The Baby Bargain (18 page)

So Ben took over the driving lessons. As it turned out, Dan was home more often than not when Ben came to pick her up. Ben was an old friend, a good friend. And it was really great that he was doing such a good job of teaching Kelly to drive. So why was it that he'd like nothing better than to land good friend Ben a punch on the nose everytime he saw Kelly going off with him?

Dan restrained the urge, showing nothing but enthusiasm over Kelly's progress. And when she passed her driver's test the first time through, no one could have been happier than Dan. Seeing the feeling of accomplishment that made her eyes glow, Dan promptly forgave Ben for interfering and invited him to the celebration dinner.

But there had been a specific method to Ben's madness in interfering as he had. If Dan didn't have the sense to recognize what was under his nose, a little nudge had seemed in order. From the green glow in Dan's eyes everytime Kelly returned from her lesson, Ben had reason to hope that maybe his friend wasn't as dense as he'd been acting lately.

So he bowed out of the celebration dinner, hoping that, given some time alone and a congenial atmosphere, maybe the two of them could see what was so obvious to him.

It was the first time in her life that Kelly had been to an elegant restaurant. As she walked in on Dan's arm, she half expected to see the other patrons giving her sidelong glances as if wondering what she was doing there. But the only looks she noticed were one or two admiring female glances directed toward Dan. Despite herself, she felt a small glow of possessive pride.

There were also several approving looks thrown Kelly's way. And if Kelly was oblivious to them, Dan was not. He'd never thought of himself as the possessive sort until now. But seeing the admiration in other men's eyes, he was torn between a definite pride and the urge to throw a blanket over Kelly's head to keep their eyes off her.

"You're drawing a bit of attention," he said, after they were seated.

"I am?" She looked uneasy, her small spurt of self-confidence ebbing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Dan said, laughing.

"Then why am I drawing attention?"

"Because you look beautiful."

She couldn't have looked more surprised if a chimpanzee had leaped onto the table and started to sing.

"Don't be silly." Rather than reassure her, the compliment seemed to make her even more uneasy.

"I'm not," Dan protested. "You look beautiful tonight."

"It's just the dress," she said uncomfortably. "It's lovely."

"The dress is nice but that's not what all the men were looking at."

"Men were looking at me?" She was torn between disbelief and a surge of purely feminine pleasure.

"Well, I hope they weren't looking at me," Dan said dryly. "You looked in the mirror. Didn't you see how you looked?"

She lowered her eyes, her fingers shifting the silverware. "I look okay."

"You look beautiful. Don't argue," he said when she opened her mouth to do just that. "The only polite way to deal

with a compliment is to accept it graciously. Say 'thank you,' Kelly."

For a moment, he thought she was going to protest again. She must have decided it was a losing battle, though he didn't think she was any closer to believing she was beautiful.

"Thank you, Kelly," she parroted. Though her eyes were demurely lowered, there was a tuck in her cheek that was pure mischief. Dan wondered what she'd do if he were to lean across the table and kiss that hint of a smile from her mouth. He pushed the thought away, reminding himself that he shouldn't even be thinking such things.

Maybe it was just the lingering effects of having accomplished a major milestone in her life that made the evening seem almost blessed. Kelly certainly preferred to believe it was the new driver's license tucked snugly in her purse that gave everything a rosy glow, rather than to think that it was the company.

The evening couldn't have gone more perfectly if it had been part of a movie script. The service was wonderful, the food was better and the ambience was relaxed and intimate. Until now, the closest Kelly had been to ambience was a vase of plastic flowers set on a peeling table in a diner.

They talked mostly of unimportant things, avoiding anything too personal by mutual, unspoken consent Dan told her some of his dreams for the newly revived Remington Construction. He wanted to build a reputation for quality as opposed to quantity. Not the largest number of houses or the fastest to go up, but the best houses and the ones that would still be standing in a hundred years.

They were lingering over dessert when Dan broke off in the middle of a sentence and laughed self-consciously.

"I've been rambling on for hours. You must be sick of hearing about this whole thing."

"I like hearing people talk about their dreams. You can learn a lot about someone by learning about their dreams." Kelly took a last bite of chocolate mousse pie and set down her fork, sure that she could never eat another bite.

"What about your dreams, Kelly? What do you dream of doing?"

A real family. A home. Someone to love who loved her.

Those weren't the kind of dreams he was talking about. She shrugged.

"I always thought that if I could have any job in the world, I'd want to be a librarian."

"A librarian? You mean stout shoes, ankle-length dresses and hair screwed in a knot?" Dan sat back in his chair, eyeing her as if trying to picture her as he'd described.

Kelly chuckled. "It must have been a while since you were in a library."

"Not since college," he agreed, nodding his thanks to the waiter as his coffee was refilled.

"Librarians aren't all maiden ladies anymore, if they ever were."

"I'm sure they're not. I just remember the stern looks I used to get. Why a librarian? I mean, as opposed to a rocket scientist?"

"For one thing, I don't have a technical turn of mind, which would make rocket science a poor choice." Her smile became more wistful. "Besides, I've always loved libraries. They're so peaceful. And some of my best friends have been books. Come to think of it, just about all my friends have been books." Her smile took any hint of self-pity from her words. "I always thought the best job in the world would be working with books all day."

"So why not do it?"

Kelly looked at Dan to see if he was making fun of her. There was nothing but honest inquiry in his eyes. Her laughter held an edge of self-deprecation.

"I don't think a pregnant high-school dropout is a good candidate for college." She stopped, aware that it was the first time she'd referred to her pregnancy so casually.

"I don't see why not," Dan said, apparently unaware that she'd said anything significant.

"Even if I had the money, I don't have a high-school diploma."

"You could take an equivalency exam," he suggested.

"I could, but I've probably forgotten everything I ever knew. Even if I did pass, colleges aren't all that easy to get into these days. Anyway, it was just one of those childish fantasies. Most girls dream of being cheerleaders or movie stars, I was just a little weird."

Dan let the subject drop, but he filed it away for future consideration.

Driving home, they spoke little, but it was a comfortable silence, without undercurrents. Kelly was pleasantly tired and more content than she'd ever been in her life.

It was after ten when they got back to the apartment. Kelly stifled a yawn as they climbed the stairs. The click of Dan's key in the lock sounded too loud in the quiet courtyard.

"Here, I'll hang up your coat."

"Thank you." Kelly loosened the oversize button that held the coat together, feeling the brush of Dan's hands as he lifted it from her shoulders. She turned toward him as he hung her coat on a hook in the hall closet before slipping off his own jacket.

"I had a wonderful time," she said, pitching her voice low in deference to the hour, though there was no one but the two of them to be disturbed.

"I did, too." Dan pushed the closet door shut and turned to smile at her.

He hadn't bothered to turn on the hall light, relying on the illumination provided by the lamp they'd left burning in the living room. The dim light seemed to play tricks with the imagination, turning the plain little hall into an intimate setting.

Kelly was suddenly vividly aware of Dan's size, the width of his shoulders, the way he towered over her. She hadn't realized how close they were when she'd turned. Only inches separated them and he was too close, too large, too male. She could smell his after-shave, something crisp and tantalizing.

She saw his hand lift, moving as if in slow motion toward her face. She wanted to move away but her feet didn't seem to be cooperating. His palm was pleasantly rough against her cheek and she felt her eyelids drooping as she leaned into the light touch.

Dan wondered how it was possible for someone's skin to feel so incredibly soft. He could feel the brush of her hair where it swung forward against her cheek and his hand slipped to the back of her neck, losing itself in the silk of her hair.

He lowered his head slowly, aware of the fragility of the moment, of how little it would take to frighten her. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted her to lean into him; he wanted her to melt for him.

She trembled at the first touch of his mouth against hers but she didn't draw back. He deepened the kiss slowly, feeling her mouth quiver and then soften for him. She swayed as if her knees were unsteady and he slid his arm around her waist.

Her hands came up to rest against his chest. He could feel the tension in them and knew she was a breath away from pushing herself free. If she did, he was sure he'd crack into a thousand pieces. Communicating only by touch, he tried, with mouth and hands, to still her fears, to reassure her uncertainties.

For a trembling moment, he wasn't sure she'd understood and then her hands slowly slid up his chest to his shoulders. She took a tiny step forward and Dan's arm tightened around her, drawing her the rest of the way.

She felt right in his arms, right with her mouth all soft and shaking beneath his. His tongue traced her lower lip, half plea, half command, and her mouth opened for him. He slipped inside, taking possession, making her his. She made a tiny sound that was part moan, part plea, and melted into him, her hands slipping up to twine in the soft hair at the base of his neck.

This was the way it was meant to be. Dan could feel it deep in his soul. This was how it had been on New Year's Eve. She'd felt like this then, as if his arms had been waiting for her to fill them. His hands slid down her sides, pulling her still closer. Holding her like this, he could feel the slight thickening at her waist, visible proof that she carried his child.