The Baby Consultant

by Anne Marie Winston

  “Come to your baby shower, Jack.” A plump little woman with deep dimples came forward and took his hand, winking at Frannie. “We thought you could use a little help getting ready for the baby, even if she did arrive first.”

  “You guys...you guys are really something.” Jack shook his head and scrubbed his free hand down over his face. She could tell he was touched; a tenderness seized her as he wiped away a tear. Only a man who was strong and secure could allow himself to shed a tear in front of other guys. She suspected he’d be teased later, but for now, the men coming forward to shake his hand and congratulate him on becoming a “father” wore genuinely kind expressions.

  Rats. Rats, rats, and more rats. A man who could let himself cry was the sexiest thing on earth. Although she’d never tell him that.

  “Did you know about this?” he demanded.

  “Of course not These people didn’t even know you’d be bringing me along.”

  “But we’re delighted to meet you.” The dimpled woman held out her hand as Jack was engulfed and guided over to the table. “Hi, I’m Tammy, the one who got drafted into organizing this party. Men are great at coming up with ideas, but they stink when it comes to details.” Her dimples dug deep grooves in her cheeks.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frannie.”

  “Oh, you’re the one!” Tammy turned and at the top of her considerable lungs, announced, “This is Frannie. She’s the one Jack’s been talking about.”

  “Ah-ha. The Mystery Woman.” A tall man whose bright blue shirt and aqua shorts told her who he was before he spoke, came over to lead her to a chair. “I’m Stu, your host.”

  The one he talked about? The mystery woman? She squirmed uncomfortably as what seemed like a thousand pairs of eyes assessed her. She knew he’d been grateful for her help, but she had no idea he’d told everyone in Butler County.

  As Jack’s friends and teammates included her in the circle of banter, she began to relax. These people were genuinely enjoyable. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.

  They ate and they lounged. Men told jokes and helped their wives referee spats between the various children bouncing around; mothers mopped up little faces. The team members told tales on each other, and before Frannie knew it, Tammy was passing out cake and directing her troops to eat while Jack opened the presents. Someone dragged a chair forward and Tammy set the first box in his lap. The tips of his ears turned pink.

  She’d never have believed it, but Jack was embarrassed.

  “Now I know how uncomfortable women feel at these things,” he said. “Why does everybody have to watch?”

  Stu laughed. “Because this is what you do at showers. Right?”

  “Right!” chorused a host of female voices.

  “So stop stallin’ and start rippin’,” added one.

  Once he got into the swing, Jack played his role with zeal, flinging wrap and ribbon into the air, oohing and aahing over teeny ruffled sleepers and frilly dresses. He was fascinated by a specially designed bucket that sealed dirty diapers within a plastic casing, and he’d have tried it out right there if they’d let him. Receiving blankets, little sheets, a mobile to hang over the crib, board books, stuffed animals, the pile of opened gifts grew until there was only one box left.

  Jack roared with laughter as soon as he removed the lid from the box.

  “Let’s see!”

  “What is it?”

  “C’mon, Ferris, show everybody!”

  Still chuckling, Jack reached into the box. The room erupted in laughter from the men and cooing from the women as he held up a miniature lacrosse stick complete with pocket, and a tiny pair of spiked sneakers sporting pink bows. “This is great!” he said with real delight, “But is it the legal size?”

  “Three-minute penalty for short stick!” shouted one of the guys.

  “That’s adorable,” said a tall, tanned blonde. “I’m glad somebody remembered that lacrosse isn’t just a men’s sport.”

  “Ah, we just let you gals play to make you feel better—” And the room erupted into another round of raucous insults and laughter.

  The gift giving concluded, and people began to gather children from the swing set at the far end of the yard and pack up the empty dishes they had brought. Several of the men staggered out to Jack’s car to load the gifts as he thanked Stu and Tammy.

  Stu slapped him on the shoulder. “Think nothing of it, buddy. Hey, are you going to be able to make that charity tournament on the seventh? I need three more guys to make up a team, and I hate to let them down.”

  Jack hesitated. “Better not count on me. I’m having a heck of a time finding a good sitter for Lex and—”

  “Oh, come on. I’d hate to have to cancel.”

  “All right. Let me see what I can work out and I’ll let you know.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Jack repeated.

  “Frannie.” Stu’s eyes lit up as he turned to her, a clear appeal in his voice. “Could you help him out? You could consider it a charitable contribution.”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Jack protested. “Frannie doesn’t baby-sit.”

  “Actually,” she said, “I’m already booked that day. I’m keeping my nephews in Taneytown.” And it was true.

  “So you could take the baby along.” Stu had it all worked out.

  “I don’t think—” She’d sworn she wasn’t going to let Jack take advantage of her.

  “Please? The team needs you. I need you. Jack needs you.”

  It was for a good cause, she told herself. And Jack wasn’t the one who was asking. Slowly she said, “I guess I could take her along.”

  It would have been nice if Jack had protested immediately, if he’d refused to allow her to get involved in his child care problems. But Jack was silent, looking at her with a strangely unreadable expression on his face.

  “Fantastic!” Stu put his arm around her and steered her toward Jack’s car, oblivious to the atmosphere he’d created in the air.

  This shower stuff was exhausting, Jack thought. It was worse than playing back-to-back games. He glanced over at Frannie, unable to make out much more than her profile in the darkness that had finally overtaken the long summer day.

  She’d seemed comfortable among his pals and their families. And they’d certainly taken to her. Lannette had never liked his friends, many of whom he’d known since they played lacrosse together in high school or college. And though they’d been too polite to say it, he knew they hadn’t been fond of her, either.

  Wow, he must be tired, he thought. He rarely thought of his ex-wife anymore. He’d licked his wounds in private after she’d left him, and gradually they had healed. And he’d gotten smarter. When he was younger, he’d thought marriage and love meant sharing everything, meant that your best friend was the person with whom you shared the rest of your life. Meant that your heart was held in another’s care.

  Lannette hadn’t wanted his heart, except maybe as a trophy. She didn’t have it in her to share of herself, to really care about him or anybody else. All they’d shared was passion, and it was his own stupid fault he’d made himself believe they shared more. Ah, nuts to the past. Why was he thinking about that when he had a woman like Frannie sitting beside him?

  He turned the car onto her street and pulled to a stop in her driveway, then turned to her. What would she do if he simply leaned across the space between them and took her mouth? He’d been watching her at the party. As she delicately licked the last of the creamy icing from her fork, she’d glanced up at him. Those luscious lips had curved into a sweet smile and he’d very nearly dropped his drink. He couldn’t forget the physical longing that had rushed through him; just thinking about it now stirred his desire.

  He didn’t want the evening to end. Or if it had to, he wanted it to end with Frannie coming home with him, going through all the bedtime rituals he’d established with Lex, and then, after she slept, coming into his bed. He didn’t
believe in love anymore like he had when he’d been a callow kid, but he was beginning to think of other reasons why marriage could be a good idea. Frannie would be the perfect wife for him.

  Wife? Was he going crazy? He’d decided he could get along just fine without ever going through the marriage mess again. Hadn’t he already decided he wasn’t looking for a wife?

  He was only considering the idea because he felt so strongly that a child needed two parents. That was the only reason he was thinking so much about Frannie.

  But she wasn’t interested. Or at least she wasn’t interested in acting on the exciting charge of awareness that zipped through them both each time their eyes met. He knew she felt it, too. There was no way this could be all one-sided.

  What made her so wary? She was like a mistreated cat, dying to purr and rub herself against him, but a little too afraid to come within reach. He had the feeling sometimes that she was thinking of someone else when she looked at him—someone that had left a bad taste in her mouth.

  Well, he wasn’t that someone, and he wasn’t going to let her get away with thinking of anyone else anymore.

  She put her hand on the door, ready to open it herself if he didn’t get moving, so he got out and came around to pull hers open. But then, some imp within him refused to let him step back and behave like a gentleman. Things were moving way too slowly with her; he’d stir up the waters and see what happened.

  “Thanks for coming with me. I know it was a bit overwhelming for a first date.”

  She had been making rustling sounds as she reached behind the seat for her purse and the doggie bag of cake Tammy had insisted she take along. The noises stopped abruptly.

  “It wasn’t a first date,” she said.

  He read doubt in her tone, and he wondered who she was trying to convince—him or herself. “That’s right, it was a second.”

  “It was not a date.”

  “I know, I know, we’re just friends.” He could see her face now, softly lit by moonlight, her eyes troubled as she looked up at him, and he put his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging the delicate flesh. “Then how come I don’t feel like ‘just a friend’?”

  Her body had gone stiff at the first touch of his hands; she stood like a statue before him. “I don’t know,” she whispered, but in her eyes he could see that she knew as well as he did what was happening between them. It was the end of his restraint.

  Bending his head, he set his mouth on hers as he’d been dreaming of doing for weeks, since he’d first tasted her the night of the hospital jaunt. At the same time, he took her arms and lifted them to his shoulders, then put his around her and drew her fully against him. On tiptoe, she leaned into him, not rejecting the caresses. Even though he’d initiated the intimacy, was prepared for the feel of her body, he inhaled sharply. Her breasts felt resilient and yielding; the vee where her legs met was the perfect cradle for his rapidly growing male flesh. Her lips were soft and pliant under his and she began to return his kisses. The quest for satisfaction roared through him and he tightened his embrace.

  He turned with her in his arms and braced his back against the car. His legs spread wide for balance; her body pressed between them. As she moved to put her arms more firmly around his neck, her body shifted and rubbed over his and his breath exploded in harsh pleasure.

  It took every ounce of control he had to keep the kiss from becoming the wild uncontrollable thing that raged inside him. Instead, he angled his mouth more fully over hers and began to touch the very edges of her lips with his tongue, light, gentle tracings that encouraged her to participate. And to his elation, she did.

  Her mouth opened to allow him access. Although her tongue wasn’t bold enough to stroll out and dance with his at first, it was waiting for his invitation. Within moments, the gentle kisses weren’t enough. She moaned under his mouth as he plunged his tongue deep in a pseudo mating that mimicked what he really wanted—her under him, naked and clinging as he rode her....

  But he couldn’t sustain conscious thought. Her hips were twisting slowly against him now and his hard, aching flesh pulsed with a life of its own as her body pressed back and forth from side to side. Her breasts pushed at his chest. He put up a hand and cupped one through the bodice of the little sundress that had been teasing him all night, and she gave a small cry that was stifled beneath his mouth. But she didn’t push him away. He immediately transferred his attention to the satiny skin along her jaw, to the warm, fragrant hollow of her throat, and his thumb brushed the tip of her breast until the tiny hard nub of her nipple stood up. She said something in a faint tone that he didn’t catch, and against her throat he muttered, “What?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  He really hated to interrupt this, but it was time she understood. Lifting his head, he caught her gaze in the dim light, holding it as he spoke deliberately. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, we aren’t ‘just friends’ anymore. I don’t know what we are, but I like it. And so do you.” He lowered his head to her mouth again, nibbling lightly at one corner. “Tell me you like it.”

  “I like it,” she whispered. But as he lowered his head again, she tore her mouth from his and brought her hand up to pull his away from her breast. “But I’m not sure this is smart.”

  “Maybe not,” he conceded, moving his hand to her buttocks and rubbing her back and forth over the hard ridge distorting the shape of his uniform shorts, “Sure is fun, though. Don’t you think it’s fun?”

  She laughed, but it was almost a painful sound. “Fun isn’t the word I would use to describe this. I have to think.” Taking his arms, she pulled with determination until, with a deep sigh for the night that could have been, he slowly released her.

  He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, resigned to a long, cold shower and a colder bed. “Why?”

  “Because...just because.” She allowed him to steal one more soft kiss before he lifted his head.

  His hands rested loosely on the soft swell of her hips. Stepping back, he waited while she gathered her things, then took her hand and walked her the short distance to the door.

  She dug in her purse for her key and unlocked the door, then turned to face him. Her face was a study in consternation, he thought, freshly aroused by the way she chewed her bottom lip. He’d seen her do it before and it got to him every time. Of course, there wasn’t much about her he could think of that didn’t get to him.

  Putting a finger under her chin, he said, “Don’t look so worried.”

  “Why not?” She sounded belligerent and almost tearful, and she kept her eyes on the placket of his shirt. “We were doing fine just being friends. This changes everything.”

  “I know,” he soothed. “You need some time to get used to this. But, Frannie—” he paused and waited until she looked up at him “—we weren’t meant to be only friends. This was bound to happen, and I can’t say I’m sorry, because I’m not.” He smiled briefly and gathered her to him, kissing her deeply one last time and waiting until she responded before he let her go. “And if you’re honest with yourself, you aren’t sorry, either.”

  No, she wasn’t sorry, she thought two days later. How could she be sorry that Jack had kissed her, touched her like she was the only woman alive? How could she be sorry that he so clearly wanted her?

  He’d indicated his interest several times, but she’d forced herself to believe he was only practicing his charm on her. After the other night, she couldn’t pretend anymore. He’d torn a huge hole in her denial and deliberately ripped it even wider when he clarified his position.

  She knew he wanted her. There was no question that she wanted him. No question at all, she thought, her body reacting to the memory of his lips and hands on her body, his hard, demanding strength pressed against her. When Jack pulled her into his arms, she turned into a quivering lump of willing flesh that begged, “Mold me, shape me.”

  But she still wasn’t sure it was smart. Maybe she should call a halt to this before she c
ouldn’t.

  And that, she thought, was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

  Could she?

  He’d called yesterday, and though they’d talked of nothing important, there had been a new intimacy in his deep tones. If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she couldn’t simply walk away. She was afraid, yes. Afraid that he was coming to mean far too much to her. She thought she’d been in love once before, but it had turned to dust. Loving Jack would mean keeping her vision clear, remembering that he didn’t return the feeling.

  She’d better have her eyes checked, then, because she had a bad feeling that it was too late for decisions. Her heart had followed her body into his arms Saturday night.

  He hadn’t asked to see her again until next weekend, when she’d let Stu coerce her into taking Alexa to Taneytown with her. Already she was dreading a whole week away from him, and it was only Monday evening.

  The doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting company, and she frowned slightly. She was in the middle of mopping the kitchen floor, and it went against her nature to stop in the middle of the job.

  Setting aside the mop, she wiped her hands on the ratty old jean shorts she’d put on for the task, and went to the front door. She slipped off the dead bolt and opened the door.

  Jack stood on the porch, with Alexa cradled in one arm.

  Her heart bounded into a joyous dance, and she knew a silly smile had plastered itself over her face. “Hi.” Her voice was quiet; if she expressed the feelings running through her, the whole neighborhood would get an earful.

  “Hi.” His eyes were warm and dancing with silver lights. He returned the smile. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” She stepped back, feeling ridiculous. How could this man send every shred of her common sense on vacation?

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.” As he stepped past her, she felt seared by the close proximity. Then he turned to face her as she closed the door.