Baby On The Way (2 page)

No, she’d made the right decision. She didn’t want her baby growing up with a father who didn’t care, who showed up only one or two weeks out of the year. Besides, he certainly hadn’t made much of an effort to keep in touch. Sure, he’d left her an emergency number, but he certainly hadn’t bothered to call. Smoothing down her jumper over her stomach, Libby unconsciously lifted her chin. As far as she was concemed.
he
no longer had anything to do with the matter. Having this baby was her decision, and hers alone.

Mrs. Peyton patted her arm. “I can see that you realize I’m right,” she said with all the assurance of a woman who couldn’t imagine ever being wrong.

Libby dredged up a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Peyton,” she said, avoiding a direct answer. “You’ve been a great help.”

Looking satisfied, Mrs. Peyton allowed her daughter to lead her away to the refreshment table as the doorbell chimed again.

Susan hurried in from the kitchen. “That has to be Christine,” she said, striding toward the door. Glancing at Libby, her eyebrows rose. “Good Lord, you look tense, Libby! This is supposed to be fun, for goodness’ sake. Try and relax a little. Lean back and take a deep breath.”

Obediently, Libby leaned back and took a deep breath-then promptly lost it again. Christine entered the hallway, and right behind her Libby glimpsed a man with dark rumpled hair, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

A tall, broad-shouldered man. A slim-hipped, sexy man. A very grim-faced man.

“Del” A. Delaney.

W
hat was
he
doing here?

Frantically, Libby tried to extricate herself from the chair. Del hadn’t seen her yet; Susan had claimed his attention from the moment he’d stepped in the hallway. If she could only hoist herself up, there was a slim chance she could escape to the bathroom before he caught sight of her.

But the chair wouldn’t let her go, and across the room she could hear Chris’s voice lilting above the buzz of feminine greetings, “So where is she? Where’s Libby?”

Libby stifled a groan as, without hesitation, Del looked up over Susan’s blond head, his dark blue gaze snaring Libby’s as she collapsed back in her chair. She was thankful to be sitting down, because she suddenly felt light-headed. In all her fantasies of seeing Del again, she’d been poised, slim and flawlessly groomed. In control and coldly aloof. Never had she imagined confronting him after a hard day’s work with her hair all wet from the rain, her makeup worn off and her ankles swollen to the size of tree trunks.

And with the leading ladies of Lone Oak curiously watching.

Sure enough, Christine—like several others—had followed her brother’s gaze. “There you are!” she sang out. Grabbing Del’s arm, she pulled him away from Susan and toward Libby, all the while chattering gaily to the other guests. “Hi, everyone! Guess what? Del’s back! He’s just finished up a job in Seoul and decided to drop in and visit the old family home. He insisted on coming with me—supposedly to help with the decorations, but in reality, I suspect, to get a piece of cake.”

Everyone accepted the explanation easily enough, Libby noticed. Susan even took the opportunity to call out after him, “Oh, do you like sweet things?” batting her lashes in a way that made Libby’s stomach turn with a nausea that had become all too familiar during the past few months. Personally, she didn’t buy the explanation for a moment. Did he suspect—? Surely not.

Still, her trepidation grew when he nodded slightly in response to Susan’s remark, but didn’t pause or remove his gaze from Libby as he made his way across the room behind his sister. He reached her side and Libby swallowed, painfully aware of that laser-sharp gaze sweeping slowly over her face to her swollen breasts, and down farther yet, to linger on her rounded belly. Oh, he suspected all right.

She avoided his eyes as he looked back up to her face, focusing instead on Christine, who’d plopped down on the arm of the chair.

“Sorry I’m late, Lib,” Chris said cheerfully. Her mobile mouth turned down in a wry grimace, as she playfully elbowed the tall figure standing silently beside her. “I’d blame Del here, but I doubt anyone
would believe me. Oh, this is my big brother, Del. Del, this is Libby-our boarder. I’m so happy you both finally have the chance to meet.”

To Libby, the silence that followed seemed to stretch forever. Finally Del drawled, “Hello. Libby, is it?”

She nodded, sighing in relief that he hadn’t revealed that they knew each other. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as she’d first imagined?

Hopefully, her gaze lifted to his.and skittered away again. His hard face wore a politely inquiring expression, but his eyes-oh, those eyes! Accusing anger lit them like a hot blue flame.

She could feel the heat of a blush rise in her cheeks. He might suspect but he couldn’t know for sure, she reminded herself frantically. All she had to do was to act natural.

But acting natural suddenly seemed very hard to do. Her throat closed tight and her hands displayed an alarming tendency to flutter. Resolutely, she clasped them tightly in her lap. “Hello,” she managed to say, forcing a smile. “Christine has told me a lot about you.”

She had no intention of shaking hands, but he reached down, his knuckles almost brushing her stomach as he captured her cold fingers. “Oh, she has, has she?” he said. “Funny, she hasn’t said much about you. In fact, until today I had no idea at all that our new little boarder was expecting.”

“Oh, didn’t you?” Libby said weakly. The rough texture of his hand felt disconcertingly familiar. Suddenly she remembered the last time he’d touched her-touched her all over. His fingers molding her
breasts, gliding down between her thighs. Her fingers burned in his big, warm grasp and, unobtrusively, she tried to tug her hand free.

Del, however, ignored her efforts, his grip tightening as she continued to avoid his gaze. She finally abandoned the hand-to-hand combat to remark, “Maybe Christine didn’t think you’d be interested in babies.”

He leaned closer, his expression darkening. Libby shrank back into the cushions, alarmed at having provoked him as he said, “Then
maybe
she’d be wrong, wouldn’t she? I am
very
interested in
your
baby.”

Chris glanced back and forth between them and beamed. “I just knew you two would hit it off,” she said happily. “It’s almost uncanny, this ability I have to read people. Didn’t I tell you, Libby, that my brother was a great guy?”

“Yes, you did.” Libby gave another tug on her hand.

“Del!” Mrs. Peyton, pulling a red-faced Dorrie Jean behind her, joined the group. With a warning squeeze, Del released Libby to smile briefly down at the older woman.

“How are you?” Mrs. Peyton said, her broad smile making her cheeks look plumper than ever. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

The room blurred before Libby’s eyes, clearing again as Mrs. Peyton continued, “.that you got another promotion.”

“Thanks, yes, I did,” Del answered.

“Dorrie Jean and I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Mrs. Peyton released Dorrie Jean to pull a chair closer, but before she could sit down, Del glanced across the
room and said casually, “It looks like Susan is cutting the cake.”

“She is?” Mrs. Peyton’s eyes sharpened with interest. “She’ll probably want my help. Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

She hurried off with Dorrie Jean following and Chris bent over to whisper in Libby’s ear, “Mrs. P. is dedicated to finding a husband for Dorrie Jean and thinks Del would be perfect. She asks about him every time I talk to her even though I’ve told her over and over that this brother of mine is married to his work—”

“Chris…” Del’s low voice interrupted his sister’s and he shot her a warning glare. She glanced inquiringly up at him. “I’ve told you before. Quit discussing my business with everyone in Lone Oak.”

“I don’t,” Chris declared indignantly. “I’m merely polite when Mrs. Peyton asks about you, that’s all. It’s not my fault she thinks you’d be the perfect son-inlaw.”

Obviously unconvinced, he turned back to Libby. Studying her with intent eyes, he demanded, “And what exactly has Chris told you about me?”

“Well, she said…” Libby groped for a coherent answer. What
had
Chris told her—and what had she learned from Del himself? She couldn’t seem to think straight. He was standing so close that she could feel the cold, crisp air from outside that still clung to him, see the tiny lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

“Are you all right, Libby?” Chris asked.

Libby blinked. Chris was staring at her in concern, while Del’s gaze held narrow-eyed speculation. Anxious
to distract him, Libby hurried into speech. “She told me about your promotion—and what a lot of responsibility you have now. I suppose you have to get back right away,” she added on a hopeful note.

He obviously didn’t appreciate her attempt to hurry him off. Crossing his arms, he drawled, “Actually, no. I plan to spend a few days in Lone Oak. Look up an old.acquaintance I met on my last visit.”

“Oh?”

“Oh,
^yes.”
His wide mouth tightened as he studied her face. “By the way, Chris wasn’t sure.when
^is
your baby due?”

Libby hesitated, floundering through mental math. She stammered out, “In…in about another three months.”

Christine’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “But, Lib, I thought you said—”

“Excuse me, Chris, but Susan is trying to get your attention—and Del’s, too, I think,” Libby said desperately. She gestured to the far side of the room. “I suppose she wants to start some games.”

“The games!” Christine’s blue eyes lit up. “I’m in charge of those.” She hurried over to where the blonde stood waiting.

Libby held her breath, but to her dismay Del didn’t follow his sister. Lifting his eyebrows in a sardonic fashion, he murmured, “Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” and casually appropriated the chair arm Christine had abandoned. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit here,” he said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Libby said, ignoring the way her heart thudded and her stomach twisted at his nearness. But she did mind because, for the minute, they
were virtually alone. The last thing she wanted was for him to have the opportunity to ask more questions.

Sure enough, he leaned closer saying, “Three months to go, hmm? Why are they throwing you the shower so soon?”

“Christine thought it would be a good idea. That way, after I see what gifts I’m given, I’ll know what I still need and can get prepared well ahead of time,” Libby said quickly.

“That’s a good answer,” he said, a false note of admiration in his voice. “But are you sure you’re not making a mistake about that date?”

Feigning surprise at the question, Libby forced herself to meet his gaze. “Of course I’m sure.”

“I see.” His eyes held a hard glint that made her pulse accelerate. “So you’re saying that a few weeks after beginning an affair with me, you jumped into bed with someone else?”

“I’m not saying anything at all,” Libby said, ignoring the way her heart pounded. Summoning up her courage, she added, “I really don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Temper flared in his blue eyes again.
“Isn’t
it?”

“Susan isn’t cutting the cake yet. She told Mother she wants to wait,” Dorrie Jean announced from behind them.

Libby jumped, but when she glanced up, Dome showed no sign of having overheard anything. She probably hadn’t, Libby decided, breathing a sigh of relief. Del had kept his voice low, and the sounds of the women chattering nearby had most likely drowned him out. She turned away from him, seizing the distraction
offered by Mrs. Peyton’s return as the older woman sat next to Dome.

She could feel Del staring at her averted profile while he sat silently beside her—trying to unnerve her, no doubt. She gritted her teeth. Well, it wouldn’t work. He might suspect she wasn’t telling the truth but unless she admitted it, there was no way he could know for sure. She carefully avoided looking at him, listening with pretended absorption as Mrs. Peyton instructed everyone within hearing distance on the correct way to make a double-fudge cake.

“Three eggs are much better than two.”

More wasn’t always better. Two could even be too much if one of the persons was domineering and unpredictable, here today and gone tomorrow—like Del.

“If you beat it too much, the cake won’t rise.”

Her color rose under his narrow-eyed stare. Her senses felt overly heightened; she was aware of every breath Del took, every time he shifted the least little bit. He stretched out his legs and her glance fell on his big work boots—worn and scuffed at the toes. She’d never seen those boots before. She bit back a hysterical laugh. Suddenly, it seemed very funny to think she knew what his bare feet looked like but she’d never seen his shoes.

“The oven has to be set at precisely three hundred and fifty degrees. No hotter.”

Goodness, it was hot. Libby fanned herself with her hand. Del was sitting on the chair arm, with his arm slung along the back. She could feel the heat emanating from his virile body. He shifted a little closer and her nose twitched. She caught the familiar scent of fresh air, soap and Del. An unexpected ache bloomed
in her chest. For days after he’d left, she’d breathed in his scent as it lingered on her pillows, feeling lonelier than she’d ever felt in her life.

“And there you have it! Perfect every time!”

It
had
been perfect—the first time they’d made love and even the second. Impossibly perfect. What a fool she’d been. How could she have gone to bed with a man she’d known only three days? Smiling and nodding as Mrs. Peyton finished her recital on a triumphant note, Libby rested her hand comfortingly on her abdomen. Still, at least now she’d never be lonely. She had her baby, good friends and a place she belonged. She didn’t need anything else. Del had taken himself out of her life, and there he would stay.

She fought to ignore him, turning to laugh and joke with Christine as she came around to distribute small notepads and pencils for the first game. When Christine moved on, Libby immediately joined in with everyone else listing baby items to match the letters in the alphabet, trying to hide the fact that her fingers trembled around her pencil.

She breathed a sigh of relief as the game ended without incident. Maybe Del had gotten the message; maybe he was relieved to know she wasn’t going to involve him with the baby. At any rate, if he was going to make a scene, surely he would have done so already. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyea task made infinitely easier by the fact that Susan had strolled up to claim his attention. No doubt about it, his presence definitely livened up the party. Whenever the single women spoke to him, their voices lowered in unconscious invitation while even the married women’s gazes rested on him more than they should.
Mrs. Peyton, glaring at Susan, kept pushing Dorrie Jean so close to him that at one point the poor girl almost fell in his lap. But despite all the attention and Libby’s silent urging, Del never moved from her side.

“Don’t you think we should have cake now?” Mrs. Peyton asked finally, apparently disgruntled at Dorrie Jean’s lack of progress. With a small smile at Del, Susan took the hint and left to dispense the refreshments.

Mrs. Peyton finished hers off in record time, then watched disapprovingly as Libby pushed the thick pink icing off her piece before taking a few small bites. “Don’t tell me you’re dieting, Elizabeth,” she said disapprovingly. “Why, when a woman is carrying a child, it’s no time to worry about vanity.”

Libby felt Del glance sharply down at her. Her hand shook. Icing fell from her plate, landing on the curve of her breast. Aware her cheeks were reddening again, she dabbed at the pink blob on the denim with her napkin, saying, “I’m not dieting, Mrs. Peyton.”