The Baby Legacy

Too bad, because he made her wish, just for a moment, that she was available and unencumbered. He was a very attractive man. No doubt the hot flash that engulfed her had more to do with her hormone level than his great cheekbones or his sexy mouth, but having a child who looked like him would be no great hardship.

The rest of the class was waiting for them. As soon as Mac followed her inside, the instructor shut the door behind them.

“Welcome to ‘We’re Having a Baby,”’ the woman said with a smile as Megan hurried over to a couple of empty chairs at the edge of the group, near a pile of mats and pillows. Her footsteps echoed loudly on the vinyl floor. Being the center of attention always made her uncomfortable.

“I’m Dr. Claire Davis,” the instructor continued, “and from the number of maternity outfits I see, you all appear to be in the right place.”

The five other women and their partners chuckled appreciatively while Mac sat down next to Megan.

“I’m a pediatrician here at the clinic,” the doctor continued. She was a slim, pretty woman with dark red hair, blue eyes and a warm smile. Megan wondered if Mac found Dr. Davis attractive. “Several of us on the medical staff are assigned to these classes on a rotating schedule.” She picked up a clipboard and glanced at it. “I’ll be your instructor for the next six weeks and we’ll all be working together closely, so please call me Claire. Now it’s your turn to introduce yourselves. Tell us whatever you’d like everyone to know.” She glanced at Mac and Megan. “Let’s start with you.”

Wondering if anyone else here had gone the artificial insemination route, Megan stood up and gave her name. As she glanced at the others, all paired off and smiling, she felt like the only girl at the dance without a date.

“And who’s this with you?” the doctor prompted gently.

Megan glanced at the man standing beside her, but her mind went blank. Someone giggled. He shifted closer, his hand curling warmly around hers.

“I guess she’s forgotten,” he teased, the twinkle in his eyes taking away any possible sting as a smile tugged at his mouth. “You’d think we just met.”

Megan stiffened. Was he going to pretend that they, too, were a couple, or spill the beans and humiliate her?

His dark eyes seemed to say “trust me.” Fingers laced with hers, he introduced himself to the group. “We live right here in town,” he added.

She knew he was only playing a role, but for the first time since she’d made her decision to have this child, she felt like part of a team. This time when he grinned at her, she managed to smile back at him.

“Are you the father?” asked a girl who looked barely old enough to be pregnant.

“Let’s not ask personal questions,” the doctor interjected. “We’ll volunteer what we’d like the group to know.” She glanced back at Mac and Megan, but neither spoke again.

Megan wondered if anyone could tell that they barely knew each other. She certainly wasn’t ashamed of the method she had used to become pregnant, but neither was she eager to justify herself to a room full of happy couples.

“Well, thank you,” the doctor said after a moment. “We have a lot of material to cover tonight, so let’s move on.”

The two of them sat back down and Megan disentangled herself from Mac’s grip. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I’m not usually so inept.”

“No problem.” He shifted slightly away from her. Apparently she’d been right that his show of unity had been just that, an act for the others. Wasn’t that what she wanted—her independence? Before she could sort through her feelings, another couple, both wearing rings, stood up and began talking excitedly.

There were a dozen people in all, including a mother and daughter, another pair who appeared to be platonic friends, a man and woman who kept touching each other and exchanging smoldering glances, and two married couples each having their first baby. None of the other women were as big as Megan.

Glancing at the wall clock, Claire explained what they would be covering in class. “Tonight we’re going to talk about breathing and relaxation techniques to use during labor and delivery. We’ll spread out the mats and go over a few simple positions that will keep you comfortable as your pregnancies progress,” she said. “While you’re practicing, I’ll discuss your baby’s development.” She pulled down a chart that showed the stages of the fetus’s growth in living color.

Megan didn’t look at Mac, but she wondered whether he was having second thoughts yet. The huge colored photographs had to be more than he’d bargained for.

“Next time we’ll tour the labor ward,” Claire continued. “Later on we’ll also cover the Lamaze and Bradley methods of childbirth, the stages of labor, some visualization techniques, the various kinds of anesthetics and how they’re administered, unexpected events, postpartum recovery and infant care.” She glanced around the room. “We’ll review bottle feeding, bathing the newborn and diaper-changing. There will be plenty of time for questions and discussion, so don’t hold back.”

When no one said anything, she directed them to select from the pile of mats and pillows. Feeling awkward, Megan followed her instruction to lie down while Mac knelt beside her.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked in an under-tone as Claire described what she wanted them to do.

Comfortable? Megan felt like the proverbial beached whale who’d washed up at the feet of an extremely attractive beachcomber. If their baby was a boy, she hoped he looked like his father.

“I’m okay,” she stammered when she realized Mac was waiting for an answer. When had she started thinking of this as their baby?

Mac was watching her with a concerned frown, so she did her best to give him a reassuring smile although she felt very awkward when Claire urged them to use the pillows to try the different positions she was describing.

“As your weight increases, you’ll need to make more adjustments,” she said. Her glance at Megan was sympathetic, making her feel even more clumsy. She must look as ridiculous as she felt.

Mac was glad when the exercise was over and he could get to his feet. Trying to help Megan shift and turn on the mat had been an awkward experience, considering that they barely knew each other and he was never quite sure where to touch her.

From the pink in her cheeks, he assumed she found their situation equally uncomfortable. Perhaps this had all been a big mistake. In the week since he’d gotten the letter from the clinic, he’d thought a lot about what he was getting into.

Now he took Megan’s hand and carefully helped her to her feet. Their eyes met and that intriguing splash of color ran up her cheeks again. She looked away, but not before Mac heard her sharply in-drawn breath. No doubt the baby was crowding her lungs or something equally clinical.

Claire called for a short break. There was a general exodus from the room and Megan’s gaze followed the others.

“I need to, um, use the restroom,” she said softly. “Pregnancy does that.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Mac replied. “Maybe there’s a coffee machine somewhere. Want some?”

She shook her head. “Caffeine’s bad for the baby. I’d better get in line.”

Feeling like an idiot, he watched her leave the room.

“How’s it going?” Claire asked him when everyone else was gone.

“I just realized how little I know about this,” he admitted.

“The class?” she asked with a chuckle. “That’s why you’re here.”

“No, the whole deal about having a child,” he replied, wondering how much she had been told.

Claire patted his arm and smiled. “You’re not alone,” she said. “First time father?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Just saying it made him feel good. A foolish grin spread across his face.

“The best thing you can do is to talk to your partner,” Claire suggested. “There’s no better way to share in the experience than communication. And be sure to ask questions while you’re here. No matter how trivial it may seem, you’ll only be putting into words what someone else is wondering about, too.”

Before he could thank her for the advice, three of the women came back. They were laughing and he heard the words “potty breaks” and “shrinking bladder” before he saw Megan trail after them. He remembered Claire’s words.

“Would you like to stop somewhere afterwards?” he asked Megan when she joined him. They needed to talk.

Her gaze was guarded. “What for?”

“How about ice cream?” he asked. “With hot-fudge topping?”

“You make it hard to say no,” she admitted with a slight smile.

Relieved, Mac cupped her elbow. “That was my intention.” If he had his way, she would agree to everything he suggested.

Chapter Three

It was all Megan could do to wait for Mac to slide into the red vinyl booth across from her before she dug into her sundae. They’d agreed to meet at the Dairy Freeze near the clinic, where he had insisted on paying for her ice cream along with his own. Ordinarily that kind of macho taking-care-of-the-little-woman gesture set her teeth on edge, but he’d done it with a wink that made her feel more like an attractive female than an overweight incubator.

“Humor me,” he’d pleaded, as if he understood that she was used to paying her own way. Refusing would have been churlish.

Now he took a bite of his banana split as she ate a mouthful of ice cream and closed her eyes in sheer bliss. The creamy sweetness exploded on her tongue and slid down her throat like a sigh.

How had he known she’d been fighting a major chocolate craving all day? She’d given up caffeine and alcohol, and she watched what she ate, but in the last eight months chocolate had become an obsession. Because of those first insistent cravings, she’d suspected she might be pregnant even before she’d used the home test.

When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with blatant curiosity. Embarrassed, Megan looked away as an old song about a teen angel spun around them. The Dairy Freeze was decorated with fifties memorabilia, including miniature jukeboxes at each booth and black vinyl records—45s—scattered over the walls.

“This is pretty good,” Mac said of his ice cream, breaking the awkward silence between them. “Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”

“Thanks for asking.” Megan licked fudge sauce from her spoon, sneaking peeks at him as he continued to study her openly. His interest spiked her temperature. She liked his weathered face. His dark, compelling eyes were fringed with lashes any woman would kill for. His hair was a warm brown, combed off his wide forehead and cut nearly short enough to disguise its tendency to wave. With luck, his genes would breed true.

He oozed masculinity and she had his undivided attention. Just because she was as big as a house didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the company of a handsome man. Too darned bad he was only assessing her as breeding stock.

Under his prolonged scrutiny she began to wonder whether her mascara had smudged or she sported a smear of chocolate on her chin. What did he think of her?

“I know nothing about you,” he said finally as the wailing ballad was replaced by energetic surfer music that made Megan want to tap her foot. “What do I ask first?”

Not sure how to reply, she shoveled in more ice cream. “What do you want to know?” she asked, mouth full.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re having this baby.” He certainly cut to the chase. “Your pregnancy wasn’t an accident. It had to be something you planned, but you don’t have a husband to share the responsibility.”

“And I don’t need one,” she said defensively. “I’ve never been married.” Now why had she volunteered that? “I wanted a baby and I’m perfectly capable of raising it alone.” What right did this man, this would-be anonymous donor, have to question her decision? There was no reason for her to justify it, not to him.

“What about your girlfriend?” she asked above the escalating drumbeat from the jukebox. “How does she feel about you being a donor to another woman?” Unless she was made of ice or didn’t really care about him, that had to hurt.

His mouth tightened. “I didn’t intend for the clinic to use my sperm.” He ignored the way her eyes must have widened in disbelief. “Before I started seeing Justine, I went to the clinic to help out a friend.”

“She must be some friend,” Megan drawled.

Mac’s cheeks darkened at her comment. “She was single and she wanted a baby. I guess you could understand that feeling?” His brows lifted sardonically.

Megan flushed at his tone. “Maybe. Why don’t you just go on with your story.”

“She changed her mind about the baby and now she’s married to a great guy. They’ll probably have their own family.”

One of the lucky ones, Megan thought.

“Unfortunately by the time I tried to inform the clinic that my donation was no longer needed, it was too late. The rest, as they say, is history.” His gaze flicked downward to where the table hid her stomach. “I still haven’t gotten an explanation from them for what happened.”

Megan sat back in the booth. Behind her a little boy began to bang his spoon on the table and whimper. She could hear his daddy attempting to soothe him. “And Justine?” she asked. “She’s okay with this?”

Mac ran a hand through his hair. On one finger was a ring with a dark red stone. His file said he was college educated. She’d have to ask about his major. “I have no idea how Justine feels. I haven’t told her.”

Megan frowned. What kind of man would keep something that important from the woman in his life? “Your relationship can’t be very serious,” she said without thinking.

To her surprise, instead of telling her to mind her own business, he merely shrugged as he considered the question. “A week ago I would have said it was, but now I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a nice woman.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s complicated.”

Megan hoped his complications had nothing to do with her baby. The last thing she wanted was for him to make any major changes because of this situation. Unlike hers, his entire life wasn’t going to revolve around the child. How did she come right out and caution him not to expect more from her than she was willing to allow? If she was wrong, she’d look like a fool and embarrass them both.

Perhaps it was time for a change of subject. “Tell me about your parents,” she suggested. “Are you a native?” She would have liked to ask how much interference she could expect from his side of the family. On second thought, it might be nice for her baby to have grandparents.

“I grew up in Denver,” he replied. “My parents still live there. How about you? Born and raised in Buttonwood?”

Megan remembered all the places she’d lived as a child, staying with a relative until she became an inconvenience and was shuffled to another like an unwanted package. A shiver of reaction went through her.

“I moved around a lot,” she admitted reluctantly, “but I’ve lived here for three years. I like the small-town atmosphere.”

She didn’t add that one of the things that had drawn her to Buttonwood was the fertility clinic. After several relationships that went nowhere, she’d finally figured out if she wanted to have a family, it was up to her to do something about it. She had gotten tired of waiting for the right man to come along and get her with child.

The Buttonwood Baby Clinic had seemed perfect for her needs, but she’d thought long and hard about taking such a momentous step, even after she had settled here. The way the clinic had botched the confidentiality issue had shaken her faith in that institution, but she was trying to keep an open mind until she got an explanation. If she ever did.

“You haven’t really answered my other question,” he reminded her. “Why do this now, while you’re on your own?”

His meaning was clear. “Lots of single women have children,” she said defensively.

His gaze remained steady. “And I respect them for it, but they don’t all go to the lengths you did to become pregnant.”

Her chin lifted. “It was my choice to make and I’m happy with it.”

He must have realized he wasn’t gaining any points by quizzing her, because he pressed his lips into a firm line as if he were holding back more questions.

From a nearby booth came a burst of masculine laughter. Two young couples were crowded into it, talking loudly. For a moment Megan envied them, and then she remembered her own adolescence. She’d never been like that—carefree, confident, bold enough to want attention.

Mac, too, glanced at the teens. “Do you work here in town?” Megan asked after he turned back around. When he’d pulled up beside her at the Dairy Freeze earlier, she had noticed some lettering on the door of his truck, but she hadn’t read it. He was tanned, even this early in the year, as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. Maybe he was a skier. Megan had tackled the bunny slopes on a few occasions, but she was far from competent. Or perhaps he worked construction. Considering the width of his shoulders and chest, he looked strong enough for physical labor.

“I own a local company called Small World,” he said. “We build playhouses.”

“Children’s playhouses?” she blurted.

His grin was resigned, as if he’d been asked the same question before. “Yeah, that’s right. Each one is custom designed, usually to duplicate the family home—on a much smaller scale, of course. I’ll have to show you some pictures of what we’ve done.”

Megan mulled that over. When she’d stayed with her aunt, there had been a dirty, abandoned chicken coop next door. Megan had pretended it was a playhouse until the neighbor caught her and complained.

“That sounds like a pretty cool job,” she told Mac, “but you must travel a lot.” How much demand would there be for custom playhouses in a town the size of Buttonwood, population 75,000?

“Some,” he admitted. “We have customers all over the country, and I cover a few exhibitions, but we do the actual planning and construction of each playhouse right here in town.” He poked at his melting ice cream with his spoon. “I’ll give you a tour.”

It was a throwaway line, like “let’s do lunch.”

“Sure,” she said, hardly able to resist scraping the leftover fudge sauce from the sides of her sundae dish bowl. What was it about chocolate? At home she’d stashed bowls of candy in strategic places. “It sounds like a fun job,” she conceded.

“It has its moments. How about you?” he asked. “Do you work?”

Did he think she was independently wealthy, having a child to relieve her boredom? “I index cookbooks.” Few people had any idea what that meant. From Mac’s puzzled expression, he was in the majority. “I edit the text and set up the index for the back of the book, so people can locate all the recipes for salmon or squash,” she explained.

His frown cleared. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I guess I figured whoever wrote the book did the index, too.”

“That’s what most people think, but it’s a separate skill.”

“Do you work for a local company?” he asked, managing to look interested.

“No, I freelance for several publishers on a regular basis. It’s all done by mail. I have a computer in my home office and I set my own hours.” That was the part most people envied, never realizing the discipline it took to stay on schedule or how many distractions there were working at home.

“You must be a very organized person.” His astuteness surprised her.

“I haven’t always been,” she confessed. “But with a baby coming, I’m getting better. I figured I’d have to.”

Abruptly Mac leaned forward. “I’ve thought about our baby a lot since I got that letter. I’m not sure just how we’ll work it out yet, but I want to play a real part in my child’s life.”

For a moment, his smile distracted her, and then the meaning behind his words sank in. “What exactly are you telling me?” she asked, warning flags popping up like spring bulbs.

“You don’t have to raise this baby alone.” He looked pleased with his announcement.

Megan didn’t share his satisfaction. She gripped the edge of the table as a chill slid down her spine. He was still a stranger. “I have every intention of doing just that,” she pointed out.

Her declaration bunched his dark brows into a frown. “What are you afraid of? We both want what’s best for our child.”

Our child! “I’m not afraid of anything,” she retorted. Honesty compelled her to add, “The idea of meeting you is still a new one for me. If it wasn’t for that letter, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

Mac looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I’ve been talking to the chief of staff at the clinic, Dennis Reid, but he hasn’t found anything out yet. Apparently the director had emergency surgery. Add some glitch with the computer system and everything’s been a mess ever since.”

“They should have some kind of backup plan,” she said, annoyed. “Think of the records that could be jeopardized.”

“No kidding.” His tone was dry.

“Why did you contact the chief of staff?” she asked. “Do you know him?” She’d never met the man, but she’d probably seen the name on some clinic directory.

“Yeah, we play racquetball.”

No wonder Mac appeared to be in such good shape. “Do you ski?” she asked.

He shrugged. “My parents are into it and I learned while I was growing up, but I don’t have much time for it anymore. Do you?”

“Not well.” She grinned. “And not lately.”

His answering smile was dazzling. “We’ll have to teach junior to ski,” he said.

The image of the three of them was a tempting fantasy to Megan, who had longed for a family of her own. She had to remind herself that Mac was only here because of the baby, not to forge some cozy relationship with her. His intentions might be sincere, his enthusiasm high at the moment, but who knew what the future would bring? Had he really thought about the long years involved in raising a child? It wouldn’t be smart to count on him too much.

“I’m not thinking that far ahead,” she said firmly.

“That’s understandable.” Did he realize she still had serious doubts about him? He struck her as a man who always got what he went after. What if what he wanted this time was her baby?

Panic hit, followed closely by a wave of exhaustion. She glanced at her watch, surprised by how late it was. She needed more sleep than usual and the added stress she’d been dealing with these last few days was starting to take its toll. She smothered a yawn.

“Tired?” Mac reached over to pat her free hand. His fingers were callused, but his touch was unbelievably warm. Startled by her vulnerability, she eased away from him on the pretense of shifting her purse. This wasn’t the time to start leaning on anyone. “It’s past my bedtime,” she explained. “Expectant mothers need more sleep.”

His expression cleared. “Of course, I nearly forgot—” He broke off abruptly.

What had he been about to say, that her pregnancy had slipped his mind? Not likely. He was probably referring to some of the side effects Claire had mentioned in class. Exhaustion, moodiness, insomnia, increased or diminished libido. She’d blushed at that one, but Mac hadn’t appeared to notice.

“Ready?” he asked now. When she nodded, he slid from the booth and held out his hand.

Megan considered pretending not to notice. The attraction she felt toward him would only complicate things. Then she decided a woman in her condition needed her thrills, too. She allowed him to help her to her feet and grimaced as she tried to maneuver herself out of the confined area of the booth.

His gaze dropped to her stomach and he swallowed, looking suddenly apprehensive.

“I’m not going into labor just yet,” she said with a sniff. “You don’t have to get nervous.”

His grin flashed and she had to stifle a sigh of response. “It shows? I’m trying to be stoic, but this is all pretty new stuff. I don’t have much experience with kids.”

Not knowing how to reply, Megan headed for the exit. Mac followed her out to her car as she wondered how wide her butt looked from the back. Digging out her keys and facing him, she felt as awkward as if she were bidding a blind date good-night.