His Baby, Her Heart

“It’s okay. I’m over it.” She shot him a breezy, careless smile. “I’m just surprised at you, that’s all.”

“Don’t be. Dena, this baby means a lot to me. I’ll be by your side every moment. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“A supportive man. What a novel concept.” She picked up the pen and signed at the bottom of the last page. “Okay, we’re done. I’m gonna go eat. I have a short lunch break before I have to get to another job.”

“We would have been finished sooner if you’d arrived on time,” Alex said. “And you would have had enough time to read the whole contract.”

“I’ve read enough.” She stood, turned to the door and zipped out.

Alex looked at Gary, whose mouth was open.

The attorney closed his lips with an audible snap.

“What came over her?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Alex left the office to follow Dena, who was halfway to her truck. He couldn’t help noticing the way her worn jeans clasped her fit, firm bottom. Stop it, Alex!

He shoved her derriere out of his thoughts before he caught up with her in the parking lot. “What’s going on? I thought you were going to work over that contract with a fine-toothed comb.”

“So did I.” Dena unlocked the door of her truck.

“Wait right there.” Alex trotted to his car, opened the trunk and removed his tool kit. Finding some solvent in a spray can, he returned to Dena, who now sat inside her pickup.

“Turn your head.” Alex sprayed the hinges. He wanted the mother of his child in perfect health before the embryo was implanted, so he used his free hand as a screen to keep the vapor away from Dena’s nostrils.

He accidentally touched her cheek with his palm. Startled, he jerked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shaken. Though she worked outside, her skin wasn’t roughened by the sky and wind. Instead, she felt satin smooth, petal soft.

Again, he inhaled her scent. He ignored it.

Dena lurched back into the seat, her full lips pale and set. “Did I get some in your eyes? I tried not to.” He capped the oil container.

“It’s okay.” But she still looked teary.

“So why did you sign the contract?”

Dena squirmed in her seat. “B-because I trust you.”

He stared at her for several seconds before he remembered to smile. Dena Randolph had complimented him. Must be a historic occasion. As far as he knew, she’d never said anything nice about him. He was aware she called him Android Accountant Alex, the Corporate Clone. “Are you feeling all right?”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Not really. I’m hungry. I need to eat before my next job, and you probably want to go back to work.”

“Yeah, well, yeah.” He was completely tongue-tied. Alex hadn’t known that contact with Dena Randolph could cause loss of his voice and his sanity.

As she drove away, he stood in the parking lot watching the retreating tailgate of her truck. He remained motionless long after it had disappeared from view.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand either her bitterness or her surprise at his conduct. A supportive man. What a novel concept. Her sour attitude didn’t make sense. Tamara had described a happy childhood. Neither of his mother-in-law’s husbands had left, they’d died. Dena hadn’t come from a broken home.

If she’d truly gotten over Steve’s desertion, why the cynicism?

Scratch a cynic and there’s an idealist whose heart’s been broken. Where had Alex heard that before?

Today, Dena had revealed depths he hadn’t known existed. What strange new relationship would he and Dena forge?

Alex shook his head to clear his mind of all stray thoughts. None of this mattered. Only the baby mattered, but he knew that Dena’s emotions would affect his unborn child’s development.

His task was clear. He’d protect Dena and keep her happy, despite his mixed feelings about the woman.

And she was absolutely not going to get to him. Alex sucked in a deep breath, remembering the sweep of Dena’s red hair over her flushed cheeks, her voluptuous breasts pressing against her T-shirt, and her backside in those tight, faded jeans. He couldn’t repress his groan.

He had lustful thoughts about his dead wife’s sister. What was wrong with him?

Clutching the steering wheel, Dena turned out of the parking lot and onto Alhambra Boulevard. He’d gotten to her. Android Alex had managed to slip under her skin and make her cry.

Like a chigger.

Dena remembered Steve’s reaction when they’d learned she was pregnant. He’d been…startled, then accepting. But he’d chafed under the changes she made in their lives. She socialized less and slept more. She quit making caffeinated coffee in the mornings and didn’t serve wine or beer. She’d asked him to smoke his cigarettes outside.

He’d rebelled against the idea of assisting her with the birth, chuckling that he never could stand the sight of blood. So going with her to Lamaze was out.

When he’d seen on the ultrasound screen two hearts beating in her womb, he’d fallen silent. She’d been excited and assumed that his reaction meant that he was too stunned with joy to speak.

Less than a month later, her husband—the man with whom she’d made a lifelong commitment—was gone, after cheating on her with every willing woman in the neighborhood. A geologist, Steve had dumped his boring government job to chase his dreams of wealth in the Saudi Arabian oil fields.

He’d discarded his family the way a snake sheds its skin. He hadn’t contested the divorce. Occasionally he sent support checks. He wrote or phoned the twins even more rarely.

Steve Randolph had never met his children.

Dena stopped at a light and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Waves of anger swept through her, leaving her shaky. Try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the rage that always engulfed her when she thought about Steve. This doesn’t help, she told herself. She’d never move forward with her life if she couldn’t find peace in her own soul with Steve and his betrayals.

She threw Steve out of her mind. He was the past. He didn’t matter anymore.

When the light changed to green, Dena accelerated through the intersection.

And now Alex Chandler wanted to be her Lamaze partner. Deeply touched by the promise he made to stay by her side when the baby came, she felt she had to sign the contract.

But now she had regrets. Had she acted too hastily?

She supposed she should be grateful for his caring attitude, but she didn’t trust him, and the habit of independence from men had become deeply ingrained.

If Alex was going to be her Lamaze coach, that meant he’d be present when she gave birth. That he wanted to be there hadn’t occurred to her. She didn’t want such intimacy with Alex Chandler. She didn’t like it. It made her feel…invaded, intruded upon.

On the other hand, she’d agreed to bear his child. Few acts were more intimate. But the surrogacy made a mockery of intimacy, didn’t it? The baby would be Tamara’s, not hers.

Dena shook her head. She didn’t want to get close to Alex in any way. He was her sister’s husband. Intimacy would seem just plain weird.

She remembered the touch of his hand on her cheek, which had been the first time a man had touched her for years. The gentle stroke had felt warm and tingly. Good. Too good.

She reminded herself that the caress had been accidental, and his concern for her based on the fact that she’d be the vessel for his child.

They’d never liked each other and probably never would.

Chapter Two

In some strange way, driving Tamara’s sleek, silver Jag made Alex feel closer to her. Yet even this fuzzy-warm nostalgia for Tami couldn’t mask his nervousness at the thought of seeing Dena again. He fingered the bundle of papers on the leather seat as he turned onto Fair Oaks Boulevard, fighting rush-hour traffic all the way.

Dena hadn’t taken a copy of the surrogacy contract with her when she abruptly left Gary’s office. Although a secretary could have mailed it, Alex liked having an excuse to drop by. He needed to visit Dena. He wanted to keep tabs on the woman who would carry his child.

Why had Tamara selected her half sister? Alex tapped the steering wheel with exasperated fingers. Would matters be easier with a stranger? Perhaps, but Dena was an honest person who wouldn’t break her word. She’d give up the baby to him when the time came, so Alex could devote himself to his and Tamara’s child.

He made a right turn onto Shadownook. At the end of the tree-lined cul-de-sac stood the old house that the Randolphs had bought when they discovered Dena’s pregnancy. Set back from the shallow curb, the rambling two-story home looked as though it had been designed for a houseful of kids. The open garage held her old clunker of a truck. Nearby, gardening tools hung on the wall in neat rows.

When Alex parked at the end of the driveway, he could see the twins’ tree house nestled on a low branch of one of the huge old oaks rimming the property. Raised-bed gardens, clothed in new spring leaves, dotted the wide lawn. Kneeling, Dena dug in one, intent upon some unknown task.

He could see Jack and Miri playing on the lawn with Dena’s golden retriever. Smiles lit the twins’ grubby faces. Their dark hair stood up in spikes; the knees of their pants were torn and dirty.

Alex opened the Jag’s door. Now he could hear the kids at play. The twins’ raucous shouts changed to squeals of delight.

“Unka Alex! Unka Alex!” Oblivious to his charcoal-gray three-piece suit, Miri hugged him around the knees. She left smears of mud on his slacks.

Alex repressed a wince, knowing that the suit could be cleaned, but a child’s broken heart might never mend. He picked up the little girl, allowing her to give him a big kiss, sticky with some mysterious snack she’d eaten. All the Cohens—even the Cohen-Randolph kids—were very touchy-feely, unlike the Chandlers. Alex hoped to achieve a happy medium with his child.

“Uncle Alex!” Jack hollered, his little legs pumping as he raced toward Alex. “Mom! Uncle Alex is here!”

Alex walked toward Dena, still carrying Miri. Jack trailed behind.

“Hello, Dena.”

She looked up. Knee-deep in the loamy bed, which was half-planted with strawberry seedlings, Dena epitomized the perfect gardener. Wearing a battered straw hat, knee pads strapped around her coveralls, and sturdy gloves to protect her hands, Dena was dressed to kill…weeds.

She swiped a stray red hair off her face, leaving a streak of dirt on one high cheekbone. “Hi, Alex.”

“Mommy, can Unka Alex stay for dinner?” Miri asked. “You said we have to love him more now that Auntie Tami’s gone.”

Smiling, Dena met Alex’s clear blue gaze. “Of course Uncle Alex can have dinner with us, if he wants.”

Alex felt his neck flush. So they’d discussed him. Not surprising. The Cohens were chatty as well as touchy-feely. Embarrassed but pleased, he said, “I’d like to stay if it doesn’t inconvenience you. There are a few things I want to go over later.”

“Yay! Uncle Alex, Uncle Alex!” Jack tried to climb up Alex to join Miri.

“Jack, don’t grab at Uncle Alex’s belt. He’ll pick you up when he’s ready.”

Miriam smirked.

“Miri, stop that. Both of you, go play catch with the dog. Goldie!” Dena’s high, sharp whistle sliced through Alex’s eardrums.

Dena’s golden retriever trotted up, two tennis balls clutched in her jaw. Goldie’s tail waved and she rubbed against Alex, leaving a load of her blond hairs on his pants. She looked at his face with adoring brown eyes.

Alex put down Miriam. “Miri, get a ball from Goldie and go play.” He didn’t want dog spit all over his hands.

The twins scampered away with the dog. “Alex, could you keep an eye on them?” Dena asked. “After I get the rest of the strawberry sets planted, I need to shower and make dinner.”

“Oh, sure.”

“If you want to stay out of the firing line, you can sit on the porch.” Dena nodded at the screened veranda circling her weathered, redwood home.

While the kids romped with Goldie, Alex took his briefcase and the contract from the Jag, then retreated to the enclosed porch. He settled himself on a rattan couch upholstered in a flower print. Dividing his attention between Dena and the twins, he flipped through the Wall Street Journal.

Dena soon finished and went into the house. She emerged a few minutes later with two beers in hand. She plopped down next to Alex on the couch, offering him a bottle.

“When can you go to the doctor’s office for the implant procedure?” Alex gave her the copy of the surrogacy contract she’d left in Gary’s office.

She dropped it onto the couch between them. A symbol of their divisions, he thought.

But she sat close enough to touch. “When do you want this baby born?”

He caught her scent, something flowery. To cover his unease at her nearness, he took a swig of his beer. “I never thought about it. Does it make a difference?”

“It may be an old wives’ tale, but a lot of people think that children born in the spring and summer have a better chance at life.” Dena twisted off the cap from her bottle.

“In what ways?”

“Higher birth weight, lower infant mortality, that sort of thing.” She sipped her beer.

Alex winced at the thought of infant mortality. How could Dena sound so casual? “But we’d have to wait until August to have a baby born in May. That’s five months away.” Besides, he didn’t want to base anything about his baby on rumors or myths. He preferred research. “I think we should start right away. The first implant might not take.”

“You mean I might have to do this procedure more than once?” Dena set her bottle onto the floor next to her feet.

Alex faltered. “I’m afraid so. Remember what happened with Tamara? We could never get an embryo to stay.”

Dena’s soft, full lips tightened. “I’m sorry you and Tamara had to go through that. We can start whenever you’re ready. Just give me enough notice so I can reschedule my jobs and find child care for the twins.”

“Can Irina watch the twins? I’d volunteer, but I’d like to be nearby.”

“Hmm. If you want Mom to baby-sit you have to check with her. Obviously she’s my first choice, but we have to work around her catering jobs and her production schedule. The director won’t allow the twins on the set.”

Dena’s mother, caterer Irina Cohen, starred in a cable television show, Irina Cooks! It had made Ashkenazi Jewish cuisine wildly popular in the Sacramento area. “Why not?” Alex asked.

“You didn’t hear? Oh, this happened when you took Tamara to that cancer place back east.”

“Sloan-Kettering.” The treatments there had left Tami sick and bald. Alex swallowed down the painful memories with a gulp of brew.

“Yeah. Mom took the kids to the set one day, sure everyone would love her adorable grandchildren.”

“They really are cute.” Messy, but cute. Alex watched Jack tease Goldie with a tennis ball. Far from seeming offended, the retriever wagged her tail and barked, jumping up and down. She chased Jack around the side of the house.

“Anyway, Miri got into the food. She was in her meal-wearing phase, when everything went into her hair or on her chest.”

“She must have been quite a sight.” Alex knew that his child would never do any such thing.

Dena continued, “You know how much Jack likes to climb? He got onto one of the gaffer’s booms.” Picking up her bottle, she stood and stretched. The movement lifted her breasts inside her snug T-shirt. “Well, I’m gonna hit the shower. See ya in a while.”

The door slammed behind her as she went into the house.

Alex picked up the newspaper, but the discussion of mutual fund investments in high-tech security systems couldn’t hold his interest.

Unwittingly, his thoughts strayed to Dena. He imagined her ascending the stairs, entering her bedroom and stripping off her dirty clothes, exposing her strong body and round breasts. They’d rise higher when she unclipped her long, wavy hair.

He yanked his mind back to a columnist’s analysis of the Fed’s recent change in interest rates. This train of thought was disrespectful to Tamara. Besides, he didn’t find Dena attractive. Did he?

She’d switch on the shower and step in, wiggling her toes with pleasure at the splash of the warm water. When she shampooed, the water would slick her hair into dark, wild whips. Foam would cascade down her curvy form, clinging to her nipples. Without inhibition, she’d toss her head when she rinsed.

Was Dena’s libido as fiery as her mane?

What was he thinking? His X-rated fantasies starring Dena shocked him. He hadn’t found anyone sexy for well over a year—hadn’t had an erotic impulse since Tamara had started chemo and grown so sick. He’d devoted himself to her healing. Then, when it became clear she wasn’t going to make it, he’d helped to ease her way out of this world into a better place.

His body’s yearning spun him into tumult. He hadn’t wanted to make love for months. And now, it was Dena Randolph who had prodded his dormant libido into life.

Dena, of all people. She didn’t turn him on, he silently argued to himself. It was just that he’d been without a woman for so very long. She happened to be nearby when the natural reawakening of his sexual urges took place.

His soul cried out for Tamara. In a way, he felt he was losing her again. Another little bit of his life with her had receded into the past.

He desperately wanted to make love again, but he could never have the woman he needed: his wife. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, he accepted that he’d never again touch her, never hold her, never bury himself deep inside her.

Never love her.

He blinked back tears. Dear God, how he missed Tami. He took out a handkerchief and rubbed his face.

Closing his eyes, he recalled one of their last conversations. She’d framed his face in her hands and, looking at him with those lovely blue eyes, said, “Alex, listen to me. After I’m gone, I want you to go on.”

He’d argued with her, telling her that she’d soon be well and they’d be happy together again.

She’d shaken her head. “No. Please don’t belittle me by hiding the facts. I know I’m dying. Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll go on. Promise me you’ll have a good life, Alex. Promise me you’ll find someone to love.”

Now he leaned back and sighed. “I’m trying, Tami,” he said aloud. “But it’s so damn hard—”

A wet nose thrust into his palm, making his body jerk and his thoughts scatter. Goldie again nudged his hand, inviting him to play. Alex blinked, returning to the present.

He looked across the lawn for the twins, but Dena’s yard, dim and quiet in the waning light, held no chattering, screeching children.

Where were the twins? Jumping to his feet, Alex scanned the front yard. Guilt flooded him. How could he have been so inattentive?

He groaned. If he couldn’t watch two four-year-olds, how could he raise a baby alone? How did Dena do it? His respect for her soared.

His shoes clattering down the three wooden steps to the lawn, Alex left the veranda when he realized that he couldn’t see anything. He strode to the rear of the house. The backyard had an eastern exposure and didn’t catch any of the western sun.

“Jack! Miri!” he called.

Alex could hear the low murmur of a fountain, part of a water feature Dena had installed last summer. He walked over to make sure that neither of the kids had gone swimming. His mind refused to entertain the possibility that one had drowned.

Water chuckled over the rocks lining the pond Dena had created. A turtle raised its head, then ducked as Goldie approached. The retriever nudged Alex’s hand, then dropped a wet ball into it.

“Yuck!” Alex restrained himself from wiping his palm on his gabardine trousers. Holding the ball with only his fingertips, he tossed it for the dog.

Goldie chased it to the front of the house. Alex followed. On the way, he checked the foliage for twins.

Nothing.

He broke into a sweat despite the cool evening air. Where could they be? He checked the trees. Though Jack enjoyed climbing, they were clear. Then he spotted the twins’ tree house, a makeshift shack that a previous homeowner must have built years before the Randolphs moved in. He could see someone had improved it—Dena?—because fresh slats secured it to the big old valley oak in which it was anchored. The rope ladder that dropped from it to the lawn looked new.

Alex eyed the ladder, then his wing tips. He frowned. He didn’t want to climb up to the tree house. Although Dena had fortified it, he didn’t know if the flimsy structure could bear an adult’s weight.

“Jack? Miri!”

Silence.

But the little scamps could be hiding. He’d bet money that, on some days, their favorite sport was eluding Uncle Alex.

With a resigned sigh, Alex set his right foot into one of the lower rungs of the ladder, then skipped two as he climbed. After a few steps, he could peek into the twins’ lair.

Empty.

He turned to descend as a voice came from the screened porch. “Alex?”

His foot slipped.

“Alex, what on earth—”

His other foot tangled in the ropes, and he fell to the soft, cold grass at the bottom of the tree. Embarrassed but unhurt, he took a moment to mourn his charcoal-gray suit. He feared it had taken too much abuse to survive. No doubt it was a goner.

He raised his head. Light from inside the house streamed through the stained glass inserts in the front door, illuminating the March evening.

Dena, freshly bathed and clad in a pink chenille bathrobe, stood on the porch. He could see her wet hair in a twist at the crown of her head, with a damp curl sticking to her cheek.

The twins, in a similar clean condition, stared at him. Dena carried Miri, who wore a red robe. Jack, clad in green sweats, had climbed onto a table, presumably to get a better view of Uncle Alex making a fool of himself.

He didn’t want to admit that he’d been searching high and low for the twins. They’d obviously gone inside for their baths while he’d been lost in an erotic fantasy about their mother.

Goldie ambled over to Alex, stuck her nose into his face and chuffed in a friendly way. He caught the odor of kibble. She licked him.

Alex knelt, then stood. The seat and knees of his trousers felt damp. Probably grass-stained, as well. The elbows of his jacket were trashed. The dog had left golden hairs and saliva on his clothing.

Dena’s home, glowing in the night, beckoned him to its warmth.

Chapter Three

Alex looked disheveled, a state in which Dena had never seen him at any time during his marriage to Tamara.

“Alex, use the little bathroom here to clean up. Dinner’s in five, okay?” Dena held the front door open for him. “Kids, help me set the table.”

If I cared about Alex, I’d be really worried about him, Dena thought as she led the twins and the dog to the kitchen. Despite herself, her heart went out to the poor guy. He’s devastated by losing Tamara. Dena knew a dose of the twins would lift his spirits. Jack and Miri could test the patience of several saints, but they were sweet children who adored Alex.

Dena had worked hard to make her kitchen a cozy, homey place. A white-tiled counter separated the work space from the breakfast nook, where her family ate most meals at a big, wood farmhouse table. The twins’ artwork decorated her refrigerator. Her daughter seemed to prefer flowers, butterflies and turtles, while Jack consistently drew houses with three-person families outside the front door. He even tried to include Goldie, though without much success.

Miri went to the low, whitewashed cupboard that housed the silverware and plates. “One, two, three.” She counted blue-and-white gingham place mats. “Four, ’cuz Unka Alex is here, huh?” She put them on the table.

“That’s right, darling.” Dena turned to the refrigerator. She removed salad makings and put them on the wooden counter next to a bowl.