by BETH KERY
The problem was, part of her rebelled against that very idea. Part of her clung on to the memories of feeling so alive...so cherished. He’d made her feel so special, made her so aware of her femininity, made her prize again what Jesse had found replaceable.
Part of her treasured the memories of Ryan, and that part was only growing since he’d come back into her life. That realization worried Faith.
It worried her a lot.
* * *
She was in the process of doing Saturday morning chores when she heard a car door slam. Her heart lurched against her breastbone when she peeked out the window and saw Ryan’s car in the driveway. He’d said that he’d stop by again today, but she hadn’t expected him so early.
She dropped the curtain and glanced at herself in the vanity mirror. She’d washed her hair this morning, but hadn’t styled it. It’d dried into a wild riot of curls, which she’d restrained in a low ponytail at her neck. She wore an old pair of low-rise jeans and a simple white T-shirt. The shirt was a lot tighter than she ever remembered it being before, and the jeans kept slipping down her hips while she worked, resulting in her newly expanding belly protruding over the waistband.
A brisk knock resounded down the hallway. Topsy charged to the front door, yipping ferociously the entire time. Panicked, Faith flung open her closet and grabbed an old flannel shirt. She hurriedly slipped it on, and then hitched up her uncooperative jeans. She grabbed Topsy before she opened the front door.
Ryan stood there in the sunshine holding a toolbox. His dark hair fluttered in the spring breeze. He wore a pair of well-fitted jeans, brown work boots and a dark blue thermal shirt with a T-shirt beneath it. He pretty much epitomized the sexy tool man that every female with a healthy pulse on the planet would love to invite into her house.
She mentally rolled her eyes at the errant, ridiculous thought and opened the screen door for him.
“Is this a good time?” Ryan asked.
“Er...a good time for what?” she wondered, her gaze running over the line of his slightly whiskered jaw and well-shaped mouth.
His lips tilted ever so slightly.
“To fix your back door. Unless you had something else in mind. I’m flexible.”
Faith realized his gaze had dropped. She’d tried to close the flannel shirt over the revealing T-shirt, but Topsy had wiggled her way into the opening, parting the material. Her nipples prickled beneath Ryan’s warm glance. Heat rushed into her cheeks.
“Fixing the back door would be great. If you’re sure you don’t mind?” she asked, flustered. She tried to tug the flannel shirt closed over the strip of bare skin above her jeans. She backed up so that he could enter. If he were just a few inches taller, he’d have to duck his head to not hit the doorframe. As soon as the door was closed, she set down Topsy, who yipped and frolicked on Ryan’s boots and around his ankles. The puppy wagged her entire bottom, not just her tail, as he bent to pet her.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Ryan asked after he’d stood.
“No,” she said, leading him to the kitchen, hurriedly buttoning the flannel shirt. “I was just doing some cleaning, and I have to attack the den later.”
“Attack?” he asked. She heard the smile in his voice before she glanced back to see it. His wind-ruffled dark hair fell attractively on his forehead. “Sounds pretty hardcore.”
“I keep procrastinating on it,” Faith said as she watched him set down his toolbox next to the back door. She realized she was staring at his rear end as he bent over and glanced away, blushing.
“What’s the hurry?” Ryan asked, flipping open the lid on the metal box.
“Well, the baby coming, I guess.”
He paused at that, his head swinging around. She felt herself being examined by his incisive stare.
She gave him a weak smile. “The den is going to be the nursery. I have to clear it all out before I can start to decorate and buy the furniture.”
She saw the color wash out of his face beneath his tan. He just stood there, holding a hammer and looking stunned.
“Ryan? Are you okay?”
After a second he nodded. He stepped toward the door. “It’s really going to happen, isn’t it?” he said after a moment. “You’re actually going to have a baby.”
She nodded, giving him a quizzical glance. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. “I woke up this morning, wondering if it had all been a dream,” she heard him mutter as he lifted the claw of the hammer to loosen the piece of plywood.
“Like I said, it takes a while to set in. It seems a little surreal to me all over again, with you being here,” she admitted.
For a stretched second they looked at one another. Then Ryan inhaled and returned to his task. “I’ll come and help you with the den after I finish here. Do me a favor?”
“What?” Faith asked.
“Don’t lift anything heavy or overexert yourself.”
She crossed her arms at her waist. “You make it sound like pregnancy is a frailty. I’m very healthy.”
He arched his eyebrows at her defiance, his mouth twitching in a grin. “I agree. I’d just like to keep it that way.”
She couldn’t help returning his small smile. It was difficult to get miffed at him when he was so charming. Still, she wouldn’t want to set a precedent with him for allowing heavy-handedness.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And the baby,” she said, quietly but firmly.
“There’s no doubt about that. But I’m the baby’s father, and I want to help. No reason for me not to do the heavy jobs,” he said, pulling on the hammer and prying the nails out of her back door like it was made of butter instead of wood. He gave her a sideways glance. “I’m capable, too, Faith. And willing.”
Faith couldn’t argue with that. He was, indeed, capable...at many things. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that knowing look in his eyes when he’d admitted to being willing, as well. She felt her cheeks heating and figured it was best to retreat for now.
“Would you like me to make you some coffee?”
He shook his head, his attention now so entirely on his task she might have imagined the heat in his eyes right now. “I’m good.”
“Then I’ll be in the den.”
“I’ll be there in a while,” Ryan replied briskly.
* * *
True to his word, he joined her in the den a little less than an hour later. Faith glanced up when he entered the room and towered over where she sat on the floor next to her old hope chest.
“All finished in the kitchen,” he said, glancing around the room. His gaze stuck on an old Holland High School booster banner tacked on the bulletin board. “I thought you said this was the den. It looks like your old bedroom.”
“It was,” Faith admitted. “When I bought the house from Mom and Dad, it sort of became a combination den and storage room. I have another guest bedroom for visitors, and I moved into the master suite. This room gets the best morning sunlight, though, so I thought it’d be ideal for the nursery.”
She held up the high school report card she’d found in the trunk. “I can’t believe my mother saved some of this junk,” she said before she started to throw the card into a plastic garbage bag. Ryan halted her with a hand at her wrist. She glanced up in surprise when he took the report card from her. He stood there, examining it, an amused expression lighting his carved features.
“Straight A’s in trigonometry, chemistry, AP English and economics.” His eyebrows went up. “A C minus in gym class?”
Faith blinked in embarrassment and stretched to snatch the card out of his hand. She tossed it into the garbage bag and gave him a rueful glance.
“We had softball that quarter. I can’t hit a ball for anything. Let’s hope the baby gets your athletic abilities and reflexes, and not mine,” she mumbled, smiling grudgingly. She looked up in amazement at the sound of his deep laughter. He knelt on the carpet next to her, still chuckling. Her grin widened. She went still when he
leaned toward her and picked up a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. She didn’t move as he rubbed the coil of hair between his fingers, his expression growing thoughtful.
“I hope the baby gets your curls.” He met her stare. “And your smile.”
She stared at him, wide-eyed. Suddenly, the space between them seemed very small. The air itself seemed to grow heavy, like a pocket had just been formed around them and was shrinking by the second. She couldn’t think of what to say.
She couldn’t think, period.
“Can I ask you a favor?” he asked in a subdued, serious tone.
She just nodded, her lips falling open. He met her gaze solemnly.
“Can I touch our baby?”
Chapter Five
When she didn’t speak immediately, she saw his muscular throat tighten as he swallowed. “It’s just that it’s been really hard for me to absorb this. It might help me. It might make it more real somehow...”
He trailed off when she just continued to stare at him. He tightened his hands on his thighs.
“Never mind,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“No,” Faith said quickly, regret filtering through her entrancement. His request was incredibly intimate, but not in the sexual sense. It was as if her brain didn’t quite know how to interpret his question. “I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise,” she said, coming up on her knees and facing him. She smiled nervously. “I understand about finding it hard to accept. I didn’t really start to soak it in until I saw the ultrasound.”
“What was it like?”
“Incredible. You could see the heart beating,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Wow.” A strained silence followed as they just looked at each other. “Do you think I could come? For the next ultrasound?”
She nodded.
“Thanks.”
“I have a picture of the baby, Ryan. I’ll show it to you.”
“That’d be great.”
She told herself to stand and get the ultrasound photo, but instead she remained kneeling there. Her heart went out to him. How difficult it must be for him. She had the baby with her every second of every day—a warm, wonderful secret growing within her very flesh. It seemed so unfair, to keep him separate from that awesome experience.
Slowly she began to unbutton the flannel shirt. He went utterly still, the only exception being his dark-eyed gaze flickering downward, following the path of her fingers.
Faith hesitated when she saw that the thin T-shirt had again wormed its way up over the nearly insubstantial bump in her belly, while her low-riding jeans had gone in the opposite direction. She willfully ignored the heat that rushed into her cheeks, however. Hadn’t Ryan just asked if he could come to the next ultrasound? She might as well get used to allowing him to see her naked stomach.
She opened the flaps of the flannel shirt and glanced up with effort. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the fabric when she saw that his dark eyes weren’t trained on her belly, but on her breasts pressing tightly against the white cotton. The silence seemed to take on weight. His gaze lingered, and then lowered over her.
Had she just thought that his request was intimate, but not sexual? She’d been wrong, Faith realized as her heartbeat began to throb in her ears and he stared at her belly. It was both.
In spades.
Her mouth went dry when he reached with one hand, and gently pulled up the T-shirt to her waist. She held her breath until it burned in her lungs when he placed his hand over her abdomen. She knew from experience that her belly felt taut and smooth. His hand looked dark next to her pale skin, his fingers long and strong. He nearly encompassed her width. A warm pressure spread at her core, making her ache.
She glanced up at him, her curiosity overcoming her embarrassment. His face looked rapt. When his gaze flickered upward, she gave him a shaky smile.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” she said softly.
“Amazing,” he agreed, looking like he meant it in the literal, not everyday usage of the word. He moved his hand. His palm was warm against her bare skin.
“Can you feel the baby moving yet?” he asked.
She shook her head. In his leaned-over position, his face was very close to hers. She could smell his spicy, clean scent. They’d taken to talking in hushed tones, as if they were conversing at a sacred event. Which they were, Faith supposed.
“The doctor says I should at around sixteen to twenty-two weeks. Maybe later, since it’s my first pregnancy.”
“So this is your first pregnancy.”
She blinked in surprise, but then caught what he’d meant. It was possible that she’d gotten pregnant before, and lost the baby. “Yes. I’ve never been pregnant until now. Jesse wasn’t interested in having children,” she said gently.
He didn’t say anything, just glanced back down to his hand on her stomach. He moved it slightly, spiking tendrils of pleasure through her flesh.
“Ryan?” she asked quietly. He looked up at her, his expression solemn.
“Did you? Want a child? Someday, I mean?” she clarified.
“Yes.”
She gave a tremulous smile. The conviction in his voice had been absolute.
“Well...even if the timing and circumstances weren’t what you might have wanted, I’m glad that your wish came true,” she whispered.
“Thank you. For making it come true,” he said quietly.
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t speak. She was caught in his stare. Neither of them spoke when he lifted his hand. Somehow she knew what he was about to do. She didn’t protest when he gently cupped her right breast. The heavy, pleasurable ache at her center amplified to a slow burn.
“You’re changing here, too,” he said gruffly.
She stifled a gasp when his fingers moved, ever so slightly, grazing a sensitive nipple. “Yes.”
“Are you planning on breast-feeding?” he asked.
When she didn’t immediately respond, his gaze flashed up to her face. She nodded, her throat too tight with emotion to speak. His nostrils flared. He seemed to come to himself. He dropped his hand and stood. Faith looked up at him helplessly. His face was rigid and difficult to read, but his tense muscles and hard body betrayed his arousal.
He excused himself and walked out of the room, leaving her spinning in confusion and desire.
* * *
After taking a few minutes to compose himself, Ryan returned to the den. Regret hit him when he saw Faith glance up at him from where she still sat on the floor, her face looking pale, her eyes huge. She’d rebuttoned the flannel shirt, which amplified his guilt, but also gladdened him. All in all, he thought it was best for the time being that she cover herself from his greedy gaze. The last thing he wanted to do was to alienate her, but seeing the subtle transformation of her lovely body had moved him deeply.
It had also been one of the most erotic experiences he could ever imagine—touching her. If that had been true on Christmas Eve, it was even more so now that his child grew inside of her.
A child.
Their baby.
And people said miracles didn’t happen anymore. Couldn’t they see they occurred every day, right in front of their eyes?
“What should I tackle first?” he asked, forcing his mind to the mundane and glancing around the room. He was glad to see the tension seep out of her face.
“Oh, well I suppose you could start with the closet? Pretty much everything in there is stuff that I’ve already gone through and want to throw away.”
“What about all this furniture?” he asked, inspecting the large cherry desk, bureau and full-size bed.
“I was planning on hiring movers to do that. I’m going to donate the bed and bureau to the Salvation Army. They said they’d come and pick it up with their truck if I got the items out into the driveway. As for the desk, I’m moving that to the guest bedroom,” she said, standing.
Ryan nodded, assessing the items. “I can do it today. I’ll run into town an
d rent a hand truck, then stop by the Salvation Army and ask them to pick up the bed and bureau later this afternoon.” He noticed Faith’s amazed expression. “But if you’d rather I worked on the closet instead, that’s fine, too.”
“No, I just hadn’t expected that it all could be taken care of so quickly by one person. Are you sure? It seems like such a big job.”
“Not if I have the right tools to do it with,” Ryan said. He caught her gaze and gave her a smile. He hoped she recognized it as an apology for pawing her earlier. Not that he’d considered it pawing, by any means. More like carnal worship, but he couldn’t really tell Faith that without making more of a fool of himself than he already had.
“I’ll be back in less than an hour. How about if I bring us back some lunch, too?”
“That’d be great.” She gave him a shaky smile, and he thought he might have been forgiven.
He hoped so, anyway.
* * *
When he returned with the rented hand truck, he taped all the drawers together on the desk and moved it into the spare bedroom. Afterward, they took a break. He got everything ready for their lunch while Faith admired her newly fixed back door, complete with not just one, but two sturdy-looking brass locks. She opened it and gazed at the back yard. Topsy was almost immediately there, panting to get outside. Faith laughed and let the puppy run into the yard.
“This is great. I used to have to take her out the front and go around the house to let her into the fenced-in area. Thank you for fixing it, Ryan,” she said, coming toward him and accepting the sandwich and salad he offered her, along with a carton of skim milk.
“My pleasure,” Ryan said, watching Topsy through the window over the sink. She zipped from place to place, sniffing every bush and new bloom avidly. He laughed. Faith looked over and smiled. She really liked his deep, booming laugh. “She’s like a hyperactive bee out there sniffing those bushes,” he said.
“I didn’t call her Topsy-Turvy for nothing,” Faith said wryly, setting out napkins and forks for them. “Are you a mind reader?” she asked a few seconds later as she sat at the breakfast nook and unwrapped her sandwich. “This is my favorite from the City Deli,” she said, grinning and picking up the vegetarian sandwich. “How did you know?”