A Baby of Her Own

“Collect yourself? Why? We just got here.”

“I want to sit back and check out the scene, all right? Can I have some say over what happens tonight?”

“I guess.” Rebecca conceded this small victory to Delaney by finally taking a seat, but that didn’t stop her from looking over her shoulder every few seconds at the guy they’d spotted when they first came in.

“Would you quit being so obvious?” Delaney muttered. There were only twelve or fourteen other people in the whole place, mostly along the perimeter, but Delaney felt as if they were all staring at her. “You’re drawing too much attention!”

“I’m not drawing attention. That dress is drawing attention. I’m just making sure our man doesn’t go anywhere while you ‘collect’ yourself. He’s so hot. He looks just like Hugh Jackman, don’t you think? I love the way his hair curls above his collar.”

The guy at the bar did look like Hugh Jackman. He had coffee-colored eyes and hair, with short sideburns. Plus high cheekbones, a narrow nose and square jaw. His body type seemed similar, too—all muscle and no fat. But that was half the problem. Why did Rebecca have to choose someone so intimidating?

“If you think he’s so cute, you sleep with him,” Delaney grumbled.

“I’m not the one who wants a baby,” Rebecca reminded her. “At least, I’m not in any hurry.”

Because Rebecca wasn’t the one who’d been taken in but not legally adopted, who was going to be alone, who’d always been alone. “Well, I’m not ready for this,” Delaney said. “We should’ve waited until tomorrow night or next week or—”

“Or never? You would’ve chickened out. I know you. You would’ve started thinking about how unfair it is not to be completely up front about your intentions and—”

“Because it is unfair.”

“Except that it won’t cost the guy you sleep with anything to make you the happiest woman on earth.” Rebecca checked over her shoulder again. “Now, go talk to him.”

Delaney’s stomach plummeted to her knees. “Just like that?”

“Why not? What are you waiting for?”

A personality transplant. This just wasn’t her. She’d never come on to a guy before. Which was probably why she’d die a virgin if she didn’t make some changes soon, she told herself. Rebecca had managed to find a husband and was going to get married. Maybe she should take Rebecca’s advice on this. But why did her friend have to choose a guy who looked like he could be Hugh Jackman’s twin brother?

“He’s at the bar,” she told Rebecca. “A guy who sits at the bar is interested in serious drinking, not socializing. We’d better find someone else.” But when Delaney surveyed the lounge, she realized how hopeless that would be. Of the fourteen or so patrons, more than half were women. The men consisted of an elderly gentleman, a barrel-chested, bearded guy somewhere in his forties, two nerdy computer types who had their hair greased down and gave Delaney the creeps, and a redneck cowboy sitting next to the Hugh Jackman look-alike.

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow at her. “If there’s someone here you’d rather sleep with, go for it. But it looks to me like Hugh’s our most eligible donor. He’s only drinking a beer. That’s hardly ‘serious drinking.’ And he seems friendly enough. He sort of smiled when we came in.”

“Sort of smiled? He ducked his head and turned away the second you zeroed in on him.”

“Well, he definitely smiled at us in the mirror afterward.”

Delaney didn’t remember a smile. She remembered his eyes, though. They’d followed her, appraised her boldly.

“Go,” Rebecca prodded. “The worst that can happen is he tells you he’s married. Then you politely excuse yourself and we try someone else.”

“I’m never going to get over this experience,” Delaney moaned. “I just know it.”

“Do you want a baby or not?”

She did. And she wanted to be pregnant before Rebecca left, so she’d have something positive to look forward to.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and forced herself to approach the bar. Better to get this over and done with, right?

She saw his gaze flick over her in the mirror, guessed he’d been expecting her—and felt like a complete fool. Especially since the guy sitting next to him was watching her far more eagerly, and she knew she wouldn’t sleep with him if he was the last man on earth.

Relax. Pretend you’re someone else, someone chic and bold and—she gulped—easy.

“Hi,” she said, sliding onto the empty stool next to him. She’d been planning to order a drink to make her approach a little less obvious, but her timing wasn’t good. The bartender had turned around and was busy fiddling with the television in the corner.

She glanced forlornly at his back, then braved a smile at the man she hoped would father her child.

He studied her for several seconds before responding. “Hi,” he said, but he didn’t return her smile or swivel toward her or do anything else to encourage her. It stung Delaney’s pride enough to make her sit up and pretend confidence in what she was doing.

“You live around here?” she asked, keeping her focus strictly on him because the man in the red flannel shirt kept leaning forward to entice her with a battered grin. He might as well have been holding a sign that read “Take me,” but Delaney simply wasn’t interested. She’d do the artificial thing first.

“No, I’m just in town for the night,” the younger man said. “What about you?”

Now that she was so close, she could tell his eyes weren’t entirely brown. Gold flecks made them appear almost amber, and there was something inside them that seemed more worldly wise than Delaney would have expected for a man who seemed to be about her own age. After only a few seconds in his company, he reminded her much less of Hugh Jackman. He didn’t possess the same relaxed smile or laid-back attitude. This man came across as intense, shrewd, even unforgiving, which added significantly to Delaney’s anxiety.

I don’t have to worry about his ability to forgive. I’m never going to see him again.

His eyes fell to the cleavage revealed by her dress, and she instinctively moved to cover herself. Rebecca had insisted she go without underwear—there wasn’t any way to hide the lines and straps beneath the stretchy fabric—but the lack of her most basic apparel made her feel completely exposed. Leaning forward, she folded her arms on the bar and hid her chest behind them, just as Rebecca came to her rescue by engaging the leering cowboy and drawing him away to their table.

“I live a couple of hours from here,” she responded automatically, then wanted to kick herself for being so truthful. The less he knew about her the better.

“Oh, really? Where?” Unless it was her imagination, his voice revealed a spark of interest.

“Jerome,” she lied, picking a town on the opposite side of Boise.

“Oh.”

The spark died, and an awkward silence followed, during which Delaney curled her fingers into her palms and thought of all the ways she planned to torture Rebecca for pushing her into this. She was going to tell Buddy that Rebecca had a snoring problem. She was going to hold Rebecca to her promise to quit smoking, starting immediately. She was going to unscrew the lid on their salt shaker and—and what? Delaney couldn’t think of anything terrible enough, not while she was feeling like such a fool, but she knew Rebecca deserved whatever she came up with. If not for her, Delaney would be safe at home dreaming about a baby…and doing absolutely nothing to make it a reality.

That thought sobered her enough to keep her where she was. One night, one man, remember? No big deal.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked, finally making his way over.

Delaney ordered a club soda and opened her purse to get her money, but the man surprised her by paying for it. “What are you and your friend doing in town?” he asked, once her drink had been delivered.

Delaney took a sip and focused on his hands, which circled his beer glass. They were big, strong hands. And he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Uh, it’s a business trip,” she said.

“And you’re looking for something to relieve the boredom, is that it?”

Evidently he wasn’t much for small talk. But Delaney didn’t mind. Being direct could save a lot of time. Besides, if she had her guess, his type would be selfish and quick in the bedroom, which suited her just fine. She didn’t want to enjoy the experience. That would make what she was doing seem even worse than it already was.

“I suppose so,” she said, wishing her heart would quit jumping around in her chest. “You game?”

He took a drink of his beer. “What’s your name?”

Delaney thought about using a false name, then decided against it. She didn’t want the added worry of having to remember it, and as long as they remained on a first-name basis, she couldn’t see any harm in telling him the truth. “Delaney.”

“Delaney’s some name. And that’s some dress.”