She's Having a Baby by Marie Ferrarella Page A

a little taken aback by her greeting. “Yeah, I did,” he acknowledged, his expression all but saying that he wondered why she sounded so excited by his appearance on her doorstep. “There’s still no running water,” he told her in a tone that seemed the closest thing to an apology he’d ever get.
    Blinking, she realized that Quade was carrying a large towel besides the small toiletry kit that undoubtedly housed soap and shaving paraphernalia. There was the makings of a seven o’clock shadow on his face, and he was a man in search of a bathroom to make his own.
    Quade nodded toward the rear of the apartment. “I was wondering…”
    He looked really uncomfortable, she realized. MacKenzie had a feeling that it had taken a great deal for him to approach her. It took no great student of human nature to guess that he wasn’t the kind wholiked asking for favors. Probably because he didn’t like being in anyone’s debt, no matter how trivial it was.
    MacKenzie stepped back, opening the door wider. “Sure. Come on in.”
    He crossed the threshold, then looked back at her. She was trying to hide the disappointment skewering through her. “You weren’t expecting me, were you?”
    She pressed her lips together, debating lying, then shook her head. “No.”
    â€œThen that greeting—”
    She cut him off before he could ask any questions. She wanted the matter closed. “Was for someone else.” To her surprise, she saw what looked like a smattering of a smile curving his mouth. She was tempted to touch it, just to see if she wasn’t hallucinating and that he was actually standing there. She kept her hands at her sides. “What?”
    His smile was soft, sexy. “Looks like I’m not the only one who can be closemouthed if the situation calls for it.”
    Quade watched her pull together the ends of her robe. Not that the movement did anything to hide the body beneath. The material was close to translucent, covering a sexy, abbreviated nightgown made of material that almost matched the outer cover. Both stopped tantalizingly across her upper thighs.
    For a short woman, she gave the illusion of having long legs. Long, shapely legs that invited the eye to travel farther and the mind to fantasize.
    Neither of which he had time for, Quade reminded himself. There was a new frontier to cross and the threads, such as they were, of a life to finally begin to pick up. “I’m not stopping you from taking your shower, am I?”
    She glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “I’m not due to get up for about another fifteen minutes,” she assured him.
    He received the message loud and clear. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
    She was finally coming around. It was hard standing so close to him and his naked chest and not being acutely aware of all her senses, even the ones that had been dormant. “You didn’t. I had to get up to answer the door anyway.”
    Quade paused, frowning, playing the line over in his mind. “That makes no sense.”
    She shrugged and the robe slipped off her shoulder, along with the strap of the nightgown. She tugged both up again.
    â€œSounded better in my head,” she confessed. “You take your shower. I’ll make coffee for you.”
    As he began to leave again, her phrasing caught his attention. “You don’t drink coffee?”
    â€œTea,” she told him.
    He didn’t want her putting herself out for him. Didn’t want that kind of give-and-take relationship between them. It was bad enough that he was forced to use her bathroom.
    â€œThen don’t bother yourself with the coffee. I’m in a hurry anyway. I like giving myself a lot of time when I’m heading somewhere new.”
    â€œStarting a new job?” she guessed.
    He had no time to withstand the onslaught of questions he knew was coming, even if he had no one to blame