Deja You

by Sandoval, Lynda

  “Then why me?” he whispered.

  There were no words. No reasonable explanation. Instead, she stretched up and kissed his lips softly, which felt strange, foreign, but not horrible. He tasted good, like mint and man. Safe. When he didn’t protest, she deepened the kiss, venturing some exploration with her tongue, nibbling at his bottom lip.

  He groaned. Obviously tried not to, but it escaped anyway, and he kissed her back. For several long moments, they simply explored each other’s mouths. His hands moved up to cup her face gently, and an unexpected storm of desire ripped through her. Wait. This was supposed to be a first step, nothing more.

  Yet, it seemed she truly wanted this man.

  How could that be?

  He wasn’t Kevin, but she ached for him. She yearned to feel Nate’s weight on top of her, him pushing into her. Her body throbbed. She knew he wasn’t comfortable with this, but he just had to—

  “Please,” she whispered, moist and warm against his lips.

  He pulled back, studied her face. “Why can’t you get pregnant?”

  “An injury,” she hedged.

  “That’s rough.”

  “I don’t care.” She leaned in to kiss him again, this time brazenly spreading her palms on his chest.

  “Erin,” he breathed against her mouth between kisses. “I don’t do this kind of thing. For the record.”

  “Neither do I. For the record. So let’s do it together and call it a friendly aberration.”

  After hesitation, he eased her back on the pillows and started to pull up her T-shirt.

  She sucked in a breath, holding it down. “W-wait.”

  His eyes glittered with scorn. “Let me guess. Second thoughts already?”

  “No. No. But, can I…can I leave it on?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

  “It’s just been so long.”

  He studied her, the uncertainty clear in his gaze.

  Afraid he’d call it off, she guided his hand down to her bikini underwear instead, urging his fingers inside, though it was excruciatingly difficult to be so brazen.

  He caressed her, closing his eyes as he sucked in a breath. “You’re so wet.”

  “I want this, Nate,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as she tried to convince him. “I want you. Can’t you see? Feel?”

  He slipped one finger inside her—an utter surprise. She gasped, bucking instinctively to deepen the connection. The force of her desire floored her.

  His breaths coming quicker now, he eased his finger out of her body, then slid her underwear down her legs.

  She kicked them off. Shy, but wanting to take this step, she opened her legs for him, watching as he removed the sweatpants he’d worn to bed.

  Oh, he clearly wanted her, too.

  The sight of him quickened her pulse. The dull throb intensified at her center. She reached for him, wanting to feel his length in her hand. Instead, he pressed his body against hers, holding off some of his weight with his elbows.

  “Tell me you’re sure about this.”

  Not at all. “I’m sure.”

  “Tell me we’re not making a mistake.”

  Who could say? “We’re not.”

  “I am safe, Erin,” he reassured. “I’m a good guy. I’d never put you into a bad situation.”

  She squirmed against him. “If I had any doubt whatsoever, we wouldn’t be here like this, trust me. I just…please.”

  “Please what?”

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered shyly.

  He leaned his forehead against hers, their gazes locked. “It makes no sense, but I want it, too. Even if I don’t understand your reasoning. Or mine. I don’t know you, but I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

  A rubber band of guilt snapped against her skin. His genuineness stung. Obviously, what he felt for her was mere lust. They’d only just met. But his wanting was sincere. Hers was simply that first step toward getting her life back. Wasn’t it?

  Regardless, tomorrow they’d go their separate ways, each having gotten what they needed, so what did it matter?

  She rubbed against his hardness. “Make love to me.”

  “If you don’t stop that, there’s no going back.”

  “I don’t want to go back.” She reached down between their bodies and wrapped her palm around him, guiding the tip of his penis toward the throb that had intensified to the point that it didn’t seem to want to stop. “Now.”

  “Erin.”

  “Now.”

  Gently, but firmly, he pushed into her. Deeply, all the way. For a moment, they stayed locked that way, and he closed his eyes. “God, you feel incredible.”

  “It’s been a long time.”

  “I’ll be gentle.”

  Some feral part of her quaked. “Don’t. Please. I don’t want gentle. Not tonight.”

  She felt his pulse quicken inside her as he stared into her eyes, and then he did her bidding.

  Hard. Fast. Deep. Thorough.

  Nate proved to be an amazing lover. He caressed her breasts to aching points through the shirt and never complained that she wouldn’t fully undress. He awakened her body in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

  Fear quivered inside her. Why did it feel as though this was turning into more than she’d bargained for?

  Pushing away her alarm, Erin gave herself over to the sensations, rising to meet his thrusts, wanting more, more, more. She felt like the first crocus bloom, bursting through the graying snow after an extended, cold winter.

  Silent tears crept out the sides of her eyes, rolling down to tickle her ears. She wanted to believe it was because of Kevin, and partly it was. He was no longer her only, and that saddened her to the depths of her soul.

  But she also knew she was going to creep out of this room the moment Nate succumbed to sleep, leaving no trace. She would never see him again, and somehow, that cracked the only part of her heart that hadn’t already been shattered.

  She cried out with her explosive climax, wrapping her legs around Nate’s waist and reveling in the feeling of his pulsing release inside her.

  “Are you okay?” he gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not at all.” She stretched up to kiss him.

  “Good.” He kissed her back, passionately. “Good.” A pause. “Erin. Honey, I—”

  “Shh.” She laid a finger across his lips. “Let’s not ruin it with words. Let it be what it is, okay? Be in the moment.”

  He settled on top of her, both of them panting, and a part of her wanted to pull him close and keep him there. Inside her. Around her. On top of her. Forever.

  She hadn’t expected that.

  Dear God, she hadn’t expected Nate.

  Morning’s golden glow shone through his eyelids, awakening him. His mind moved to last night, and a slow smile spread his lips. His body felt spent, his mind soothed. He opened his eyes and let them adjust to the brightness of the new day, then he turned over to greet—

  But, she wasn’t there.

  He pulled the covers back and sat up. “Erin?”

  No answer.

  Standing, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned as he walked toward the bathroom. Empty. Only when he turned back toward the disheveled bed did he notice the note scribbled on a hotel notepad.

  Please understand. He stood frozen, staring at it, pulse pounding in his temples. He should’ve known. Should’ve been prepared for this. So why did it hurt so damn much? Crossing to the bed, Nate sat, and picked up the only bit of Erin he had left.

  A goodbye.

  Chapter 5

  Two months later…

  “Mystery solved,” the doctor said, as she entered her office bearing a file. “You’re pregnant.”

  Erin gaped at her longtime doctor, the incomprehensible announcement ringing in her ears. “But, I can’t be. I came in with the flu.”

  Dr. Kipfer laughed. Rounding the expansive cherrywood d
esk, she tossed the file down onto her blotter and sat. “Actually, you came in confused. That flu you have? We in the biz refer to it as morning sickness.” She winked.

  Erin’s heart drummed. She shook her head. “No. It’s impossible.”

  The doctor frowned, perplexed. “Do you mean you haven’t had sex? False positives can happen.”

  Erin’s skin flamed. “No, well, I…not that. But, I’m not able to get pregnant. Because of the burns.”

  The doc steepled her hands on her desk and lowered her chin. “Who told you that? The burn treatment center?”

  Erin felt more stupid by the moment. “Um, no, actually.” She laid a palm on her still-flat tummy that somehow felt different now. “To be honest, I just assumed. You’ve seen my scarring.”

  “Scars on the skin don’t always translate to organ damage. Clearly, in your case, your organs are fine.”

  “Oh.” Pregnant. Holy hell. She gulped. “How, um…how far along am I?”

  As if she didn’t know.

  She knew the exact night, practically the exact moment she’d conceived. In fact, she’d spent the last two months trying to convince herself that leaving under cover of darkness, without so much as a thank-you, had been the right thing to do. Now she wasn’t so sure. Fitful dreams about Nate, a man so kind and selfless, had haunted her nights. Guilt ate away at her days. And the memories. Oh, the memories….

  “Eight weeks,” Doc said—no surprise. “You’ve got a long way to go, and you’re considered high risk, so we’re going to monitor you very closely.”

  Erin’s heart squeezed for Nate. She didn’t even know his last name. Finding him was likely impossible. Probably a blessing in disguise, since she’d assured him she couldn’t get pregnant and then bailed like a coward the moment he’d drifted off into dreamland. Whether she carried his child or not, she was probably the last person he’d ever want to see.

  Still, God, he deserved to know.

  That fact weighed on her soul, dampening what should’ve been an exciting—if scary—moment. The baby was his, too.

  She shook off the thoughts. There were so many practicalities to discuss—why focus on what she couldn’t control? “What about my skin? I mean, the stretching?” Surely her scar tissue wouldn’t accommodate the growth of a fetus. She cringed at the thought.

  Dr. Kipfer tilted her head to the side, her blond bob swinging forward to brush along her shoulder. “Well, that’s why we have to keep an eye on things. A lot of it will be your responsibility.”

  Erin’s palms grew damp. “Meaning?”

  “Your skin will accommodate for some stretching by pulling from your back. The body is amazing that way. But you cannot gain a lot of weight with this baby, Erin,” the doctor said, her tone sober. “Twenty pounds, absolute max.” She blinked across the desk without an iota of judgment in her expression. “Assuming, of course, you plan to see this pregnancy through to full term.”

  Erin reeled as though she’d been slapped. She’d had one baby torn from her by an unlucky twist of fate. No way would she ever voluntarily give up another. “Of course. My God, I wouldn’t think of—” She couldn’t even say it.

  Dr. Kipfer held up both palms and smiled. “Just making sure. I don’t like to assume. And whatever you’d choose to do, as your doctor, I’d support you.”

  “Thank you. But, I want this baby.” And, she did. She hadn’t expected how ferociously. They felt like an inseparable duo already.

  “Well, then. I’d say congratulations are in order. You’re going to be a mama.”

  Mama. Her head swirled in wonder. Erin half laughed, half cried. She never imagined this, and part of her keened with the knowledge that it wasn’t Kevin’s baby. Then again, Nate…

  Stop. Be in the moment. Excitement sprouted a beautiful little bud inside her heart. She wanted to dash out and shop for all the tiny clothes and precious things to furnish a nursery, but she was getting way ahead of herself. Questions, worries and logistical plans filled her brain until she couldn’t think straight. The biggest of which was, “What about work?”

  “Yes, that.” Dr. Kipfer quirked her mouth to the side apologetically. “You’ll have to take a medical leave earlier than most pregnant firefighters.”

  “What does that mean? How much earlier?”

  “Get ready to talk to your fire chief. I’ll want you off work and resting at home from twenty weeks through delivery. Eighteen weeks, if you can manage it.”

  “Eighteen weeks!” Dismay gripped Erin. She did, after all, have to support this child on her own. She hoped she had enough sick time banked, or she’d have to request donations from her coworkers. Ick. “That’s four and a half months of bed rest.”

  The doctor held up a finger. “Now, I didn’t say bed rest. We can’t risk any extra weight gain, so you’ll have to continue to exercise. But you’re certainly not going to be out there fighting fires or doing any heavy lifting.”

  “But, that’s my job. I have to earn money.”

  “What about the father?” Dr. Kipfer asked, softly. “Any help from that end?”

  Erin merely shook her head.

  “You do want a healthy birth, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then, get used to the idea. Do what you have to. Friends, family.” She gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know you’re not one to ask for help, Erin, but now’s the time, okay?”

  Erin bit her bottom lip, thinking. “Can I do some light-duty work? Administrative assignments?”

  “Let’s see how things go.”

  At Erin’s disappointed expression, the doctor added, “Look at it this way. For the next seven months, your body absolutely belongs to that baby, and he or she makes every decision about it.”

  “Wow. I never thought about it like that.”

  “Sounds extreme, but it’s worth it, trust me.” The doctor glanced at photographs of her own four children, displayed on the corner of her desk. “And not to worry. After the birth, that new little soul will give everything back. Except, of course, your heart.”

  Erin laughed nervously. “I think he already has that.”

  Dr. Kipfer grinned. “Welcome to mommyhood.”

  After Erin got used to the idea of being pregnant, it took a week to shore up enough courage to tell her parents, a month for her girlfriends to stop squealing every time they saw her, three months before they stopped grilling her about the identity of the father, and five months before her forced “no work” policy drove her to the absolute brink of institutionalization.

  She’d done everything Dr. Kipfer asked of her—eating better than she ever had, exercising regularly, taking it easy. She’d kept her weight gain to just nineteen pounds so far, yet she still felt like an unwieldy Winnebago moving through the world. She’d never bumped into so many things in her life.

  The fire chief, a father and grandfather himself, flat-out ordered her to stay home once she reached eighteen weeks, even though the pregnancy was proceeding normally and the fetus seemed strong. Now, with two months to go before delivery, she simply had to get out and do something non-baby-related before her brain up and died.

  Before she’d had to ease up, she’d taken care of things full force. The nursery was finished, furnished and fine. She’d decluttered and organized her entire house to within an inch of its life. All her flower beds were planted, and there wasn’t a speck of dirt or disarray to be found in her garage—a miracle in itself. Not only that, but she’d kept a daily pregnancy diary to give to her child one day.

  Three volumes and counting.

  It had gotten so bad that Finn, a dog who’d suffered from separation anxiety, mind you, was actually sick of her company. Pack animal or not, the poor dog wanted his space. She could hardly blame the big guy, because she’d been getting on her own nerves for months.

  As far as the impending labor, Cagney was gleefully acting as her Lamaze coach, and her birth plan had been written and revised to anal-retentive perfection. Her hospital bag was packe
d and had taken up permanent residence next to her front door. The phone tree was set up, printed out, dispersed and tested.

  Now, the only thing left was thinking about Nate and wallowing in guilt about everything he was missing. She’d gone so far as to Google “Nate” and “Las Vegas” in the inane hopes of stumbling across him, but the results were too daunting. None of the listings stuck out to her, and no way was she calling hundreds of men to tell them they might be her baby’s father.

  She’d even sucked up her pride and tried the hotel in Denver where they’d created this new little life together. Unfortunately, privacy policies prevented them from giving her any info, and no matter how much she pleaded, they wouldn’t budge.

  Insanity lurked on the horizon waiting to grab her. Something had to give.

  Knowing she was likely in for a lecture, she nevertheless drove to the Fire Department headquarters, bypassed the department secretary and knocked on the chief’s door.

  Her throat tightened as she waited.

  With a quizzical expression on his face, Chief John Dresden pulled open the door, then broke into a huge smile. “DeLuca! What are you doing out of your house?” He pulled her into a fatherly bear hug.

  “I’m allowed to leave my house, Chief.”

  He held her at arm’s length and studied her. “You look well, you look well. But really, why take any chances?” He ushered her in, actually holding her elbow as she sat in one of his visitors’ chairs. She smirked, but didn’t comment. The grandpa in him was really coming out, full force.

  “To what do I owe this nice surprise?”

  “Just wanted to say hi,” she lied, in a breezy tone.

  “Come on. I know you better than that.”

  After he’d crossed behind the desk and sat down, she blew out her frustration. “The thing is, Chief, I’m going stark-raving mad sitting around at home. I can’t do it anymore. So, I’ve come to request…okay, beg for…some light-duty work. My doctor says it’s okay.”

  He tilted his chin down. “Now, come on. You only have a few more weeks to go.”

  She barked out a painful laugh. “That’s easy for you to say, but it’s eight weeks. Eight, which is technically more than ‘a few.’ And I’ve been stuck in my house for fourteen weeks already. That’s three and a half months, in case you don’t feel like doing the math.”