She's Having a Baby

MacKenzie had had her doubts, but had eaten the meal with surprising relish.

Finally home in her own apartment, she gathered up the containers of Chinese food and stored them in her refrigerator. After wiping off the tabletop, she went to bed.

Accustomed to tossing and turning, she dropped off immediately.

It was the doorbell that woke MacKenzie, slicing through dreams until it took on shape and form.

Reluctantly opening her eyes, MacKenzie automatically turned toward the clock on the nightstand. As she did, the thought hit her that she’d forgotten to set her alarm. The doorbell had woken her half an hour before she was due to get up.

She wasn’t sure if that was fortunate or not.

She struggled to rouse herself. Who could be at her door at this hour?

Jeff with a change of heart?

MacKenzie bolted upright, throwing the twisted covers off and hurrying into the matching half robe that had been haphazardly thrown on the edge of the covers. Abandoning the slippers that stood waiting for her feet at the foot of the bed, she groggily stumbled her way to the front door.

“You came,” she cried even before she’d finished swinging it open.

The next second, disappointment drenched her.

Waking from a deep sleep had left the remnants of a dream still hovering in her brain. On the other side of her threshold stood a half-naked Quade. Swallowing, she glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

She’d been right about his abdomen. He did have a washboard stomach. As a matter of fact, he had the kind of stomach that caused washboard manufacturers—if there was such a thing anymore—to flock to his doorstep just for a knee-disintegrating look. A pair of frayed, cutoff jeans were hanging on for dear life along hips that were taut and slim. The very sight of which would have sent scores of men rushing to their local gyms, entertaining wild delusions of imitation.