Making Babies. Wendy Warren
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TV room to watch. What the bloody hell…
Pregnant? Was Elaine pregnant? The image of her womanly body entered his mind and lodged there as he slammed the door and strode back to the apartment with her books.
She was in front of the refrigerator, bending over as she squeezed vegetables into the crisper, her shorts inching up to expose a generous amount of smooth, lightly tanned skin. Had he actually called those shapely legs skinny?
Mitch dropped the book bags to the floor. Elaine glanced over her shoulder and smiled, the first genuine smile she’d given him since he’d shown up yesterday. The curve of her lips was as sweet and sexy as…as her other curves.
Feeling his mouth go dry, Mitch stood uselessly and stared until Elaine requested, “Would you hand me the rutabaga?”
He stared dumbly, making no response at all. She pointed. “The rutabaga. It’s right there by your—”
Mitch took the pointing hand and abruptly hauled Elaine to her feet, ignoring her surprise while his gaze fell immediately to her breasts, her stomach, looking, he supposed, for evidence and trying hard to dismiss the churning sense of…what? Of something acutely uncomfortable in the center of his gut.
How far along was she? When had she decided to get pregnant? Had she decided to?
And then it hit him. She was living here alone. No sign of anyone residing here with her and no mention—so far—of anyone moving in. No ring on her finger.
“Who is he?” The question sounded like Mitch had forgotten to move his jaws when he asked it.
Elaine reclaimed her wrist from his grasp with effort. “What is the matter with you?”
“Sorry,” Mitch bit out, referring to her wrist only. He still wanted information. “Who,” he said, controlling his temper with an effort he could only characterize as monumental, “is the sonovabitch who got you pregnant?”
For just a second, Elaine thought she might have blacked out and missed something. She eyed Mitch suspiciously. “Are you deranged?”
With one swift move, he grabbed her library bag, spilled its contents onto the partly cleared counter and waved his hand accusingly.
Oh, the books. She looked from them to Mitchell, who, at the moment, appeared as darkly forbidding as a character from The Scarlet Letter. Amusement tugged at her. He looked like he wanted to avenge her honor.
Biting the inside of her lip, she shrugged. “Just a boy I know.”
Mitch stepped forward with awful menace. “A boy you know?” he repeated as if he wanted to give her a chance to amend that.
“Well…” She reconsidered. “Knew.”
Watching him, Elaine almost wished she could pull a little plug to release some of the pressure she could practically see building in his head. “Don’t get so upset. I’m raising the baby on my own.”
“You had unprotected sex!”
“I suppose that would be true. Yes.”
“With a minor!” Mitch practically roared.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Elaine laughed. Taking her first stab ever at playing absolutely fluff-headed, she rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a miner. There aren’t even any mines around here. He worked for Lou’s Hardware. On school breaks.”
Mitch appeared to be in serious danger of becoming a cardiac statistic.
Elaine had no idea what had got into her. She was normally such an agreeable person. Yesterday afternoon after Stephanie’s unpleasant arrival, something in her had broken loose. She’d lost her final grip on the calm, circumspect, unchallenging woman she had become. She was going wild, and she rather liked it.
She did not, however, want to be responsible for Mitch having to start on blood pressure medication.
With her bottom still backed against the fridge, she leaned her upper body toward him. “I’m kidding,” she said, noticing for the first time that his scowl turned positively boyish when he became confused. “I’m not pregnant,” she clarified. “It was just a joke.”
“A joke.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not pregnant?”
“No.”
Mitch glanced at the bags near his feet and pointed. “What about the books?”
“You must not have looked at all of them.” Reaching into the Barnes & Noble bag, she handed him two thin volumes. Alternatives in Conception and Daddy Invisible—Everything You Wanted to Know About Artificial Insemination But Were Afraid to Ask.
“I am planning to have a baby,” she elaborated. “On my own.”
Mitch studied the titles, flipped the Daddy Invisible book over and scanned the back cover.
Crossing her arms again, Elaine leaned back against the refrigerator and waited patiently for the light to dawn.
It did. Mitch tapped the word Artificial. “You’re going to use…”
“A sperm donor. Yes.”
“Ooo-kay.” He tossed the books onto the counter and released some of the tension with a breath. “Whew. You know, I thought maybe you were getting reckless since your divorce. Some women do. They go temporarily…” He made a circling motion near his temple and whistled.
“Insane?” Elaine laughed. “No.”
“No.” Smiling, pressing his thumb and two fingers against his eyelids, Mitch chuckled with her. In a move so unexpected, Elaine never saw it coming, Mitch put both hands on the freezer unit above her head, bracketing her with his arms and growling into her stunned, upturned face. “You’re Just Out Of Your Ever-Lovin’ Mind!”
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