TWENTY-ONE

SITTING AT HER DINING TABLE in one of four ice-cream parlor chairs, Harley hugged her knees to her chest. The hem of her fuzzy nightgown trailed over the sherbet yellow seat cushion. The toes of her fuzzy slippers peeked from under the edge of her raspberry pink chenille robe.

And her stomach sizzled with a fuzzy feeling that had nothing to do with pregnancy and everything to do with Gardner being in her soda-fountain kitchen.

She hadn’t wanted him to find out this way. She’d planned to tell him, of course. Eventually. Once she got used to the concept of motherhood. And the idea—no, the reality of having a baby. Once she figured out the best time, the best place, the best words.

Upchucking on his boots had saved her the hassle.

He hadn’t let her out of his sight for a minute since, even sending Mona to his rental car for his bags. A little disconcerting, Harley had decided, being checked on while she bathed. But as Gardner had told her, it was a little late in the game for modesty.

And way past time for truth.

When he set a bowl of Cream of Wheat on the table, Harley tentatively inhaled. After a week of nothing but noxious odors, she was afraid to breathe without a painter’s mask over her nose. The gruel, believe it or not, smelled wonderful.

Pulling the bowl closer, she thought she might actually have a few vomit-free hours ahead. A good thing since she wanted to enjoy Gardner’s visit. And especially since they had so much to discuss.

He’d hardly uttered a meaningful word since she’d christened his boots and she wondered what he was thinking… if he’d changed his mind about wanting children, if he’d changed his mind about wanting her. Or about love.

The sleeves of his dress shirt cuffed up, Gardner draped a dish towel over the back of a second chair. He gripped the curved railing with both hands and nodded toward the bowl. “I wasn’t sure what to add. Or what you could stomach.”

She didn’t want to risk the combined aroma of maple syrup and butter any more than she wanted to risk making a wrong move until she and Gardner had talked. “Brown sugar will be fine.”

Rummaging through her pantry, Gardner picked up the box of sugar, then a canister of tea bags. He shook the small oval tin. “How ‘bout some hot tea?”

“Sounds great.”

He handed her the sugar then set about brewing tea. Harley sprinkled a drifting of sugar over the cereal and watched Gardner move. Jealously, she admired the way his jeans made themselves at home on his lower body. And she remembered too well the way his thighs and backside had drawn taut in her palms.

He reached into the cupboard for a mug. His crisp oxford-cloth shirt reached with him, defining tendons and muscles and a lean, natural strength. When he moved, his walk was loose; when he paused, his stance was suggestive.

And always, always, his masculine sensuality was effortless. His body was a blueprint for every woman’s fantasy, and Harley’s stomach tumbled.

When he placed the steaming mug on the table, she still hadn’t touched her cereal. Her hands were shaking too badly to do so. Blaming her nerves on her sickness, she fluttered her fingers in an encompassing gesture. “Is this some of the TLC you were talking about?”

Gardner spun and straddled the chair beside her then reached for her spoon. Stirring the melted sugar into the cereal, he said, “Not bad for a guy who’s never been in your kitchen before.”

Harley propped her elbow on the table, her chin on her palm, though all she really wanted to do was touch his hair, his face, the curl of his ear. “At least you’re not the kind of guy who doesn’t think he belongs in a kitchen at all.”

“That’s Jud’s doing. He’s a stickler for dividing up chores.” Scooping up a spoonful of cereal, he scraped the back over the edge of the bowl. “You feel like eatin’ now?”

She nodded and he lifted the spoon. Meeting his gaze, she opened her mouth, remembering the way he tasted, the way he kissed.

“What was the stuff the doctor sent you?”

Licking her lips, Harley swallowed. “An over-the-counter medicine to settle the nausea. But even though he’s assured me it’s safe, I don’t want to take it too often.”

“You’ve suffered like this for a month without taking anything?”

“The first three weeks weren’t bad at all. But this last one’s been rough. I tried the soda crackers routine and every other home remedy imaginable. The doctor told me to try this medicine. I don’t know which is worse. The taste of the medicine or throwing up.” Harley squeezed her knees tighter and grimaced. “And just think. Only ten or so weeks to go.”

“How are you going to manage between now and then?”

“I’m pregnant, Gardner, not disabled. And I’ve got Mona to take up the slack.”

His brows a slash of concentration, Gardner tapped the spoon on the lip of the bowl. “I’m not crazy about you working when you’re this sick.”

Harley rested her fingertips on the back of his hand; tiny tufts of hair tickled her skin. Please, God, let me do this right. “I’m going to take care of the baby, Gardner. Don’t worry.”

He tap-tap-tapped the spoon on the bowl, finally shoving it into the cereal before raking an angry hand over his hair. “If I hadn’t shown up here today, the way I did, would you have told me about the baby?”

“Of course I would have.” She squeezed his wrist; his pulse quickened. “How can you even ask such a thing?”

“You said you didn’t want kids.” His tone flat, emotionless, he looked her straight in the eye.

In a disembodied motion, Harley slowly withdrew her hand, searching for her voice—and an ounce of understanding. “You thought I’d get rid of this one? Behind your back? Don’t you know me better than that?”

He had the decency to look ashamed.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, not feeling the least bit smug. Only hugely disappointed. “Yes, I planned to tell you. But discussing this subject requires more energy than I’ve had lately.”

“So you decided you would wait to tell me. Even if it took another, what was the figure”—he inquired sarcastically—“ten weeks?”

She refused to jump to the bait. “Yes, Gardner. Even if it took that long. This baby’s not going anywhere. And neither are you or I.”

Gardner shoved the bowl away, nearly toppling the cereal in the center of the table. “What now?”

Harley tugged her robe down over her toes. This conversation was not going any of the ways she’d imagined it might. “My immediate plans don’t include anything more involved than making it through one day at a time.”

One brow lifted tyrannically, Gardner cast her a sideways glance. “You’re not planning any more buying trips.”

“No, not for a while.”

“That wasn’t a question.” One corner of his mouth quirked up a bit.

Harley marginally relaxed. “Well, then, since you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you, anyway. Mona is more than capable of handling the store. I know what our Christmas buyers want and have already stocked up. Now it’s just a matter of sitting back and letting the merchandise sell itself.”

“And you can do that from up here, in your bed?”

“Only on the days I absolutely can’t sit at my desk,” she offered with a soothing smile. “But once this twenty-four-hour-a-day morning sickness passes, I plan to work as long as I can.”

“What about after that? What happens after the baby is born?”

Finally. The question she’d been waiting for. No, the question she’d been dreading and one she couldn’t answer. How could she tell him what she planned to do once the baby was born when so much of her decision depended on him?

She pulled the cereal bowl toward her and took a bite, postponing the inevitable. Sipping her tea then cradling the mug to her chest, she sat back in her chair. “Tell me about Tyler and Jud. What’s been going on on the ranch?”

“Tyler’s fine. Jud’s fine. The ranch is fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that we left a lot unsettled a month ago because we both needed time.” He looked up. Emotion darkened his eyes. “Time’s run out.”

“No, Gardner. Time has just begun. You’ve only had three or four hours to deal with this. We can talk about it once you’ve thought it through. And once I’m feeling better. While you’re here, I want to enjoy the time we have.” She reached out and laid one hand along his jaw. “Please, please don’t press me about this.”

He gave in then, grudgingly, but she could see it in his eyes. She’d bought herself some time, nothing more.

“Now, unless you’re really in the mood for your own bowl of Cream of Wheat, why don’t you go get something to eat? If you tell me what you’re in the mood for, I can tell you where to go.”

He looked uncertain, so she added, “I’ll be fine. And we can talk when you get back.”

“I’ll go get a burger at the drive-through down the street.” Gardner got to his feet. “Do you need anything while I’m out?”

“No, I’m fine. I think I’ll curl up in bed and read for a while.” She nodded toward her cereal bowl. “You know, give that gourmet meal a chance to settle.”

“Where do you keep your extra pillows and blankets?”

“Why?”

Awkwardly, he inclined his head toward her living room. “If you’re asleep when I get back, I’ll sack out on the couch.”

“No.” This she knew for a fact. “I want you to sleep with me. I promise not to repeat my earlier performance.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he murmured, carrying her dishes to the sink.

“You think sleeping in the same bed with my sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes might keep you awake?” she asked, injecting what humor she could into the grim moment.

He gave her an indignant glare. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“Gardner, the baby’s hardly big enough to be hurt. Please,” she begged, then shamelessly added, “I could use some cuddling Maybe a little more TLC.”

After he’d cleaned up the kitchen, he finally agreed, leaving Harley in bed, snuggled back against a mountain of pillows, quilt tucked to her chin, paperback romance in hand.

But once he was gone, the door secure behind him, the room quiet and still, the printed words blurred together, until Harley had to blink to clear her vision.

Even then, she saw only Gardner’s face, the unfathomable expression in his eyes. Confusion. Indecision. And the one thing she hadn’t seen. The very thing she’d expected. Joy.

She told herself he needed time, that her revelation had come as a shock. Neither argument settled the butterflies in her stomach.

From day one, Gardner had talked about children. His legacy. His heritage. He’d spoken in terms of the future, his words flavored with passion and the essence of love.

Love. An emotion he verbally denied yet gave of so freely. An emotion she verbally demanded but had yet to declare in return. It was time she set things straight.

Eyes closed, she allowed her mind to drift, waiting for Gardner to return, imagining him in bed beside her, picturing his body loving hers. Slipping from the bed, she lit the half-dozen beeswax candles hanging in sconces on the walls and a second dozen scattered around her dressing table.

She flicked off the lamp and crawled back in bed, naked. Waiting. Wanting.

When Gardner slid under the covers beside her later, she forced herself to relax, to take things slow. To ease into a discussion of their future, to turn the conversation to love.

He never gave her the chance. He pulled her bare back against his bare front, cupped one breast and laid a hand on her belly.

“A baby,” he whispered, his fingertips rubbing low, lazy circles beneath her navel. “God, I’ve waited so long for this.”

Harley shut her eyes on silent tears and willed the sensations building low and center beneath Gardner’s hand to slow. Right now, his words took precedence over his touch, no matter the way she ached.

He blew a soft sigh against her ear. “When Tyler was born, I resented him for a long time. Not because he stole my parents’ attention. Hell, I hadn’t had that for years. But I didn’t want a baby, I wanted a brother. For me.”

He tensed; his hand stopped and Harley held her breath.

“By the time he was old enough to play with, though, I’d changed my mind.”

“You didn’t want a brother?” she asked.

“No. I wished he had never been born.”

Harley’s eyes flew open. “Gardner!”

“Face it, Harley. Some people should never have children. My parents, for example. Half of the time I don’t think they remembered Tyler and I existed.” His voice darkened. “He deserved better.”

“So did you,” Harley whispered, aching for those two small boys.

“Yeah, well.” He shifted against her. “I couldn’t think about that. It was bad enough watching the way they treated Tyler. The first time it happened he wasn’t very old. His crying woke me up. He must’ve been going at it awhile because he was hysterical. When I went into his room he was on his knees in his crib. His head was stuck between two slats. He’d knocked his bottle out on the floor.”

Gardner’s body stiffened; the muscles in his legs bunched against the backs of her thighs. Harley settled into the curve of his body, pulling him around her, telling him she was there.

He hugged her as though he’d die if he didn’t. “My parents were so busy grunting and banging, they didn’t even hear Tyler cry. Hell, he was just a baby. A baby, for God’s sake. After that, I made sure he was taken care of.”

He splayed his fingers over her stomach, then lower, seeking the heat between her thighs. “You can be damned sure I’ll take care of this one, too.”

And you’ll give your child all the love you have stored up inside, Harley thought. All the love you’ve never been allowed to give.

She started to turn but he stopped her with the press of his broad shoulder. She glanced back, and he took her mouth, his kiss a devouring search before he buried his face in her neck.

His erection stirred against her bottom. He pulled his tongue from her mouth only long enough to ask, “You sure this is okay?”

Lying on her side, she nodded. Anticipation stole her breath. She was born for this man. And just as intuitively, she knew that he loved her. She could wait to hear the words. What she couldn’t wait for another moment was his body.

Holding the back of her thigh, Gardner lifted her leg, opening her with one finger, then two. He spread her wide, pulled back his hand and came home.

“Hold on,” he breathed against her neck and Harley felt his entry with her body and her soul. She wanted to cry with the pleasure.

He filled her, he fed her; their mutual hunger began with desire but deepened into the rare touch of souls. The intensity of his possession burned sharp and sweet. Her breathing came in jerky gasps and Gardner smiled against her skin.

“Good?” he asked through the tiny nips he was taking along her shoulder.

“Good,” she managed, her neck arched, her fingers digging into the arm he had wrapped around her middle.

He thrust again and Harley whimpered. When she came, she took him with her. And when he would have eased from her body, she refused.

He’d been alone and unloved too much of his life already.