Snow Baby

by Brenda Novak

  Jogging down the hall and into Chantel’s bedroom, he rummaged through her nightstand for the magazine she’d written on when Dr. Campbell called, but he couldn’t find anything. She must have taken it with her. Picking up the phone, he punched in 411 and asked for Dr. Bradley’s number.

  “A Woman’s Place,” the receptionist answered when he’d dialed it.

  “This is Wade Bennett. Do you have a patient there by the name of Chantel Miller? I think she had an appointment this morning.”

  “I’m sorry. We’re not allowed to divulge that information, Mr. Bennett.”

  “But I’m her boyfriend. She hasn’t been feeling very well and—”

  “I’m sorry. We respect our patients’ right to privacy.”

  Damn! Wade cursed and hung up. He’d have to drive over there.

  DILLON BEGAN TO TAP his foot, growing anxious. How long could it take to draw some blood? He’d cleared his morning of any appointments, but he had a lot of drawings to do and several sets of plans that needed to go out by overnight courier. Now that he had the girls living with him, he no longer had the time he used to, and his work was quickly falling behind. Not that he’d change anything. He just needed to make more efficient use of the hours they were in school and day care.

  Standing, he crossed to the receptionist’s desk. “Do you know how much longer it’ll be?”

  A petite woman with dark hair pulled severely off her face glanced up from a stack of folders. “You’re with Chantel Miller, right?”

  He nodded.

  “I’ll check.” She disappeared for several seconds, then returned wearing a much warmer smile. “Your wife is doing fine, Mr. Miller. They’re just about finished with the ultrasound now.”

  Dillon was too stunned to correct her on the husband-wife issue. “The what?”

  “The ultrasound. The baby looks fine, by the way. Its heartbeat is coming through loud and strong.”

  Dillon blinked. Then he cleared his throat. “Are you sure we’re talking about the right woman? Chantel just went back to have some blood drawn.”

  “Oh, no, we take the blood right here.” She waved to four chairs arranged in an open area to her left. “And your wife is the only ultrasound we have scheduled this morn—” Evidently the look on his face alerted her to his total surprise, because her words suddenly dropped off and a red flush crept up her cheeks. “You brought her here. This isn’t some kind of secret, right?”

  Evidently it was. And the thought of how he’d sat stupidly in the waiting room, completely unsuspecting, rankled. What was Chantel trying to prove?

  “Aren’t you the father?” she finished weakly.

  Dillon didn’t know. Chantel had told him she couldn’t have children. They’d been together only one night. Of course he’d made love to her several times while they were in his truck—he hadn’t been able to get enough of her, still longed for more—but Wade had been hanging around a lot since then. What if…

  He refused to even think it. Chantel couldn’t be pregnant with Wade’s baby. She had the flu. That was what she’d told him.

  But denial did little to stop the anger that began to course hotly through his blood. Without another word, he stalked out of the lobby and back to Dr. Bradley’s office, where he approached the front desk. “Chantel Miller is still across at the lab, but she wanted to ask the doctor what her due date is.” He pasted a pleasant smile on his face to hide the clenching of his jaw. “I guess she forgot it already.”

  The nurse’s brows drew together. “But that’s exactly why we sent her to get the ultrasound. We can’t give her a due date until we see how far along she is.”

  “Can’t you hazard a guess?”

  “Just a minute.” The nurse disappeared and returned with a manila folder. “Can I get your name, please?’

  “Dillon Broderick.”

  She glanced at some notes inside, then said, “With her history, it’s hard to say, Mr. Broderick. But according to the approximate size of her uterus, the doctor is guessing she’s somewhere between seven and nine weeks. We’ll know more when we get the results of the ultrasound.”

  Seven to nine weeks. Tahoe fell right in the middle of that range. But Wade’s appearance did, too. “Right. I’ll tell her,” he said, but as he turned to leave, the door opened and Chantel stood there.

  “Ready?” she asked, her eyes unreadable.

  Dillon nodded curtly and strode past her without waiting. When they reached his truck, he left the passenger door standing open for her and came around to his own side. He stuck the key in the ignition as he slid behind the wheel but didn’t start the car.

  She didn’t get in as he’d expected. “Would you like me to find another ride home?” she asked, hovering at the door.

  He propped his hands on the steering wheel. “You weren’t going to tell me?”

  “I wasn’t even sure, until today.”

  Please tell me the baby’s not Wade’s. He knew he couldn’t ask, simply because the answer meant too much to him. He wasn’t ready for the truth. Not yet…“When did you first suspect?”

  “I never suspected. I thought I had the flu.”

  “And?”

  She clutched her purse tightly, like a shield against his hostility. “When I didn’t get well the way I should have, Wade insisted I see a doctor.”

  Wade again. Dammit! Dillon wanted to pound the man. He’d mistreated Chantel and left her alone for months in a hospital while she was suffering with anorexia. He didn’t deserve her.

  “Dr. Campbell called yesterday to let me know the blood tests were back,” she went on, “and that there wasn’t anything wrong with me—at least nothing that nine months wouldn’t cure.” She gave him a hesitant smile.

  He sighed. “I thought you couldn’t have children.”

  “That’s what they told me at the hospital before I was released.”

  “But it happened, anyway.”

  She nodded.

  “Get in.”

  “I don’t want to get in if…if you’re angry about this.”

  He stared at her. “How am I supposed to feel? How do you feel?”

  “I’ve always wanted a baby. I’m scared, but I’m excited, too.” She glanced down at her toes. “And I was hoping you’d be happy about it.”

  Then tell me the baby’s mine! The emotional impact of that thought nearly stole Dillon’s breath away. What if the baby was his? He had two little girls already. He’d promised himself he’d be true to them, never give them any competition for his time and attention, at least until they were considerably older. But a new baby was definitely competition. Chantel was competition. Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about her and felt as though his heart was being torn from his chest at the prospect of losing her to Wade.

  “I’m not angry,” he said softly, struggling to control his emotions. “Get in.”

  She complied, but she was blinking rapidly, and obviously fighting tears.

  “If you’re so happy about this, why are you about to cry?” he asked, feeling some of his anger subside.

  “Because what I just saw was so incredible, so perfect. I wanted you to be there with me, but I didn’t want you to know yet, not until I decide how to tell Wade and Stacy.”

  Dillon took a deep breath to prepare himself. “Tell Wade what?”

  She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “About the baby.”

  “His baby?” he asked, the words finally tumbling out, almost of their own accord.

  As Chantel continued to stare at him, he felt more vulnerable than he ever had in his life. Amanda would have exploited it, kept him guessing. But Chantel took his hand and kissed the very center of his palm, then nuzzled it with her cheek. “You may not believe this, but I’ve only slept with two men my whole life. And Wade and I haven’t been together for over a year. This baby is yours,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  WADE SAT in the parking lot of the medical complex, wondering which buildi
ng housed Dr. Bradley’s office. The receptionist had given him an address when he’d called back, but he hadn’t thought to ask her for specific directions once he found the property. He hadn’t expected the complex to be so large and sprawling.

  He nicked the paint of the neighboring car getting out of his father’s boatlike Cadillac. But it wasn’t his fault most of the lot had been built for compact cars. What was he supposed to do? Park on the road just because his dad owned a gas-guzzling hog?

  Striding to the marquis placed in the middle of a patch of green grass surrounded by marigolds, petunias and some little pink flowers he didn’t know the name of, he glanced up at the five high-rise medical buildings towering over him, then began to search the directory for Dr. Bradley’s office.

  Second building. Third floor. He turned and squinted against the sun, gazing out over the sea of cars in the lot, looking for Chantel’s Jag. But he couldn’t see it. Turning again, he made his way down the winding sidewalk to a metal-and-glass structure labeled Building 2.

  “Excuse me.” A young woman dodged around him as he entered, making him miss the elevator. Cursing her, as well as the parking lot, he pushed the button and waited, glancing through the lobby windows. Suddenly he saw a woman who resembled Chantel sitting in a white Landcruiser parked close to the building.

  He did a double take and realized it had to be her. How many other women sat so tall? But who was she with? He took a few steps in her direction, then his stomach sank and his blood pressure rose. Dillon! She was with Dillon. Was that where she’d spent the night, too?

  He slipped through the silent swinging doors and stood in the dark shade of the building, watching them, but he could have been doing cartwheels across the lawn for all they noticed. They were deep in conversation. Dillon was touching Chantel’s face. And she was closing her eyes as though he was reaching her very soul.

  CHANTEL’S HEART pounded as Dillon ran his fingers down the side of her face. “We’re going to have a baby?” he asked reverently.

  She nodded. “If I can carry it long enough.”

  His hand continued its downward course, trailing over one breast before he flattened his palm against her stomach, looking dazed.

  “You should’ve seen the ultrasound, Dillon,” she told him. “I saw his tiny foot and his hand, and his little heart beating so fast—”

  “His?’

  Chantel noted the wonder on his face and smiled. “I don’t know the sex yet.”

  “But I could be having a son.”

  “Or you could be having another daughter.”

  He grinned. “Maybe she’ll look just like you.”

  Chantel chuckled. “Only please let her be short.”

  “What do you mean?” he demanded with a scowl. “I love tall women.”

  Does that mean you love me? Chantel squelched the hope that someday he might. She didn’t deserve Dillon. She’d come back to California to pay penance for what she’d done to Stacy, not to fall madly in love. And she feared that was exactly what would happen if she let Dillon any closer. “It’s not fun to be called names and to be stared at all the time,” she reminded him.

  “We’ll teach her to be proud.”

  We’ll teach her… Chantel felt her heart melt, partly because of his words and partly because of the magic of his touch. Hooking one hand behind her neck, he leaned forward and gently brought his lips to hers, as if savoring the taste and feel of her. Her eyes closed as he deepened the kiss, and she remembered the magical way it had been that night when they’d made their baby. “This Landcruiser must work as some kind of aphrodisiac or something,” she joked.

  He chuckled and she inhaled the spearmint on his breath. “Best make-out car I ever bought. But this time, I’d rather go home to celebrate. How are you feeling, babe?”

  “Better.”

  “Can I interest you in testing out my new bed?”

  “We slept in it last night, remember?”

  “Oh, I already know it’s comfortable enough. I just want to be sure it doesn’t creak too loudly.” He kissed her again, his lips moving purposefully over hers, rousing more memories of what it felt like to be loved by Dillon, along with a dose of fresh undiluted desire. She thought of the skylights in his room and imagined lying on her back, his muscular form poised above her, the sun shining all around, and wanted to agree.

  But losing herself in Dillon’s arms still felt too much like betrayal. She had to talk to Stacy first, tell her the truth. Although Chantel doubted that honesty would eradicate her guilt, at least she wouldn’t be doing anything in secret.

  “Stacy and Wade are probably waiting for me, wondering what the doctor said.”

  He sat back and looked at her. “And I think it’s time to tell them.”

  Chantel wasn’t so sure. What if she miscarried? She would have hurt her sister for nothing.

  For nothing, or for a chance at happiness with Dillon?

  Would she never conquer the selfishness that kept her seeking what she wanted over her sister’s best interests? As soon as Stacy learned Chantel was carrying Dillon’s child, she’d feel like sloppy leftovers. Her self-esteem would plummet.

  And Chantel couldn’t be the cause of that again. Not after all her good intentions. Not after all the promises to herself that if Stacy would only give her another chance, she’d move heaven and earth to prove herself worthy.

  “You look miserable,” Dillon said, slinging one arm over the steering wheel.

  “I’m just trying to decide what to do. How can I tell Stacy I’m pregnant with your child?”

  He rested his head on one fist. “It won’t be easy. But what’s the alternative? In seven months, the baby will be here. That’s not something we can hide.”

  “Unless I tell her the baby belongs to someone else.”

  Dillon stiffened and the blue of his eyes darkened. “Hell, no! The baby’s mine, and I don’t want anyone thinking it isn’t. Especially Wade.”

  Chantel had known, even as she said it, that claiming the baby belonged to someone else wasn’t really a possibility. She couldn’t do that to Dillon or their child. She was just searching for a way, any way, to salvage her sister’s feelings. And to save herself from having to break the news.

  “I’ll need a few days.”

  His scowl grew fiercer. “I don’t want to push you into saying something until you’re ready. But you do realize it’s not going to get any easier, don’t you?”

  A lump swelled in Chantel’s throat, and as hard as she tried to swallow it, it wouldn’t go away. “I just need a little more time with her before…before she’s gone.”

  The look on Dillon’s face softened, and he reached across the seat to squeeze her hand. “Maybe she’ll surprise us both. Unlike Wade, I never promised her anything. We weren’t engaged. We only dated a few times and kissed once.”

  “You kissed her?” Chantel groaned. Considering how much she hated the thought of that, she could guess how terrible Stacy was going to feel when she learned about their night in Tahoe.

  “I kissed her goodnight. I didn’t see fireworks. That was it.”

  “Evidently she saw fireworks. She told me she was in love with you, Dillon, and you guys have been friends long enough for her to know.”

  “It was a crush, nothing more.”

  “You’d like to believe that because then it’s easier to think Stacy won’t be seriously hurt by all this. I wish I had that luxury.”

  His brows drew together. “I’m not sure. Maybe you’re right, but I was being honest with you when I said Stacy and I were never that close.”

  “It’s possible to love someone who doesn’t return your feelings.”

  “I know,” he said, and Chantel wondered if he was thinking of his ex-wife. How could Amanda have loved Dillon and still have done the things she did?

  Chantel hesitated, then voiced the concern that kept flitting across her mind. “What if we don’t become that close, Dillon? We haven’t spent a great deal of time t
ogether. Heck, you know Stacy better than you know me.”

  “Not in the biblical sense.” He grinned, probably trying to ease the tension, but she was too wound up to let his humor relax her.

  “There’s more to a relationship than sex,” she said.

  “Do you think you’re talking to a man whose sole purpose is to get a good lay? I have two kids already, remember? I think I know what it takes to make a relationship work, or at least I know what can screw it up beyond repair.”

  Chantel sighed, realizing she and Dillon were arguing because she was trying to wheedle something out of him he wasn’t willing to give, some sort of commitment that would make the coming confrontation with Stacy a little easier. But it was too early in their relationship for that. And it was a cowardly thing to do, anyway—to let go of one hand only after she was hanging on securely to another.

  She had to let go of everyone—Stacy, Dillon and Wade—and stand on her own two feet and be strong for her baby. Her meeting Dillon was an accident, a twist of fate, nothing more. If Stacy wouldn’t forgive her, Chantel would have to deal with that. And if Dillon didn’t end up loving her, she’d have to forge ahead on her own. That was the only way to garner any self-respect. “Let’s go,” she said calmly.

  He turned the key in the ignition, but before putting the truck into drive, he glanced over at her. “What have you decided?”

  “That I’ve got to do this my way. And that I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

  Wariness clouded his eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like you’re shutting me out.”

  Chantel chuckled humorlessly. “No, I’m doing the only fair thing. I’m giving us room to get to know each other, room to decide where we want to go from here and room to breathe.”

  DILLON WASN’T SURE he wanted room to breathe.

  Then again, he wasn’t sure he didn’t.

  Since that night in Tahoe, he’d thought a lot about Chantel, had wanted to spend time with her. Her quiet strength, so at odds with her vulnerability, had struck a chord in him. But he hadn’t thought beyond that to anything more serious. Commitment, children, marriage—those things typically took care of themselves as a relationship developed. He didn’t think about them much in advance.