Warrior's Baby

“How about some music?” Melanie turned the knob on the stereo and started punching buttons.

She settled on a country station, for his benefit, he assumed. Willie Nelson’s nasal twang should have been a balm, but it only reminded Colt of how far from home he was. The unfamiliar roar of traffic offended the simple cowboy tune.

Melanie glanced over her shoulder, switched lanes and questioned his pouting profile. “Colt, what’s wrong?”

He answered as honestly as he could. “I never cared much for cities.”

Melanie slid her right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on top of his, which rested on the center console. “You’ll like the beach,” she promised with a quick, reassuring squeeze. “We’re almost there.”

She was right The moment they exited the freeway and the sea breeze tousled his hair, he appreciated the freedom the rag top provided. When the Pacific Ocean came into view, a sense of well-being entered his soul. It looked as big as the Montana sky and just as blue.

Saltwater, fresh-grilled seafood, hot dogs and lemonade permeated the air. They passed a pier that looked like a street fair—a menagene of blinking lights, twirling carnival rides and trendy teenagers, their colorful T-shirts, baggy shorts and bleached blonde hair whipping in the wind.

The sidewalks were lined with people, but they were different from the airport crowd. They moved at a pace his eyes could follow, dressed in sandals, suntan lotion and little else. Maybe it was the warrior in him, but the half-naked, bronzed bodies made him want to shed his own clothes, feel the sand between his toes, dive into the surf, let the sun beat down on his back.

He grinned at Melanie. Her unique style fit right in. “Interesting town.”

“I knew you’d like it.” She continued down the busy coast highway, turned onto a narrow street and then another, until she parked in the driveway of an attractive white building.

Her condominium faced the ocean. A wood staircase led to the front door, elevating the modern structure. Just like her denim and silk wardrobe, the eclectic style reflected the woman who lived there. A marble coffee table, gilt-framed mirrors and contemporary artwork were surrounded by seashells and scented candles. White leather sofas highlighted an exquisite fireplace, meticulously carved of polished stone.

Colt placed their luggage on the living room floor and peered out the French doors. A redwood deck lush with potted plants, rattan furnishings and a whirlpool tub graced his eyes. Seaside elegance at its finest.

“Your house is really nice.” He had planned on booking a hotel room, but Melanie had extended her California hospitality, persuading him to stay with her. Their platonic relationship was off to an awkward start. Her condo seemed like a romantic getaway, a honeymoon suite.

“Thanks.” She glanced down at the suitcases. “I’ll show you to your room. It has a private bath, so if you want to freshen up...”

Freshen up? As in strip down and shower? Unconsciously he took a step back. “I think I should get a hotel room.”

She sank into one of the leather sofas and sighed. “Why?”

Because if I shower in your tub or sleep in one of your beds, I’ll want you there beside me. “Your neighbors might talk.”

Melanie looked as though he’d just said something incredibly stupid. “This is L.A., Colt.”

When she crossed her legs, her ruffled miniskirt exposed just enough thigh to constrict his throat. He’d been trying to avoid the outline of her curvaceous little figure all day. On the plane ride, she had fallen asleep against his shoulder, her scant Hawaiian print blouse gaping open for a private peep show. Pink satin, a hint of lace and not one visible tan line. He’d never been so aroused.

“So?”

“So, people don’t care what their neighbors do.”

“Oh, yeah?” He trapped her gaze. “Would they talk if they knew you were going to be a surrogate?”

She held his dark stare. “Probably, but that’s a little more controversial than having a man stay over.”

“Really?” In his hometown, people still talked about who slept at whose house. Her casual attitude piquing him, he spouted off like an envious suitor. “And just how many men have stayed here?”

Her voice vibrated “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

Colt only stared. She looked mortally wounded and, God help him, way too vulnerable. He gazed into Melanie’s eyes and shook off a chill. Suddenly she looked like someone from his past—a sweet, innocent girl who had touched his reckless, teenage heart.

The name came to him in an instant, hovering like a ghost. Gertrude. Little Gertrude. He glanced at Melanie’s hands, at the slender line of her fingers, the long, perfectly manicured nails. Gertrude used to chew her nails, gaze up at him with those wide blue eyes and nibble her chipped, brittle fingernails.

Colt sat on the edge of his suitcase and raked his hands through his hair, pushing away Gertrude’s fragile image. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m sorry. I had no right to say that.” What was wrong with him? He’d never felt possessive of a woman before. “I guess I’ve been thinking about how much gossip you and I are going to stir up back home.”

“There’s no way to avoid that.” Melanie twisted a tassel on one of the decorative pillows. “Our situation is unusual.”

He rocked the suitcase and tried not to stammer. “Sure, but... we could at least try to keep a low profile. Not dating other people while we’re expecting might keep some of the tongues from wagging.”

Colt blew an anxious breath and waited for her response. He couldn’t stand the thought of Melanie being with another man while she carried his child, not even something as innocent as dinner or a movie.

Her near-timid smile warmed his heart. “Can we put that in the contract?” she asked. “Because you’re the one who will still be trim and attractive. I doubt anyone’s going to want to date me four or five months from now.”

“I’ll take you out so you don’t get lonely,” he said, telling himself it would be for the sake of the baby. “And I promise not to get involved with anyone if you don’t.” A married surrogate was one thing, but making a single woman pregnant and dating another seemed disrespectful. “A jealous lover could create stress and even more gossip,” he said, trying to justify his odd request. “We don’t need either.”

When she promptly agreed and extended her hand, he clasped it in his. As they shook on the verbal agreement, Colt realized how unusual their situation was.

“And I am going to rent a hotel room while I’m here,” he reiterated, breaking contact. Her fingertips were too soft, the feminine touch warm and inviting. “Regardless of what you say, people talk. I’ve tarnished enough reputations in the past. I don’t need yours on my conscience, too.”

The following evening Melanie convinced Colt to accompany her to the mall. They’d spent the morning apart and the afternoon together. She’d attended a business meeting while he explored the beach. By noon, they’d met for lunch and began packing immediately thereafter. He’d worked in the kitchen, she’d been in her bedroom. When she’d tackled the grueling task of organizing her closet and choosing a suitable Montana wardrobe, she’d decided shopping for fashionable maternity clothes was definitely in order.

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