Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  “And that,” he said as he walked to where she stood, “is quite the pity.”

  She sniffed in faux annoyance. Because the easy manner in which he spoke told her he was serious. And for Logan to witness her late-pregnancy irritable nature and the immense—and Lord, sometimes noisy—changes in her body and still find her attractive enough to consider sex as a pleasurable option... That offered her a great deal of satisfaction. And naturally, his attention was flattering. Made her feel less like a...a hippopotamus and more like her pre-pregnancy self.

  Not that she had any interest in sex. How could she, when she had to pee every freaking fifteen to twenty minutes, had incessant heartburn and seemed to exist in a foggy, continually drained haze? Half the time, she considered herself lucky if she remembered to brush her hair, and she’d completely given up on shaving her legs. Too awkward to manage, and in her current state, she just did not care if her legs were fuzzy.

  So, yes, that Logan could look at her and even think of sex seemed rather incredible.

  Though she’d really, really like them to settle on a name soon. It bothered Anna, not knowing what they were going to call their daughter, and she wanted—if nothing else—to have a list of three or four ready to go for when their daughter was born. Then it would simply be a matter of choosing whichever one seemed best suited.

  “What’s your mother’s middle name?” she asked Logan as they walked toward the front door of the building. Well. He walked. She waddled. “And your grandmother’s, actually.”

  “Would you believe me if I said Mom’s is Xena and Grandma’s is Flash?”

  “My brain isn’t that far gone. Nice try, though.”

  He sighed. “Carla Valentina and Rosalie Camila,” he said, apparently done with the teasing. “What was your mom’s full name? And if we’re considering naming our daughter after important women in our lives, we shouldn’t forget your aunt. Lola...what?”

  “Um. Mom was Ruby Louise, and my aunt is Lola Elizabeth.”

  “All good names, sweetheart.” Logan opened the door but stepped in front of her to block the entrance. In a ridiculously loud voice, he said, “Looks like I didn’t have the wrong weekend, Anna! There is a craft fair here today, Anna!”

  Perhaps if she hadn’t had to pee so darn bad, if her brain hadn’t become the consistency of oatmeal and if she hadn’t been so focused on possible names, she might have caught on to Logan’s odd behavior. But wow, she did have to pee, and her brain hadn’t functioned properly in weeks, and truly, she was a bit obsessed with finding the perfect name, so she didn’t catch on.

  At all. “Good, I guess?” She shoved at his back to push him through the doorway so she could find the bathroom. He did not budge. “Oh my God, move! I have to pee. Right now!”

  So he did, indeed, move. Thank goodness.

  And she walked into a room where there was not, by any means, a craft fair taking place. There were tables and people and balloons and... What was this? She would have got there, she was sure, given another ten seconds, but before her pregnancy-addled brain could add two plus two and arrive at the correct answer of four, she heard, “Surprise!”

  Sadly, it still took her a second, but then she noted the many pink-wrapped gifts, a table loaded down with a mountain of food and a white-and-pink-frosted cake.

  “Oh!” She looked at Logan. “You...you skunk! This isn’t a craft fair!”

  “It’s your baby shower,” he said, bending over and giving her a quick kiss. “Planned by your sister-in-law and aunt. Their cars are in the back parking lot. I worried you and your eagle eyes would notice and figure all of this out.”

  “Um. No,” she said. “I was too distracted to notice.”

  “And I have to point out,” he said with that trademark smile, “that I told you we had plenty of time to prepare for our daughter’s arrival. Whatever you don’t get today, we’ll buy this week, and our daughter will have every last thing she needs. I promise.”

  Anna’s aunt rushed forward, followed by Haley and her mother, Margaret, and the rest of the women from the Foster family—the spouses of the three Foster brothers—plus several women she worked with, a few of the Beanery’s regulars and a couple of friends from her high school days, all of them chattering and happy and excited. For her. For this baby.

  And for a solid thirty seconds, Anna forgot about her full bladder, her Swiss cheese brain and everything else. Because, you know, she had to cry. Just had to.

  * * *

  Standing in the doorway to what was now his daughter’s nursery, Logan took in the work that he, Gavin and Haley’s brothers—Reid, Dylan and Cole—had accomplished. Unfortunately, the entire process had taken hours longer than anticipated, despite his precise planning. But they’d managed to finish, and the rest of the men had just left. Now Logan was waiting for Anna to come home. So he could surprise her for the second time today.

  He hoped—prayed, really—that she liked what they’d done.

  Over the past several weeks, he’d paid real close attention whenever she mentioned anything baby related or when she’d ask his opinion on a crib or rocking chair or what have you she’d found online. Anything they hadn’t discussed, he used his best judgment on, believing he knew her well enough to accurately predict her preferences. Not only that, but he had this silly, fanciful wish for his baby girl. And in the end, he trusted that instinct the most and followed it through. But yeah, he worried he’d made a mistake somewhere.

  Throughout all of the prior week, he’d gone through Anna’s bedroom whenever she was at work, trying to prep the best he could without her noticing. And the second Anna and he left the house this morning, Gavin and the Foster brothers had arrived with every piece of furniture and every accessory Logan had bought, all of which had been shipped to his brother’s place.

  They’d proceeded to clear out the bedroom fully by moving the bedroom furniture to the garage and her belongings to his room, and then they painted the walls. The color he’d chosen was a warm, pale green, and he thought it looked real nice.

  Hard to describe the exact shade, though. It wasn’t nearly as gray as sage, nor was it as whispery light as sea foam. Logan had smartly chosen a quicker-drying paint, and the guys had worked fast and efficiently. By the time Logan returned from dropping off Anna at her shower, they were able to—cautiously—put together the rest of the nursery.

  Along the only full wall sat the crib. Painted white with pink accents and shaped like a fantasy carriage—the type Cinderella went to her ball in—the crib was the pièce de résistance of the entire room and, without doubt, was fit for a princess. He’d placed the rocking chair—the one his grandma had rocked her kids in and his mother had rocked him in—across from the crib, angled outward from the corner next to the window. Over the back of the chair, he’d folded a chenille throw blanket that would keep Anna and his daughter warm.

  A large, heavy-duty patchwork-style rug covered most of the floor, its colors ranging from baby pink to a deep rose, with splashes of muted greens, blues and yellows. He hadn’t been able to hang the pictures on the newly painted walls yet, but so Anna could see, he laid them out on the floor in front of the crib. Going with the fantasy-inspired theme, the prints were of fairies and pixies, depicting them flying and playing amid brightly colored flowers and trees, and—of all things—drinking tea at tiny mushroom tables. He’d hang them in the next day or two.

  Resting alongside the rocking chair was the changing table, also painted white, and next to that, the small but sturdy dresser. None of the shelves or drawers was filled yet, but he sort of thought Anna would prefer to do that herself. And well...that was about it, other than the stuffed teddy bear they’d purchased on that long-ago day.

  For the moment, Mr. Teddy was making himself at home in the crib, right on top of the pink baby quilt. And the other two toys—the doll and fire truck—were in
the closet. He’d considered showing off the antique humidor-now-a-jewelry-box by putting it on the dresser but decided to wait until he could have it inscribed, which couldn’t happen until they had a name.

  Pleased with the results, Logan nodded and turned off the light, closed the door. God. He hoped he’d done justice to this room his daughter would spend her first year of life in. He hoped Anna would understand what had compelled him to decorate the room as he had. And yeah, he hoped Anna wouldn’t be disappointed that he’d gone and done all of this without her assistance.

  If she was...well, he’d tear the entire room apart and start fresh.

  Antsy now, wondering what was taking so long—Haley was driving Anna home and had called a good thirty minutes ago to say they were on their way—Logan stalked the living room. Oh, hell. What if she hated everything? Maybe he should’ve gone with the Disney theme or the ladybugs. They’d been bright and happy and awfully cute, and he’d—

  A car door slammed outside. This was it.

  Logan hightailed it to the sofa, grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, put his feet up on the coffee table. And gave his best impression of a relaxed man enjoying some time to himself. The sound of Haley and Anna chatting outside let him know they were close, and that was when he noticed the guys had left the paint cans about three feet in front of the damn door, meaning there was no way Anna wouldn’t see them.

  Cursing, he leaped off the sofa and crossed the room, grabbed a can with each hand and—damn it, they were just on the other side of the door—ran to the kitchen, opened the cupboard under the sink and... Really? No way would two paint cans fit in there.

  He darted a glance around the room and, seeing no other alternative, shoved them on top of the fridge, pushing them as far back as they would go and hoping if she happened to come in here before he had a chance to show her the nursery, she wouldn’t look up.

  Hearing the door open, Logan calmed his breathing and—since he couldn’t act nonchalant and laid back in front of the television—grabbed a beer from the fridge and was twisting off the cap when he entered the living room.

  “Hey there,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you home so soon.”

  “Soon?” Anna arched an eyebrow. “You dropped me off at...what?” She glanced toward Haley for confirmation. “Around eleven? It’s going on six o’clock, Logan.”

  “Somewhere around eleven, I think.” Haley, who actually looked more tired than Anna, twisted a long strand of auburn hair around her finger and said, “The shower lasted a lot longer than expected, and by the time we cleaned and moved everything to the car, it was after five.”

  Now, the true story was that Haley had phoned Gavin at two, asking how close they were to being finished, so she knew how long to delay. Probably, Anna had been chomping at the bit to come home by then, since she got crazy tired in the afternoon. And frankly, delaying his wife when her mind was set on something did not fall into the effortless category. Poor Haley.

  Feigning shock, Logan said, “Wow, really? I had no idea it had gotten so late. Guess I must have lost track of time, watching TV and... Well, I might have napped some, too. Since it was so quiet and peaceful in the house, being by myself and all.”

  “Oh, you napped, huh?” This came from his wife.

  “Yup. Probably a good two hours or so, I imagine.” Anna skewered him with a do-you-want-to-die-now-or-later sort of look, while Haley just narrowed her eyes. And he couldn’t resist hamming up his act a little more. So he yawned, stretched his arms over his head and said, “I gotta say, it was awfully nice having such a relaxing, kicked-back day.”

  “Well, then, since you’re rested up and all, why don’t you run out to Haley’s car and bring in the gifts? We popped the trunk before we came in, and there’s a bunch of stuff in the backseat to get, too,” Anna said. “She’s tired. I’m tired. Don’t even think of asking us to help.”

  Haley’s lips wiggled right into a grin. “Yes, please, Logan, because while I had a ton of fun today and do not regret a second of it, I did not have any idea how exhausting a five-and-a-half-hour baby shower would be! Especially since we planned for a three-hour timetable.”

  And that statement was directed toward him and the extra hours they’d required to finish the nursery. “Well, you know how it is. Every now and again, even the best plans can go awry. Sorry you two are so tired, though, and of course I’ll haul everything in.”

  “Thank you,” Haley said. “Anna and I will sit right here, in the living room, and rehash our long—but wonderful!—day. Like how Lola—” grasping Anna’s arm, she tugged her toward the sofa “—didn’t want to stop playing those games!”

  “Oh, God, I know,” Anna said, plopping down on the couch. “And for a woman who puts the Beanery in tip-top shape in the blink of an eye, she packed the food sooo slowly.”

  Assured that Haley would keep Anna occupied and his surprise a surprise, Logan hurriedly brought in the various boxes and bags that were stuffed in every spare inch of space in his sister-in-law’s car. It took three loaded trips in total, and when he was done, the coffee table, both chairs and a sizable portion of the floor were covered. Wow.

  Standing, Haley said, “Okay! I’m off for home. You guys have a good night.”

  “You...ah...don’t want to stick around awhile?” Logan asked, assuming she’d want to see the nursery. “It’s fine by both of us, especially with all you’ve done today.”

  “Oh no, I don’t think so. Better for you two to have some alone time before Anna faints from exhaustion.” Haley lifted her hand in a wave, gave Logan a big grin and let herself out.

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever been this tired,” Anna said with a yawn. “Do you mind waiting until tomorrow to unpack? I want to show you everything—especially the adorable, tiny clothes—but I cannot fathom where we’ll put all of this.”

  “I have a few ideas,” Logan said. “And sure, tomorrow is fine. Though it might be smart to move some of the boxes and bags to your room so we’re not tripping over them.”

  “Sure, you go right ahead and do that.” Anna whisked her hand in the air. “Me? Until I have to pee again, I’m not moving so much as an inch.”

  “Yeah, you are. Because you are going to help.” He grinned as her eyes rounded in shock. “Come on, Anna, up and at ’em, because as tired as you are now, you’ll be even more tired after the baby’s born. You’ll have to push through then, so you might as well start now.”

  “Are you serious? Because while I’m sure I’ll be tired as a new mom, I won’t be pregnant, and...” He pulled her, gently of course, to her feet. “Oh! What are you doing?”

  “Ascertaining that we aren’t living in a hazard zone for the next twenty-four hours,” he said with an easy grin. “Come on, grab a couple of those gift bags. The sooner we do this, the sooner you can be a couch potato. I’ll even rub your feet. Or your back. Your choice.”

  “Ha! You won’t be touching me for a long, long while. If ever!” Scowling viciously, she yanked two bags into her grasp and turned, heading for what she believed was her bedroom. “And if you seriously think I won’t smack you over the head with my cast-iron frying pan just because I haven’t done so yet, then you better think again!”

  Logan rounded the sofa and crept to the edge of the hallway, staying just out of Anna’s sight. The bags rustled against each other as she twisted the doorknob. He imagined her pushing open the door, flipping on the light switch. One. Two. Three...

  He heard the bags hit the floor—hopefully, they didn’t hold anything breakable—and then, in a voice barely loud enough to reach him, Anna said, “Logan?”

  “Yes, Anna?”

  “Can you come in here, please?”

  Hmm. Her voice was quiet. Calm. She did not sound mad. But she didn’t sound excited, either. And she certainly hadn’t shrieked in happiness. Probably, her reaction f
ell smack in the middle, and damn it, he had not aimed for lukewarm. He’d aimed for the sky.

  Firming his shoulders, he forced his leaden feet to carry him forward, to the nursery he’d put so much love into. Anna was sitting in the rocking chair, and a stream of silent, seemingly never-ending tears slid from her eyes, down the slopes of her cheeks and all the way to the narrow line of her jaw. Her shoulders didn’t shake. She didn’t gasp for air.

  This was Anna. In the purest, most tranquil, beautiful display of emotion he’d ever seen. And he knew, to the bottom of his heart, that she got it. That she understood the wish that had inspired their daughter’s nursery. She knew, because somehow, she knew him.

  “You created this room,” she said, her voice hushed. “This beautiful, whimsical, fanciful and perfect room, in order to give our baby girl a place to...dream.”

  “Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what I did.”

  In the next instant, Anna was on her feet and in his arms. Neither spoke, as words weren’t necessary. He held her and she held him, and as they stood there, locked together in the room their daughter would soon sleep in, soon dream in, Logan stopped denying the truth.

  He was in love. Fully and completely. With his wife, with Anna.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pressing her hand against the small of her back to ease the discomfort, Anna breathed a sigh of relief that her five-hour shift at the Beanery had less than thirty minutes remaining. Her ability to stand for long periods without suffering any ill effects had rapidly diminished. Now, with a mere four weeks to go until her due date, she considered herself lucky if she managed a full sixty minutes on her feet without having to sit down for ten.

  The midafternoon rush had just ended, leaving the coffeehouse in the rare state of being almost empty. Business would pick up again as late afternoon bled into evening, but she would be home by then, hopefully stretched out on the sofa with a pillow behind her back.

  Or maybe she’d sit in the oh-so-beautiful nursery and dream.