fabric of her bra. She knew the very second Dylan’s line of vision moved, the precise moment he became aware of her reaction.
“Remind me to feed you cheesecake more often,” he said, his voice slightly choked. “I’m going to make coffee. Can I offer you some, or a cup of something else, maybe?”
“Hot tea, please,” Jenna answered, fighting to get her wayward hormones back under control.
Dylan stood and turned away from the table, but not before she noticed he wasn’t exactly unaffected himself. So it seemed the crazy attraction between them showed no sign of abating. What on earth was she going to do about it?
Nothing. Abso-freaking-lutely nothing at all. They’d get through the rest of this evening. They might even discuss the baby a little more. But they were not going to do a single thing about this undeniable magnetism between them. After all, look where it had led them the last time.
* * *
Dylan ground fresh coffee beans and measured them into his coffeemaker, taking his time over the task. This was getting ridiculous. Why couldn’t she see just how suited they were to one another? Why wouldn’t anyone want to take that further? Her physical attraction to him was painstakingly obvious. Not that he needed any help in that department, but it was a natural trigger for his own.
There was a lot to be said for being a caveman, he thought as he switched on the electric kettle and heated the water for her tea. He’d never before felt so inclined to drag a woman by her hair into his lair and keep her there—making love to her until she no longer wanted to leave. He gave himself a mental shake. No, that image was completely unacceptable. He liked his women willing. He’d never used force or coercion before and he wouldn’t start now—no matter how tempting Ms. Jenna Montgomery made the idea seem. Somehow, he had to make her see that they’d be good together. Good enough for marriage and raising a kid.
He heard the scrape of her spoon on the plate as she finished her cheesecake, and he returned to the table with their hot drinks on a tray.
“Shall we take these back through to the living room?” he suggested.
“Sure.”
She got up to follow him and his eyes drifted again to her belly, to where his baby lay safely nestled. It roused something feral in him. Something he’d never experienced before today. Something he knew, deep in his heart, would never go away. He knew it was possible to love another person’s child—knew it from firsthand experience, from being that child, from being loved. For some reason, though, knowing it was his son or daughter she carried made Dylan feel as if he could give a certain superhero a decent run for his money in the leaping tall buildings department.
He also knew he’d do anything, lay down his life if necessary, to provide the best for his kid.
Jenna returned to her seat on the sofa and Dylan sat next to her, a sense of satisfaction spreading inside when she didn’t scoot away from him.
“When’s the baby due?” he asked, after taking a sip of his coffee.
“First week in December, all going well.”
“A baby by Christmas,” he mused aloud, struck by how much his life could change in a year.
“Life will be different, that’s for sure.”
“So what have you planned so far?”
Suddenly he needed to know everything she’d already done, and what she wanted to do for the rest of her pregnancy. This should involve him.
“Well, I’ve started getting a few things for the spare room in my house, you know, to turn it into a nursery. I found a bassinet at a yard sale last weekend. I’m going to reline it and get a collapsible stand. That way I’ll be able to use it in my office at the store as well as at home, until the baby gets a little bigger.”
Dylan suppressed the shudder that threatened to run through him at the thought that his child would have secondhand anything. Did that make him a snob? Probably. He and his brother had shared things as they grew up, and there’d been nothing wrong with that. It didn’t stop him from wanting to race out to the nearest store and buy all new equipment for his child, though.
Jenna, sensitive already, obviously picked up on his thoughts. “What’s wrong? You think our baby is too good for a secondhand bassinet?”
“Actually,” he started, thinking he needed to tread very carefully, “I was thinking more along the lines of what I could do to help out financially.”
If she was scouring yard sales, maybe she was a bit stretched when it came to money. She had the store, but also had her own home. Financing both took a lot of hard work and determination. And dollars and cents.
“I can manage, you know,” she said defensively.
“The point is you don’t have to manage,” he said. “I meant what I said when I told you I’m going to be a part of this baby’s life, and I don’t just mean the occasional visit. I’m happy to support you both.”
She looked as if she was about to bristle and reject his words, but then she slumped a little, as though a load had been lifted from her slender shoulders.
“Thank you.” She sighed softly. “It won’t be necessary, but I do appreciate the offer.”
“Hey,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and mentally comparing how small and dainty it felt in his much larger palm. It roused a fierce sense of protection inside him. One he knew would be smacked straight into next week if he showed her even an inkling of how she made him feel. “We got into this together, and that’s how it’s going to stay.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes awash with moisture. “Do you think we can do that? Stay friends through this?”
“Of course we can.”
“It’s not going to be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” he commented.
At the same time he promised himself that no matter what, she would not be doing this on her own. And one way or another, he’d get her to change her mind about marrying him. Now that he had her back in his life, he didn’t want to let her go again. There was a damn fine reason why he hadn’t been able to shake her image from his thoughts every single day. Now he had every incentive to find out exactly what that reason was.
Five
By the time Jenna rose to leave, weariness pulled at every muscle in her body. She was grateful tomorrow was Sunday. A blessed day of rest, with time to weigh up everything that had happened since Dylan Lassiter had walked back into her life. Maybe she’d get to work in the garden for a while, too—she always found that restful. Or even a lazy stroll around the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens might be nice.
“It’s late,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’d better get home. Thank you for tonight. I mean that.”
“You’re welcome,” Dylan replied, getting to his feet and putting his hand at the small of her back again.
Despite her exhaustion, her body responded instantly. It would be so easy to give in. To turn toward him, press her body
