The Best Of Both Worlds

“You didn’t hurt me. I told you, it feels much better.”

“In that case it must be revulsion that made you recoil. Let me put your mind at rest. I can honestly say that no woman has ever died from my touch. But don’t worry, I won’t touch you again.” Then, as if echoing her thoughts, he added, “That’s one mistake I won’t repeat.”

She waited until he was in the driver’s seat before she responded. “I believe your exact words were ‘I hope you don’t think this means anything.’ As far as lines are concerned, that one’s a gem. Not mean anything! Who do you think you are?”

“Look, I admit it was a pretty callous thing to say, and I apologize. I would have apologized sooner, but you never gave me the chance. You’re the one who ran out in the middle of the night. You’re the one who refused to talk about it.”

And you’re the one who left me alone and pregnant, she thought. She leaned back in her seat and sulked. She knew she wasn’t being fair. He’d told her he’d be returning to Phoenix. He also had no idea she was pregnant. But the way he was sitting there, so smug, so collected, trying to exonerate himself by making her feel guilty, infuriated her. “First you lure me to your apartment, then you seduce me, then you dismiss me as though I’m some little harem girl, and now you accuse me of abandoning you?”

“What are you talking about? You practically tore off my clothes right there in the elevator! We didn’t even make it to the bedroom.” He sighed. “I didn’t come after you today to pick a fight. I was hoping we could talk this out like adults, calmly and rationally. I already told you I was sorry for my crude remark. I know how it must have made you feel, but I do have an explanation.”

“Why is it men always start singing the old commitment blues after they have their way with us? Well, I have news for you. I’ve heard that song before. If it’s understanding you want, I’m the wrong audience.”

He grumbled something unintelligible and slammed the car into gear. An uncomfortable silence fell over them as they drove down the snow-bordered road. “Tell me something,” he said finally, as he flicked on the signal and turned onto her street. “Why do women think they’re the only ones allowed a moment of weakness? I know you were vulnerable that night, and I know I shouldn’t have taken you up on your offer, but—”

“My offer! Why you egotistical, self-centered, conceited—”

“You’re being redundant.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Redundant. As in superfluous. Repetitive. Pleonastic.”

Enough already! What was he, a thesaurus? “You bet I was vulnerable. You knew how I was feeling that night, and you took advantage of it. I thought you were offering consolation, not an invitation to do the horizontal bop! Before we left for your apartment, I made it clear I wasn’t going to sleep with you.”

Amusement shone in his eyes. “Your memory is faulty. As I recall, princess, you said that the only way you’d ever sleep with me was if we were driving in the middle of a blizzard, and we were forced to stop. The only shelter around for miles would be an old barn. It would be cold and desolate inside, and we’d have to huddle for warmth. Outside the storm would continue to rage, turning the landscape into a frozen wasteland. It wouldn’t just be a blizzard, it would be a disaster. Certain we’d never live to see another sunrise, we’d give in to our basic need and allow our passion to take over.”

It was obvious he was enjoying this. “Don’t mock me, Carter. I was in a highly sensitive state that night.”

“Sensitive? Tipsy would be a more apt description. I have just two questions,” he pressed on mirthlessly. “Number one, where exactly is this hypothetical barn?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a lot of difference. For instance, if there’s a barn, there’s a farmhouse nearby, and a farmer who feels sorry for us and offers us lodging. Number two, why are we out in a blizzard?”

“Maybe we’re coming back from a business trip. I don’t see what—”

“What business could we have together? You’re too busy getting fired, and the last time I checked, I was still an architect.”

“You said you had two questions. That’s three. Why do you always do that? Why do you always go on and on? All I meant by the story was—”

“Oh, I know what you meant. All that talk about huddling and need and passion—the truth is, you seduced me. But I’ll admit to my part of the blame. I should never have let it happen. Now all I want is for us to get past it. I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize my friendship with David.”

David. So this was what it was all about. She should have known. What was it about men? They made fun of women for going to the powder room in twos, yet they lived by the Eleventh Commandment, “Thou shalt not let a woman divide a man from his buddies.”

Jerk. Carter Prescott, III, still had the power to knock her socks off—and a lot more than her socks—but he was still the same jerk.

He was right about one thing, though. He shouldn’t have let it happen. But it had happened. The child she was carrying was proof.

“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it,” she said as they pulled into her driveway. “It’s not as if my brother would come after you with a shotgun.”

Carter grimaced. “No, but your father might.”

She almost laughed out loud. She could just imagine her meek, mild-mannered father, prodding Carter down the aisle with the business end of a rifle. Well, here’s a news flash, she thought. It would take more than a rifle to make her marry Carter. Or anyone else, for that matter. Marriage was an experience she had no desire to repeat.

She regarded his profile and sighed. No matter which path she chose, nothing could change the fact that Carter was the father of her child, and as much as she was determined to raise the baby alone, he had a right to know.

A shock like this would serve him right for being such a jerk.

She drew in a breath. “I have something to tell you.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, you don’t understand—”

The front door to her house opened, and David appeared on the porch. Carter rolled down the window. “Hey, Roth!” he called. “How’s it going?”

David sprinted through the snow to the driver’s side of the car. “Pres, you old son of a gun, when did you get back? Come in for a glass of wine—and stay for dinner. It’s been a while since you’ve had one of my grandmother’s feasts. Either you’re traipsing across the country or you’re out on a date. Bubbe’s cooked up a storm, chicken soup, roast brisket and potato knishes—and you can’t say no to her gefilte fish.”

Becky’s stomach turned over.

“Thanks, but I’ll have to take a rain check,” Carter said. “I’m off to my mother’s. If I don’t show up tonight for dinner, she’ll probably stay awake all night, figuring out new, inventive ways to make me crazy.”

Mothers will do that, Becky thought, opening the car door.

Gertie stepped onto the porch, wearing her lamb’s wool coat. “David!” she called, waving frantically. “Put on a jacket! It’s cold out here!”

Becky turned to Carter. “Thanks for the lift. I can manage from here.”

“Stay put. I’ll help you to the door.”

“I told you, I can manage.” She glanced over at her brother, who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence. What, was she invisible? “God forbid I should come between you and your buddy.” Before Carter could protest, she was out of the car, hobbling up the front pathway.

“Where are your boots?” Gertie scolded. “In this terrible storm you don’t wear boots? And why aren’t you wearing a hat? Get in here before you catch pneumonia. What’s the matter with you, can’t you see it’s snowing? It’s not a blizzard, it’s a disaster!”

Becky followed her mother into the house. You don’t know the half of it, she thought. If she hadn’t felt so miserable, she might have laughed.

Chapter Two

“F inally, a grandchild.” Gertie’s hands flew into the air as though she hoped to embrace the world. “But the word pregnant is so harsh-sounding. I prefer expecting. Even better, in the family way.”

“No matter what you call it,” Bubbe said, “a baby is a blessing. Have some more soup, Hannah. Now you eat for two.”

Aaron stood and raised his glass in a toast. “A finer daughter-in-law there never was. May your son be strong and healthy. May you have many more sons, and daughters, too. May all your children bring you joy. May all—”

“Sit down, Aaron,” Gertie said. “Your soup is getting cold. So, Hannah, when is the baby due?”

“According to the obstetrician, the last week in May. I wanted to tell you all sooner, but David wanted to keep it our special secret a little while longer.”