Carson’s words to the contrary, she felt huge. “Thanks,” she quipped. “But right now, I feel as if I look like I’m smuggling a Thanksgiving turkey out of the building.”
His mouth curved ever so slightly. “Looks to me like there’s going to be a lot of people going hungry at that Thanksgiving dinner,” he commented. He looked at her stomach again, trying to remember. “You’re what, seven months along?”
“Eight, but who’s counting?” she murmured.
She was, Lori added silently. Counting down every moment between now and her delivery date, fervently wishing that there was more time. More time in which to get ready for this colossal change that was coming into her life.
No one talking to her would have guessed at her true feelings. She was determined to keep up a brave front. She had to because of the Lamaze classes she taught at Blair Memorial Hospital twice a week. The women who attended them all looked to her as a calming influence, especially the three single moms-to-be with whom she’d bonded. She smiled to herself. If the women she was instructing only knew that her nerves were doing a frenzied dance inside of her every time she thought of the pending arrival, they wouldn’t find her influence so calming.
She missed seeing the three women who had made up the group she’d whimsically dubbed The Mom Squad. But C.J., Joanna and Sherry’s due dates were now in the past. The three all had beautiful, healthy babies now, and, by an odd turn of events, they also now had men at their sides who loved them. Men who wanted to spend the rest of their lives with them.
All she had were Kurt’s pile of debts, which were dwindling thanks to her own tireless efforts, but none too quickly.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Lori upbraided herself. You also have Carson.
She glanced at the man who looked like a sterner, older version of her late husband. She wasn’t about to minimize the effect of having him in her life. Having her brother-in-law’s support went a long way toward helping her get her world in order.
Not that she leaned on him—well, not so that he really noticed. But just knowing he was around if she needed him meant a great deal to her. Carson had offered her a job helping at the center when her company had left her almost as high and dry as Kurt’s death had. And he’d also been instrumental in pulling strings and getting her the job teaching the Lamaze classes at Blair.
That and the freelance work she found as a graphic designer helped her make ends meet. More importantly, it kept her sane. Kept her grief at bay. Kurt had never been a steady, dependable man, but in her own way, she’d loved him a great deal. Forgiven him a great deal, even his inability to grow up and take on responsibilities. Even the dalliances she’d discovered. It had taken her time, though, to forgive him his death.
She was still working on it.
Kurt had had no business racing like that, no business wanting to shake his fist at death just one more time because it made himself feel more powerful. Not when he had her and a baby on the way.
She sighed quietly. That had been Kurt—thoughtless, but engaging. At times, though, it had worn a little thin.
“Eight?” Carson echoed.
She looked at him, her thoughts dissipating. Carson had forgotten, she thought. But then, there were a lot more important things on his mind than her pregnancy. Like constantly searching for funding.
“You’re that far along?”
She tried not to laugh at his incredulous expression. “You make it sound like a terminal disease.”
Broad shoulders rose and fell in a vague fashion. “I guess I just didn’t realize…” An idea came to him suddenly. “I can have you placed on disability—” He didn’t know where he’d find the money, but something could be arranged.
Lori knew what he was trying to do. Contrary to her ex-sister-in-law’s beliefs, Carson’s heart was in the right place, but in her book, what he was proposing was nothing short of charity.
“I’m not disabled,” she countered.
He heard the stubborn tone in her voice. Admirable though her independence was, there were times when his sister-in-law could be a mule. Like now. “Yeah, I know, but technically maternity leave doesn’t start until after you give birth.”
It was her turn to shrug. “So, I’ll stick around until I give birth.”
“You should be home, Lori, taking care of yourself.”
Carson didn’t see what the problem was, or why she had him fighting a war on two fronts, one to get her a paid leave and one to get her to actually leave. When Jaclyn had been pregnant, she’d insisted on having a woman come in and do all the chores that she didn’t normally do anyway. After Sandy was born, Hannah had stayed on to care for the house and the baby.
Jaclyn had always maintained that she was too delicate to put up with the drudgery of routine. He’d indulged her because he’d loved her and because she was his wife, his responsibility.
And because he’d been crazy about their child.
In hindsight, Hannah had taken care of Sandy better than Jaclyn ever could. Carson didn’t mind paying for that. There was nothing too good for Sandy.
“I am taking care of myself,” Lori insisted. She was accustomed to looking after herself. She’d been on her own since she was twenty. Even after she’d met Kurt, she’d been the one to take care of him, not the other way around. “If I stayed at home with my feet up, I’d go crazy inside of a week. Three days, probably.” She smiled at Carson, appreciating his concern but determined not to let him boss her around. “Haven’t you heard, Counselor? Work is therapeutic. Speaking of which, I’d better be getting back. There’s a basketball game I’m supposed to be refereeing.”
Bracing herself, she placed a hand on either wooden armrest and pushed herself up. The movement was a little too sudden, a little too fast. Lori’s head started to spin.
The walls darkened. The small room began to close in on her.
A tiny pinprick of panic scratched her skin.
Lori struggled against the encroaching darkness, struggled to push the walls back out again. The effort was futile. The walls turned all black as they raced toward her with a frightening speed.
Perspiration beaded along her forehead.
And then there was nothing.
The next thing Lori knew, she felt herself being jerked up. Someone’s arms were closing around her. There was heat everywhere, swirling about her.
She realized her eyes were shut.
With a mighty effort, she pushed them open again and found herself looking up into Carson’s dark blue, solemn eyes. They were darker than Kurt’s eyes had been. And far more serious.
Lori tried to smile. Even that took effort. He was holding her. Holding her very close. Was that why it felt so hot all of a sudden?
Because he looked so concerned, she forced herself to sound light. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if you scowl so hard, your face’ll freeze that way?”
“My mother told me very little,” he told her, his voice monotone.
She’d given him one hell of a scare, fainting like that. He had no idea what to think, what to do, other than to feel utterly helpless. Somebody needed to hand out instruction booklets when it came to women. Maybe even an entire desk encyclopedia.
Carson carried her over to the sagging, rust-colored leather sofa and placed her down as gently as he could manage.
His brow furrowed as he looked at her. “You want me to call a doctor?”
She caught hold of Carson’s hand in case he had any ideas about acting on his question. “No, I want you to stop looking as if I’m about to explode any second.”
His eyes were drawn to the small bump in her abdomen that represented his future niece or nephew. It was easy to forget Lori was pregnant at times. She looked so small. How could there be another human being inside of her?
Still, eight months was eight months. “Well, aren’t you?”
She placed her other hand protectively over her abdomen. She could feel her baby moving. It always created a feeling of awe with
in her. Three months of kicking and shifting and she still hadn’t gotten used to the sensation.
“No,” she assured him, using the same tranquil, patient voice she used in the Lamaze classes, “not at the moment. Pregnant women faint, Carson.” She used his hand to draw herself up into a sitting position. And then slowly to her feet. He hovered protectively around her. “It’s one of the few pleasures left to them.” Her smile was meant to put him at ease. “Don’t worry about it.”
His arm was around her, just in case her knees failed again. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?”
She flashed a grin at him. “Maybe that’s what keeps me going.”
He knew her well enough to know there was no winning. “At least let me drive you home.”
Lori shook her head. “I brought my car.”
“So?” Carson didn’t see the problem. “I’ll drive that.”
She cocked her head, looking at him. The man was a dear. “Then how will you get back?”
He bit back an oath. “Do you have to overthink everything?”
“Can’t help it.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled more broadly at him. “Must be the company I keep.” She took a deep cleansing breath, then released it slowly, just as she’d demonstrated countless times in class. “There, all better. Really.” But as she tried to walk away, she found that he was still holding her. Still unwilling to allow her to leave on her own power.
She was standing less than an inch away from him. Feeling things she didn’t think that women in her condition were capable of feeling. At least not about men who weren’t responsible for getting them into this condition in the first place.
Chapter Two
Lori looked down at her brother-in-law’s hands. Strong, capable, and right now they were on either side of her arms, anchoring her in place. She raised her eyes to meet his.
“Um, Carson.”
“What?” Impatience laced with annoyance framed the single word.
She gave a slight tug. “I can’t go anywhere if you’re still holding on to me.”
By all rights, he knew he should drop his hands to his sides. She was a grown woman, more than capable of making her own decisions. He’d always believed in live and let live. At least on paper. But there were times when he felt she was being unnecessarily stubborn on principle.
“Maybe that’s the idea,” he told her.
“Eventually, one of us is going to have to go to the bathroom,” she deadpanned. She glanced at her belly before looking up at him again. “Because of my condition, my guess is that it’ll probably be me.” A glimmer of a smile began to play on her lips. “I’d rather not have to ask for permission.”
Carson felt a trace of embarrassment and wasn’t sure if it was for her or himself. In either case, Carson dropped his hands in exasperation. But not before issuing a warning.
“First sign of you fading, I’m taking you home, no matter what you say.” His eyes did almost as good a job as his hands at pinning her to the spot. “I’ll be watching you.”
“I never doubted it for a moment.” The smile on her lips widened, reaching up to her eyes. He tried not to notice and failed miserably. There was something about Lori’s eyes that always got to him. They had been the first thing he’d noticed about her when they’d met. The killer figure had been the second.
“What?” he finally bit off.
Surly on the outside, mushy on the inside, she thought fondly. “I just never envisioned my guardian angel would look like a football player, that’s all.”
Carson laughed shortly, his expression never changing. He’d been accused of being a lot of things in his time, but never an angel. Not even by his mother. Certainly not by his ex-wife.
“Got a hell of a long way to go before I’m anyone’s guardian angel.”
There was something in his eyes for a fleeting moment. Sadness? It was gone the next, but it succeeded in moving her. Carson didn’t like being touched. Because she was a toucher and firmly believed in the benefits of human contact, she patted his cheek anyway. The man had been there for her, awkward, but ready to help right from the start. She wasn’t about to forget that.
“Not nearly as far as you think, Carson.” She turned on her heel with more ease than he thought possible for a woman in her condition. “Gotta get back to work.”
But just as she stepped out the door, a dark-haired young woman swung open the door to the rear entrance and came rushing down the hall. In her haste, she narrowly avoided a collision with Lori.
Eyes the color of milk chocolate widened as the woman came to an abrupt halt less than an inch shy of impact. She sucked in her breath.
“Wow, sorry about that.” She patted Lori’s stomach. “Could have had an early delivery, huh?”
Carson’s arm had closed protectively around Lori, pulling her back just in time. He glared at the other woman. Good help was hard to find. It was even harder to get it to come in on time. “There wouldn’t have been any danger of that if you’d come in at ten the way you were supposed to, Rhonda.”
The woman, barely three years out of her own teens and in Carson’s opinion not yet fully entrenched in the adult world, gave him a high-wattage, apologetic grin. “Sorry, boss. Chuck decided to have a temper tantrum this morning.”
Carson’s frown deepened. His aide’s current flame reminded him a lot of Kurt. “Either tell your boyfriend to grow up, or get another boyfriend.”
His words rolled off her back like an inconsequential Southern California summer rain.
“Sorry,” she repeated. “You don’t pay me enough for that.”
From what he knew, Rhonda was allowing her boyfriend to crash on her sofa. Chuck was currently “in between jobs,” a place the man had been residing in from the time Carson had hired Rhonda. “Won’t have to if the next boyfriend could hang onto a job.”
The familiar words made him stop abruptly. He slanted a look at Lori, wondering if his exchange with Rhonda had scraped over any old wounds. He’d lectured Kurt about hanging on to a job more times than he could remember, especially after he’d married Lori. Kurt’s response had always been to laugh off his words, as if he thought his older brother was joking. Kurt had maintained that he was still looking for his niche. As far as Carson knew, Kurt never found it.
“So he could be an old grump like you, boss man? Don’t think so.” Rhonda winked broadly at Carson, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her worn jeans. “I’d love to stand around and talk like this, but some of us have work to do.” She waved to one of the young teens and hurried across the gym.
Carson turned his attention back to Lori. “There goes your excuse.”
Lori looked at him. “You’ve lost me.”
Interesting choice of words, he thought. And very appropriate.
“Just what I’m trying to do. At least for the rest of the afternoon. Rhonda can handle the kids.” He nodded in the direction of the front entrance. “Go home and take a nap before class tonight.”
It surprised her that he remembered her schedule, but then, she supposed it shouldn’t. Carson liked to keep tabs on everything. It felt confining to her at times, but he never realized it. She knew he meant no harm.
She pressed her lips together, debating. It wouldn’t hurt to grab a few minutes of her own, she thought. She’d been up half the night working on a new Web design project that had come in. When opportunity knocked, she couldn’t afford not to be home. “You’re not going to be satisfied until I go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, you win.” She sighed, surrendering. “Always like to keep the boss happy.”
Carson crossed his arms before his rock-solid chest. “Right, and I’m the bluebird of happiness.”
Her eyes swept over him. He was still every inch the football player who’d made the winning touch-down in the last game he ever played. “I wouldn’t perch on any branches if I were you.”
He grumbled something not entirely under his breath. Laughing, Lori walked aw
ay, heading for the lockers on the other end of the first floor. She was very conscious of his watching her and tried very hard not to move from side to side the way she felt inclined to these days. Or to place a hand to the small of her back in order to ease the ache there. Pregnant women did that and Carson seemed to equate pregnancy with weakness. The more she fit his stereotype, the more determined he would be to try to convince her to stay home.
She wasn’t the stay-at-home type.
Lori made her way to the shadowy row of lockers where the kids stashed their backpacks, books and various paraphernalia while they used the facilities. Once out of eye range, she pressed her hand to the small of her back and massaged for a moment. For a peanut, this baby was giving her some backache.
After stretching, she went to her locker. Wanting to seem more like one of the teens, Lori had taken a locker to store her own belongings there. Usually, she only had her purse.
She paused in front of the upper locker, trying to remember her combination. It was nestled in overcrowded memory banks that retained every number that had any bearing on her life. She seemed to retain all manner of numbers, not just her own social security number, but her late husband’s as well. It was in there with her license plate and the phone numbers and birthdays of several dozen people who currently figured prominently in her life.
She smiled as the combination came to her. Turning the dial on the old lock three revolutions to the left, a muffled sound caught her attention. Lori stopped and listened.
The sound came again.
It was a sob, she was sure of it. The kind that was muted by hands being pressed helplessly over a mouth too distressed to seal away the noise.
Concerned, curious, Lori set the lock back against the metal door and moved around to the other side of the bank of battered lockers.
Huddled in the corner, her long tanned legs pulled in tightly against her chest, was one of the girls she’d missed seeing today. The young girl sounded as if her heart was breaking. Boy trouble?
“Angela?”
The girl only pulled herself in tighter. Someone else might have felt as if they were intruding and left. Lori’s mind had never worked that way. Anyone in pain needed to be soothed.
Beauty and the Baby Page 2
