Once Upon a Pregnancy

by Judy Duarte

  “I’m glad.” Desire smoldered in his eyes as he moved slowly, deliberately, closing the gap between them.

  He cupped her cheeks with his hands, and his thumbs caressed her skin, as the intensity of his gaze weakened her knees.

  “You won’t be sorry about this, Simone.” The sincerity in his passion-laced tone reached deep into her heart, and she hoped he was right.

  She might have reservations about making love with a man who wanted so much more than she was able to give him, but no one had ever made her feel so special, so desired. So…flawless.

  What little apprehension she’d had left seemed to vanish within the sexually charged room, and she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him back into another heated kiss.

  Their tongues dipped and tasted, and she was lost in a mind-spinning swirl of heat and desire.

  His hands slid possessively up and down her back, then he gripped her derriere and pulled her flush against his erection, staking his claim and letting her know that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  As his hands slipped under her blouse, his fingertips skimmed her skin, and her breath caught. She’d never been so fully aroused, and she had a sudden compulsion to shed her clothing, to remove all the physical barriers that kept her from enjoying him freely.

  She tore her mouth away from his long enough to reach for the hem of her blouse and to say, “Wait a minute. Let me get this…”

  He took the lead, helping her to slide the fabric over her head and to unhook her white, satiny bra. Before she knew it, she was tugging his shirt out of his pants and grappling for his belt at the same time.

  Apparently, he was glad to assist, because he’d soon bared his torso, too.

  Simone wanted Mike, wanted this. And nothing else seemed to matter. As she fell into his embrace, she relished the feel of her breasts as they pressed against his chest, the beat of her heart as it pounded against his.

  But it wasn’t nearly enough.

  As he nuzzled the soft spot below her ear and trailed kisses along her neck, he whispered between ragged breaths, “I want to touch and kiss you all over.”

  He wouldn’t get an argument from her. “Okay, but I don’t think my knees are going to hold me up much longer.”

  “No problem.” He scooped her into his arms, then carried her to the bed, where he gently laid her down and proceeded to peel her slacks over her hips. Next he took off her panties, leaving her completely naked.

  “Now, you,” she said, feeling like a seductress with her hair splayed upon the pillow sham. “I’m not the only one who’s going to get kissed all over.”

  All over, huh?

  Mike grinned. “Honey, I’m going to hold you to it.” He peeled off his own pants and dropped them on the floor, then he joined her on the bed, where he loved her with his hands, with his mouth—slowly and methodically, as he savored each sensual touch, each breathy kiss, each flick of the tongue.

  And he didn’t let up the sensual assault until he’d made her writhe with need.

  “I want you inside of me,” she said, her voice ragged with desire. “All of you.”

  “You can have every last inch.” Of course, he’d already given her more than that. She had him—heart and soul—but he didn’t dare admit it. Nor did he mention that he’d been dreaming of doing this again since the end of February, when they’d made love the first time.

  As he hovered over her, he inhaled the powdery, peach fragrance of her body lotion, as well as the musky scent of sex. And when she opened for him, he entered full hilt.

  She arched to meet each thrust, in and out, until they peaked, until they pressed over the top and cried out in a mind-shattering, body-shuddering climax.

  They continued to hold each other, as though neither wanted to be the first to move, the first to break the tenuous connection that stretched between them.

  As the last wave of pleasure passed, Mike rolled to the side, taking her with him.

  He expected her to pull away, to shut down like she had the last time. But she held on tight, her nails threatening to make crescent-shaped marks on his back.

  It had been a sweet joining, one that he hoped meant she’d finally accepted his love and all he had to offer her and their baby.

  It’s what he’d been counting on—that she would finally be able to let go of the past and embrace the future.

  A future with him.

  As dawn cast its light in the bedroom, Simone lay cuddled in Mike’s arms, her back to his front, her bare bottom nestled in the fold of his lap.

  They’d made love several times last night, with each climax better than the last. So they’d found themselves in a sensual world of their own, oblivious to anything but each other.

  The phone had rung around nine o’clock, but Simone had let the answering machine pick up. Nothing seemed to matter except pleasuring each other.

  They hadn’t even bothered to gate the kitchen, which meant the dogs had remained loose in the house last night, so she’d probably find a puddle or two on the floor.

  Around midnight, since Mike had to go into the station in the morning, he got out of bed long enough to set the alarm.

  Otherwise, they’d savored every moment together.

  The very first time they’d made love, that night in February, Simone had awakened with a growing sense of regret.

  She felt better about it today, though, and didn’t have that same compulsion to retreat. Still, she was on edge.

  Would she gradually get used to waking in Mike’s arms? To having him in her life?

  He seemed to think she would.

  Woofer, who’d just trotted into the bedroom, placed his nose on the mattress and whimpered, letting her know he wanted to go into the backyard. So she carefully lifted Mike’s arm and slid out of his embrace. Then she climbed from bed and pulled her bathrobe from the closet.

  As her bare feet padded across the hardwood floor, the dogs eagerly followed her through the kitchen and to the service porch, where she opened the back door and let them outside.

  Wags hardly made it to the lawn before squatting to relieve himself.

  Hey. Maybe she wouldn’t find any puddles on the floor after all.

  “Good job, Wags! That’s the idea.” She pulled the lapel of her robe closer, shielding her naked body from the brisk morning air and wishing she’d taken time to put on her slippers.

  She decided to leave the dogs outdoors to play for a while, then went inside and put on a small pot of coffee for Mike. In the meantime, the alarm sounded in the bedroom, then shut off. A moment later, the plumbing shuddered as the shower went on.

  Mike would be leaving soon, so they’d have to discuss the future later, which was okay with her. She wasn’t sure what she wanted out of a relationship with him anyway.

  Whenever she thought about marriage, she still grew uneasy. And unfortunately, the white-picket-fence dream was still Mike’s highest priority and Simone’s biggest fear.

  And why shouldn’t it be?

  No matter what Mike said, what he might think, Simone knew she would fall sadly short of the wife-and-mother image he had in mind. She’d never be like Rhonda O’Rourke, and Mike would end up disappointed down the road. And that wasn’t fair to him.

  Bottom line? Simone was a career woman, a medical professional who loved doing what she’d been trained to do.

  Would Mike expect her to be a stay-at-home mother?

  She certainly hoped not. That would be a huge conflict in and of itself. How could she give up the one thing that defined her?

  She couldn’t.

  Would that make her a bad mother? Would Mike grow to resent her because of it? And worse—would the baby?

  As the last bit of water trickled through the filter and filled the bottom half of the carafe with fresh coffee, she glanced at the answering machine that rested on the counter. A red light blinked to remind her of the call she hadn’t wanted to take last night. So she pushed play, then listened for the message.


  “Hi, Simone. It’s Cynthia Pryor again. You know, your mom’s friend and neighbor? I really hate to bother you, but I was wondering if—since you’re a nurse—you could give me the name of a good counselor. I think your mother really needs to talk to someone, and…well, I’m out of my league when it comes to…some of her issues.”

  Had Simone’s mom finally leveled with someone about the date rape?

  If Simone hadn’t found those journals, she might never have known why her mother couldn’t stand looking at her.

  “I hate to pry,” Cynthia began, “but when I told Susan to call you, she admitted that your relationship wasn’t very good, and that it was probably her fault.”

  Probably?

  “Gosh,” Cynthia said. “Here I am, rambling on your tape. You probably think I’m a mindless old busybody…”

  Actually, the thought had crossed Simone’s mind, although Simone suspected she meant well.

  “But it breaks my heart to see the sadness in your mother’s eyes, especially when I think there’s relief out there—either with medication or by talking it out. So, anyway, would you please give me—or better yet, give her a call? Your mother really needs someone in her corner right now.”

  Cynthia went on to leave her number before hanging up.

  Susan Garner did need help, and Simone couldn’t help wondering where someone like Cynthia had been years ago. Back when Simone had needed someone in her corner. Back when Simone also needed a mommy.

  So why should she get involved now?

  The last time Cynthia had encouraged Simone to pick up the phone and offer some daughterly advice, it had taken her mother more than a week to return the call.

  No, if her mom had wanted Simone to get involved, Cynthia wouldn’t have had to interfere. Her mother would have picked up the phone and called herself.

  Really? a small voice asked. Considering how lousy your relationship has been?

  “That’s not my fault,” Simone muttered.

  She opened the fridge, removed a carton of orange juice and poured herself a glass. Then she divided an English muffin and placed both sides in the toaster. She’d intended to fix Mike a hearty breakfast this morning, but the message from Cynthia seemed to have depleted her domestic energy.

  “Good morning.” Mike entered the kitchen wearing a towel wrapped around his waist and a carefree grin. His hair was wet and mussed, his body still damp from the shower.

  She returned his smile, hoping it hadn’t fallen short of sincere.

  He bent to kiss her, and she offered her cheek.

  Darn it. It was happening again. He was coming on strong, and she was pulling back.

  She wished she could make an excuse for doing so. Or maybe find a way to regroup. But thoughts of her mother and old childhood pain had set her on autopilot.

  Mike didn’t seem to have let the proffered cheek bother him. “I’d like to take you to dinner as soon as we’re both free. How does your schedule look?”

  “I’m off tonight and work tomorrow.” Actually, she was glad they would both be tied up for a few days. She was starting to gravitate toward him, yet old habits were hard to kick.

  He closed the gap between them, and she forced her feet to stay still, her smile to remain in place.

  See? She didn’t have to retreat. She could make a conscious effort to remain emotionally connected.

  He placed a hand along the side of her head, caressed the strands of her hair. Then he snagged her gaze with his. “Last night was wonderful for me. And it was great for you, too. You can’t deny that.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Why do I sense that you’re having second thoughts?”

  She couldn’t see any point mentioning that her mother was still casting a dark shadow over her life. That there was still a little girl inside of Simone who hoped her mommy would get help, that she’d learn how to love the child she’d given birth to. “I guess it’s just because I’ve gotten so used to living alone that I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now.”

  “Well, that’s an easy decision this morning. I’m going to have a cup of coffee, get dressed and leave you to spend your day and evening any way you want.” He placed a finger under her chin. “Then I’m going to work, where I’ll probably think about you too damn much.”

  “The whole commitment thing scares me, Mike.”

  “I know it does, honey.”

  God, what did she do to deserve a guy like him loving her? He was so understanding. And she was so…

  She blew out a ragged sigh. “I just need some time to get used to…this.”

  “Get used to what? Me? Us?”

  She nodded. “I was raised differently than you. I’m not used to the home-and-hearth stuff. Heck, I don’t even read romances or watch chick flicks. It’s hard for me to relate to the characters.”

  “Fred and Millie are happily married. Are you uncomfortable around them?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “What about my folks? You seemed to enjoy yourself at their house.”

  “I did.” Still, as nice as the O’Rourkes were, as accepting as they’d been, Simone had only been further convinced of the differences she and Mike had.

  Rhonda O’Rourke might be the epitome of a loving mom and grandma, but being around her only made Simone realize how much she’d missed growing up.

  “Then don’t fight it, Simone. Just give it a chance, honey. You’ll get used to me, to us. You’ll see.”

  The English muffin popped up in the toaster, and she turned to get it, retreating from the intensity of his gaze, from the emotion of the topic.

  “Maybe you ought to start reading more romances and watching more movies. It might help.”

  But before she could take a plate out of the cupboard to put the muffin halves on, she thought of something. Something she’d been wondering about.

  She turned to face him again. “Why did you take me to your parents’ house yesterday?”

  “Because I wanted you to meet my mom and dad, to see what kind of grandparents they’ll be.”

  “I have no doubt that they’ll be wonderful,” she admitted. “It’s just that I still can’t see myself making you happy in the long run.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “Making a marriage work is tough enough when people come from the same background,” she said.

  “Marriages are two parts love, one part compromise. That’s something my parents always told me.”

  She supposed that was true. “It’s hard to imagine them having to compromise about anything.”

  “Over the years, there were plenty of times. For one thing, my dad was raised Catholic, and my mom was Protestant. But they didn’t let that stop them. They loved each other and were determined to make their marriage work.”

  Still, she couldn’t help thinking that there’d be way too much compromising going on if Mike had his way. And she couldn’t help thinking she’d be doing them all a favor by avoiding what would only be a star-crossed affair.

  But truthfully, there was a part of her that really wanted to adopt Mike’s optimism, his unshakable belief that everything would work out. That she would instantly fall in love with the baby the moment she laid eyes on it. That Susan Garner hadn’t left any permanent scars on Simone’s psyche, other than to make her grow up afraid to love, afraid to get involved with the nicest guy in the world.

  A man any other woman would be thrilled to call her own.

  A man who’d helped her touch the moon and stars last night.

  “I guess I just need time to get used to this, Mike.”

  “No problem. You’ve got it.” Then he brushed a kiss upon her cheek. “I’m going to get dressed, then get out of your hair for a few days.”

  That ought to be a big relief.

  So why wasn’t it?

  * * *

  Mike should have been walking on air after spending last night in Simone’s bed and in her arms. In fact, up until six this mo
rning, he’d thought he had been.

  But Simone had done it to him again. She’d ditched the warm, loving woman she’d been at bedtime and morphed into someone he couldn’t seem to get through to. A woman so reserved that she might shatter in his arms.

  At the station, his shift had barely started when the crew was called out to rescue a child in a tree. It had been one of those so-called emergencies that was actually humorous.

  Tommy the cat, a big orange tabby, had gotten stuck in a tree. And when little Jimmy Ralston took it upon himself to rescue the frightened feline, Tommy had scampered down, leaving the ten-year-old boy about twenty feet aboveground and afraid to move.

  Twenty minutes later, they’d put the boy on the ground and placed him in the custody of his mother. They’d just started back to the station when another call came in. This time, it was a kitchen fire started by a woman who hadn’t had a match to light her fireplace. Instead, she’d used a twisted-up paper towel that she lit at the stove. She’d started to carry it like a small torch into the living room, but the paper burned much faster than she’d intended.

  The panicked woman rushed to the sink, only to watch the flame catch the curtains on fire.

  Fortunately, no one had been hurt.

  Now, as noon approached, Mike found himself sitting all by himself on the side of his bed, his mind on Simone and their problems. She was pushing him to the limit of his patience. He’d told her he would give her all the time she needed, but now he wasn’t so sure he could do that.

  Not if she refused to meet him at least part of the way.

  “O’Rourke,” Leif said as he approached. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” What was he supposed to say? That he was bummed out because Simone was pulling away again?

  Leif had already suggested he cut bait and run, so he knew what advice his buddy would give him this time.

  Of course, things weren’t quite as bad as they’d been at the end of February. And maybe she would realize that she’d still have plenty of space and alone time.

  “What’s eating you?” Leif asked.