by Janice Lynn
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
He remained silent, unyielding.
“Fine. Suit yourself.” She gathered up her book and stomped out of the living room in a tantrum he’d have expected from a child but not a woman like Melissa.
Any moment he expected to hear the bedroom door slam, but he only caught the faint sound of her clicking the lock into place. They’d talk later. Melissa’s pride was too hurt for them to make any progress tonight.
James went back to his car to grab his overnight bag and the groceries he’d bought. He needed a shower, food, and sleep in that order.
After months of no appetite, why did hers show up full force tonight? Melissa lay on her bed, reading her book, cursing that she was still on the same page she’d been on before James got home an hour ago. Of course, it might be the tantalizing aromas wafting from the kitchen, stimulating her gnawing stomach. James had always been a good cook.
What was he doing? Didn’t he know that showing up last night, working at her office today, coming home tonight, cooking in her kitchen now, that all those things confused her?
Maybe she was over-analyzing his motives.
He’d told her their baby’s well-being drove his actions.
Could it be that simple? That once the baby was born he’d step out of her life except for the awkward moments of dropping off their child or picking him up?
When he’d held her, kissed her, he hadn’t felt like a man who had no feelings for her, though. Quite the opposite. The attraction still existed between them. Strong, powerful, demanding.
An attraction that she hadn’t had the strength to deny.
Hadn’t wanted to deny.
One touch of his lips and she’d been ready to drag him back into her bed.
He’d wanted her. No words could convince her otherwise. She had felt the evidence of his desire. So why had he pushed her away?
James munched on a carrot and surveyed the meal he’d thrown together. Baked chicken breasts over a bed of wild rice, green beans, fresh carrot sticks that she must have purchased sometime during the past week, bread rolls because, quite frankly, she needed the carbs, and apple sauce for desert.
He poured two glasses of milk and set them on the table.
Now the question was whether or not Melissa was going to stay in her room pouting all night.
Nursing her wounds might be more accurate.
Because he’d hurt her. Not intentionally, but he wouldn’t lie to her. He didn’t want their old life back. Not ever.
Not that he didn’t want Melissa, but he wanted commitment. Mental, physical, emotional, spiritual, he wanted it all.
And, damn it, tonight, when she’d looked at him, he’d have sworn Melissa wanted the same thing.
Definitely, she wanted him physically.
His stomach flip-flopped at the memory of her body pressed against his, of her sweet plea not to stop. How he’d found the strength, he didn’t know. Even now he hungered to burst into her bedroom, push her back on her bed, and have his way with her body, starting at her mouth and working his way down, kissing every inch of her delectable flesh, discovering firsthand the changes to her blossoming body.
If he made love to her, he’d be a slave to the power she held over him. He’d fall victim to the need to have her again and again. And he’d never be able to leave after the baby came. He wondered how he’d manage that anyway.
He had to tell her about Cailee. Soon. But not yet. He couldn’t bear it if he looked in her eyes and saw the disgust he felt toward himself for his mistakes.
Sighing, he knocked on her bedroom door. “Melissa? Dinner’s ready.”
No answer. Big surprise.
“You need to eat. For the baby.”
He heard movement, then the door opened and, without looking at him, she marched past.
James watched her head toward the kitchen in an almost six-months pregnant waddle. At least she planned to eat.
He’d keep the conversation light, establish peace between them. For the next few months his whole world would revolve around making Melissa’s life easier.
James listened to Caren Little, a hefty sixty-year-old who appeared much older, go on and on about her husband’s bunions, her daughters ignoring her, her neighbor’s penchant for gossiping, her second cousin Bertha’s cheating husband, and how the pharmaceutical companies were ripping off the poor. Surreptitiously, he glanced at his watch.
How long could she drone on without getting to the point of why she was at the clinic?
“So, what exactly is it that I can do for you today?” he finally asked.
She gave him a startled look. “Nothing, child.”
Child? He’d choose to ignore that, but nothing?
“Mrs Little, you understand that there are other patients waiting to see me? That my time is valuable, and if there’s nothing I can do for you, you’ve taken up time I could have spent with another patient.” He pinned her with a direct stare. “Why are you here?”
The woman’s wrinkled face drew into a frown and her chubby arms crossed. Unwaveringly, she met his gaze with her arcus-rimmed pupils. He mentally made a note to check her cholesterol levels as fatty deposits in the eye caused the light ring to form.
“To see Dr Melissa, of course.” Her expression said she thought he was the one missing a few marbles.
This was Melissa’s practice, a practice she loved, so he remained diplomatic, pleasant even as he smiled at the woman. “She’s not here this afternoon.”
Melissa had gone to see Dr McGowan that afternoon. He’d wanted to go with her, but that meant closing the office, and she wouldn’t hear of it. They’d worked out a compromise and he went every other visit. That way he could at least keep current on what was going on with the baby.
The woman gave him a worried look. “But she will be back tomorrow, right? I really need to see her. It’s a matter of life and death.”
A matter of life and death? That sounded more up his alley. Pleased that they were finally getting somewhere, James took the woman’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Mrs Little, if it’s that urgent, I can take care of you today and then you won’t need to see Dr Conner tomorrow.”
The woman’s drawn-on-with-a-black-pencil brows V’d. “But you don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”
Exactly. “Then perhaps you will enlighten me so we can take care of this life-and-death matter.”
She pulled her hands free and tightened her arms across her chest in a protective gesture. “But you’re not Dr Melissa.”
“No.” His patience wore thin. “But I am a trained medical doctor and am more than qualified to take care of any medical issue you have. Particularly life-or-death ones.”
She didn’t look impressed. Neither did she budge an inch from her stance, just gave him a smug look. “Qualified doesn’t mean you can do squat for my problem.”
“True enough.” He took a deep breath. “But if you tell me what ails you, we can determine if I can or if you need an appointment with Dr Conner tomorrow.”
The woman’s gaze dropped to her abundant lap, as did her hands. She wrung her arthritic fingers. “I can’t sleep at night,” she admitted.
Finally. “Insomnia is a common problem. I’ll give you a handout on some lifestyle tips to make sure you aren’t causing the insomnia through diet or behavior.” He scribbled some remarks in her chart. “I’ll also write you a prescription.”
That drawn-on brow so in contrast to her shock of white hair lifted. “Ain’t no sleeping pill going to help me sleep.”
“How would you know that?” He’d reviewed Mrs Little’s chart and hadn’t seen any documentation of medication trials. The woman rarely came in other than for a refill on her heart medicines and the occasional upper respiratory infection.
She tossed another look that said he wasn’t right. “Because you didn’t ask why I ain’t sleeping.”
James had to give credit where cred
it was due. She had a point. He hadn’t asked. He’d been in too big a hurry to move on to the next patient so he could finish his day and check on Melissa. He wanted to know what Dr McGowan had told her, how the baby was progressing, though mainly he just wanted to see Melissa.
“Why can’t you sleep, Mrs Little?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound patronizing. He had no doubt the older woman would call him on it if he did.
“’Cos Mr Little won’t let me.”
James suspected he was the one wearing that missing-a-few-marbles look now. “He snores?” he guessed.
The woman frowned. “All his life, but what does that have to do with my not sleeping?”
James sat the chart down on the counter. “Mrs Little, could you, please, just tell me what Mr Little is doing that’s keeping you from sleeping?”
“Not if you’re going to take that tone of voice, young man.” Her arms crossed and she locked up as tight as Fort Knox.
James bit back his natural inclination and instead coated his words with sugar. “I’m sorry, Mrs Little. I’m here to help and really do want to help you get some sleep. If you can just tell me what the problem is, perhaps we can arrange for you to get a good night’s rest.”
She gave him a doubtful look, but shrugged. “It’s that prescription stuff Dr Melissa gave my husband.”
James felt as lost as before they’d started the conversation. “What prescription would that be?”
“That blue pill,” she said with total loathing.
“Blue pill?”
“You know.” She gave him a look that said he definitely should know what she was talking about. “That Viagra stuff that makes men not let their wives sleep. Now, what are you going to do to help me get a decent night’s sleep?”
Melissa waddled like a bloated penguin. Her feet hurt. Her face looked puffy. Her bladder was the size of a pea. And her lower back hurt twenty-four hours a day.
But she wore a smile most of the time.
Because of the man who sat with her feet in his lap. While reading an article in Emergency Medicine, he absently massaged her arches.
They’d fallen into a routine and, if only he’d loved her, she’d be in heaven.
Because she did want James’s love.
If there had ever been any doubt in her mind, there no longer was. He completed her, made her feel capable of conquering the world. Those weeks without him had proved that life wasn’t much without him to share it.
Sure, she loved her practice, but her career made for a lonely bed partner.
And she did crawl into bed alone every night.
Not once had James set foot into their room. Would she ever stop thinking of it as “their” room?
His fingers trailed lightly over her toes and she met his gaze, catching him watching her. A glimpse of lust dissipated almost immediately, making her wonder if she’d imagined it.
“You OK?” he asked, when she continued looking at him.
How could she not be? Every moment he was there, touching her, she wanted to store it all in her memory. Store it for the empty nights she’d have after he moved to Nashville for good.
She caressed her stomach. “The baby’s just wiggling a lot tonight.” True enough. Based on what an energy ball their son was in utero, she suspected he’d give his parents a run for their money.
James’s gaze dropped to her belly. His eyes widened when the mound of flesh shifted beneath her cotton maternity top.
He dropped his magazine onto the coffee table and scooted closer. “May I?”
He wanted to touch her belly? Other than her feet and calves, he didn’t touch her, not since the night he’d moved home. Sometimes she thought he purposely avoided touching her, despite the fact that she yearned for his touch.
Nodding, she took his hand and guided it to where it was sure to receive a quick jab. Mere seconds passed before her belly bumped against James’s hand.
“Amazing.” He placed his other hand against her belly and cradled her between his palms. The fabric from her shirt bunched and he tugged at it, trying to smooth it.
Melissa made a quick decision. Her heart thumping and feeling almost shy, she placed her hand over his and guided the fabric upward, revealing the pale, stretched flesh.
James’s gaze followed her movements, but he didn’t comment, just slid his hands over her bare belly, cupping the fullness as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever touched.
It likely was, she realized.
True to his nature, the baby showed off under his father’s attention. Kicking and jabbing at Melissa’s insides with the fervor of a manic on a caffeine high. Perhaps the rush of adrenaline and hormones surging through his mother spurred the little fellow on.
James touched her. Really touched her.
How long they sat like that she wasn’t sure. Only that when their gazes met, such tenderness glowed from his blue eyes that her throat knotted and her chest constricted into a tight band around her lungs.
She loved him. With all her heart. All her soul. All of who she was.
And he’d loved her, too. Although he may not have realized it, she knew he had.
Only she’d let his love slip through her fingers without ever knowing what a precious gift she’d had.
James jerked his hands away from her belly, as if he’d looked into her eyes and been scalded by her thoughts.
His gaze took on a faraway look. “I had a sister.”
A sister? She’d never heard him mention a sister. She stared at him, saw the sheen of sweat on his brow, the pallor to his skin, the lost depths to his eyes.
And she knew what he was going to say even before he continued and her heart shattered into a million pieces at the pain inside him.
“Cailee was a surprise to my parents. They were in their early forties. I had turned seventeen a few months before she was born and was checking into colleges. I wanted to be a computer programmer.” At her surprised look, he gave an ironic nod. “My mom suffered from postnatal depression after Cailee’s birth and my dad decided taking her out for the evening might lift her spirits. I was to watch Cailee and wasn’t happy about it. I’d had plans to go hang out with some buddies.”
Memories assailed him and he could almost hear Tyler and Ryan’s voices as they kidded him on playing nanny. “Instead, they came to the house. Cailee was sleeping and we played video games.”
He stopped, collecting his thoughts, his courage so he could push on. Keeping his gaze averted for fear of what he’d see, he began again.
“After they left, I checked on her. I thought she was just sleeping.” He relived the panicked horror that had drenched him as he’d realized Cailee’s little chest hadn’t been rising and falling with the sweet baby sounds of slumber. “I was wrong.”
“Was it SIDS?” Emotions choked her words. Tears flooded her eyes and fell onto her cheeks.
James didn’t answer her question, just continued. “I tried to revive her, but I didn’t know what to do. My efforts were useless. I couldn’t bring her back.” His voice broke and he stopped, unable to go on without losing the calm control he desperately clung to.
“Oh, James, how tragic. I’m so sorry.”
“It was SIDS, apparently. At the time I’d never even heard of it. But I know the tragedy was because of my negligence. If I’d checked, kept my eye on her like I was supposed to, she wouldn’t have died.”
“You were only a child yourself,” she defended him. “You can’t watch over a sleeping baby every second of every minute. It really wasn’t your fault, James. Surely your parents didn’t blame you.”
“No,” he admitted. His parents had never once voiced what he knew in his heart. It had been his fault. “They were too busy blaming each other to ever blame me. They divorced less than six months after Cailee’s death.”
“You lost your whole family that summer,” she said, pity softening her words. “That’s why you didn’t want children? Because of what happened with Cailee?”
Ja
mes wanted her pity even less than he wanted her disgust. Why had he told her? Because feeling the baby move within her womb had made it so much more real that he was going to be a father. And he should be scared, keeping himself aloof. Instead, excitement filled him. He wanted this baby.
And that realization did scare him.
“Now you know.” He gathered his magazine, stood, and turned away from her. “It’s been a long day.” He faked a yawn. “I’m calling it a night.”
“James, wait.” She reached for his hand, squeezed it. “Let’s talk about this.”
“No, I’ve said all I’m saying on the matter. You wanted to know my reasons.” He pulled free from her grasp and headed out of the room. He’d said all he had to say and just wanted to escape her piteous eyes. “Now you do, and it changes nothing.”
CHAPTER TEN
MELISSA swore her belly was going to burst if she gained another ounce. Already breathing had become a major ordeal and not much was worth the effort of moving. Thirty-nine weeks pregnant, feet swollen, hands swollen, belly definitely swollen, and backache that increased each day. It took all her willpower to keep going.
But she did keep going.
Like today. Barely ten in the morning and already she’d seen a half dozen patients. She rubbed her lower back, wishing the pain would ease, knowing from her experience over the past week that it wouldn’t.
“The next room is Jamie Moss,” Debbie said, taking it on herself to rub Melissa’s tight belly.
Everyone seemed to think it their right to touch her stomach, like she was some type of pregnant Buddha to rub for fortune or entertainment. Melissa smiled to herself. No one seemed able to resist the lure of the well-rounded belly.
“How’s Junior doing?” Debbie handed Jamie’s chart to Melissa.
“Kicking for all he’s worth.” She forced a smile, taking the chart. Although she still didn’t know for certain, she’d taken to calling the baby “he”. James hadn’t corrected her, neither had he batted an eyelash when she bought blue item after blue item.
