I’m back at square one again and facing questions a lot more important than what’s making the gossip vine thrive.”
“Hmm.” Irene nibbled on a fingernail. “How far along do you think you are?”
“Nine weeks.” Plus one day and nineteen hours, to be precise!
“Have you thought about what you want to do?”
“Do?”
“You don’t have to go through with the pregnancy, Jenna. There are other options.”
“I hope you’re not hinting at an abortion,” she said, shocked. “I was reconciled to never having children with Mark. I’ve accepted his leaving me standing at the altar. But this… this is my baby and I’m damned if I’ll let anyone rob me of him—or her!”
“What about the father’s rights?”
“The father has no rights,” she spat, jumping up from her chair and pacing agitatedly across the room and back. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since the night we…had sex.”
Because he already has a wife.
“Don’t get your knickers in an uproar,” Irene said calmly. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you all the way, you know that. You can work as much or as little as you like before the birth. And after, when you feel up to it, you can come back to the center and bring the munchkin with you. If single parenthood’s the route you choose to go, you’ve got the ideal setup. No need to worry about baby-sitters or leaving him with strangers.”
She made it all sound so possible. And maybe it would have remained that way if, that following Sunday night, Edmund Delaney hadn’t shown up on Jenna’s doorstep.
“I’ve had a devil of a time tracking you down,” he said, when she opened the door. “You’re not listed in the phone book, you never did tell me your last name, and if it hadn’t been that the desk clerk at The Inn was susceptible to a bribe, I never would have found you. You look like hell, by the way.”
Appalled, she stared at him, willing him to be a figment of her nauseated imagination. In the beginning, she’d fantasized more than was good for her about what might have happened if he hadn’t been married and they’d spent a few more days together. But common sense had finally prevailed and she’d long since accepted that, in his own way, Edmund was no better than Mark and she was well rid of both of them.
He was looking at her quizzically, his slate-blue eyes with their absurdly long lashes sparkling with laughter. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, sweet pea?”
“No,” she said. “Go away. And I’m not your sweet pea.”
But before she could slam it in his face, he had his foot in the door, and then the rest of him. “Hey,” he said, “I know you’re probably ticked with me, but I can explain.”
Ignoring the lurching of her stomach, she straightened to her full height and glared at him, sincerely believing she was in charge of herself and her emotions. “Nothing you have to say excuses your behavior. You are…you are…!”
“Pond scum?” A grin tugged at his mouth and he had the audacity to reach out and cup her chin.
His hand was warm and strong and steady; the kind that made a woman feel safe and protected and all those things she badly needed to see her through the coming months and years. And knowing she couldn’t have them—at least not from him—had her suddenly choking back the tears which, along with all the other less than welcome symptoms of pregnancy, plagued her without warning.
“I would have come before,” he said gravely, seeing her distress. “But I’ve been away and only just got back. How are you, Jenna, my dear?”
Pregnant, that’s how! And just to prove it, the soup she’d had for dinner rose up in her throat with alarming urgency. Blindly, she spun away from him and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
CHAPTER FOUR
S HE had no idea he’d followed her, that he saw her hunched over the toilet bowl and heard her retching, until she felt him scooping the hair away from her face and
“Hmm.” Irene nibbled on a fingernail. “How far along do you think you are?”
“Nine weeks.” Plus one day and nineteen hours, to be precise!
“Have you thought about what you want to do?”
“Do?”
“You don’t have to go through with the pregnancy, Jenna. There are other options.”
“I hope you’re not hinting at an abortion,” she said, shocked. “I was reconciled to never having children with Mark. I’ve accepted his leaving me standing at the altar. But this… this is my baby and I’m damned if I’ll let anyone rob me of him—or her!”
“What about the father’s rights?”
“The father has no rights,” she spat, jumping up from her chair and pacing agitatedly across the room and back. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since the night we…had sex.”
Because he already has a wife.
“Don’t get your knickers in an uproar,” Irene said calmly. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you all the way, you know that. You can work as much or as little as you like before the birth. And after, when you feel up to it, you can come back to the center and bring the munchkin with you. If single parenthood’s the route you choose to go, you’ve got the ideal setup. No need to worry about baby-sitters or leaving him with strangers.”
She made it all sound so possible. And maybe it would have remained that way if, that following Sunday night, Edmund Delaney hadn’t shown up on Jenna’s doorstep.
“I’ve had a devil of a time tracking you down,” he said, when she opened the door. “You’re not listed in the phone book, you never did tell me your last name, and if it hadn’t been that the desk clerk at The Inn was susceptible to a bribe, I never would have found you. You look like hell, by the way.”
Appalled, she stared at him, willing him to be a figment of her nauseated imagination. In the beginning, she’d fantasized more than was good for her about what might have happened if he hadn’t been married and they’d spent a few more days together. But common sense had finally prevailed and she’d long since accepted that, in his own way, Edmund was no better than Mark and she was well rid of both of them.
He was looking at her quizzically, his slate-blue eyes with their absurdly long lashes sparkling with laughter. “Aren’t you going to invite me in, sweet pea?”
“No,” she said. “Go away. And I’m not your sweet pea.”
But before she could slam it in his face, he had his foot in the door, and then the rest of him. “Hey,” he said, “I know you’re probably ticked with me, but I can explain.”
Ignoring the lurching of her stomach, she straightened to her full height and glared at him, sincerely believing she was in charge of herself and her emotions. “Nothing you have to say excuses your behavior. You are…you are…!”
“Pond scum?” A grin tugged at his mouth and he had the audacity to reach out and cup her chin.
His hand was warm and strong and steady; the kind that made a woman feel safe and protected and all those things she badly needed to see her through the coming months and years. And knowing she couldn’t have them—at least not from him—had her suddenly choking back the tears which, along with all the other less than welcome symptoms of pregnancy, plagued her without warning.
“I would have come before,” he said gravely, seeing her distress. “But I’ve been away and only just got back. How are you, Jenna, my dear?”
Pregnant, that’s how! And just to prove it, the soup she’d had for dinner rose up in her throat with alarming urgency. Blindly, she spun away from him and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
CHAPTER FOUR
S HE had no idea he’d followed her, that he saw her hunched over the toilet bowl and heard her retching, until she felt him scooping the hair away from her face and
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