Daddy on Her Doorstep. Lilian Darcy

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      “An hour to Spring Ridge isn’t that far.”

      “They have an excellent neonatal transport team, if a baby has to be moved.”

      “Don’t they say it’s always better to move a baby when it’s still inside the mom?”

      Were they arguing?

      She seemed to realize it, too, and pulled back from her defensive position. “As you point out, though, ten minutes is closer. I’ll take your advice and look at Mitchum Medical. Maybe it’s not too late to book in there, if it has everything on my checklist.” There was a tiny pause, then she added, “It’s so good of you to have me over. I wasn’t expecting that from a landlord. Can I put plates on the table? How can I help?”

      He directed her to the crockery and silverware, and she went out and laid them on the formal dining table that he almost never used, when he’d envisaged eating here in the kitchen. The choice seemed typical of the differences between them. She liked structure, he was laid-back. She preferred planning, he liked to go with the flow. She dressed for dinner, he stayed in his jeans.

      And, in fact, she seriously had changed outfits, he registered. This ensemble was green, like the outfit she’d been wearing earlier, but the green was a little darker, the fabric silkier, and instead of one stretchy top, she wore some kind of tank or T-shirt or blouse with a matching jacket on top. It would probably appall her to learn that he’d taken this long to notice the difference.

      It might appall her even more to know that he was struggling not to notice other things. The fineness of her skin. The way she smelled. The mix of lean grace and pregnant clumsiness in how she moved. He was appalled about it, himself. This was not the kind of overinvolvement Dad talked about. It was worse.

      They sat down to eat, and asked each other the usual polite questions. Do you have family in the area? You must enjoy your work?

      Her answers were almost the same as his. She loved her career. She had family in New York City.

      “Although it’s really just my mom,” she said. “My parents divorced a long time ago, and I’m an only child. My dad’s still in Allentown.”

      “Pennsylvania?”

      “That’s right. I’m not sure what Billy Joel was thinking, setting a song there. There is nothing romantic or interesting about Allentown! And I was born there, so I’m allowed to say it.” She wasn’t smiling. Sounded almost angry about it, as if she and Allentown had been through a bitter and drawn-out breakup.

      Well, maybe in a way they had …

      “Your dad likes it, though,” he pointed out gently, with some sympathy for the unknown man who’d chosen to remain in a small working-class city on a pretty river, instead of moving into the fast lanes of Philadelphia or New York.

      “He must.” Don’t go there, said her tone and her elbows, pinching in at her sides, making her shoulders and whole body look tense.

      Andy wanted to tell her to lighten up. He wanted to tease her or tell jokes until she smiled. His sister Scarlett was like this, so driven and rigid. He’d been like this once himself. Successful but unhappy and riding for a fall and not even knowing it. He scrambled for something to say, finding inspiration in the way the silky fabric of her jacket caught the light. “Some of my pregnant patients will want to know where you get your maternity clothes.”

      “Oh!” She beamed suddenly, and the wide smile softened her whole face. “You think?” For a moment she’d lost the stiffness and narrow control, and the difference in her seemed to light up the whole room. “I do love this outfit!”

      She ran her fingers lightly down the sides of the jacket, unconsciously emphasizing breasts made fuller by pregnancy. Then she straightened the neckline of the top beneath and Andy felt an unwanted—and unwarranted—tightening in his groin. She had such graceful, sexy hands, all smooth skin and long fingers and neat nails. And to watch her touching herself in unconscious sensuality …

      But she was his tenant, and she was pregnant, and the baby had a file number in a fertility clinic for a father, and he wasn’t going anywhere near any of that. Dad would be proud. He chewed some steak, instead.

      “Clothes are so important,” she said, still energized by the subject. “Well, to me. I love beautiful cuts and colors and fabrics. And you’re right, it’s hard to find nice things when you’re pregnant. I researched it early on, and put together a whole list, stores and catalogs and online, grouped by price range. I could print it out if you think your patients might find it helpful. It would be no trouble.”

      So she had a streak of kindness and an appreciation of beauty, along with the rigidity and cool-headed efficiency and drive …

      “Really?” he said. “You would?”

      “Of course, or I wouldn’t have said it.”

      “I might take you up on that. I’ll ask our practice nurse, Annette. Some patients do ask her about that kind of thing.”

      “And does Annette have time to answer? I found in Manhattan it was all such a rush. Sit on this bench and have blood taken. Sit at that desk and fill out the questionnaire. I’m hoping it’s a little more personal up here.”

      “It’s probably less efficient, though, I should warn you.”

      “I can do efficiency on my own.” The crispness was back. “From my obstetrician I need time and attention and openness to the needs of a first-time, single-by-choice mom. If I’ve taken the trouble to write down my questions in advance, I expect a doctor or nurse to take the trouble to give me answers.”

      “You’re not wrong …”

      “No. But you’d be surprised. People act as if there’s some mysterious, floating magic about having a baby. There’s not.” She was indignant, fluent, still energized. “I’ve done my reading, I have my birth plan in place, my labor partner Kelly is on standby. She’s my best friend, newly married and hoping to be a mom within a year or two herself, and she’s been at the classes with me. She’s coming up here a week in advance of the birth. She’s giving me a portable crib as her gift for the baby, bringing it when she comes.”

      “Very practical,” he agreed. As long as the baby co-operated and came at the right time.

      “I heard from her this afternoon and it was delivered to her place today. We researched all the available models together and chose the best one. In fact, I’ve researched everything I could, and I’m not going to apologize for that. I keep hearing, Think about that when the time comes, and, You can’t know how you’re going to feel until it happens, and it’s driving me crazy.”

      “I can understand that,” he said neutrally, while the doomed and dangerous words birth plan echoed in his head. In his experience, Fate took a perverse delight in throwing the best birth plans out the window from the moment labor began.

      Better not tell her that.

      Most definitely better not tell her that right now, when she was rubbing her lower back again and wincing as the pain tightened and then let go. “Braxton Hicks,” she said knowledgeably. “I think it was the drive up. I should have taken a break to stretch.”

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