Newborn Needs a Dad (8 page)

“Spoken like a man,” she snapped, looking down at herself. Things went well on top, started to deteriorate around her middle, were pulled pretty darned tight over her rear end, and the boots…a concession to comfort she’d found two days ago, on sale. Faux fur that looked like she was wearing a raccoon wrapped around each ankle.

“OK, so maybe the boots aren’t good,” he admitted, fighting back a smile. “But they’ll be under the table, so no one will notice.”

“Which is where you’ll find me,” Gabby muttered, as Neil took her by the arm and led her all the way over to the window. Naturally, he stopped at several tables along the way to say hello, to ask how someone was feeling, to introduce her to a highly styled couple he thought she should know. So, what
could have, or should have, been a quick trip across the carpeted floor turned into twenty long minutes in which she knew people were turning their heads, asking questions. Pointing.

“I didn’t know,” Gabby explained to Angela, who hurried over to the table the instant they were seated. “And I apologize.”

“For what? I’m just glad you’re here. When I saw that Neil had made the reservation I decided to stay over and make sure your meal is perfect. Even though I won’t be cooking it. But I did make a fabulous chocolate trifle for dessert, since I knew you were craving chocolate.”

Gabby pulled her boot out from under the table. “This is what I’m apologizing for. I might have to have a double serving of the trifle to get me over the trauma.”

“She thinks she’s out of place.” Neil set aside the wine menu and went straight to the menu of imported waters. “I told her she’s fine, but she won’t believe me.”

Angela laughed. “He’s right. You’re fine. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“How are you feeling?” Gabby asked.

“You’re off duty, Doctor,” Neil reminded her, then ordered a sparkling water from Belgium. “Time to relax, which you’re not doing very well at right now.”

“I’m fine, and I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Angela explained. “And I’ve got your meal all planned, so please sit back, relax, enjoy yourself.” She turned away, had a second thought, then turned back. “Dance. We have an awesome dance floor here. And I know an obstetrician who would tell you that the exercise would do you good.”

Gabby gave her a scowl. “I don’t dance.” Angela was trying to turn this into a romantic date, and that wasn’t going to work, no matter how romantic the atmosphere, the food or the music. But the smile she saw on Neil’s face made her wonder if he thought differently. “I don’t,” she protested. “Never have,
except for a couple of school dances when I was a girl, and I was terrible.”

Angela scurried off to the kitchen, leaving Gabby and Neil to the discussion. “So you really don’t know if you can dance, then, do you?” he asked.

“And I’m not about to find out.”

“What if I asked you? Called in the gratuity you offered for the massage. Remember that?”

“I remember reserving the right to put conditions on that gratuity, so I’d have to say no.”

“And you wouldn’t find that a little rude, turning down your dinner escort that way, especially when a gratuity
you promised
still hangs in the balance?”

“If my dinner escort valued his toes, he wouldn’t ask.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “So don’t ask.”

“What if I said that dancing is good for the baby?” His eyes positively twinkled with mischief.

“Then I’d say it’s a good thing you’re not an obstetrician, because dancing has nothing to do with fetal development.”

“You’re referring to Bryce as a fetus, now? And just when I’ve gotten use to personalizing him?”

She didn’t answer as the waiter placed a champagne bucket next to the table. In it was a chilled bottle of sparkling water, which he served the way he would have served a fine wine. Gabby kept her eyes fixed on him while, across the table, Neil kept his eyes fixed on her—making her totally uncomfortable. Given different circumstances, this might have turned into the night he expected. But circumstances weren’t different, and nothing was going to change. Or, actually, it would once the evening was over.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked.

“I’ve never been this up close and personal with a pregnant
lady,” he admitted, “and I’m finding it fascinating. I’ll bet you don’t even know how many times in any given hour you raise your hand to your belly, and smile. And it’s a warm smile, one that comes from a place I’m not sure any man could ever truly understand, which is too bad, because I’ve always thought men were left out of the best part. It’s amazing, though, isn’t it? A brand-new life about to happen. We know how it happens, know
that
it happens, but it’s still amazing and all the men can do is stand back and watch.”

“Want to do more than watch?” she asked. “He’s kicking, if you’d like to feel.”

A smile spread across Neil’s face as he laid aside his napkin, stood up and went to her side of the table. Without a word, Gabby took his hand and guided it to her right side where, indeed, Bryce was making himself known. Then, instinctively, she pulled up her sweater to let Neil see the little blips her baby made on her belly when he kicked. “He’s one rambunctious boy,” she said, surprised how intimate this felt. Normally, she hated people coming up and touching her belly like it was their right. So many people did that. Poke, prod, pat…it made her cringe thinking about all the uninvited hands she’d had on her lately. But Neil’s hands, as he laid them on her bare flesh now, and felt the kick of her child in a way no one but she had before, were so gentle, so right. What surprised her was how the baby settled down almost immediately under Neil’s touch, like he knew that this man was part of his life.

“You have a good way with him. I guess that’s why you became a pediatrician,” she said, pulling her sweater back into place as the waiter approached the table. All too soon the moment was over, and Neil was back sitting across from her, staring again, as the waiter fussed over the table, rearranging the flowers, setting aside the candle, refolding the napkins.

Gabby liked it that Neil watched her that way. In an odd
sort of way, it made her feel almost…sexy. And pregnant women were sexy. That’s what she told her patients every day. But sexy had no place in
their
relationship. They weren’t lovers, sharing a wonderful experience together. After this evening, after she told him the little boy he’d just felt kicking was his flesh and blood, they might not even be friends. So rather than saying anything, she took a drink of her sparkling water as melancholy slipped down over her. They had no future, no past. All they had was just this moment, which suddenly felt lonely.

Dinner went nicely in spite of the glum mood that had come on her earlier. The food was wonderful, the conversation light. Neil wisely avoided talking anything of substance, for which she was grateful, and he even managed to stay off hospital matters. Throughout the whole thing, Gabby couldn’t help but wonder what it might have been like had this been a real date between two people in different circumstances. Maybe in love, or on the verge of it. But this was her lot now, and while the evening had brought on a good case of the blues earlier, she wasn’t really unhappy. They were temporary, while the excitement of what was happening to her was permanent. It’s all good, she decided on her way back from the ladies’ room. “And things will work out the way they’re meant to be,” she whispered to Bryce.

She cut around the edge of the dance floor, where a dozen couples were dancing to something seductive that could have been sung by Frank Sinatra. The low tones from the tiny orchestra were so smooth and sensual, she couldn’t help but slow her pace, to watch for a moment, and to listen. Which was her mistake, because Neil stepped up from behind and led her straight to the dance floor.

“Gratuity time,” he whispered, as he took hold of her hand and pulled her into him as far as she could go, all things considered.

“And if I simply walked away?” She wanted to, but she was suddenly discovering that so much of her didn’t want to. For a little while, it would be nice to live in the illusion that they were a romantic couple caught up in the pure sensuality of the dance. Even with her boots…and her belly.

“I’m not keeping you here, Gabrielle. I would never force you to do something you don’t want to do. So, it’s your choice.”

Her choice…her body was already swaying to the rhythm. Swaying to Neil’s rhythm. It was like she couldn’t stop it. The music was drawing her in, pulling her even closer to Neil…he was holding her, they were dancing. Hands appropriate, of course. Proper dance etiquette. And she wished, dear heaven, she had on better shoes, something to help her glide more gracefully. But that didn’t matter, because they took up so little of the parquet floor, dancing mostly in one small spot. Tighter together. Their proper dance etiquette relaxing into something more personal, her arms slipped around his neck as his slipped around her back. They looked like every other couple out there. So close… Her head on his shoulder now, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. The steady in and out of it, the gentle brush of his lips…no lips. No, that wasn’t his lips. Couldn’t be.

Suddenly, Gabby pulled back, broke away, stared into his eyes. “I need to sit down.” she said, trying not to sound as breathless as she was. Which had nothing to do with the dance.

“Are you OK?” he asked, leading her off the dance floor.

“Just a little winded. I’ll be fine when I sit down.”

She wasn’t, though. She wasn’t fine at all. In fact, she was so disquieted she wasn’t able to eat a bite of the chocolate trifle Angela had sent along for dessert. “Did you kiss me?” she finally blurted out.

He looked up from his spoonful of trifle. Smiled. “I might have. Why?”

“Why would you ask me why? No, skip that, and tell me why you
might
have kissed me?”

“The moment was right. So was the mood.”

“Whose mood?” she sputtered.

“Mine. Yours.”

“How do you figure my mood was right?”

“Your head was on my shoulder, your arms around my neck. Since I wasn’t the one who placed them there, then I figured the mood had to be yours, too.”

He took another bite of dessert, and over the flicker of the candles between them she saw the pure devilry in his eyes. “I was…” Voice quivering, she cleared her throat. “I told you I didn’t dance. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Then I claim the same thing. I didn’t know what I was doing.
If
I kissed you, that is.” A purely sexual smile crossed his face. “And that hasn’t been established yet, has it?”

“I think it has.”

“Did you see the kiss happen?”

“Of course I didn’t. But I felt it.” Had felt goose bumps rising on her flesh, too. And shivers running up and down her spine. Shivers that were still there.

“Are you sure that’s what you felt?”

Oh, she was sure. But she wasn’t going to tell him.

Neil scooped up a spoonful of trifle and held it across the table to her. Wiggled it ever so seductively close to her lips. And she wanted it, not because she craved the chocolate but because she craved the seduction. Or, rather, the illusion of seduction, as no man in his right mind would seduce a seven-and-a-half-months-pregnant woman. But it was so nice feeling wanted—in
that
way. And because she wanted it so desperately, she pushed herself back from the table, away from temptation. “What I felt was a man coercing me into doing something I didn’t want to do, and I was just being
polite, so he wouldn’t be embarrassed by my rejection of him on the dance floor.”

Neil laughed outright at that. His eyes twinkled, they crinkled at the corners, and he gave her the full effect of a laugh that was so contagious she couldn’t help but laugh, too, at the absurdity of what she’d said. In fact, she laughed herself to tears, and took the handkerchief he offered, to dab her eyes. “OK, so maybe that wasn’t really what I meant,” she finally managed.

“What you meant was that you enjoyed it. Admit it, Gabrielle. You had a few nice moments out there on the dance floor when you finally allowed yourself to.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt like…a woman. I’m a doctor, a pregnant person, I’m a clunk in furry boots, I’m a mother-in-waiting. But a woman…”

“Believe me. Even with the furry boots, there’s no mistaking the woman.” And maybe he’d gone a little too far. But he’d been caught up in the moment. Smelled her perfume, held her in his arms, felt her head on his shoulder… Normal reaction, he was telling himself. He didn’t date, didn’t have a social life, and Gabrielle was…attractive. More like beautiful. And alone. He was only trying to befriend her, that’s all. So the kiss had been a mistake, he’d admit that to himself, and deny its existence to her. Even though she knew he’d kissed her.

Truth was, he wasn’t even embarrassed, when he probably should have been. Another truth was that, given the opportunity, he might kiss her again. There wouldn’t be another opportunity, though, so he was safe.

But another time, another situation? He could almost picture himself involved with her. Maybe even more than involved. She was everything he’d never expected in a woman. Funny, direct, honest, smart. Little Bryce Evans was going to have himself one hell of a mother, and Neil was a little envious
he didn’t fit into the equation somewhere, because it was a nice equation. One he’d never expected he’d want.

“Well, right now, these furry boots are going to hike back to the kitchen and see Angela for a few minutes.” She stood, then breezed by his side of the table, stopping opposite him. “Oh, and, Neil,” she said, a tiny smile turning up the corners of her lips, “no kissing any other pregnant women while I’m gone. OK?”

Damn, she did make him laugh. And feel good. And, for the first time in years, feel optimistic. He watched her until she disappeared down the corridor leading to the kitchen, then turned on his cell phone and called the hospital. He’d given instructions that he wanted nothing short of a natural disaster to call him away, and at present there was no natural disaster, except, perhaps, the natural disaster he was making of the evening. Trying not to think about what he’d done, Neil slumped back in his chair, stretched legs out under the table and closed his eyes. Trouble was, in his mind’s eye all he could see were his lips on her neck.