Her Best Friend's Baby

“For a twenty-two-year-old?” She couldn’t resist.

“For any age. Okay, I’ll stay another day or two. And I promise to keep my hands off you. But you don’t have to play tour guide.”

“Look, you don’t know the area,” she said. “You didn’t come here with any props. No books to read, no projects to do. I’m not crazy about having the TV on during the day.”

“Good. Me, neither.”

“Then unless you want me to teach you how to crochet, I think sight-seeing is the best option.”

He smiled. “I’m no good at needlework. But how do you usually spend your days off? What would you be doing if I hadn’t shown up?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Sure, I do.”

“I’d probably be lolling around upstairs in my jammies, reading tabloids and painting my toenails.”

The poor guy’s tongue was nearly hanging out before he got himself under control. He cleared his throat. “Well, if that’s your usual routine, don’t mind me. I can—”

“Morgan, I’m not going to follow my usual routine. We’re dealing with unusual circumstances. Besides, I like my city. I enjoy showing it off.”

“Okay. But I’m beginning to feel like a leech, especially after you bought breakfast and groceries. Can I take you someplace really nice for dinner? Don’t forget I’m the proud owner of a gold card. What’s the most exclusive restaurant in Austin?”

He really was a sweetie. Arielle had talked about being treated like a queen, and Mary Jane could see how that was a real possibility with a guy like Morgan. Arielle had obviously loved all this wining and dining, but she hadn’t worked in a restaurant five or six days out of every week, either.

“That’s a nice thought,” she said, “and I appreciate it. But to tell you the truth, I’d rather rent a movie and order a pizza tonight. I suppose that doesn’t sound very exciting to someone from New York City, though.”

His gaze, usually so open, became unreadable. “You might be surprised.”

THE EMOTIONAL SHOCK of Arielle’s death must have shaken something loose in his brain, Morgan decided a couple of hours later as he pulled on the oars of the boat he and Mary Jane had rented. He was supposed to be admiring the Austin skyline visible at the far end of the lake, but instead he was admiring Mary Jane in the bow of the boat, and wondering how he’d get through another night in her town house without hitting on her. He didn’t remember being this obsessed with sex even as a sixteen-year-old.

She seemed unaware of his preoccupation, and he was sure she was making no effort to be provocative. Probably just the opposite. For the boat ride she’d changed into some lightweight drawstring pants, a faded, roomy T-shirt with the Texas Longhorns mascot on the front, and red sandals.

Maybe it was the sandals. Her exotically painted toenails peeked out from under the strap across her instep. Each chili-pepper-red toenail had a silver star in the middle that winked at him. She’d been barefoot when she’d come to the door last night, and although he didn’t remember paying any attention to her feet, part of his brain must have recorded those toenails and associated them with what went on later in her bed.

Or maybe it was the way she was leaning back against the end of the boat, her elbows on the rail, her knees slightly apart. Or his new black cowboy hat on her head. When he’d nearly lost it in the lake they’d decided that whoever wasn’t rowing should wear the hat, so they could keep one hand on it if the wind picked up.

So they’d traded, and he now wore her wire-rimmed sunglasses to shade his eyes and she wore the hat, pulling it low over her brow the way a desperado might. She looked so damn cute in that hat. The breeze was tangling her hair, which she’d left loose around her shoulders, and the sun was reflecting off the curls that escaped from the shade of the hat.

She clapped a hand over the crown and tilted her head to let a little sun fall directly on her face. “I spend too much time under artificial light,” she said. “It’s the only thing I regret about my job.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve often wished I could set up a booth in Central Park and see my patients there.”

She glanced at him with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be cool? I’ll bet kids wouldn’t mind coming to the doctor’s office so much if they didn’t have to sit in those scary little waiting rooms. You could call yourself the Doc in the Park. I think you should try it.”

“I’m pretty sure my insurance agent would have a heart attack.”

She waved a hand. “Minor detail. I’ll bet you could revolutionize pediatrics with a gig like that.” She sat up straighter. “Okay, my turn to row again.”

He didn’t want to give up the oars. For one thing, it kept his hands busy. “It can’t be. I just got started.”

“You’ve been rowing for at least fifteen minutes, and I admit you’re better at it than I thought you’d be, considering you’re such a city boy.”

“I keep telling you I was on the rowing team in college.”

“Yeah, yeah, but that doesn’t give you special privileges. Come on. Trade places with me. The rowing’s the fun part.”

“Another five minutes. Then we’ll switch.” He’d quickly discovered that physical exercise was exactly what he needed. Besides, rowing the boat across a section of water gave him a sense of accomplishment and control. Apparently he’d needed that, too.

Of course, Mary Jane needed and wanted those rewards as much as he did. He’d figured out right away that she wasn’t the type to sit in the boat and let the guy take the oars, no matter how many rowing medals he had stashed in his closet at home. She’d gone so far as to push back the sleeve of her T-shirt and flex her muscles for him to prove that she was capable of rowing them across the lake.

He’d never had a woman insist on doing her share of the manual labor, and he’d tried to talk her out of it, even using her pregnancy as a reason. She’d laughed and mentioned the heavy trays she carried at work every day. Finally he’d run out of arguments and had let her take the first turn at the oars, much to her delight.

Watching her row had proved to be its own special torture. Each time she’d pulled on the oars her breasts had thrust against the fabric of her T-shirt. By now he was pretty sure that Longhorns logo was burned permanently into his retina.

“Wasn’t this the greatest idea?” she asked.

“Yes.” He couldn’t believe how something so simple was so cleansing. He wasn’t really in shape for rowing, but the slight ache in his shoulders felt great. While he worked up a mild sweat and listened to the rhythm of the oars clunking against the oarlocks, he enjoyed the lush green of the trees surrounding the lake, the familiar dank scent of the water, the white clouds scudding across the sky and the sun warming his back. “It makes you feel glad to be a—” He brought the sentence to a screeching halt and stared at Mary Jane in horror at what he’d been about to say.

She leaned forward and put a hand on each of his knees. “We are alive,” she said, looking hard at him as she gripped his knees. “And, Morgan, that’s not our fault. We shouldn’t feel guilty about that.”

“I guess not.” But he had plenty of other things to feel guilty about, and topping the list was the selfish, wild pleasure he felt whenever she touched him. They’d rowed into a fairly secluded inlet, and nobody seemed to be around on this week day. If he had no conscience… But he did have a conscience, and fortunately it still worked. “You can have the oars now,” he said.

CHAPTER FIVE

IN SPITE OF what she’d told Morgan, Mary Jane found herself battling feelings of guilt as the afternoon continued to be more fun than two grieving people should be having. After the rowboat ride, she’d driven him outside the city, cruising past Garrett Lord’s place because she remembered Lana telling her that the bluebonnets were still looking good on her brother’s property. Sure enough, the wildflowers were doing their thing in an open meadow.

Morgan insisted on stopping the car so he could get out and look at a bluebonnet up close. The spot he chose was not too far from the turnoff to Garrett’s place. If Lana’s brother happened to be out riding and caught a glimpse of Mary Jane with a man, word would be all over in no time.

Crossing the road with Morgan to look at the field of wildflowers, Mary Jane hoped they wouldn’t be seen. She still felt very protective of their privacy.

“I’ve heard of these things for ages,” Morgan said. “Thanks for humoring me. I’m a scientist. I want to examine one up close.”

“Just don’t pick one,” she warned as he started into a field. “Or we’ll be arrested.”

“Seriously?” He turned to her in surprise. “Arrested for picking wildflowers? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with them?”

“Not these. These are our state treasure. And they reseed themselves every year. If people went around gathering bouquets, they wouldn’t reseed and we wouldn’t have this.” She spread her arm to encompass the lavender-blue carpet of flowers.

“Okay. Gotcha. No picking.” He crouched next to a single plant and touched the delicate cluster of small blue flowers that covered the slender stalk. “I like to see the detail that goes into the big picture.”

She stood by the edge of the road and watched him, fascinated by the way he could focus his attention like a laser. Although she’d been in his office, she’d never seen him dealing with one of his small patients. If he devoted this much careful attention to them, he must be one hell of a doctor. And one hell of a lover. She pushed the thought away.

“Incredible. I love the color.” At the gentle brush of his fingers, one small bloom dropped from the stalk. “Oops.” He drew his hand back. “What’s the penalty for that? Fifty lashes?”

“You’re out west now, pardner. We string up varmints like you from the nearest tree.”

He stood and walked toward her. “Gonna turn me in?”