Harlequin Special Edition October 2015, Box Set 1 of 2

by Christine Rimmer

  “I don’t want you to see me like this,” she whispered. “I’ll be better tomorrow.”

  “I already see you, and why don’t we try to reach that goal tonight?” He had to fight, hard, the sudden need to pull her into his arms. To hold her for however long it took for her body to stop trembling, her tears to stop coming. “You don’t even have to tell me what’s wrong. Let’s just be a boring old married couple and watch TV. Or go for a walk. Or—”

  “Or?” she asked.

  A mistake, probably, but...to hell with it. “Let me hold you while you cry.”

  Indecision darted over her features, but she didn’t say no and she didn’t voice any objections. Logan simply opened his arms and waited. She hesitated, briefly, before stepping into his embrace, and with her cheek pressed against his chest and her arms wrapped around his waist, her tears started coming faster and harder.

  And Logan didn’t know if this was the right or wrong decision, holding Anna in such an intimate way, but he didn’t much care, either. She needed him, he was her husband and it was his job—at least for the next seventeen or so months—to take care of her.

  After a while, he moved them to the living room, to the sofa, and covered them both with a blanket. Slowly her crying subsided and she stopped shivering, but they stayed as they were. It seemed their bodies had melded into one, they were so entwined with each other, and between that and Anna’s scent—a little spicy, a little sweet—and the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, Logan started questioning every last one of his self-made promises.

  Because holding Anna, being surrounded by Anna, being there for Anna, felt more real, more right, more true than any other experience in Logan’s life thus far. All of this could be due to what he’d already considered, that Anna was the mother of his unborn baby and therefore was able to elicit from Logan a mass of unprecedented emotions.

  Could be that, and he wasn’t anywhere close to ruling out that possibility.

  But maybe he should widen his scope some. Consider if this rightness he felt might mean something a lot more lasting than a temporary, in-name-only marriage. Without, of course, doing anything that could jeopardize what he and Anna had already agreed upon.

  Yeah, that could work. He’d just keep his hands on the steering wheel and take it nice and slow, see what his heart told him one day at a time, where it led him once their baby was born, and go from there. There was no cause to rush into a damn thing.

  Hell, truth was, he had well over a year to figure this out.

  Chapter Four

  Early the next morning, Anna woke alone on the sofa. It took a minute to orient herself, to remember where she was and why. Had she really sobbed in Logan’s arms and somehow managed to fall asleep while he held her? She closed her eyes and let out a small breath.

  Yes. On both accounts.

  The memory flooded her cheeks with prickly warmth—what must he think of her?—but strangely, living alongside her embarrassment was a slight sense of comfort. He’d sat in the muck with her, which couldn’t have been easy, and by doing so, proved that they truly were in this together. That he intended to live up to his word and be her partner.

  Which meant that despite their unorthodox relationship and wedding night, despite yesterday’s overwhelming doubt and sudden yearning for more, she had made the right decision. It felt good to have that realization, seeing how she couldn’t turn back the clock and change anything that had already occurred. But an explanation of sorts should probably be made.

  A glance around the living room showed she was alone. She listened to the sounds of the house and heard nothing. Likely, Logan had separated his body from hers at some point during the night to go to his bedroom to sleep in peace. The assumption gave her another ounce of comfort, because it meant she’d have a bit more time to find the rest of her bearings before facing him again. Maybe he wouldn’t even ask about last night.

  Anna sat up slowly, paying close attention to her stomach and waiting for the odd mix of hunger and nausea to hit. In the first few months of her pregnancy, the nausea had won out morning after morning. She’d taken to leaving a few saltine crackers and a bottle of water on her nightstand to subdue both conditions the moment she woke.

  For obvious reasons, she hadn’t made those preparations last night, but today, the only grumbling in her stomach seemed due to hunger. She stood carefully in case the motion would signal the return of her usual bout of morning sickness and, when it didn’t, went to the kitchen. She’d find something for breakfast, take a long, rejuvenating shower and fix her hair, her makeup. Certainly by then, she’d feel much more herself and be back on track.

  Except when she searched the refrigerator and the cupboards, she found a bag of coffee beans, a box of tea, a few frozen pizzas, various condiments and little else. No bread. No cereal. No milk, even if there had been a box of cereal. What in heaven’s name did this man eat, and why hadn’t she thought to go grocery shopping before moving in?

  She wasn’t sure if her frail stomach could handle pizza first thing in the morning but, with little other choice, grabbed one of the boxes and set the oven to preheat. Out of nowhere, a grain of self-confidence emerged and she grinned. It seemed the man who had almost everything under control, and a plan for everything else, hadn’t yet learned how to feed himself properly.

  That, at least, fell into her wheelhouse. Her specialty might be desserts, but Anna enjoyed all aspects of cooking, from planning to preparation. Another plus, since she didn’t work again until Monday, she now knew how to occupy a good portion of her first day as a married woman.

  A shopping trip was definitely in order, followed by a deep cleaning of the house that was now her home. It wasn’t disgusting, by any means, as there was no clutter to speak of. No dirty dishes in the sink—though, really, how could Logan dirty a dish when he had no food?—and there weren’t socks or underwear or the stray shirt lying around.

  But the place was dusty, the kitchen floor needed to be mopped, the windows were...well, spotty was a good word, and she doubted anyone had scrubbed the oven in years.

  Walking into the living room, she mentally reorganized the space. It was crowded with the chair and sofa, the television and Logan’s desk, desk chair, file cabinet and printer, but by swapping a few things around, they might be able to make better use of the room.

  Logan would have to help her move the furniture, but she figured he wouldn’t object. She’d buy some flowers, maybe, and a few decorative accents, to bring warmth into the house. Some big, fat, colorful pillows for the sofa and perhaps a picture or two to hang on the walls. Yes, with very little work, she could make this house feel more like a home.

  There wasn’t any reason not to, and again, she doubted that Logan would object. After all, she’d have to live here for quite a while, and she believed that Logan would want her to feel comfortable, so she might as well do what she could to brighten her surroundings.

  The house was small, with only two bedrooms—fortunately, both were decent in size—one bathroom, a cramped living room and the modest kitchen, barely big enough for the appliances and the table. She and Logan would constantly be under each other’s noses. She wondered how long it would take to become accustomed to each other. Hopefully, not too long.

  Surely before they brought a baby into the mix. Living in such a tight space would prove tough enough for two people, but Anna wasn’t quite sure how they would manage with a newborn. Babies, as little as they were, required a lot of accessories. And while a bassinet would work fine to start, they’d eventually need to buy a crib. She’d like a rocking chair, and...

  With forced effort, she tucked away her worries. The baby wasn’t going to be born tomorrow. They had plenty of time to consider the logistics.

  Pleased to have a plan in place, and to feel more in control of her new life, Anna started to return to the kitch
en. The front door opened, stopping her forward motion. She turned, and there was Logan, carrying two large carryout bags. And oh Lord, did the sight of him cause a curl of longing in her belly. Hot and sharp and fast.

  No, no, no. Couldn’t be longing. Just...surprise.

  “Oh!” she said, trying to hide her reaction and probably failing. “I—I assumed you were sleeping. In your bedroom. And, um, well...hi!”

  “Hi,” he said easily, with a smile that lit up the room, adding far more warmth than a bunch of throw pillows and knickknacks ever could. “I realized my cupboards are fairly empty, so I grabbed us some breakfast.” He held up the bulging bags and his smile became sheepish. “I may have gone overboard in ascertaining I brought something back you’d want.”

  “Looks like you have enough to feed six people,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Trust me, I’m not that picky when it comes to food. I was about to cook one of those pizzas you have in the freezer. But...thank you for being so considerate and generous.”

  She wasn’t speaking only of the ginormous amount of food he’d purchased, but also of how he’d treated her last night. How he’d been there for her without any sign of hesitation or condemnation. How he’d held her until she fell asleep.

  His steady blue-gray eyes met hers with a mix of genuine compassion and understanding. “You’re welcome, Anna. Whatever I can do, I’ll do.” He shrugged and the moment disappeared into the ether. “Now,” he said, heading toward the kitchen, “let’s put yesterday behind us and enjoy breakfast. I’m curious if you’re an eggs-and-bacon girl, or if you’ll go for the banana pancakes and whipped cream.”

  “I’m an appreciative fan of both,” she said as her now-not-frail-at-all stomach growled. Loudly. “I’m suddenly starving, so I hope you also have hash browns, preferably with onions and topped with cheddar cheese. Oh! And sour cream.”

  “I have that and more.” He started unpacking the various containers from the bags onto the chipped Formica counter. “After we eat, if you’re up for it, we should probably hit the grocery store and...well, I wouldn’t mind making another stop. Somewhere we can look at baby stuff together. Maybe buy something for him or her. What do you think?”

  Oh. As of yet, Anna hadn’t purchased so much as a pair of bootees for the baby. She hadn’t allowed herself to celebrate her pregnancy in any way at all. Between the shock of seeing a positive pink line, the realization of her changed future, her anxiety over telling Logan, his unexpected proposal and her acceptance, and then the wedding itself...she hadn’t thought about celebration. She just hadn’t got that far, she guessed.

  But now, with these few words from Logan, her heart opened and the full realization that she was going to be a mother...a mother!...swept in with unadulterated joy. She was ready, finally, to prepare for and celebrate this new life growing inside her, and she couldn’t think of a sweeter, simpler, lovelier way to do so than what Logan had suggested.

  “Yes,” she said, excited and warmed by the prospect. Decorating the living room could wait a day or two or three. “Let’s buy our first something for this baby. Maybe a little outfit, or a toy, or a soft blanket, or—I know! Maybe a teddy bear.” She stopped and inhaled a breath. “I love this idea, Logan. I...didn’t realize how much I needed to celebrate this baby’s existence.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Logan said. “I think it will be good for both of us.”

  He was right, on so many levels. Focusing on the baby today, the day after their wedding, was the perfect way to start this in-name-only, temporary marriage. And shopping for the baby would entail the first decision of many they would make as lifelong, platonic partners.

  As parents. A simple objective, perhaps, but a shared one that would hopefully put everything they were trying to achieve in complete and proper perspective.

  Today there would be no running, no hiding, or—please, God—no crying. She’d revel in this life growing inside her, and she’d do so with Logan.

  * * *

  “I’m nervous,” Anna said, putting voice to Logan’s own sentiment.

  They were about to get their first peek at their baby via an ultrasound, and Logan stood with his back to Anna as she readied herself on the examining table. She’d been told to leave on her underwear but to strip off her pants and cover herself with the provided sheet, and while he remembered Anna’s body well—too well, perhaps—he wasn’t about to gape at her while she undressed.

  “Me too,” he admitted. “But I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “What if he or she is missing a leg? Or an arm? Or what if there’s... Oh, my God,” she said, her voice several pitches higher than normal. “Logan...what if there are two of them?”

  He’d already had the scary thought of missing limbs, along with the possibility of extra limbs. There could be a problem with the baby’s heart or brain or lungs. Any of these probabilities wouldn’t alter Logan’s love or commitment toward his child, but he hated—hated—that in this critical area, he held zero control.

  Still, he kept his voice light as he asked, “Two arms or two legs? I don’t know about you, but my preference is for our baby to have two arms and two legs. Along with a matching set of hands and feet. Two eyes would be good, as well. Don’t you think?”

  “No, you dolt! Two babies,” Anna said. “What if there are two?”

  Twins? The potential, no matter how slight, sent Logan’s heart into overdrive. Mostly he’d set his other fears aside. He and Anna were healthy; therefore, the chances were high their baby would be, also. But he hadn’t considered that their solitary night together might have resulted in the conception of two babies. Two. What would he do with two?

  Well, he’d love them, he supposed. Treasure them. He might even, given time to settle into such a reality, become excited by the prospect. However, in this second on this day, his vast preference was to stick with a solitary infant. Healthy, please, of either gender.

  “Um...do twins run in your family?” he asked, annoyed he didn’t already know the answer. He should know. She was his wife. “Or are you speaking in hypothetical terms?”

  “Hypothetically,” she said. “As far as I know, twins do not run in my family. But there’s always a first time, isn’t there? And there isn’t always a genetic cause, and—” he heard the rustling of a sheet “—they say that morning sickness is often worse with twins. Which, you know, has sort of been the case with me. So, I’ve wondered if that’s why.”

  “I’m sure there are other causes,” he said, instinctively wanting to offer comfort. “But if for some reason we’re having twins, we’ll figure that out, too.”

  They probably weren’t. There had to be plenty of pregnant-with-only-one-child women who suffered from longer-than-typical morning sickness. Had to be. But this discussion highlighted how little he knew about what was going on inside Anna’s body, and he did not like being so unaware. That would have to change. Though he did know a fair amount about pregnant cows.

  Hmm, probably smarter and safer to keep his mouth shut on that topic.

  “It’s perfectly safe to turn around now, Logan. I’m covered,” Anna said. “And you’re right, of course. My aunt said my mother was sick for almost the entire nine months with me and my sisters, so it could be that I take after her.”

  To Logan, that made a lot more sense than the possibility of twins. Relieved, he faced Anna and, pulling a chair next to her, sat down. “Doesn’t matter, though,” he said, speaking with more confidence than he actually felt. “We’ll be fine. One baby or two or...three.”

  “Are you insane? Don’t say three!”

  Her startled tone and stricken features brought forth a laugh. Without thinking about the sanity of the action, he stroked her hair, saying, “Honey, verbalizing the very rare possibility of triplets will not make it a reality.”

  “Yeah? You’re willing to be
t on that?” She shivered. Due to his touch, their conversation or being cold, he wasn’t sure. “Because I’m not. One is my preferred number. Two would be tough, but doable. Three? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

  “I suppose we wouldn’t want the infants to outnumber the adults,” he said, refraining from chuckling a second time. “But we don’t know anything yet, do we? Stop worrying until there’s a cause for worry.” He cracked a grin and tried to add some humor. “Wow, Anna. Can you imagine how big your stomach would get with three babies?”

  Her eyes narrowed into slits and she sniffed. “That is such a male thing to say.”

  Well. Not really. Now, if he’d said he couldn’t imagine how large her breasts would get, that would be a male thing to say. Wisely, he kept that thought to himself.

  The image, however, stuck.

  “On the other hand,” she said in a false, overly bright tone, “trying to imagine you as the father to three girls, who would someday become three emotionally high-strung teenage girls—with boyfriends, I might add—is almost worth the possibility of having triplets.”

  “That’s a fairly large leap. For one,” he said, ignoring the cold shudder of fear sweeping through him, “the chance of having three babies is so incredibly low, it’s basically nonexistent. Second, even if that were to happen, we could have three boys. Or, for that matter, a mixed lot.”

  “Hmm. Yes, you’re absolutely correct,” she said in a sugary, sweet-as-pie sort of way. “I wonder what the actual probability of triplets is? Do you think it’s higher or lower than the probability of becoming pregnant while using a condom?”

  “Lower, Anna. Much, much lower,” he said. He was about to pull out his phone and do a quick search, to back up his statement with solid fact, when the ultrasound technician entered the room. Soon enough now, they’d know exactly how many babies to expect.

  But he had learned a valuable lesson. Never again would he joke about the size of a pregnant woman’s stomach. Even in the abstract. Even if his reasoning was meant to be positive.