And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride. Susan Crosby
next door and rang the bell.
When he answered, her breath caught. But not because she’d been surprised to see him home. She just hadn’t expected to see him so laid back.
He was barefoot and wearing a pair of cargo shorts but no shirt. And while she tried her best to focus on those whiskey-brown eyes, she couldn’t keep her eyes off his broad chest and well-defined abs.
Had he forgotten they were going to look over wallpaper when he got home?
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
Okay, so he had forgotten. Now what?
As her gaze began to sweep over his chest again, she forced herself to gaze back at his eyes and to remember why she was here. “I brought home some wallpaper samples for you to see, if you still want to.”
“Sure.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Now?”
“Unless this is a bad time. If it is, it can certainly wait.”
“No, that’s okay. This is as good a time as any. Do I need to put on a shirt?”
Yes. No. Probably.
She again scanned the length of his chest, from the dark patch of hair that started at his throat and trailed down to the drooping waistband of his shorts and back up again. “Whatever you’re comfortable doing.”
“By the end of the day, I’m so tired of being confined in a shirt and tie, that I usually start shedding my clothes the moment I step foot in the house.” He chuckled. “And after the day I had, you’re lucky I’m wearing anything at all.”
She was? She didn’t feel so lucky. She felt a little … unbalanced by the sight of him.
And intrigued by it.
Impressed, even. His skin was an olive shade, without any tan marks. And he clearly worked out regularly.
He was an arousing sight, a picture of male health and vitality that any woman could appreciate.
She felt the heat course through her veins once again, pooling in her core, in the place that had been long neglected.
What was she going to do about her growing attraction? She certainly wouldn’t pop over to his house unexpectedly after five in the evening on a work night ever again. God only knew what state of dress or undress she might find him in.
She managed to offer him a smile, hoping it didn’t reveal her thoughts or her interest in him.
“Come on in,” he said. “It won’t take me long to grab a shirt. And then we can head over to your place and see what you’ve got.”
As she stepped into the foyer, she couldn’t help but scan the interior of his well-decorated house: the beige walls, the forest-green accents, the brown shutters, dark wood furniture and travertine flooring.
He had a gym bag near the door. A set of golf clubs, too.
She’d no more than entered the living room before he returned, wearing a white T-shirt bearing a Harvard Law School logo.
“See?” he said. “That didn’t take long.”
He walked with her back to the foyer, and as she stepped outside, he closed the door behind them. Then he followed her home.
“Thanks for taking a look,” she said as she led him through her house and into the kitchen, where she’d laid out the samples. If she’d thought his presence had filled the room before, she hadn’t seen anything yet.
He studied the bunny print, then moved on to the fairies and the rest.
“I didn’t ask if you were having a girl or a boy,” he said, “but from the looks of these, I guess it’s a girl.”
“Actually,” she said, skating over the fact that there were three babies and at least one was a boy, “I’d like to keep it generic. And for the record, all baby stuff tends to be sweet and might even seem girly.”
“Okay, then.” He pointed at the farm pattern. “This one is too boyish. I think you should go with the rabbits.”
She looked at the bunny print, then cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong with the farm pattern? Look at those little ducks and chicks. They’re darling.”
“It has tractors, which isn’t generic. It’s definitely a boy print.”
She crossed her arms, noticing how they rested across the ledge of her tummy these days. “I hope you’re not one of those guys who thinks that little boys always have to be dressed in blue and can’t ever carry a doll. Or that girls can’t play with blocks or trucks.”
“My kids can play with whatever catches their fancy,” he said, “as long as it isn’t dangerous.”
“Your son will get to play with dolls?”
He seemed to ponder that for a moment, then said, “Sure, if he wants to. But I might encourage him to trade them for a teddy bear or stuffed dinosaur instead.”
“Playing with dolls can help a boy learn to be nurturing and gentle,” she said.
“Maybe so. But most kids learn how to behave by watching their parents. And when mommy and daddy show kindness and love toward themselves and others, the kids are more apt to follow suit.”
He had a point, she supposed. Modeling the kinds of behavior and attitudes she wanted her children to have would certainly help. After all, it must work that way, because she’d grown up to be a lot like her mother.
“So tell me,” he said. “Did you play with trucks and cars when you were a little girl?”
“Actually, I played with whatever I could get my hands on—plastic containers my mom kept in cupboards, an old box she brought home from work and I colored to look like a castle. Money was pretty scarce when I was a child. So I learned to be content with what I had.”
His expression shifted from playful to serious. “I just assumed you were a trust-fund baby, like Peter.”
She was now, she supposed, thanks to Peter’s will. But it wasn’t always that way. “Actually, I had partial scholarships to college and worked at the bookstore all four years.”
“No kidding?”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”
He studied her, it seemed. As if he’d suddenly seen something he hadn’t expected to see.
“Does that disappoint you?” she asked, wondering if he’d somehow found her lacking, too. She’d always felt like one of the commoners around her in-laws.
“Why would it?”
Because there were others who’d thought that she hadn’t fit into Peter’s world. But she let that go unsaid and gave a little shrug instead.
“To be honest,” he said, “I’m actually relieved that you’re more down-to-earth than I thought.”
“Why’s that?”
He hesitated. “I wasn’t all that fond of your late husband. And I’m glad to see how different the two of you were. It will make being neighbors a whole lot more pleasant.”
She pulled out a chair, indicated that he should sit there, then took a seat next to him. “Tell me something, Hector. What did you and Peter bump heads over?”
He paused for a moment, as if needing to think over his answer, then said, “Behaviors and attitudes. I suspect our parents modeled two different world views in us, two different sets of values.”
“And you argued?”
“Not exactly. Comments were made. Offense was taken. Bottom line? I guess you could say we just didn’t respect each other and decided to leave well enough alone.”
That surprised her.