Baby On The Way (3 page)

“Good. Heaven knows, you’re a skinny little thing. Hard enough going through this all alone, without getting sick, too.”

“I’m not sick.”

Mrs. Peyton ignored the comment. “So what are you going to have? A boy or a girl?”

“A boy, I think.”

“You think?” Mrs. Peyton frowned. “Don’t you know? I thought you were going to have a—what are those things called, Dorrie Jean? An ultrasound? You said the doctor had arranged for you to have one last week.”

Aware of Del’s intent interest, Libby said hastily,
“No, we decided I didn’t need it. Wouldn’t you like another piece of cake, Mrs. Peyton?”

The older woman looked tempted, but resolutely refused the bait. “Thank you, but no. That pink icing gives me gas.”

“Mother!” Dorrie whispered in an agonized voice.

Mrs. Peyton faced her daughter. “Now, Dorrie Jean, there’s nothing wrong with a little plain speaking.” She turned back to frown at Libby’s stomach, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not so sure it’s a boy. You’re not very big. Looks like a girl to me.”

“I agree,” Del drawled. He slanted a smile at Mrs. Peyton, who beamed back.

Libby shot him an angry glance. “Well, I think it’s a boy.”

“So do I,” Christine agreed as she walked up. “It’s a well-known fact that if you’re carrying out front like Libby, then the baby is a boy.”

“But she’s shaped like a basketball—which means a girl,” Mrs. Peyton argued stubbornly. “Boys are football shaped.”

“But she’s carrying low,” Christine stated. “It has to be a boy.”

Before Mrs. Peyton could counter again, Dorrie interposed quietly, “What are you going to name him, Libby?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Aren’t you going to name the baby after the father?” Del asked, lifting his eyebrows in assumed surprise.

Libby stiffened. “No.”

“Why not?” Del deftly dodged his sister’s elbow, without removing his gaze from Libby’s.

Because I don’t know his father’s name—only his nickname,
Libby was tempted to reply. The father didn’t stay around long enough to tell me his
real
first name.

She gave him a futile glare, relieved when Christine inadvertently interrupted the silent stare down. “Come on, guys. There’s one more game,” Chris said. She swept up a ball of yarn and attracted the crowd’s attention, instructing, “Everyone cut off a piece of string. The one who comes closest to the size of Libby’s waistline wins.”

Libby wrenched her gaze from Del’s. A lump had formed in her throat and she swallowed past the ache, smiling as Brooke came up to try her luck.
He doesn’t know,
Libby reminded herself forcefully, lifting her arms and sitting forward as Brooke encircled her waist. He
can’t
know for sure.

Her tension increased, however, tightening her muscles. She felt like a wooden doll as the women took turns measuring their yarn lengths around her, and she stiffened even more when Del suddenly said, “Give me a piece. I think I can win this one.”

“You?” Christine hooted. “That dress you bought me last Christmas was so big, I could have fit in it twice. You’re the worst judge of a woman’s size I’ve ever seen.”

The rest of the women joined in, teasing Del as he demanded the yarn from Christine and made a production of eyeing Libby. Despite all the laughter, the glint in his eye caused her heart to beat faster again and her stomach to churn. Finally, Del lopped off a piece the women all declared was much too small.

“It’s apparent you don’t know her very well,” Mrs. Peyton chortled.

“Let’s see,” he replied.

He knelt by Libby’s side and her breath caught. He was so near she could see the small dark specks in his deep blue eyes as his arms moved slowly around her. She held her breath. His hands brushed along her sides to her back and around to the front again. Both his palms pressed firmly against the hard, warm mound of her stomach as he pulled the yarn taut.

“Look at that,” Christine said in surprise. “The yarn is exactly right”

Inside Libby’s womb, the baby gave a lazy turn. Del’s eyes widened in surprise, his pupils expanding until only a thin circle of blue remained. Then his expression altered.

His gaze locked with hers. Libby’s stomach lurched at the hard certainty on his face.
^{He knows,}
she finally admitted to herself.
^{He knows}
the
^{baby is his.}

As if from a distance, she heard Mrs. Peyton’s disappointed voice. “Darn it, I was close but it looks like Del wins the prize.”

Libby clapped her hand over her mouth. Oh, good Lord. She was going to be sick.

P
anicked, she pushed Del out of the way.
Oh, please, don’t let me be sick here!
she prayed silently as she struggled to lever herself up from the chair.
Not on Susan’s new blue Berber carpet. Not in the middle of my shower. Most of all, not in front of Del Delaney!

A strong tanned hand suddenly caught hers, pulling her to her feet.

With a muffled, “Thank you,” she skirted around Del’s big body and hurried to Susan’s bathroom.

Del was standing by the door when she finally came out—the same way he’d been waiting outside the bathroom at home the first time she’d met him. A rare blizzard had struck the state, resulting in a not-so-rare blackout as sleet coated the electrical lines causing a power failure. Before leaving on a buying trip, Christine had forewarned Libby about the problem and Libby had been prepared, arming herself with a flashlight before going in for her bath. When she’d emerged half an hour later, clad only in a man’s shirt with the flashlight in hand, her heart had jumped at the unexpected sight of the big, masculine frame caught in the wavering beam.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Del—
Christine’s brother,” he’d said immediately, and her panic had subsided.

She wasn’t startled to see him this time—there was no blackout and Susan’s hallway was brightly lit—but her heart leapt in an oddly similar way as he straightened from where he’d been leaning against the jamb.

“Were you ill?” he asked.

She shook her head wearily. “No. I just needed to splash some cold water on my face.”

Del eyed her critically. She still looked upset, and her hair was kind of sticking up on one side, but he decided she looked immeasurably better than she had before. He’d noticed immediately upon entering Susan’s house how much more fragile Libby looked now. Faint shadows lingered beneath her soft brown eyes and, despite the hectic spots of color in her cheeks, she looked paler. She was thinner, too—his eyes swept lower—except, of course, for the added fullness to her small breasts and the surprising round ball of her belly.

His eyes lingered on that intriguing roundness and he had the urge to touch her again, to run his hands over her and explore her new fullness for himself. He straightened, impatient to get her alone.

“Well, then, let’s go,” he said, taking a step toward her. “Smile and say goodbye to everyone, but don’t stop to talk or we won’t get out of here for another two hours.”

Not giving her a chance to protest, he took her arm, towing her behind him into the living room. The women immediately flocked their way, but Del refused to release his grip on Libby as sympathetic murmurings rose around them.

“You poor thing,” Susan exclaimed.

Mrs. Peyton declared darkly, “Morning sickness—especially in the evening—is the pits.”

“Are you all right, Libby?” Christine asked, her expression concerned.

Libby smiled wanly at her and the other women. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“You aren’t leaving, are you?” Anabel said as Del led Libby to the door. “You haven’t opened your presents yet.”

Before Libby could answer, Del said firmly, “She’s exhausted and wants to go home and rest. I’ve said I’ll drive her.”

He glanced at his sister, reading the surprise in her eyes. To forestall her from accompanying them or offering to take Libby herself, he added pointedly, “I knew you’d want to help Susan clean up and gather Libby’s gifts together, Chris.”

Christine said politely, if unenthusiastically, “Of course I’ll help Susan…” She glanced back at Libby.

“But are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Del’s grip on Libby’s arm tightened fractionally, and she shook her head. “I’ll be fine, but thank you—thank you all. This shower was such a wonderful surprise.”

“Oh, pshaw,” said Mrs. Peyton. “You just get on out of here and lie down. You’re sleeping for two now, you know.”

Amid the laughter and final farewells, Del slung his jacket around Libby’s shoulders and hustled her out the door. The light mist was still falling, slickening the walkway from Susan’s house, but although he kept
a firm grip on Libby’s arm to insure she didn’t fall, Del didn’t slacken his pace until they reached the sidewalk.

There, however, beneath the shelter of a huge, old oak growing in the parkway, he paused and turned her to face him, thankful to be away from the other women and finally alone with Libby.

The rain had dampened her brown hair to a dark chestnut. When he’d first met her, her hair had curved gently along her jaw. Now, it fell to her shoulders in a silky brown curtain, half hiding her face as she glanced away from him. Feathery strands clung to her pale cheeks and tiny diamond drops misted her dark lashes. He gently touched her cheek and she glanced up at him. Her soft brown eyes held a wary expression and he did what he’d longed to do from the first moment of seeing her huddled in that chair. Reaching out he put his hand firmly on her belly again. “It’s mine,” he said. “This is my baby.”

His tone brooked no argument and he could see, once again, the helpless acknowledgment of his claim in her soft brown eyes. Then her mouth firmed and she stepped away. “This baby is none of your business.”

Something inside him flared in angry denial at her words. His jaw set. “When we made love, everything about you became my business.”

“Why? Because I’m pregnant?” She held his gaze steadily. “You made love with other women and moved on. What makes me so special?”

He didn’t know, but she was. The rain continued to fall, dampening his shirt and glistening on her cheeks as he tried to decide how to explain. The memory of
the night they’d spent together had been with him daily, coiling his gut with sweet, hot desire. He’d never been bothered by such a distraction before and it had irritated him to be robbed of the complete absorption in his work that he’d always taken for granted.

So he’d fought to regain it, plunging into that problem in Saudi, moving on immediately to handle a communication breakdown in Seoul, refusing to call her until he had this disturbing craving under control. But she’d stayed in his mind until finally he’d focused on finishing up as quickly as possible, grimly determined to get back to see her, to settle his unruly emotions. Only to discover his desire for her burned hotter than ever.

Staring down into her face, a feeling of possessiveness swept over him—too strong to be denied, yet too new to be explainable. He abandoned the attempt for the moment, replying instead to the unspoken accusation in her voice. “There haven’t been that many women in the past—and the few there were didn’t want commitment any more than I did.”

“Good for you. Neither do L”

Before he could stop her, she stalked away. Her shoulders were tensed in outrage, her hands fisted at her sides. The slight waddle in her hips made her look like an indignant duck.

He caught up with her at his truck, and she climbed in huffily. Slamming the door behind her, he strode to the other side and turned on the ignition. He didn’t try to talk as he drove the narrow, winding road through town, deciding to wait until they got home before continuing the conversation, but he glanced over now and
again to where she sat stiffly beside him, staring out the window at the old houses flowing past. His gaze traced the white curve of her cheek, the somber set of her soft mouth.

As if sensing his stare, she looked at him fleetingly, her lips tightening before she turned away. Her light, sweet scent—so hauntingly familiar—drifted his way. Del stared straight ahead again, his hands tightening on the wheel as desire gripped him. He had the urge to park the truck and haul Libby into his arms, to kiss her like he’d thought of kissing her all the time he’d been gone. He’d do it, too, if she hadn’t been so angry. Why was she so reluctant to admit the baby was his? Maybe she was worried, wondering how he’d react. It must have been hard on her all these months, handling everything alone.

He frowned at the thought. Surely she knew that now that he was here, he’d take care of everything?

Dusk was falling, lengthening the shadows from the huge trees growing densely in the neighborhood, as he pulled up before the house. The gentle rain continued to drizzle down as, still without speaking, they left the truck to climb the brick walkway to the door and entered the foyer.

When Libby immediately headed toward the stairs, however, he put out a hand to stop her. “We still need to talk about this, Libby.” He steered her into what had once been the parlor but was now a den. Inside the room, Libby immediately picked up a blue bundle from an oak side table and sat down calmly on one of the old leather wingback chairs by the fireplace.

Del watched her, momentarily distracted by the blue
snarl of yarn she industriously began poking knitting needles into. “What’s that?” he asked curiously.

“Booties.”

“I didn’t know you could knit,” he said in surprise.

“There’s a lot,” she said repressively, “that you don’t know about me.”

Del’s jaw tightened. Hardly an auspicious start to the conversation, he thought. She didn’t look up, the silver needles clicking in uneven but determined rhythm. He could feel his temper rising and fought to hold it down. “There’s one thing I
do
know,” he said, his tone harsher than he’d intended. “That’s my baby you’re carrying.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Despite his resolve not to get angry, his voice roughened as he said, “Of course I’m sure. You’re not the type of woman to jump directly from my bed into another man’s. Hell, even if you were, there’s no way you’d get away with it in Lone Oak, not with Christine in the house and our nosy neighbor living next door.”

“No one saw
you,”
she reminded him.

“That was sheer luck. How often is the town shut down by a blizzard? Probably once every fifty years. If I hadn’t arrived so late at night like I did, and left so early the day the snow finally stopped,
someone
would have seen me. I’m just surprised Mrs. Peyton wasn’t waiting at the window with binoculars when we shoveled out the truck.”

“She did notice the driveway had been cleared,” Libby admitted. “I told her I’d done it alone.”

“Exactly my point,” Del said triumphantly. “Nothing gets by that lady.”

Concentrating on a snag in the blue yarn, Libby said
slowly, “Okay, so maybe there hasn’t been anyone since you left. But who’s to say I wasn’t with another man before I came to Lone Oak—before I met you?”

“You weren’t.”

The wariness in her expression deepened. “How do you know?”

He stared at her in exasperation. “I know because if you’d made love with someone before you came to Lone Oak, then you wouldn’t have been a virgin when you made love with
^me.”

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You noticed that.”

“Of course I noticed that! Do you think I’m an idiot?” She opened her mouth to reply and he pointed a warning finger in her direction. “Don’t you
^dare
answer that.”

She shut her mouth again and bent back over her needles. Slightly mollified, he paused, studying her downcast face. A tinge of pink had crept up under her pale skin and she steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. She was embarrassed, he realized suddenly. She wasn’t used to sleeping with men——or talking about it, either. More of his anger melted. Taking a deep breath he said quietly, “Libby. you had to know I realized it was your first time.”

The flush deepened in her cheeks. “How should I? You never said anything.”

“Neither did you—and I hardly had a chance, did I? The phone rang before we were awake and I had to leave within the hour. But I told you I’d be back.that we’d talk then. Damn it, is that what this is all about?” His voice softened and he stepped forward, tugging her up into his arms. Ignoring the resistance in her stiff figure and the bulge of baby between
them, he put his arms around her. Pressing her face into his shirt, he murmured into her sweet-smelling hair, “I’m sorry. I should have called. I just got caught up in—”

He broke off, wondering how to explain, and she lifted her head. “More
important
things?” she said sweetly.

“More
urgent
things,” he corrected, pressing her face against him again. “I was trying to finish up as quickly as possible to get back so we could.”

“Take up where we left off?” she said in a muffled voice.

“Talk,” he said grimly. Taking her by the shoulders, he held her away, giving her a small shake. “Stop putting words in my mouth and admit this baby’s mine.”

She remained still in his grasp, searching his face. Then her lashes swept down, hiding her expression as she admitted reluctantly, “You’re the father.”

An intense wave of satisfaction washed over Del, catching him by surprise. He knew it! He
knew
she hadn’t slept with any other man. His hold on her tightened, and he said encouragingly, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She didn’t respond, and Del gave her another hug. Beneath his palms he could feel the delicate bones of her back. Her breasts were crushed softly against his chest, the harder press of her belly nudged his groin. She felt so slight, so vulnerable, in his hold. She’d been through so much without anyone to lean on. But that was all over now; she had nothing to worry about any longer. Possessive tenderness poured through him
and words he’d never intended to say sprang out of his mouth, “I’ll marry you.”

He clamped his lips shut. But after a brief moment of shock he found to his amazement the words felt right. Marriage—he’d never thought it would be a viable option with his type of job, but now. yeah, that was the answer to the problem. The easiest solution.

She wouldn’t be on his mind so much if he was married to her.

Libby hadn’t responded—overcome with gratitude, no doubt. Pleased that he’d solved everything so easily, he gave her another hug. “It shouldn’t be too bad,” he said, thinking aloud. “We can just go on in pretty much the same way we’ve started.” Warming to the idea, he added, “In fact, it might be kind of nice to have a wife to come home to in between jobs. I’ll tell everyone that I’m the father and—”