A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing Page 10

  As if the child within knew he was being discussed, there was a small movement. She froze, wanting to feel the wondrous sensation again. The baby had been

  “Something wrong? What is it, Ro?”

  She shook her head. “Something’s very right. The baby’s moving.” She walked over to him and took his hand, placing it where she’d felt the activity. “Feel.”

  “Isn’t it too early?” He tensed, but didn’t try to pull away.

  “The doctor says I could be farther along than he first thought. We won’t know for sure until the ultrasound.”

  Then there was another motion and she knew by the awed expression on his face that Steve had felt it, too. “Wow,” he said. “There’s really something in there.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “And when this something keeps getting bigger, the folks are going to ask questions. They need to know the truth.” Then she had an “aha” experience. “Gotcha.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight with my folks. You didn’t say anything about the baby because you didn’t want to see The Look, did you?”

  “‘The Look’?” He removed his hand from her tummy and stuck his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans.

  She missed the warmth of his touch, the closeness and sharing they’d had for just an instant. Sadness stole over her and she tried to shake it off with a stern reminder to stop wishing for the moon. He was kind enough to be here at all. She could be alone through this. If not for his generosity, she would have no one

  “Yeah. When they know this marriage is just temporary, they’ll be disappointed. Hence, The Look.”

  “What did your mother mean when she said it was only a matter of time until we got together?” he asked.

  She didn’t want to go where that question would lead because rejection and humiliation would surely follow. “That was Mama Marchetti matchmaking. Don’t pay any attention.”

  She kept mental fingers crossed that her tone had been light enough, her expression casual enough, and above all, her hammering heart quiet enough to keep him from guessing there was anything more. The whistling teakettle made her jump. Quickly she grabbed it, then poured steaming water into the mugs she’d set out.

  As she handed him one she said, “It’s chamomile. Supposed to help you sleep. You look like you could use a good night’s rest.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. So I think I’ll move my things over in the morning.”

  Startled, Rosie jumped and spilled hot liquid on her wrist. Steve set his cup on the dining table and quickly moved beside her, leading her to the faucet where he let cold water soothe the minor irritation. His concern would have felt lovely except she was too stunned by what he’d said.

  “Excuse me? You’re moving in? Here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t recall inviting you.”

  He stared at her as if he’d been expecting this reaction

  “Yes. You have your place and I have mine.”

  “Married people usually cohabitate.”

  “It’s true. They do,” she said, cautiously hopeful that he wanted to live with her. Maybe he cared for her more than he let on. “But my parents will know the truth soon enough so we don’t have to keep up any pretense for them.”

  “This is a small town. People will talk.”

  “Okay.” He really was concerned about her. Her heart beat a little faster. “But I think we should discuss this.”

  “What’s there to talk about?” he asked.

  “For one thing, your place is bigger. The sleeping arrangements—”

  “The couch here will be fine,” he quickly interrupted.

  The glow he’d kindled moments before began to flicker like a candle flame in a cold wind. “It’s not very big or very comfortable.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “But why, Steve? Your place has four bedrooms; at least two of them don’t have gym equipment in them. Why stay here and be uncomfortable?”

  “One very practical reason. After the baby is born and we go back to the way things were, you won’t have to move. With the new baby and all.”

  She held herself very still, hoping to keep the pain at bay. Even though she knew all the practical reasons for his marriage proposal, in a small corner of her heart she’d hoped it was simply that he cared for her. He was being very considerate. So why did it hurt so unromantic side reared its ugly head?

  She took cover from the pain by diving right into her anger. She wasn’t sure whether to kick him or grab a hunk of his sexy chest hair and yank for all she was worth. When would she learn to look at the world clearly instead of through the stars in her eyes? He was planning ahead because he couldn’t wait for this inconvenient, unfortunate interlude to end.

  “Look, I’ll manage,” she snapped. After taking a couple deep, cleansing breaths to check her temper, she continued. “I’ll stay here, you go to your place and sleep in a bed where your feet won’t hang off the end.”

  “If we don’t make this look like a real marriage for a decent length of time, it could come back to bite you in the butt.”

  “How?”

  He sighed. “We started this in the first place to avoid gossip. What about your folks and all their friends with grandchildren?”

  “I’m beginning to not care very much what anyone thinks of me,” she said.

  “You’re just tired, Ro. Why don’t you get some sleep? In the morning—”

  “This is my place. Don’t you dare pat me on the head and send me to bed.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing—”

  “The heck it’s not. Quit treating me like a little girl. I’m a grown woman. Hear me roar. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to protect me.”

  “What about the baby?”

  That brought her little tantrum to a screeching halt. He made her feel like the world’s most self-centered

  “I’m sorry. You can stay. And Steve?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest.

  “What?” His voice cracked.

  “Thank you.”

  He tightened his hold momentarily. “My pleasure.”

  Six weeks later Steve felt like pond scum because they still hadn’t told her parents about the baby. Mr. and Mrs. M. had been called to Grandma Marchetti’s when she fell and broke her hip. Besides nursing her, then moving her into their home, business matters had kept his in-laws busy. They had been in touch by phone, but that wasn’t how he and Rosie wanted to break the news. Circumstances had conspired to put it off, but that was going to change tonight.

  Rosie had invited her parents to dinner so they could tell them in person.

  One look at her person and they would know anyway. She was glowing with health and wearing maternity clothes to accommodate her blossoming figure.

  He stirred the marinara sauce as instructed before she’d gone into her bedroom to get ready. She was nervous, wanted to look her best. As far as he was concerned, first thing in the morning, right after rolling out of bed, she looked pretty good to him. If he had known how hard it would be to see her every day, under such intimate circumstances, he probably would have taken a chance on separate habitation.

  He slept on an air mattress in the living room. In all this time, he’d never set foot in the bedroom, not while Rosie was in it. But that didn’t mean he could ignore her. Her crossword puzzle lay half finished on the table. Sneakers from her nightly walk rested by the front door. Most dangerous of all was the lingering fragrance of her perfume that made him think of her even when she wasn’t there. These little things, and so many more conspired to never give him a moment’s peace from wanting her.

  His body reacted to that thought as usual—instantly and painfully. Footsteps on the stairs told him the Marchettis had used the key Rosie had given them.

  “They’re here, Ro.” He heard a crash from the bedroom. “You okay?”

  “There’s no blood if that’s what you mean.” She hurried down the hallway. “But the shor
t answer is no. I’m nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.”

  She wore a full-cut, black and white vertical-striped top and dressy black slacks. Her hair was secured on top of her head with the curls cascading down. He knew she’d spent a lot of time on her makeup, but he didn’t think she needed any. She always looked beautiful.

  “Wow,” he said, letting his gaze travel over her from head to toe.

  One of her dark brows shot up. “Your nose is growing, Schafer.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because you know your survival depends on it.”

  Before he could debate that further, there was a knock on the door. She looked at him sternly. “Do

  “How about we’re low on ammunition, make every shot count?”

  She laughed and he thought her tension eased momentarily. Then she opened the door and he didn’t mistake the stiff set of her shoulders, her trembling hand.

  “Hi, Ma, Daddy,” she said as the older couple stepped past her and into the living room. “How’s Grandma?” she asked, closing the door.

  Her mother took off her coat and hung it on the rack in the corner. “She’s fine. Luke said he’d stay with her tonight. Those two always had a special bond.” She turned and stopped short as she gave her daughter a really good, head-to-toe once-over.

  This was the first time Steve could remember seeing Flo Marchetti speechless. He moved to stand beside Rosie and they faced her parents side by side.

  Her father cleared his throat. “My guess is that this is what you had to tell us.”

  Rosie’s hands twisted nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just that, Grandma got sick. You were busy. I didn’t—” She reached out in a helpless gesture.

  Flo Marchetti’s eyes filled with tears. “So this was the angle. Nicky was right.”

  “Of course he was,” Tom said, patting Rosie’s gently rounded stomach.

  “Yeah, this is the angle,” Rosie said ruefully.

  Her dad put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. “Just now when I first saw you, so pregnant, I thought maybe Wayne was the father.

  Steve looked in the man’s black eyes and didn’t question that he meant every single word. In that instant he knew where the Marchetti men had gotten their tempers. If Wayne was here, he would be up to his eyeballs in alligators. Ditto if any of Rosie’s brothers decided to look for him.

  Tom met his gaze squarely. “This explains why you got married so suddenly without saying anything. You’re going to be a father.”

  Rosie shook her head. “No, Daddy.” Helplessly she looked at her mother. “Ma. It’s not what you think—”

  The other woman stared lovingly at her daughter and touched her abdomen. “I’m going to be a grandmother. That’s what I think.”

  “Yes, but...” Rosie glanced at Steve and her dark eyes begged him to explain. “Feel free to jump in anytime.”

  Flo looked from one to the other and shook her finger at Rosie, pretending displeasure. “I thought we shared everything, but you never said a word about you and Steve. I’ve always had my suspicions about you two, but I had no idea that you’d gotten together.”

  “‘Gotten together’?” Rosie asked.

  “You know, the wild thing,” Mrs. M. answered.

  “Mother!”

  “You think I don’t keep up? I know all the slang—the horizontal—”

  “Ma, we get your drift.” Rosie again looked to Steve for help with the explanation. “Tell them what happened.”

  One look at the murderous anger in Tom Marchetti’s eyes had convinced Steve that the whole truth was a mistake. Rosie had accused him of protecting her family, and in this case she couldn’t be more right.

  Flo took her daughter’s face in her hands. “Sweetheart, I know about the birds and the bees. What you two did is pretty obvious.”

  “Ma, you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Oh, I understand.” Mrs. M. winked. “You think we’ll be upset that you and Steve didn’t wait until you were married. We’re not from the Stone Age, dear.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “If it makes you feel any better, Nick wasn’t conceived in the cabin on our honeymoon the way we always said.”

  Rosie’s cheeks turned red as she covered her ears. “Not another word, Ma.”

  “Thirty-five years later I’m not ashamed to say that I was carrying him when your father and I took our vows.”

  Steve put his arms around Rosie when she buried her face against his chest. “I don’t want to hear this,” she said, her voice muffled.

  Mrs. M. smiled at her husband. “This younger generation. They think they’re so hip. Rosie, you have my permission to share this with your brothers, but I’m not sure they can handle it.”

  Steve didn’t know how her brothers would take her parents’ revelation, but figured all the Marchetti sons were less likely to do something stupid and get in trouble if they believed he’d fathered her baby. There would be no need to defend their little sister’s honor until he and Rosie split up. The thought made him

  But there was no doubt in his mind that this was the right thing to do—for all of them.

  With his arm around Rosie, he looked at the elder Marchettis. He forced a broad grin. “So, I guess you’re not upset that Rosie and I are going to have a baby.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rosie tiptoed down the hall, past the living room where Steve slept, and turned the corner into the kitchen. She turned on the dim, under-the-cupboard lights, hoping Steve wouldn’t be disturbed. Although it would serve him right for insisting on moving in here when his place would have been more comfortable. Her next thought was that there wasn’t a place in hell low enough for her.

  She was hypercritical of the man who had let her parents believe he was the father of her baby!

  She still couldn’t take it in. Glancing at the microwave clock, she read 3:30 a.m. Her mind had whirled ever since her parents left. She hadn’t slept a wink. Chamomile tea, that’s the ticket, she thought.

  As quietly as possible, she put water in the teakettle. After assembling cup and teabag, she watched and waited to grab the kettle before it whistled and woke Steve.

  “No need to be quiet.”

  His deep voice from the doorway scared her senseless. As she whirled around, the cup flew out of her hand and shattered on the tile floor. Heart pounding, she stared at him. “There must be a law against sneaking up on someone like that.”

  “I just wanted you to know I wasn’t asleep and you were doing a lousy job of trying to keep the noise down anyway.”

  The teakettle whistled and she turned toward it. Before she could take a step, Steve stopped her. “There’s broken glass. Your feet are bare.”

  Without another word, he lifted her into his arms and took her out of the kitchen. Her heartbeat, just slowing to normal after the start he’d given her, cranked back up again for a completely different reason. His sleeping attire was nothing but sweatpants, which left his chest bare. With her arms around his neck for balance, she felt the ripple of muscles in his shoulders and back.

  She was exquisitely conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing a robe over her floor-length, fleece nightgown. Only flesh-to-flesh contact could have been more intimate. Her skin grew hot and flushed and she suddenly felt as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Her gaze locked with his and she saw a darkly intense look that thrilled her to her core. It was the same expression he’d worn in the cabin the night they’d made love. The most wonderful night of her life. She ached to be with him again.

  He carried her into the dining room and hesitated. Around the corner, just a few feet away down the hall was her room. She wanted him to take her into her bed and lay down beside her. She yearned for his arms around her. Just a few more steps and they could

  Then he swallowed once and bent to set her on the dining room rug. As he did, her hand slipped down his chest, in a sort of caress, and she heard his small
intake of breath. Her first thought was that he wanted her, and exhilaration raced through her. Then she got real and faced facts. It wasn’t a reaction to her closeness, merely the exertion of lifting, and quite handily at that, a pregnant woman.

  He quickly removed the screeching teakettle and grabbed the broom to sweep up the glass. As he worked, muscles rippled across his broad back. From her vantage point she decided the view was as impressive as his show of strength.

  “Way to go, Schafer.” Keep your voice light, she cautioned. “How’s your back? Pull any of those chick-magnet muscles?”

  Dumping the shards into the trash, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “You’re as light as a feather, squirt. I know better than to get sucked into that conversation.”

  “Then how about this one?” She watched him replace the broom. “Why did you let my parents believe that you fathered my baby?”

  When he looked at her, his face was momentarily unshuttered. She glimpsed raw emotion. She recognized the abandoned boy he’d been the first time she’d met him. She saw deep loneliness. Most of all, she felt as if she could reach out and touch his pain. Without another thought except to comfort, she crossed the short distance between them and put her arms around him.

  He only hesitated a moment before folding her to

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I know. But it’s the best one I’ve got.”

  “Sell it somewhere else, Schafer. I’m not buying that. If there’s anyone who knows exactly what he’s doing at all times, it’s you.”

  Case in point: resisting the urge to take her into the bedroom. She would have gone in a second. But she knew firsthand that he had more self-control than a gymnastics team at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  He loosened the circle of his arms and leaned back to look at her. One eyebrow raised questioningly. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  She could be and she had been. Case in point: agreeing to his proposal and their marriage. It had started out as a way to protect her reputation, no strings attached. But every time she turned around, he changed the rules, did something so unbearably sweet that she was in great danger of having her heart shattered as surely as the cup she’d just broken.