A Wedding For Baby (Baby Boom) Page 6

  “Feel better?” Dane leaned against her bedroom door, a sandwich in his right hand. “You were seriously out of it.”

  “It’s unnerving.”

  “What?” he asked around a big bite.

  “The thought of you watching me while I’m sleeping.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I checked on you. Your eyes were closed. End of story.”

  Hearing him say it like that—so matter-of-fact—made her feel stupid. Like she was making a big deal out of nothing. But was it really nothing when just being near him made her pulse race as if she’d been jogging for an hour?

  “Earlier,” he said after finishing his last bite, “when you said I was your problem, mind telling me what you meant?”

  Suppressing a groan, Gabby rolled her eyes. “I was just in a bad mood, all right? You have to admit that this whole situation is weird. I mean, you pretty much moved yourself in. You didn’t even ask.”

  “Sorry,” he said, looking more bored than apologetic, “but it’s not like you have a lot of options.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” she snapped. Though she had Dane and his family, her new Lamaze buddies and a few friends from work, Gabby never had felt more alone. Her only real family was Kate, yet she lived too far away to be of any practical help. “Did it ever occur to you that this is hard for me? Being your charity case?”

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “That’s ridiculous. You’re pregnant with my nephew. That makes you family. I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there for you earlier.”

  His caring brought an instant knot to her throat. Swallowing, she managed to say, “None of this is your fault. Your responsibility.”

  “I get that.” Tone gentle, he added, “But what’s it hurt if I view this situation as a practice run? You know, trying to juggle a successful career and a happy home? You want the truth? That’s something I’ve never been able to do.” Sitting on the foot of her bed, he stared out her bedroom window. “No matter how hard I try, I’m all work.”

  “That’s not true,” she said, wishing she were allowed to sit up. To comfort him with a hug the way he’d soothed her with words. “Look how much time you’ve spent with me lately. Assembling the changing table. Never leaving my side at the hospital. You’ve been amazing. I don’t even know why I said what I did. Pregnancy hormones, I guess. They make me cranky.”

  As for what his nearness was doing, the heat radiating from him, she didn’t know how to compartmentalize the emotions it swelled within her. There was too much all at once.

  “Let me help with that, too,” he said, stroking her feet through her blanket in what she was sure was supposed to have been a comforting manner, but felt jarringly erotic. “What can I do to help make you un-cranky? Need ice cream? Gummie bears? Are pickles still popular with the mother-to-be crowd?”

  Grinning, she shook her head and said, “You’re lucky I’m stuck in this bed, or that comment would earn you a pillow beating.”

  “Sounds hot,” he teased, infuriating her all the more. “But seriously, anything you need done as far as getting ready for the baby? Tell me. I’ll make it happen.”

  “Thank you.” She wanted to meet his gaze but couldn’t. Something about this man she hardly knew offering her the words she’d so desperately craved hearing from his brother were her undoing. Tears stung her eyes. Hoping Dane wouldn’t see, she swiped them away.

  “What’s wrong?” Too late, he’d not only seen her tears, but edged farther up the bed. Instead of stroking her feet, his big hand now rested atop Gabby’s belly. Heat licked through her, warring with her already heightened senses.

  What was wrong? he’d asked. Try everything! It was against every notion of common decency for her to be turned on by Ben’s brother. But, in her hormone-addled mind, maybe Dane was merely a stand-in for the man she wanted him to be.

  Ha! Her conscience railed. With each passing day, out of the two Bocelli brothers, Dane was proving to be the only true man.

  “LOOK WHAT I BROUGHT ESPECIALLY for you,” Mama Bocelli said to Gabby the next morning. Dane had long since left for the courthouse, assigning Gabby’s care to his mom. Mama set a breakfast tray across Gabby’s lap, and then a silver-framed picture of a smiling Ben on her bedside table. The ham-and-cheese omelet paired with homemade croissants and fresh fruit salad had looked and smelled amazing. However, upon seeing Ben’s face—even in photo form—Gabby’s stomach roiled. “My boy’s such a handsome thing,” the older woman said, angling the frame just right before flicking at an invisible speck of dust marring the glass. “He’ll be back, you know. Mark my words. He’ll return just in the nick of time to share in your baby’s birth.”

  “Mama,” Gabby said, not even sure where to start. “I can’t thank you enough for this delicious meal, but the photo—of Ben—I know you meant well, but…”

  “Pooh,” Mama said, leaving the room for a minute and returning with a glass of orange juice. “I know how much he hurt you, sweetheart, but even you must know he cares. That he’ll eventually cure himself of his wanderlust, and—”

  “Please,” Gabby urged, “just leave it alone. I’m fine without Ben. Dane is—”

  “Dane is a dear boy for coddling his mother’s wishes, but ultimately, he’s not your baby’s father.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Besides which, Dane is hardly a boy. He’s a fully grown man who…” What? Has cared for me more in the past month than Ben did in the year we’d dated?

  “I’m sorry,” Mama said uncharacteristically—apologizing for her wrongdoings had never been a strong point. “Vincent is all the time telling me to mind my own business. But when you were last over for dinner, I couldn’t help but notice the sadness in your eyes.” Patting Gabby’s hand in the Bocelli way, she said, “I want to help. Please let me help.”

  How was Gabby supposed to reply? On the one hand, she’d never needed assistance more in her life. On the other, constantly being reminded of the mistake she’d made in ever having fallen for a guy like Ben couldn’t be healthy—for her or her unborn child.

  “Of course I’d love for you to help,” Gabby said, trying to keep her tone gracious instead of impatient. “It’s just that it’s hard, you know. Going from being independent to being waited on hand and foot. I’m not used to it.” I miss my privacy. Nursing my emotional wounds on my own terms. Not having Dane hovering. Making me crazy with his intense gaze.

  “Sweetheart,” Mama said with a cluck. “Before you know it, our baby boy will be here and your roles will be reversed. You will be constantly caring for him. What harm is there in taking this sliver of time for yourself? Let the people who love you pamper you. Really, it’s okay. Ask me, you’ve always tried doing too much on your own.”

  And there you had it. The world according to Mama Bocelli. If only letting go were as simple as the older woman made it seem.

  “I TOTALLY GET WHERE YOU’RE coming from,” Stephanie said the next day at lunch, eating a messy duplicate of the meatball sub she’d brought Gabby. Next to the armchair, Mama Bocelli had set up a side table to accommodate visitors and an army of friends and neighbors who had worked out a food-delivery schedule. While it warmed Gabby through and through to be the recipient of such good will, she hadn’t entirely adjusted to the situation. “Having some guy just move in would be tough, but I can think of worse things.” Stephanie’s latest bite cascaded marinara sauce atop her bulging belly. Lucky for her, in anticipation of making a mess, she’d piled napkins over the area most likely to be dribbled upon. “Especially considering how criminally hot the man is.”

  “Stop,” Gabby pleaded, hoping her blush was only on the inside. “Dane’s not exactly hard on the eyes, but—”

  “Oh, no. You’re not honestly going to sit there, denying you and the judge share a certain chemistry, are you?”

  “We do not!” Gabby shrieked. “I got knocked up by his brother. All he feels for me is a sense of family duty. As for what I feel for him?” The spicy marinara sauce bubb
led up her throat. “It’s complicated.”

  “Uh-huh.” Grinning, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll give you that. Don’t think Olivia and I didn’t notice the way the man hovered over you at the hospital. To anyone who didn’t know the truth of your situation, they’d think Dane was your baby’s father.”

  BORED OUT OF HER GOURD, having watched an all-day marathon of a fashion-design reality competition that she’d already seen the first time the show had aired, Gabby was drifting off for her tenth nap when a key jostling the front-door lock jolted her awake.

  “Hello?” Dane called.

  Anticipation made Gabby feel like a wriggling happy puppy. “I’m in the backyard,” she called. “You know, just mowing and trimming a few trees.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, casting her a lethally potent smile. He carried two bags. One, glossy black paper—the kind with handles and a decorative fluff of hot-pink tissue paper that looked as if it was from an exclusive boutique. The other was flimsy plastic, bulging with colorful items she could see but not identify. “You set one pretty foot near a tree, and I’ll chop it off.”

  “Ouch.” She smirked. “Are caretakers supposed to threaten violence?”

  “When they have poorly behaved patients such as yourself—yes. Now, which present do you want first?”

  “You shouldn’t have brought me anything.” Though she felt obligated to protest his actions, she secretly couldn’t wait to see what was in the bags.

  “Seeing how poorly you treat me, you’re right. But since I braved hellacious traffic on the off chance of making you smile, pick what you want to open.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Having always been a firm believer in saving the best for last, she pointed to the less elaborate of the two bags. “I’ll take that.”

  Handing it to her, he said, “I asked around the courthouse what kinds of things most women enjoyed doing during their last few weeks of pregnancy, and this hobby won. Plus, I noticed how you have a thing for cookies….” He shrugged. His expression was one she hadn’t seen before. Expectation? Worry over whether or not she’d like his gift? The Dane she’d once known wouldn’t have cared.

  Pulling out a cross-stitch kit, she beamed. “I’ve been meaning to get one of these, but never had the time. I tried it once, but the result was a disaster.”

  “I remember.” Setting the fancier bag on the chair beside her bed, he shoved his hands in his suit pants pockets. “One Sunday, you and Ben showed up for a family dinner. You had a bandage on your right index finger. My brother said it was from you pricking yourself with a tapestry needle.”

  “H-how did you…” Surprise at his observation stopped her from finishing the sentence. She remembered, too. The way Dane hadn’t said more than two words to her throughout the entire meal. Then he’d excused himself before dessert, claiming he had to study up for his next day’s case.

  Tapping his temple, he smiled. “I’ve always had a knack for remembering the little things.”

  “That’s probably part of what makes you a great judge,” she said, smoothing her hands along the cool outer wrap of his gift. The picture was of a Blue-Willow-patterned cookie jar set upon a lacy cloth-covered table. Saucers of chocolate chip, oatmeal and what looked to be lemon bar cookies surrounded the jar. A crystal vase brimming with old-fashioned red roses provided just the right pop of color. Included in the kit were plenty of color-coded embroidery floss and several tapestry needles. “Really, Dane, I, well, this means a lot. It was incredibly thoughtful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His oddly formal head bow made her think he felt embarrassed by the praise. “Want your other gift?” He wagged the shiny black bag.

  “Yes, please.” Removing the tissue revealed a sumptuous pair of bubble-gum-pink satin maternity pj’s. She couldn’t imagine where he’d found them. “These are…How?” Grinning up at him, she shook her head. “Dane Bocelli, you are some piece of work.”

  “Like them?”

  “Love them. Come here.” She held out her arms.

  “What?” His furrowed forehead told her the last thing he wanted to do was meet her for a hug.

  Ramming his hands in his pockets, he said, “Thanks, but I, ah, wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me? That’s silly.” What hurt was the fact that he apparently didn’t want to touch her.

  He shrugged. “What do you want for dinner? Mama was going to bring us something, but I told her you were on some special diet.”

  “Why’d you tell her that?”

  Turning his back to her, he said, “Well, you know I love my family, but I didn’t want Mama and Nana and Pops over here all night. I’ve got briefs to read and laundry to do and—”

  “Know what really sounds good?” Gabby said, still miffed by his slight but completely on board with his decision to indulge in a Mama-free night.

  “What?” Expression wary, he glanced over his shoulder.

  “Relax,” she said with a forced smile, trying to forgive him. “In light of how much work you have to do, and how I can think of nothing more pleasant than changing into my new pj’s and starting my cross-stitch project, I was only going to suggest you make use of the Chinese delivery menu conveniently located in the kitchen junk drawer.”

  “Need help changing?”

  “Oh—you think I’m too fragile for a hug, but now, you’re only too willing help me off with my clothes?”

  He ducked his gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that….”

  “I know. I’m kidding.”

  Judging by his glare, he hadn’t gotten the joke.

  Chapter Six

  IN THE KITCHEN, DANE RELEASED the breath he’d been holding for what felt like the past twenty minutes. He went through the motions of ordering dinner. From their post-Lamaze outings, he already knew Gabrielle’s favorites. Once that task was completed, he headed to the guest bedroom where he’d set up a temporary office.

  He booted up his laptop, took the files he needed from his briefcase, then he sat and stared at the screen.

  “Gabrielle?” he called over the techno theme songs of one of her reality shows.

  “Yes?” she shouted in return.

  “Need anything?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Damn. Why, he couldn’t say, but the woman had become a welcome distraction. Shopping for her had been the most fun he’d had in months. Seeing her smile upon opening her gifts—better than Christmas morning.

  As for her wanting a hug?

  Torture. She’d no doubt meant it as a friendly thank-you gesture. Which, ordinarily, would’ve been no big deal. But something about her had been different. Her mussed hair and makeup-free complexion had caught him off guard. Somehow, seeing her in her usual neat and tidy garb made her unapproachable. This new look was infinitely more appealing. Invoking crazy urges to pull her onto his lap and do nothing all night but cuddle and eat Chinese food and watch movies. If a few kisses accidentally happened, so much the better.

  Conking his forehead with his palm, hoping for clarity, he only grew more confused. Caring for her was supposed to have been no big deal. He hadn’t expected mental flashes of her to pop into his head while court had been in session. He hadn’t thought shopping for her would be more satisfying than reading the Law Review.

  “Dane?” she called.

  “Yeah?” he said, already on his feet, hating the rush of excitement that stemmed from just hearing her call his name. “What’s up?”

  “You’re probably going to think this sounds goofy,” she said, squinting while threading her embroidery needle, “but—”

  “Try me.”

  Her shy smile lit his world. “I’m lonely. I know you have to work, but would you mind bringing your laptop in here?”

  ALL THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Dane worked diligently to stay focused while in court, but on recess, thoughts of Gabrielle consumed him. What was she doing at that very moment? Which of her friends had stopped by with lunch?

  Somewhere along the line, hanging
out with her had stopped being a chore and started being a pleasure. He liked thinking about what to prepare her for dinner, and what they might talk about during their meal.

  By the time he’d finished at the courthouse, and then hit the grocery store to pick up Gabrielle’s favorite herbal tea, it was pushing six.

  “Dane? That you?” Gabrielle called from the bedroom.

  “None other,” he answered.

  “Come see me! I’m bored!”

  On the way to her room, he ditched his briefcase, undid his top shirt button and loosened his tie. He smiled when he saw her. “Woman, you’re a mess. You look like you’re ready to be on some weird parade float a bunch of kids decorated with their mothers’ embroidery floss.”

  The contents of the craft kit he’d purchased for her littered the bed and the enormous mound created by her bulging stomach. Her long hair was half up in a ponytail; the rest tumbled every which way about her shoulders and cheeks and forehead. Top all of that with her pink satin pj’s and glowing complexion, and he’d never seen her look prettier. Like a rumpled fairy princess.

  “Did I really ask you to come in here?” Her Highness sassed. “After that derogatory observation, you can turn right back around.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry,” he said, planting a chaste kiss to the crown of her head. “I meant it all in good fun. Now, how about a change of scenery?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How about I carry you into the living room, so that we can talk while I make dinner?”

  “I can walk, you know.” She graced him with the pout he now recognized as the first sign of her displeasure. The pout he could deal with. It was when she full-on frowned he knew he was in real trouble.