by Brenda Novak
But he and Chantel were having a baby together, and Dillon wasn’t exactly sure what he should or shouldn’t do about it.
Pulling out of the medical building’s parking lot, he turned left and stopped at the first traffic light. He knew he didn’t want anyone to think the baby belonged to someone else. He took care of his own. He also knew he desired Chantel, felt protective of her. To a certain extent, that meant he already claimed her, too.
What about Brittney and Sydney? He’d sworn he’d never force them into a stepparent situation, at least not while they were so young. He hated the thought of another adult coming into their lives and their home with the power to make or break their happiness. Chantel hardly fit the image of a wicked stepmother, but he’d never—until now—even considered making an exception.
Signaling, he turned left at the next light and moved into the far right lane before merging onto the interstate. He thought briefly of the work that awaited him at the office, but it no loner seemed so urgent. Because he had bigger things to worry about. He was going to be the father of a new baby.
How had this happened? And how could he ever sort out his feelings about it?
Dillon gunned the accelerator and shot over into the fast lane. It suddenly felt as if he was leading two very different lives—the responsible loving father of two young girls, and the lonely divorced man who’d just gotten a beautiful ex-model pregnant. How the hell did he integrate the two?
Chantel stared out the window, less emotional now, almost serene. Instead of calming Dillon, however, her attitude only increased his own anxiety. Most women in her situation would be demanding to know how he felt about them and whether he was going to support the baby. She acted as though she didn’t expect anything from him. As though she’d raise the child on her own as easily as accept his help.
If he’d been a different kind of man, that would have given him freedom, he supposed. But he couldn’t walk away, didn’t want to, even if she’d let him. He just felt a certain panic at knowing they’d come face-to-face with the life-changing consequences of one reckless night.
He shot her a glance and bristled at her composure. Didn’t she care whether or not he was part of her life? Whether or not he took an interest in their baby? She’d seemed to at first. But that was before they’d addressed the issue of Stacy.
“Thanks for the ride,” Chantel said as soon as they pulled up to his house.
Knowing he couldn’t talk her into coming inside with him, Dillon caught her arm as she started to get out of the truck. “Call me if you need me.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
He watched her climb into her own car, which was still sitting in his drive, then let his head rest on the steering wheel.
Ready or not, they were going to have a baby.
CHANTEL BRACED HERSELF before opening the door to her condominium. She hadn’t seen either Stacy’s car or Wade’s in the parking lot, but she had no idea what might be waiting for her inside. It seemed like an eternity since she’d been home, and if, by chance, Wade was there—if his parents had taken back their car or something—she knew he’d barrage her with a million questions she’d find difficult to answer. What could she tell him? Now that the baby was real, now that she’d seen its little heart beating and believed, she had to reveal the truth.
But dread weighted her movements. Slowly she let herself into the house, then blinked in surprise when she found everything just as she’d left it the night before. At least, she thought it was the same. She hadn’t really paid much attention.
“Stacy? Wade? Is anyone home?”
No answer. Chantel did a quick turn through the rooms, confirming that she was indeed alone, then sank gratefully into one of the wing chairs in her living room. She was physically exhausted, emotionally drained.
Drawing a lap blanket up over her legs, she decided that whoever controlled fate sure had a morbid sense of humor. She’d been struggling with her promise to stay away from Dillon Broderick; adding his baby into the mix made that virtually impossible. Her feelings were confused and contradictory. Joy at the thought of having a child, the secret thrill of knowing she now had an unimpeachable excuse to keep in contact with Dillon—and pain and regret that her happiness about these things came at her sister’s expense.
Right now the pain won out. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she stared at the blank television set. Outside, the clouds passed over the sun, darkening the room and making it feel more like evening than noon. She should call Maureen at work and give her an update. She should force herself to eat something for lunch. The baby was going to need much more than the samples of prenatal vitamins the doctor had given her. But she couldn’t move. She simply sat there and worried about what she’d say to Stacy, without coming any closer to a decision.
The telephone rang just as Chantel started to drift into an uneasy sleep. Jerking back to full awareness, she stood and rounded the coffee table, hurrying toward the phone.
“Hello?”
“Chantel?”
It was Stacy. Talons of anxiety clawed at Chantel’s stomach, and she was glad she hadn’t eaten, after all. “Hi, Stace. Where are you?”
“I’m at home, getting ready for work. Wade left several messages on my recorder saying he couldn’t find you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ve had a good morning.” Which meant she hadn’t thrown up, despite the nausea. “Why didn’t you come back here last night?”
“A friend of mine from work wanted me to do something with her.”
“Good, I’m glad you got out. Was it fun?”
“It was okay. How’d it go at the doctor’s? You made it there safely, didn’t you?”
Chantel tried to take a deep breath, but her chest was too tight to let in much air. “Yeah. It went fine.”
“What did they say?”
That I’m due in about seven months. “They said everything’s going to be okay. I should be feeling better in a few weeks.”
“Weeks! Gee, Chantel. You caught one ugly flu.”
Tell her, Chantel’s mind urged. But she couldn’t, not yet. She needed a little more time before their relationship reverted to the hostility of just a few weeks ago. Besides, she wanted to sit down alone with her sister and explain what had happened in person; anything else was cowardly.
Stacy filled in the silence when Chantel didn’t respond. “What about work?”
“I’m going to do as much as I can from home, then go back in when I feel better. I talked to Maureen yesterday, and she insists they can wait.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“I’m sure she’s had to battle several of the field reps on that. They want their stuff and they want it right away, which means she’s having to pull more than her own weight. I really owe her.”
“Well, she seems really nice.”
Chantel chewed on her lower lip. “What time do you get off work, Stace?”
“Eight.”
“Do you think you could come by? I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. What about?”
“I’ll tell you when you get here,” she said, her hand gripping the receiver so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Okay. No problem.”
Stacy hung up, and Chantel let the breath she’d been holding seep out. But none of her fear went with it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DILLON WATCHED his two girls hurry across the schoolyard toward the Landcruiser and waved at them. He hadn’t stopped thinking, even for a minute, about Chantel and their baby. Sydney and Brittney had no idea he’d been seeing the woman who’d baby-sat them that one night. And after all the recent changes and upsets in their lives, he hated the idea of surprising them.
Taking a deep breath, he smiled as they climbed in. “Hey, kiddos. How’re my girls?”
“What are you doing here, Daddy?” Sydney asked.
“How come we don’t have to go to Children’s World?” Brittney chimed in.
A gust of coo
l wind ruffled his hair before the doors thudded shut.
“I got off a little early today.” He didn’t add that the couple of hours he’d spent at work had been wasted. Unable to focus on anything except the startling news he’d received that morning, he’d scrapped several sets of plans and started over, again and again.
“I got a hundred on my spelling test today,” Brittney announced.
Yesterday afternoon Dillon had invested a good hour in drilling her on the words. “Way to go! I think that calls for ice cream. What do you think, Sydney?”
Both girls excitedly agreed. “Then can Suzie come over?” Brittney asked.
Dillon had started making some inroads with the other parents—mostly mothers—getting to know them so they’d feel comfortable letting their daughters come to play at his house, but he hadn’t heard of Suzie before. “Have you made a new friend?”
“She just moved here.”
“Well, maybe tomorrow. Today I thought we’d do something else. Remember Chantel? She had you over at her house a while ago.”
“Yeah, she was really nice,” Brittney said.
Dillon glanced into the backseat to gauge Sydney’s reaction.
“And pretty,” his younger daughter added, struggling to close her seat belt.
“Maybe we could go visit her if she’s home. That okay with you?”
They nodded, and Dillon dialed Chantel’s number on his car phone, then pulled away from the curb. He didn’t dare drop by in case Stacy was there, but he couldn’t help wanting to see Chantel and his girls together, to get a sense of how they’d do if they ever became a family.
Was Chantel really carrying his child? He still couldn’t believe it.
“Hello?” She sounded as if she’d been sleeping.
“It’s Dillon. Did I wake you?”
“I was just resting, but I have to get up, anyway. I have some stuff to do for Maureen. She’s coming by later to pick it up.”
Dillon slowed for a speed bump as he drove out of the neat middle-class neighborhood where the school was located. “Have you talked to Stacy?”
“She’s coming over tonight after work.”
“When’s that?”
“She gets off at eight.”
“So she’s at the hospital now?”
“Yeah.”
“Does that mean the girls and I can stop by for a few minutes?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen Wade all day. I don’t know where he is and—”
“You’re not going to tell me no because of Wade?”
Silence, then, “That’s not the only reason, Dillon. I realize this is more my fault than yours. When we were together that night, I told you I couldn’t get pregnant—”
“You didn’t know.”
“True, but you don’t deserve to have any more responsibilities right now. You’ve got your children to take care of, and I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”
She was showing him the door again, letting him know it stood wide open. Dammit! Why was she trying to make it so easy for him to walk away? Didn’t she care about him?
Dillon looked over at Brittney. She was digging through her backpack, pulling out completed assignments, apparently looking for her spelling test. “I want to be part of this,” he said, and it surprised him how much he meant it. Even with all the risks and pitfalls, he couldn’t leave Chantel to go through the pregnancy alone. “I can’t…” He let the last of the sentence dangle so Brittney and Sydney wouldn’t clue in.
“You can’t turn your back on your own child, and that’s admirable. I just want you to know we don’t come as a package deal. I’ll be supportive of your relationship and won’t ever try to stop you from seeing the baby or being part of his life. You believe me, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Until you want to move somewhere or marry someone else or… “But what’s best for you?”
“What’s best for me doesn’t matter.”
“I don’t think my taking a hike is best for any of us, though.”
“She wants you to go hiking, Daddy?” Brittney asked.
Dillon shook his head at his daughter and gripped the phone more tightly, waiting for Chantel’s response.
“You’re not listening. I didn’t suggest you take a hike. I want you to be part of the baby’s life. What more do you want?”
Marry me. Where had that come from? He’d only known her two months. He couldn’t marry her, couldn’t put his girls at risk. “I don’t know yet. Can’t we figure it out as we go along?”
“Okay.”
“So can we come by?”
There was a short pause. “Sure.”
THE DOORBELL RANG just as Chantel finished applying a little makeup. She was feeling surprisingly well, considering how sick she’d been the past couple of weeks. Maybe she was living on adrenaline. Or maybe, as the doctor had said, there was simply no rhyme or reason to morning sickness. Regardless, she was grateful for the reprieve.
Pulling on a clean cotton-knit top, she went to answer the door. Dillon stood there, flanked by his girls. She tried to picture the four—or rather, five—of them becoming a family someday and couldn’t imagine it. Things like that happened to other people, not to an ex-model who’d stolen her sister’s fiancé and deserved to live out her life alone.
Chantel stepped back so they could enter. Dillon brushed against her shoulder as he moved past, and she had the urge to run her fingers down his arm and hope his large hand closed over her own.
With an effort she kept her hands to herself. “How was school?” she asked, giving the girls a warm smile.
“Great! Brittney got a hundred on her spelling test,” Sydney said.
“We got ice cream to celebrate,” her sister added.
“Congratulations, Brittney! I’m glad you decided to visit. Would you guys like to stay for dinner? We could order a pizza.”
Dillon caught her eye. “Are you feeling well enough to have us here that long?”
“I’m doing better, actually.”
He smiled, drawing her attention to his lips, which were soft yet firm. He could kiss more wickedly than the devil, she thought, remembering—and wanting to press her lips to his.
She turned away quickly because she knew that if her eyes revealed half of what she felt, they’d make a beggar out of her.
“Want to sit down and do your homework, girls? If we get it over with now, we won’t have to worry about it later,” she suggested.
As Dillon’s daughters hauled their backpacks to her kitchen table, Dillon came to stand behind Chantel. When he spoke, his voice hummed in her ear and his breath teased the back of her neck. “Why am I sensing a little extra energy here?” he asked.
Chantel slanted him a glance. Noting his cocky grin, she realized that her eyes—or some other body language—had given her away, after all. “I think your receptors are screwed up.”
“Where’s my math homework?” Brittney asked, sorting through a stack of notebooks.
“Maybe you forgot it,” Sydney told her.
Dillon obviously wasn’t listening. The girls were preoccupied and so was he. “I think they’re working fine,” he whispered. “I think you’re sending me these signals because, considering our present company, you feel safe.”
She arched a brow at him. “I am safe.”
“Not for long,” he said.
THAT NIGHT Dillon whistled as he shepherded his girls out of Chantel’s condominium and toward his truck. Dusk had fallen and the temperature had dropped into the sixties, but none of them were eager to leave. They’d had an enjoyable evening together, the four of them—so enjoyable it had been all he could do not to stake a very personal claim on Chantel, one his girls could see. Through willpower alone, he’d managed to escape without touching her, but only by promising himself that what he wanted would come later. He needed to take things slowly, let the girls get used to the idea that there might be another woman in his life.
For the first time he f
elt hopeful, excited by the prospect of a more permanent relationship. The girls liked Chantel. She was kind and easy to be around. He was beginning to believe she could actually be an asset in his daughters’ lives, instead of a detriment. And for all of Chantel’s talk about her and their baby not coming as a package, she still wanted him. He could feel the raw physical power of it whenever she looked at him.
“It’s not over till it’s over,” he muttered.
“What, Daddy?” Brittney looked up at him, her brow wrinkling.
“Nothing.” He chuckled. “I’m just talking to myself.”
“You really like Chantel, don’t you?” Sydney asked.
He scowled. Was he that transparent? He had to admit his attraction was difficult to hide. An invisible magnetic force seemed to pull him and Chantel together, causing them to brush against each other every time they passed, to touch at the smallest opportunity. Unfortunately such brief contact appeased nothing, only made him hunger for more.
If she was his wife, he wouldn’t have to leave her now…
“Yeah, I like her,” he admitted. “Do you?”
The furrow in Brittney’s brow deepened. “She’s okay.” She fell silent for a moment, then murmured, “What if you fall in love with her?”
He cleared his throat to hide his surprise and nearly asked, “What if I already have?” Instead, he said, “What if I do?”
“Then you’ll run away and marry her, like Mom did with that guy, right?”
Sydney reached up for his hand. He gave it a squeeze and placed his other hand reassuringly on Brittney’s neck. “I’d never run away from either one of you. Are you kidding? We’re together forever now. A team of wild horses couldn’t drag us apart. All five Power Rangers couldn’t separate us. Even King Kong—”
Sydney giggled and Brittney rolled her eyes, but a dimple dotted her cheek. “Okay, Dad. We get the picture.”
