Expecting the Best (Harlequin Superromance)

by Lynnette Kent

  “I really wish you’d let me take care of that bill,” she said finally. “There’s no reason for you to ruin your accounts and your credit this way.”

  “I’m the father.” Zach fastened his seat belt, wincing as the bandages pulled on his chest and back. “That gives me an interest in what goes on, and a responsibility.”

  “But I probably make three times your salary in a year.”

  “You buy the luxuries—silver spoons and gold-plated rattles. I can handle the baby basics.”

  Shelley bowed her head and rested her forehead on her knuckles. “This baby has already cost you enough. You shouldn’t be saddled with the bills as well as a responsibility you never wanted.”

  Zach reached toward the vulnerable nape of her neck, the shining strands of hair feathering there. “I’m over that hurdle. You need to move on, too—unless you don’t want to give up the protection you get from believing it.”

  Before he could touch her, she straightened up, still looking ahead. “This isn’t about me.”

  “No, it’s about us. There has to be an us for the whole situation to work.”

  Sighing, she started the engine. “You’re impossible.”

  “Only because I’m right.”

  She cast him a troubled glance, then put the car in Drive. Neither of them said much on the way home. Or at dinner. Or the rest of the evening. Shelley went to bed with only a subdued good-night.

  Zach tried the same trick, without success. He tossed around for a few hours, then finally got up and wandered into the kitchen. When he came back down the hall at 2:00 a.m., his wife was awake.

  “Zach? Are you okay?”

  “Sure. I woke up starving.” Sublimating, the psychologists called this process. What kept him awake these days was Shelley. She straightened his bed when she came home in the afternoons and her scent stayed in the room, weaving through his dreams. Since he couldn’t go in to wake her up, couldn’t make love with her, he tried to satisfy his hunger with a sandwich.

  But now… now she stood at the door to her room, lighted from behind by the bedside lamp. Under a long, full gown, the shadow of her body shaped the white cloth—her breasts, her full belly, her long, gorgeous legs… Zach’s mouth went dry. The rest of him went on alert. He couldn’t think of a single word to say.

  Like a piano wire stretched past endurance, tension vibrated between them. Zach could hear himself breathe, could almost hear his heart pound. Shelley stood motionless, seeming not to breathe at all. But her hand tightened on the doorknob.

  “Well, then,” she whispered. “I—I’ll go back to sleep. Good night.” She didn’t wait for his answer to close the door in his face.

  “Yeah, right,” Zach muttered. He spent the rest of the dark hours with a manual on changes in department paperwork procedures propped open in front of his sightless eyes.

  ZACH CAME out of the doctor’s office on Friday afternoon walking easier and moving his arms more. “The bandages are practically gone,” he told Shelley. “I can take a deep breath again.” He tried, and winced. “Well, almost, anyway.”

  “Next week,” she suggested.

  Zach made dinner—his world-famous spaghetti, he said—while Shelley folded and put away baby clothes in the new nursery. They talked a little over the meal, and cleaned up the kitchen together. Not exactly comfortable, but at least not hostile. Afterward, Shelley went to her room to practice her Lamaze techniques. With all the upheaval in the past weeks, she hadn’t kept up her breathing exercises. Her due date was just a couple of weeks away. She wanted to be prepared.

  She piled pillows on the floor, but getting them arranged just right left her panting from exertion. Relaxing was harder than she anticipated, with Zach moving around the house. She tried to concentrate, tried to keep her breaths even, unhurried. Success escaped her.

  And then her leg cramped. She managed to breathe through the pain, which seemed like good practice. But when she tried to sit up, she couldn’t bend over the baby. Lying on her side, she couldn’t reach her calf to massage the muscle. When she moved her leg to get up, the cramp worsened until she bit her lip to keep from crying.

  “Zach?” She called softly at first, hoping for a miracle that would keep her from needing him. “Zach?”

  On her third call he hurried down the hall. “Shelley, what’s wrong?”

  “Come in, please.”

  Zach opened the door. His eyes widened as he saw her lying on the floor. “Geez, Shelley, did you fall?” He squatted beside her and put a hand on her arm. “Are you hurt?”

  “I have a cramp in my leg,” she told him through gritted teeth. “And I can’t reach it.”

  Laughter sprang into his eyes, but he kept his mouth straight. “Which leg?”

  “Right.”

  “Lie back against the pillows.” He turned and put his palms on the knotted muscle, pressing firmly. “Better?”

  Shelley sighed and relaxed. “Getting there.”

  “Good.”

  After a few minutes, the pain vanished. “Thanks,” she said as her cheeks heated up. “I appreciate the help.”

  “Anytime.” He sat on the floor facing her. “Want to tell me what you’re doing down here?”

  How much deeper could she blush? “Breathing exercises.”

  His eyes narrowed. “For labor, you mean? Like Lamaze?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her for a few moments. “Aren’t you supposed to have a coach for Lamaze?”

  “Um, usually.”

  “Who’s yours?”

  Make up one, or tell the truth? “Mom took the classes with me back in October, but she works until seven or seven-thirty most nights so I practice on my own.”

  “Oh.” After a long silence, he said, “I could help.”

  His voice was so low Shelley didn’t think she’d heard correctly. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  He played with the fringe on a pillow. “I could help you practice.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “We could at least see if it would work, right?” He asked the question staring at the floor.

  Zach had never struck her as a humble man. Not arrogant, either, like Dex could be. Just…self-confident.

  And yet here he was, requesting the chance to see his child born. From all appearances, if she said no, he’d abide by her choice.

  That, more than anything else, made the decision easy.

  “We can try,” Shelley said. “You might find out you’d rather be on the other side of the delivery-room door.”

  He looked up with the lighthearted grin she’d first fallen in love with. “I am a little squeamish when it comes to the messy stuff.”

  She found out what she’d let herself in for soon enough. Zach read the Lamaze-course handbook the next day. That very afternoon, he made her practice. And every day after that.

  The Wednesday before Thanksgiving was no exception. He came into the dining room at seven o’clock. “Drop the paperwork, Shelley. You need to practice your breathing.”

  “I will.” She punched in another number on her calculator. “Just let me get this finished first.”

  “Nope.” He took her pencil away. “Allyson’s due to arrive in a couple of hours. You’re not going to want to practice once she’s here.” He put his hands on the tops of her arms and eased her out of the seat.

  “Okay, okay.” She followed him into the living room, where he’d already arranged cushions and pillows. “You’re really enthusiastic about this, aren’t you?”

  “Everyone says it helps—working with the contractions instead of fighting them.” He knelt on the floor and held out his hand. “Shelley Hightower… Harmon. Come on down!”

  She put her palm against his warm one and let him ease her to the floor. They fussed with pillows a few minutes, then Zach sat back on his heels. “Comfortable?”

  “I’ll sleep like this tonight, I think.”

  He shook his head. “Breathe first. Ready?”

&nb
sp; “Ready.”

  “Deep, cleansing breath.” He breathed in and out with her. “Again. Now, I’m gonna count six for breathing in and six for breathing out. Go.”

  Amazing, how easy it was to relax, listening to his mellow voice. While she sat and breathed, he practiced some of the suggestions the book made for increasing relaxation—gentle circular rubs on the thigh, the shoulder, the abdomen. Shelley practically purred. She was so tranquil when they finished the final cleansing breath, she didn’t move a muscle.

  “Shelley?” His words were just above a whisper. She didn’t answer, kept her eyes closed. “Shelley?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Allyson will be here soon. We need to leave for the airport.”

  “That’s right.” She opened her eyes slowly. Zach was closer than she’d realized, just a breath away. The soft light in the living room glinted off his hair and in his eyes. As she watched, he dropped his gaze to her lips. And then looked up again, asking for permission.

  Shelley lifted her hand to his cheek. The smallest of pressures drew him forward. Their mouths met, parted, clung again. Zach shifted to brace one arm on the floor on her other side. Then his fingers closed in her hair. The kiss got serious.

  After all the pain, the distance, the strangeness, she’d finally come home. Their mouths danced, slowly, then faster, taking and giving in time to the beat of their hearts. Demand was there, yes, and barely leashed passion.

  But this kiss did more. This kiss asked for and granted forgiveness. Comforted and consoled. Confessed and reprieved.

  Shelley lifted her eyelids when Zach at last pulled back. The tenderness on his face nearly brought her to tears. They simply stared, for a moment, connected by their hands and the meeting of their eyes.

  AN HOUR LATER, Allyson pulled away from the flight attendant holding her hand and rushed into the waiting area, straight into Shelley’s arms. “Hi, Mommy! Happy Thanksgiving!”

  “Definitely.” Shelley hugged hard, blinking back tears. “Welcome home, baby.”

  “Uncle Zach! You’re here, too? Cool!” Allyson pulled away long enough to give him a hug. “I had the best seat on the airplane—right up front, almost in the place where the pilot sits. And they let me go in and watch for a couple of minutes, but I had to be real quiet so the pilots could concentrate. And I got soda and cookies and crackers.”

  “I guess you enjoyed the flight.” Shelley glanced at Zach with a smile, caught his grin.

  “I think it would be so neat to be able to fly a plane. Can you fly a plane, Uncle Zach?”

  “Not one of my skills, Ally Cat.”

  “Maybe we could learn together. Do you want to learn, too, Mommy?”

  “Um, we’ll see. Have you got your luggage tickets?”

  Shelley showed her ID to the attendant so Allyson could leave, then they went to baggage claim to wait for her luggage.

  Allyson didn’t stop talking. “You should see Jack—he smiles and he holds things. He doesn’t talk yet, though. Claire says that’ll take a while. How is your baby, Mommy?”

  “Just fine. About ready to meet big sister.”

  “I get to hold Jack, and he doesn’t even cry. And I can change diapers, too.” She wrinkled up her nose. “I don’t like it much.”

  Zach laughed. “Join the crowd!”

  “But they have to be changed,” Allyson informed him seriously. “Or else the baby gets a rash and gets really grumpy.”

  “Has that happened to Jack?”

  “Nope. Claire and Daddy are real careful to keep him dry.”

  Shelley wished them luck. She remembered diaper rash…all too well.

  Zach pulled Allyson’s bags off the conveyer belt. “You’re now officially here, Ally Cat. Let’s go.”

  Once buckled into the Mercedes and on the way to Zach’s place, Shelley knew the moment of truth had arrived. “Allyson? I need to explain a couple of things.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re not going up to…to my house tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…” No way to say this but straight out. “I’m living at Zach’s house now.”

  “You are?” There was a pause. “Why?”

  Straight to the point of no return. “Because Zach and I got married.”

  This pause lasted even longer. “You did?” Allyson’s voice sounded small.

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “About a month ago.”

  Another silence. “Did you have a wedding like Daddy and Claire’s, with everybody dancing and stuff?”

  “No. We went to Las Vegas where you can get married right away. Nobody else was there.”

  “You didn’t want anybody there?”

  Shelley couldn’t answer. From the passenger seat, Zach cleared his throat. “We thought it would be better to get married first and then tell everybody.”

  “Oh.” An even longer silence. “But what about…?” The little girl’s voice trailed off.

  “What about…?” Shelley stopped the car at a traffic signal and took the chance to glance at her daughter. Wide gray eyes and a puzzled frown predicted trouble.

  “What about the baby’s dad? Won’t he be mad that you married Uncle Zach?”

  Zach took the lead. “That’s me, Ally Cat.”

  “Who’s you?”

  “I’m the dad.” Shelley cast him a grateful glance.

  Allyson didn’t ask for clarification. A long, tense while later, she spoke. “Mommy?”

  “Yes?” This would be the worst part.

  “I thought you said the baby’s dad didn’t want to be part of our family.”

  Shelley felt as much as saw Zach flinch. She drew a deep breath. “You see…”

  Her daughter didn’t allow her to finish. “Uncle Zach cares about us.”

  “I do, indeed.”

  At eight, Allyson was old enough and smart enough to connect pieces of information for herself. “So how,” she wanted to know next, “could he be your baby’s daddy?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SHELLEY TIGHTENED her grip on the wheel. She should have said this to him first. “I was wrong about that, Allyson. When he found out, Zach…” How could she put the last six months of struggle into words? “Zach told me that he did want to be part of our family.”

  “So why didn’t you have a big wedding? Are you keeping it a secret? Does Daddy know?”

  So many tough questions. “I haven’t told your father yet. But it’s not a secret.”

  “You coulda told me.” The sulky voice made no secret of Allyson’s hurt feelings.

  They were almost home. Shelley let the situation rest until they got into the house and put Allyson’s bags in the baby’s room. Then she sat down in the new rocker and pulled her daughter into her lap.

  “Mad at me?”

  Allyson sniffed, sitting stiffly in Shelley’s arms.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She looked up at Zach, who leaned against the door frame. He gave her a thumbs-up and vanished, pulling the door softly closed behind him.

  “I wish I could explain all of this better,” Shelley began. “Zach and I had some…problems to work out, Allyson. We did things the wrong way and made a baby before we decided to get married.”

  “Why?”

  “Because sometimes even grown-ups make mistakes.” Shelley smiled ruefully. Maybe especially grown-ups. “But since we weren’t married, it’s taken us a long time to get to the place where we think we can make a family together. I didn’t want—”

  Allyson was listening. “What?”

  “I didn’t want to marry Zach and then go through a divorce like your father and I did. That wouldn’t be good for you, or for the baby. Or me, or Zach. So it took a while for me to decide this would be better than not being married.”

  Her daughter turned and showed Shelley a reproachful face. “You didn’t tell me the truth.”

  “I did—just not all of it.” She picked up a black curl to play with, hopin
g for forgiveness.

  Allyson pulled her head away. “Daddy says only part of the truth might as well be a lie.”

  “I think that depends on why you only tell part of the truth. If you’re trying to keep from hurting somebody, maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, I was worried you would be upset if you knew the baby’s dad was Zach, but that he didn’t want us to be a family. You’re such good friends, that might have made you mad at him.”

  “Yeah.” The straight back relaxed a bit.

  “Then, when I realized he’d changed his mind, I didn’t want to tell you on the phone that I’d gotten married without you. You deserved to be there, and I feel bad that you weren’t.”

  Allyson twisted her hands together in her lap. “I coulda been your flower girl.”

  She risked putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I know. That would have been so special.” They sat in silence for a few seconds. “I did take your baby cap with me.”

  “You did?”

  “I did. So you see, you were there…in my heart.”

  The girl in her arms sighed. “Okay, I guess I’m not mad anymore.” She turned to cuddle around the bulk of Shelley’s stomach. “This is a neat house. Are you gonna live here forever?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how everything works out.”

  “Will I have to sleep in the baby’s room all the time?”

  “This visit. Maybe next time, we can do something different.” Which could only mean Shelley would be sleeping…with Zach?

  “Okay.”

  The next morning, Allyson called her dad to wish him happy Thanksgiving. Shelley tapped her on the shoulder. “Let me talk to him when you’re finished, baby. I’ll tell him…about Zach.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” For an eight-year-old, Allyson was great at keeping secrets. She handed over the phone without breathing a word.

  Dex came on the line. “Hi, Shelley. How are you?”

  “Just fine. How’s life with the new baby?”

  “Hectic. We miss having Allyson’s help. She’s great for running up and down stairs to fetch diapers and blankets. And she keeps Jack entertained for us.”