nobody should have to strike out on all three counts.
Pregnant. Or not.
She presses her hand to her forehead and tries to picture herself as a parent. Parker already has three kids, so she doesn’t have to worry about his ability to cope with children. Matt, Amanda and Sam are practically grown, but their father adores them. He’ll adore this new baby, too—if her nausea isn’t the result of a virus or pasta gone bad.
On the other hand—she swallows as the gall of envy burns the back of her throat—Parker has been surprisingly protective of his children. Though she’s boldly hinted that she’d like to get to know them, she’s never met his sons and daughter. She’s shopped for their birthday presents, dispensed advice about Christmas gifts and helped him understand the emotional complexities of teenage girlhood. But when she mentions meeting his kids, he insists they are not ready to accept another woman in his life. They’re still torn up about losing their mother….
After five years, shouldn’t those children be ready to move on?
She straightens to relieve the ache in her shoulders, then shakes her head. Technically, Parker’s opinion doesn’t matter. She could have a baby and raise it alone. But a child deserves a father’s love, and Parker would want to know if he has created a new life.
He’d be surprised, of course, maybe even stunned, but she’d assure him she didn’t intend to get pregnant. Their relationship has been stable for over a year and until now she’s felt no need to change things. She hasn’t pressed for marriage and isn’t even sure she believes in it. Matrimony might be fine for women who need to belong to a man, but Michelle has always valued her independence too much to surrender it.
Yet perhaps it’s time to reconsider. Greg Owens’s name keeps slipping through her thoughts, reminding her that investigation is only days away. If she can’t convince Owens that her agency fulfills its promises, he may start digging into her past.
How nice it would be to surrender her responsibilities and walk away. To wake up in the morning and have no appointments. How liberating, to trade the support of a dozen employees for the care of one child. Parker wouldn’t need her income. And he’s so protective of his kids—if she had a baby, he’d probably want her to stay home and spoil the kid rotten.
She’s never visualized herself as a parent, but she could learn to appreciate motherhood. Hard not to think about having a child when her employees are reproducing like rabbits and every other month some celebrity is showing off an infant Apple, Coco or Kumquat….
Since her thirtieth birthday she’s become increasingly aware that every menstrual cycle represents an irreversible loss of fertility. She’s thirty-three, old enough to know herself and settled enough to sacrifice for a child.
Michelle stands on wobbly legs and opens the test kit. Inside the box, a sheaf of printed instructions and a white plastic stick nestle in a molded shell. She plucks the stick from its resting place and holds it up to the light. This little gadget will tell her if she’s pregnant or not. If today will be just another day or the start of a new life. If her next strong emotion will be alarm or relief.
No…not relief. Maybe happiness.
Staring at the stick, for the first time Michelle realizes how much she’d like to be pregnant. If not now, then next month or next year.
She wants a baby…a cooing bundle of hope for which she could correct life’s mistakes and build the home she’s always wanted. Most people do live in happy homes; most girls do go to the prom; most women do want to be mothers.
She’s tired of pretending otherwise.
Pregnant or not, she’s going to tell Parker she wants a family. If he won’t let her be part of his, she will create a family of her own.
CHAPTER 3
With her hair still wet from the shower, Michelle wraps her robe more closely about her, then sits on the edge of her bed and picks up the phone. Though she is determined to reach Parker, she hesitates before dialing his number.
Odd. Though she has no trouble telling people at her office what to do, she wouldn’t dare try to order Parker’s day. Strength and independence are two of his most attractive qualities, and he is one of the few men she has never been able to intimidate.
Still…she needs to talk to him.
She dials his office number, punches in the extension for the executive suite and holds her breath until he picks up. As always, her heart does a double-beat when his voice rumbles over the line.
“It’s me, Parker.” She lowers her head and plucks a dark thread from her white cotton robe. “Am I interrupting anything important?”
His voice, which had been toneless when he answered, warms with huskiness. “You are a delightful surprise. I almost didn’t pick up—I’ve heard from too many clients who would like to fry my hide for their mistakes.”
She chuckles. “That’d be a terrible waste of a perfectly good hide.”
“Listen to you—you always know how to make me feel better.” He laughs. “What are you doing up so early? I thought you’d sleep in.”
“You’re not the only one with responsibilities. I have things to do, too.”
“Like what?”
“Well…I have to close the storm shutters, fill the bathtub with water and back up all my computer files. You know, the usual prehurricane preparations.”
“Didn’t you buy bottled water?”
“Sure.”
“Then why are you filling the tub?”
She smiles at the teasing note in his voice. “Because Lauren told me to, okay? She’s a native. She knows about these things.”
Silence rolls over the line, then he says, “I loved last night.”
“I loved the rose you left for me.”
“My pleasure.”
Michelle wraps the telephone cord around her wrist. “Parker…”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing now?”
He laughs again. “I’m cleaning up. Thought I’d take a shower and shave this stubble before I frighten someone.”
“I like your stubble. I’ve always thought a salt-and-pepper beard is attractive.”
In the background she can hear the sound of running water, so he must be talking on the extension in his private bathroom. Closing her eyes, she can almost see him, phone in one hand, razor in the other.
“Have you heard the latest on the weather?” he asks.
“Yeah. Felix’s still on a northwestern track.”
“Coming straight for us?”
“Looks like it.”
“Then
