“Oh, it does.” Hannah swept her gaze over the room. “It’s a nursery. This morning it was an empty room, and now it’s an honest-to-goodness nursery.”
“Yup.”
“It makes the baby seem even more real. I guess that sounds dumb, but I look at that crib and I can visualize a little one sleeping there.” She laughed. “I’m going to have a baby.’’
Ted chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. You certainly are, ma’am.” He paused and frowned. “The drawers in the changing table sure are empty. I guess next up is to start getting those sleeper gizmos, diapers, blankets, bibs, the whole nine yards.”
“Yes. There’s a place called Grandma’s House that sells used baby and children’s clothes. I’m going to see what they have.”
Ted picked up the pail and started toward the bedroom door.
“Ted?”
He stopped, then half turned to look back at her. “Hmm?”
“Thank you so much for all you did today. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“You just told me. Come on, I’m a starving man. I’ve got a couple of pizzas in the freezer. Let’s go to my place and stick them in the oven.”
“You can’t feed me dinner on top of everything else you’ve done for me today.”
“Sure I can. I’m in the mood for some cheap, cardboard pizza. I’ll dump this water, then we’re on our way.”
In Ted’s apartment, Hannah made a quick scrutiny of the living room.
“Your apartment is the reverse of mine. Everything goes in the opposite direction.” She smiled. “I’d better stay alert or I’m liable to walk into a wall.”
“Another big difference is that your place is neat as a pin. I’m a slob, pure and simple.”
“What do you use your second bedroom for? A guest room? Office? Nothing?”
“Take a look if you want to,” he said. “I’ll go put the pizzas in the oven.”
When Ted entered the spare bedroom ten minutes later, he found Hannah peering into the glass-fronted cabinet. She turned to face him, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Oh, Ted, these miniatures are beautiful. I had no idea you were so talented.”
“Well, that’s stretching it a bit. They come in kits. I have to carve away the excess, but it’s not as if I start from scratch with a hunk of wood. I enjoy it, though. It’s very relaxing.”
“That tiny cradle you’re doing now is exquisite. The details are incredible for something so small. I’m standing firm on my statement that you’re very talented.”
“Whatever. Next I’m going to build a dollhouse to hold all this stuff. I bought a book at Deedee’s store and I have to decide which one to make.”
“Could I see the book?”
“Sure. Bring it out to the table. I need to check on the pizzas. Cardboard doesn’t take long to cook.”
“I’ll help with dinner,” she said. “Do you want me to set the table, or pour the drinks?”
“Nope. You’ve been on your feet a lot today. It’s time you put your bottom on a chair.”
Hannah laughed. “Says the expert on such things?”
“Hey, I hang out with the MacAllister clan, remember? I’ve heard, ‘Put your feet up, drink your milk, here’s a pillow for behind your back,’ and a long list of other things during the pregnancies I’ve witnessed. I’m very good at the waiting-room-at-the-hospital bit, too.”
He handed her the book on making dollhouses and they left the room.
“However,” he said, circling Hannah’s shoulders with his arm, “if you want to know if you’re having a girl or a boy, you’ll have to ask Forrest MacAllister. He’s The Baby Bet champion. The guy never misses. It’s really getting creepy.”
“Forrest always wins The Baby Bet?”
“Yup, and some of them have been very high-tech bets. When Forrest said Jillian was going to have triplets and they’d all be girls, I figured he was cooked. But I’ll be damned if Jillian didn’t have three baby girls. When you meet Forrest, just ignore the gleam he’ll get in his eyes. He’ll look at your volleyball and start mentally counting twenty-dollar bills.”
“Oh, I doubt that I’d have occasion to meet Forrest MacAllister.”
Ted stopped, forcing Hannah to do the same. He dropped his arm and moved to stand in front of her, placing both hands on her shoulders.
“Of course you’ll be meeting Forrest…and Jillian, the kids, Jenny and Michael and…well, the whole gang.” He frowned. “You want to, don’t you? They’re all as nice as Ryan and Deedee, and you liked them.”
“Yes, I did like them very much, but—”
“Listen, the MacAllisters get together all the time and I’m included in whatever they do. There’s no reason why you can’t go with me to birthday parties, pot lucks, that kind of thing. It’ll be fun, and you can talk about babies with the other moms to your heart’s content.”
“But what about the…the women you date? I mean, won’t someone, or someones, get upset if you take me to where you’ve always taken them?”
“No, Ms. Doodle, because I’ve never taken a woman to a MacAllister gathering. The women I date aren’t the type who would enjoy those sorts of outings. You will enjoy them, so you’ll go with me. Okay?”
“But—”
“Hey, would you deprive Forrest of the opportunity to anticipate The Baby Bet being put into operation down the line? That would not be nice. The guy gets a major rush from The Baby Bet, along with a big stack of twenty-dollar bills.”
“—”
“Oh, hell, my cardboard pizzas are burning!”
The pizzas were very well done around the edges, but eatable. Ted placed a glass of soda by Hannah’s plate, then produced a glass of milk, which he set next to the soft drink.
“Soda with a milk chaser?” she said, raising her eyebrows.
“Mothers-to-be need their milk,” he said, sitting down opposite her. “I know about this jazz, remember?”
“If I drink two full glasses like those, I’ll float away.”
“Okay, then skip the soda and go for the milk.”
“Pizza and milk? Yuck.”
“Tough. There’s a cow somewhere who donated that to your cause. The least you can do is drink it to show your gratitude for its contribution.’’
Hannah laughed.
“Hey, wait.” Ted got to his feet, went into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of green grapes. “There you go.” He plunked the bowl in front of Hannah.
“Pizza, milk and grapes?” she said. “This combination is getting worse by the minute.”
“Fresh fruit is good for you. We may be starting a whole new eating fad with that menu you have there. We’ll sell the idea to a fast-food chain and make a bundle.” He leaned toward her. “Eat.”
“Mmm,” she said, glaring at him.
To Hannah’s surprise, having pizza, milk and grapes together wasn’t all that bad, a fact she decided not to share with the smug Mr. Sharpe.
“Ted,” she said a few minutes later, “why are you so determined that I mix and mingle with the Mac-Allister family? I do have friends, you know. I’m not some pathetic orphaned waif who’s all alone in the big, cruel world.”
Ted frowned. “I realize that, but you did mention that your teacher friends don’t have kids. People with babies like to hang out with people with babies. He shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”
“With you being the exception to the rule. You don’t have children, but you spend a great deal of time with a group who do. How do you explain that?”
Ted leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.
“Is there some reason,” he said, “that you’re attempting to pick a fight with me?”
Hannah opened her mouth to retort, closed it again, then sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that you’re being so nice to me. You said yourself that I’m not your type, not the sort of woman you’d usually see socially. So what am I? Your cause or do-good
er thing? You’re going to be certain that I make new friends I can relate to and that my libido doesn’t get neglected? I’m not a charity case.”
“No, you’re not. At the moment, you’re a very crabby woman. Eat your grapes.”
“Would you stop that!”
“Whew,” he said, shaking his head. He took another bite of pizza.
“Look,” Hannah said, “keeping our lovemaking separate and apart from anything else—”
“Which I think is nuts, but go ahead with what you want to say,” Ted interjected.
“Thank you,” she said coolly. “I repeat, keeping our making love an entity unto itself, why did you spend your entire Sunday shopping for, toting, assembling, and scrubbing baby furniture for my nursery? Why are you suggesting—no, insisting that I accompany you to MacAllister outings? Why are you being so…so nice?”
Ted glowered at her. “I’m after your money.”
“Would you get serious?”
“Hannah, as unbelievable as this will sound to you, I am a nice guy. I don’t have a hidden agenda behind a phony facade. I enjoy your company, we get along great with each other. Well, we usually do, but right now you’re being a real pain in the butt. Maybe your pregnant hormones went into overdrive. Could green grapes do that to a woman in your condition?”
“Sharpe, you’re pushing me.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, raising both hands.
He dropped his hands and captured one of her’s on the top of the table.
“Hannah,” he said quietly, “there’s nothing fishy going on, I swear it. You’re set on automatic ‘don’t trust your own judgment’ in regard to men, but I’m exactly who I present myself to be. I like you, respect you, enjoy being with you. Hell, I even think your cat is cute.
“We’re lovers, which you insist on keeping in its own compartment. Fine. Weird, but fine, if that’s the way you want it. I think you’ll have fun with the MacAllisters, so we’ll join in on MacAllister doings. I spent today helping set up your nursery because I chose to do so. Okay? There’s no sinister plot that you’re afraid you’re not recognizing.”
He released her hand and popped a grape into his mouth.
“Lighten up, Ms. Doodle.” He splayed one hand on his chest. “This is me, Theodore Sharpe. What you see is what you get, upfront and honest. If I’m being nice to you, it’s because you’re a nice person who deserves to be treated nicely. That’s an overdose of the word nice, but that’s how it is. Pure and simple.”
“Oh,” Hannah said, nodding. “Oh-h-h,” she wailed in the next instant as tears filled her eyes. “I can’t handle this.”
“Jeez.” Ted pulled the bowl of grapes toward him. “Quit eating these things.”
Hannah sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just…But I…So sorry…” She threw up her hands in a gesture of frustration. “Oh-h-h.”
Ted got to his feet. “You’re exhausted, that’s what you are. We did a lot today, too much, obviously. Come on, sweet Hannah, I’ll walk you home so you can go to bed. Get some sleep and…bingo…tomorrow will be a daffodils-and-daisies day. Guaranteed.”
Hannah nodded, sniffled again, then got to her feet. She welcomed the feel of Ted’s powerful body as he slid one arm across her shoulders and tucked her close to his side.
She was suddenly so tired that it was an effort to place one foot in front of the other, and she was most definitely too exhausted to think. She would allow herself the luxury of being taken care of for now; escorted to her door, told to go to bed. So be it.
At Hannah’s apartment, Ted unlocked the door, pushed it open and gave her the keys. Then he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her deeply.
“Sleep well, Ms. Doodle,” he said when he finally raised his head.
“Thank you, Ted,” she said, tears still echoing in her voice, “for everything.”
Ted chuckled. “Especially that gourmet dinner I fixed you.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Go.”
Ted waited until he heard the lock snap into place and the jingle of the safety chain. He stared at the closed door for a long moment, then turned and walked slowly back to his own place.
In his living room, he stopped and gazed at his surroundings, seeing Hannah in his mind’s eye, hearing her voice, her laughter, inhaling the lingering fragrance of flowers.
He crossed the room to the cluttered table and picked up the glasses, smiling as he looked at the bowl of green grapes.
He should be ticked, he supposed, at the way Hannah had switched moods and geared up for battle. But he couldn’t be angry because she’d been so endearing, so befuddled by his actions. And he understood that she’d verbally attacked him because she’d been so badly hurt in the past.
And then she’d lost it, burst into tears and looked so tired and forlorn. He wanted to scoop her up and hold her, comfort her, tell her there was nothing to be afraid of when she was with him.
Ted took the glasses to the kitchen, then returned to the table to retrieve more of the debris. A frown settled over his features as he continued his cleaning chore.
Hannah’s theory of how she was handling the issue of their lovemaking was unusual, to say the least. She placed it in its ever-famous slot and left it there.
Weird.
Well, maybe not. The women he slept with did the same thing, in their own way. They didn’t expect anything of him the next day, just said, “see ya,” and were receptive when he contacted them for another date.
So why did it bother him so much that Hannah insisted on leaving in the bedroom the intimacy they shared, refusing to allow it to have any influence whatsoever on the other hours they spent together?
Her attitude wasn’t all that different from what he was accustomed to, what he actually preferred. So why had he been on her case, insisting her outlook was completely nuts? he wondered.
Hell, he didn’t know.
He’d felt a knot tighten in his gut when Hannah had cut loose with her tirade, demanding to know why he wanted to take her to MacAllister events. That knot had been fear that she’d refuse to go. He wanted to have her with him when he took part in things with the MacAllister clan, he really did.
Sharpe, he told himself, you’d better watch your step. Hannah Johnson was getting to him, inch by emotional inch. He had to stay very alert, be certain he didn’t get caught up by Hannah’s bleak circumstances, continually see himself as the dashing hero to the rescue, her knight in shining armor arriving to save the damsel in distress.
What he’d told her was the truth. He enjoyed her company, and sincerely believed she’d reap great rewards from associating with the MacAllisters, from having them as friends.
And what she would learn over time was that there really were nice men around, the real goods. She’d see that a few mistakes in judgment in the past shouldn’t sentence her to a life alone.
Yup, he thought, sticking the bowl of grapes into the refrigerator, everything would be just fine.
Ted wandered back into the living room. Then why was he so hell-bent on changing Hannah’s attitude about keeping their lovemaking separate. Why did the idea of having Hannah by his side at the next Mac-Allister gathering hold so much appeal?
And why did it suddenly seem so damn quiet and empty in his living room?
“Forget it,” he said aloud. “Go carve a cradle.”
On his way to the spare bedroom, Ted changed directions and went to the table to retrieve the book on making doll houses.
As he started back across the room, he flipped through the pages.
He’d pick the model that struck his fancy, he thought, and send for the kit. It would be a challenging and complicated project, but he’d enjoy it. Besides, he needed a house for his growing collection of furniture.
After turning on the light in the bedroom-workshop, Ted leaned one shoulder against the door frame and his gaze roamed over the room.
This was not, he supposed, remotely close to what people would expect to find in a so-called swinging bachelor’s apartm
ent. Fast-lane guys were not known for having a collection of handmade miniatures in residence, or for being in the process of deciding which dollhouse to build for the tiny furniture.
He frowned and shook his head.
It was actually borderline dumb, now that he really thought about it. A single man was intending to eventually have a completely furnished dollhouse in the spare bedroom of his apartment? Definitely dumb.
So, yeah, the MacAllister kids could visit it and play with it, but still. A dollhouse belonged in a little girl’s room where she could give free rein to her imagination whenever the mood struck. A dollhouse was something a daddy could share with her, too. They’d sit on the floor together, rearrange the furniture, make up stories about the people who lived in the house. Very special memories could be created by the hours a man spent with his daughter and a dollhouse.
Ted sighed.
A daughter. A miracle. A living, breathing human being, who existed because two people had joined their bodies in the most intimate and beautiful act ever.
A daughter or a son, neither of which he would ever have.
A chill coursed through Ted and he pushed himself away from the door frame and went to the chair by the worktable. He sank onto it heavily, placing the dollhouse book in front of him.
His mind was yanked back in time, haunting ghosts of the past giving no quarter. Over the years, he’d not allowed the truth the space to tear him apart, he’d refused to address what he knew was true.
But tonight? He was suddenly powerless against the memories that assaulted him…
He was sixteen years old and had just recovered from a severe case of the mumps. The doctor had run a test to see if any permanent damage had been done, and he and his parents were waiting for the results.
It was raining, and had been a gloomy day, ominously dark when it should have been sunny. He’d approached the kitchen door, then stopped in the hallway as he heard his parents talking.
“That was the doctor on the phone, Maggie,” his father said. “Ted’s test results show that he…Oh, God.”
“Dean?” his mother said. “Dear heaven, what did the doctor say?”
The Father of Her Child (The Baby Bet #3) Page 10