Practice Makes Pregnant

by Lois Faye Dyer

  He gave the waiter their order, green salads and grilled fish with sautéed mixed vegetables. Plain food without rich sauces that might upset her fragile stomach, Allison noted with relief.

  “And I’ll have coffee.” He handed the menu to the waiter and glanced at Allison, lifting a brow in inquiry. “What would you like to drink? Tea? Milk?”

  His gaze held hers, and Allison had a swift mental image of him leaning over her in the lamplit bedroom, heat flickering in the depths of his eyes when he’d handed her the glass of warm milk. She should never have allowed him into her bedroom last night, she thought. And she wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been so tired, her defenses weakened. Despite the fact that he’d been an absolute gentleman, the air had been charged with sexual tension. Just as it was now.

  “I’ll have herbal tea, thank you,” she told the waiter.

  Neither of them spoke until the young man left. Then Jorge settled back in his chair and eyed her, turning his glass in slow circles on the tabletop. “Have you made a decision?”

  “Yes, I have.” Calm though she was on the outside, Allison was shaking with nerves on the inside. Amazingly enough, her hand didn’t tremble when she picked up her glass and took a sip of water. Carefully, she returned the stemmed crystal to the snowy tablecloth and met his gaze.

  “I’ve thought about what you said last night—” she paused, searching for words.

  “And?” he prompted.

  His fingers stilled on the stem of his water glass, and Allison realized that his indolent posture was a sham. Beneath the outward appearance of mild interest, his muscles were taut, his jawline tense.

  I’m not the only one unsure of this situation, she thought.

  The insight calmed her nerves. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze.

  “And I agree. Our baby should have both parents in her life full-time. I think we should get married.” Fierce emotion flared in his eyes, and his grip tightened on the glass with punishing force. “For the sake of the baby,” she added hastily.

  Jorge’s eyes narrowed, his expression shuttered. “Of course,” he murmured. “For the baby.” For one long moment he was silent, his gaze fastened on hers. Then he looked away, lifted his glass and drank, the strong column of his throat moving rhythmically as he swallowed. When he set down the glass and looked back at her, his gaze was unreadable. “I think we should get married as soon as possible. Do you have any preferences as to how or where?”

  “No, I…” The waiter returned with their food, interrupting Allison. She didn’t respond to his question until they were alone once again. “I suppose being married sooner rather than later is best.”

  “I think so,” he commented. “Do you want to make the arrangements or shall I?”

  “I could do it.” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Although I have no idea what’s necessary in New York State.”

  “I can have my secretary find out, if you’d like.”

  “That would be great. It’s not that I don’t want to,” she said hastily. “But I have a huge exam in contract law this week and what with my workload at Manhattan Multiples and studying for the test, I’m afraid I won’t have time to track down the information we need.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He picked up his fork. “I’ll have Laurie research the details and make the arrangements. All you have to do is give me a list of any guests you want invited and show up on the right date. And I’ll pick you up, so you don’t even have to worry about that.”

  She looked at him, a wry smile curving her mouth. “I have absolutely nothing to wear. Would you mind if I appeared wearing a sweatshirt and jeans?”

  His eyes went hot. “Wear the dress you wore the night we met.”

  Heat singed her cheeks and throat. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s an evening gown, not a wedding dress.”

  “I don’t care.” His gaze flicked over her, halted by the table that blocked his view, before moving back upward, lingering on the curve of her breasts, nearly hidden beneath the tailored black suit and white linen blouse. “Wear jeans or nothing at all. Just as long as you’re there and say ‘I do,’ I really don’t care what you wear.”

  “Well, I do,” she insisted, refusing to evade his eyes and the undeniable sexual intent in his gaze and words. “I’m not getting married in jeans.”

  “Fine. I’ll get you a dress.”

  “You will not! I’ll buy my own wedding dress.”

  “Allison,” he said softly, steel running beneath the gentle tones. “You don’t have to do this alone. You said yourself that your schedule is crazy this coming week. I can make the arrangements, find a dress, reserve the judge. You can focus on studying.”

  Torn, she bit her lip and considered his words.

  “Are you always this stubborn when someone offers to help you?” His deep voice was laced with amusement. Startled, Allison realized that she’d been frowning fiercely at her glass and glanced up to find him watching her, a half smile curving his mouth.

  “I’m not sure. The subject doesn’t come up that often.”

  His gaze darkened. “It will from now on.”

  “Yes, I know.” She wouldn’t be alone anymore. It was a startling concept and one she could barely grasp. She’d been a solitary child on the fringes of her parents’ busy life, and since moving to New York after school, she’d been consumed with work and law classes. Except for Zoe, she’d never really allowed herself to rely on anyone.

  “Good. Don’t worry about the wedding arrangements or the dress. I’ll handle it.” He gestured to her plate. “Eat while the food’s hot. I’m guessing the baby likes his food warm, and maybe you do, too?”

  She laughed. “Yes. I think it’s safe to say that we both do.” She focused on her still-steaming plate with its cedar-grilled salmon flanked by a sautéed mix of green zucchini, sweet yellow and red bell peppers and fat brown mushrooms and abruptly realized that she was hungry. Very hungry, now that the issue of the wedding was resolved and the butterflies had stopped batting their wings about in her stomach.

  It wasn’t until her plate was half-empty that she realized Jorge hadn’t said a word in several minutes.

  She looked up and found him watching her, a slightly bemused look on his face.

  “What?” She put down her fork.

  “Don’t stop eating.” He leaned across the table, picked up her fork and tucked it back into her hand. “I can’t tell you what a relief it is to see a woman actually enjoy food, instead of nibbling at salad and complaining about the calories.”

  “I don’t have to worry about calories, as a rule. But since becoming pregnant, I’m afraid I’ll have to, and soon.” Self-conscious, Allison tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “Are you gaining weight from the baby already? Isn’t it too early?”

  “I don’t know that I can blame my extra six pounds on the baby, it’s just that I suddenly have an enormous appetite.” She smiled at him. “If I keep eating like this, I’ll be as big as an elephant by the time she arrives.”

  “I notice you keep calling the baby ‘she,’” he commented, his gaze indulgent as she resumed eating. “Do you know for sure that it’s a girl?”

  Allison shook her head. “No, it’s too soon to have an ultrasound to determine the sex.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I notice you keep referring to the baby as ‘he.’ Do you want a boy?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t care one way or the other, just as long as both of you are healthy.”

  Allison was immeasurably reassured by his comment. She knew that it was the baby’s health that was most important to him, but that he included her in his concern made her feel cherished.

  Jorge returned Allison to her office after lunch and took the long route back to his own. He wasn’t ready to face his colleagues; he needed time to consider the changes in his life that Allison’s agreement to marriage would mean. He strode away from her building, welcoming the anonymity of the busy city sidewalks.

&nbs
p; Freed from the need to control his reaction, the relief and fierce satisfaction that he’d felt when Allison had told him that she agreed to marry him, returned full force. He didn’t question the compulsion he felt to bind her to him by every means possible, including marriage. Far from being disappointed that she was pregnant, he was relieved that he had a legitimate reason to demand a place in her life. He knew that she responded to him on a very basic level; she couldn’t hide her body’s reaction to him, any more than he could control his to her. But there was no avoiding the fact that he read fear and wariness in her eyes whenever he moved close, either physically or emotionally. The difference between the Allison who had spent the night with him and the Allison he’d just spent the past hour with at the restaurant was puzzling.

  He frowned, crammed his hands in his coat pockets and walked faster. The unbuttoned topcoat flew open, but he didn’t notice the brisk breeze.

  He’d heard that pregnancy could make a woman weepy and more emotional. But he didn’t remember anyone ever telling him that their wife suddenly became afraid of them.

  He wanted the woman he’d spent the night with in his life and in his bed. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be fine, that marriage and a baby would work out for the two of them. But every time he was with her, the look in her eyes backed him away. He had no idea why she would be afraid of him, but he was determined to find out her reasons and do whatever was necessary to erase her wariness.

  He had to, for unless he found a way to reassure her that she and their baby were safe with him, their marriage would turn into a nightmare for both of them.

  I can do this. Determination firmed his chin. They’d get married as soon as he could make the arrangements, and afterward, when they were living together, he’d have time and opportunity to convince her.

  He reached his office and punched the intercom for his secretary as he was shrugging out of his coat.

  “Laurie? Will you come in, please?”

  He tossed his coat over a chair back, dropped into his desk chair and was thumbing through his calendar when his secretary entered the office.

  He glanced up and waved her to a seat opposite the desk, frowning at the notes jotted on his calendar.

  “I need to have my calendar cleared for a week, or at least a long weekend, starting the day of my wedding.”

  Nearly sixty years old and unflappable in any emergency, Laurie McPherson had worked for Jorge for five years and never once had reacted to news of any sort with less than professional, calm efficiency. So when her jaw dropped in shock and she gasped, it startled him.

  “Laurie? What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She stared at him. “You’re getting married? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone. You haven’t said a word.”

  Jorge smiled slowly, delighted at her look of shock. “You mean I’ve surprised you? I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “Hmph.” She shifted in her chair and cleared her throat. “You’ll have to admit, marriage isn’t something you’ve ever mentioned.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t.” He hadn’t even considered marriage since his canceled engagement to Celeste. And their engagement hadn’t generated a powerful interest in marriage; indeed, he’d been so busy at work that he’d listened only halfheartedly to her plans. He hadn’t cared how far off the wedding date was. But with Allison, he realized, he wanted his ring on her finger as soon as he could arrange the ceremony. He looked at his calendar again. “I told Allison that I’d take care of the license, an appointment with the judge, her dress and whatever else needs to be done. Can you find out what I need to do to get a marriage license and if there’s a waiting period before we can actually have the ceremony?”

  “Sure.” She jotted notes on her notepad. “Have you picked a date for the wedding?”

  “Just as soon as we can get arrangements finalized. This weekend, if possible, next week at the latest.”

  To her credit, Laurie didn’t bat an eyelash at the time line. “Very well. What judge would you like to have officiate at the ceremony?”

  “Judge Maddock.”

  “And the wedding dress for the bride? What size, style—traditional or modern—color?”

  Jorge had a swift mental image of Allison, her creamy skin soft and lush against black lace, auburn hair slipping through his fingers like liquid fire.

  But she’d told him that she didn’t want to wear the evening gown he’d first seen her in, and it was black.

  “Not stark white. Can you find a dress the color of pale butter? With lace, lots of lace. And a straight skirt, slit up the sides.”

  Laurie’s pen poised over the paper, her eyebrows lifting. “Do you have a picture of the dress you want for her?”

  “No. But it had a low neckline that was sort of off the shoulder.” Jorge had no clue what the proper name for Allison’s black lace ballgown would be, he just knew he wanted to see her say “I do” in that dress. And if she didn’t want to wear that specific dress, then he’d find the closest thing possible.

  “Hmm. I’ll see if I can find some possible choices for you to look at. What size?”

  Jorge’s palms itched. He knew the shape and feel of Allison, and could make a guess at what her measurements had been the night she’d shared his bed, but what changes had the baby made? Were her breasts bigger? Her waist a bit less slim?

  “I don’t know. I’ll find out and get back to you.”

  “All right.” Laurie glanced at her notes. “Do you want reservations in town, or are you going away for the honeymoon?”

  “Away.” He didn’t have a clue where, but he knew that he wanted Allison to himself, far enough away from New York City to prevent any interruptions from work.

  “Do you want me to make reservations?”

  “No.” With a sudden flash of inspiration, Jorge knew where he wanted to go. Ross had a cabin in upstate New York. Picturesque and located in the woods, with a stream running outside the back door and a friendly small town within walking distance, it would be the perfect getaway. “No, I’ll do that.”

  “Okay. If you want this arranged by next week, I’d better get busy.” She rose and walked quickly to the door, pausing on the threshold to look back at Jorge. “The research department dropped off the material you requested on search-and-seizure issues in the Kinsey murder. It’s in the blue folder in your in-box.”

  “Thanks.” Jorge returned his calendar to the corner of his desk and retrieved the blue file. Within moments he was absorbed in the latest stage of trial preparation for the prominent New York City businessman charged with murdering his high-profile partner.

  Allison left her office that evening to find that clouds once again obscured the sun, and cold raindrops spattered the people crowding the sidewalk.

  She sighed, tugged her collar higher around her neck and hesitated, reluctant to face the wet, chilly weather. Just as she was about to step out from beneath the shelter of the building’s metal awning, a hand closed over the curve of her shoulder.

  Startled, she spun about, her eyes widening with surprise.

  “Jorge. What are you doing here?”

  “Giving you a ride home.” He nodded toward the curb, where the green Jaguar sat wedged between a van and a taxi. “Or to campus, if you’re going to class.”

  “No. I’m going home.”

  He snapped open an umbrella and raised it over her head. “Home it is.”

  His hand on her waist, he urged her toward the car, shielding her with the umbrella as she ducked her head and slipped into the passenger seat.

  The interior of the car was blessedly warm. Allison lowered her coat collar and tugged off her gloves.

  Jorge pulled open the door and slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door quickly behind him.

  “Nasty weather,” he muttered, turning to toss the wet, folded umbrella on to the floor in the back.

  “Yes, it is,” she murmured, shifting to fasten her seat belt.
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  He turned the key in the ignition and a stream of warm air heated Allison’s bare legs beneath the hem of her coat.

  “Okay?”

  “Lovely.” She smiled at him, touched by his thoughtfulness in saving her from the wet, chilly, late-afternoon commute to her apartment.

  His eyes darkened, his gaze shifted to her mouth. Then, without comment, he turned his attention to pulling into traffic.

  “I’m surprised that you keep a car in the city,” she commented as they inched forward in the heavy stream of cars.

  He shrugged. “I don’t use it often, usually only on weekends. I catch taxis or hire a car and driver during the week. But I had to drive to Connecticut for a case I’m handling and returned to town with barely enough time to make class last night.” He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to the windshield. “What’s on your schedule for tonight?”

  “Studying and sleeping. Not necessarily in that order.”

  His gaze flicked over her assessingly. “Maybe sleep first?”

  “Maybe.” Allison couldn’t stifle a yawn. “Probably.”

  “Then I’ll drop you at your apartment and head home.” He glanced at her, then back at traffic once again. “There’s a possibility that we can have an appointment with a judge for a civil ceremony sometime next week.”

  Allison’s eyes widened. “So soon?”

  “I don’t see any point in waiting. We agreed that sooner was better than later, didn’t we?”

  “Yes.” She bit her lip, mentally counting days. Barely a week. Her stomach tightened with nerves. “Is there anything we need to do before then?”

  “Just pick up the license, and we can do that on our lunch hour tomorrow, if that fits with your schedule.”

  “Yes, of course.” Tension skittered over her skin, tightening her fingers around her gloves.

  “And I need to know your measurements.”

  Her head jerked around, her startled gaze meeting his briefly before he focused on the heavy traffic around them.

  “For your dress.” His voice lowered, a faint huskiness running below the deep tones, “I could have guessed, but I thought carrying the baby might have made changes and altered your dress size.”