suit and short, reddish-brown hair. “Now don’t tell me you’re that fellow who’s been sneaking around!” she announced loudly enough to be heard in the next county. “If you are, you can sneak around my house any time. I’m Mimi.”
She thrust out her hand. He shook it, too astonished by her remarks and overt friendliness to reply.
“Who’s out there?” A young woman with long dark hair joined the first one. “My gosh, Casey, there’s a hunk on your porch! Where’d you come from, mister? Don’t tell me! My dreams!”
Jack had never been greeted with quite this degree of welcome by strangers. Did these women talk this way to any man who showed up, or were they that desperate for male companionship?
“Let me see, Bonnie.” A large-boned woman with steely hair loomed in the doorway. “Well, if he’s the prowler, he’s making a fool out of me, because I figured it was my ex-husband. If you’ve come to sell us something, mister, better speak up before these ladies auction you off to the highest bidder.”
“Actually, I was looking for my wife,” Jack explained.
Mimi groaned. The other two stared at him. Suddenly he didn’t feel so welcome.
“You would have to be married,” said the one he thought was Bonnie. “Who’s your wife?”
“I think I can guess,” Mimi told her.
“What is going on out there on my porch?” It was Casey’s voice, at last. “Gail, I can’t see who—”
The guests parted to let her by. Shock registering on her face, she broke off in midsentence.
Jack felt a sweet familiar ache at the sight of his wife. Those bright blue eyes, those curving cheeks with a sprinkling of freckles. He wanted to cup Casey’s chin and kiss her, to run his fingers through the light-brown hair curling around her shoulders and pull her tightly against him.
There was something funny about her denim jumper, though. It didn’t fit her right, or had she gained weight? It was hard to tell at this angle, and he didn’t want to stare.
“Jack,” she said flatly. He couldn’t read her mood.
More faces appeared behind her, wearing various degrees of curiosity and, in a few cases, disapproval. “Do you want us to stick around, Casey?” someone asked, to which another woman answered, “Are you crazy? They’ve got plenty to talk about. Hand me my jacket, would you?”
The noise of the departing guests made conversation impossible. Jack eased inside and let his wife say her farewells while he tried to make sense of the decorations.
Pink ribbons and balloons shaped like babies. Bits of wrapping paper with infants on them, and open boxes revealing a folded playpen and a car seat. It couldn’t be anything else but a baby shower.
Whose baby?
He turned to survey his wife. She was hugging an older woman—hugging this person at arm’s length, because her stomach intervened.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d known how much Casey wanted a baby, but he’d never figured she’d try it alone. What had she done, gone to a clinic? She hadn’t mentioned another man—if she had, Jack would have finalized the divorce in a hurry—and surely she hadn’t jumped into bed with a guy just to get pregnant.
He kept thinking he must be imagining this. That he’d arrived at the wrong house, which happened to belong to a woman named Casey who was a dead ringer for his wife. Or that she’d held the party for a friend and he’d missed some new fashion that required wearing dresses that stuck out in front.
Jack sucked in a deep breath. What a mess. He’d flown all this way to help her, and he still planned to do that, but she’d obviously decided to rule him out of her life. She’d made this decision on her own, precluding any chance of reconciliation.
It felt like the time a suspect had whirled around and sprayed him with Mace. The agony had been so intense that, even though he knew it caused no permanent harm, he’d feared for a moment he couldn’t bear it.
The last of the women trailed out the door, casting inquisitive glances his way. Jack forced his features into the expressionless mask he’d perfected as a teenager, when he’d frequently moved to a new foster home and a new high school. Never show weakness. Never show any feeling at all, no matter how hard your gut screamed for relief.
At last Casey closed the door. When she swung around to face him, he got an unobstructed view of her abdomen in profile. If he’d had any lingering hope that he might be mistaken, the sight dispelled all doubt.
He tried not to focus on how full her breasts looked or how lustrous her skin had become. If anything, pregnancy made her more beautiful, but if he mentioned it, she’d never believe him. Defiance glinted in her gaze and he knew that if he weren’t careful, she’d give him a tongue-lashing.
He’d probably get one, anyway. She appeared to be in that kind of mood.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
“Obviously not.” Casey crossed her arms protectively. “I suppose I should have said something but you’d have thought I was trying to trap you.”
“Trap me?” He’d assumed it was the opposite. She’d clearly rejected him.
“Well, you didn’t want a baby.”
“That much we agree on.” Jack hoped she’d start making sense soon.
“I figured you might see it as a betrayal.” Her lips quivered, and she pressed them tightly together.
“How else could I see it?”
“As a…well, not a mistake.” She lifted her chin. “As a blessing.”
“Congratulations.” He surveyed the room filled with torn wrapping paper, balloons, toys and stuffed bears. “Looks like you’ve got everything you need.”
Despite his attempt to make conversation, she glared as if he’d just insulted her. “Is that all you have to say?”
He must have missed some clue, one of those feminine things that always eluded Jack. “Nice place,” he ventured.
Utter silence. Disbelief writ large on her face.
Too bad she didn’t appreciate his attempts at diplomacy. “So I guess you want to talk about it,” he ventured.
“About ‘it’?” Fury vibrated in her voice. Jack wished she didn’t look so sensuous, with her hair mussed and her eyes even larger than usual.
“The, uh, fact that you’re pregnant,” he managed to say.
Finally, a nod. “Some kind of reaction would be appropriate.”
How was a man supposed to respond when the woman he’d married did something to split them apart forever? He didn’t see how anything he could say would help, but he’d better try or Casey was going to lacerate him. “I guess I’m pleased for you.”
“Jack! I want to know how you feel!”
“How should I feel?”
“I don’t know! You tell me.”
He gave up searching for the right words. It was no use, anyway. “How do I feel? Like I got sucker punched. We aren’t even divorced yet and you went out and did this. I guess it’s none of my business whether you picked some clinic or some guy, even though technically you’re still my wife. How do I feel? Lousy. Ticked off. Like an idiot for flying here from California because I was worried about you and figured you needed a bodyguard. Okay? How’d I do?”
As he spoke, his legs carried him around the room like a tiger pacing its cage. All these fripperies and cutesypie decorations made him want to rip them down so he could breathe.
“Oh, my gosh.” Casey’s jaw dropped.
“‘Oh,