Daddy on Her Doorstep. Lilian Darcy

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СКАЧАТЬ did this man want? Around her own age of thirty-four, he looked strong and competent and sure of himself, dark haired, square-jawed, crooked-nosed, dressed in conservative dark pants and a pale polo shirt, with sleeve bands that stretched tight around hard biceps. His stride was long and he had an aura of casual ownership.

      Of the moment.

      Of the situation.

      It might have been appealing in other circumstances. She liked competence and control in a man.

      Right now, however, there was no traffic going by and the air had filled with an odd stillness, as if she and this stranger were the only two people anywhere near. He was kind of frowning and smiling at her at the same time. He was incredibly good-looking, with an especially nice mouth. Any woman would be bound to notice. But he was big and strong and she was no match for him physically. Especially not now.

      She stood, and the swing rocked again, reminding her of how she’d almost fallen a moment ago, and then had bumped down on it painfully hard.

      Scary. Unsettling.

      She was used to grace and strength in her body, not this clumsiness.

      She was used to being fully in control.

      She wasn’t used to this instinctive gesture of curving one hand in protection across her lower stomach, while the other was pressed against her beating heart.

      I want this baby, she reminded herself. I chose it. I went for it. It was a considered decision after a ton of research and planning. I didn’t sit around whining that there weren’t any good men and that my body clock was ticking.

      She wanted the baby, yes, but she wasn’t a huge fan of the actual pregnancy. It made her feel caged and vulnerable, a familiar feeling from long ago that she hated and fought or avoided whenever she could.

      “Claudia?” the stranger said, still with the frown and the grin.

      “Y-yes?” He’d said her name.

      “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, showing strong, clean fingers. “I’m your landlord. Andy McKinley.”

      Her landlord! Sheesh, of course he was! Claudia, you panicky idiot! She even recognized his gravelly voice from the phone.

      Oh, shoot, she was going to cry.

      I’m not. I’m not.

      This was another thing she didn’t love about the pregnancy—all the hormonal emotions sloshing around inside her. Just the switch from slight—and let’s face it, pretty irrational—fear about a stranger’s approach to relief that he had a good reason for smiling at her, knowing her name and giving off that sense of ownership, was enough to dampen her eyes and tighten her throat.

      “Nice to meet you, too,” she managed, after swallowing the tears back. Fortunately, she was still wearing her driving sunglasses so he wouldn’t have seen. She took her hand away from her chest, returned his handshake and found her fingers engulfed in a warmth and strength that once again reminded her of her own new vulnerability. “I’m a little earlier than I said.”

      “No problem.”

      “Um, Mr. McKinley, how come you’re parked in the street, not turned into the driveway?”

      “I was on my way to the store when my sister called, so I pulled over.”

      “Oh, right. It … uh … threw me a little, when you came across the grass. I didn’t know who you could be.”

      “Yeah, I can see how you could get the wrong idea. Sorry about that.”

      “It’s fine. Just wanted to explain. I don’t normally react like a deer in the headlights when a perfectly respectable man says hello to me.”

      “Good to know.” He gave another smile-and-frown, kind of crooked, and she felt she still hadn’t been fully on message. I’m not a jittery flake, I’m on top of everything I do. But if she didn’t let it go at this point, she would only make things worse. “And it’s Dr. McKinley, if you want to get technical.”

      “Oh. Dr. McKinley. Okay.”

      “Let me help you get your things inside and show you around,” he said easily. “I saw you lose your balance on the swing just now. Are you okay?” He stepped closer.

      “I’m fine,” she said firmly.

      “Sure?”

      “Quite sure.” What did he want from her? He was still studying her, frowning. If only he would look away, she might just rub her lower back again because it ached so much from the drive and the hefting of baggage. She didn’t want to rub it while he was watching, because even now that she knew who he was, she didn’t want to telegraph the vulnerability she disliked so much.

      She could still hear her mother’s voice on the subject of the baby, still see her openly scathing expression. Are you crazy? The words had come out harsh and strident and a little fuzzy after several glasses of good wine. Doing it on your own, by choice? There’d still been a wineglass in Mom’s hand as she spoke, held very gracefully by its slender crystal stem but threatening to spill. Do you have any idea? It’s nothing like getting a degree or taking the partnership track, Claudia.

      Just as getting through a bottle or two of French chardonnay or very nice Australian shiraz every night in the privacy of her own home, while wearing expensive jewelry and glittery clothes, was nothing like being an alcoholic, in Mom’s view.

      Claudia’s argument that she was thirty-four years old, she was a highly competent professional with a corner office that she’d well and truly earned, she was financially secure, she was dealing in a sensible, practical way with the fact that there seemed to be zero decent available men in New York City and she had thought her decision through with enormous care and a detailed budget, hadn’t swayed her mother’s opinion one jot. “You’ll find you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew, my girl.”

      Forget about it, Claudia, she lectured herself now, it was months ago.

      But darn it, she just couldn’t help rubbing her back, and Andy McKinley had seen.

      “I’ll just mention,” he said carefully, “that I’m a family practitioner, with a sub-specialty in ob-gyn.” He took a key ring from his pocket.

      “I’m not due for five and a half weeks. And since first babies are often late, I’m working on six.”

      “Mmm, so you are planning to have the baby here in Vermont?” He unlocked her front door, extended the handles on her suitcases and wheeled them both into the front hallway. He had strong wrists with a tan line on them that suggested he liked to ski.

      “That’s right.” She explained briefly in what she privately called her spreadsheet voice, “I wanted a calm atmosphere for the last weeks of the pregnancy, and for the birth. I wanted my body to recover and to get our bonding and our routine in place in peace and quiet for six weeks or so before I go back to the city and then to work.”

      “So you’re going back to work …?”

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