didn’t mean to imply that you’re irresponsible. And I guess I just assumed your responsibilities were more physical in nature.”
“So you assumed I got a business degree just for the fun of it?” she snapped. “Next you’ll be telling me that I’m wasting my education staying on the ranch.” As if she hadn’t heard that enough from Becca over the years.
“I’m just worried about the health of my child.”
“We obviously need to get a few things straight here. One, I am not moving to El Paso. There is no reason why I can’t have a perfectly healthy pregnancy in Peckins. And two, I am definitely not quitting work. My parents depend on me, not to mention that I love what I do. I understand that you’re worried about the baby’s health, but you’re just going to have to trust me. And lastly, if you insist on calling to check up on me, could you have the decency to not treat me like a … a baby factory. Maybe we could even have a conversation. You do know what that is, right?”
“Yes,” he said curtly. He obviously didn’t like what he was hearing, but when she signed the contract to be his surrogate, nowhere did it say she had to comply to his every demand.
Move in with him? Was he nuts?
“Even though Becca is gone, we’re still family. Would it really be so terrible if we were friends?”
“I never said I didn’t want to be your friend.”
“You didn’t have to. I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, actions speak louder than words. And maybe you haven’t considered this, but if you get to know me a little better, it will be easier for you to trust me.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said grudgingly.
At least it was start. But she had the sinking feeling that it was going to a really long nine months.
Eight
Since their phone conversation three days ago, Adam had cut off all contact with Katy, and it had been surprisingly difficult. Since the procedure he’d been thinking about her almost twenty-four/seven. The more he read up on pregnancy, the deeper home it hit just how many things could go wrong with not just the baby, but Katy, as well.
He had accepted responsibility for Becca’s death, and learned to live with the guilt, but the idea that her sister’s life was now in his hands had him on constant edge. It was his responsibility to make sure she was healthy.
It was something he should have considered before he put this baby plan into motion. But it was too late now. Katie was due to arrive any minute so they could go for her blood test. In a few hours they would know if the procedure worked.
He was both excited and dreading it. Hopeful but conflicted. From his home office, where he’d been working while waiting for her to arrive, he heard the doorbell. Even though he was sure it was Katy, he let Celia answer it.
After a minute, Celia knocked on his door. “Katy is here, and I think something is wrong. She ran straight upstairs to the spare bedroom. And it looked like she’d been crying.”
He bolted up from his chair, his heart in the pit of his stomach.
With Celia close behind Adam rushed up the stairs to the spare room. The door was open, so he stepped inside. The door to the bathroom was closed. He knocked softly and asked, “Katy, are you all right?”
“Give me a minute,” she called.
He walked back over to the bedroom door to wait with Celia. After several minutes the bathroom door opened and Katy emerged. She was in her girls’ clothes, and her red-rimmed eyes said she probably had been crying.
Ridiculous as it was, his first instinct was to take her in his arms and try to comfort her, which was exactly why he didn’t.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I had some light cramping this morning before I left, but I thought it might just be a fluke.” She sniffled and swiped at the tear that had spilled over onto her cheek. “But it wasn’t.”
The disappointment was all-encompassing. “You’re not pregnant?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I was so sure it worked. I really expected to be pregnant.”
Celia crossed the room and gathered Katy in her arms, and Adam couldn’t help thinking that it should be him comforting her. But he was glad Celia had stepped in for him.
“You’ll have more chances,” Celia assured her, rubbing her back soothingly. “I know it’s disappointing, but it will happen.” She looked over at Adam and gestured to the box of tissue on the nightstand.
He plucked one out and brought it to her. Celia took it and pressed it into Katy’s hand. “Why don’t I make you a soothing cup of chamomile tea?”
Katy sniffled and nodded.
Celia turned and gave Adam a look, then jerked her head in Katy’s direction, as if to say “Console her, you idiot.” But he couldn’t seem to make himself do it.
Katy stood there dabbing her eyes. “I was so sure I was pregnant.”
“The doctor said it could take a few times.”
“I know, but I had such a good feeling.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, Adam.”
“Sorry for what?”
“I feel responsible.”
She looked so damned … forlorn. And Katy never struck him as the kind of woman to cry on a whim. He recalled that even at Becca’s funeral she’d held it together. And how could he just stand there, like a selfish bastard, when he was the one who put her in this situation? Had he really grown so cold and unfeeling?
Or was it that he felt too much?
“I’m sorry,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I’m acting stupid.”
Another tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek, and he cringed. The gene all men possessed that made them wither at the sight of a crying female kicked into overdrive. Besides, if he didn’t do something, she would probably just interpret it as him being mad at her, or something equally ridiculous.
Feeling he had no choice, he stepped closer and tugged her into his arms. She came willingly, leaning into the embrace, hands fisted against his chest, head tucked under his chin.
There it was again, just like when she’d kissed his cheek, that feeling of awareness. As if every touch, every sensation was multiplied tenfold. The softness of her body where it pressed against his. The flowery scent of her hair. The flutter of her breath through his shirt and the warmth that seemed to seep through her clothing to his skin.
His body began to react the way any man’s would. Well, any man who hadn’t been this physically close to a woman in three years. Or intimate in closer to four. Until recently he couldn’t say he’d missed it. He’d barely given any thought to sex. It was as if his body had been in deep hibernation, unable to feel physical pleasure.
But
