Craving a Hero: St. John Sibling Series, book 3 (15 page)

CHAPTER NINE

She'd been wrong…at least so far. Eight weeks had passed since Dane had headed back to Hollywood to prepare for his next movie, and he still sent her daily texts and emails, this latest an email from his on-location shoot from Eastern Europe.

Good morning, Bright Eyes. Wish I was waking up to those beautiful eyes of yours instead of a mug of coffee being waved in my face by a producer. Did a night shoot that ended just before dawn and now they want to get an early start on today's filming. Got to keep moving, they say. Production costs, they say. I understand low-budget production costs from the first movie with a no-name lead like me. But you'd think, after that movie went blockbuster at the box office, they'd have loosened up a bit on the production budget.

Oh, wait. They did. They're spending a lot more on blowing things up. Okay. I'm also getting more money this time around. Still, I wish they'd chosen the U.P. rather than Eastern Europe to shoot this film supposedly set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. But they tell me production costs are lower in Europe.

Not that I'd have had much time to spend with you even if we'd filmed in the U.P. Being in almost every scene, my shooting schedule doesn't give me much more than a few hours of downtime each day. But, if we were shooting there, an hour with you would be better than no time at all. Miss you.

Dane

Kelly sat at her dressing table-turned desk staring at her laptop screen—at Dane's final words. Normally, she'd have already hit reply and begun to type her response. But, given what she'd learned just before opening her laptop and downloading her emails—before searching out that morning message she always hoped would be waiting for her, she wasn't sure what she would email back to him.

So she moved the email into the file labeled "Dane." She needed time to think and a day's work should be enough to clear her head.

She closed her laptop, picked up her cell phone, and tapped out a quick text to him.

Sorry about yr schedule. Work calls. Gotta go.

But she didn't
go
, not quite yet. She picked up the slim, white plastic tester from beside the laptop. The results hadn't changed. Still two pink lines. Still pregnant.

#

But Kelly wasn't any closer to knowing what to write to Dane after a day's work than she'd been that morning. Probably because every attempt at composing something in her mind was interrupted with what Dane had said about
someday
wanting what his brother Roman and sister Dixie had—what his parents had—a monogamous relationship defined by a marriage license and kids.

Someday.

Not now.

Oh, he loved his nephew and soon-to-be-born niece. No doubt about it, judging by the way he lit up when he talked about them and how eagerly he shared with her new pictures of Ben and the sonogram of Roman's and Tess's baby-in-utero. But nieces and nephews didn't come with the responsibility of a child of your own. And the last thing she wanted to do was
trap
Dane, especially now that they seemed to be building such a good friendship.

Besides, trapping a man hadn't worked out well for her mother. The last thing she would ever want for her child was for him or her to grow up knowing their father hadn't wanted them. But, would it be any better for her child to grow up knowing her mother hid his or her existence from their father?

In the end, she simply wrote a short note about her day at work and that she missed him, too. There was still time to figure out what, if anything to tell Dane. After all, if she spared him the responsibility now, by the time their child figured out what she'd done, Dane should be all grown up and ready for the responsibility of fatherhood.

Now all she had to do was tell her parents. But, in some ways, facing her dad—facing his disappointment—was going to be a more daunting obstacle than telling Dane. That too could wait…for a while.

#

The morning sickness hit with a vengeance. Kelly thought she'd hid it well through the first week until… She opened the bathroom door and found her mother standing there, a pile of laundered towels in her arms.

"Time we had a talk, girl," she said, ushering Kelly back into the bathroom, butt-shutting the door behind them.

Alma sat her on the edge of the tub, put away the towels, lowered the commode seat, and sat facing her. "It's not the flu, is it?"

Kelly shook her head.

"Don't imagine I have to guess who the father is."

Again Kelly shook her head.

"I'd ask how this sort of thing happened, but I know."

"We used protection." Kelly bowed her head. "After the first time."

"I understand, baby." Her mother stroked a lock of wayward hair back from Kelly's brow. "Does Dane know?"

Kelly shook her head.

"But you are going to tell him."

"I-I don't know."

"I never saw you so happy as when that boy was around…and since. You two are always emailing and texting."

"I know, Mom. But…"

"He strikes me as a real nice fellow. He's got strong family values."

"He's all that, and more. But he's not ready to settle down with a family."

"Kelly, look at me." Kelly met her mother's eyes. "Isn't that
his
choice to make?"

Kelly lowered her gaze. "I don't want Dane to ever feel like I trapped him."

"Is this about your biological father—about how he cut and run when I told him I was pregnant with you?"

"No. Maybe. Yes. I don't know."

Alma took Kelly's hands in her, making her meet her gaze. "Whatever choice he makes, Dane has a right to know. You need to tell him."

"And if he runs?"

Her mother drew a deep breath before answering. "You'll survive. I did."

A memory twisted through Kelly's gut.
Whatever falls into my lap, I check it out.
He'd said that and there was something entirely too temporary-sounding in that statement.

"Besides," her mother said, "Dane might surprise you. He might be more ready for a family than you think."

"Sure," Kelly said. "Just give me some time to figure out how to tell him."

And time to figure out whether I'm willing to settle for being
checked out.

#

Kelly let work occupy her for the next few days, hoping an answer would come to her as to whether or not to tell Dane. It didn't. Of course such a decision wouldn't come so easily.

At shift's end on the fourth day, sequestered in her bedroom, she searched for the answers she needed. With cell in hand, she scrolled back through the string of texts she'd saved on her phone to the first four Dane had sent her after leaving her at the cabin their last day together.

At highway. Miss u already.

In town at stop light. Still missing u. Do u miss me?

At Marquette airport and missing u like hell. Y AREN'T U TEXTING ME?

Just figured out y u haven't texted me. Ur probably still at camp out of cell phone range. U probably haven't even gotten any of my texts yet. Flight about 2 take off. Must shut off electronics. Miss u bad.

When she'd finally checked her phone that day and found all those "Miss yous," she'd been giddy as a school girl. Of course the infatuation was still fresh. That's what she'd thought at the time. She'd still been willing to live the fantasy rather than the reality.

She scrolled forward to the first text after she'd responded to his first four.

Luv that u miss me, 2.

He'd used the word
love
. But he'd never said he loved her. But that would have been a stretch even for a fantasy. They'd been
together
ten days.

She opened her laptop, scanned past his initial emails from Hollywood that told of boring meetings, and brought up his first email from abroad.

First day of shooting. Guess who's on the production crew? Luka, my friend from Lithuania. Remember me telling you about him?

She remembered all right. She remembered him telling her how Luka had stepped on a mine running into a field for Dane's soccer ball…how Dane had gone after him and applied a tourniquet. That Dane could have been lost that day still made her gut twist. But, that Luka survived—that he seemed to have flourished, judging by Dane's excited description of reuniting with him, made her smile.

She read on, feeling his excitement as he wrote about the special effects planned for the project and how good it felt to be back in action again.

Didn't realize how much I missed rolling around in dirt until I was back doing it. Of course, it's nowhere near as much fun as rolling around in bed with you.

Her stomach pinched at the reminder of what it was like to have him inside her…and holding her and kissing her.

Tomorrow we're shooting a scene where I have to dive into a lake to avoid getting shot. Remember our swim? Remember what the cold water did to your body? I can still taste you between my lips.

Without thought, she touched herself and found her breasts had responded to his mere reminder of that day.

Remember how fast I ran after your bare ass into that cold lake? I'm using that memory tomorrow as motivation. Don't want to suffer through too many takes where a cold lake is concerned.

She remembered frowning the first time she'd read that passage, unsure how to take his reference to using that incident as motivation to
minimize
the number of takes he'd have to
suffer through.
But his next line had chased away her doubts.

Though, for you, Kel, there's no limit to how many times I'd run into a freezing lake.

This was the kind of talk that made her want to call Dane and share the happy news of their pregnancy. But she was a woman of reason, trained to not make assumptions without all the evidence. Besides, if she looked beyond the words, there
was
all that excitement for being back on a shoot.

She closed that first email and scrolled down the list to one from the middle of the second week.

The director took my cell away from me today like I was a school kid. I'd shut off the ringer. I wasn't even keeping it on me. I even kept it off camera. But he said the way I kept checking it between takes was distracting to everybody. 'Suppose I could pull the demanding star act and walk off. But it's not in me to make the whole crew suffer. So, no more mid-take tweets from me. Sorry.

She chuckled, same as she had the first time she'd read the message. He really was such a boy.

Kelly sobered. That was the question, wasn't it? Was the boy man enough to deal with fatherhood in the midst of a rising career that excited him?

She caught the last line before she shut down the email.

I wish I'd stolen one of those little cotton camisoles of yours so I could smell you right now.

Her cheeks warmed. How could he still have this effect on her eight weeks later with thousands of miles between them?

Pregnant. Hormone overload. Of course.

Which is why she wasn't looking at more of the saved text messages from him. They were full of "miss yous" and veiled innuendoes that would only make her miss him more. And missing him would get in the way of reason. And reason relied on facts—facts she'd glean from his emails.

She scrolled down to an email four weeks into their separation. More talk about his day on the set and the progress of the onsite shoots. Not that that meant much. She wrote him about her workday as well. And he was still playing the
remember when we…
game. Though, in this email, he'd begun the question game.

What's your favorite color? I thought mine was blue. But I've grown partial to hazel with hints of green, as in a certain pair of bright, hazel eyes.

He wrote such beautiful things to her. He'd said such amazing things to her. The kinds of things that made a woman feel cherished, desired…loved. Yet, he'd never said he loved her.

But, neither had she.

She'd fallen for him almost from the first time he'd taken her to the moon and stars. It'd happened so fast, she saw now how she'd tried to dismiss it as lust.

But, in mere days, she'd learned enough about the man to know what she felt wasn't lust, but love. Maybe it was the same for him. Maybe what made him hesitate was the same thing holding her back, the lightning quickness with which it all happened.

Then there was his latest entry.

Great news! Little sis Dixie is pregnant!

She closed the lid on her laptop. She knew what she had to do. She'd call him tonight. Might as well face her father with the news today as well.

#

Kelly found her father in his recliner in the living room, some game show on the television.

"Where's mom?" she asked.

"Grocery shopping."

She thought for a moment about waiting for her mother to return before telling her father about the pregnancy. Mom had a way of calming Dad when he got riled, and her news wasn't likely to make him happy.