Just Around The Corner

“I don’t understand why I’m the one you’re telling,” he said carefully, studying that hair. He knew it wasn’t polite to ask a woman who the father of her child was, but what did a guy say when it wasn’t him? He might have lost a good piece of his mind that Saturday in the theater, but not so much that he hadn’t protected himself, and her, from any and all consequences.

“Because you’re the only man I’ve had sex with since I divorced my husband four years ago.”

He shook his head, not thinking her a liar, just knowing his stuff. “I pulled on that condom before I got anywhere near you.”

“Condoms fail.”

“Not likely.”

“Read the box next time you pick some up,” she said, still appearing far too calm, too undemanding, to be telling him what he thought he was hearing. “They’re ninety-seven percent safe. Which leaves three percent for us to fall into.”

No.

“Added to the fact that, once I thought back on it, I realized the wrapper you took from your wallet didn’t look exactly new.”

It hadn’t been. But the damn things didn’t come with “use by” dates. For a reason.

“How long was it in there?” she asked.

He shrugged, uncomfortable. His private life was off-limits. Period.

Or it had been until last month, when he’d pulled down the zipper on the front of his jeans in the Performing Arts Center. Every swearword he could think of—his time in prison had given him quite a repertoire—passed through his mind. Attached to each one was a barb aimed directly at the guilty part of his anatomy.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “A year, maybe more.”

Like, maybe three more. It’d been a long, long time since he’d relaxed enough to give in to a sexual urge.

“A year’s worth of being smooshed and sat on could definitely do it,” she said.

Damn, the woman sounded as though they were discussing nothing more earth-shattering than a rained-out game of Little League. Didn’t she get it? They had an untenable situation on their hands.

Matt didn’t even know how to be a friend. There was no way he could be a father.

“I…” He paused, wondering what to say to her, to make her understand.

“Don’t worry.” She jumped into the pause. “I’m not asking anything from you. I don’t want anything. What happened last month was a one-time, no-strings-attached episode. And that hasn’t changed.”

Episode. They’d had some of the most incredible sex of his life. They’d apparently made a baby. And she called it an episode?

Was that all the baby was to her, too? An episode? Easy come, easy go? The thought made him feel a little sick.

He opened his mouth to tell her so.

Whoa. He stopped just in time.

A few minutes ago he’d been looking for a way to bail. He could hardly blame her, a single woman with a prominent position at a prestigious college, for wanting to do the same.

Admittedly, bailing was a little more convenient for him than it would be for her.

“Do you mind if I ask what your plans are?” He’d pay whatever expenses she incurred. Money was the one thing he had to give.

For the first time since taking a seat, she looked down, and he saw the chink in her armor. Was oddly relieved to find it there.

“I haven’t really made any plans yet,” she told him. “I’m still getting used to the idea that I’m going to be a mother.”

Going to be a mother. Why did his mind keep repeating everything she said? You’d think he was dense or something.

“You’re planning to have the baby, then?”

Her head shot back up. “Of course. And before you ask, I’m not even considering the alternative, so you can save your breath.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS GOING much better than she’d expected. And worse. She’d prepared herself for anger, denial, blame.

What she hadn’t prepared for was a thoughtful, concerned man. Inexplicably, his humanness made the whole thing so much harder to get through. He was supposed to be little more than a fly at her picnic. She’d swat him away and get on with it.

He wasn’t letting that happen—wasn’t letting her discount him as easily as she’d thought.

“So you’re definitely going to have the baby.” He was fooling with a paper clip on his desk. Bending it into odd shapes with two fingers of his left hand. Did that mean he was left-handed? She hadn’t noticed before.

Did that mean her baby might be left-handed, as well?

“Yes, I’m going to have it.” She swallowed. Her baby. And this man’s.

He looked up, head cocked to one side, eyes narrowed. “I can’t be a father.”

The sigh of relief escaped Phyllis before she could prevent it. “Who asked you to be?”

Back to his paper clip. She wondered if he was staring at it so intently because he was really trying to create some particular design—or because he didn’t want to look at her.

“I’ll pay for everything.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

A baby. A baby with her traits and his, all mixed together. Growing inside her body.

He raised his head, frowning. “Of course it’s necessary. I’m responsible. I pay.”

Two could play that game. “I’m responsible. I pay.”

“Well, then, we’re both responsible. We split the bills fifty-fifty.”

No! That wasn’t the plan. She was doing this alone.

But he had her. They were both responsible. She just hadn’t figured he’d care. How was she to know he had a streak of responsibility in his reclusive body?