And Baby Makes Six

by Pamela Dalton

  “Apparently, Congress hasn’t tackled that regulation yet.” She dabbed her eyes and returned his handkerchief. “He’s a normal, curious six-year-old.”

  “Is he? I don’t remember Jason ever being quite so precocious.”

  “Maybe he was just better at hiding it or working things out for himself.”

  “Maybe.”

  She touched his arm. “Riley’s curious about relationships. His curiosity isn’t wrong. He’s just trying to understand and find his own place.” She removed her hand from his skin and stood up. “Would you really want him to be any different?”

  “Not for one moment,” he answered without hesitation.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  After she left the room, it wasn’t the peculiarities behind Riley’s precocious behavior that had Devlin in a tailspin. It was the questions and possible directions he could take in furthering his own relationship with his new wife that kept him sitting on the couch for another thirty minutes.

  The kiss hadn’t removed the memory of their wedding night. Instead, it had lit a new wick of desire. Fanned the need into a rampaging fire.

  If he thought he wanted Abby before, it was nothing like the way he wanted her now.

  Why in the heck had he ever signed that bloody contract?

  Abby closed the door of Devlin’s office behind her and sagged against the smooth wood panel. Her heart was still carrying on as if she’d just outrun a jaguar in the wilds of Africa. Perhaps she’d escaped from an animal twice as deadly.

  Devlin?

  No. It was her. One Abigail O’Reilly Hamilton.

  She was a wild woman on the loose. Out of control. Driven by instincts she didn’t even realize she had. Poor Devlin never had a chance. All he’d had to do was look in her direction and she’d thrown herself at him. What had he thought?

  A mock headline flashed through her head. Abby of the Jungle Attacks Spouse. She shuddered and squeezed her eyes closed.

  Why?

  How could it have happened? She had always kept her feet on the ground and her emotions under control. She’d known better than to believe in fairy dust and pots of gold at the other end of the rainbow. Her only mistake with her former husband had been to turn over her financial security to him. That had been stupid and she’d paid the price. Learned her lesson, too, or so she thought.

  Maybe her hormones were out of whack. Pregnant women did have unusual cravings. Pickles and ice cream. Herring. Food was a logical obsession for a woman who would soon be the unapologetic size of a boatyard. Yet, she wasn’t even tempted to raid the refrigerator in the middle of the night.

  No, her obsession had sexy, green eyes that could make a woman forget all the lessons she’d learned. Both a peculiar desire and one that was all too ridiculous for a woman like her. She’d been married once before. There was no reason for stars to be in her eyes.

  There had to be something wrong.

  The doctor, however, had assured her that everything about this pregnancy was normal. Of course, she hadn’t told him about her unusual cravings and her outrageous addictions. He’d think she was nuts.

  What woman became tormented by desires for her husband?

  No one that she ever knew.

  Maybe there was something in the water up here in Wisconsin. Too much lead. Or iron. Or maybe her bra was too tight and had cut off circulation to key brain cells.

  She shouldn’t be so conscious of the way Devlin’s clothes clung to his well-defined frame. Her gaze shouldn’t be tracking his confident, long strides from across the room. And she certainly shouldn’t be so intrigued by the cheek-to-cheek motion of his butt, for crying out loud. No, there’d been no way to bring this to the doctor’s attention. Besides, how would you treat something like that? Was there a vitamin that could delete sexual fantasies?

  No, probably not. Vitamins usually added something to one’s support system. She needed some kind of dilution device. Perhaps she needed a laxative. Was there such a thing as an ex-sex laxative?

  And even if there was, did she want it?

  You’re off your rocker, Abby, my girl.

  PMS sidelined some women every month, but that malady never had made much of an impression on her moods. And except for that brief bout of morning sickness—which had thankfully disappeared—she’d hadn’t had any problems with her pregnancy. All the signs were positive.

  So why did she love to be in Devlin’s office where his presence was stamped on everything from the basic file cabinet to the paper-peppered desk?

  Pregnant and in heat. That’s what she was. Perhaps she should go see a veterinarian instead.

  Did Devlin suspect he’d married a madwoman? Given the way he hightailed it out of the house every evening to his workshop in the shed, she had the sinking feeling he probably did. The poor man probably feared she’d attack with lust or something.

  Was she sending out waves?

  She couldn’t see her husband being scared of any woman. But maybe he’d suspected she was on the edge of becoming a clinging ninny. Is that what this was about? Maybe she was being too clingy. Maybe those old wants—intense desires to belong and to have what everyone else seemed to have and she didn’t—were raising their jealous heads.

  She’d have to deal with them. Batten them down so they didn’t open up and expose her as desperate or weak. She knew what was expected of her. She had it in black and white. There was no question about her responsibilities, her duties or Devlin’s expectations of her.

  Abby sighed and opened her eyes just a crack and squinted at the file cabinet across the room. She should forget about her hiatus from sanity and get down to work. Adding figures was a good way to bring her hormones back in line.

  It was a good device to help her stop thinking about Devlin and the kiss.

  She could go through the invoices and write out the checks. They’d received the bonus for the project Devlin had finished several weeks ago and she needed to pay their subcontractors.

  However, instead of pulling the business files from their respective drawers in the metal cabinet, she rifled through the manila folders and found the one headed Marriage Contract.

  Slipping it free, she dragged out the contract she and Devlin had signed months ago. Scanning the official-looking contents, she muttered aloud the words that she already knew by heart. Nothing seemed any different. The ending statement read: We agree to abide by this contract, unless one or both parties decides to terminate said marriage.

  At the time they signed it, she thought they’d covered everything they’d face. Now she knew differently. They hadn’t addressed insanity, lust or obsessions.

  Something that would explain the skittering of her nerves and lapse of control whenever Devlin was nearby. Something that would interpret the short circuitry of her common sense, defining why a calm and practical woman like her would toss aside every scrap of hard earned knowledge and indulge in behavior totally foreign to her.

  What possible explanation could there be?

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough things to occupy her time. Boredom wasn’t a part of her day. Doing the laundry for an active family of five wasn’t any small feat. When Devlin came home from work, he donned a clean set of clothes after he showered. Jason, who played intramural basketball several times a week, also went through several changes of clothes a day. Whatever activities Riley and Paige participated in determined the state of their wardrobes, and Abby could usually count on tackling several stubborn stains per day generated by two children of that age. Those clothes, plus towels and bedding, meant she did two to three loads of wash every other day.

  Then there was the cooking, the cleaning and the bookwork. Trying to stay on top of these duties, and the natural tiredness that went along with being pregnant made her well and truly tired by the time she crawled into bed each night.

  She knew it wasn’t idle hands that could account for her unnatural behavior.

  While she’d never had much affection during the
early years of her life—many times being quite lonely, in fact—all that loneliness had skedaddled the first time she held Paige in her arms. The overwhelming love for her daughter had filled all the empty places. Paige, a natural hugger, was as cuddly as cuddly could be.

  Now there was Riley, who wanted to call her mother. Jason, who liked to pretend he didn’t need her, but probably needed her the most.

  And then there was the baby.

  “Abby?”

  She hadn’t heard the door open but recognized the concern in Devlin’s voice.

  “It’s the pregnancy,” she blurted out before he could venture into the room.

  He didn’t come any farther into the room. “Pregnancy?”

  “It’s my hormones. They’re out of whack.”

  His eyebrow lifted.

  She couldn’t think straight when his eyes turned that concerned shade of green. He probably was wondering if she’d need a straitjacket next. She rushed on, letting her tongue take the driver’s seat while her brain sluggishly tried to catch up. “Some women crave pickles and ice cream. Others crave herring or liver. I, on the other hand, crave—” She stopped. Without having to look in a mirror, she knew a wave of ugly red had flooded her cheeks.

  The devilish humor sprinting across Devlin’s face made her shut her mouth with a snap.

  “You were saying . . .?” he encouraged with a silky edge to his tone.

  The feeling that she’d just made an absolute fool of herself provided the bracing she needed. She lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I was thinking aloud. Did you need something?”

  He waited a second or two for her to continue. When she didn’t, he finally said, “Rebecca Castner called and invited us to their house on Friday night to get together and play games. Would that be okay with you?”

  “What about the kids?”

  “My mother has offered to take them for the weekend. They’ve been begging to show off their new granddaughter to their friends. It’s a chance for them to spoil the kids when we’re not looking.”

  Abby tried to think. If they were going to be alone for the weekend, she’d need a safe diversion. Getting together with the Castners seemed to be the ideal solution. “I’m not much of a game player.”

  “Neither am I.” A killer smile of satisfaction gleamed at her. “That should be reassuring for both of us.”

  Reassurance was the last thing that Abby felt after Devlin left the room.

  Later that night, Devlin sat in front of the big-screen television set without really seeing the play-by-play action of the basketball game.

  Abby had been in his office for the past two hours, scrunched over the computer, logging numbers and muttering to herself. He’d tried to do some work, but having her nearby was a distraction. Time and time again, he’d find his gaze feasting on the creamy whiteness of her skin, the soft curl draped delicately behind the curve of her ear and the way she chewed absently on the fullness of her lip. He was continually fighting the urge to cross the room and drag her into his arms. The sweet memories of their wedding night tormented him more and more each day.

  Then there was that kiss.

  Sweet heaven, how was a man supposed to keep sane with that woman claiming every square inch of the house and his brain?

  Not even the seesawing basketball game between the Bucks and Bulls could keep his mind off his wife. It seemed as if Abby’s image filled his head whether he was swinging a hammer, measuring floor space or trying to sleep.

  “Dad?”

  From the impatient edge to Jason’s voice, Devlin realized his son had been trying to get his attention.

  Devlin straightened and pushed his fingers through his already mussed hair. “Sorry. Did you want to watch something different on TV? Go ahead and change the channel. This game isn’t too exciting.”

  “And the Bucks have just reclaimed the lead with fourteen seconds left in the half,” the announcer proclaimed against the backdrop of screaming fans.

  Jason’s curious gaze flicked from the television to Devlin. “You feeling okay, Dad?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Devlin grabbed the remote and turned off the set. “So what’s up?”

  Grabbing a throw pillow, his son slouched down into the big easy chair. “I thought we might talk.” Then he lapsed into silence.

  Devlin waited for Jason to continue and when he didn’t, he searched for a logical explanation, something to help his son unload what was bottling up his mind. “Problems in school?”

  “No.”

  “Everything okay with your friends?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jason wasn’t a talkative sort of kid. Never had been. In the past, however, his son had never had a problem telling him what was bothering him. Then it occurred to him this might be a matter of a more sensitive nature. “Did you want to talk about girls?”

  Jason wrinkled his nose. “Girls?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Damn, the kid wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “I know how it is when you’re this age. Guys have certain questions about . . . well, about the birds and the bees. It’s okay, you can ask me about anything.”

  Jason snorted rudely. “Dad, I don’t want to talk about sex.”

  “You don’t?” He let the relief swim through him.

  “We already learned all that stuff in school years ago.”

  Devlin wondered if his oldest son didn’t know more on the subject than he’d like him to know. He decided not to ask. “So what’s going on?”

  His son leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “How come you and Abby don’t sleep together?”

  Of all the questions Devlin considered his son might ask, this wasn’t the one. In fact, it wasn’t even on his list. The query left Devlin floundering for an explanation. “Paige isn’t ready to move into her room yet.”

  Jason’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Paige has been sleeping in her room for almost a week.”

  Devlin hadn’t realized that. Abby had never mentioned it, but then, why should she? “We wanted to make sure Paige was comfortable with her room first.”

  Jason was watching him closely, and Devlin could tell his son didn’t believe his lame answer. Finally Jason said, “There’s nothing wrong, is there? She’s not much of a cook, but Abby’s okay. You’re not going to get a divorce or kick her out for some reason, are you?”

  “What the hell—”

  Before he could vent his anger and tell his son in no uncertain terms what he thought of his suggestion, Jason blurted out, “Dad, Abby needs us.”

  Devlin’s anger left as fast as it had flared. “Why do you think that?”

  “She gave up her one and only James Dean picture because she said she has us now.”

  “And you’re afraid she might want the picture back if she leaves?” He didn’t like to think his son was that selfish, but he didn’t have a clue where this conversation was headed.

  Jason scowled at him. “It’s just a picture. I mean, to me it’s just a picture. But to Abby, that’s all she had when she was a kid. At least when Mom left, we still had each other. You, me and Riley. But Abby didn’t have anybody when she was my age, she just had a picture of James Dean. Of course, she’s got Paige now. But listening to Big Bird and Barbie talk all day gets pretty boring, you know what I mean?”

  For a kid of few words, his son suddenly had a lot to say. Devlin settled deeper into the couch. Just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood, he asked his question carefully, “So you want Abby and Paige to stay?”

  Jason shrugged and flipped the lever of the recliner so his feet shot straight out. Anchoring his hands behind his head, he pretended to be indifferent. Only the wiggling of his foot gave him away. “It doesn’t really matter to me. I’ll be out of here in a few years. But I think Riley might need someone to keep an eye on him while you’re working.”

  “You think so?”

  “I can’t watch over him forever, you know.”

  “Is that what you thought I expec
ted?”

  Jason lifted his shoulders again. “It’s not a big deal. He’s okay. So is Paige. She sometimes needs a guy around to help tie her shoes and stuff.”

  “And the baby?”

  Jason pretended to study his feet. “I suppose it will cry a lot.”

  “Sometimes babies do.”

  A familiar brooding expression descended upon his son’s face as he contemplated his shoelaces and tinkered with the loops. “I can always get some new headphones. That might make it easier. Then it wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “Possibly.” Devlin averted his eyes so Jason couldn’t see the laughter lurking just below the surface. He’d hoped that Jason would come around someday, but he hadn’t dared hoped for a breakthrough so soon.

  He wondered what Abby had done to trigger the change and make Jason become protective of her. He doubted that had even been her intention, but whatever she’d said to him, it had worked.

  Jason didn’t linger after that. Apparently, he’d gotten everything off his chest and could retreat with a clear conscience.

  Devlin wished he could be as easily placated.

  He admired Abby’s way of dealing with Jason. She’d coaxed him out of his room to help with the meals, plus she’d broken down the wall of resistance the boy had erected between himself and the family.

  Yet, her method of reaching Jason had been to trade a possession she’d kept with her for years. James Dean. She might not have needed the picture, but did that mean she was committed to staying? Or was it just the price she had to pay in order to entice Jason out of his room and into the kitchen?

  If only he knew how he could coax Abby to forget about the contract and the money she thought she owed him.

  So far, nothing in the terms they’d drawn up had netted him any satisfaction. If anything, he couldn’t be more dissatisfied than he already was.

  He knew his attraction wasn’t one-sided. Abby had responded to the kiss, putting heart and soul into the mating of their lips. But that didn’t mean she would easily turn her back on the contract they’d signed.