His Miracle Baby

by Karen Sandler

  He returned to the house agitated and restless. At a loss for what to do until Shani returned, he pulled out the large mixing bowl Mrs. Singh had shoved in the back of a cupboard. Bread-making had been his therapy from his early teens, when he’d been an angry, resentful kid on the edge of getting into serious trouble. One of the housekeepers had taught him the basics one day.

  He did it all by hand, from the first mixing of flour and yeast to kneading the sticky dough into a soft warm ball. But not even the perfume of freshly baked bread had eased his restiveness as he waited for Shani to come back home. It had been all he could do to keep from storming over there when she pulled in just after six. He’d forced himself to wait until seven, taking time dressing for a fund-raising event he had no desire to attend.

  Now, standing on Shani’s doorstep, Logan strafed her with his gaze, from the sleek dark brown hair held back with combs, past the black velvet cape, to her toes peeking from the hem of her dress. As he stared, she slipped past him, shivering in the chilly November air. The faintest drift of her perfume lingered in her wake.

  With her beside him in the car, her fragrance tantalized him, confused him as they started down the driveway. “You left today.” He said it clumsily, wincing at the accusation in his tone.

  She gave him a hard look. “So did you.”

  “I had to pick up some papers at the office. I thought you were spending the day working.”

  “I did.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Are you checking up on me?”

  The driver’s-side window had fogged over, so he lowered it to check traffic to the left before making his turn from the private road onto the main thoroughfare. The brisk air mingled with her scent, but did nothing to clear his befuddled mind.

  Rolling the window up again, he forced a more even tone to his words. “You were concerned you wouldn’t have enough time to finish your project.”

  “You’re a good teacher. I was able to finish the first draft.” Something in the side-view mirror caught her eye and she twisted to look through the Mercedes’ back window. After a moment, she straightened again. “I had time to do some shopping.”

  “Alone?” He felt ridiculous asking the question, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  “With a friend.” He heard her huff of impatience. “A female friend, for heaven’s sake.”

  Now he felt even more like a fool. Pulling onto the freeway, he flexed his hands to relax them. “Did you want me to look over your draft?”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Another glance over her shoulder, then she settled back. “Have you thought about how you’ll introduce me tonight?”

  He’d been so preoccupied with getting her to agree to come with him, it had never crossed his mind. “You’re one of my employees.”

  “You’re dating one of your employees?”

  “No.” He raked his fingers through his hair, struggling to get his brain in gear. “Who would ask that?”

  “They might not say it out loud, but they’ll wonder.”

  “Then we tell them what?” he asked, exasperation tightening the tension in him.

  She thought a moment. “I’m an old friend of Arianna’s. When you had an opening at your table, you gave me a call.”

  It seemed a reasonable explanation. If he didn’t look at Shani all night, managed to keep his hands off her. Even the most clueless attendee at the gala would know there was something more between him and Shani if he didn’t keep his inconvenient libido under control.

  Which he realized would be a near-impossible task once they’d entered the conference center and he helped her off with her cape. His jaw literally dropped at his first glimpse of the back of Shani’s breathtaking dress. Baring the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, the silky raspberry-colored gown couldn’t have draped more perfectly on her beautiful body.

  Fighting against the impulse to stroke the long sweep of golden skin, he stood rooted on the spot, blind to others crowding around him at the coat check. It wasn’t until Shani turned toward him, smiling up at him, presenting him with the more demure front of the dark pink gown, that he was able to kick-start his brain again.

  “Where are we sitting?” she asked, apparently oblivious to his raging hormones.

  “I reserved a table near the front.” He gestured toward the door of the ballroom.

  As she moved toward the entry, she took an awkward step. He took her arm to steady her, one hand on her bare shoulder. The softness of her skin took his breath away.

  “Not used to heels, I’m afraid,” she said as her fingers wrapped around the sleeve of his suit.

  He tucked her arm firmly in the crook of his. “Your body’s changing, too.”

  She flicked him a surprised glance. “Has it?”

  He felt heat rush to his face. He’d noticed every altered curve of her fuller cheeks, the softening of the line of her jaw. All the time he’d spent with her lately, at dinners and during their study sessions, he’d memorized her every feature.

  Not that he’d tell her that. “I know Arianna’s did. She only put on a few pounds at the beginning, but that small difference affected her balance.”

  “I suppose you’re right. The first time…” Her voice faded out for a moment. “I think I had too much else on my mind to notice.”

  As they wound through the tables filling the massive ballroom, more than one curious gaze turned their way. Logan recognized several people and acknowledged their attention with a nod. If they wondered who Shani was, they were too polite to come over and grill him about her. Most of them wealthy and very private people themselves, they would likely allow Logan the courtesy of keeping his secrets to himself.

  There were a few photographers, however, one of them from the charity that had organized the event, but the others were from the press. With any luck, if they photographed Logan and Shani, they’d ask for names only and wouldn’t pry into their relationship.

  Logan found the placards with his and Shani’s name and pulled out her chair. Four of the other six had already seated themselves, clients of Good Sport that he’d invited to join him, plus their spouses.

  He introduced Shani around the table, mentioning her connection to Arianna and her position as an intern at MiniSport. No one so much as blinked an eye as she greeted the others in their group.

  “Jack is running late,” Bill Fredericks, owner of a chain of soccer-equipment stores, told Logan. “He and his wife had some appointment after work.”

  They shouted small talk across the table, the clamor of several hundred people packed into the cavernous space making it difficult to hear. With an effort, Logan kept his eyes forward, across the circle at Bill’s middle-aged wife, while his attention drifted again and again to Shani’s bare shoulder just inches from his.

  He was grateful for the arrival of Jack Helms, Good Sport’s first and now largest customer. In the years since Jack’s chain of specialty water-sports stores bought their initial shipment of graphite kayak paddles from Logan’s company, they’d developed a friendship of sorts. Jack and his wife, Patricia, had occasionally joined Arianna and Logan for dinner or a local theater production.

  Logan got to his feet as Patricia approached, but before he could introduce Shani to Jack’s wife, the woman smiled with apparent delight and leaned over to give Shani a hug before sitting beside her. “I didn’t know you would be here.”

  “It’s good to see you, too,” Shani said. “How’s Junior?”

  “You know each other?” Logan asked as he seated himself again.

  “We met at the clinic,” Shani said.

  “And I dragged her out to lunch one day when I needed some moral support.”

  Now Logan saw Patricia’s rounded belly and realized the woman was several months pregnant. If his mind hadn’t been so hazed by the scent and texture of Shani’s skin, he might have remembered Jack confiding that he and Patricia were having some of the same struggles to start a family that Logan and Arianna had had. Jack had taken his wife�
�s two miscarriages hard.

  Shani leaned close enough to murmur into Logan’s ear. “She only knows I’m acting as a surrogate, not who the father is.”

  But Jack had a speculative look on his face, and Logan realized his friend was putting two and two together. No doubt Patricia had mentioned Shani to Jack and he’d made the connection seeing Shani with Logan.

  Jack wasn’t the type to press Logan for personal information, but the question was clear in Jack’s face. Because of their history, Logan felt an obligation to say something. Shani’s pregnancy would become common knowledge soon enough. Maybe telling Jack would break the ice.

  The start of dinner offered a reprieve. An army of waiters served salads and bread, followed by overseasoned chicken marsala and gummy rice. One speaker after another stepped up to the podium as everyone ate, inspirational speeches from previous recipients of the charity’s largesse interspersed with thanks for the donors’ generosity. An inexplicable anxiety built in Logan as he made his way through the rubber chicken and stale rolls. He wanted nothing more than to center his hand on Shani’s back, to feel her warmth, to take comfort in the contact. He took one bite of the cloyingly sweet chocolate mousse, then pushed it back and dropped his napkin on the table.

  Pushing his chair back, he rose, lightly resting his fingers on Shani’s shoulder. She tore herself from her conversation with Patricia and smiled up at him. It took everything in him not to pull her to her feet and into his arms.

  “I need some air.”

  As he stepped away, he glanced back over his shoulder at Jack. As expected, his friend rose as well. “I’ll join you.”

  They traced a serpentine route through the packed ballroom toward the exits. Once outside, by silent mutual agreement, they moved off past the smokers clustered near the doors. Walking slowly, they made their way down K Street, the pedestrian thoroughfare bisected by light rail tracks.

  Jack spoke first. “I take it the baby is yours and Arianna’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “How far along?”

  They paused under a street lamp and the chill seeped in past Logan’s suit coat. “We’re past the eight-week mark. Only one baby, but everything is going well.”

  Jack nodded and stared off down the dark street. “I confess I’m surprised.”

  Logan’s earlier anxiety kicked up again. “Why?”

  “At the time, you made it pretty clear the baby thing was Arianna’s idea. I would have thought you’d be glad not to have the obligation anymore.”

  Jack’s words echoed what Logan’s father had said. The reminder heightened Logan’s uneasiness. He could ignore his feckless father’s ramblings, but to hear it from a friend gave the words greater weight.

  “I wasn’t aware I gave that impression,” Logan said.

  “One night we talked about the responsibility of having children,” Jack said, his breath fogging in the cold air. “When we were at that convention back east. I was worried about how much traveling I was doing, if I’d be able to be home enough to raise my kids. You just shrugged and said, I’m leaving that to Arianna.”

  Logan cringed. He remembered that night, how exhausted he’d been after the day, glad-handing dozens of would-be customers. He and Jack had been dawdling in the bar and all Logan could think about was crawling into bed. At the time, he couldn’t fathom having the energy to read a bedtime story or tucking in his son or daughter. It had been a relief to recall that that would be Arianna’s job.

  But it was different now, wasn’t it? Because Arianna wasn’t here, because the baby had no one but him. By default, he’d have to be a better father than he would have been when Arianna was alive.

  Doubt dug a hollow in the pit of his stomach. Logan ruthlessly smothered his misgivings.

  “Let’s just say I’ve had a change of heart,” he told Jack.

  He could see the troubled look in Jack’s eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  They headed back inside. The November chill biting Logan’s skin was nothing compared to the chunk of ice that froze his insides. He put on a good face as he rejoined the table, laughing at a slightly off-color joke Bill told, making a show of attentiveness when the woman to his right pulled out photos of her grandkids. He wanted desperately to go home, to be alone with Shani, to absorb her peace.

  An interminable hour later, they headed back to the parking garage and climbed into the Mercedes. Before he started the car, he shut his eyes, leaning back against the headrest, willing the tension to leave him.

  “What is it?” Shani asked, her soft voice the balm he needed.

  His conversation with Jack turned over in his mind, an endless loop replaying. His father’s harsh assessment of Logan’s lack of paternal instinct blared in dissonant counterpoint.

  Opening his eyes, he turned to Shani. The sweet empathy in her face pulled the question from him.

  “What if I don’t love the baby? Can I still be a good father?”

  Shock rippled across her face, a moment only before she suppressed it. He could see her struggle to formulate an answer.

  “Never mind,” he rasped out as he twisted the ignition key.

  “Logan—”

  “Never mind!”

  Backing from the parking space, he navigated the turns of the garage a little too fast, tires screeching. He refused to look at Shani, didn’t want to see the pity, or worse, in her eyes.

  It was just as well, or he might have hit the dark green Nissan that roared around him and cut him off on L Street. As it was, he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting the car before it made a hard right up Tenth Street.

  Shani’s gasp pulled his attention toward her. She’d gone pale with fear.

  “We didn’t hit him.” Logan resisted the urge to reach for her hand.

  She glanced at him, taking a breath as if to speak. Then she looked away with a little shake of her head. “It just startled me.”

  He had the uneasy sense there was more to it than that. Maybe their conversation earlier had stirred misgivings in her about his ability to care for the baby.

  If that was the case, he’d just as soon not know.

  Chapter Nine

  Four days later, Shani was crammed up against the window of the small regional jet carrying her and Logan from their layover in Chicago to Eastern Iowa Airport. Beside her, Logan pored over a stack of department-status reports, his knees skimming the seat in front of him, his shoulders brushing hers. Shani gazed out the window, watching for her first view of Cedar Rapids.

  When Shani had first talked to her mother about the trip home for Thanksgiving, her plans had not included Logan. But then Barbara Jacoby asked what Logan would be doing for the holiday. Shani had already asked Logan the question and had received the unsurprising answer that he planned to work around the house. When Shani relayed that information to her mother, Mrs. Jacoby did an end run around Shani, calling Logan directly to invite him for the weekend.

  According to Logan, Shani’s mother refused to allow him to decline. So here he was beside her, marching into yet another part of Shani’s life.

  She couldn’t muster much annoyance at her mother’s invitation. Her heart had ached at the thought of Logan spending the weekend alone. Thanksgiving had always been a time for all of her family to gather; she couldn’t imagine eating a solitary dinner that day.

  The plane shuddered slightly as it made its descent into Iowa. She spotted the brown swaths of fallow cornfields as they drew closer to the airport, and nostalgia tugged at her. Although there were seasonal changes in the Sacramento area, she missed the ebb and flow of crops and weather from her childhood in Iowa City.

  Logan stuffed away his paperwork, then straightened, leaning toward her slightly as he tightened his seat belt. “I could have bowed out at the last minute. Told your mother something came up.”

  “It’s fine, Logan,” Shani assured him, just as she had yesterday when he’d brought it up then. “My mother will love having someone new to fuss ov
er.”

  “And she understands our arrangement. She doesn’t think you and I…”

  “She knows,” Shani told him emphatically.

  Except Shani wasn’t sure if she knew anymore. Ever since that day she and Julie went shopping, Shani’s emotions had been in an even greater tumult than before. Logan seemed to permeate every corner of her existence, as much a part of her as her own skin, the breath she drew and exhaled.

  It had to be the baby growing inside her. As long as she was pregnant with Logan’s child, she wouldn’t be able to completely separate herself from him.

  They exited the plane, Shani’s carry-on bag slung over Logan’s shoulder. He hadn’t let her tote any of her own luggage, glaring at her when she so much as laid a finger on the larger rolling suitcase before they’d checked it in Sacramento. He probably would have insisted she ride on the luggage cart if he’d thought he could persuade her.

  Logan handled the retrieval of their suitcases and the rental of a Lincoln Town Car with the ease of someone well accustomed to traveling. They were on their way to her family’s ranch-style home in southwest Iowa City in much less time than it would have taken Shani on her own.

  Dusk had fallen by the time they’d pulled into the driveway, the lengthening shadows of late afternoon overcome by approaching darkness. The lights glowing in the windows of the white frame house set off a spurt of joy inside Shani as she imagined her mother and sister waiting for her inside.

  “There’s nothing like coming home,” Shani said softly.

  Her gaze sweeping across the front of the house, she glanced over at Logan. The expression on his face squeezed her heart even tighter. The Logan she knew—arrogant, imperious, take-charge—had for the moment faded away. In place of the man was the boy, the yearning, the longing clear in his face.

  “What was home like for you?” she asked, although she suspected she knew.

  “No home. Not like this, anyway.” He pushed open his door, forestalling any further discussion.