Once Upon a Pregnancy

No pink dot yet, though.

Maybe it had been stress. Maybe her conscience and her imagination had become a tag team and were really doing a number on her, punishing her for allowing herself one little sexual fantasy.

After all, she and Mike had used condoms, but, looking back, she had to admit they’d gotten a little careless with their use as the night wore on.

She blew out a sigh, then glanced at her wristwatch, realizing it was silly to second-guess the test results when she’d know for sure in a few more minutes.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t the kind of woman she’d pretended to be and couldn’t help feeling foolish for her lack of self-control.

Over the past five weeks, she’d rationalized about what she’d done at least a hundred times, telling herself she was a healthy woman with sexual needs that hadn’t been satisfied in a long time. And that she couldn’t help having a one-night stand with the dark-haired paramedic who was too sexy for his own good—or rather, for her own good.

But Mike O’Rourke was five years her junior. And he deserved a girl his own age, a younger woman who shared his white-picket-fence dreams.

Now, here Simone was, facing the reality of her champagne-induced mistake.

If her suspicion was right, if she was pregnant, she would make an appointment with Mark Kipper, one of the doctors in the Walnut River OB/GYN Medical Group. She was determined to do whatever it took to make sure the child was as healthy as possible.

A thump sounded against the door, followed by a bark and a whine.

“Hold on, Woofer,” she told the big, clumsy mutt who demanded her time when she was home. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Each day after a trying but satisfying shift at the hospital, she went home and was met at the gate by the ugly but lovable dog she’d adopted through an animal-rescue group.

Finding Woofer and bringing him home had been a fluke that had proven to be a blessing for both woman and dog, even if there were times she missed her privacy and freedom.

But at least she could put Woofer out in the backyard to entertain himself with butterflies and chew toys while she was at work. She certainly couldn’t do that with a baby.

Simone took a good hard look at the testing apparatus that held the answer to the question that had been haunting her since the morning she’d awakened in Mike’s arms.

As a mental clock ticktocked in her brain, she watched the little pink dot grow darker by the moment. Then she blew out a ragged sigh of resignation.

She was pregnant.

With Mike O’Rourke’s baby.

What the hell was she going to do?

There was no telling how the handsome paramedic was going to feel about this. She suspected the news might blow that crush to kingdom come—a good thing, actually. But still, Simone was in no hurry to tell him.

“Ar-oof.” Woofer’s tail thump, thump, thumped against the door. “Ar-oof, ar-oof.”

That darn dog could be such a baby sometimes.

In fact, he was the only baby a woman like Simone ought to have. Which was why there was only one option for her to consider…adoption.

As she watched the dot turn a deeper shade of pink, her uneasiness grew by leaps and bounds.

Mike wanted more out of their professional relationship than friendship, and ever since they’d made love, he’d been even more determined than ever to be a part of her life.

If he weren’t such a nice guy, if he didn’t make her laugh like no one else could, she would have given him the cold shoulder and completely shut him out until he saw reason and left her alone.

It was a ploy she had perfected in the past, an easy ruse that had come with the old baggage she carried from childhood.

But she’d never been able to fully shoot an icy glare at Mike. He’d just been too sweet, too charming.

Another thump sounded on the bathroom door, followed by a loud bark. “Okay, Woofer. We’ll take a walk. Just give me a—”

The doorbell rang, and Woofer took off, howling up a storm, his paws clomping across the hardwood floor of the small, cozy house.

“Oh, great,” she muttered, assuming a neighbor or possibly a salesman was at the door. “I’m coming!”

She left the pregnancy test in the bathroom, its pink dot shining like a beacon, and headed for the entry, where she would have to run interference between the person knocking and her four-legged roommate.

Woofer might look and sound like one heck of a guard dog, when in truth, he was a real softie. If confronted with a burglar, he’d probably knock him to the floor and lick him to death.

When she reached the door and peered through the peephole at the man on the front porch, instant recognition caused her heart to drop to the pit of her stomach.

There stood Mike O’Rourke, as big and gorgeous as you please. He wore a pair of faded Levi’s, a navy-blue T-shirt that displayed a white Walnut River Fire Department logo across his chest and a heart-stopping grin.

In his hands, he held a cardboard box.

What was he doing here?

“Just a minute.” She grabbed Woofer’s collar and pulled him back so she could get a hold of the knob. Hopefully, the screen door would prevent the dog from dive-bombing Mike and knocking him on his butt, which more than one E.R. nurse had admired behind his back—a butt that Simone had learned was even more noteworthy bare.

She swung open the wooden door, leaving the screen to separate them.

Mike, with his black hair stylishly mussed and his green eyes sparkling, shifted the box he held from one side to the other. “I brought you something. Can you put Woofer in the backyard for a couple of minutes?”

He’d brought her something?

Well, it certainly wasn’t flowers. Or chocolate, which seemed like the kind of romantic gift he might offer her.

“Give me a minute, will you?” She grabbed Woofer by the collar again. “I’ll be right back.” Then she led the dog to the kitchen and opened the back door, encouraging him to romp in the yard.

But Woofer wasn’t happy about missing the excitement of having a guest, and Simone, on the other hand, wasn’t all that thrilled about having Mike O’Rourke stop by, especially today.

Of course, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to sit outside with Mike on the front porch for a little while and chat.

But when she heard the hinges of the screen door creak open, followed by footsteps on the hardwood floor, her senses reeled and her tummy took a tumble.

She didn’t need to consult a psychologist or social worker to figure out why.

Not with that home pregnancy test propped up on her bathroom counter, the results as obvious as a pink neon sign.

Mike couldn’t imagine that Simone had expected him to stand on the stoop like a pizza deliveryman. And although she hadn’t exactly invited him into the house, she was putting Woofer in the backyard, and she’d said she would be right back.

So he’d entered the living room, took a seat on the pale green sofa and waited for her to return.