He looked a little dangerous, she thought, and a lot dashing with the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He was all rumpled, sleepy, sex appeal, and an unmistakable tug on her heart made her hope this was the last time she would find him here.
His eyelids flickered and he stretched, then suddenly sat up when he saw her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” In the physical sense that was true because there was no more cramping. But emotionally she was a mess.
“You’re not supposed to be on your feet. Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” she admitted, admiring the expanse of broad male chest covered with a dusting of dark hair.
“I’ll make breakfast. Go back to bed,” he ordered.
After three days she knew resistance was futile, so she went back to bed. Before long the smell of eggs, turkey sausage, potatoes and toast drifted to her. Over her protests he’d grocery shopped and stocked her pantry. She had to admit the delicious aromas made her mouth water.
Then Nathan appeared in her doorway. He’d dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but his feet were still bare, his hair rumpled and the stubble unshaved. He held a food-filled tray, and she held in an appreciative sigh. Her mouth was watering, but it had nothing to do with the food.
“Breakfast is served.” He set the tray on her legs and started to leave.
“Can I talk to you, Nathan?”
“Sure.” The bed dipped from his weight when he sat on the edge, just inches from her leg. “What’s up?”
“This isn’t working.”
He frowned. “I can make something else for breakfast—”
“No. I mean this arrangement. You have to be exhausted from not having a bed to sleep in.”
“I have to admit I’m not lovin’ the love seat.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Sort of. She had to convince him to go away. “And I don’t need you hovering over me. I haven’t had any more cramping. So, really, you can go back to your place.”
“I’d like that,” he agreed. Much too easily. “On one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You come, too.” He must have seen her start to protest because he held up a hand. “It has more room and everyone would have an actual bed to sleep in.”
“Don’t think I’m not appreciative because I am.” Except for her family and three best friends, no one had ever been there for her like this. “But this is my home.”
“Okay. No problem.” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “Maybe I’ll pick up an air mattress. My mother will understand why I’m not at the house.”
“Your mother?”
“She dropped in unexpectedly. She does that sometimes,” he said.
“You should go be with her. No need to babysit me.”
A gleam slid into his eyes. “Actually, you’d be doing me a big favor if you moved in. Mom and I could use a buffer.”
“You’re not close?”
His mouth pulled tight. “She has her own interests.”
Shouldn’t her interests include being with her son? None of her business, Cindy thought. “I wouldn’t want to intrude. It would be such an inconvenience.”
“Look, Cindy, I’m serious about Mom and me needing someone to take the edge off. But here’s the bottom line. You and I both want the baby to be healthy. That depends on your ability to stay off your feet and reduce your stress level. I intend to make that happen. Where it happens is up to you.”
She knew when to say when. Stalemate. Impasse. Someone had to blink, and apparently it would be her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him being completely exhausted because she was too stubborn to compromise. There were other babies and parents depending on him.
“All right,” she said. “Your place it is.”
Nathan pulled into the driveway of his really big house before Cindy had time to process that she’d actually agreed to move in with him. He’d packed her things and wouldn’t let her lift a finger, which was seven different kinds of sweet.
Now here they were. Parked beside a BMW SUV in his driveway. It was a reminder that he already had a guest. Her stomach clenched.
“Did you tell your mother about the baby? Does she know you’re bringing me here?”
“Yes.” He pulled the keys from the ignition, then looked at her. “And yes.”
“Good.” At least there wouldn’t be that awkward moment where she had to stand quietly by while he explained the unexplainable.
When she started to get out of the car, he said, “Stay put. You’re not supposed to be on your feet.”
“Then how am I going to get inside?”
A shimmy of anticipation danced up her spine when she remembered him sweeping her into his arms to carry her inside at her house. But the romantic notion dissolved when he emerged from the front door pushing a wheelchair.
“Be still my heart.” Cindy wondered what kind of damage was done when a romantic fool dropped back to earth. But she sat in the chair.
It was a beautiful June day and already getting hot, so the cool air that washed over her when he pushed her inside felt good. When her eyes adjusted from bright sun to the dim interior, she saw that travertine tile went on forever in the entryway. There were high ceilings with crown molding and pale wheat-colored walls.
An older but very attractive woman walked into the entryway. She was tall and slender with a short brunette bob. Her eyes were hazel, and it was obvious that Nathan got his coloring from his mother. And his fashion sense. Her white capris were crisp and spotless. The black and white striped silk blouse was trendy and fitted. Even her sandals coordinated with the summer ensemble.
“So here you are,” she said, her eyes narrowing on Cindy.
Nathan’s voice came from behind the wheelchair. “Shirley, this is Cindy Elliott. Cindy, Shirley Steele, my mother.”
They shook hands and Cindy felt at a disadvantage in the chair. Even standing she would be shorter, but at least she wouldn’t have been loomed over.
Nathan leaned down. “I’m going to get your things out of the car and put them in the guest room.”
Moments later he walked inside with her two suitcases then disappeared down the hall. He returned and glanced at his watch. “I have to get to the hospital. Shirley, will you get Cindy settled?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be back later.” He looked down at her with a warning expression on his face. “Take it easy.”
Nothing about this was easy to take, especially being left alone with his mother. But he walked out the door and it was just the two of them.
Cindy didn’t know how to be anything but direct. She got up from the chair and met the other woman’s gaze. “This pregnancy was an accident.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I didn’t even want to go out with him.”
“Technically one doesn’t have to actually go out for something like this to happen,” Shirley commented, her tone guarded. “But why did you? Go out with him.”
“He was relentless and I said yes to get him out of my life.”
“Yet here you are in his home. So we can see how well that worked.”
“I didn’t want to move in.” Cindy refused to look away, even though that’s what she desperately wanted to do. “But he’s so darn stubborn and he wouldn’t leave me alone. He’s exhausted and the only way he’s going to get any rest is for me to stay here. That’s the truth.”
“All right then. Nathan is a grown man and knows what he’s doing.” Shirley glanced over her shoulder. “I take it you know your way around?”
“Actually, I’ve never been here before.” Cindy stopped there, not wanting to explain the one-night stand at her house.
The older woman looked just the tiniest bit surprised when she asked, “Would you like a tour?”
“Are you going to make me use that stupid chair?” Cindy glared at the thing.
“I think that’s about my son being overly cautious. Stay off your feet means don’t do the trampoline or go bunge
e jumping, not be an invalid.”
Cindy nodded. “I think so, too.”
“All right then. Follow me.” Shirley turned and started walking away. “This place has five bedrooms and a guest house. That’s where I stay.”
Interesting. Nathan didn’t really need her to be a buffer between him and his mom. There was plenty of space for the two to peacefully coexist. This house was big enough for its own zip code.
Cindy noted that the living and dining rooms were separated by the wide entryway and filled with dark cherry wood furniture and fabrics in earth tones. White plantation shutters covered the windows. The family room was right off the kitchen and had a fireplace on one wall. A huge leather corner group sat in front of a gigantic flat-screen TV.
“My whole house would fit in this room,” Cindy said, still in awe.
“The bedrooms are down this hall,” Shirley said.
She pointed out the master bedroom at the back of the house, and Cindy politely glanced through the doorway, although it felt like invading Nathan’s privacy. The room was huge, with a king-size bed across from a sunken conversation area and fireplace. A little twinge that could be jealousy told her it was best not to think about all the women who’d no doubt “conversed” in here with him.
Across the hall there were two more bedrooms connected by a bath. Her suitcases were visible in the first room.
“This is where you’ll stay.” Shirley walked through the bathroom into the connecting bedroom. “This gets the morning sun. And there’s that charming window seat. I think this would make a wonderful nursery.”
Cindy glanced at the L-shaped desk with the computer on top. There was an eight-foot couch and a wing chair in another corner. Clearly it was set up as an office.
“It would certainly work. But I’m not staying here permanently,” Cindy protested.
“But you and Nathan will share custody.”
It wasn’t a question except in Cindy’s mind. If she had to judge by her experience, Nathan wouldn’t be around long enough to share custody or anything else. But telling his mother that didn’t seem appropriate.
“I believe children should know both of their parents,” Cindy said diplomatically. “If at all possible.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because I’ve jotted down some ideas for a mural in here.” Shirley picked up a sketch pad from the desk. “Would you like to see?”
It felt a little weird, but, “Okay.” She looked at the drawings of cuddly zoo animals on the first page. “These are too cute.”
“Those are generic,” Shirley explained. “The next page is cars, fire trucks, airplanes. Boy stuff. Then there’s the sports-themed sketches. Followed by fairy tale characters and princess pictures. Nathan can make a decision when he finds out the sex of the baby.”
“These are really good.” Pretty amazing, really.
She flipped through the pages, each set of sketches more impressive than the last. Knowing whether the child was a boy or girl would narrow down themes, but they were all so adorable, making a decision wouldn’t be easy.
“You’re incredibly artistic,” she said.
“Not really. I just had lots of time to practice.” Shirley’s pleased expression instantly disappeared.
Cindy felt guilty because it was the first time the other woman had smiled and something she’d said had made the warmth dissolve. “You have a lot of natural talent. I don’t think practice alone would be enough to do this.”
“It is if you have the time. My husband left me.” She shrugged. “Because I wasn’t being a wife, I had a lot of time to work on other, creative endeavors.”
But you were a mother, Cindy wanted to say. If the marriage wasn’t working, why didn’t this woman’s time and energy get channeled into the young son who must have been hurt and confused about his deteriorating family? She’d never understood before how priceless her carefree childhood had been but kept the revelation to herself. In fact, she didn’t know what to say.
But not saying anything made this more awkward than watching Nathan explain their complicated association to his mother.
Shirley must have felt it, too. “I’ve kept you on your feet too long. You should rest.”
Alone, Cindy walked back into the room where she’d be staying. The bed was queen-size, covered with a floral quilt and a striped bed skirt in green and white. A tufted bench sat at the foot with her suitcases resting on top. There was an oak dresser with a mirror over it and matching nightstands. Very comfortable and should have been cheerful.
Cindy remembered what Nathan had said about being an unaccompanied minor. She’d assumed both of his parents had demanding careers, but that wasn’t the case. He was a handsome doctor, brilliant and wealthy. Yet she felt sorry for him. And that was stupid. It could potentially weaken the hard crust around her feelings. And that would be a disaster.
If she made it through this pregnancy and delivered a healthy baby, it would be in no small part because of Nathan’s support at this traumatic time. She would be forever grateful to him, but they were having a baby, not a relationship. That’s the only reason she was living in his house.
The emotional health of her heart depended on remembering that.
Chapter Nine
Cindy had always thought that leather belonged on animals, not furniture, but that was before she’d experienced Nathan’s decor. All afternoon she’d been relaxing on his family room corner group. The cushy feel of the soft leather had changed her opinion. And the TV wasn’t bad either. It had to be at least a seventy-five-inch screen. In her tiny house it would be too big, but this room accommodated it perfectly.
“So size does matter,” she said to herself.
She was watching an old chick flick starring Steve McQueen and Natalie Wood. The TV was so big and clear she could see practically every pore in the actress’s flawless face.
Glancing at her watch, she realized it was after seven. Shirley was out and Nathan hadn’t returned from the hospital. She was getting hungry and wondered whether to go digging into his provisions. Mi casa, su casa, he had said. Before she could decide, the front door opened and closed, then he walked in lugging plastic bags of groceries in both hands.
“Hi,” she said. “Need some help?”
“This is everything.” His eyes narrowed on her. “And you’re here because of questions like that. Your job right now is to carry nothing heavier than the TV remote.”
“Then you should be proud because today I totally rocked this remote control. It got an excellent workout.”
He carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on the granite-covered island in the center. While he unloaded them, he asked, “How do you feel?”
She muted the TV sound before answering. “Good. Normal. No more pains. Not even a hint of a cramp.”
“Excellent.”
“I’m thinking it’s okay to go back to work.”
He was putting a box into the pantry and turned to stare at her. “Your doctor advised you to rest for several weeks.”
“But I feel fine.”
“That’s great. And we want to keep it that way. So just relax and go with it.” He closed the cupboard door. “Where’s Shirley?”
“Astrology class. She was going to skip it and stay with me, but I talked her into going.” He didn’t respond and she added, “You don’t seem surprised.”
“I’m not. Shirley keeps busy.”
“She showed me some sketches for a mural in the baby’s room.”
“Oh?” He put bananas in a cobalt blue pottery bowl on the island.
“They’re really good ideas—for either a boy or girl. She’s quite an artist.”
“Shirley’s had a lot of practice.”
“That’s exactly what she said,” Cindy informed him.
She was looking for some kind of clue as to how he felt about that, but he gave her no reaction, as if he’d perfected not reacting. And really that information was need-to-know. She didn’t need to. Nathan’s relati
onship with his mother was none of her business. But the fact that he called her Shirley spoke volumes.
When the silence stretched between them, she asked, “So what’s in the bags?”
He wadded up the empty ones and threw them in the trash. “Nothing now. But I got you peanut butter and jelly.”
She wanted to go all mushy inside from the gesture but held back. “What kind?”
“Crunchy. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, but how can anyone not like crunchy?”
“Sound logic,” she approved. “And jelly?”
“That was a tougher decision. I fell back on personality.”
“How so?” She sat up straighter and tucked her legs to the side.
“Strawberry seemed way too cheerful, so I went with grape.”
“You think I’m more sour grapes?”
He rested his hands on the counter separating the two rooms. “Am I wrong?”
“I think I’m a peach of a person,” she said.
“If you don’t like grape, I’ll go back to the store and get peach.”
“No. Grape’s my favorite.”
But how gallant of him to make another trip. Her heart gave an odd little skip that she hoped was about her “delicate condition.” The warm, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach could be nothing more than normal for a pregnant woman. One could hope, anyway.
“What else did you get at the store?” she asked.
“Lots of healthy stuff. Fruit. Vegetables.”
“I don’t like broccoli.” She rested an elbow on the arm of the sofa.
“Then you don’t have to eat any. And in case you weren’t kidding about the cravings, I got pickles and ice cream.”
She’d never been much of an ice cream addict, but suddenly the idea of it made her mouth water. “What kind of ice cream? And please don’t say Rocky Road to complement my difficult personality.”
He grinned. “Cookies and cream.”
“Sounds yummy.”
“I’m sensing symptoms of hunger. What else tempts your appetite?” he asked.
“Peanut butter and banana.”
“Coming right up,” he said without hesitation or editorializing.
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