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By this time, Fred Baxter came running to their side, his breathing heavy and more labored than a short, indoor jog should have caused. “Oh my goodness! Simone. What happened?”
“I fainted,” she said. “I’m sure it was caused by low blood sugar.”
“I’ve got some orange juice in the back room,” Millie said. “And a granola bar.”
“That would help.” Simone slowly sat up, then ran a hand through her hair. “Thank you.”
As Millie hurried through the store, Mike said, “You’re going to need to eat more than juice and a snack. I’ll take you across the street to the deli so you can order lunch.”
And for once, when it came to Simone, he wasn’t going to sit back and let her call the shots.
Minutes after Fred had loaded their purchases into Mike’s Jeep and returned the key, Simone allowed Mike to lead her across the street to Prudy’s Menu. The small bakery/deli specialized in scrumptious desserts, gourmet coffees and teas, as well as homemade breads, soups and sandwiches.
They sat at one of the green bistro tables that graced the street-front patio of the eatery. An umbrella shaded them and their place settings from the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves of several old maples that grew along Lexington Avenue.
The waitress had just given them water and taken their orders.
“Are you feeling better now?” Mike asked.
“I’m still a little shaky, but it’s passing.” Simone offered him a smile she hoped was convincing.
She wasn’t used to being coddled or taken care of. Even as a kid, when she’d actually been sick, she’d had to fend for herself. So she’d gotten accustomed to being alone when she was under the weather and, to be honest, actually preferred it that way. For a woman who dispensed endless doses of TLC for a living, she was uneasy being on the receiving end.
Of course, now that she’d had a granola bar to eat and some juice to sip, she was almost back to normal—at least, physically. Emotionally, not so much. The news of her pregnancy was still a little unsettling.
Giving the baby up might not be easy, but it would be for the best.
“Are you too cold?” he asked. “Or too warm? We can go back inside if you’d be more comfortable.”
She reached across the table and placed her hand over the top of his. “I’m fine. And I’ll be even better when the waitress brings my soup. Besides, we have to sit outside because of Wags.”
“You’re right, but I’ll bet Millie and Fred would have watched the puppy for us.”
Simone peered under the table, where Wags was tethered to a chair leg by a new red collar and leash. He was so content to be greedily chomping on a little rawhide bone that he didn’t even glance up at her. “Look how happy he is.”
Mike’s gaze remained on her. “If it gets too warm for you out here, if the sun is too bright, let me know and I’ll take him across the street so we can go inside.”
“The temperature is perfect. And besides, the fresh air will help clear my head.” She offered him another don’t-worry-about-me smile, then scanned the small patio, where only one other group of diners—an elderly man and two women—sat.
There hadn’t been many people wanting to eat outdoors during the winter months, so it was nice to see the weather changing. And while she knew a cold spell could still strike at any time, she preferred to think that spring was here to stay.
Apparently, Belle, Prudy’s daughter who was now running the eatery, agreed, because there were several pots of red geraniums gracing the patio that hadn’t been there the last time Simone had stopped in for a bite to eat.
When the waitress brought their lunch—a turkey sandwich and vegetable soup for her and a pastrami on rye for Mike—Simone dug in.
The fainting spell was probably a combination of pregnancy hormones as well as a low blood sugar level from not eating, but she would talk to the doctor to make sure. There was no reason to take any unnecessary chances or to jeopardize the baby’s health. From now on, she would put the child’s best interests above her own.
Simone didn’t need a psychiatric evaluation to tell her the baby would be much better off with another mom. She’d wished a hundred times over that her mother would have had the courage to do the right thing when faced with an unwanted, unplanned pregnancy. Susan Garner would have done herself and Simone a huge favor by signing over maternal rights at birth, but that hadn’t happened.
And now, ironically, Simone was faced with the same decision. And while that decision might have come quickly, it wasn’t being made easily.
Would the baby look like Mike, with his black hair and green eyes? Or would it look more like her?
She could hardly imagine.
Had her mother been faced with those same questions when she’d been pregnant?
Maybe even more so, under the circumstances. And she suspected that when handed a baby who favored her father, Susan Garner had recoiled emotionally.
Genetics could be a real bitch sometimes.
When Simone had taken her second bite of the sandwich, she glanced up to catch Mike studying her. His hair, as black as a young raven’s wing, was spiked in a style that suited him. And his eyes, as green as a blade of new grass, were intense and quick.
He was of medium height, but there was nothing average or run-of-the-mill about him.
Their gazes locked, as they sometimes did, with a bond of friendship and professional respect.
So there was a bit of sexual attraction, too. But she knew better than to latch onto something as fleeting as that and glanced back at her food.
“Maybe you ought to see your doctor and have your glucose level checked,” he said.
“Don’t worry. Now that I’m eating, I feel much better.”
“Okay, but promise me you’ll make an appointment with the doctor anyway.”
Simone placed her half-eaten sandwich on the plate, then picked up her soupspoon. “All right. I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”
It was a promise she meant to keep, but she wouldn’t call Dr. Grayson, her general practitioner. Instead, she would contact Dr. Kipper’s office and schedule her first obstetrical appointment.
Of course, at thirty-seven, it was a little embarrassing to be unmarried and expecting a baby, but at least something good would come of it—especially if she could set up a private adoption with Millie and Fred.
Yes, she understood that Fred had some serious health issues, but he was a wonderful man. Her baby would be lucky to have a daddy like him.
“Okay,” Mike said, “you’re probably right.”
She glanced up from her nearly empty bowl, knowing that she hadn’t been thinking out loud, but having the strangest feeling that he’d been privy to her musing. “Right about what?”
“You’re wolfing down your food as though you hadn’t eaten in ages.”
“I told you that I hadn’t. Didn’t you believe me?”
“You’ve never lied to me, so I guess I have no reason not to.”
Would his worry increase if he knew she was pregnant?
Once Mike had implied that she would make the perfect wife. And he’d made no secret that he was ready to settle down and start a family.
She sure hoped he wouldn’t give her a hard time about the decision she’d made. Surely he’d see the wisdom in it.
And if he didn’t?
She could recite a list of reasons why it was the perfect decision—for both of them.
First, there was the age difference. And she wasn’t just talking chronologically. Simone had always been older than her years, even as a child; she’d had to be.
Secondly, his upbringing had been so completely different from hers that the two of them had very little in common. Mike had tons of stories he could relate about his childhood, memories that always brought a smile to his face. And on the other hand…well, hers were better left unsaid.
In addition, Mike had been born into a big, happy family. And Simone—an only child and a loner by nature—wasn’t comfortable in a crowd, especially when there were expectations of intimacy.
The one and only serious boyfriend she’d had in college had referred to her as an ice queen.
At the time, she’d laughed it off, but the words had hurt since they’d held a ring of truth. And while she preferred to think of herself as having intimacy issues, it hadn’t taken a major in psychology to connect the dots and realize that it was a miracle she’d become the woman she was.
So what if she’d avoided having a relationship with another man after that?
She might not be able to pin her hopes and dreams on having a typical home and family, but she was happy with herself—and with her life.
Eventually, Mike would realize that she’d done them both a favor by refusing to let him get tied down with a woman he would soon grow unhappy with.
She looked up from her meal, saw him relishing his pastrami on rye as though he didn’t have a problem in the world.
And he didn’t.
The pregnancy dilemma and possible solutions were hers.
Still, a wave of nausea rolled across her stomach, something that she believed had more of an emotional cause than hormonal.
She pushed her empty soup bowl aside.
What if Mike didn’t agree with her decision to put the baby up for adoption? What if he didn’t let up on her about wanting some kind of commitment?
She didn’t want to jeopardize her friendship with Mike; she truly liked the handsome paramedic.
But if worst came to worst, she would be forced to shut him out of her life—permanently.
As Simone led Mike along the sidewalk to her front door, Woofer howled at the side gate, welcoming her home.
“Hey, buddy,” Mike said. “We’ve got a surprise for you.”
“It’ll be a surprise, all right.” Simone glanced at the puppy in her arms. “I’m not sure how he’s going to feel about having Wags as a houseguest.”
“He’ll adjust,” Mike said.
Simone let them into the house, then went to the back door to greet Woofer.
Mike hadn’t given it much thought before, but he now realized that if the big dog didn’t take to the puppy, he’d be in a bind. Of course, Woofer didn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body, so maybe he was being overly concerned.
He took a seat on the sofa and waited for Simone to return. He could hear the click of the lock as she opened the door and let in the dog.
“Ar-oof, ar-oof.” Woofer’s tail thumped against something in the kitchen, and his claws scratched against the floor.
Since Simone didn’t immediately return, Mike figured she was trying to calm Woofer down in the other room before allowing him into the front of the house.
Maybe bringing the puppy here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Mike looked at Wags and whispered, “If she wouldn’t have fainted earlier this morning, I wouldn’t feel so uneasy about this now.”
Of course, Simone had seemed fine during lunch and on the way back home.
Moments later, Simone led Woofer into the living room, and when the happy-go-lucky mutt spotted Mike, he padded across the hardwood floor to greet him. But he froze in his tracks the moment he saw the puppy and made a growl-like grunt.
Mike put Wags on the floor, and the pup began to check out his surroundings, oblivious to Woofer. That is, until Woofer decided to investigate the new arrival.
After ten minutes, several barks, a few whines and a whole lot of sniffing, the dogs began to tolerate each other.
“What do you think?” Mike asked.
“I think I need to have my head examined for agreeing to look after Wags. These two are going to need a human chaperone.”
“Our work schedules ought to overlap some, so I can stop by and look after them when you’re not home. At least, some of the time. I have to leave for work pretty soon, but since your shift doesn’t start until tomorrow, it ought to be okay.”
For a moment, she seemed to ponder his suggestion to share the burden of both dogs, then she shrugged. “Let’s just take things one day at a time. I’ll take the first watch this evening. And we’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay.”
While the dogs continued to check each other out, the humans seemed to be tiptoeing around their thoughts and feelings. At least, Mike was.
Simone had once said that she couldn’t figure out what a guy like him saw in her. But the answer was a no-brainer to Mike.
He’d witnessed the compassion that drove her and made her one of the best nurses on staff at Walnut River General. And he’d seen the emotion that pooled under her cool surface.
No, there weren’t many women like Simone Garner in this world, and the rest seemed to fall short, at least in Mike’s eyes.
He glanced at his watch. “I guess I’d better take off. I really appreciate this.”
“You’re going to definitely owe me a huge favor after this.” Her eyes, as warm and sweet as a melted puddle of milk chocolate, glistened.
“You’re right.” And he’d be happy to come up with ways to repay her, although he figured she still needed more time. So he stood and let her walk him to the front door.
“How about a thank-you dinner at Rafael’s on Saturday night?” he asked. “Maybe you can wear that little black dress that looked dynamite on you.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m afraid that dress and Rafael’s would be a little too romantic for me.”
“Listen.” Mike placed his index finger under her chin and tilted her face to his. “I’m not sure why you’re fighting your feelings for me.”
“We’ve talked about this several times, and if you think about it, you’ll realize my answers have always been consistent.”
“Well, you’re not too old for me. And I have no problem if we don’t socialize very much. I’ve learned what a nice quiet evening at home can be like, and you won’t find any argument from me.” He tossed her a boyish grin. “I’d agree to another sleepover anytime.”
She shifted her weight to one foot, and her cheeks flushed. An emotional reaction to either the memory or the reminder, he suspected.
“As nice as it was, it was a one-night stand,” she said.
“No way, honey. I’m not sure how many of those you’ve had, but I can tell you from experience that first-time lovers don’t get in tune with each other’s bodies that way.”
“Okay, I admit it was good. Great, even. But a relationship between us will never work. I’m not family material, and you grew up like one of the Waltons.”
So Mike was one of five kids, and Simone didn’t have siblings. He couldn’t see a problem in that. Couples compromised all the time, learning to respect each other’s differences. Hell, his father had been raised Catholic, and his mom had been Protestant through and through. They hadn’t let it stand in their way, so he couldn’t buy that excuse.
“Do you think about it at all?” he asked. “The night we spent together?”
She didn’t answer, but he saw the struggle in her eyes. The fight between heart and mind. At least, he could swear that’s what he kept seeing in her. Normally, he knew how to cut bait and run when a woman wasn’t interested.
But his gut told him Simone was different. She wasn’t being coy or shy. Neither was she playing games.
She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. And there was only one reason she’d fight the feeling.
“Someone in the past hurt you, Simone.” His words seemed to strike some tender spot in her heart—God, he sure hoped they had, that he’d finally gotten to the bottom of whatever was standing between them.
As he studied her troubled expression, he realized his words had hit the mark.
“I’m not going to pry and dig for the truth,” he added. “But I can see it in your eyes. You’re afraid to let go and love me. But the feelings are there, brewing under the surface.”
“That’s not love, it’s lust,” she said, her voice husky with it.
“There’s that, too.” He was tempted to kiss her, long and deep and thorough, but he wasn’t at all ready to start something he couldn’t finish. Not when he had a shift starting soon. “But I’m serious about giving you the time you need.”
Then he reached for the doorknob to let himself out.
“You’re right,” she finally admitted.
He turned, his gaze snagging hers. “Right about what?”
“About me being hurt in the past, about me being afraid to get close to people. But those scars are deep and permanent.”
“Then you can’t blame me for wanting to be the guy who makes them disappear.”
They stood like that for a while, a man and a woman teetering on an emotional precipice that someone else had created.
He was sorely tempted to brush a kiss across her lips, to taunt her with memories of the sexual pleasure they’d found in each other’s arms more than a month ago. But instead, he kissed her forehead, much like his mother used to do to him and his siblings when they’d scraped an elbow or stubbed a toe.
“I’ll call you in the morning,” he said before letting himself out and closing the door behind him.
Time, he figured, was his best ally. He knew her scars were deep. He just hoped they weren’t as permanent as she wanted him to believe.
Chapter Four
Woofer found his new playmate entertaining, but when he grew tired of the puppy’s games and wanted to rest, little Wags was still going strong.
There’d been a few growls and yips and whines at first, but as the day wore on, the dogs grew more and more comfortable with each other.
So far, so good, Simone thought as she locked up the house and turned off the porch light.
Woofer usually slept in her bedroom each night, but since Wags wasn’t housebroken yet, she decided to put them both in the kitchen. One of the purchases Mike had made was a portable gate Millie Baxter had said might come in handy for separating the two, if it became necessary, and Simone had put it to good use several times.
Neither Wags nor Woofer was happy about being contained, and she hoped they would adjust soon.
After taking a nice long shower, she put on a flannel nightgown and pulled down the covers to her bed. The faint scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener reminded her the sheets were clean and fresh.
As she climbed onto the mattress and fluffed her pillow, it was the first real moment she’d had to relax all day, the first time she’d had a chance to ponder something other than dogs.
And that something was Mike.
Do you ever think about the night we spent together? he’d asked.
Of course she did. How could she not?
She’d never let down her defenses like that before. But there were several reasons she had.
She’d felt unusually pretty the night of Dr. Wilder’s cocktail party.
Dressed in a sexy dress and heels while holding the flute of bubbly had also made her feel elegant and sophisticated—a nice change for a woman who spent her workday wearing scrubs and her time off in an oversize shirt and a pair of comfy sweats or well-worn jeans.
As luck would have it, the conscientious waiter kept refilling her glass until she’d had a mind-numbing buzz, which had made the night seem surreal.
And as enchanting as a fairy tale.
Just seeing the way Mike had looked at her was enough to make her lose her head and pretend to be someone else.
And as he’d taken her hand and led her from the party and out of Peter’s house, she’d wondered if the night air would have the same effect on her as the clock striking midnight had on Cinderella.
But it hadn’t.
Overhead, the wintry sky was adorned with a million twinkling stars. And all around them, crystal flakes glistened on the banks of fresh-fallen snow.
When they’d reached Mike’s Jeep, he’d drawn her into his embrace. Then he’d tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. She should have stopped it right there, but her pulse and her hormones had been pumping like a runaway steam engine, and she’d been lost in the magic of the heated moment.
The first tentative touch of his lips to hers had quickly intensified into a mind-spinning, knee-weakening kiss.
If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it still, the way his tongue had swept into her mouth, stealing her senses and making her ache for more.
Her physical reaction, which had bordered on wild and wicked, at least for someone as staid and conservative as she was, had merely been a result of lust and alcohol.
Still, whether she liked admitting it or not, something deep inside her was moved by Mike’s charm and flattered by his crush on her. So when he’d driven her home, she’d thrown caution to the wind and continued to play the role of a princess at the ball. And for the next few hours, she’d pretended to be a woman who always wore her hair swept up in a classic twist, someone who actually belonged in a sexy dress and spiked heels.
But it wasn’t a game she would continue to play. Not with a guy like Mike, who wanted so much more than a one-night fling. And not when the kind of commitment he wanted would lead to love and marriage, which was more than Simone could—or would—give to anyone.
Too bad she hadn’t been able to get Mike to believe that.
Yet, in part, she could understand why.
On the night they’d made love, she hadn’t had any of her usual intimacy issues, so the sex had been incredible.
In fact, they’d made love until they’d run out of condoms, and she’d lost count of the climaxes she’d had.
But as the morning sun began to peer through the slats of the miniblinds, Simone had awakened, the sheets tangled at their feet and the scent of lovemaking in the air.
Dawn had brought forth a sobering reality, just as the gong sounding midnight had broken the spell cast on Cinderella.
Simone could no longer keep up the pretense in the light of day, so she’d slipped out of bed, grabbed a robe and found an excuse to send Mike on his way.
She just wished she could do the same thing with the memory of their romantic bedroom antics.
A sharp, whining cry tore through the house, and Simone threw off the covers and jumped out of bed.
Poor little Wags.
What in the world had Woofer done to him?
When she reached the kitchen, Wags had stopped his cries and sat next to Woofer at the gate, their tails swishing across the linoleum floor as though the whining had been a ploy to draw her back to them.
Nevertheless, she picked up Wags and looked him over carefully.
There wasn’t any sign of blood.
“Darn you guys,” she uttered.
If Mike had been home, she would have called and insisted he come pick up Wags. But he was on duty tonight.
And she was stuck until his shift ended.
At seven-fifteen the next morning, Simone finally climbed out of bed and, while exhausted, gave up any hope of getting a solid block of sleep. Thanks to the dogs, who’d whined and begged to be allowed to run free in the house all night, she’d slept fitfully. And since Wags wasn’t housebroken, she’d had to make repeated trips outside.
The trouble was, she hadn’t made it two feet out of her bedroom when she was laid low by a wave of nausea, followed by an annoying case of the dry heaves.
Being pregnant wasn’t any fun at all, and she wanted to blame Mike, the stars or just plain bad luck, but the only one responsible was the pale, red-eyed, wild-haired woman staring back at her in the bathroom mirror.
After washing her face with cool water, she’d taken the dogs out to the backyard. Now she stood in the middle of the dew-drenched lawn in her pale green bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers that had seen better days. She watched Woofer, who was—hopefully—teaching Wags what he should be doing outdoors and not inside on the kitchen floor.
The sky was overcast, and a wintry chill that had been absent yesterday urged her to slide her hands into the pockets of her robe.
She didn’t want to be outside; she wanted to go back to bed.
God, what was she going to do?