Practice Makes Pregnant

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “Yes.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Allison,” he said softly.

  She looked genuinely confused. She should have stayed in Hollywood and become an actress, he thought, furious. She’s giving an Academy-Award-winning performance.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “No?” Jorge knew that he’d just discovered why Allison hadn’t contacted him. Her parents were rich and famous while he was the son of a blue-collar worker. Although he’d become a powerful man in Manhattan, his comfortable wealth and position were self-made, while Allison had been born into wealth in a talented, famous family. He’d encountered social snobbery before, but it hadn’t occurred to him that prejudice was a possibility with Allison.

  “Jorge, I know that our night together was a one-night aberration for you.”

  He blinked slowly, trying to follow her reasoning. “An aberration?”

  “Of course. I read the newspaper society columns on occasion. I’m well aware that I’m not the sort of woman you normally date.”

  “Really?” He looked her swiftly up and down and shook his head, baffled.

  She pushed nervous fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear before clasping her hands tightly together at her waist. “I know that I shouldn’t have left the room that morning without saying goodbye. I certainly understand that you expected to hear from me, and that you’re no doubt curious as to why I failed to contact you, but you needn’t worry. I don’t plan to pursue you.”

  “You don’t?” Why the hell not?

  “No. Let me assure you that I don’t expect anything further from you.”

  Jorge drew a deep breath and forced his fingers to unclench. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said through his teeth, struggling to control the urge to grab her and shake her until her cool reserve shattered and the laughing, open woman he’d met on the terrace emerged.

  “I want you to know that I understand our worlds are very different. That’s why I didn’t get in touch after…” She paused, her gaze chasing away from his before she drew a deep breath, lifted her chin and looked directly at him once more. “After we spent the night together. And why I didn’t stay around that morning to discuss it.”

  Before Jorge could respond, the intercom on her desk buzzed. She tapped the button on her phone, and a disembodied voice spoke.

  “Eloise asked me to remind you that they’re waiting for you in the conference room, Allison. The meeting with the city budget people, remember?”

  “Thank you, Leah. Please tell her that I’m on my way.”

  She flicked off the intercom, glancing at Jorge as she bent to open a drawer and extract a file. “I’m sorry, Jorge, but I have to go to this meeting.” She tucked the file under one arm, picked up a pen and rounded the desk to walk toward him. “Thank you for dropping by,” she said politely, holding out her hand. “It was nice to see you.”

  Jorge took her hand, the soft touch of her skin against his creating an instant vision of all of her, naked, pressed against the length of him. Under him. Holding her gaze with his, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her warm palm, lingering when her eyes widened.

  She froze, then tugged on her hand until he reluctantly released her.

  “I, um…” she paused, cleared her throat before continuing. “Have a nice day.”

  He smiled. She was clearly flustered, her cool reserve in tatters from the touch of his lips against her palm. He reached past her, his arm brushing her sleeve, and pulled open the door. He didn’t miss the slight, startled jerk of her body as they touched, and though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, he decided to let her flee. This time.

  “You too, Allison.” Her wide gaze met his, questioning. “Have a good day.”

  “Oh. Yes. I will. Goodbye.” She turned, hurrying out of the office and down the hall away from him.

  It’s not goodbye, sweetheart, not by a long shot. He watched her slim back, the skirt of her suit reaching a decorous two inches below her knees. It should be illegal to cover up those legs. The memory of kissing the backs of her knees before his lips moved higher haunted him, and was just as vivid now as it had been the day after that long, unforgettable night. He watched her until she disappeared through a door at the end of the hall. Then he turned and left the office complex, frustrated, impatient and so preoccupied with analyzing their conversation during those few moments in Allison’s office that he didn’t respond when Leah said goodbye.

  Allison couldn’t focus on the meeting.

  She kept seeing Jorge, his polite words the complete opposite of the heat and anger churning in his dark eyes. Unsure of him and terrified that he’d somehow learned, or would learn, about her pregnancy, she’d drawn her customary cloak of cool reserve around her like a defense shield and taken refuge behind it.

  Why had he come to her office?

  How had he found her?

  Why had he bothered to do either?

  The questions had baffled her until she realized it was likely she was the first woman who hadn’t pursued him after spending the night in his bed. When she assumed that his visit to her was quite possibly generated by curiosity, she’d tried to reassure him that she accepted theirs was a one-night-only event.

  Strangely enough, he hadn’t seemed relieved. In fact, he looked downright furious. And he’d seemed angry when he recognized her parents in the photos on the office wall.

  In fact, now that she was less rattled and more able to sanely consider their whole conversation, he’d seemed angry the entire time, although his words were polite enough.

  She rubbed her right temple where a headache was growing steadily stronger.

  “What do you think, Allison?”

  Yanked back to the present, Allison focused on a line chart propped on the easel standing at the far end of the long table. The accountant was pointing to the third column and looking at her expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Could you go over it again, please?”

  The accountant barely managed to conceal his annoyance, but he moved to the first column and began to repeat his explanation.

  Allison determinedly focused on his words, refusing to let Jorge, the baby and what she was going to do about both of those impossible subjects, distract her again.

  Later that night, despite an exhausting day that required working late to complete legal research, Jorge lay awake, his hands stacked beneath his head, staring at the ceiling above his rumpled bed.

  The scene with Allison kept playing over and over in his mind. The intuition that made him so formidable in the courtroom was telling him that something about their conversation wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what was wrong.

  It could simply be that the laughing Allison in the black lace evening gown seemed to be the complete opposite of the sober Allison in the conservative suit. He wondered briefly if there was any likelihood that she might have a twin, but quickly discounted the possibility. His body recognized hers; she smelled the same; she felt the same when he took her hand in his. No, the passionate woman in his bed that night and the wary, reserved woman he’d seen today were definitely the same woman.

  But why had this Allison felt the need to hide the other Allison? What had caused the wariness and fear in her amber eyes?

  Angry though she’d made him, he was determined to find answers to his questions.

  She may not expect anything from me, he thought grimly, but I damn sure expect something from her.

  He knew part of what he wanted from her was another night in her bed. If there was anything else driving his intense interest in the beautiful redhead, he refused to admit it. His work schedule would keep him out of town for the next few days, but when he returned, he planned to change her mind. He fell asleep plotting a campaign to woo the elusive Allison.

  Across town Allison was having her own difficulty sleeping. She’d had to force the words out when she told Jorge that s
he didn’t want anything more from him. Every instinct was screaming no as she’d said the words.

  What would he say, what would he do, if he knew that their one incredible night of making love had created a child? Would he be pleased that he was going to be a father?

  Not likely, she admitted bleakly. It was far more likely that he’d be annoyed and irritated that his fast-paced lifestyle was being interrupted by her pregnancy. Or worse yet, what if he demanded that she get rid of the baby?

  Allison knew that she didn’t know Jorge well enough to make such an assumption, but she couldn’t escape the nagging concern. Like her father, Jorge Perez was a powerful man with a great deal of influence.

  He scares me, she admitted. Her hands lay folded over her midsection, and she patted her tummy consolingly. It’s okay, little baby. Mama won’t let anything happen to you.

  She drifted off to sleep, unconsciously cradling the tiny new life beneath her palms.

  The baby she carried was making its presence felt in a very big way. Her body was increasingly affected by the little one growing within her. After showering on Saturday morning, she realized that she was having difficulty fastening her bra. She twisted and struggled to hook the back closure, then stood in front of the bedroom mirror, naked but for the powder-blue lace bra, and frowned at her reflection.

  Her bra was too small. She turned sideways to see the hooks straining the elastic fabric below her shoulderblades, then faced the mirror again. Her breasts were fuller, overflowing the bra cups, the nipples sensitive to the chafe of silk and lace.

  She turned sideways once again and smoothed a hand over her still-flat abdomen.

  At least I’m not showing here.

  With quick decision, she put aside her earlier plans to spend the morning doing homework for her Tuesday-night class in domestic law. Instead, she pulled on panties, jeans, a loose-knit top, and sat on the edge of the bed to tug on her boots. Then she grabbed her purse and jacket and left the apartment for a much-needed shopping trip. Fortunately for Allison, Zoe was out of town for two weeks, visiting her parents and married sister in upstate New York, otherwise, she would undoubtedly have noticed Allison’s preoccupation and demanded to know what was bothering her. Allison knew that she couldn’t fool Zoe for long and doubted that she’d even try. Her friend had the skills of a trained inquisitor.

  At work on Monday, Allison decided wearing comfortable bras was an enormous help, but she was struggling with yet another side effect of her pregnancy. The urge to take a nap after lunch was overwhelming. She was so tired that she was tempted to lock her door, curl up on the comfortable carpet and fall asleep. And her normal, average appetite was suddenly enormous. Instead of downing a cup of yogurt and a banana while working at her desk, she found herself ordering in take-out from the Thai restaurant down the block. Not just one entrée, but two or three, with a side order of sticky rice.

  She’d always loved Thai food, but this was ridiculous.

  If she kept this up, she was going to gain a hundred pounds before the baby was born she thought, eyeing the four cardboard containers lined up on her desk. Not to mention the fact that somebody was going to start wondering why she was suddenly eating so much food. She frowned and popped a bite of chicken with peanut sauce into her mouth, chewing slowly as she contemplated the possibility. Leah gave her a very funny look when the delivery boy arrived with the food. Maybe Leah suspected?

  If anyone might guess, it was Leah. Allison vividly remembered shuddering as she watched the petite receptionist spread sour pickles with peanut butter before eating them. She’d been genuinely concerned about what the odd combination might do to Leah’s stomach before the receptionist had reassured her that her obstetrician had told her that strange cravings were perfectly normal during a pregnancy.

  Allison sat bolt upright in her chair, her hand holding chopsticks clutching sticky rice, bean sprouts and shrimp, frozen in midair.

  Obstetrician? Ohmigod. I don’t have an obstetrician!

  She dropped the chopsticks into one of the containers and pulled open a desk drawer to reach for her phone book.

  She flipped through the yellow pages until she reached the physicians section with its listing of specialties, running her forefinger down the listings until she reached the name she was searching for. She circled the doctor’s name and phone number, then dialed.

  Several moments later she had an appointment. Unfortunately, it was a whole week away and she’d really wanted to have an exam sooner. The prenatal care book that she’d bought over the weekend stressed the importance of early monitoring by a physician.

  And vitamins, she thought. She should be taking vitamins. She glanced at the half-empty containers of Thai food and frowned. Maybe she shouldn’t be eating spicy food. She’d read that section of the book tonight.

  In the meantime, though, she knew that she could do something about the vitamin issue. She wouldn’t have a prescription for prenatal vitamins until after the first visit with her doctor. But the Manhattan Multiples’ exam rooms were all stocked with vitamins, it was one of the many benefits provided to clients, so there was no reason she couldn’t start taking them immediately.

  She’d borrow a bottle. And return it when she got her prescription filled.

  Later that afternoon, she visited one of the examination rooms, quickly searched a cabinet, located a bottle of the mega-size vitamins, and tucked it into the white paper bag with the Thai restaurant logo printed prominently on both sides.

  She pulled open the door to the hallway and looked out, relieved to find the hall empty. In her haste to exit, she bumped the heavy plastic, bag-covered bottle against the metal trash can just inside the door.

  The clattering of the metal can sounded as loud as an explosion to her sensitive ears. Swiftly, she pulled the door shut and hurried off down the hall, barely drawing breath until she was safely back in her office and the bottle of vitamins tucked into the bottom of her purse.

  I’m not cut out for all this sneaking around. She blotted the perspiration from her upper lip and tossed the tissue into the wastebasket beneath her desk. She would have made a really incompetent spy.

  Allison glanced at the to-do list in her dayplanner, tucked it back into her purse, and dialed the phone. Moments later her yoga class was successfully switched to a prenatal group at an earlier time.

  Satisfied that she’d accomplished as much as possible on her pregnancy to-do list, she pulled up the data file for the new security company and spent the next hour modifying the contract to meet the strict requirements Eloise had requested.

  At last, satisfied with the wording, she hit the print button and waited for the printer to spit out the clean pages. Then she gathered them into a folder, paper clipped the appropriate signature lines and left her office.

  Eloise’s office door was partially ajar, and Allison could hear her talking, although she couldn’t make out the words. She paused a moment before knocking, but didn’t hear a response so, hoping that she wasn’t interrupting Eloise and a client, tapped softly on the door panel.

  “Yes?”

  Eloise’s voice was distracted, slightly impatient.

  Allison pushed open the door and stepped inside, glancing around the room. Eloise was alone, sitting behind her desk, a pencil tucked behind her ear and a frown on her face.

  “Come in, Allison.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.” Allison glanced quickly around the room as she crossed the carpeted floor and dropped into one of two elegant chairs facing the desk, but she saw no one other than Eloise. “I thought I heard voices, were you talking to someone?”

  Eloise made a face and gestured at her computer screen. “I was ranting at my computer. I’m trying to write an anonymous letter to the editor, protesting the mayor’s position on budget cuts, and it isn’t going well.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, tousling the normally neat locks, and glared at the computer again.

  “Is there anything I can do
to help?” Allison asked, well aware that Eloise was worried about the mayor’s proposed budget cuts and how they would affect the funding for Manhattan Multiples’ operating expenses.

  “You can read what I’ve written so far and give me your opinion.” Eloise hit the print button, and the machine hummed, then spat out a copy. “Here it is—be honest.” She held out the two-page letter.

  Silence reigned for the few moments it took for Allison to read the pages. She reread two of the paragraphs before she looked up.

  “Well?” Eloise asked.

  “I think you’ve stated the case for keeping budget funding in place for women’s and children’s programs very well—brilliantly, in fact.”

  “But…?”

  “But a couple of the paragraphs sound a bit too personal.”

  “Personal?” Eloise bristled, looking decidedly startled.

  “Yes. Especially the paragraph accusing the mayor of choosing financial interests over the welfare of children and pregnant women.”

  “But that’s exactly what he’s doing!”

  “Perhaps.” Allison searched for a way to make Eloise understand her view.

  “This is a political issue, not a personal one.” Eloise continued adamantly, “Bill Harper is using his position as mayor of New York City to destroy Manhattan Multiples, all in the name of capitalism. It’s unconscionable.”

  “I’m not saying that you’re wrong about him, only that the wording in your letter sounds a bit as if you feel that the mayor is attacking you personally.” Allison privately thought that Eloise was taking her disagreement with the mayor’s position very personally. And that was unlike the levelheaded, business-wise Eloise. In fact, it was unlike Eloise to be so passionately argumentative about any issue.

  “Show me which paragraphs.”

  Allison leaned forward, pointing out the paragraphs on her copy. Eloise frowned and turned back to her computer screen, quickly scrolling down to the offending sentences.