Practice Makes Pregnant

by Lois Faye Dyer

  Allison felt heat flood her cheeks. She thought about the new bras she’d bought and how much more comfortable they were, frantically wondering if she looked obviously bigger. Sure, her suits were a trifle more snug, but they still fit. Then she remembered she’d told him earlier at lunch that she’d gained six pounds. “I’ve gained weight but not enough to change my dress size.” Yet, she thought. She told him the size she currently wore and he nodded without comment.

  “Have you made a list of people you want to invite?”

  “It’s a very short list, just one person, actually.” She’d already decided not to tell anyone at work until after the ceremony. She hoped that presenting them with a fait accompli would cause fewer questions than a pending wedding, although she knew that Eloise would want to know everything about her new husband. She planned to ask Zoe to be her maid of honor over the weekend, just as soon as Zoe returned from visiting her parents upstate.

  “Would you like my secretary to contact them, or do you want to do it?”

  “I’ll ask Zoe.” Allison caught the quick, questioning glance he shot her. “Zoe Armbruster. She has the apartment directly across the hall from mine.”

  “Ah, I think that covers all the questions I need answered immediately.”

  Allison’s eyes drifted closed. She woke as Jorge slowed and nosed the car into the curb. Glancing out the window, she realized that he’d parked in the no-parking, loading zone in front of her apartment building. She unbuckled her seat belt and restrained a shiver at the thought of the chill air between the warm car and the building’s entry hall.

  Jorge switched off the engine. The resulting silence in the comfortable leather interior of the Jag was suddenly very intimate.

  “Do you have any questions about the arrangements for the wedding?” he asked, releasing his seat belt and half turning to face her.

  “No, not that I can think of.”

  “I know this isn’t going to be the wedding every girl dreams of,” he said gravely, holding her gaze with his. “But if there’s anything you want, anything I can accomplish in a week, you’ll have it. Just tell me what it is.”

  Allison fought the urge to cry and only partially succeeded, her voice thick with unshed tears, “That’s so sweet of you, Jorge.”

  “It’s not sweet,” he growled. “I’m not sweet.”

  Streaks of color marked his cheekbones, and Allison realized that he was embarrassed. She laughed softly, the low sound made husky by the lump in her throat, and without thought, lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “Maybe not, but I think it’s very kind of you to consider my feelings.”

  His eyes darkened. He covered her hand with his, and she could feel the faint roughness of his razor stubble.

  “I’ll always consider your feelings, Allison. I want you to be happy.”

  She could feel the tears trembling on her lashes spill over and trickle slowly down her cheeks.

  “I want you to be happy, too, Jorge.” And I’m desperately afraid that I’m ruining your life.

  “Hey,” he murmured. His hand left hers to cup her face, his thumb smoothing away the dampness from her cheek. “Don’t cry.” With easy strength he lifted her, cradling her on his lap, one arm across her back and waist. His fingers returned to wipe away the last of her tears. “We’ll be fine, sweetheart. You, me and the baby. Don’t worry.”

  His words brought fresh tears. Allison wanted to ask him how he could be so sure, but his thumb brushed the dampness on her cheeks, then stroked across her bottom lip, and the question was forgotten under the flood of heat that shook her. His gaze lowered, fastened intently on the slow, dragging movements of his thumb against her mouth.

  The heat turned into a furnace, burning away the caution that ruled her. Allison’s heart shuddered. Jorge’s lashes lifted as his gaze left her mouth and met hers. She caught her breath at the raw emotion in the depths of his eyes before his arms tightened. He crushed her closer, his head lowering, and his mouth covered hers.

  It was like coming home.

  I’ve missed you so. It was a cry from her heart. In the few seconds of coherence before she was lost, Allison realized that she hadn’t forgotten the passion that had overwhelmed her the night she spent with Jorge. She’d just refused to remember.

  Now that feeling returned in an avalanche of emotion. She was swamped with a mix of love and desire so strong that she couldn’t think, couldn’t protest when he dragged her closer. He kissed her as if he was starved for the taste of her, the fingers of one hand threaded through her hair to shape her head and hold her still for the slow, erotic thrust of his tongue against hers.

  Allison shuddered, her fingers closing into fists over the fine wool of his lapels.

  The impatient blast of a truck horn shattered the spell that held them. Jorge lifted his head from hers, his eyes heavy-lidded, glittering behind the fringe of black lashes, and turned his head to look behind them.

  He bit off a curse, his arms tightening in instinctive rejection of the need to let her go. Then he eased her off his lap and back to her seat.

  “We’re parked in a loading zone and there’s a furniture truck behind us.”

  Allison could only nod at his explanation, disoriented from the sudden transition from passion to sanity.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Jorge thrust open the door and rounded the car to pull open the passenger door. Allison left the warm cave of the car and stepped out into the chilly, brisk air that was thankfully free of raindrops. She was grateful for the shelter of Jorge’s body when he tucked her against his side, walked her to the building and into the relative warmth of the entryway.

  “I won’t come up,” he said. “I’d be tempted to stay and you need to sleep.”

  His hand still rested on her waist as he turned her to face him, brushed his fingertips over her temple and tucked her hair behind her ear, then bent to press his mouth against hers for one fleeting moment.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at lunch. We’ll get the wedding license, then I’ll feed you, okay?”

  Allison murmured her assent. Jorge waited until she let herself into the building before he turned and left; she stood motionless, watching him through the glass in the old-fashioned door as he moved quickly down the steps, entered his car and drove off. It wasn’t until the lumbering furniture truck pulled into the empty parking spot that she turned and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor.

  Her apartment was blessedly warm. Allison hung up her coat and headed for the bedroom, shedding her suit and heels for the comfort of knit pajama pants and a long-sleeved top. Despite the tiredness that had dragged at her all afternoon, she was wide awake now. She turned down the bed, then padded into the kitchen to brew a mug of green tea. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she took a carton of yogurt from the refrigerator and ate it slowly, preoccupied with her thoughts.

  If she’d entertained any thoughts that the sexual chemistry between them had faded in the weeks since the night she’d spent with Jorge, kissing him had proven her wrong. The connection between them was every bit as explosive as she’d remembered. Perhaps stronger, because now she knew where those heart-pounding kisses could lead.

  She frowned, her hand pausing in midair with a spoonful of creamy strawberry yogurt.

  Was it a good thing, or a bad thing, that they obviously shared a powerful chemistry? True, sex may be a bond that drew them closer together, but was that enough for a successful marriage?

  Not likely, she acknowledged. They still moved in different worlds—and she wasn’t the sort of woman to keep him enthralled with sex forever. Especially since she was going to grow bigger with the baby. On the other hand… She frowned, absentmindedly popping the spoon in her mouth and swallowing the yogurt without tasting it. She’d assumed that night with Jorge was the result of too much champagne and an uncharacteristic, reckless abandon on her part. Was it really, or had the passion and headlong sensuality she’d experienced been a product of meeting the r
ight man? What if she really was capable of repeating the magic of that night? What if mind-blowing sex was the natural result of the potent chemistry that sparked between them? And what if it would always happen when she and Jorge were together?

  Behind her, the kettle whistled, recalling her to the everyday normalcy of her small kitchenette, with its stack of law books waiting on the table.

  She sighed and switched off the kettle. Moments later, carrying her mug of hot tea and a thick volume on contract law, she headed back to the bedroom where she plumped the pillows against the headboard and crawled into bed.

  The following day she once again sat across the table from Jorge in a restaurant, steaming plates on the table in front of them.

  “Should I have Laurie make arrangements with a moving company to transfer your things to my apartment this weekend?”

  Allison froze. “No. Thank you.”

  He eyed her across the width of the small table. “We haven’t discussed where we’ll live, but since my place is bigger than yours, I assumed that you’d move in with me. I have a two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side. I’m using the second bedroom as an office at the moment, but we can clear it out and turn it into a nursery for the baby.”

  The thought of moving in with him was daunting. Not that Allison hadn’t thought about it. She had. But coming on the heels of obtaining the license that made the approaching marriage official, the idea was intimidating.

  “I don’t have anything packed,” she began. His eyes narrowed as she continued, “I haven’t had time, and to be honest, I don’t know when I’ll find time in the next week or two.”

  “The next week or two?” he repeated slowly. His jaw tightened. He gave up all pretense of eating and leaned back in his chair, his gaze assessing. “When, exactly, do you think you’ll find time to pack?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.” She lifted her chin, returning his stare.

  “Well, I suggest you think about it now.” A hint of steel underlaid his deep tones.

  Allison knew she had to address the issue of where they would live, and on some level she also knew she was being unreasonable, but she didn’t like being pushed into a decision. No matter how politely it was done, she didn’t like feeling cornered.

  “I will.” Her words were even, deliberate. He acknowledged them with a further narrowing of his eyes, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He stared at her for a long, charged moment before he shifted and abruptly picked up his glass and drank.

  “Are you sure you don’t want your parents at the ceremony?” he asked, changing the subject so completely that Allison blinked in surprise.

  “Yes, I’m very sure. Their schedules are always extremely busy. I’ll call them after the ceremony, perhaps they’ll meet us for dinner on their next trip to New York.” She avoided his gaze by focusing intently on cutting a small, bite-size piece from an asparagus spear.

  “I’ll look forward to meeting them.”

  His words were expressionless. Allison glanced up at him, but he was cutting his steak and she couldn’t read his eyes.

  It occurred to her that she had no idea if he was inviting family to the wedding.

  “Will your parents be at the wedding?”

  “Unfortunately, no. My mother’s out of town and my father passed away some time ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Then you must have been very young when you lost him,” she ventured, suddenly aware that she knew very little about his family. How can I marry a man I know so little about?

  Panic fluttered in her midsection. She laid down her fork, picking up her glass to sip water and give her uneasy tummy time to settle.

  “I was eight.”

  “Oh, Jorge.” Shock and sympathy that he had lost a parent at such a tender age flooded her. “How did it happen?”

  “He was killed in a convenience store robbery in Brooklyn.”

  “That’s terrible.” Allison shook her head, stunned at the words.

  “Yes, it was,” Jorge murmured, watching her face. “We stopped in for a gallon of milk and it cost him his life.”

  “We?” Allison was aghast. “Were you with him?”

  “Yes.”

  Without thinking, she impulsively reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. “What an awful thing for a child to see.”

  He threaded his fingers through hers, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the sensitive skin of her palm.

  “It was a long time ago, Allison.”

  “But it must have had a tremendous impact on you, not only to lose your father when you were so young, but to lose him in such a violent way.”

  “I suppose so.” He glanced down at their entwined hands. “I swore that when I grew up, I’d do everything I could to keep that from happening to another family.” He looked up, his gaze thoughtful as he searched her face. “I suppose that’s why I became a district attorney—so I could put criminals in jail and keep as many of them as possible out of convenience stores.”

  A small smile curved his mouth. Allison’s heart jolted, her breath caught.

  “That’s a very good reason to be an attorney,” she said softly, her own lips curving irresistibly upward in response to his.

  “I think you’re right,” he acknowledged. “And you?” he prompted. “Why do you want to become an attorney?”

  “I want to make a difference in the world, to protect innocent children and animals from the bad things in the world that can harm them.”

  “Is that why you were at the save-the-whales fund-raiser?”

  Allison laughed. “No, I went to the fund-raiser because Zoe told me I’d been living like a nun and dragged me out of my apartment.”

  “Remind me to tell Zoe thank you.”

  “I will,” she murmured, her pulse beating faster at the heat in his dark eyes.

  Jorge lay awake late that night, thinking about the soft, melting look in Allison’s amber eyes when he’d turned her hand over and kissed her palm.

  Despite her quick retreat behind polite wariness when the waiter approached with the dessert menu, he was satisfied that he’d made a start at reaching beyond the emotional walls she hid behind. Combined with the kiss they’d shared in the car in front of her apartment the night before, her softening at the restaurant had him feeling far more confident that he would eventually knock down her walls completely.

  The drapes were open, allowing light and shadow to dance across the ceiling. He frowned at the white plaster, following the flicker of light and dark without knowing he did so. His thoughts turned inward, remembering her laughter at lunch, her earnest answer when he’d asked her why she wanted to be an attorney. Those moments when she was relaxed and comfortable with him gave him hope, for he’d caught glimpses of the Allison he’d spent that unforgettable night with. That was the Allison he wanted to find again.

  Chapter Five

  The peal of the doorbell woke Allison on Saturday morning. She opened one eye, peered at the clock, groaned and closed her eyes again. The doorbell rang again and she pulled a pillow over her head.

  Someone knocked on the door, then rang the bell, then knocked again.

  “That has to be Zoe.” Allison shoved the pillow and blankets aside and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes and yawning as she found her slippers and caught up her robe from the foot of the bed. She shrugged into the blue terry cloth robe, tying it around her as she crossed the living room, and paused with one hand on the doorknob, belatedly remembering to be cautious. “Who is it?”

  “Zoe. Let me in.”

  Allison pulled open the door, and Zoe whisked past her.

  “It’s about time you woke up. Did you stay out late partying last night, I hope?”

  Allison laughed as she pushed the door closed and walked past Zoe, heading for the kitchen. “No.” She yawned and pulled open the cabinet to take out the coffee can.

  “No?” Zoe
set a jar of jam on the small table, then pulled out one of the dinette chairs and sat, propping her chin on her hand and eyeing Allison with interest. “Then what were you doing? Please tell me you were doing something fun—don’t tell me you stayed up late studying again.”

  “Well, I was studying…”

  Zoe groaned and rolled her eyes.

  “But I haven’t been studying the entire time you’ve been gone. Is that from your mom?” Allison pointed at the jar on the table.

  “Yes. Raspberry jam. And don’t try to distract me. Tell me what you’ve been doing while I’ve been gone.”

  “It’s a long story.” Allison poured water into the coffeemaker and measured decaf blend into the filter.

  “I have all day,” Zoe said promptly.

  Allison switched the brew button on and faced Zoe, leaning back against the counter. “Do you remember Jorge, the man I left the save-the-whales fund-raiser with?”

  “You mean the gorgeous, tall, dark and sexy guy?” Zoe grinned impishly. “Oh, yeah, I remember him. He was pretty unforgettable. What about him?”

  “He came by the office to see me. We’ve had lunch a couple of times.”

  “Excellent!” Delighted, Zoe leaned forward. “And?” she prompted, “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Yes. We’re getting married next week. I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened and she blinked slowly. “Say that again? Because I must have misunderstood what you just said. I thought you said you’re getting married next week.”

  “I did. I am.”

  The shock and disbelief on Zoe’s face were easily readable. Allison knew that evasive answers wouldn’t work with Zoe; her friend would never settle for less than the truth. Zoe’s mouth opened and Allison held up a hand.

  “Coffee first, Zoe, then I’ll explain everything.”

  Zoe jumped up and opened the cupboard next to Allison, took out two mugs and, with complete disregard for the coffeemaker, expertly yanked out the pot and substituted one of the mugs beneath the slow stream of black brew. She filled the remaining mug with steaming hot coffee and handed it to Allison.