Having Adam's Baby. Christyne Butler

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СКАЧАТЬ racing. She wasn’t ready yet. Adam had returned earlier than scheduled and she needed more time. Time to think, to plan, to figure what she was going to do about her business, the apartment, her in-laws, her parents …

      About him.

      The door opened, but only Adam’s hand appeared, a large glass of ice water in his grasp. He set it down on the sink and retreated, but then a sealed toothbrush and small tube of toothpaste joined the glass.

      The door closed again with a quiet click and Fay released the breath she wasn’t even aware she’d been holding.

      The nausea mostly gone, she rose and quickly rinsed out her mouth, brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Her reflection in the mirror had her yanking out her ponytail and redoing it, trying to tame her curls in a messy knot on top of her head.

      She drank the ice water, its coolness bathing her throat as she strained to hear anything on the other side of the door.

      Was he still there?

      Of course he was still here. He lived here. And he had every right to know why she was in his home, breaking dishes and tossing her cookies in his bathroom.

      She took a deep breath and threw back her shoulders to fake confidence she wished she felt. If only she knew what to say when she walked back into the living room.

      She opened the door and froze.

      Adam leaned casually against the far wall, all six feet plus of him, arms crossed over his naked chest, bare feet crossed at his ankles. At least he’d pulled on a pair of jeans, even if they did ride low enough on his hips for those dark briefs to peek out over the waistband.

      Her stomach clenched again. Tingling sensations danced over her skin from head to toe, and her throat went dry.

      This she couldn’t blame on the pregnancy.

      No, the blame was squarely on him. The reaction echoed those uncontrollable feelings the night she’d landed in his arms. Instead of continuing to rant against what his advice to his best friend had cost her, she had given in as he’d lowered his mouth and gently brushed his lips over hers.

      Then she’d kissed him back.

      “You feeling better?”

      Fay’s gaze jerked to his face, and she realized he’d been watching her gawk. She swallowed hard and forced herself to move past him as she replied, “Yes, thank you.”

      “Was it something you ate?”

      “No.”

      “Was it the sight of me?”

      Her footsteps faltered at his question. “N-no, of course not.”

      “So what?” Adam pushed, following her. “Some sort of bug or the flu?”

      Yes, the nine-month flu, only she prayed the books were right and this awful morning sickness would ease after the first trimester.

      “I’m just…not feeling well.” Back in the dining area, Fay saw he hadn’t cleaned up her mess. Thankful for the excuse, she knelt down and started gathering the broken fronds of the potted fern. “Sorry about this. I’ll get this picked up—”

      “Fay, what’s going on?” Adam moved to stand directly in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

      “Get back, there are sharp pieces here and you’re barefoot.” She brushed at his jean-clad leg before reaching for the plant itself.

      Rising, she scooted around him into the kitchen and placed it back inside the empty cardboard box on the counter. Hopefully she could save the pretty asparagus fern. “What are you doing here? I mean, this is your house, but your unit isn’t scheduled to return until June—ohmigod.”

      Suddenly the dizziness returned. The only possible reason for Adam being here … The same reason he’d come back to Destiny a year ago.

      Two months ago.

      She spun around and grabbed for the granite countertop to keep upright. “Are you here as an official escort again? Please tell me you aren’t responsible for another—”

      Fay cut off her outburst, capturing her bottom lip with her teeth, but it was too late. As soon as the unfinished sentence left her mouth, she wished she could take it back.

      She’d hurled a similar awful accusation at him eight weeks ago. To go there again, to make them both relive her resentment and hurt, would be of no use to anyone.

      Besides, she couldn’t say for certain whom she was mad at anymore. Whom she blamed.

      Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, before a flicker of hurt passed over them. Then with a blink, the emotions vanished.

      “Responsible for what, Fay?” His features hardened as he slowly walked toward her. “For another member of my unit getting killed?”

      “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Fay forced herself to look him in the eye. “That was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that.”

      The stiffness in Adam’s posture eased. “You showed up two months ago determined to say what was on your mind. I listened, but that doesn’t mean I agreed with you. Your words were coming from a place of anger and grief. I understood that.”

      “I wasn’t looking for your understanding.” The pain flared to life again inside her. “I was looking for—”

      “Someone to blame. Yeah, I figured that out…afterward.”

      After they’d made love.

      He didn’t say the words aloud, but Fay knew exactly what he meant.

      “It’s been a rough year,” he continued, his voice softer, “for you and the Coggens. You lost your husband, they lost their only son. And I lost my best friend.”

      Fay thought back to the first couple of weeks after Scott’s funeral. She’d just begun to crawl out of her haze. She had to. Bills had to be paid, her business required her attention and Scott’s parents, devastated at the loss of their only child, needed care. Finally needed her.

      Then the house of cards Scott had so carefully constructed over the years to hide his misuse of their personal finances started to collapse. The second mortgages on their house, credit cards she never knew he had.

      Not to mention what he’d done to his family’s business.

      A wave of exhaustion washed over Fay. A sudden desire to lean against Adam’s chest, to feel the strength of his arms, filled her. To have someone take care of her for once.

      Instead, she moved past him and sank into a chair at the dining room table. “You have no idea what we—What I’ve been through.”

      “You’re right. I don’t.” He turned and faced her. “But somewhere between blame and the next morning, we found—Dammit, I don’t know what we found.”

      She could feel him staring at her. Don’t ask me, please, don’t ask.

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