Baby Blessed Page 15

  Glancing at the phone, Molly wavered as she thought about calling him herself. She didn’t want to lose Jordan, and she refused to give up without making one last effort.

  Swallowing her pride was difficult, but too much was at stake to let her ego stand in the way. If she lost Jordan, she didn’t want to look back and wish she’d made one simple phone call.

  Her hand tightened around the receiver as she punched in his number.

  Jordan answered almost immediately as if he’d been sitting next to the phone, anticipating her call.

  “Hello,” she said softly.

  “Molly.” He seemed surprised to hear from her, but the inflection in his voice told her he was pleased.

  “I hadn’t heard from you in a few days,” she said.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I thought that must be it.”

  He hesitated as though he planned to say more, then changed his mind.

  “How are you?” she asked when there didn’t seem anything else to say.

  “Fine. You?”

  Molly decided to plunge right in. “The baby and I are doing great.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I’ve gotten everything put away in the nursery now. It’s organized and ready for when I come home from the hospital.” Enough, she told herself. She hadn’t meant to shove the subject down his throat.

  “So you’ve been busy, too.”

  “Yeah,” she said. Closing her eyes, she leaned her shoulder against the wall. “I miss you, Jordan.”

  He expelled his breath in a lengthy sigh. “I miss you, too.”

  “Come and see me,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She needed him with her, yearned for the feel of his arms around her.

  “You want me to drive over now?” He sounded reluctant, and she decided he needed a bit of incentive.

  “I’m wearing my baby-doll pajamas.” At one time the silky black outfit had been Jordan’s favorite. It seemed they made love whenever she wore them. She’d put them on that evening, wanting to feel close to him, to remember that love.

  He hesitated. “Molly, I don’t think my coming over is such a good idea.”

  Her eyes flew open with hurt and disappointment. “Why not?”

  It took him a long time to respond. “If I do, we’re going to end up making love.”

  The time to be coy had passed and Molly smiled softly to herself. “I know.”

  “You’re sure about this?” His voice trembled slightly.

  “I’m sure I love you. Is that answer enough?”

  Her words seemed to convince him. “I’ll be there before you know it.”

  Molly barely had time to put away the pickles and the ice cream when the doorbell chimed. She hurried to the front door, checked to be sure it was Jordan and then, hands trembling with eagerness, let him in.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling up at him. “You got here fast.”

  “Any man would with the invitation you just offered.”

  She laughed and lowered her gaze. “I suppose you’re right.” She was hoping he’d take her in his arms, kiss her and then carry her into the bedroom and make love to her. His lack of response did little for her self-confidence.

  “You’ve got something on your chin,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the offending spot. He frowned. “What is that?”

  “Ice cream… I was eating it with a pickle and I guess it was messier than I realized.” She glanced down at her top and found a couple of spots where the ice cream had dripped.

  “How do you eat ice cream with a pickle?” Jordan asked, as if he’d come here specifically for a demonstration.

  “I’ll show you.” She walked back into the kitchen, removed both containers from the refrigerator and scooped up a dollop of ice cream on the end of a pickle. “You need to soften the ice cream first, but once you do that it works great. Do you want to give it a try?”

  “Why not?” he asked, his eyes smiling.

  If she didn’t know better, Molly would think he was stalling for time. Her choice of dessert had never particularly interested him before.

  She swirled the pickle around the edge of the ice-cream container and fed it to Jordan. His brows arched upward with surprise. “Hey, it isn’t bad. This isn’t butter brickle, is it? You hate butter brickle.”

  “I used to. About a week ago I got this craving for it. I’ve always heard about pregnant woman getting cravings, but this is the first time it’s happened to me.”

  Jordan looked down at her protruding stomach. Feeling self-conscious, Molly tugged the silk robe closed and tied the loop around what had once been her trim waist.

  “It wasn’t your work that kept you away for the past three days, was it, Jordan?” she asked softly.

  “No.”

  At least he was honest about it.

  “I’ve been doing some thinking,” he admitted.

  “And?” she prompted when he didn’t immediately continue, eager to hear if he’d found any solutions.

  “Would you mind if we sat down?” he asked, nodding at her sofa.

  “Of course not.” She followed him into the other room, and they sat together. Curling her feet beneath her, she leaned against him and smiled when he raised his arm and placed it lovingly around her shoulders. Molly sighed at the comfort she felt in his embrace.

  He kissed her hair. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

  “Why did you stay away?” The last time they’d met, he’d asked her to move back into the house; now she had to call and almost plead to see him.

  “I can’t think when we’re together,” he said, then added, “I needed time to give some thought to us—and the baby.”

  “I assumed as much. Did you come up with any solutions?”

  “No.”

  “I haven’t, either.” She slid her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to the hollow of his throat, kissing him there.

  “Molly.” Her name was more like a whispered plea.

  “Hmm?”

  “This isn’t going to solve anything,” Jordan whispered huskily.

  “I’m tired of looking for solutions. I want to make love.” She seldom played the role of aggressor, but when she had in the past, Jordan had enjoyed it as much as she did.

  Kissing him in the ways she knew he loved, she crawled onto his lap. She freed his tie, then pulled it loose and tossed it aside. Next she unfastened his shirt buttons. The entire procedure had been accomplished with her mouth on his.

  Jordan stretched out an arm for the lamp and fumbled until he found the switch. Shadows filled the room and the only sound that could be heard was the mingling of their sighs and moans.

  It was while she was on her husband’s lap, kissing him and removing his clothes, that their baby decided to make his presence known. The first fluttering movement they both ignored, but that quickly became impossible as he kicked against Jordan’s chest.

  Smiling, Molly eased her mouth from Jordan’s. “Isn’t he strong?” she said proudly. “Or she, of course.”

  Jordan closed his eyes and rested his head against the sofa.

  Molly reached for his hand and pressed it against her stomach. He didn’t offer any resistance, which encouraged her. Gradually he opened his eyes and straightened.

  “You’re going to love him, Jordan,” she said, wanting to reassure him. “You won’t be able to stop yourself.”

  Again he didn’t respond.

  “I love you,” she whispered, speaking to both father and child.

  Jordan slid her carefully off his lap, stood and paced the room. His steps grew quick, his distress more obvious with every stride. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “What isn’t?” she asked, her gaze following him as he moved from one end of the room to the other. Turn, pace, turn, until it was all she could do not to yell at him to stop.

  He paused and looked at her in the dim light. “I can’t make love to you.”

  Molly settled back in her seat and wrapped
her dignity around her. “Why not?”

  “I don’t mean to hurt you, Molly.” He avoided looking at her as he repeatedly rubbed the back of his neck. Much to her irritation, he resumed his incessant walking.

  “Tell me,” she insisted. Any other woman might have left it at that, saved herself the humiliation, but she had to know.

  “This embarrasses me. It happened the other night, too,” he said, as if making a confession. “I can’t look at you and not want to make love, but the minute I feel the baby move, my desire is gone. It’s the same way now. I love you, Molly, but right now I’m physically incapable of making love to you.”

  Molly wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not this. He was telling her he found her unattractive. His words hurt her badly.

  Silence fell as he waited for her to respond.

  It took Molly several minutes to recover. “Well, that answers that, doesn’t it,” she said, hoping to hide the extent of her pain. “I don’t have a single argument, do I? My figure certainly isn’t what it used to be.”

  Climbing off the sofa, she reached for the lamp and turned the switch. Light spilled into the room. Molly would’ve given anything not to be wearing these sexy pajamas. She felt like an elephant who’d, by some miracle, managed to stuff itself into a bikini.

  Gripping the front of her robe, she walked over to the door and opened it for Jordan. “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon.”

  “Molly, don’t send me away. Not like this.”

  In her opinion, she should be awarded a medal for keeping the tears at bay. Holding her chin high, she slowly turned her head so their eyes met. “Please, Jordan, just go.”

  “The problem’s mine, Molly, not yours. You’re beautiful. I’m the one who needs help. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Everything’s been said a thousand times,” she whispered. “I believe you put it best. This isn’t going to work.”

  Jordan rammed his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but sooner or later you were going to suspect something was wrong.”

  Molly could sympathize with him. He’d backed himself into a corner, but that didn’t make any difference. It would always be like this with him. Jordan wasn’t going to change and she was living in a dream world if she believed otherwise.

  “You once suggested that the only good thing between us was the sex… I was quick to take offense,” she reminded him, “but now I realize you could be right.” This last part was the most painful. “Now that I don’t…arouse you, there really isn’t anything left, is there?”

  “Molly, that’s not true!”

  “Maybe,” she said. “But then again, maybe not.” All she could be sure of at the moment was that she wanted Jordan out of her home. If he didn’t leave soon, she’d be in serious danger of an emotional breakdown. Her pride was already in shreds, and she didn’t relish the thought of humiliating herself further.

  “You’ll give me a call?” he asked when he realized she wasn’t going to change her mind. She stood holding open the front door, waiting for him to vacate her apartment.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, although she doubted she would. It probably would’ve been best to tell him that, but she didn’t want to invite additional arguments.

  His eyes connected with hers before he left. In his she saw regret and pain and several other emotions. She forced herself to stare straight through him, hoping he’d read her lack of emotion as blatant indifference.

  Of one thing Molly was certain—she’d never be indifferent to Jordan Larabee.

  * * *

  A week passed, and Jordan still couldn’t decide what he expected from Molly. He’d insulted her, wounded her pride and just about ruined whatever hope there was of salvaging their marriage. Whoever said honesty was the best policy had never been married, he thought ruefully.

  He’d phoned her countless times in an effort to undo the damage, but Molly screened her calls. He’d stopped by her apartment so often the neighbors had started waving when they saw him. But he hadn’t found the courage to confront her, especially when she’d made it plain she didn’t want to see him again.

  Nothing short of a blowup with Molly would have led him to visit his father-in-law. Ian Houghton would delight in knowing Jordan had made a fool of himself for the umpteenth time. But then Jordan should be accustomed to Ian’s attitude by now.

  His father-in-law was looking pleased with himself when Jordan joined him in his den, with the book-lined walls behind him. The scent of lemon oil permeated the air.

  “Jordan, good to see you,” Ian said as he stood to greet him. The two men exchanged handshakes.

  “You, too.” Jordan sat down and rested his ankle on his knee, hoping to give a carefree, relaxed impression.

  “My guess is that you’re here to inquire about my daughter?”

  “What makes you think this isn’t a friendly social call?” Jordan asked.

  Ian laughed. “I know you too well for that. You don’t make social calls. If you’ve taken the time and the trouble to come and see me, it has something to do with Molly.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I might be here about money.” He’d come to Ian to discuss financing often enough when he was starting his construction company. The older man’s assistance had been invaluable. He and Molly had spent many an evening with Ian going over the details of a construction project. Molly had never complained and often curled up with a book in this very room while the two men talked business. Jordan missed those times and the closeness the three of them shared.

  Jordan met Ian’s look. With a knowing smile, his father-in-law said, “You’ve got more money than you know what to do with these days. It’s not money you’re after, it’s Molly.”

  Obviously, there was no point in being subtle. “All right,” he said decisively, “if you must know, this does have to do with Molly. We had a falling-out.”

  “About what?”

  He felt foolish enough already without explaining the details. “I insulted her.”

  Ian relaxed in his leather chair and smiled broadly. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

  “If I wanted to listen to proverbs I’d be reading Poor Richard’s Almanac. I’m here for advice. I don’t want to lose Molly. I love her.”

  “And the baby?”

  Jordan had wondered how long it would take Ian to bring up the pregnancy. “I’ll grow accustomed to the baby.”

  Ian’s eyes were dark and serious. The smile Jordan had found irritating seconds earlier disappeared. “My daughter isn’t having just any baby, Jordan Larabee, she’s having yours. It’s time you accepted some responsibility.”

  Jordan stiffened, disliking Ian’s tone. “I told Molly from the first that I’d assume complete financial responsibility for the child.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed as he directed the full force of his outrage on him. “I’m talking about emotional responsibility. Do you think you’re the only one who’s ever lost a baby? Enough is enough. No wonder Molly’s having medical problems.”

  Immediate fear stabbed him. “Molly’s having problems?”

  “She hasn’t been at work all week.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jordan was on his feet by now.

  “Don’t worry, it’s under control.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Jordan demanded, more strenuously this time.

  “You’ll have to ask my daughter. She tends to get feisty when I do her talking for her,” Ian said nonchalantly. Jordan swore the old man was hiding a smile.

  Jordan paced to the other side of the room. “She doesn’t answer my calls.”

  “You might want to visit her.”

  “Has she been in to see Doug Anderson?” Jordan demanded. The physician was a friend of his, although they hadn’t seen each other in several years—not since Jeffrey died. Jordan’s company had been involved in constructing the medical building where Anderson practiced.

  “I don’t know, Jordan. You’ll have to ask Molly
that yourself.”

  Jordan glared at his father-in-law and his blatant effort to get him to visit Molly.

  “She only tells me a little about what’s going on in her life,” Ian said. “My guess is that she has seen the doctor. I’m sure she’s got regular appointments. I know she wasn’t feeling well, but…”

  Jordan was tempted to drive over to her apartment and find out for himself exactly what was wrong. He would have if he believed it’d do any good. The minute Molly knew it was him, she simply wouldn’t open the door. She had a stubborn streak that rivaled his own.

  Before he jumped to conclusions, Jordan decided to call Doug Anderson himself and find out what he could. He left Ian, and sat in his truck and called Doug on his cell.

  “Jordan Larabee. Hey, how long has it been?”

  “Too long,” Jordan answered. “I understand Molly’s still your patient?”

  “Yes. I know this bout of flu has been difficult for her, but it’s nothing to worry about. She just needs to get lots of rest.”

  “You’re sure it’s just the flu?”

  “Fairly certain. I’ve treated a number of patients in the past couple of weeks with the same symptoms.”

  “Do you want to get together for a drink?” Jordan asked. “I know it’s short notice, but there are a few things I’d like to talk over with you.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you come by the house. Mary would love to see you. In fact, she’s been wanting to ask you about a contractor. We’re planning to have an extension built.”

  Forty minutes later Jordan pulled up in front of Doug and Mary Anderson’s three-story brick home.

  Mary answered the door and greeted him like a long-lost relative. Jordan regretted having allowed their friendship to lapse. He’d always liked Doug and Mary and couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to them. After Jeffrey died, and Molly moved out, there hadn’t been room in his life for anything other than work.

  Mary insisted on giving him dinner. Jordan had forgotten how good it was to sit down at a table with friends. The Andersons’ three boys were all teenagers. They were tall, well-mannered, good-looking kids, busy with their own lives. Judd at eighteen was the oldest. After greeting Jordan, he grabbed a chicken leg off the platter in the kitchen, kissed his mother’s cheek and left, claiming he needed to go to Angela’s to study for an important test. Peter and Adam had eaten earlier, following football practice, and after shaking hands with Jordan, disappeared.