For a Baby

He caught her hand rather than the sandwich. “Your fingers are trembling.”

Couldn’t he just have let it pass without comment? But T.J. had never been one to let anything go. Throughout their school years he’d teased her mercilessly about her red hair and freckles. And she’d never made a secret about the fact that she despised him for it.

That didn’t stop them from sleeping together, though. No denying the sexual pull between them, much as she wanted to. Even now she felt it, despite the other, weightier, issue on her mind.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here.”

T.J. didn’t say anything. Somehow that made it even harder. She’d had a whole speech planned out. But in the end, she managed only two short sentences.

“I’m pregnant, T.J. Just thought you should know.”

Dear Reader,

Have you ever known someone who seemed like such a terrific person, but who never had anything go right for her? That’s what Heather Sweeney’s love life has been like—up until now.

If you’ve read a previous book of mine, Small-Town Girl, you already know the history….

Heather was jilted by her first love, Russell Matthew, and she’s never really gotten over that disappointment. Her subsequent marriage to a cop ended when he was shot in the line of duty. After all that, not even Heather’s best friend, Adrienne, could blame her for being cynical about her chances for a happy-ever-after marriage.

But in this book, Heather finally gets her chance. For true love, a husband, a baby…the whole package.

I am always happy to hear from readers. Please contact me through my Web site at www.cjcarmichael.com. Or send mail to the following address: #1754 - 246 Stewart Green S.W., Calgary, Alberta, Canada T3H 3C8.

Sincerely,

C.J. Carmichael

For a Baby

C.J. Carmichael

This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandma Dora,

who used to spin the most wonderful yarns.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER ONE

Mid-April

SHE’D MADE A MISTAKE COMING to the bar. This place wasn’t going to cheer her up. She didn’t even feel like drinking.

Heather Sweeney eyed the glass of vodka and orange juice in her hand and wondered how her life had come to this point. She was too young to feel washed up, but that was exactly how she felt. She was a thirty-five-year-old, widowed schoolteacher who loved children but would probably never have any of her own.

Not based on the current state of her love life. Or the state of her uterus, either, according to her doctor. She couldn’t claim to be surprised by the results of the ultrasound they’d discussed at her appointment yesterday afternoon. In her family women tended to develop uterine fibroids at an early age, which was why she’d ended up an only child even though both her parents—like her—adored children.

So far, the noncancerous growths in her uterus were small enough that she could probably carry a baby to term if she were to become pregnant soon. But there was precious little opportunity for that to happen. She hadn’t even gone on a date for about four months.

And while the small-town bar was almost full tonight, there wasn’t a potential husband in the lot. A few middle-aged women were crowded around the video gambling machines in the back, while a gang of young men—probably barely drinking age—played pool at the other end of the room. All the tables in between were full of the farmers and miners who lived in and around this town. Most had either a wife or a girlfriend with them. Several she recognized as parents of either current or past students.

Not a decent-looking, single guy to be found.

Heather tilted her glass, watched the liquid slide over the bobbing ice cubes. Why had she come here?

She’d had other options for her Saturday night. Her best friend, Adrienne Jenson, had invited her to watch a movie with her family tonight. But it was too soon after her depressing appointment with the doctor to see Adrienne’s three little boys—three!—laughing and playing and tumbling around.

She could have opted to spend the evening with her parents. But they usually played cards with the Thomsons on Saturday nights. Five was definitely a crowd when it came to bridge.

And so, because she couldn’t stand to spend the night alone at her house, because there was no place else open on a Saturday night in Chatsworth, Saskatchewan, she’d ended up here. At the town bar. Alone.

The door opened, and she swung around on her stool in time to see Libby and Gibson Browning stroll in holding hands. The couple looked ridiculously young to be the parents of four kids—two girls from previous relationships and two little boys of their own. Their girls, Allie and Nicole, would be in Heather’s class this year. The couple stopped to say hi to her before joining a table of their other friends.

I’m going to finish this drink, then head home, she promised herself. She lifted the glass to her mouth and took several long gulps. One more swallow would have done it. But she lingered just a few seconds too long. Trenton McGuire, the town lech and drunk, sauntered into the bar and headed her way.

The stool next to hers was empty, and of course that’s where Trenton sat. By smell alone she could tell that whatever he ordered would not be his first of the evening.

Trenton wasn’t a bad guy. When sober, he was quiet and shy, and he did manage to eke out a living on the half section of land his father had left him. But when he was drinking, he imagined himself quite a ladies’ man.

“Must be my lucky night. Sittin’ next to a pretty little redhead.”

Yeah, it was his lucky night, all right. Definitely not hers. She finished her drink. Set down the glass.

“Can I buy you another, miss?”

He touched her arm and she pulled away, averting her gaze. Thank heavens he didn’t seem to know her name. They’d never met, but you could never tell in a small town, who had heard of whom. “Actually, I was just leaving. Thanks for the offer, though.”

She glanced at him then and felt a stab of pity. Greasy hair, poor teeth, bad skin. The man was skinny and his fingernails were dirty. Good grooming was all it would take to make him presentable. Hadn’t his mother taught him anything?

“But the night is young.” He put his hand back on her arm, this time holding tight. “Jerry,” he signaled the bartender. “Bring her another, and a draft for me.”

Though the grip on her arm was unrelenting, Heather wasn’t afraid. She was in a public place, surrounded by neighbors who had known her for most of her life. “I’m sorry, but I really am tired.”

She attempted again to pull away, but Trenton only moved in closer. She smelled his foul breath and tried not to grimace.

“Come on, sweetheart.”

The door opened again, only this time Heather couldn’t turn to see who was coming or going. Trenton had her pinned tight, his body blocking most of her view.

“Trenton,” the bartender said, “I think the lady wants to go home. You’d better let go of her arm.”

Yeah, because it was starting to hurt.

“But we ain’t had a chance to get to know each other yet.”

Heather had decided it was time to forget about the poor guy’s feelings and go for a knee in his groin, when a hand clamped down on Trenton’s shoulder.

“Sorry I’m late, honey. Been waiting long?”

She glanced up at a man who was about as different from Trenton as a man could be. Tall and strong, good-looking with thick dark hair and perfect teeth. And he didn’t smell bad, either.

“Hey there, T.J.” She’d known him all her life. Been in the same classroom from grades one through twelve. That didn’t mean she felt relieved at having him ease her out of this sticky situation. In some ways T.J. posed more of a risk to her than Trenton McGuire ever could.

Trenton’s hand dropped from her arm. He slunk back onto his bar stool, with a slightly fearful aspect, as if he was worried he was about to get hit. But once he’d backed off, T.J. didn’t even glance in his direction again.

“Ready to go home?” he offered her his arm and after a slight pause, she took it.

People had been watching the drama with interest, a few of the men on the ready in case she really did need help. But T.J. had beaten all the wanna-be-heroes to the punch. Now they returned to their drinks and conversations, not paying much attention as Heather walked with T.J. out into the evening.

She breathed deeply, taking in the fresh bite of spring air with pleasure. In the pale moonlight, the white grain elevator across the street seemed to glow. She felt T.J.’s hold tighten and shivered.

“Thanks for helping me out in there.”

“You okay?”

There wasn’t quite enough light for her to read his expression. She unlinked her arm and took a step backward.

“Sure. You go on ahead. Don’t let me interrupt your plans.” He must have been going to the bar for a reason. Maybe he was meeting someone.

“I’ll walk you home.” He moved toward her and offered his arm again.

She wanted to say no, yet couldn’t find her voice. T. J. Collins had been back in Chatsworth for a few years now. He’d left his high-powered law partnership in Calgary to take over the Handy Hardware from his father. In all that time, she’d barely spoken to him. Despite their history, maybe because of their history, the man made her way too uncomfortable.

He started walking, taking her with him. Their strides matched, and they moved in silence, something Heather couldn’t imagine doing with anyone else. Normally she tended to be a chatty person, but small talk had never worked to her advantage with T.J.

Unfortunately the lack of conversation only made her more aware of his physical presence. Of the breadth of his shoulders, the lightness of his stride and the warmth of his arm against hers.

Though he’d never been to visit, he knew which house was hers—a two-bedroom bungalow in the middle of quiet, residential Mallard Avenue.

He waited for her to unlock the door.

“Thanks again, T.J.” She knew she should draw back once the words were out, but she let his gaze trap her. They stood, in the dark, on her landing, the scent of sweet lilac from the shrubs on either side of them clouding her senses.

He didn’t say a word to her. Not a word. Just reached for her. And suddenly they were kissing with the instincts of lovers who knew each other very well.

Somehow T.J. ended up in her foyer, the front door closed. Heather’s mind felt numb, her body wondrously alive. T.J.’s mouth was warm, incessant, gentle and demanding all at the same time. He kissed her as if he thought he might never be able to kiss another woman. All his energy, thought and desire, focused on her.

And she melted under his touch. As she always had.

“Heather.”

That was all he had to say. She let him pull her sweater from her shoulders, her T-shirt over her head. He carried her to the bedroom—picked the guest room by mistake, but it didn’t matter. There was a bed in here, too. They sat on the edge of the mattress, kissing again as his hands worked the clasp at the back of her bra.

Her breasts yearned to be touched. Her entire body yearned to be touched. Heat pooled in her core as she waited for his hands to make her feel all the delicious sensations she remembered clearly from their two previous encounters.

Much as she’d loved the other men in her life— Russell, her best friend and first lover; Nick, the brave police officer who’d been her husband—no one had ever made her feel quite the way T.J. did.

Wildly, crazily, brazenly woman.

He choked out another word. “Beautiful.” Then bent to kiss her nipples, his hands trailing down her back, then up again, coming round her rib cage to enclose the weight of her breasts.

Making love with T.J. seemed to happen so naturally, that later Heather couldn’t really identify any point in time when she’d decided, This is going to happen. It just did, as if it had been preordained. And maybe it had been—from that instant when he’d taken her arm in the bar.

This is why I’ve tried so hard to avoid you, she thought when they were both, finally, naked on the bed. The chemistry between them was so strong—and so inexplicable. It wasn’t as if they even liked each other. When they were kids he’d loved to tease and torment her. And that hadn’t changed once they were adults. So why did they keep ending up in bed together?

She knew it was wrong. She wasn’t the kind of woman who slept with a man she didn’t love. And yet, as T.J. rose above her, his well-defined chest outlined in the faint light from the unshuttered window, she felt as if she’d rather die than deny herself the next few hours. She put her hands to his pecs and felt the hard muscles tense. She hated to admit how much she wanted him right now.

“Heather.” This time there was a question in the way he said her name.

She looked at his face. He was so focused on her, his mouth serious, his gaze steady.

“I haven’t…been with a woman since my wife left. I don’t have any protection with me.”

She couldn’t believe they’d come this far and she hadn’t even thought about birth control. That was also so very not like her. She’d learned the hard way. One moment of carelessness was all it took.

But what if something did happen? Would it be that terrible this time? She was an adult now. In fact, this could be her last chance.

“Heather?

Their bodies were both primed for this moment. Yet Heather knew he would stop if she told him to. What should she do? Besides her aching sexual desire, she felt another secret yearning, equally strong.

She studied the face of the man she’d known all her life. She saw an innocence in his eyes that was usually masked. She saw longing and lust. And something more. Something she’d seen before but been afraid to acknowledge.

Tell him the truth, Heather. She hadn’t been on the pill for years.

“Make love to me, T.J. Please.”

She had no idea a tear had formed in the corner of her eye until T.J. brushed it away with the tip of his finger. Then he kissed the spot tenderly.

“With pleasure,” he said.

And that’s exactly how it was.

CHAPTER TWO

Mid-June

HEATHER AND HER BEST FRIEND Adrienne were seated at the outdoor patio of a restaurant in Yorkton. They’d finished lunch and were lingering over iced lattes. The day was sunny and warm, not too hot. Adrienne looked younger than her thirty-two years in her tank top and capris. Her fingers and toes were painted matching shades of a color that reminded Heather of grape jelly.

Finally Adrienne, who’d been amazingly patient so far, leaned across the table. “So what did you want to talk about? Come on—I’m dying of curiosity.”

Heather had been waiting for the right moment. Now she realized it was never going to come. She cleared her throat. “You’re the first person to hear this—”

“Oh, you’ve got a new boyfriend, don’t you?” Adrienne grinned with excitement. “I thought you’ve had a certain glow lately. He’s good in bed, isn’t he? I just—”

“No, Adrienne. This isn’t about a guy.”

“Really?” Momentarily crushed, Adrienne brightened again. “I know! You’ve decided to take that trip to Europe. You want me to watch your house while you’re gone.”

“No. Not a trip to Europe. Not a trip to anywhere. Adrienne, I think…actually, I know…I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Adrienne’s mouth formed a perfectly round shape. She blinked her eyes once, then a bunch of times, as if she needed to clear her sight.

“But…but you haven’t gone on a date in months.” Her forehead creased. “How pregnant are you?”

Heather knew what she meant. “Eight weeks.”

“Oh. My. God.” She planted both hands on the table, then leaned back. The corners of her mouth turned up. The smile widened into something that looked a lot like delight. “You’re pregnant!”

Relief flooded Heather, making her realize how much she’d been counting on her friend to have a positive reaction. Adrienne knew about her health issues. Knew, too, how giving up her and Russ’s baby when she was younger still tore at her. She touched her hand to her flat tummy. Hard to believe, but the tests had confirmed the news on three separate occasions.

She was going to have a baby.

“And the father…?”

“That’s the tricky part.” She couldn’t meet her friend’s gaze for this. “It’s T. J. Collins.”

“T.J.?” Adrienne fell back in her chair, shocked. Then she leaned forward again and whispered, “But you don’t even like him!”

“I know.”

“He used to make you miserable. You’d walk an extra four blocks to school to avoid crossing his path. And I’ve noticed how you’ve gone out of your way to steer clear of the hardware store ever since he moved back from Calgary.”

“I know, I know. It’s totally crazy.”

“On the other hand…the guy’s rich, he lives in the small town you’ve always sworn you’ll never leave and he’s a hunk. I never told you this, ’cause I didn’t think you’d understand, but if I wasn’t married…”

“Please. I can’t even imagine you not being married.” Adrienne and her quiet husband, Ernie, had been high school sweethearts. Just like Heather and Russell. Only they’d managed the happily-ever-after part, too.

“So tell me how it happened…between you and T.J.?”

“You won’t believe this. It is such a cliché.” Heather explained how T.J. rescued her from the unwelcome advances of Trenton McGuire, then walked her home. “One thing just led to another and the next thing I knew, he was asking if he needed to wear protection.”

Adrienne’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t exactly answer his question. But I think he may have assumed from…my actions…that I had things covered.”

“Heather!”

“Yeah.” Heather sank deeply into her chair. “He’s going to be so angry with me. Hell, I’m angry with me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a grade-four schoolteacher in a small town. I can’t have a baby without being in a committed relationship.”

“Was he good, Heather? I’m guessing he was really, really good.”

She couldn’t stop herself from blushing. She didn’t say a thing, just sat there turning more and more red-faced.

“Really? That good? Well, no wonder you lost your head.”

“I knew I was taking a spin at Russian Roulette, but I figured, what are the odds?”

“And you got lucky.”

“Or not lucky.”

“Come on, Heather. You always wanted to have a kid. This is your chance.”

“Yes, but I wanted the whole package. You know, the guy and the marriage and then the baby.” She frowned. “Some days I feel so excited and thrilled about the idea of finally having another baby. But when I try to imagine going back to school, growing big and heavy under the watchful eye of all those impressionable nine-and ten-year-olds, I just don’t think I can do it.”

“The school board won’t fire you. They can’t.”

“I know. But that’s not the point. I don’t want to be a bad role model for my kids.”

“You haven’t told your parents?”

Sigh. “No.”

“Heather…”

“I know. I have to do it soon, but I am so dreading the conversation. Can you imagine how disappointed they’ll be? My second pregnancy out of wedlock.”

Even saying it now, Heather could hardly believe it. She had no idea how her life had turned out this way. She’d always been a responsible person, and she’d tried to make smart decisions with her life. She’d earned her own way through university and had many good friends and a great relationship with her parents.

But she’d been unlucky in love. First, with Russell. They’d been best of friends for years, lovers for a short while, and then he’d met Julie and everything had changed. But while he’d made a life without her, Heather had trouble forgetting about him. Easygoing Russell with his charm and intelligence and kindness had remained her ideal for many years.

She hadn’t even been able to be angry with him about their baby. She hadn’t told him she was pregnant, so she couldn’t blame him for doing nothing. It had taken her years to get over her own pain, however. Finally she’d married a bright, ambitious young cop from Yorkton and looked forward to a future of teaching and raising a family of her own.

But Nick had been shot on the highway when he’d stopped what he’d thought was an impaired driver. The man had been drinking all right. Unfortunately he also had a gun and was intent on committing suicide. He’d taken Nick with him.

And left Heather on her own. She’d sworn to keep clear of men after that, but loneliness had eventually compelled her to start dating again. No one really appealed for more than a couple of dates, though. And she’d begun to despair of ever having the one thing she really wanted.

A child.

“Sometimes I wonder where I made my first mistake. Was it not telling Russell I was pregnant as soon as I found out? Marrying Nick? Sleeping with T.J.?” She shook her head. “Maybe I’m kidding myself, but I really feel too smart to be this stupid.”

“You’ve had bad luck with men.”

“People make their own luck.”

“Whose side are you on?” Adrienne sounded exasperated. “Is it your fault Russell fell in love with the elegant Julie? Or that Nick pulled over a crazy drunk and got himself shot? And don’t you dare blame yourself for sleeping with T.J. Though, maybe, you might have been a little more honest…”

Heather felt like sinking under the table. “Oh, God, he’s going to be so, so furious. Unless… Maybe I shouldn’t tell him.”

“Oh, right. Smart idea, Heather. And what happened the last time you got pregnant and didn’t tell the guy who was responsible? Besides, maybe there’s a silver lining to all this. In fact…” Adrienne stared across the street at the Co-op Grocery Store, but Heather could tell she wasn’t checking out the special on frozen lemonade.

“What, Adrienne? What are you thinking?”

“I’ve just had the best idea.” She straightened in her chair and smiled. “This is so perfect, so simple, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it right away.”

Heather waited.

“Okay. You want to keep this baby, right?”

“Of course.”

“And you don’t want to be a single parent.”

“Right.”

“That means you need to get married.”

“Brilliant, Adrienne. Why didn’t I think of that?” Heather put her head into her hands. This was hopeless. The whole situation was hopeless.

“So,” Adrienne carried on, “that means you and T.J. have to get married.”

“Me and T.J.?”

“Yup.”

“That’s your perfect idea?”

“Even aside from the fact that he’s the father of your baby—which is, by the way, a good reason on its own—the guy is ideally suited to you.”

“T.J. is moody, unsociable and downright rude. Which of those stellar qualities makes him perfect for me?”