Christmas Baby. Judy Duarte
Читать онлайн книгу.
Shane said. “But he’s feeling a lot better now. Fortunately, he didn’t share his germs with the rest of the family.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Margie said before walking back to the kitchen with their orders.
“I take it she was talking about your boss and his kids,” Jillian said.
“Yep. Dan and Eva have two sets of twins. I’ll probably take you out to meet them while you’re here.”
“I’d like that.”
She would? Shane took that to be another good sign that she didn’t find Brighton Valley to be a hick town or a total waste of her vacation time.
“I’m wondering, though. How do your friends feel about our living arrangement? What did you tell them about me?”
“Dan and Eva are two of the nicest people you’ll meet. I told them the truth—that we met in Houston, that we conceived a child and that we need to sort through some things. They actually asked me to bring you out to the ranch.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, then surveyed the diner. When her gaze returned to his, she gave a little shrug. “But what about everyone else in town? They all seem to know each other—and what’s going on in their lives. What have you told them about me?”
“Just that we’re friends. It’s really none of their business.”
As she reached for her glass and took a sip of water, he wondered if she was concerned about being fodder for gossip.
He supposed there were some people who might find her condition and her presence in town worthy of discussion, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Opting to change the subject and to get her mind off the small-town rumor mill, he asked, “Have you ever been on a ranch before?”
“No, so it ought to be interesting. I’d also like to see where you work.”
It was another way to get to know him better, he supposed. He couldn’t blame her for that.
He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “I’ve got an idea. After dinner, let’s take a walk.”
“All right, but where?”
“Just outside the diner. We can check out some of the shops on Main Street. I think you’d enjoy that. You might also be surprised at how much fun it is to people watch in this town.”
Jillian blessed him with a pretty smile. “That sounds great.”
It did? That was better news yet, especially since Shane planned to convince Jillian that Brighton Valley wasn’t just a little Podunk town.
And that it would be an ideal place to raise their child.
Jillian and Shane spent the evening window shopping along the main drag of Brighton Valley. Along the way, she’d also met some of the more colorful citizens who called the small town home, like Anson Pratt, who sat outside the drugstore, whittling small wooden animals to give to the kids in the pediatric ward at Brighton Valley Medical Center.
On several occasions, her shoulder had brushed against Shane’s. Each time it happened, she’d been tempted to slip her hand into his.
She’d been alone for months, determined to create a home for her baby while she chased her dream to teach. And now, as she strolled along one of Brighton Valley’s quaint, tree-shaded streets, she relished Shane’s musky scent and the soul-stirring sound of his soft Southern drawl.
With each step they took, the memory of their lovemaking grew stronger, triggering an almost overwhelming sense of sexual awareness and urging her to reach out to him, to take whatever he had to offer.
Instead, she continued to walk by his side, convinced that she needed to fight temptation. After all, she might want to pin her hopes on him as her lover and her baby’s father, but it was way too soon for that.
What if it was all an act? What if he was only playing the part of a nice guy?
It was a risk she wasn’t willing to take this early in the game.
Yet that didn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying their evening as they toured the shops, chatting about things as Shane gave her his tour. She’d especially found it interesting to learn that Darla Ortiz, who owned the hair salon, had been a Hollywood actress back in the day.
“Darla has a wall full of framed, black-and-white head shots of various movie stars who were popular forty and fifty years ago,” Shane said, “and each one is autographed to her.”
“That’s so cool! I’ll have to make an appointment while I’m here, just so I can see those photos.”
“Do you like old movies?” he asked, as if he’d just uncovered an interesting bit of Jillian trivia.
“My grandparents raised me, remember? So I spent a lot of time watching the classics on television.”
He grew pensive for a moment, then turned to her and brightened. “If you don’t mind spending a quiet evening at home, I can see if there are any good movies on TV.”
“Sure. That sounds good to me.”
Once they were back at the apartment, Shane reached for the remote and clicked on the television. Then he surfed the channels, pausing momentarily to catch a baseball score.
“I’m not finding anything too exciting,” he said, “but there’s an old Cary Grant movie that will be starting in a couple of minutes. Are you up for something like that?”
“Which one is it?”
“Father Goose, with Leslie Caron.”
“Ooh, that’s a good one.”
“You don’t mind seeing it again?”
“Not at all.”
Jillian wasn’t sure how Shane actually felt about spending the evening watching classic movies, especially one he might consider a chick flick, but she’d find out soon enough.
After placing the television remote on the glass-topped coffee table, Shane went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the microwave hummed. Before long, a popping sound let her know that he was making popcorn. She smiled at the thoughtful gesture.
“I’m going to make a root beer float,” he called, as he opened the freezer door. “Would you like one, too? I can also give you plain ice cream or something else to drink.”
“Are you kidding? I’d love one. I haven’t had a float since my grandfather died. Do you need some help?”
“Nope. I’ve got it.”
As the movie began, they took seats on the sofa, with the bowl of popcorn between them and root beer floats in hand, and soon fell into the story.
Shane laughed in all the appropriate spots, which Jillian took to mean that he found the old movie as entertaining as she did. But even if that wasn’t the case, she had to give him credit for being a good sport.
The film was a classic romantic comedy at its best, and as Jillian reached into the popcorn bowl, her fingers brushed Shane’s, sending a rush of heat up her arm.
As she glanced at him, she caught him looking at her.
For a moment, the only romance she could think about was the one brewing between her and Shane, especially since it was nearing the witching hour for lovers.
Not midnight, of course, but bedtime…
“Sorry,” she said, conjuring up an unaffected smile.
“No problem.”
As their gazes