Bachelor Mother (7 page)

Throwing the dress to the foot of the bed, she stormed into the adjoining bathroom.

If it were possible to boil a body, she did it. Every inch of her skin was meticulously washed, then smoothed with scented lotion. As she slipped into silk underwear, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror.

You’ve gained a little weight.
Nothing like anxiety to cause a person to head straight to the refrigerator and stick her head inside. The past month had been a seesaw of emotions – all centered around Bubba.

It’s a good thing all our dates were so energetic, otherwise he’d be going to bed with Moby Dick tonight.

She dressed quickly, then put on her heels. So what if she looked ridiculous. This was a big night. Maybe
the 
big night. Alicia had an astrologer friend who wanted to do a birth chart based on the time the baby was conceived. Mel didn’t know much about astrology but it was important to her friend, so she'd agreed.

As she studied herself in the full-length mirror, sudden panic assailed her.
What are you doing? A silk dress and heels for pizza with Bubba?
  Tearing off her clothing, she reached for a pair of jeans and another of her hand-knit sweaters, this time pink cotton. She applied her makeup quickly, then grabbed her leather shoulder bag and raced down the stairs.

Keep moving before you have time to think.

* * *

Bubba stood looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Too casual. This is a big night for Mel.
Jeans and a sweater just didn’t cut it.

He strode into his bedroom and began rummaging through his closet. If he’d had his way it would've been a pair of cutoffs but he couldn’t have Mel thinking this was anything but a serious matter to him, too. So he’d put on a decent pair of jeans and a sweater.

You still look like you’re on vacation.

He grimaced.

You might as well wear that hideous Hawaiian shirt Mom brought you back from Maui. Then at least Mel would laugh when she looked at you – break the ice.

He knew she was scared – hell, upset – about tonight. The funny thing was, he’d thought he’d be able to pull this evening off with a minimum of fuss.

Boy, did you guess wrong.

He glanced at the bedside clock – twenty minutes until zero hour.

Completely unnerved, he began to rummage through his closet again.

* * *

She had to wipe her damp palms against her jeans before she rang the bell. Mel could hear Bubba inside, walking swiftly toward the door. She bit her lip, controlled a purely impulsive instinct to turn and run, and suddenly the door was open.

She stared. Bubba was wearing a suit. A beautiful suit, dark gray and expensively cut. He smelled delicious – some sort of citrusy cologne – and his hair was damp and curly, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower.

He stared at her and she noticed the corners of his eyes starting to crinkle. Then a smile twitched one side of his mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I tell you I just got home from the office?” he asked, motioning for her to come inside.

“I know what you wear to work.” Seeing him, she felt that everything was all right again. Just for an instant. At least she had a little time before they had to get down to business.

“My mother asked me to lunch?” he said as they walked down the short hallway to his living room.

“Your mother is out of town.”

“I just bought this the other day and I wanted your opinion of it?”

“I’ve seen that suit before.”

He sat down on the couch closest to the fireplace and motioned for her to do the same. “I can’t fool you, Mel. I have the fashion sense of a toad.”

“That’s okay. I only tried on fifteen different outfits this morning.”

They stared at each other for a minute. Then Mel looked away.

“Why are we acting this way, Bubba? I knew this would ruin our friendship. Why don’t we just – ”

“Nope. You only have a few months left and sometimes these things take time. I’m sacrificing myself for a higher cause. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.”

He was trying to relax her with humor. It worked. Laughter bubbled out of her and she leaned back and let the couch support her, feeing much less tense than when she’d rung his doorbell.

“I’m going to run upstairs and slip into something more comfortable. The pizza should be here any minute. There’s money in my wallet on the coffee table.”

Before she could reply, he’d left the room. She heard him taking the stairs two at a time and she smiled.

Oh, Bubba. What’s going to happen to us?

The doorbell pealed softly and Mel took Bubba’s wallet off the table and walked quickly toward the door. She paid the teenager, giving him a generous tip, and took the cardboard box into the kitchen. Taking down two plates, she opened the box and pulled out two pieces of the fragrant pie. Closing the pizza box in case Henry was on the prowl, she grabbed some napkins and carried the two plates into the living room.

Her back was to the door when Bubba entered.

“So how do you like the new me?” His voice was full of repressed laughter.

“Oh my God.” He was wearing his worst pair of cutoffs, faded, bleached almost white, with white strings trailing down his muscular legs. And his shirt – it was the most hideous Hawaiian shirt she’d ever seen, swirls of blazing magenta and brilliant tangerine. It gave her a headache to look at it.

“Where did you get that?”

He laughed and she watched as he unbuttoned it. Bubba only half wore most of his shirts. Though he was not overly macho, she knew he liked the feel of a bare chest.

“My mom. If I remember the story correctly, she walked into the store and asked the salesperson for the ugliest shirt in stock.”

“And that was it?”

“Do you have any doubts?”

She started to laugh. He was beside her in an instant, she felt his arms go around her in a quick hug.

“Relax, Mel. We’ve got all night ahead of us. Nothing’s going to happen if you don’t want it to.”

“Can you take a picture?” she asked.

“A picture?”

“For the moment when my son asks me where he inherited his exceptional sense of style.”

“Funny, Mel” He glanced at the coffee table. “The pizza smells good. Sit tight and I’ll get us some wine.”

“We shouldn’t drink tonight.”

“What am I thinking? Sorry, Mel.”

He returned with two champagne flutes filled with orange juice.

“Here’s to you, Mel.” Bubba picked up his glass as she did hers, and they touched glasses rim to rim.

“Here’s to our friendship.” She drank half the glass before she set it down. Then she picked up her slice of pizza and took a large bite. She forced herself to chew and swallow. It settled in her stomach like raw dough.

She set the slice down and reached for her champagne flute.

“Not hungry?” Bubba asked softly.

“Just nervous.”

“Try to eat a little more. It’s only seven-thirty. I promise not to start anything before nine.”

The smile she tried to give him was so weak her lips trembled. “I’m sorry, Bubba. I’m the one who came to you with this problem and I just don’t know if I can go through with it.”

He set his champagne flute down, the pizza obviously forgotten. “Mel, what can I do to make this easier for you?”

Her face was burning up. Her throat was so tight she was surprised she could squeak her voice past the constriction. “Remember when I said maybe we could just go upstairs and – ”

“Do it in the dark,” he finished for her.

She laughed. It wasn’t her usual laugh, full-bodied and rich. More like a whimper.

“Bubba,” she whispered, “I wish I were more sophisticated. I wish everything wasn’t such a big deal, that I could just
do
  things and not think them to death.”

“You wouldn’t be the Mel I know and love,” he said lightly. Taking her hand, he began to stroke the inside of her wrist lightly with his thumb. “You’re not going to eat anything if you’re this nervous. Why don’t we just go upstairs and see how it goes?”

“Now?” Her cheeks were catching fire again. Why did she have to be so dumb about this?

He cupped her face in his hands. His fingers felt cool against her flushed face. “Mel, nothing that happens upstairs is going to make me think less of you. I don’t think you’re making a big deal about this. I think you’re a woman who doesn’t attempt something this important lightly.”

She could only stare at him. There was the gentlest, most tender expression on his face.

“I want this to be a good experience for you. Not even the sexual part as much as the emotional part. I’m touched that you asked me and I want to help you.”

She blinked once, twice. Her eyes were stinging.

“Tell me what you want, Mel. Anything.” He stroked her cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs, then dropped his hands from her face.

She wasn’t giving him back enough. She couldn’t let him make all the effort.

“I want to go upstairs. I want to put an end to it, get it over with.”

“Okay.” He stood up. “Why don’t you go up first. You know where the bathroom is. I’ll be up in five minutes.”

She swallowed. Nodded. Picked up her bag.

He kissed her forehead and released her. She could feel his eyes on her as she started up the stairs.

* * *

Give her time.

Bubba carried their plates and the champagne flutes into the kitchen. Henry was up on the counter, his chubby white paws suspiciously close to the pizza carton.

“No, you don’t, sport.” The minute Bubba walked into the kitchen the cat looked up at him with an expression of complete feline guilt in his yellow eyes. He jumped off the counter with a thud and trotted over to his food bowl, meowing plaintively.

“This is your lucky day,” Bubba told him as he tore off a small piece of pizza and put it into the pie pan he used as Henry’s dish. The cat attacked the pizza at once. Henry loved mozzarella cheese. Though Bubba didn't often give Henry human food, tonight was an exception. He wanted the furry fiend occupied.

Bubba put the slices of pizza back in the box, placed the empty dishes in the sink and slid the pizza box into the refrigerator as he glanced at Henry. No use tempting fate. As he quickly washed and dried the champagne flutes, he thought about Melanie and their evening ahead.

It didn’t take someone with blinding sensitivity to figure out that Mel didn’t have a great deal of sexual experience. He knew Donnie had been worse than a Spanish duenna when Mel started dating in high school. When she went away to college, he hadn’t been able to grill her boyfriends or intimidate them. Still, there was something reserved, untouched, about Mel. It was in the way she carried herself, the expression he sometimes caught in her eyes.

She hasn’t been touched by passion yet.
Would it be cruel of him to try and give her that knowledge? He couldn’t simply make love to her as if she were a board in his bed. In the past month he’d come to see her as a woman – vulnerable, vital, attractive. On a purely physical level, she had great legs. And her hair – he’d lain in bed nights and dreamed of running his hands through it, tugging it gently as he brought her mouth closer to his.

The sound of Henry crunching the crisp crust brought him out of his erotic thoughts. It had been easier than he’d thought, seeing Mel in a sensual light. She was striking in a natural way, completely without artifice. He’d ached for her when she’d been so embarrassed, so vulnerable, on his couch. Now he knew she was waiting for him upstairs. And even though she trusted him, she was still scared.

She was putting so much trust in his hands. Bubba had never had any difficulty with the opposite sex. He’d always liked women, enjoyed being with them.

But this was Mel.

He glanced at the clock. Five minutes were almost up.

He started toward his bedroom.

* * *

What to do? Did he expect her to whip off her clothes and climb beneath the sheets? Or did he want to undress her? Melanie had climbed the stairs rapidly and retreated into Bubba's bathroom. She’d brushed her teeth quickly then left the bathroom light on and the door leading to the bedroom open just a crack. She’d taken off her sandals and placed them by her bag near one side of the king-sized bed.

Now what?
  She lay down on the bed. She sat up. The bedspread smelled fresh, as if Bubba had just laundered it. His bedroom was the neatest she’d ever seen it. It touched her that he’d gone to all this trouble for her.

She swung her legs off the bed so she was sitting facing the bathroom door. If only she weren’t so tense. If only Phillip hadn’t made her feel so inadequate each time he’d tried to make love to her.

He’d rushed her. Perhaps if he hadn’t pushed so hard, been so single-minded in his pursuit, she’d have wanted to know him intimately. He’d teased her about being an ice princess and she’d merely smiled and lowered her eyes. Yet it had hurt. She’d known he was only trying to make her prove her love for him in the most basic way but she hadn’t felt ready for intimacy with him. Perhaps, subconsciously, she’d sensed he’d never really cared.

When they finally had made love, it hadn’t been very good.

It worried her. Was there something wrong with her? Previous experiences had been just that – experiences, nothing earthshaking. She’d enjoyed the cuddling and hugging, but not the actual physical process. There were times, when, alone in her bed and unable to sleep, she’d wished for a grand passion, a man who would sweep her off her feet and make her come alive, make her feel
something
. But it hadn’t happened. Maybe that was why she’d never been in a hurry to rush into a physical relationship.

She wanted warmth and trust. The men she’d dated wanted physical release. In her heart of hearts, Melanie had always thought of creating children with love, with the sort of passion that existed between two people who cared deeply for each other.

Better with a best friend than some stranger. 
Bubba was right about that. She’d given a lot of thought to what he was giving up in doing this for her. He would see his child. She had every intention of making sure he had visitation rights if he wanted them but the baby wouldn’t really be his. What would it be like, to have children but not be involved with them?