44 Cranberry Point

He released her and immediately started undressing.

“You want me to put on that black nightie for you?” she asked.

“Next time,” Ian said, his breathing shallow as he sat on the bed and quickly removed his shoes.

“One more thing…”

He gave her a questioning glance.

She knelt behind him on the bed and rested her chin on his bare shoulder. “I think there’s something you should know.”

“It can’t wait?”

“Well, it could, but I figure this is something you might want to know.”

“What?” he growled, turning toward her. He grabbed her around the waist, and his dark eyes bore into hers.

Cecilia smiled at her husband, smoothing her hands down his muscular shoulders, loving the feel of him. “I’m thinking this afternoon would be a wonderful time to make a baby.”

Ian’s eyes flared briefly. “I thought you were on the pill.”

Her smile broadened as she slowly shook her head. “Not anymore. I tossed them into the garbage six months ago.”

He frowned.

“With you at sea, there wasn’t any need for me to be on birth control. Besides-”

“You didn’t start again when you knew I was coming home?”

“Nope.”

“But-but you knew when I was due back.”

“I did…and I’ve been greatly anticipating your homecoming,” she purred.

“But, sweetheart, you never said a word! I don’t have anything to protect you from pregnancy.”

“Who says I want protection? What I want, sailor man,” she whispered, “is a baby.”

Ian went completely still.

“Ian?”

Her husband straightened, sitting on the side of the bed with his back to her. “Don’t you think this is something we should’ve discussed first?”

“We’re…we’re discussing it now.”

“At the last possible moment.”

“You don’t want a baby?”

Ian stood then and faced her. His shoulders were bare and his pants half unzipped. He rubbed his hand over his eyes as if her question had overwhelmed him. “I do want children, but not yet.”

“I thought-”

“It’s too soon, sweetheart.”

“It’s been three years.” Her desire for a child had grown progressively stronger in the months Ian had been at sea. It made sense to complete her schooling before getting pregnant again, but she’d done that and found a wonderful job. “I’m ready, Ian.”

His shoulders sagged. “I’m not…I can’t risk getting you pregnant.” He zipped his pants and picked up his shirt, yanking it on and shoving his arms into the sleeves. He fastened the buttons with record speed and scooped the car keys from the dresser.

Cecilia bit her lip. He was right; she should’ve mentioned it earlier. They’d communicated almost daily via e-mail, and phone calls whenever possible. There’d been ample opportunity to discuss the matter long before his arrival home.

Ian walked out of the bedroom, then turned back at the door. “Stay right there,” he said, pointing in her direction.

“Where are you going?”

His laugh was weak with impatience. “To the drugstore. Stay where you are, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

It felt as if the sun had disappeared behind a dark cloud.

Perhaps, deep down, Cecilia had known this would be Ian’s reaction. Her husband was afraid of another pregnancy, afraid of what it would do to her physically and what it might do to them as a couple.

Cecilia understood why he felt that way because she’d faced those same fears herself. She’d believed-or wanted to believe-that Ian, too, had moved past them. Apparently she’d been wrong.

Chapter Three

With a sense of joy and celebration, Maryellen Sherman carried the heavy cardboard box out of her rental house and set it in the trunk of her car. Soon she’d be living with Jon Bowman-married to him.

After all this time it hardly seemed possible. The barriers between them had been lowered. No longer could she disguise her love for him. Nor did she have to; they’d admitted their feelings for each other. The misunderstandings were over, pride and anger put aside.

Jon followed with a second box, which he set next to the first. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, silently letting her know how pleased he was that they were finally going to be together for good.

Katie, their nine-month-old daughter, slept contentedly in her crib as they brought another load out to the car, then hurried back inside the house. Maryellen realized they only had a few more minutes of peace before their daughter woke. Most of her belongings weren’t even packed.

“That’s it for now?” Jon asked, hands on hips as he glanced around the living room.

“I’ll have more later,” she promised. Maryellen had barely started packing. She’d lived in this rental house for almost twelve years and what she’d accumulated in that length of time was staggering. Sorting through clothes and books-what to keep, what to give away or throw out-had already taken weeks.

“How much more?” A note of weariness entered Jon’s voice.

“Lots. Do you want to pack up a few boxes now?” She was thinking she should probably fill up the back seat of her car before they caravanned to his home.

“What I want is to get you permanently in my house.” He sounded as impatient as she felt.

“I’m just as eager to get there.” She stepped into the compact kitchen and tried to figure out what else they should take with them this afternoon. Moving had never seemed so complicated or frustrating.

“Did you talk to your mother about a wedding date?”