Baby On The Way (11 page)

His groans of completion mingled with her soft cries. Spooned together, his body still curved around hers, they lay together as their breathing slowed.

When he held her in his arms, whenever they made love, everything felt right with the world. Full of contentment, Del had almost drifted off to sleep when he felt Libby ease out of his hold. An odd emptiness growing inside him, he watched from beneath lowered lashes as she moved to the far side of the bed and turned away with a sigh.

She’d been turning away a lot of times lately, he realized suddenly. In bed and out.

Long after she’d fallen asleep, Del lay with his hands linked behind his head, staring up at the dark
ceiling. He couldn’t kid himself any longer, things still weren’t right between them.

He’d thought if he could get her to come to him, their problems would be resolved. He’d thought if he could get her back into his bed, everything would be like it had been before—the first time they’d made love.

But it wasn’t. Libby was friendly enough, but there were no more of those deep, soul-satisfying conversations like they’d had those few far-off days when they’d first met—when they’d been completely honest with each other, revealing things they never had before. Oh, she talked—she especially talked about the baby. Her future plans for him, how she’d take care of him. But she wasn’t asking for Del’s advice or including him in those plans. She’d be able to share the same things with a chance stranger she’d met on the streets—like that damn doctor, he thought with a sour taste in his mouth.

Del suspected she no longer wanted to share anything intimate with him at all. Even during lovemaking, he was always aware that she was holding something back, keeping a part of herself aloof. It baffled and enraged him. But what really hurt was the way she’d move away afterward, placing a careful distance between them in the bed. It was as if that foot or so of empty white sheet negated what they’d just shared.

His jaw clenched and he sat up. Well, it wouldn’t work—not anymore. He reached over and carefully drew Libby’s limp, sleeping form into his arms. She snuggled her head on his shoulder and draped a leg and arm across him. He dropped a kiss on her soft hair.

Holding her close, he tried desperately to think of a way to get her to abandon this game she was playing. They weren’t strangers; they were lovers. She belonged to him.

The firm curve of her stomach pressed against his hip. The baby kicked faintly and Del placed his hand against the tiny movement. The baby belonged to him, too.

His eyes narrowed. Maybe that was the problem. As long as she refused to admit the baby was his, Libby was able to pretend that they weren’t as involved as they were. Once she admitted to everyone the baby was his, would she still feel such a need for distance? Probably not. But could she be persuaded to admit to everyone that he was the father? He doubted it.

So maybe she’d have to be trapped into the admission.

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. He hugged her a little closer. This time he’d make certain Libby was well and truly caught.

They were caught late the next morning lying in bed as Christine and Dorrie Jean walked past the open bedroom door.

Del watched from beneath half-closed lids, his arm draped around Libby, as the two women paused in the hallway, identical expressions of shock on both faces.

He had heard them coming. Christine’s chatter, as she unlocked the door downstairs a few minutes earlier, would have been hard to miss. When he heard them climbing the stairs, Chris complaining all the way to Dorrie Jean about the weight of her suitcases,
he’d started to wake Libby—only to think better of the idea. This might be the opportunity he’d been hoping for. If his sister and Dorrie saw them in bed, Libby couldn’t deny her involvement with him any longer.

At that moment, Libby turned and cuddled closer, sealing her fate. Del decided to wait just a few minutes more.

His sister blurted out, “Omigosh!” before Dorrie managed to yank her out of sight. That ought to do it, he thought. Now to wake up Libby.

“Sweetheart…” he crooned softly in her ear.

She scrunched up her face in annoyance and burrowed farther into her pillow.

He waited a few seconds and tried again. “Libby…” The pink lobe of her ear was too tempting. He nibbled on it gently.

This time she responded. She gave a husky chuckle, while at the same time snuggling her bottom more firmly against him.

Gallantly, Del resisted her unspoken invitation. “Libby,” he murmured a little louder, “Christine is home.”

“That’s nice.” Libby sighed, pillowing her cheek on her hand. “Tell her—” She jerked upright.
“What did you say?”

He met her gaze calmly. “I said Christine is back from her trip a day early.”

“Oh, no,” she moaned. Pushing her hair out of her face, she searched frantically through the rumpled bedclothes. “Oh, no,” she said again and began tunneling her way beneath the covers to the foot of the bed.

Del regarded the wiggling lump of her bottom with interest. “What’re you doing? Trying to hide?”

“Don’t be silly! I’m trying to find my nightgown. I need to get out of here before Christine sees me.”

“She’s already seen you.” He added on an afterthought. “Dorrie Jean, too.”

The lump under the bedclothes froze, then moaned again. “Oh, no!”

“Yep.” Del stretched luxuriously, yawning hugely. Scratching his chest, he glanced around and caught sight of Libby’s nightgown on the floor next to the bed. Stealthily, he snaked his leg out from beneath the covers into the cold morning air and hooked the gown on his toe. Hauling it up, he hastily stuffed it under his pillow. He leaned back, linking his hands behind his head just as she popped up from beneath the covers again.

“Where could it be?” she wailed, holding the blankets to her chin.

He shrugged.

“There it is!” She pounced on a bit of lace poking out from beneath his pillow and pulled the gown out. Del sighed regretfully, hastily assuming a surprised expression when she glanced his way. “How on earth did it get there?” she asked suspiciously.

He innocently spread his hands, palms up. “I have no idea.”

Still holding the bedclothes up over her breasts, Libby struggled into her nightie. “You think they saw us?”

“Yeah.”

Her anxious face pushed through the neck opening. “You’re
sure?”

He pictured Christine’s astounded expression. “Very.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

“What can we do but go down and say hello? We can’t stay up here all day.” He swung his legs out of the bed, standing up for another stretch.

Libby quickly averted her eyes from his nude form—then snuck a quick peek. Although she’d tried to hide it, she never could resist looking at him.

Catching her studying him, his gaze heated. “Unless you
want
to stay up here.”

Her fists clenched as she looked pointedly away. “How can you joke?”

“It’s not the end of the world, Lib.” He pulled on his jeans, buttoning them as he turned to face her. “Get dressed and we’ll go down and face them together.”

“No. Not now. Not together.” She envisioned Christine’s shock, her own humiliation.

His brows drew together and he placed his hands on his hips. “Are you ashamed of being seen with me?”

“Yes.” His scowl deepened and she added hastily, “Oh, not with you per se, but what are they going to think? Here I am—pregnant—and already in bed with who they believe is another man.”

“So we’ll tell them the truth—that you’ve only ever slept with me and that’s my kid you’re carrying.”

“I can’t do that—I don’t want to do that. What would everyone say?”

Del shook his head in exasperation. “Who cares?”

Libby gazed at him, her eyes stricken. “I do.”

Softening a bit at the distressed look on her face, Del added, “Don’t worry about it. Run along and get
dressed. I’ll go down and explain.” He headed to the door.

“No! Maybe I can convince them not to tell anyone.”

He paused. “Dorrie Jean won’t tell anyone.”

Libby looked up hopefully. “She won’t?”

“Nope.”

His tone was so definite Libby relaxed a little—only to tense again as he added, “Christine will, though.”

She shoved at the covers. “I have to stop her. Don’t say anything until I get there.”

“Libby.” He gave her a reproachful look. “Don’t you trust me?”

Before she could answer, he strode out the door.

Libby hurried to stop him, but by the time she made it into the hall, he’d already disappeared down the stairs. She raced up to her bedroom, threw on some clothes and dashed down again, entering the kitchen in a breathless rush.

Christine and Dorrie Jean both glanced up at her arrival. Chris was sitting with both elbows leaning on the table, while Dorrie Jean appeared to be edging toward the door.

Dorrie Jean put her hand on the knob. “Hello, Libby. Sorry to have, uh, woken you up.” Her face flamed with embarrassment. “I’d better get home now. Mother is waiting for me to drive her to her pedicure.”

“Let me walk you out, Dorrie,” Libby said, ignoring Del’s bland look and Chris’s surreptitious wink. “I want to talk to you a minute.”

They both stepped outside on the sunny back porch, and Libby closed the door firmly behind them. She was considering how to phrase what she wanted to say
when Dorrie Jean said shyly, “I’m so happy for you, Libby.”

“You are?” Libby bit her lip. “Uh, what exactly did Del tell you?”

“Just that he’s asked you to marry him and that you’re still trying to make up your mind. I think you should say yes.”

“Oh, Dorrie…” Libby said helplessly. “You must think I’m terrible.”

“Of course I don’t.” Dorrie picked up a burgundy maple leaf that had fallen onto the wide porch railing. She twirled it between her fingers, sending Libby a fleeting glance. “I—I’m glad that you and Del have gotten together,” she said haltingly. “He’s a nice guy. He never made fun of me, like some of the other guys did in school. Once, he even took me to a prom. Mother asked him to ask me. I know, but Del never let on. He pretended it was all his own idea.”

Dorrie met Libby’s gaze, a rare smile lighting up her solemn gray eyes. “Everyone was always doing that to Del—his mom, Christine, even the other women in the town. They all take advantage of his niceness, his sense of responsibility. I’ve often wondered if maybe that wasn’t part of the reason he stays away so much from Lone Oak.”

She shyly touched Libby’s arm. “He must really care for you, Libby, if he’s willing to take on the responsibility of another man’s child.”

An unexpected lump clogged Libby’s throat.
He doesn’t care for me,
she wanted to respond.
I’m just a responsibility, too.
Instead, she swallowed, saying softly, “It’s a bit more complicated than that. I really
would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anybody what you saw.”

“Of course I won’t.”

“Thanks, Dorrie.”

Libby watched Dorrie Jean leave through the picket gate, then walked back into the kitchen with a sigh. Christine was no longer there. Del, busy cracking eggs in a big yellow bowl, glanced up to ask cheerfully, “One egg or two? I’d better make it two,” he decided before she could speak. “You didn’t eat much last night.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Libby said, but knew it would make no difference. He’d make the eggs, anyway. “Where’s Chris?”

“Probably on the phone, spreading the good news.”

“Oh, my God—” Libby started to rush out of the room.

He caught her arm lightly to stop her. “Whoa, slow down there. I was just kidding.” Although he was smiling slightly, his eyes held an intent look as he added, “Besides, would it be so horrible if I wasn’t?”

“Yes,” Libby said unequivocally. “You don’t want to be tied down—not really.” As he opened his mouth to interrupt, she added, “And I want something more in a relationship than good sex.”

His eyes narrowed, his mouth flattening into a thin line. “At least you acknowledge we have that much,” he drawled. “Don’t be so quick to knock good sex.”

“I’m not,” she answered just as lightly. “But I’m not going to base a major life decision on it, either.”

She strolled out of the room, hiding the sudden shakiness she felt inside. She found Christine upstairs unpacking her suitcases.

Christine pounced as soon as Libby entered the room. “Great!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “I was hoping you’d come up so we can talk. I don’t have much time—I’m flying out tomorrow morning.”

Always on the go. Just like her brother, Libby thought with faint weariness. Why couldn’t these Delaneys stay in one place?

“Libby.” Christine touched her gently on the shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

“I’m just tired,” she said automatically.

She immediately wished she could call the words back. Chris’s blue eyes gleamed. “I can understand why after seeing you and my brother in bed together.”

Libby’s face flushed. “Which is exactly what I came up here to talk to you about—”

“Go ahead! I can’t wait to hear the details,” Chris said, throwing several blouses from the case onto the floor. She picked one back up, clipping it on a metal hanger. “I had no idea you and my brother had gotten together.”

“We haven’t.” Libby sat down at Chris’s dressing table. Pushing aside the plethora of makeup littering the surface, she propped her elbows on the table to rub her temples.

Christine shot her a disbelieving look. “Oh, c’mon. I’m sorry Dorrie Jean and I embarrassed you, but you were in bed together.”

“That was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things.”

Christine’s brows drew together over her eyes in a way that was disconcertingly like her brother’s. “I don’t believe it,” she said bluntly. “I know my

brother is no saint, but he would never take advantage of you simply for a sexual relationship.”

“He didn’t. If anything, I took advantage of him—oh, please, Chris, do you mind if we don’t discuss this anymore? All I want is your promise you won’t tell anyone what you saw.”

Christine’s eyes widened in hurt surprise. “Why of course I wouldn’t tell anyone—not on purpose, anyway,” she added conscientiously. “I promise I’ll try extra hard not to let anything slip.”