Instead of thinking about Karin, he decided to think about lunch. Maybe they would go out and get something to eat. Someplace where there were lots and lots of people. He’d like a hamburger, smothered in onions and cheese and mushrooms. Or they could get a pizza, a deep-dish with green peppers and pepperoni. And didn’t someone mention a great place in town for barbecue chicken?
“Oh, gosh. Look at the time,” Karin muttered in the kitchen. “I’d better get started on lunch.”
“Why don’t we go out?” he suggested.
She stopped in the doorway to frown at him. “You need to stay off that knee, remember?”
“Then why don’t we order in?” Maybe they could convince the delivery person to stay and eat with them.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Mom’s got lots of food here. I can throw something together.”
But before she had a chance, the doorbell rang and Dorothy came in with pizza. Jed had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He limped into the kitchen.
“How’s the knee?” Dorothy asked.
“Great. Fine,” he said.
“It looked like you were limping,” she said with a frown.
“He was,” Karin pointed out. “He’s supposed to stay off it.”
“I had to come out here to eat,” he said. And to look for the sanity he was rapidly losing.
“I could have brought the pizza in there,” Dorothy said. “Or just dropped it off for you two to share. I don’t need to stay and eat with you.”
“No, stay,” he said quickly. Too quickly, he guessed since he got decidedly odd looks from Karin and Dorothy. “Uh, Karin’s going stir-crazy cooped up here with me.”
Dorothy burst out laughing. “What? You two can’t think of anything to do that would keep Jed off his feet?”
“Dorothy!” Karin protested, her cheeks a fiery red.
This wasn’t much help. He went to the refrigerator to pour glasses of lemonade. “So, Dorothy, tell us all about Paris.”
“Oh, heavens, what’s to tell?” she said and brought the glasses over that he’d poured. “I’d much rather hear what it’s like being a cowboy.” Dorothy paused and looked at Karin, a gleam in her eyes. “Or being engaged to one.”
“Golly, that’s all anybody wants to talk about since we got here,” Karin said. “I’d love to hear what it’s like to live in Paris.”
Dorothy shook her head. “That’s all anybody wants to talk about.”
“I’ve got a great idea then,” Jed said. “Why don’t we eat?”
They had a great lunch, with lots of chatter about nothing, but it didn’t take up nearly enough time. Before he knew it, the pizza was long gone, the lemonade all drunk and Dorothy was leaving. The torture of being alone with Karin would begin all over again. Unless he could do something about it.
“I’ll clean up,” he told Karin as she walked Dorothy to the door. “You want to go out with Dorothy, go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
“No.” She turned and gave him a frown that would have slowed a lesser man. “Get back on the sofa and rest that leg.”
He gave her a winning smile. “Look, I’m just going to wash a few dishes and, nimble though I am, I don’t do that with my feet.”
“I think this is where I should leave,” Dorothy said. “Bye all.”
The door was barely closed behind her when Karin had his arm in a monster grip. “Will you get back to the sofa and sit down?”
“I can’t just lie around all day.”
“Yes, you can,” she said.
“No, I can’t,” he insisted. “I’m not made to sit still that long.”
“Then I’ll help you.” Karin pulled him toward the living room.
“I can walk, you know.”
“Then walk over to that sofa and sit down.”
But with her so close to him, with her scent filling up his air and her softness calling to him, his feet didn’t seem to work. Hers didn’t seem to either, and they just stood there for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes.
Then ever so slowly, he put his hand on her back, pulled her to him and gave her a light kiss. Just a little one, nothing serious.
And he had every intention of stopping right there. That little kiss would be enough to take the edge off his desire. It would be enough to warn them both of the dangers of dancing across quicksand. But there was something in her eyes that drew him.
He put his arms around her and drew her close. Very close. So close that air couldn’t have squeezed through the space between them. And this time he was damn serious about it.
He brought his lips down to meet hers, needing to savor their softness, their warmth, their wondrous power. But only for a moment. It would be a quick glimpse of the sun, a quick taste of sweetness, a quick touch of velvet.
Her lips were like golden honey though, and he could not pull away. Their taste, their touch, their potent magic wove a spell all through him of wonder and desire. He wondered how he had lived without her sustenance. The merest touch and he needed her with a power that stunned him, that drove his body hot and hard.
He kissed her again, his mouth pressed to hers with an urgency that took him by storm. His hands held her close, her softness pressed against him. There was a fire raging inside him. Her touch had been a lightning strike that ignited the kindling of his heart. He tried to put it out, but it was a prairie fire burning out of control.
His hands roamed over her back, trying to mold her to fit his need, and every place he touched only made the fire stronger, the desire hotter. He could scarcely breathe or think, but he could feel and want and need and touch. This was heaven and all of paradise awaited, if only—
He pulled away from her, a breath of sanity coming at last, though it was pitifully meager. His legs felt as wobbly as his good sense and Karin looked more than a tad shaky herself.
“You really have to rest,” she said.
Jed didn’t say anything as he limped the few feet to the sofa. A cold shower would be more effective. He stared at the television, trying to keep his eyes away from Karin.
“And I have to figure out what to make for dinner,” Karin said.
Dinner? That was good. Jed tried to concentrate on an ad for macaroni. Food would cool his desire; he just had to think food thoughts. “Cook up some hot dogs,” he suggested.
“No.” Karin frowned. “You don’t feed junk food to a child for dinner.”
Somehow his gaze had crept back to her, and her worried frown tugged at his heart. He wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to take her lip, that pouty lower one, and pull at it gently with his teeth. He wanted to pull at it with his mouth and lick its softness with his tongue. He wanted to—
He needed to get ahold of himself. “Why don’t I spring for dinner?” he suggested.
“You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can.” It was perfect. He owed Karin big time anyway for all she was trying to do for him. Dinner out would be a start. “All I need is my wallet. That kind of springing has nothing to do with my legs.”
Karin didn’t say anything.
Besides, if he stayed here this evening, alone with her and his desires, he’d regret it in the morning. They both would and he was not into making regrets. “I’m a fast healer.”
She grunted.
“But only if I have an incentive.”
She looked at him and the air suddenly vanished. Breathing was as impossible as thinking. The hunger was back, the desperate driving need. He felt as if they were teetering on the edge of a cliff. One false move, one more heated look, and they’d tumble over.
He forced himself to look away. “Dinner at one of Chesterton’s best restaurants,” he said quickly. “That would be a powerful incentive.”
“All right.”
He felt her move and he found that he could breathe again.
“We’ll see how you are later,” she said. “If you’re up to going out, we will. Otherwise we’ll order in.”
“Deal.” He lean
ed back and closed his eyes in relief. He’d battled his desires and won. This time.
But there was no way in hell they were going to stay here this evening. All he had to do was walk without a limp and he didn’t see that that would be a problem. Hell, he’d walked on a broken leg in his time.
Maybe they’d even do something after dinner, just the two of them since Lissa was working on her costume at Ginger’s house again. Nothing risky like dancing or sipping wine by candlelight. No, something safe, but something that Karin would enjoy. Something that would show his gratitude for today.
And he thought he saw an ad in the newspaper for the perfect thing.
No matter how obviously Jed tried to hide his limp, Karin had been prepared to pretend she was fooled. After spending all day cooped up with him in that tiny apartment, she needed to be around other people and get her common sense back. Her hormones had been working overtime and she needed to remind the little devils that she and Jed were not an item.
But by late afternoon, he was barely limping and Karin didn’t have to pretend. They went to the Landing for a leisurely dinner that went by far too quickly. Since when was service so fast, and elaborate dinners so easy to prepare? Her only hope was that her mother had closed the bar early and was up in the apartment. No chance of that.
“You know, you two could go out someplace after you drop me off at Ginger’s,” Lissa said as they finished dinner.
“That would be nice,” Karin said, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
“Good, because I had something planned.” Jed paid the bill and they got to their feet.
“A movie?” Lissa asked as they left the restaurant. “What’re you gonna go see?”
“We’re going to see you off to Ginger’s,” Jed said.
Lissa had a half pout on her face but skipped along with them. “You’re coming to the show at school tomorrow, aren’t you both? Karin, you remind Daddy, okay? And make sure he knows where the school is.”
“I’ll do my best,” Karin promised with a laugh, but a shadow fell across her evening.
It was so sweet, the rapport between Jed and Lissa. The way the little girl tried to take care of him while he was taking care of her. The obvious love they had for each other. She felt the fluttery feeling again and lightly placed her hand over her stomach. She wished she could promise her child that they’d have a wonderful life, just the two of them. But how could she? She had no idea how to parent, how to comfort away disappointments, how to soothe hurts and wipe away the pain, not just the tears.
She got into the Jeep and drove to Ginger’s house, listening to Jed and Lissa talk. Even their normal everyday chatter was hard to listen to, hard not to feel the sting of fear nipping at her heels. Could she even do that with her child?
By the time they dropped Lissa off at Ginger’s, Karin was exhausted. She was too tired to be in any danger from Jed’s kisses. “I’m pretty worn out,” she told Jed. “I’d just fall asleep in the theater and miss the movie.”
“Lucky we aren’t going to the movies then.” He flashed her one of his big cowboy smiles. “Turn left up here and then right at the light.”
“Where are we going?” She wasn’t in the mood for a surprise.
“You’ll see.”
She sighed. But before she could tell him to quit playing games, he directed her into a big strip mall, filled with the usual assortment of large and small stores. And, judging from the banners and balloons, one of them was having a big promotion.
“I figured you work all the time,” he said. “So we’re going to do some browsing and fact-finding.”
“Browsing? For what?” Oh, damn. Her stomach fell into her shoes. The store with the balloons and banners was a baby store. Panic clutched her throat in a death grip. “We don’t have to do this tonight. I’m going to go to a baby-supply store in Chicago.”
“Yeah, but they’re having a baby fair. All sorts of displays and product information. It’ll give you a place to start from when you do the serious shopping.”
Karin could feel the Jeep’s walls closing in on her. She should just drive back out of the lot, but if she did that, he’d want to know why.
“Why don’t we go to a movie?” she suggested.
“We’ll just go in and look around. After a few minutes, if you still want to go to a movie, we will.”
She pulled the Jeep into a parking spot. It would be okay. She would follow along with him, take a quick run through the store and then leave. They’d be out in fifteen minutes, twenty max. It wouldn’t be hard.
Even with her pep talk, she almost bolted when they stepped inside the store. It wasn’t the sappy music or all the blue and pink balloons or the miles of ribbon dangling from the ceiling. It was the millions of glowing pregnant woman, each one accompanied by a beaming husband.
“Hi, folks,” a chipper, nonpregnant woman said, thrusting a little bunny rattle into Karin’s hand. “Welcome to the Bunny’s Hutch Baby Warehouse. Want to enter our drawing?”
Karin looked at the little plastic rattle in her hand as if it were a poisonous spider and shrank back into Jed’s body. His arm went around her, but it brought no comfort.
“First prize is a completely furnished nursery,” the woman went on.
Karin looked up then, her hand tightening around the rattle as if that would somehow close off its power. “No, no. I don’t live here.”
“You can use your mother’s address,” Jed pointed out.
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “That would—”
“I said no,” Karin cried out and hurried down the nearest aisle.
Right into a woman demonstrating various models of mobiles.
Karin pretended to give them a glance and tried to hurry along, but Jed made her stop. He wanted her to look at the mobile with smiling dinosaurs and listen to the music on the one with smiling suns. She felt the horror rising in her with each second she was at the display. Each time that horrible mobile swung around and those awful suns grinned at her.
“Yes, they’re great, but I... I... already have one,” she lied. “A friend from work gave me one. It’s really cute.”
“Oh, okay,” Jed said and finally let her move on, only to stop her at the display of cribs.
There were eight different models there, in different colors and styles. Early American. French provincial. One with a ruffly canopy. She just stared at them, her breath coming in short gasps. They were so solid and definite and... and... and once she had one she couldn’t try to pretend this wasn’t all happening. But what if she bought the wrong kind? What if her baby hated French provincial?
“This is a good brand,” Jed was saying as they looked at a plain white model. “And it’s got teething rails.”
Teething rails? What in the world were teething rails? What if she got a crib without them? She swallowed the fear that seemed ready to choke her and moved into the next aisle.
It was filled with little gadgets—bouncing things you hung in doorways, walkers and wind-up swings. Not to mention enough clothes to outfit every Third World child on the planet. All things that her baby would need, and along with them, Karin would need to know when to use them. How to use them. If to use them.
She felt sick to her stomach. She should never have eaten dinner, and wouldn’t have if she’d had any idea Jed was planning this.
“Oh, these are great.” Jed stopped in front of a display of pouches for carrying a baby.
The woman running the display came over with a smile. “These are for newborns and we have models for children on up to twenty-five pounds.” She was wearing a cocoonlike canvas sack with a doll in it and patted it as she spoke.
Karin stared at it, trying to will her stomach to settle and her breath to slow. This carrier was okay. It was simple. She could handle this.
“This is the greatest invention since sliced bread,” the woman was going on. “It’s easy on your back and puts the child where you can always see it. But, even more important, the baby can alway
s see you.”
Other couples—real couples, Karin thought—had come over to see the display and the woman spun back and forth in a half-circle motion to let everyone see how the baby pouch fit.
“You can be shopping, making dinner or watching TV,” she went on. “No matter what you’re doing, your baby will be able to look up at you and see your love for him or her.”
Her love? The words cut into Karin like a knife.
“How sweet,” someone was murmuring.
“I love it,” someone else agreed.
But what if there was no love in her face? Karin wanted to ask—wanted to scream. What if the baby could tell its mother had no heart?
The store was closing in on her. The happiness of the couples there was smothering her, cutting off all the air, and there was only one thing Karin could do.
She turned and ran down the aisle toward the exit.
She heard Jed calling her, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She had to get out of here. Away from all the happy couples and the good parents and the people so filled with love that their children would be content and successful and never know a moment’s anguish.
All she could do was run down the aisle, shouldering aside the couples in the way, and then out into the darkness of the parking lot.
The good news was, she’d parked the Jeep close to the entrance and had no trouble finding it, even with tears blinding her. The bad news was, she couldn’t seem to open the door, so she just lay against it and cried.
Chapter Eight
Jed was more than concerned. He was terrified. What in the world was going on? But he didn’t ask, just got the car keys from Karin and helped her into the car. Why the hell hadn’t he paid attention when she’d said she didn’t want to go in there? Obviously she was still trying to come to terms with the pregnancy and abandonment.
“I’m really sorry.” He drove from the parking lot. “I just thought—”
“No, I’m the one that should be apologizing,” she said, her voice none too steady, but the tears had stopped. “I acted like an idiot. I really do need to start getting stuff for the baby.”
“But it didn’t have to be tonight,” he said.
Pregnant & Practically Married (The Bridal Circle #3) Page 13
