Let's Have A Baby!. Christy Lockhart

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      That lasted until she saw Kurt.

      Yesterday she’d seen him as the answer to her prayers. This morning he quite literally stood between her and her dreams.

      “Cream and sugar?” he asked.

      Telling herself that she could buy clothes in Denver, she grabbed her purse.

      “Your car keys are in my pocket.”

      Her temper flashed. She stalked into the kitchen. Ignoring the fact that he was holding a mug of coffee and paying no attention to the differences in their height and weight, she poked her finger into his chest. “You are the most insufferable, arrogant, male...”

      “Yes?”

      “...jerk that I have ever met.”

      “Ouch.”

      “Get out of my house and my life.”

      “No can do.” He reached down and shoved the cup onto the telephone stand. “Tell you what, I’m willing to make a deal.”

      Her eyes narrowed, but her breaths continued in shortened gasps of fury. She dropped her hands to her sides, suddenly realizing she was touching him. From the flash in his eyes, she knew he’d noticed, too.

      Something was happening to her, something she didn’t like, something she couldn’t stop.

      She had never misbehaved in her life. Now, in seconds, Kurt had pushed past all her inhibitions, uncovering parts of her personality that she hadn’t suspected existed. It scared her.

      “If you can convince me, in say, five days, that this is a smart thing, that collecting the donation of some man you don’t know, a man who could be a rapist or murderer—”

      “More likely a med school student—”

      “If you can convince me this is a good idea, I’ll drive you to Denver myself.” His voice dropped to a cajoling tenor. “What do you say? Deal?”

      “It’s not your deal to make.”

      “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I’ve got your clothes and your keys.”

      Her fingernails carved half-moons into her palms. “You’re holding me prisoner.”

      “Offering you a chance to think this through.”

      “I’ll call the sheriff.”

      “Go ahead. Doesn’t matter to me if this is splashed all over the Courier.”

      He was bluffing. He had to be. “It won’t be.”

      “Miss Starr doesn’t have contacts?”

      Jessie’s stomach tightened and frustration clawed at her.

      “Five days, Jessie. I’ll convince you to do this the right way.”

      “Your way,” she bit out, hardly able to keep her thoughts straight. He’d backed her into a corner, a place she swore she’d never allow herself to be in again.

      She’d fought long and hard, surviving the years of being alone and unwanted, helpless to make her own decisions. And she’d nearly thrown away her independence on Sam. Instead she’d learned the lesson, in her heart as well as her mind. Reinforced by pain, it wasn’t one she’d soon forget.

      “well?”

      “Never,” she said.

      “That’s your final answer?”

      “Yes.” She’d won. She’d stood up for what she believed, had refused to cower, had proven she was in control of her own life.

      “Play it your way.”

      She exhaled. Now that she’d won, she could afford to be gracious. She knew he cared about her as a friend. Sometimes friends did extreme things. As long as he stayed out of her business from now on, she’d forgive him this once.

      Somehow, though, his capitulation seemed easy. Too easy, maybe. “I appreciate your concern. Really I do.” In a way, she did.

      Since she had no relatives, Mary had become Jessie’s confidant. Mary had expressed her reservations about Jessie’s decision to become pregnant, but since the first time they’d spoken of it, Mary had resolutely kept her opinions to herself.

      Brother and sister had nothing in common, apparently. “Now if you’ll give me the keys, please.”

      ‘I’d rather we hadn’t had to do it this way.”

      Before she had time to blink, he’d swung her from the floor.

      Her breath whooshed out when her stomach connected with his shoulder. She hung upside down, grabbing for his well-worn leather belt, staring at the contours of his buttocks and powerful thighs.

      She struggled, wiggling around, but didn’t dare move too much for fear of dislodging herself and toppling to the floor. “Kurt!”

      “Worked my way through college calf roping,” he said, a palm pressed against her spine. “Keep still before I practice those ties on you.”

      “You can’t do this. You said...”

      “I said I’d stop you.”

      He pivoted, and she fought a wave of dizziness. The room spun beneath her.

      “Put me down!”

      He ignored her.

      “You were going to give me five days!”

      “I will.”

      When he opened the front door, winter’s last lash stole what little remained of her breath.

      “Morning, Mrs. Johnson!” Kurt called out.

      Jessie kicked, futilely trying to connect with bone and muscle.

      “Morning, Kurt. Jessie.”

      Jessie groaned, fully convinced she was going to die of mortification now that the neighbors had witnessed this horrible event. She wouldn’t die, though, she vowed, until after she killed Kurt.

      “Are you two going somewhere?”

      “Taking Jessie away for a few days.”

      “Have a nice time. I’ll keep an eye on the house.”

      He opened the door to his pickup truck and dumped Jessie unceremoniously on the seat. Then he leaned toward her. “Unless you want the neighbors to really enjoy the show, stay right where you are.”

      She battled the temptation to run, but he was taller, faster and didn’t mind making a scene. Jessie didn’t want this to be splashed all over the Courier, but she СКАЧАТЬ