Lonergan's Secrets: Expecting Lonergan's Baby / Strictly Lonergan's Business / Satisfying Lonergan's Honour. Maureen Child
his jeans and stepped into them, tugging them up his long, muscled legs. He buttoned them up, then turned to look down at her.
“I’m sensing the magic is over,” she said and held out one hand toward him. He took it and pulled her to her feet in one smooth move.
“Maggie.” Scrubbing one hand across his face, he shook his head, bent and scooped up his T-shirt from the grass. Fisting it in one hand, he looked at her and said, “I don’t want you to think that—”
“Hold that thought,” she said, lifting one hand for silence and was almost surprised when she got it. “If you’re going to start telling me that this—” she waved one hand at the now-flattened patch of grass “—doesn’t mean anything, don’t worry. I’m not expecting a proposal or something.”
Her heart twisted a little. She didn’t do this kind of thing lightly. She’d been with exactly one other man in her life, and then it was because she’d thought she was in love. And really, wasn’t thinking you were in love the same as being in love? But even then she hadn’t felt the same… need, that she’d felt for Sam from the beginning. Tonight had been inevitable. Where it went from here was still in question.
“Yeah, but—”
Maggie cut him off, speaking up quickly. “And you know, I don’t usually sleep with a man I’ve known less than a week.” Before he could open his mouth again, she said, “It was just…”
“I know,” he said quietly. “You kind of hit me hard, too.”
“Really?”
He gave her a brief one-sided smile. “You’ve been making me nuts for days.”
“You, too,” she admitted with a sigh, then clarified, “I mean, you’ve been getting to me, too.”
“You should know,” he said tightly as he pulled his T-shirt on, shoving his arms through the sleeves, “I didn’t come down here tonight for this—” he paused. “I mean, that wasn’t the plan.”
“What was the plan then?”
“Damned if I know.” He shrugged, frowned into the distance, then shifted his gaze back to hers. “Guess I wanted to see you.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Me, too, but—”
“But…?”
“It’s a little late to be asking,” he said, “and as a doctor, I sure as hell should have known better.” He shook his head and stabbed both hands through his hair impatiently. “Can’t believe I didn’t think. Didn’t consider—”
“What?”
He turned a flat, emotionless stare on her. “I didn’t use anything.” When she didn’t say anything, he added, “A condom?”
“Oh.” She thought about it for a second, then realization dawned like a hammer to the head. “Oooh.”
“Crap.” He closed his eyes, sighed heavily, then opened them again to look at her. “I’m guessing from your reaction that you’re not on the Pill.”
“No reason to be,” she said and slapped one hand to her abdomen as if she could somehow protect it belatedly. “I mean, until you—tonight—well, it’s been… a long time.”
Oh, she really had been way too wrapped up in the heat of the moment. Her stomach did a slow swirl and dip as the ramifications of what they’d done hit home. They might have made a baby tonight.
“Damn it.” He leaned over, grabbed his boots and straightened up again, his features tight, his eyes shuttered. “Stupid. I was stupid. Sorry doesn’t seem like enough.”
“We were both stupid,” she reminded him. “I was there, too, so you don’t get to take the whole blame. It’s not as if you took advantage of me or something. I’m a grown-up and I make my own choices.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make this any easier.”
“Maybe not,” she said, “but this is just as much my fault as yours, so no point in wasting a perfectly good apology.”
She tried to think. Tried to figure out where she was in her cycle. Then she gave it up because she’d never been good with math anyway. She crossed her fingers for luck and said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re sure.”
“It was only the once.”
“Twice.”
“Right.” She blew out a breath and told herself not to panic. No point in panicking yet. She swallowed hard and nodded as if convincing herself as well as him. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, his gaze still narrowed and thoughtful on her. “But you’ll tell me. Either way.”
“Of course,” she said. “There won’t be anything to tell, but if there is, I’ll tell you everything.”
“Good. Good.” He nodded firmly, as if that settled the matter. “And just so you know, I’m healthy.”
“Oh, I am, too,” she assured him and wished that sex in the twenty-first century could be a little less clinical and a little more fun. Although, they’d had fun and now look where they were.
After that an awkward silence stretched out between them. An owl hooted in the distance, and with a push from the wind the lake lapped at the shoreline. Leaves rustled overhead, and from the next ranch came the sound of a barking dog, eerie in the darkness.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie,” he said suddenly, his voice hardly louder than the soft, papery rustle of the leaves.
Her heart fisted in her chest and Maggie sensed him pulling even further away from her. There was misery in his eyes and a loneliness in his voice that tore at her.
“What makes you think you will?”
He shifted his gaze from her to the dark surface of the lake. He stared hard, and Maggie had the distinct impression that he was looking at the lake not as it was now but as it had been on a long-ago summer day. And almost to himself he said, “There’s just no other way.”
Seven
Over the next week Jeremiah sensed a change between Sam and Maggie. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he was pretty sure there was more going on between them than they were saying. Every time one of them came into the room, the other one started getting jumpy.
He was old.
Not stupid.
When his bedroom door opened, Jeremiah lay back against his pillows weakly, just in case. Sunlight lay across him in a slice of gold. He opened one eye, spotted his friend Bert and sat straight up. “About time you got here. Did you bring it?”
Bert winced and closed the bedroom door with a quiet snick. “For God’s sake, keep it down. Yes, I brought it—and it’s the last time,” he added as he stalked toward the bed.
Bert’s face was flushed, and guilt shone in his pale blue eyes so clearly it was easily readable even from behind the thick glasses he wore.
“Now, Bert,” Jeremiah said, swinging his legs off the bed, “no reason to start losing your nerve now.”
The other man set his black leather medical bag on the edge of the bed and gave the tarnished bronze clasp a quick twist. Then he delved one handed into the bag and pulled out a bottle of single-malt scotch. Scowling fiercely, he handed it over. “It isn’t about nerve, Jeremiah. It’s about what’s right. I don’t like lying to Sam.”
Frowning himself, Jeremiah studied the bottle of scotch. “Well, come to it, neither do I. But I had to get them all home somehow.”