Baby, I'm Yours. Catherine Mann

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      Staring up at the indecisive customer she currently longed to strangle, Claire stifled a frustrated scream. The bad luck just kept rolling in at a time when she needed to bolt for the kitchen, far away from the temptation to tell Vic everything now.

      Or worse yet, crawl into his lap and all over him. Now wouldn’t that go over well with the Saturday lunchtime clientele?

      Claire launched to her feet. Too fast. She grabbed the chairback for support as her stomach rose to her throat without warning. If Vic’s brother-in-law didn’t make up his mind soon so she could leave, she was going to toss what little she’d eaten all over Vic’s work boots. Big work boots.

      No little swizzle stick.

      “Gentlemen, how about I give you a while longer to look over the menu? I’ll send someone out to take your order in a few minutes.”

      Please, please, please, Starr, arrive soon.

      “No need,” Bo insisted. “It’ll just take a second, darlin’, and I may have some questions.” He studied the menu.

      For the third time.

      Was this guy torturing her on purpose?

      Claire flipped open her pad again and doodled tiny baby bottles along the edges to keep from looking at Vic. She dreaded her upcoming conversation with him, but she couldn’t hide the pregnancy much longer. Already, her apron pulled tighter around her waist, and she’d seen his eyes linger on her swollen breasts.

      Overly sensitive breasts that currently tingled for the touch of his talented tongue.

      How would the footloose bachelor react to the news that he would soon be a daddy? Especially when she could tell he wasn’t over his divorce.

      The green-eyed monster nipped her, then turned a sad shade of blue as she thought about the little girl he’d lost and how this would make him think of her all the more.

      Claire’s aching maternal heart clenched in sympathy. She didn’t know the details beyond gossip since Vic never talked about his past, a telling silence. The rumor mill held that his daughter drowned and his marriage dissolved as a result.

      The green-blue monster turned fiery red to confront the woman who’d walked out on Vic.

      Jeez, it wasn’t like they were even dating. Just friends who’d fallen victim to a nocturnal chat and loneliness for one impulsive weekend. Okay, a three-day weekend where they didn’t sleep much. Then the whole condom accident cut everything short because for some reason she’d kept the old box around from her brief engagement four years prior.

      At thirty, she should be wiser now about her relationship track record. But Vic had a dangerous effect on her self-control.

      Bo slapped the menu shut, jerking Claire back to the present. She poised her pencil, ready to write and run.

      “Could you list some of the other house specials?”

      She inhaled three slow breaths and willed her stomach not to swell in the eons it seemed it would take this military aviator to make up his mind. “Baby back ribs. Baby artichoke salad. Baked chicken served with baby potatoes and glazed baby carrots.”

      Baby? Even the menu was out to get her today. She moved on to safer foods.

      “Or pulled-chicken pecan salad on a crisp bed,” she pushed aside thoughts of beds with Vic sprawled across crisp white sheets, “a bed of iceberg lettuce.”

      Ice. Yes, cool, chilling thoughts.

      “Hmm.” Bo tapped his menu against his chin. “What else?”

      Patience, she reminded herself. A mother needed to have patience. “One of our house specialties is country ham.” Would their baby have Vic’s blond hair and his blue eyes? “With blue-eye, uh, I mean redeye gravy.”

      “I’ll take the chicken-fried steak after all.”

      Chicken certainly seemed appropriate for the day since she felt like a great big coward. “Ooh-kay. One chicken-fried steak and a cornbread catfish coming right up.”

      Plucking a folded napkin from her pocket, Claire dabbed the sweat from her brow and willed away the dizziness. Surely it had more to do with her lack of lunch than with the rugged hunk sucking all the oxygen from the room. She pocketed her notepad in her apron and spun away on her heels.

      Too fast.

      The room tipped.

      Thrusting out a hand, Claire stared helplessly at the floor growing closer and could only think how apparently her bad luck wasn’t over for the day.

      Two

      With lightning reflexes gained from years of dodging potentially lethal horse kicks, Vic shot out of his chair. He scooped Claire up before she hit the hardwood floor.

      He bent on one knee, Claire cradled to his chest where his heart pumped. Too fast. Warm and soft, she sagged against him, with dark circles under her eyes. Her head lolled on his shoulder.

      “Claire? Talk to me.” What if she was actually sick? He pressed two fingers to her throat and found a steady pulse.

      Thank God.

      She sighed and snuggled closer, her eyes closed while chairs scraped back throughout the dining room. Footsteps vibrated the floor. Overhead lights dimmed as curious patrons circled, not that he could see anything other than Claire’s pale face at the moment.

      Why couldn’t there have been a doctor in today’s diners? His medical training wasn’t worth jack at the moment.

      The mass parted as a wiry woman pushed through with a nervous energy that rivaled a hummingbird on Mountain Dew. Claire’s sister Starr fluttered to a stop.

      “Move on over, people, and let her breathe.” Not a soul dared disobey the scrappy five feet of frenetic will and wildly escaping hair. “What happened?”

      “I have no idea. She just keeled over.” And shaved at least two years off his life. His heart hadn’t slammed this hard against his ribs when he’d jumped a fence to avoid getting gored by an angry, recently castrated bull. “She doesn’t seem to be hurt. I caught her before she hit the floor.”

      Starr nodded, rising. “Good. Good. Now put all those hard-working muscles to good use and let’s move her someplace quiet while we decide whether to call EMS.”

      Vic gathered Claire more securely in his arms and stood, unable to resist savoring the soft swell of her breasts against his chest, the flowery scent of her hair. And had he mentioned the swell of her breasts against his chest? Of course, Claire would likely clock him with a frying pan when she woke up.

      If she woke up.

      Concern cranked into high gear. He knew all too well how fragile life could be. In some distant part of his brain, Vic heard Bo speaking to him, but couldn’t concentrate on anything more than Claire in his arms.

      He charged around tables after Starr СКАЧАТЬ