Surprise Delivery

by Susan Mallery

  Jim held the office door open for her, then walked inside after her. “You look tired.”

  Heather had tried to cover the dark circles under her eyes with makeup, but obviously she hadn’t been successful. “Diane hasn’t been sleeping much at all.”

  “You don’t have to come into work if you’re not getting any rest.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.”

  *

  A week later, Jim knocked on Heather’s door. Even from the front porch he could hear Diane’s cries. He waited patiently, then knocked a second time. Finally, he heard the lock turn and Heather peered out.

  When she saw him, she gave a weak smile. “Why did I know it had to be you?”

  “You haven’t been to work in three days. I know you’re exhausted and I came by to see if I could help.” He held up two grocery bags. “I brought food.”

  “Talk about a prince among men. Come on in.”

  He stepped inside. The living room was a little messier than usual, but otherwise it looked fine. He wished he could say the same for Heather. Weariness dulled her eyes. The shadows underneath were darker than he remembered and there were hollows in her cheeks. She wore sweats and a T-shirt, but the shapeless garments couldn’t hide the fact that she’d lost weight—something she couldn’t afford to do.

  “So you haven’t been eating, either,” he said.

  “I know.” She walked up and down the length of the living room, holding her crying daughter.

  “How long have you been carrying her around?” he asked as he went into the kitchen and began putting the groceries away.

  “Days. I mean that literally,” she called after him. “I don’t think either of us has slept in the past forty-eight hours. Before that, she was crying for three or four hours straight. I figure I’ve only got another week of this left, but it’s hard to get through.”

  Jim paused in the act of sliding milk into the refrigerator. Had that been a break he’d heard in her voice? He quickly closed the door and returned to the living room.

  “I’m trying to be a good mother,” she said, her voice suddenly thick with tears. “I want to do the right thing, but I don’t know how to make her feel better or help her get some sleep.” She sniffed.

  Jim couldn’t help staring at her. In all the time he’d known Heather, she never complained, never whined and certainly never cried. The only tears he’d seen had been tears of joy after Diane was born. And she was strong. She’d even stayed calm while giving birth in an elevator assisted only by a stranger who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. He liked giving things to her and helping out, but mostly because it made him feel better. He never thought of her as being in need.

  “You’re crying,” he said.

  She sniffed again, then wiped her cheek with her arm. “No, I’m not. I’ve been walking so much my eyeballs are sweating. I don’t cry. I’m not some weak, mindless female. I’m tough and independent. I’m fine. We’re both fine.” The volume of Diane’s cries went up a notch. Heather moaned. “Someone please tell me what to do.”

  He didn’t have any answers so he did the only thing he could think of. He walked over to her and took the baby. Then, with his free hand, he hugged Heather close. “It’s going to be all right,” he murmured against her soft, sweet-smelling hair. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here.”

  “But I don’t want to depend on you.”

  “You’re not. You’re borrowing me for a short period of time. There’s a difference.”

  “But I can’t do that. It’s—” She froze in his arms. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

  He listened. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “I know. She’s quiet. She must have missed you.”

  Jim glanced down and saw that Diane had fallen asleep in his arms.

  “Don’t move,” Heather breathed.

  “I can’t stand here forever.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll put her down. If she wakes up while I’m doing that, I’ll take responsibility for getting her quiet again.”

  He moved slowly into Diane’s room and put the sleeping baby into her crib. Diane stirred and snuffled, but she didn’t wake up. He straightened and turned, then saw Heather leaning against the door frame.

  Light from the living room spilled into the hall and illuminated her from behind. She looked slight and tired, but still beautiful. Even without makeup and in an old T-shirt and sweats. He wanted her at that moment as much as he’d ever wanted her. But he’d grown used to ignoring the desire, so he walked out of the room and closed the door behind them, all without saying a word.

  “Go take a shower,” he told her, wishing he could be the one doing that instead. Fifteen minutes in icy water just might take away his need for her. At least temporarily. “After that, you can take a nap. I’ll watch Diane and walk with her if she wakes up.”

  Heather closed her eyes and sighed. “A shower. That would be fantastic.” She was already heading across the hall to her bedroom. “I’ll only be ten minutes.”

  “Take your time,” Jim called, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if it was one minute or an hour. The entire situation was torture.

  He returned to the living room, turned on the television and started flipping through channels. Nothing caught his attention, so he turned off the machine. As much as he wanted to pretend otherwise, he was stuck, so he might as well give in. He leaned back, closed his eyes and thought about Heather…naked…and dripping wet, then wished he was brave enough, or stupid enough, to join her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Heather tilted her head back to let the hot water rinse her hair. It was just exhaustion, perhaps physical, mental or both. It was the phase of the moon. It was the fact that no man had the right to look so incredible in a pair of jeans. It was…insane, she decided at last, turning under the spray. She absolutely, positively, could not start something with Jim. They were too different. They wanted different things.

  She paused and stared blankly at the white tiles in front of her. Actually, she wasn’t sure what either of them wanted, but if she did know, they would be different. Besides, they both did want one thing, and that was not to get involved. No relationship, no romantic entanglement, no man-woman thing messing up a perfectly good life. So why was she standing here in her shower thinking about doing the wild thing with the man sitting in her living room?

  She turned off the water and slid open the glass door. After grabbing her towel, she started drying herself. It was fine to want him, she told herself. Wanting was acceptable. Everyone had an imagination. The fact that hers had been working overtime lately was interesting news but not life changing. She could fantasize and daydream and wish as long as she didn’t do anything about it.

  She and Jim couldn’t become lovers. For one thing, she didn’t know if he was interested, although based on their kiss, she thought he might be. For another, they already had a nearly perfect relationship and why would she want to risk ruining that? And there was her three-strikes rule—she should know better than to get involved. He would be way too easy for her to fall for. Although if it was simply about physical intimacy and not about falling in love, then—

  “Stop it,” Heather said aloud. She toweled her hair, then wrapped the thick cotton around her body, tucked in the corner to keep it in place and moved to the mirror. “I’m not going to do anything about this. I’ll get dressed, go out there and have a normal conversation with him. Just the way I have a thousand times before. Nothing is different. We can’t do this.”

  As she stared at her reflection, she saw the wanting in her eyes. She did want him, and in her tired, vulnerable state, it would be difficult to keep that knowledge to herself. The truth was she wanted Jim in her bed. Their kiss had been incredible and she wanted to feel that passion again. She’d had three lovers in her life and knew what it was like to be with a man. She understood and had ex
perienced pleasure, but she’d never been on fire before. She wanted to know how it would feel to have those flames everywhere. She wanted Jim’s strong hands on her body, touching her, taking her places she’d never been. She trusted him—how could she not? He was a wonderful man.

  Heather combed her hair, then quickly dried it with the blow-dryer. After smoothing on tinted moisturizer, she used a little mascara and stepped back. What if it wasn’t emotional? she wondered. What if it was just about two friends sharing incredible, sinus-clearing sex? Wasn’t their relationship strong enough to handle that? Couldn’t they have the best of both worlds—a warm, caring relationship and physical intimacy without all the messy romantic junk? Was she brave enough to try to find out?

  In her heart of hearts, she knew Jim would never make a move on her. Which meant she had to be the one to initiate anything. What if he said no? Would she die from the rejection? She drew in a deep breath. The answer to that last question was certainly no. Embarrassment only felt like dying, but nothing really happened. If he said no, well, she would pick herself up and get on with her life. Worse things had happened.

  She went into her bedroom and tried to figure out what to put on. Something sexy? Something casual? Panic tightened her stomach. If only she knew if he really wanted her.

  She walked to her dresser, pulled open every drawer, then closed them one after the other. “Maybe I’ll just arrange myself artfully on the bed,” she muttered. “After a couple of hours, he’ll get worried and come check on me. If I’m naked, he might get the picture.”

  Of course, he might take one look at her bony body and run screaming into the night.

  *

  Jim threw down the baby magazine. In the past twenty minutes, he’d forgotten how to read. That was the only explanation why the words danced around the page like so much gibberish. He’d already tried pacing, but all that did was bring him way too close to Heather’s bedroom door. Which made him think about opening it, stepping inside and joining her in her shower. Which made him break out into a cold sweat. He was hard and ready and tense and he just wanted to get the hell out of here.

  What was wrong with him? He’d been in the house with Heather dozens of times. Sure he’d always wanted her, but the needing had been controlled. Something had happened and he couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was the shower, the image of her naked body, slick and—

  Her bedroom door opened. Jim bit back a curse. He hoped she didn’t ask him to move for the next several minutes because there was no way he could stand up without her getting an eyeful of his aroused state. He would think about something else, something calming and not the least bit sexual. Tractors, or helicopters. That was it. He would mentally review his inventory and try to remember what parts needed reordering. He knew he was out of—

  “Jim?”

  Steeling himself against the inevitable, he glanced up. And sucked in a breath. If he hadn’t been sitting, he would have fallen on his butt for sure.

  Heather stood in the doorway to the living room. She wore a short, white terry-cloth robe. A very short robe that belted at the waist and plunged low enough to expose a generous expanse of cleavage. With a certainty he couldn’t explain, he knew she was naked under that robe. Naked except for the sweet scent of her perfume.

  His body tightened to the point where he thought he was certain to explode. He couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. His hands clenched into fists. He wanted her more desperately than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life.

  For one brief, wild moment he thought she might be coming on to him. Hope flared, then winked out as quickly. Heather would never do that. Not that he wouldn’t want her to, but she wasn’t aggressive and she saw him more as a big brother than as a lover. Didn’t she? Weren’t they both telling each other that they couldn’t get involved? He knew he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her or needing her with a desperation that left him immobilized.

  “Did you need something?” he said, his voice thick and hoarse.

  Her mouth curved in a smile. “What an interesting choice of words. As a matter of fact, I do need something.”

  Was there a leak in the shower? A blocked sink? A spider in her bedroom?

  Then she started walking toward him. He couldn’t have said what was different, but he instantly understood the message. Maybe it was the sway of her hips, or the slight thrust of her chin, or the way she led with her chest. In that second, he knew she wasn’t looking for help with a plumbing crisis. She wanted a man. More specifically, she wanted him.

  The realization added to his desire until he thought he might choke. He watched her come to a stop in front of him and draw in a breath.

  “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she admitted quietly.

  Her soft hair fluttered around her face and she tucked a loose strand behind her ear. He noticed that her fingers trembled.

  “We’re both consenting adults,” she continued. “Neither of us is interested in a traditional, romantic relationship. Neither of us wants to get involved. But that kiss was pretty amazing, and I can’t help wondering how the rest of it would be. So I thought, if you were interested, we could find out.”

  Color stained her cheeks, but she held her ground in front of him. He tried to speak, but his throat had tightened to the point where he couldn’t even breathe, let alone talk. Images flashed through his brain. Of them together, naked, making love. Just like he’d pictured when she first went into the shower. Only this time he could see those tangled legs and touching bodies and know that it was really going to happen. She wanted him. She wanted him.

  Heather took a quick step back. “Okay, so I read this all wrong.” She ducked her head and turned away. “You probably want to leave now, and I think you should. The earth is not cooperating by opening up and swallowing me, despite my frantic requests that it do so. It would be—”

  “No!” he said urgently as her words sank into his brain. He sprang to his feet, moved toward her and spun her to face him. “I want you. Desperately. I’m just having a little trouble thinking that you want me in the same way.” His hands tightened on her shoulders as he stared into her eyes. Some of the embarrassment faded from her lovely face. “Tell me you’re naked under this,” he said.

  “As a jaybird.”

  A shudder rippled through him. He groaned aloud, then pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers.

  As far as kisses went, it was as amazing as Heather remembered. The warm pressure of his lips against hers set every nerve ending in her body to dancing. Heat flared all over, although the most interesting was the damp heat between her legs. Even before his tongue tenderly swept inside her mouth, she could feel the rush of dampness as her body readied itself for his masculine assault.

  Her arms came up around his neck. As she stepped closer, he pulled her to him, grabbing her waist, then dropping lower to her rear. She was flush against him, her breasts flattening against his chest, his erection straining against her belly. Their heads tilted and he plunged deeper into her mouth. She stroked his tongue with her own. Over and under and around in ever-changing sensations of rough and smooth, while she savored the familiar, sweet taste of him.

  She inhaled the scent of his body, a scent she would know always. There would be no problem finding this man in the dark. She touched his cool silky hair, then moved her hands down his broad back. Muscles tightened in response to her touch. He responded in kind, moving his hands up and down until his palms brushed past the hem of her short robe and touched the bare skin on the backs of her thighs. Instantly, his hardness flexed and they both groaned.

  He broke the kiss and stared at her, his blue eyes dark and stormy with a male hunger that made her bones melt. As she watched him watching her, he slipped under her robe and delicately traced the curves of her rear. He moved up the side of her hips, then back and down, cupping and squeezing. His fingertips both tickled and aroused, and she didn’t know whether to laugh and duck away or beg for more.


  An ache began between her thighs. It pulsed in time with her rapid heartbeat. She wanted to drop to the floor, spread her legs and beg him to take her right there. Then he gripped her rear firmly and raised her. She gave a little hop to help him. He lifted her in the air, pulling her against him as he did. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her toward her bed.

  She squeezed her thighs, pressing herself harder against him, wanting him to touch her more intimately. The thick denim, double layered over the fly, kept her from really feeling him, and she had to bite back a cry of disappointment.

  “I want you, Jim,” she murmured against his ear. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, his jaw. She licked the faint rasp of stubble and bit the edge of his jaw.

  He swore, a sharp word that made her giggle.

  “Yes, that is what we’re going to do,” she teased.

  He paused in front of her bed. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he growled. “I want you, too. More than you’ll ever know. But hearing you talk about it and feeling you against me, not to mention the kissing, is making me about ready to explode.” His eyes blazed with fire. “I refuse to embarrass myself like that.”

  It had never occurred to her that she could bring this strong, incredible man to his knees. Power filled her. Feminine strength and purpose that had her lifting her hips so that she could rub more firmly against him.

  He sucked in a breath. Then he was kneeling on the bed. She released her grip and slid down to the mattress. As she did so, her robe fell open. Jim’s gaze dropped to her pale breasts, swollen from breast-feeding, then to her narrow rib cage and her stomach, once again flat but now marred by stretch marks.

  Heather had to fight not to close her eyes. She knew he would see the jutting hip bones, the skinny legs, the bony shoulders, her small breasts….

  He bent over and kissed her, his tongue sweeping inside and brushing against her own. When he withdrew, he trailed kisses down her jaw to her ear. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, then nibbled on her earlobe. Tendrils of fire curled through her, all the way down to her toes. “Everything about you is exactly as it should be. I love your delicate slenderness and your smooth, pale skin. Even the marks from your pregnancy are precious. You are perfect in every way, and I want you.”