The M.D. She Had To Marry. Christine Rimmer
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frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I just want a drink of water, that’s all.”
“I’ll get it.”
“No, don’t bother. I can—”
But he was already striding to the sink. He took a glass from the corner of the counter, rinsed it, and filled it from the tap. Then he carried it to her and held it out.
She looked at the glass and then up, into his eyes. His kindness and concern did touch her. He was a good man, always had been. Much too good for the likes of her. She felt a smile flirting with the corners of her mouth. “You know, until a few years ago, there was no running water or electricity here in the cabin. It cost a bundle, apparently, to run electrical lines and water pipes out here. But my cousin Zach had it done last summer. Pretty convenient, huh? Otherwise, you’d have had to head for the well out back to fill that glass for me.”
“Just drink.” His voice was gruff.
This time, as he passed her the glass, his fingers did brush hers. His fingers were warm. She wondered if hers felt cold to him.
“Thank you.” She drank. It was just what she’d wanted, clear and cool and satisfying as it slid down her throat.
“More?”
She shook her head, set down the glass.
Logan pulled out the chair nearest hers and dropped into it. He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned toward her. The light caught and gleamed in his dark hair.
His eyes were softer now. “I didn’t call when I got your letter because I knew you would only try to talk me into staying away.”
Her smile started to quiver. She bit the corner of her lip to make it stop. “That’s true. I would have.”
“It wouldn’t have worked.”
“I know. You’ll do what you think is right. You always have.” Except during those five days last September, a voice in her mind whispered tauntingly. Then you did things you didn’t approve of. And you did them with me.
He looked down at the rough boards between his feet, then back up at her. “This baby changes everything, Lace.”
She wanted to touch him. The slight brushing of their fingers a moment before had whetted her appetite for the feel of him. Oh, to simply reach out and run her fingers through that shining dark hair, to trace his brows, to learn again the shape of his mouth.
Tenderness welled in her. He had traveled such a long way and he wasn’t going to get what he came for—what he would say he wanted, what he would call the right thing.
He said it then, as if he had plucked the words right out of her mind. “We have to do the right thing now.”
She sat back in her chair and clasped her hands beneath the hard swell of her belly. “Your idea of the right thing and mine are not the same, Logan.”
He answered her with measured care. “The right thing is the right thing, period.”
“Fine. Whatever. The point is, I’m not going to marry you.”
Chapter Two
Logan had pretty much expected this. He straightened in the chair and kept his voice level and reasonable. “Before you turn me down flat, let’s discuss this a little. You’re in no position to raise a child on your own, and I’m willing to—”
“Logan, I told you. No. It’s a two-letter word meaning negative, out of the question. Uh-uh. Forgetaboutit.” She pushed herself to her feet. “We are not getting married.”
“Why not?”
She stared at him for a moment, then made a show of hitting her forehead with the heel of her hand. “What? You can’t figure that one out for yourself?”
“Spare me the theatrics. Just answer the question. Why not?”
Muttering under her breath, she turned to her groceries, grabbed a box of Wheat Thins in one hand and a can of cocoa mix in the other and started toward the ancient wood-burning stove that crouched against the wall by the front door.
His frustration with her got the better of him. “Sit down,” he commanded.
It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it. But something about Lacey Bravo tended to bring out the tyrant in him.
Why was that? He had no idea. He considered himself a reasonable, gentle man, as a rule. He was a reasonable, gentle man as a rule. Ask just about anyone who knew him.
Lacey ignored his command. She reached the stove and put the crackers and cocoa mix on the open shelf above it. Then she turned for the table again and shuffled his way, her abdomen heavy and low in front of her—low enough, in fact, to make him suspect that the baby inside her had already dropped toward the birth canal.
It could be less than a week before she brought his child into the world.
They needed to get married.
She reached into the bag again. He stood. “Lace. Stop. You know we have to talk about this.”
She took her hand out of the bag and raked that thick gold hair of hers back from her forehead. “Not about marriage, we don’t.”
“I disagree. I think marriage is exactly what we do need to talk about. I think that—”
She put up both hands, palms out. “Wait. Listen. You’re the baby’s father. And of course, you’ll want to see him or her, to be a part of his life. I understand that and I can accept that. But it really isn’t necessary for you to—”
“It damn well is necessary. You’re having my baby and a baby needs a mother and a father.”
“I told you. The baby will have a mother and a father. They just won’t be married to each other, that’s all.”
“A two-parent home is important to a child.”
“Sometimes a two-parent home isn’t possible.”
“In our case, it’s entirely possible. I want to marry you. We’re both single. I make a good living and I do care for you. I believe that, deep in your heart, you also care for me. I know I’m rough on you sometimes, rougher than I have a right to be. But I’ll work on that, I promise you.”
She said nothing, only looked at him, shaking her head.
He thought of more arguments in his favor. “We have…history together. I feel I really know you, that you really know me. We could build a good life together, I’m sure of it.”
Still, she didn’t speak.
A grotesque thought occurred to him. “Is there another man? Is that it?”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.
He realized that, if there was another man, he didn’t want to know. Which was irrational. Of course, if there was someone else, he needed to know.
He asked again. “Lace? Is there another man?”
“No,” she said in a tiny, soft voice. “No one. There hasn’t been anyone. Since you. Since quite a while before you, if you want to know the truth.”
Relief shimmered through him. “Good. Then there’s nothing to stop you from marrying me.”
She backed up and let herself down into the chair again. “How can you say that?”
“Lace—”
“No, Logan. I am not going to marry you.” She looked up at him, blue eyes glittering in defiance, mulishly determined to do exactly the wrong thing.
Impatience rose in him again. “Why not?”
She glared at him. “You keep asking that. Do you really want an