Unexpectedly Expecting!

by Susan Mallery

  She shook her head. “It all seems like so much trouble.”

  He studied her more closely. Previously, she’d always worn bright colors. Today her shapeless dress was dark and wrinkled. Her mouth was pale, which made him remember that until the cancer, he’d never seen her without makeup. Now she never wore it. Her hair was clean but unstyled, her nails were uneven. She was a woman who didn’t care about much anymore.

  “Don’t let apathy do what the cancer couldn’t,” he said. “I’m not ready to lose you.”

  She gave him a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, Dr. Remington. I’ll be fine.”

  She rose slowly and collected her purse, then shuffled out of the room. He followed her, wishing he had a magic answer. Myrna Nelson had lost her reason to live. Something about her illness had made her sink into hopelessness.

  As he held open the front door for her, he automatically glanced across the street. The bright afternoon light reflected off the windows of Nora’s shop, so he couldn’t see inside, but he imagined the beautiful woman working there.

  As he watched, one of her clients stepped onto the street. She was about the same age as Mrs. Nelson, but unlike Myrna, this woman had a spring in her step. She paused to admire her reflection in the shop window, patting her hair as she gave herself a satisfied smile.

  Stephen stared at her for a moment as an idea was born. “I want to see you in two weeks,” he told his patient.

  “Whatever you say,” she murmured as she shuffled toward her car.

  In the meantime he was going to try a little unconventional therapy, and he knew just the person to assist him. Assuming he could get Nora to agree.

  He waited until Myrna had driven away before crossing the street and walking toward the Snip ’n Clip. While he told himself he was doing this all for a patient, he knew in his heart he’d been looking for an excuse to see Nora. She’d been avoiding him for nearly a week and she’d neatly shut him down on the phone the previous evening. What he didn’t know was why. What had happened to make her change her mind about him? Had he done something wrong or was she getting cold feet? Not that there was anything cold about her. She was the most sensual, passionate woman he’d ever known. Just thinking about being with her and touching her was enough to get his blood bubbling.

  He paused outside her shop so he could calm his thoughts. He didn’t want to walk into the all-female enclave while obviously aroused.

  So instead of focusing on Nora’s body, he thought about her mind. Her quick wit and biting tongue didn’t scare him—instead she made him laugh. Being with her was different from being with Courtney. With Nora, he felt comfortable, as if he didn’t have to keep proving himself. He hated to think ill of his late wife, but Courtney had always been pushing him. She’d had dreams and goals, and she hadn’t been shy about making sure he was aware of them and moving in the right direction.

  The glass door of the shop opened and Nora stuck out her head. “Are you going to stand there forever, or did you want to come in?”

  She was gorgeous, he thought, taking in the long-sleeved white shirt tucked into red jeans. Her hair was loose and curly, tumbling over her shoulders in a way that made him want to run his fingers through the curls and bury his face in the softness.

  “Stephen?”

  “What? Oh.” She was still looking at him. He realized that while he couldn’t see in the shop, everyone there could see out. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “We could tell. Did you want something?”

  “Yes. I want to talk to you. About a patient of mine. I need your help.”

  She sighed heavily, then pushed the door open wider. “You might as well come in, then. You’ve already created a stir.”

  “Ever gracious,” he murmured as he followed her into the feminine world of Nora’s salon.

  As soon as he stepped into the waiting area, he was assaulted by too many smells. Chemicals and perfumes, some pleasant, some strong enough to make him want to cough, filled the air. Everyone but himself was female, most sitting in large chairs and covered with multicolored plastic capes. He saw women with tight rollers in their hair, women adorned with bits of foil that made them look as if they were trying to contact alien life-forms. Someone was getting her nails done, while another was being teased and sprayed to within an inch of her life. And every single person in the place was staring at him.

  He gave a wave. “Good afternoon, ladies. Don’t mind me. I’m here to talk to Nora.”

  “So we guessed,” an older woman in curlers said with a smirk. “So, Nora. A doctor. Your mother will be so proud.”

  Nora looked at him and raised her eyebrows as if to say, “I told you so.” Then she pointed to the rear of the salon. “My office is back here.”

  He followed her past deep bowls with reclining chairs and several dryers anchored to the wall. If this was a world of beauty, he didn’t want to visit again. The walls were too pink and everything about the place screamed that he didn’t belong.

  She waited for him to step into her office, then closed the door behind him. He glanced around. At least here the walls were cream and there wasn’t a single floral print or flounce in sight. Instead, a worn desk filled the small space. There was a four-drawer file cabinet and fax machine tucked on a small table in the corner.

  Nora planted her bottom on the desk and stared at him. “So what do you want?”

  “You.”

  It hadn’t been what he’d meant to say, but once the word was out, he couldn’t call it back. He stepped closer and drew her to him. She didn’t protest, not even when he kissed her. She tasted sweet and willing and soon they were locked in a passionate embrace.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” he asked as her body surged against him. The soft pressure of her breasts was pure torture.

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar. Either you hated what we did together, or you’re scared. Which is it?”

  The challenge got the expected response. She straightened and glared at him. “I’m not frightened of you or any man.”

  “Uh-huh. So the sex was lousy?”

  She looked past his shoulder. “No. It was very nice.”

  “So you’re scared.”

  She returned her attention to him, trying to slay him with a glare. “There is a third alternative.”

  “Tell me what it is.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. Fire flared from her big brown eyes, but it had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with frustration.

  Triumph filled him. “Face it. You want me, but you’re scared. So you’re avoiding me. I understand.” He leaned close. “Coward.”

  She hissed, but didn’t speak.

  He laughed and cupped her face. “I adore being with you.”

  Her expression tightened. “Be careful. I might get a swelled head and think you actually want a relationship with me.”

  That got his attention. He dropped his hands to his sides. “Have you changed your mind about keeping things simple between us? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  “Oh, isn’t that just like a man. There you go, assuming if the sex was halfway decent I must be picking out china and planning a wedding. Amazingly enough, Dr. Stephen Remington, I have no interest in you that way.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “Oh, no. Something that isn’t actually about you. How will you survive?”

  Her belittling attack made him feel better. “Do you want to hear why I needed to see you or what?”

  “Avoiding an ugly truth. Also, how like a man. Yes, tell me what’s wrong.”

  He sat on the desk and patted the space next to him. When she’d joined him, he explained about Myrna and his theory that she’d lost interest in life.

  “I see the women coming out of your shop all the time,” he said. “They feel vital and attractive. I would like you to pay Myrna a house call. I think some attention would go a long way to making her feel better. I’ll take care of the bill.”

  She’
d been smiling at him right up until he mentioned money. “I don’t need your financial assistance. I’ll do this for Myrna because I’ve always liked her. In fact, she was my Sunday School teacher for about four years, so I owe her. I’ll head over first thing in the morning.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. Watching someone get a shampoo and set can be pretty boring.”

  “Not when you’re in the room. I’d pay just to watch you sleep.” He leaned close. “Naked, of course.”

  Color stained her cheeks. “Of course.”

  “So when can I see you again?”

  She sighed heavily. “I’m never getting rid of you, am I?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “So I should just give in?”

  “Absolutely.” He leaned close and nibbled on her earlobe. “I promise to make you faint with pleasure. You want to come to my place this time?”

  She shivered. “F-fine. What time?”

  “Seven,” he said with a straight face, not letting her know for a second that he’d heard the tremor of desire in her voice.

  Chapter Ten

  N ora arrived promptly at six-fifty-nine, then paced by her car until exactly seven. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. It was insane. It was crazy, and so was she.

  She looked at the single-story garden apartment complex. The units were relatively new. She wondered why he hadn’t bought a house rather than renting. Was it because he was new in town and hadn’t had time, or was his stay in Lone Star Canyon temporary? Not that she cared. If Stephen Remington left town tomorrow, she would be a happy camper.

  Nora sucked in a breath and reminded herself that it was never a good policy to lie to anyone, especially one’s self. Of course she cared if Stephen stayed or went. Maybe she didn’t care a whole lot, but she had some interest in the man. After all, she was here to make love with him.

  Her stomach quivered in anticipation. She pressed a hand against her belly to try to quiet her nerves. What was there to worry about? She’d been with the man before and everything had worked out well. She found herself melting whenever he got within touching distance. Obviously their bodies connected on a very basic level. They were both adults, and neither of them wanted a long-term, emotional commitment. What was not to like?

  She squared her shoulders and headed toward his front door. Everything was fine, she told herself, but she didn’t believe that, either. Nothing felt right about this. Although she was looking forward to seeing Stephen, she found herself uncomfortable with the thought of being intimate with him again. Which was crazy. The man made her incredibly hot. If he’d pushed her even a little, they would have done it earlier that afternoon, right in her office. So why was this different?

  She didn’t have any answers when she knocked on his front door. He opened it instantly and smiled at her.

  “I thought maybe you’d chicken out,” he said with a glinting smile.

  He wore jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He’d obviously showered—his hair was still damp and his feet were bare. His jaw looked freshly shaved. He was a good-looking man. Intelligent, compassionate and darned good in bed. Just to make things interesting, he wanted her as his lover. It was a pretty lethal combination. She had to swallow against the sudden knot in her throat, and the quivering in her stomach increased to a steady throb.

  “I don’t scare so easy,” she told him.

  “I know. It’s part of your charm.” He motioned for her to enter the apartment.

  She stepped inside, taking in the large living room with an eating alcove and a kitchen to the left. On the right was a hallway. The apartment was spacious, with big windows and hardwood floors. But as she looked around, taking in the plain but functional furniture and the complete absence of any personal items on either the walls or the tables, she had the strongest urge to introduce color and personality to the room.

  The walls and blinds were cream, the sofa and chairs a blue-beige plaid, the wood, light oak. There wasn’t a scrap of color or plant life in sight.

  “Are you afraid someone will think you actually live here?” she asked as she took a seat on the sofa. The cushions were plump and comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking she was in a furniture showroom rather than someone’s home.

  “What do you mean?” he asked as he followed her into the room. “You don’t like my decorating choices?”

  “I don’t know. You haven’t made any. What about artwork or pictures, or even a plant or two? The room cries out for color.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t think of that. When I moved from Boston I sold everything I had and started fresh. You think I need color?”

  “Something. Even hotel rooms have pictures on the walls.”

  He glanced around as if seeing the place for the first time. “Maybe you’re right.” He shrugged off the conversation and turned toward the kitchen. “Want something to drink? I have both white and red wine.”

  “I’m a little tired,” she said, telling herself it wasn’t exactly a lie. “I’m afraid alcohol will put me on my butt, so I’d rather have a diet soda if you have one. Or water.”

  “One diet soda on ice, coming up,” he said easily, and stepped into the kitchen.

  Nora breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t questioned her refusal of the wine. She’d wondered if he would guess her real reason for avoiding it—namely that until she was sure she wasn’t pregnant, she wasn’t going to touch alcohol.

  Stephen returned with two glasses. He set them on the coffee table, then sat next to her. Much to her dismay, he was close enough to set her body on fire. She felt both aroused and jumpy, neither of which was helped by him putting his hand on her knee.

  “We have to talk,” he said, his expression serious.

  She didn’t want to talk, but she couldn’t tell him that. He would think she wanted to get right to the sex and she wasn’t sure if she could do that tonight. Nothing felt right—her skin was prickly, as if it was too tight, and her heart was all fluttery and her head kind of hurt but kind of didn’t.

  She leaned forward and picked up her drink, mostly so she didn’t have to look at him. “Say what you’d like. I’m listening.”

  “I was hoping the communication thing would go two ways.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed. “Because it generally makes things easier. I say something, you respond, then you say something.”

  “Okay. Say something.”

  He shifted on the sofa, then she felt his hand on her back. His touch was light and warm and made her want to snuggle closer to him. Which was darned annoying.

  “You seem nervous,” he said. “Did I coerce you into coming over tonight? Would you like to leave?”

  She took a sip of her soda, then put the glass back on the table. Which, unfortunately, wasn’t enough time for her to gather her thoughts together. “I don’t feel that you forced me to come here. I’ll admit to being a little nervous. The entire situation is strange. I guess part of it is that while in theory I agree with your concept about adults having a sexually monogamous, commitment-free relationship, the practice isn’t that simple.”

  Which was as close to the truth as she was willing to get. There was no way she was going to tell him that she was distracted by the idea of being pregnant and the nagging belief that if they continued to be lovers that her feelings for him might go in a direction neither of them wanted.

  “I understand,” he said. “Obviously I’m such a good lover that you’re completely overwhelmed. I understand. It’s been a real problem for me all my life. Women experience such bliss in my arms that they feel compelled to worship me and service me with slavish devotion. It’s pretty embarrassing.”

  She sprang to her feet and spun to face him. Laughter danced in his eyes but his expression was completely serious. She raised her eyebrows and glared down at him.

  “I’m wearing sandals,” she said, lifting a foot to prove the fact. “So I’m not dre
ssed to wade through all the manure you’re shoveling.”

  He collapsed back in mock shock. “You don’t feel compelled to worship me? To spend your life adoring the very ground on which I walk?”

  “Not even close.”

  He pushed their drinks to the far side of the coffee table, then patted the wooden surface in front of him. Reluctantly Nora sat where he’d indicated. Now they were facing each other and as close as they’d been before. Which was not a good idea. Especially when Stephen took her hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes.

  “Are you uncomfortable because you’re concerned that everyone in town will figure out we’re seeing each other? I know you’re sensitive to being the object of speculation.”

  He was being intuitive and kind. A lethal combination, because it was so rare in a man. “That’s some of it. Eventually everyone knows everyone else’s business.”

  His fingers were warm as they rubbed against hers. He squeezed. “And I didn’t help that when I sent the flowers last Saturday. I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve already apologized. It’s fine. No one read the card but me.” And he would never know that she’d tucked it away in a small box at the back of her closet with all the other special mementos of her life.

  He glanced down, then back at her. “At the risk of starting trouble, does any of your reluctance come from the fact that I was married before? You seemed surprised to find out I was a widower.”

  Nora felt as if he’d suddenly ripped open her protective cover and could see down into the darkness of her soul. She felt small and inadequate, but when she tried to pull her hands free of his, he wouldn’t let her.

  “I guess,” she mumbled, not looking at him. “Not really, but in a way.”

  “You want to explain that?”

  “No.”

  “Nora.” He didn’t say anything else, just waited until she finally raised her head and met his gaze. “Courtney doesn’t have anything to do with you and me.”

  “Yes, she does. She’s still a part of your life. You’re in love with her, which makes me feel like I’m helping you cheat or something. I’m not the kind of woman who gets involved with married men.”