Having the Bachelor's Baby

But when the door opened it wasn’t Ben Walker on the other side of it. It was Cassie Walker.

“Hey there, stranger!” Clair’s old friend greeted her with a smile and a big hug. “I was hoping you’d get here before I left, and you just barely made it.”

“Cassie!” Clair responded with a full measure of relief echoing in her voice. She hadn’t expected her friend to be there but the fact that Cassie was helped immensely.

“Come in, come in,” Cassie encouraged. But despite the invitation, she didn’t make way for Clair because, as if the change in Clair had just registered, she said, “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” Clair confirmed, self-consciously fingering the short curls at her nape.

“It’s so cute. I love it on you. Even though I’m still mad at you.”

“You’re mad at me?”

“For the reunion. I can’t believe you left that night without telling me you were going and then didn’t even call before going back to Denver the next day. I don’t care if you were in a hurry to escape before you had to see Rob again.”

A second wave of relief washed through Clair. She’d called her friend a few days after the reunion, worrying that Cassie’s twin might have told her that he’d spent the night with Clair. But when it had become clear that Ben hadn’t said anything about it, Clair had given her friend the likeliest excuse—not wanting to see Rob again—to explain her hasty departure both from the reunion and from Northbridge the following morning. But for just a moment, Clair thought maybe Ben had told Cassie belatedly and her friend was genuinely angry. It was good that that didn’t seem to be the truth.

“Maybe we’ll have time to visit and catch up while I’m here now,” Clair said to appease her friend.

“I’m counting on it,” Cassie said. Then she obviously recalled that they were still standing in the doorway and said, “Oh, look at me—I told you to come in and then went right on blocking the door.” But this time she stepped out of the way.

Clair took her suitcase with her into the foyer and while Cassie closed the door behind her, Clair glanced around.

From what she could see, Ben Walker had left the lower level of the house just as her father had—just as it had been when the building had served as a private home. The large foyer had a hardwood floor and paneled walls with archways cut out of them to connect a living room to the right and a recreation room that housed a reproduction of an antique pool table to the left.

There was also a broad staircase directly across from the door, with hallways leading to the rear of the house on both sides of it. The space above the foyer was open to the second level where the staircase branched off in both directions to rise to the third floor.

Cassie aimed her chin up the stairs then and shouted, “Ben! Are you coming down? Clair’s here.”

He must have already been on his way before that because no sooner were the words out than his voice came in answer from the left branch of the staircase.

“On my way,” he said as work-booted feet and long, jean-clad legs with impressively muscular thighs came into view, followed by a leather tool belt slung low on a pair of narrow hips, a V-shaped torso with muscular chest, mile-wide shoulders and bulging biceps that were all barely contained in a plain white T-shirt.

“It was you who said you heard a car on the drive and then what do you do but disappear,” Cassie said to him as he reached the second-floor landing.

But not even that brought his gaze to them. Instead, stalled on the upper landing, he was so intent on replacing tools in the loops of his tool belt it was as if Cassie and Clair were only incidental.

“I wanted to close that paint can before I forgot,” he muttered.

Both Cassie and Clair stood there watching him, and as she did it struck Clair that he was even better-looking than she remembered—something she hadn’t thought was possible.

And it wasn’t only the bounty of his body that was remarkable. His dark, sable-brown hair was short all over and in a sexy disarray that made it impossible to tell if it was by design or nature. His features were the kind that a camera would love—stark and chiseled, with a square brow, a sharp jaw that cradled a chin with the slightest cleft in the center and a nose that was thin and perfectly aquiline.

His skin was smooth and sun-bronzed, his lean cheeks were shadowed with a day’s growth of beard that made him look appealingly scruffy, and when he finally finished hooking his tools through their allotted loops and cast his attention in the direction of the foyer, the blue-green of his eyes was so intense Clair thought she could feel his gaze settling on her.

But not so much as the hint of emotion was evident in his deep voice when he said, “Hello, Clair.”

Then he finally came the rest of the way down the steps on legs that bowed a little and carried him on a slow swagger that had just a hint of insolence to it.

And all of a sudden Clair found her throat so dry she had trouble saying, “Hi.”

His eyes remained on her but he didn’t say anything else, and Clair wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or if there was a sort of challenge in his expression. In his whole stance.

But if there was she didn’t know what he was challenging her to or how to meet it, and she was grateful when Cassie filled the gap.

“Have you eaten? Are you hungry? Thirsty? We had Chinese food and there are leftovers. And I made a pitcher of lemonade a little while ago.”

“Just the lemonade sounds good,” Clair managed.

Cassie checked her wristwatch. “I only have a few minutes before I need to leave for a committee meeting. I’m helping Ben with things around here because he’s down to the wire, but I also have stuff going on for fall semester at the college—although admittedly as a student advisor I won’t be swamped there until the kids show up so I’ll be in and out with you guys the whole time you’re here. Anyway, how about if I pour while Ben takes your suitcase out to the cottage?”

The only part of what Cassie said that registered with Clair was the part about Cassie only staying a few more minutes. And that fact made her suffer a fresh bout of panic. But she didn’t let it show. Instead she said a weak, “Okay.”

Cassie linked her arm through Clair’s then and headed for the kitchen, chattering about Northbridge going international with the opening of Ling’s Chinese Palace restaurant.

It wasn’t like Cassie to be so frenzied, and Clair wondered if her friend was responding to the tension in the air. But she was too on-edge herself to do more than let Cassie carry her along.

And all the while she was watching Ben as he walked ahead of them with her suitcase, knowing she shouldn’t be looking at his great rear end, and that she certainly shouldn’t be trying futilely to remember what it had looked like naked.

But it was only when they reached the large kitchen at the back of the house and Ben went out the sliding door that she managed to stop thinking about his derriere and focus on something else. On the kitchen itself.

The kitchen was as it had always been—a big, wide-open space with commercial-size appliances, and very little in the way of decor—with the exception of the backsplash tiles with the floral motif. There was a marble island counter with barstools on one side of it, and, for dining purposes, there was a long rectangular table with picnic-bench-style seating.

Cassie motioned Clair to one of the barstools, and then went to the refrigerator.

“It’s hard for you to be here again with your dad gone, isn’t it?” Cassie said when her brother was out of sight and earshot, letting Clair know that that was what her friend attributed the tension to.

“A little,” Clair admitted because that was also a factor in her stress.

“Will you be okay alone in the cottage? I really wish you could stay at my place, but with my roommate’s brother sleeping on our couch right now I know you wouldn’t be comfortable. My offer is still good, though, to come out here and stay with you, if you want.”

It was a tempting offer—not only because then Cassie would provide a constant diversion from Ben, but because Clair would have liked to spend time with her friend.

But she had a purpose other than helping Ben Walker get the school started and that purpose would only be served without a diversion.

So Clair said, “I’ll be okay. You don’t have to babysit me.”

“It wouldn’t be baby-sitting,” Cassie assured. “And I don’t mind if you need me.”

“Thanks, but, no. Really. I’m fine.”

Cassie accepted that, brought Clair the glass of lemonade and then pointed to the wall clock. “I hate to rush off the minute you get here but I have to.”

“It’s okay,” Clair lied.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and Ben will take good care of you in the meantime—won’t you?”

Clair hadn’t heard him come back and since she was facing away from the sliding door she had to look over her shoulder to make sure that’s who Cassie was talking to.

“Uh-huh,” he answered.

But apparently it was answer enough for Cassie because it prompted her to say, “All right then, I better go. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Clair and Ben responded with goodbyes of their own and then all of a sudden they were alone. In a silence Clair thought was heavy enough to be tangible.

But she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know whether to launch into an explanation of what had gone through her mind at the reunion and the next morning. Or to make excuses for herself. Or to try to convince him that her actions that night were unusual in the extreme—which they were.

Or maybe she should just act as if nothing had happened at all….

“Long drive from Denver,” he said then, interrupting the silence and her racing thoughts as he went to stand on the opposite side of the island. He stretched his arms wide and grabbed hold of the edges of the countertop.

“It is a long drive,” Clair agreed. “But I got a really early start this morning and it was a nice day for traveling. Sunny but not too hot.”

She couldn’t believe she was actually talking about the weather. Still, she just couldn’t bring herself to delve into anything deeper.

And then he did.

He said, “She doesn’t know—Cassie, that is—about what happened at the reunion. Between you and me. Nobody does.” He paused, made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, and added, “Including me in a lot of respects.”

“I’m not all that clear myself. Even about the parts I remember,” Clair admitted, staring at the beads of water on the outside of her lemonade glass because she couldn’t look him in the eye.

“We did have a lot to drink that night,” he allowed, making it easier for her. At least up to a point. “But the next morning…I was sobered up by then, you must have been, too.”

“In more ways than one,” she said half under her breath.

“What does that mean?” he asked anyway.

Whether she wanted to explain or not, apparently she was going to have to so Clair didn’t see any reason to fight it and merely gave in.

“That’s just not something I do—or have ever done— spending the night with someone like that,” she said haltingly because what she’d done was so foreign to her that she didn’t even know how to refer to her behavior. “I…” She had to clear her throat. “Before that I’d only…been…with Rob.”

“Rob?”

“Cabot. Rob Cabot? My husband—ex-husband?”

Ben shook his head and shrugged. “Am I supposed to know him?”

“We all went to high school together. He was there, at the reunion. With his new wife. He wasn’t supposed to be. He said he wasn’t going. It was the first time I’d seen him since our divorce, and the whole thing is still so strange to me and it just hit home and… Well, that’s why Cassie asked you to keep me company,” Clair said, looking for any kind of light to dawn in him.

But it never did. “All I know is that I was having a lousy time that night and never should have let my sister talk me into going. I was like a fish out of water that last semester of school and I was just as much a fish out of water that night. But when I told her I was leaving she said you were having a rotten time, too, and asked if I would sit with you until she could get back to you.”

Which Cassie hadn’t been able to do.

“So you didn’t know—” Clair cut herself off, not wanting to get into the subject of Rob and that night in the middle of the rest of this. “And it wasn’t just a pity—”

She couldn’t believe that train of thought had found voice. Her voice.

But it made him smile. A slow, lopsided, private-joke-kind of smile that somehow managed to instantly dissipate a lot of the tension in the room.

“You thought that whole night was a…out of pity?”

“I thought it was possible,” she confessed quietly.

Now he was trying to keep from grinning and in the struggle his eyebrows arched up over the bridge of his nose in a way that made him look innocent and devilish all at once. “I didn’t know anything was going on that I should pity you for,” he said.

“Good.”

“But I have to admit you have me curious now.”

“Too bad,” she said, her tone making it clear she had no intention of satisfying that curiosity.

For some reason that made him laugh. Which, in turn, helped even more of the tension evaporate.

“Okay,” he said, his stance relaxing, too, as he let his weight shift to one hip and stood up straighter to cross his arms over his chest. “So is that why you disappeared the next morning? Because you thought I’d only been there out of pity?”

“No, I was just… Well, I was crazy that next morning. I couldn’t believe I’d actually done what I’d done. I just…ran.”

He didn’t respond immediately. In fact he didn’t respond for so long that Clair hazarded a glance up at him.

He was watching her. Studying her. As if he were trying to decide whether or not to accept what she was telling him.

Finally he said, “I didn’t appreciate it.”

Nothing like being blunt.

But Clair knew she had it coming.

“I’m sorry. I know it was probably bad etiquette or something. I just didn’t know what to do or say or how to act or…anything. All I could think to do was to go home.”

That sounded lame. But it was the truth.

He either realized that or opted for letting her off the hook, though, because after another moment of studying her he said, “How about we forget the reunion ever happened and start over?”

She couldn’t completely forget it. But, for the time being, Clair thought it might be best to put it on a back burner.

“I’d like to start over,” she said, agreeing to at least that part of his suggestion.

“Then let’s do that.”

Those aqua eyes were warmer than they’d been since her arrival and that warmth made her feel much, much better.

“I can tell you’re worn-out from the drive, and since I want to get an early start tomorrow I told Cassie I’d fix the two of you breakfast at seven-thirty, if that’s all right with you?”

“Sure, seven-thirty is fine.”

“Okay, then, since you’ve had a long trip and we’re starting early tomorrow, how about if I walk you out to the cottage, let you unpack and get some rest? And we’ll consider tomorrow day one?”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

He held out his hand for her to shake and she took it without thinking that the feel of it might cause anything to erupt in her.

But it did. That perfectly innocent handshake that any two strangers might have shared made her extremely aware of the heat of his skin, the strength of his grip, the sensuality of his touch—things she didn’t want to be aware of at all.

And just the fact that she was, spurred her to say, “I don’t even think you should walk me to the cottage. I’ll just slip out as if I was never here, and we’ll be that much closer to putting the reunion behind us and starting over.”

“You’re sure?” he asked as she got down from the barstool in a hurry.

“Positive. You don’t know me. I’m not here,” she said on the way to the sliding door.

He followed her that far anyway, reaching around in front of her to open the door, keeping his hand high up on the edge of it and leaning against it as she went outside.

“Okay. See you around, stranger,” he said from behind her.

“Maybe. If you’re lucky,” she countered, stealing one more glance over her shoulder at him and finding him smiling that private-joke smile again.

It made her want to stay.

How did that happen? she asked herself as she gave him a little wave and turned away to head down the short brick path to the cottage.

But she didn’t have an answer. She only knew that somehow she’d gone from nearly hyperventilating at just the thought of seeing Ben Walker again, to actually being tempted to linger a while longer with him. And that the effect he had on her was like no other any man had ever had on her before.

Although maybe his having unusual effects on her shouldn’t have come as such a surprise under the circumstances.

Circumstances in which he’d managed to conquer her infertility.

Chapter Two

Ben hadn’t gone for a run in a while. He’d been too busy getting the school ready to open. But the following morning he was up earlier than usual anyway, and he decided it might do him some good.

So he pulled on a pair of cutoff jeans and his ratty old gray sleeves-torn-out T-shirt and, after some stretches to warm up, he set off just as the sun was making its first appearance.

He’d started running for exercise as a teenager. Exercise itself was something the ACA—the Arizona Center for Adolescents—had required. One of the many things required there. But running had given him the only sense of freedom he’d had in placement—even though he’d had to do it with a staff member along. So it had been something he’d adopted early on, something he’d stuck with ever since.

It just felt good. It helped him ease stress. It helped clear his head.

And right now he needed his head cleared. It was full of lists of things he had to get done so the school could open in the next two weeks. Full of guidelines, codes and requirements he had to meet. Full of questions he had for Clair Cabot.

Full of Clair Cabot…

Okay sure, she was really what had him up and running this morning. Thoughts of her. He might as well admit it. Why not, when thoughts of her weren’t such a strange occurrence since the reunion anyway? Since he’d woken the next morning to discover she’d left him behind like a dirty shirt. In fact she’d been on his mind so much that trying not to think about her almost seemed like his new hobby.

But now that he had a glimmer of an idea of what might be going on with her, he really wanted her cleared out of his mind.

Damn Cassie for setting him up like that, he thought as he increased his speed a little.

His sister hadn’t told him that Clair was divorced—let alone newly divorced.

And she should have. Cassie, of all people, knew how he felt about playing rebound guy for anyone. She knew he’d learned the hard way not to get within a hundred yards of any woman not long—long—past a breakup. Which was probably why she hadn’t told him that the reason that her friend was having a lousy time at the reunion had something to do with an ex-husband and his new wife. Cassie had to have known that if he’d had that fact at his disposal there would have been no chance in hell that he would have helped Cassie out by trying to cheer up Clair Cabot that night.

Let alone gone back to her room with her.

Or slept with her.

And opened himself up for something like what had happened when she’d hightailed it out of that room in the cold light of day. Hightailed it completely out of town without so much as a note or a phone number written in lipstick on the mirror or an it’s been nice knowing you….

Yes, it was good to finally find out that he hadn’t done something wrong that night. Not that he’d been able to figure out how that might have been the case when it had actually seemed like they’d both had a pretty fantastic night together.

But he had had a lot to drink beforehand and when Clair had disappeared on him like that it had left him wondering if he’d been mistaken, if things between them hadn’t been as amazing as he’d thought.

That was the point in situations like these though, he reminded himself. The point was that no matter how fantastic, how amazing things were, when one person was fresh out of another relationship, it just didn’t matter. A rebound was a rebound was a rebound.

And now even just assuming that that was the case with Clair, he wished he’d left that reunion before he’d ever set eyes on her.

Or at least before Cassie had teamed him up with her—he’d actually noticed Clair well in advance of his sister’s request to keep her friend occupied.

He’d noticed Clair in the school parking lot when she’d first arrived at the reunion. Cassie had forgotten the yearbook and sent him to her car to get it. As he was leaning inside the open passenger door trying to find it, Clair had pulled into the spot in front of Cassie’s, nose-to-nose, which had started a series of glances at her from Ben—one, two, three glances….

He hadn’t recognized her or had any idea that she was the friend his sister was excited to see. During those last few months he’d been home before graduation he’d probably only crossed paths with her a few times. And that had been ten years ago. Besides, he’d been so busy trying to toe the line then that he hadn’t had time to be involved with his sister’s active social life.

But that evening at the reunion had been different.

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe she hadn’t looked the same ten years ago. Or maybe she had and it just hadn’t struck him then. But in that initial glance at her in June he’d liked the look of her. Which was a little odd in itself when he ordinarily went for dark-haired women.

But the sun had hit her just right when she’d pulled into that parking spot, shining through her side window and glimmering in the golden-blond streaks of her hair. And all of a sudden glistening blond hair had looked uncommonly good to him.

So uncommonly good to him that he wasn’t sure he liked that she’d cut most of it off now.

He remembered her flawless skin—he guessed the shorter hair did show off more of that, anyway. Flawless skin with healthy pink tones dusting high cheekbones that somehow gave her an air of exotic innocence—if there was such a thing—then and now.

But it hadn’t only been her shiny blond hair, fine bone structure and porcelain skin that had spurred him to take a second glance at her that night in June.

He’d stolen the second glance when she’d opened her car door and long, shapely legs had made their appearance below it. Then she’d closed the driver’s door, and he’d been treated to the view of long, shapely legs easing into a cute little body with just enough up front and behind.

She’d opened the rear door to get something from the back seat and he’d averted his gaze again. He’d gone on with his search under Cassie’s seat for the yearbook.

But once he’d found the yearbook he’d backed out of the car just as Clair Cabot had closed her rear door, too. And something about that simultaneous movement had been enough of an excuse to draw yet a third glance at her.

She’d looked directly at him that time, meeting his eyes with hers. And holy cow, what eyes they were!

They were the color of the lilacs that grew on the bush alongside his mother’s house. Purple eyes. Clair Cabot had big, deep, dark purple eyes that still managed to be bright and sparkling in spite of all that depth of color. Eyes that had held him transfixed for a moment and almost unable to break that hold. Or certainly unwilling to…

And then, with the softest-looking, rose petal lips, she’d smiled at him. Tentatively. Uncertainly. Obviously wondering if he was someone she should remember. But with enough warmth to make him glad he’d gone to the reunion after all.