Her Last First Date. Сьюзен Мэллери
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I’d never been around babies before—not without my mom to handle things. He was so small. Both Pete and I were terrified. It was the only time I questioned being a doctor.”
That made her smile. “Because you couldn’t handle one little baby?”
“Yeah.” Humor brightened his dark green eyes. “But not Abbey. She was a natural. Loving, attentive and fearless. She could handle everything from cutting those tiny nails to treating a spiking fever. Pete learned because he had to, but for Abbey it was only joy. Sometimes I think she’s doing what she was born to do.”
“Abbey’s a great mom,” Crissy said, remembering the homemade everything and the ice cream scoops in the individual paper cups. “I agree it’s her calling.”
“So it was a cruel twist of fate that took away her ability to have children of her own. She’d only ever wanted to be a mom. You enabled that to happen.”
Crissy knew in her head he was telling the truth, but in her heart, she didn’t think she should get off so easily.
“Marty was my first serious boyfriend,” she said. “Back in high school. He played football and was really popular. I had a lot of friends, too, even though I played sports. So uncool for a girl.”
“I’ll bet you did well.”
“I did. I was fast and coordinated and I worked hard. I had a plan. Softball scholarship to pay for my college, then a high powered career in finance.” She shrugged. “At least the scholarship part came true. I had a full ride. The day I got the letter I finally admitted to myself what I’d been avoiding for weeks. That I was pregnant.”
She looked away, remembering that day. How she’d curled up on her bed and wished the baby away—something she’d done ever since she’d begun to suspect that having sex with Marty and not using protection had been a dumb idea.
“Marty was as shocked as I was,” she told Josh. “We were each other’s first time and stupid about birth control. He panicked, saying he didn’t want a baby. Not for a long time. I didn’t, either. I had a future and it didn’t include being a single mom.”
“You were only seventeen. That would have been a hard road.”
“I talked to my parents and told them what had happened. They offered to do whatever they could to support me. I could live at home and go to community college. Mom would baby-sit while I was in class. They made it sound so reasonable.”
“But you didn’t want that.”
She shook her head. “I wanted out. Marty signed the paperwork releasing him from responsibility as soon as he could and I started looking for a couple to adopt the baby.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked. “Why is that so horrible?”
“I don’t know. It just is. I feel guilty about not feeling guilty enough.”
“That has to sound crazy, even to you.”
Despite everything, she smiled. “I’ll admit it does. I just feel horrible about not caring enough. Not suffering enough.”
“Because you would be a better person if you’d been emotionally crushed?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t regret the decision, just your lack of remorse?”
Crissy hesitated. Did she regret giving up Brandon?
She searched her heart. “Pretty much,” she admitted. “I’m not like Abbey.”
“No one’s asking you to be.”
“But she’s so great with the kids. She has all those domestic abilities. I don’t. I have no natural female talents.”
From where he was sitting, Josh thought she had a few. More than a few. But she wouldn’t want to hear about him finding her sexy.
Her vulnerability drew him in, mostly because he sensed she was normally confident and in charge of her life. She was a successful businesswoman who had one weakness—her inability to forgive herself.
“We’re not living in the 1800s,” he told her. “Women don’t have a single role. Everyone gets to make choices. You gave your baby to a couple who desperately wanted him. Where’s the bad in that?”
“Oh, sure. Use logic. I’m talking about my irrational side here. I want to wallow in guilt and shame.”
“What is there to be ashamed of? Having Abbey and Pete raise your son?”
Her gaze narrowed. “I’m not ashamed of that and Brandon isn’t my son. He’s theirs. They are possibly the most perfect parents I’ve ever met and as my parents did a hell of a job, I have fairly high standards. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Temper flashed in her eyes. Color stained her cheek and she was breathing hard. Damn, she looked good. He felt a stirring of pure lust. It had been so long that at first he couldn’t figure out what the heat pouring through him meant. When he did, he nearly grinned. It felt good to be alive. How long had it been since he could say that?
“You think this is funny?” she demanded, rising to her feet.
“Not funny. Just interesting. Anger is more productive than self-pity.”
She glared at him. “I can’t believe it. Are you playing me?”
He put down his wine and stood. “A little. I had no idea there was such a drama queen hiding behind your power suit.”
“Drama queen? I don’t think so.” She moved closer and pointed her index finger at him. “You’re just so typically male. Whenever there’s a situation that makes you uncomfortable or that you can’t handle, you go for the easy putdown. The chick insults. Do you feel more like a man now?”
She breathed fury. He could see she wanted to hit him—or at least throw him out.
“Kind of,” he said with a grin.
Then acting rather than thinking, he grabbed her upper arms, pulled her up against him and kissed her.
He felt her shock and half expected her to push him away. For a moment there was nothing but the warmth of her mouth on his and the heat flaring between them. He braced himself for rejection, but it never came. Instead she tilted her head slightly and kissed him back.
Nothing intimate, he thought, enjoying the softness of her lips as they brushed against his. She shrugged her arms free of his hold and put her hands on his shoulders.
He breathed in the scent of her body. The outdoors, the faint fruitiness of the wine and a feminine sweetness that was unique to her.
He rested the tips of his fingers on her waist and slowly moved to her back. She felt different than Stacey. Shorter, curvier. At the thought of his late wife, he prepared to drown in memories and guilt. But there was nothing inside of him but a growing hunger.
He shifted his hands higher, then slipped one up the back of her neck so he could bury his fingers in her short, silky hair. At the same time she erased the final step that separated them.
Her body pressed against his from shoulders to knees. His first impression was of heat and curves. Her breasts burned against his chest. Every cell of his body cried out for him to touch her. To feel the smooth, soft flesh, to taste her nipples and listen to her moan in pleasure. It had been four years since he’d been with a woman, but he remembered everything he wanted to do. It flashed into his mind, an X-rated movie starring the woman in his arms.
Knowing that wasn’t going to happen, he focused on their kiss. He moved to her jaw and kissed his way to her earlobe. Once there, he drew in the bit of flesh and nibbled until she sighed and her grip on him tightened. Her skin was soft and hot and tempting in ways he’d never imagined. The sound of her breathing filled him with need.
He moved down her neck,