The Father of Her Child (The Baby Bet #3)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  Tension began to build within them tighter, hotter, coiling in spiraling currents. Lifting them up and away from reality.

  Higher.

  Soaring.

  “Ted!”

  Hannah was flung far, far beyond anything she had ever known before to a wondrous place of sparkling colors and intense physical sensations that defied description.

  Ted joined her there a heartbeat later. Throwing back his head, a groan of pure male pleasure rumbled from his throat as he found his release.

  They stilled, hovering for a seconds for eternity. Memorizing the moment, etching it indelibly in their hearts and minds; their very souls.

  Then Ted shifted off of Hannah and collapsed next to her, spent, sated, staying close to her side.

  And neither spoke, because no words were needed.

  Ted reached for the blankets and covered them as their bodies cooled. He kissed Hannah on the temple, then snapped off the lamp.

  “Go to sleep, Ms. Doodle,” he said quietly.

  “Yes,” she said, snuggling closer to him.

  As Hannah drifted into blissful slumber, Ted placed one hand on her stomach in a protective gesture. He looked at Hannah’s peaceful face again, then back at his hand.

  A strange tightness gripped his throat and his eyes burned with what he realized were unshed tears. Emotions tumbled through him in a maze, too many and too foreign to decipher.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep, ragged breath, then gave way to the somnolence that claimed him.

  Ted was pulled from the depths of a deep, peaceful and dreamless sleep by a strange, irritating sensation. Even in his foggy state, he realized there was something moist stroking his chin in a steady rhythm.

  He opened one eye and saw Daisy curled next to him on the pillow, her full attention devoted to giving his chin a morning bath.

  Ted frowned in confusion, wondering how Daisy had gotten into his apartment. In the next instant, reality struck and he snapped his head around to look at the pillow next to him. The jerking motion caused Daisy to tumble away in a fluffy ball, complete with an indignant squeak of protest.

  Hannah, Ted thought, staring at her. Beautiful Ms. Doodle. She slept pretty. Yeah, she really did. Her hair was spread out on the pillow like a dark, silky fan, her features were relaxed and lovely, her lips…those sensational, kissable, sweet-as-honey lips, were slightly parted. A cameo.

  The events of the previous night floated into Ted’s mental vision, vivid and sensuously detailed. Heat came to life in his body, causing the now-familiar ache of wanting Hannah to build steadily. He tore his gaze from her face to look beyond her to the clock on the nightstand.

  It read 7:12 a.m.

  It was a new day, Sunday morning, he mused. What would Hannah do, say? How would she feel about having made love with him? Would this be, to her, a daffodils-and-daisies morning? Or would she be filled with regret, remorse? Demand that he leave her bed, her home, her life?

  Lord, what if she said he was never to darken her doorway again? Tossed him out and slammed the door, locking it firmly behind him?

  Well, there was no way to know what her frame of mind, her mood or attitude was until she woke up. He’d just stay put and wait patiently for her to open her big, gorgeous dark eyes.

  Ted stared at the ceiling for two seconds, three, then four.

  “Hell, forget it,” he mumbled.

  He raised his head to see Daisy sitting by his knee, busily grooming her tail. He scooped up the kitten and placed her gently on the pillow next to Hannah’s face.

  “Go for it, Daisy,” he whispered.

  Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up on one forearm, then nudged Daisy on the bottom. The kitten inched forward, leaned toward Hannah, studied the sleeping human, then began to wash Hannah’s nose.

  Ted smothered a chuckle before it could erupt.

  Hannah frowned in her sleep, then brushed a hand in the direction of the annoying whatever-it-was on her nose, missing Daisy entirely. The busy little pink tongue continued its chore.

  “Mmm,” Hannah said, opening her eyes, which immediately crossed as she focused on Daisy. “Oh, good grief, would you go away?”

  “Good morning,” Ted said quietly.

  Hannah’s eyes flew to his, then widened for a moment at the shock of seeing him there.

  Ted’s heart thudded wildly as he met her gaze. He willed her to speak, to give him some clue as to what she was feeling, before he had a nervous breakdown.

  He did not want Hannah to regret what they’d shared. Why that was so very important to him, he had no idea, but it was. And if she didn’t say something in the next second, he was going to go right out of his ever-lovin’ mind.

  “Hannah,” he said, hearing the unsteady tone of his voice, “it’s a daffodils-and-daisies morning.” He paused and lifted Daisy off the pillow, putting her farther down the bed between him and Hannah. “Right?”

  Hannah continued to stare at him, no readable expression on her face. A trickle of sweat ran down Ted’s chest as he waited, hardly breathing.

  Then slowly, so slowly, a smile began to form on Hannah’s lips.

  “Yes, Ted,” she said softly. “It is a daffodils-and-daisies morning.”

  Ted flopped back onto his pillow. “Oh, thank God.” He dragged both hands down his face, then turned his head to look at her again. “I was so afraid that you’d…Never mind.”

  “That I’d be sorry about what happened last night? Be filled with guilt or regret?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, I know that you wouldn’t treat something like this lightly. Believe me, Hannah, I do know that. I’d hate it, really hate it, if you were upset, angry, sorry it took place, whatever. But…you’re not?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Isn’t just saying no enough?” she said, frowning slightly.

  “Humor me. I’m a wreck here, Hannah. I’ve been waiting hours for you to wake up so I’d know how you felt about this. Well, that’s stretching it a bit. It wasn’t hours, but it sure seemed like it was. I’m shook up here, Ms. Doodle, so take pity and tell me why this is a daffodils-and-daisies day.”

  “Well, because we made exquisite love together, Ted,” she said, her smile returning. “It was glorious, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. You made me feel special, cherished, and…and beautiful. Even though I’m shaped like a volleyball, I felt beautiful.”

  Heat rocketed through Ted’s body as he listened to Hannah’s softly spoken words and saw the gentle, womanly smile on her face.

  Ah, Hannah, his mind thundered. I want you again. Now. Right now.

  “And,” she went on, “I’m a woman who is free to make her own decisions as long as I realize I have to take responsibility for them. I wanted to make love with you, Ted. So I made the choice to do so, and I’m not sorry that I did. There. That’s it. Last night was last night. Today is a new day. End of story.”

  Ted frowned. “Wait a minute. That doesn’t sound quite right to me.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Last night isn’t erased, forgotten or wrapped up in a package and shoved onto a back shelf somewhere. It has a bearing on this morning. It came with us into the new day. You can’t separate the two like cutting a pizza.”

  “Yes, I can, and I have.” She paused. “Would you like some breakfast? I make a delicious omelet, if I do say so myself.”

  “Hold it,” he said, slicing one hand through the air. He sat up, shoved the pillow against the headboard, then moved backward to lean against it. The sheet and blanket dropped, then draped low across his hips. “We haven’t finished this discussion yet.”

  Hannah clutched the sheet over her bare breasts with one hand, then wiggled into a position matching Ted’s.

  Daisy yowled her disapproval at being disturbed and jumped off the bed, rolling head over tail when she landed on the floor. She shook herself, then ran from the room.

  Hannah tucked the sheet beneath her arms, then fo
lded her hands on her stomach. She looked at Ted and raised her eyebrows.

  “What?” he said, obviously confused.

  “You called this meeting to order,” she said. “Go ahead and speak your mind. Do be aware, however, that I’m eating for two, and this duo is hungry. Well? Carry on, Mr. Sharpe.”

  “I most certainly will. You, Ms. Doodle, have a wacky attitude, do you know that? You put things into slots, compartments, or something, then close the door, lock it and ignore them.”

  Hannah nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right…sort of. I mean, you’re basically correct, but the way you describe it makes it sound as though I do it on a whim, like I’m just shrugging and saying, ‘Oh, well, what the hell.’”

  “Mmm,” he said, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “Mmm.”

  “You’re starting to get angry, and that’s not fair, Ted. I don’t have an ‘attitude’ in the negative way you said it. I have a philosophy for living my life, one that has made it possible for me to survive some rough blows. If I get mired in the past, it would be impossible to be in the now, then move forward into the future.”

  “That’s fine, dandy, really great. I can see where that philosophy helped you deal with the reality of your husband being a total jerk. But Hannah, we made love last night. A handful of hours ago. I think it’s lousy that you’ve put it away somewhere like yesterday’s newspaper. Damn it, what we shared was important!”

  “Don’t yell! I know it was important, and special and…But, darn it, don’t you see that if I bring it into today, I’m giving it the power to dictate to my emotions, my state of mind?

  “What do you want me to do? Go around with a silly grin on my face, staring dreamily into space and sighing as I say ‘Ted, oh, Ted. Oh, Ted, Ted, Ted,’ like a besotted teenager?”

  Ted narrowed his eyes. “That has possibilities. It’s a helluva lot better than my feeling like old news, like I’m Mr. ‘What’s-his-name.’”

  “Ah-ha,” she said, pointing one finger in the air. “Oops,” she said as the sheet began to slip down. She tucked it back into place.

  “Ah-ha? That indicates you’ve drawn some sort of conclusion. Do enlighten me, Hannah. I’d hate to miss this.”

  “It’s as clear as a bell. Your male ego is bruised, Mr. Sharpe.” She nodded decisively. “You’re accustomed to women being all dewy-eyed and breathless the morning after. Despite the fact that you’re a confirmed bachelor who wants no part of commitment or entanglements, you don’t know what to do with a woman who cherishes having made love with you last night, but greets the morning thinking of omelets.”

  “Oh, man,” he said, squeezing his temples with one hand. “You’re scrambling my brain. I’ve never met anyone like you before, anyone who thinks like you do. You are definitely driving me crazy.’’

  “I don’t know why, because it’s very simple. Well, maybe it’s complicated to you, but it’s simple in its complexity.” She laughed. “That didn’t make one bit of sense.”

  “No joke. I need some time to sort through this puzzle. That means I’m not yet in a position to convince you to allow last night to be part of today.

  “However, since I feel so strongly that our love-making should be in the here and now, I’ll have to make adjustments to the situation until I have a clearer picture of this maze.”

  “What sort of adjustments?”

  “Elementary, my dear Doodle. It’s called compromise. We’ll leave what we shared in last night’s slot, where you feel it belongs, even though I adamantly disagree.

  “So, in order to keep our making love in today, where I believe it deserves to be, we’ll take care of today’s slot, which you decree to be empty. Get it?”

  “Oh. Well, yes, I do understand what you’re saying, but…”

  “Lord, I’m brilliant.” He slid one hand to the back of her neck and leaned toward her. “I amaze myself at times with my genius-level thinking.”

  “But…”

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Don’t you agree, Hannah—” he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue “—that I’m extremely intelligent?”

  “I…urn…”

  Ted slipped the sheet free of her arms and swept it away, his hand returning to tenderly cradle one of her breasts.

  “Yes?” he said, close to her lips.

  “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, yes.”

  It was all, and it was more, than the exquisite love-making of the night before. It was slow, teasing, tantalizing. Hands and lips were never still; roaming, caressing with feather-like gentleness, discovering more of the mysteries freely revealed.

  “Ah, Hannah,” Ted said, his voice hoarse with building passion.

  He kissed her stomach, then his breath caught as he felt the baby move. He splayed one hand on the rounded flesh, awe evident on his face and in his eyes as the miracle beneath shifted again.

  “Incredible,” he whispered. “My God, Hannah, do you realize what you’re sharing with me? What you’re allowing me to be a part of? Thank you. Oh, Hannah, thank you. I sincerely mean that.”

  He captured her mouth and kissed her deeply, foreign emotions intertwining with his raging desire.

  Ted, Ted, Ted, Hannah’s mind sang. Besotted teenager? Oh, who cared? It didn’t matter, not now. She’d think later…later. She just wanted Ted, needed Ted, before she went up in flames and disappeared into oblivion.

  He entered her slowly, his arms trembling from forced restraint. She met his smoldering gaze, knowing desire showed in her eyes, as well.

  “Please,” she said, pressing her hands more firmly on his back. “Come to me, Ted. I want you so much, so very much.”

  He thrust deeper, and a sigh of pleasure escaped from Hannah’s lips.

  “Oh, Ted,” she said dreamily.

  He stilled within her, savoring the moist heat that had received all he’d brought to her, welcoming him into the dark, feminine haven of her body.

  “This is today, Hannah,” he said, the raspy quality of his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “We’re making love today.“

  “A daffodils-and-daisies day.”

  “Yes.”

  He kissed her again, then began a rocking rhythm. Hannah moved with him in perfect synchronization. He increased the tempo and they began to soar, each anticipating the summit; wishing to postpone it, yet wanting, needing it, now.

  They reached the pinnacle seconds apart, each calling the name of the other, holding on tightly.

  They were there…and it was glorious.

  It was a celebration of man being man, woman being woman, counterparts meant to mesh into one entity that was creating an ecstasy far beyond definition in its splendor.

  They drifted among the spectacle of vibrant, sparkling colors, delaying the return, staying in a world that belonged only to them.

  Reality tapped gently on hazy minds, and Ted reluctantly moved from Hannah to settle close to her side.

  “Oh, Ted,” she said. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “Ditto, kid do,” he said, then drew a deep, steadying breath. “Unreal. I’ll move in a week. Just dust around me.”

  Hannah smiled. “Okay. However, as unromantic as this statement is about to be, my human cargo just plunked himself, or herself, on my bladder. As the saying goes, ‘I’m outta here.’” She kissed Ted quickly on the lips, then left the bed, hurrying to the bathroom.

  Ted closed his eyes, savoring the sated contentment consuming him.

  Hannah, his mind hummed.

  He opened his eyes, laced his fingers beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling. A frown crept over his features.

  Hannah was so different from any woman he’d ever known. She was evoking emotions within him that he couldn’t clearly identify.

  Was he headed for trouble?

  Was he being drawn deeper and deeper into a situation where he didn’t belong?

  Should he exit stage left immediately?

  No!

  Damn it, no.

 
He was okay, doing fine. Of course he felt a protectiveness toward Hannah, any decent man would, considering her circumstances. As for the foreign emotions, he’d ignore them. What he didn’t address couldn’t affect him. That made sense.

  He was still determined to convince Hannah that her resolve to never love again was wrong. There was no reason for her to sentence herself to a life alone, just her and the baby.

  The baby. Lord, when he’d felt the baby move, he thought his heart was going to jump right out of his chest. Beneath his lips, his hand, a miracle had made its presence known. Incredible. Awesome. Humbling.

  “Really something,” he said aloud.

  So, Sharpe? he asked himself. Have you got your act together? Yeah, he did. Making love with Hannah didn’t mean he’d fall in love with Ms. Doodle. No way.

  But he’d stick close to her, help her fix up the nursery, show her, prove to her over time that he was exactly who he said he was. Not all men changed their stripes after gaining a woman’s trust.

  Once she realized that he was real, she’d have to admit that there must be other guys out there who were, too. Then she’d…

  Ted sat bolt upward.

  Then she’d what? Fall in love with one of them? Make love with one of them? Pick one of them to have the privilege of helping her raise her child?

  Well, yeah, that was the ultimate goal of his campaign.

  So why did he suddenly have a cold knot in his gut?

  “Because you’re hungry, fool,” he said, flipping back the blankets.

  He needed some protein, some brain food, then he’d be right as rain. Everything would be fine, under his control.

  Chapter Eight

  That evening, Ted dropped a sponge into a plastic pail filled with soapy water, then stepped back and planted his hands on his hips.

  “There you go, Ms. Doodle,” he said. “Crib, high chair, playpen and changing table are assembled and washed with soap and disinfectant. I’d say we’ve done a good day’s work.”

  “You did all the work,” Hannah said, smiling. “I just stood around watching.”

  “Every job needs a supervisor. This stuff is in excellent condition, considering it’s used. I think it looks great.”