Judy Duarte

Once Upon a Pregnancy


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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