have sent him to his room and left him there to contemplate the error of his ways. You didn’t have to take the time to listen and discover what’s going on in his six-year-old head. It would have been easier to shut the door.”

  She worried the corner of her lip unconsciously. “Those things wouldn’t have solved anything. He still would have been hurting and he would have just acted out his frustrations again.”

  He stroked the corner of her lip where her teeth had left their mark. “You saved both of us a lot of aggravation and heartache.”

  “I’m here to make your life easier.” The honeyed warmth of her tone tugged at his insides, making each word ooze with sex appeal.

  “Easier” wasn’t what she was doing to his life, he thought as he contemplated her eyes turning into the color of Lake Michigan. The color had never intrigued him before. It did now.

  “Dad?”

  Riley’s voice in the doorway cut through Devlin’s self-absorption. Without taking his eyes from Abby, Devlin said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room studying?”

  “They don’t give us much homework in the first grade.”

  Devlin gestured toward the door. “Then find something else to do.”

  “Okay.” The eagerness in Riley’s voice seemed at odds with the request, but Devlin wasn’t about to question it. Right now, he wanted his son to leave the room so he could continue his contemplation of Abby.

  As Riley left, a dimple quirked in Abby’s cheek. “He sounded awfully happy. Maybe we should check--”

  “Let’s count our blessings.”

  “That seems wise.”

  “Abby?” Riley’s voice came through the doorway before he reappeared in the room.

  The groove in Abby’s cheek deepened at the sound of Riley’s voice. The suppressed merriment in her face invited Devlin to share the humor. “Yes, Riley?”

  “Do we have any bananas?”

  “I think there are some in the pantry.” She looked past Devlin’s shoulder to the boy. “Do you want me to cut one up for you?”

  “Nope. I can do it.”

  As soon as he left again, Abby turned to Devlin. “Do you suppose we should make sure he doesn’t cut his finger off?”

  He shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was worry about Riley. “I’ve hidden all the sharp knives.”

  “You are a wise father, Devlin Hamilton.”

  “I married you, didn’t I?”

  His teasing evoked a flush that worked up past the collar of her shirt and blossomed across her skin. He saw the way she tried to hold herself still, as if unaffected by his nearness. The slight tremble of her lips and the skittered pattern to her breathing told him the truth. She was as aware of him as he was of her.

  But how aware?

  He suddenly needed to know the answer. A quick taste of her lips would surely solve the mystery.

  Don’t be a fool, Hamilton. Remember what happened the last time, a voice inside his head warned.

  Heck, he remembered, all right. There wasn’t a moment that had passed since their wedding night when he didn’t remember. Maybe if he purged the memory from his mind, he could forget. The idea had merit. Now all he had to do was figure out what it would take to forget fireworks and passion so intense that it had stenciled itself permanently into his brain. A kiss might do it. Of course, it couldn’t be an ordinary one. But then he doubted any kiss with Abby could ever be classified as ordinary. Nope. It would have to be thoroughly transacted. Something to take the edge off his hunger once and for all.

  That’s all he’d take.

  Then he’d be satisfied. He could sleep again, and he wouldn’t be so damn hungry all the time.

  The longer he stared into her crystal-pool gaze, the more he was convinced he’d reached the only solution to his ongoing dilemma. The fact that she hadn’t moved away from him seemed to rubber-stamp the decision.

  Before he could question his conclusions, he lifted his hands to Abby’s face. Her startled jerk didn’t stop him as he cupped her jaw. Her hands came instinctively toward him. Whether to push him away or pull him to her, he didn’t know. It wouldn’t have mattered. They both needed to put their wedding night behind them. Surely she didn’t want this tension any more than he did. This kiss would extinguish the craziness and put them back on track.

  He had to believe that.

  Then logic deserted him.

  Like a starving man who had just stumbled onto a lush oasis, he followed his instincts and moved to quench his gut-wrenching thirst for her lips. A man couldn’t go without water for too many days. He needed a sip to replenish himself. That was all. He wouldn’t ask for more. Above all things he was a man of his word.

  “Abby,” he breathed just before he staked his claim.

  “Devlin.” His name sounded like a plea.

  His lips moved in and covered hers. He told himself that if he could just touch her, then it would be enough.

  Her hands fluttered against his chest, but when a growl of hunger rose from deep inside of him, any resistance she might have had evaporated as she grabbed a shirtful of cloth and clutched him closer to her.

  His dreams didn’t do her justice. Abby tasted sweeter and hotter than he remembered. The kiss didn’t pretend or flirt. It was blatantly honest. He gave. She answered and gave back with a generosity that was so perfectly Abby.

  How had he resisted this woman so long?

  Why had he tried?

  The simmering heat in his veins broke into flame. The woman was a powder keg. She didn’t flirt. She didn’t pretend to be coy. Or try to be cute. If she had been, he might have been cured of the fever burning in him. Instead, she seduced him with honesty and raw need. The desire within her hit him with a force he craved.

  Life began with the moment he took her in his arms. Time lost its beat and became unending.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Then he became aware of Abby’s hands suddenly coming between them.

  She tore her lips from him and the kiss came to an abrupt end. “Wait.” Her shoulders heaved as she gasped for air to replenish her lungs. “Aren’t we supposed to breathe or something?”

  “Not if we don’t have
to,” he growled, reaching for her again.

  Riley’s voice stopped him. “Dad, can I use your razor to shave my head?”

  ***

  CHAPTER 7

  Devlin, still reeling from the devastating impact of kissing Abby, had trouble translating Riley’s question.

  Jason, who had apparently arrived home from school without their hearing him, followed his younger brother into the room. “Why do you want to shave your head, squirt?”

  Riley shrugged. “You told me all the babes are hot for Michael Jordan because he shaved his head. If I shave mine, the babes will be hot for me.” He used his hand to flatten down his red curls. “What do you think?”

  “You look like a dork,” was his big brother’s response.

  Devlin noticed how hard Abby was working to hold back her laughter. “Babes?” he asked his oldest son.

  Jason hitched a thumb in his front pants pocket and shifted to a defensive posture. “It’s just guy talk. I can’t help it that he listens to my phone calls.”

  Devlin didn’t know what was harder to do. Regroup after kissing Abby or digest the knowledge that his six-year-old son was trying to attract babes. “That’s no excuse for referring to women as babes.”

  Jason produced a rude sound. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  He left the room before he received any more lectures.

  Riley looked at them with uncertainty. “Does this mean I can’t shave my head?”

  “That’s right. It also means you get to sweep the kitchen and pantry, plus do the dishes tonight since you were sent home early from school again.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “And the longer it takes you to get started, the more things I’ll add to the list.”

  Riley’s mouth clamped shut as he stomped out of the room before another word was said.

  He’d barely left, when Abby let go of her laughter. She laughed so hard, tears rolled down her face.

  Devlin pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her to wipe away her tears. “Would you believe Riley didn’t come with a warning label when he arrived in this world?”