Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy

“As nice as it was, it was a one-night stand,” she said.

“No way, honey. I’m not sure how many of those you’ve had, but I can tell you from experience that first-time lovers don’t get in tune with each other’s bodies that way.”

“Okay, I admit it was good. Great, even. But a relationship between us will never work. I’m not family material, and you grew up like one of the Waltons.”

So Mike was one of five kids, and Simone didn’t have siblings. He couldn’t see a problem in that. Couples compromised all the time, learning to respect each other’s differences. Hell, his father had been raised Catholic, and his mom had been Protestant through and through. They hadn’t let it stand in their way, so he couldn’t buy that excuse.

“Do you think about it at all?” he asked. “The night we spent together?”

She didn’t answer, but he saw the struggle in her eyes. The fight between heart and mind. At least, he could swear that’s what he kept seeing in her. Normally, he knew how to cut bait and run when a woman wasn’t interested.

But his gut told him Simone was different. She wasn’t being coy or shy. Neither was she playing games.

She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. And there was only one reason she’d fight the feeling.

“Someone in the past hurt you, Simone.” His words seemed to strike some tender spot in her heart—God, he sure hoped they had, that he’d finally gotten to the bottom of whatever was standing between them.

As he studied her troubled expression, he realized his words had hit the mark.

“I’m not going to pry and dig for the truth,” he added. “But I can see it in your eyes. You’re afraid to let go and love me. But the feelings are there, brewing under the surface.”

“That’s not love, it’s lust,” she said, her voice husky with it.

“There’s that, too.” He was tempted to kiss her, long and deep and thorough, but he wasn’t at all ready to start something he couldn’t finish. Not when he had a shift starting soon. “But I’m serious about giving you the time you need.”

Then he reached for the doorknob to let himself out.

“You’re right,” she finally admitted.

He turned, his gaze snagging hers. “Right about what?”

“About me being hurt in the past, about me being afraid to get close to people. But those scars are deep and permanent.”

“Then you can’t blame me for wanting to be the guy who makes them disappear.”

They stood like that for a while, a man and a woman teetering on an emotional precipice that someone else had created.

He was sorely tempted to brush a kiss across her lips, to taunt her with memories of the sexual pleasure they’d found in each other’s arms more than a month ago. But instead, he kissed her forehead, much like his mother used to do to him and his siblings when they’d scraped an elbow or stubbed a toe.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” he said before letting himself out and closing the door behind him.

Time, he figured, was his best ally. He knew her scars were deep. He just hoped they weren’t as permanent as she wanted him to believe.

Chapter Four

Woofer found his new playmate entertaining, but when he grew tired of the puppy’s games and wanted to rest, little Wags was still going strong.

There’d been a few growls and yips and whines at first, but as the day wore on, the dogs grew more and more comfortable with each other.

So far, so good, Simone thought as she locked up the house and turned off the porch light.

Woofer usually slept in her bedroom each night, but since Wags wasn’t housebroken yet, she decided to put them both in the kitchen. One of the purchases Mike had made was a portable gate Millie Baxter had said might come in handy for separating the two, if it became necessary, and Simone had put it to good use several times.

Neither Wags nor Woofer was happy about being contained, and she hoped they would adjust soon.

After taking a nice long shower, she put on a flannel nightgown and pulled down the covers to her bed. The faint scent of laundry detergent and fabric softener reminded her the sheets were clean and fresh.

As she climbed onto the mattress and fluffed her pillow, it was the first real moment she’d had to relax all day, the first time she’d had a chance to ponder something other than dogs.

And that something was Mike.

Do you ever think about the night we spent together? he’d asked.

Of course she did. How could she not?

She’d never let down her defenses like that before. But there were several reasons she had.

She’d felt unusually pretty the night of Dr. Wilder’s cocktail party.

Dressed in a sexy dress and heels while holding the flute of bubbly had also made her feel elegant and sophisticated—a nice change for a woman who spent her workday wearing scrubs and her time off in an oversize shirt and a pair of comfy sweats or well-worn jeans.

As luck would have it, the conscientious waiter kept refilling her glass until she’d had a mind-numbing buzz, which had made the night seem surreal.

And as enchanting as a fairy tale.

Just seeing the way Mike had looked at her was enough to make her lose her head and pretend to be someone else.

And as he’d taken her hand and led her from the party and out of Peter’s house, she’d wondered if the night air would have the same effect on her as the clock striking midnight had on Cinderella.

But it hadn’t.

Overhead, the wintry sky was adorned with a million twinkling stars. And all around them, crystal flakes glistened on the banks of fresh-fallen snow.

When they’d reached Mike’s Jeep, he’d drawn her into his embrace. Then he’d tilted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers. She should have stopped it right there, but her pulse and her hormones had been pumping like a runaway steam engine, and she’d been lost in the magic of the heated moment.

The first tentative touch of his lips to hers had quickly intensified into a mind-spinning, knee-weakening kiss.

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine it still, the way his tongue had swept into her mouth, stealing her senses and making her ache for more.

Her physical reaction, which had bordered on wild and wicked, at least for someone as staid and conservative as she was, had merely been a result of lust and alcohol.

Still, whether she liked admitting it or not, something deep inside her was moved by Mike’s charm and flattered by his crush on her. So when he’d driven her home, she’d thrown caution to the wind and continued to play the role of a princess at the ball. And for the next few hours, she’d pretended to be a woman who always wore her hair swept up in a classic twist, someone who actually belonged in a sexy dress and spiked heels.

But it wasn’t a game she would continue to play. Not with a guy like Mike, who wanted so much more than a one-night fling. And not when the kind of commitment he wanted would lead to love and marriage, which was more than Simone could—or would—give to anyone.

Too bad she hadn’t been able to get Mike to believe that.

Yet, in part, she could understand why.