Only after Dane had left to get her fresh clothes did Gabby dare breathe. Good Lord, was his chest gorgeous. Well defined with just enough hair to make him manly without being a Sasquatch. The thought made her smile, as did the memory of his broad shoulders.
He returned wearing dry khaki cargo shorts and nothing else. With his dark hair all spiky and wet, a hint of stubble shadowing his squarish jaws, he was stunning. Gone was the formal judge. In his place was a rugged man whom she’d be all too happy to have jump her bones. But then, like he’d really want to. After all, with her being grossly pregnant, she wasn’t exactly looking her best.
Presenting her with a pile of dry clothes, he said, “I wasn’t sure if you were wet all the way through, or just on top.”
Cheeks flaming, Gabby’s already naughty mind didn’t need much encouragement to take Dane’s innocent question the entirely wrong way. “All the way through, thank you.”
“Sure.” Politely looking away, he asked, “Need help?”
“Probably, but I don’t want to put you in an awkward spot.”
“What do you need me to do?”
Again, Gabby found herself giggling. If she told uptight Dane what she really needed him to do, he’d pass out! “First, help me up from here.”
He did, but instead of grasping her hands as she’d expected, he awkwardly took hold between her elbows and forearms, placing her face square in the center of that chest she’d admired earlier.
Once she was standing, Gabby wrapped her arms around Dane’s waist for support. “I seem to have lost all sense of balance.”
“Normal, I suppose, considering you have a watermelon where your waist used to be.”
“You are so good for my ego,” she said, shimmying free of her wet pj bottoms.
She was trying to be efficient. Clinical. She was trying not to notice the way her bare skin brushed his. And in the places where they touched there was fire. Her insides felt quivery and Baby Günter kicked as if he were in a championship soccer match.
All too soon, she had on her fresh yellow flannel pj’s.
“There you go,” Dane said, urging her toward her room. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed and I’ll fix you a plate.”
“Thank you for your help.” In the cramped, dark hall, she turned to him, flattening her hands against his chest. The wood floor chilled her bare feet. Dane’s warmth counteracted all discomfort. On her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “You’ve been so kind—through everything.”
She kissed his other cheek, and his chin.
Groaning, he warned, “Gabrielle…”
Turning her attention to his throat, and then lower, she said, “Please hold me. Please, don’t make me beg.”
“I can’t—”
“It’s just us, Dane.” Skimming her fingertips along the dark curls on his chest, she said, “Ben’s miles away. Don’t let his ghost ruin what we share.”
“What exactly is that?” he asked, resting his forehead against hers.
“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not anything I can define, but surely you feel it?”
“I’m not sure what I’m feeling anymore. Watching you started out to be the right thing to do, but now I don’t just want to be with you, I have to be with you. And when the baby comes—”
“You’ll still be here with me, right?”
He tried backing away from her, but she held on for dear life. “Let me go. You know it’s for the best.”
Arms around his waist, she said, “No, Dane, what I know is that I’ve never been happier than these past weeks with you. If it helps, you’re hardly stealing me from Ben. I’m choosing you over him. Now I see he was a joke. You, Dane, are the real deal.”
She kissed his chest. Over and over, pressing her lips to his skin, but then he braced his hands on each side of her face, forcing her gaze to lock with his. As if agonized over a war of will raging within him, he groaned again. But then he kissed her, and there was no hiding the depth of his emotions.
“What are we doing?” he eventually asked.
“Enjoying ourselves?”
Her matter-of-fact statement must have been just the right answer because he laughed before sweeping her off her feet and settling her back into bed.
“Comfortable?” Dane asked, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
She nodded.
“Need anything?” he asked in a throaty whisper. “Water…Extra pillow…A cookie?” Perched on the side of the bed, skimming her hair, he stared at her. Expectantly. Like maybe he needed something, but wasn’t sure what. His warmth alongside her felt good on the chilly night.
Smiling, she shook her head.
He rose, taking his warmth with him. “All right, then. I, ah, guess I’ll head to my room.”
“O-okay.” Something about him in the dreamy lamplight made him almost unbearably handsome. His unreadable eyes, mussed hair and whisker-stubbled jawline. Was it wrong for her to want for nothing more than him to stay?
At the door, he said, “Remember, if you need anything—anything at all, I’m right down the hall.” He hooked his thumb in that direction.
“That rhymed,” she couldn’t resist teasing with a giggle while trying to still her racing heart. “All—down the hall.”
Curiously sober, he said, “You know what I mean.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. Boy, did she. Which was why she summoned her every ounce of courage to take him up on his offer. Shyly patting the empty side of her bed, she asked, “Stay? Please? I’ll behave….” Flashing him a smile, she added, “I just don’t want you to go.”
Faintly smiling back, already headed her way, he said, “Me, neither.”
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” GABBY SAID to Mama Bocelli Friday night, handing her a bouquet of two dozen hot-pink roses and a box of candy. The house smelled heavenly—rich with tomato sauce, Italian sausage and, of course, all sorts of cheeses. When Gabby’s stomach rumbled in anticipation, the baby kicked.
Mama refused the gifts and shrieked, “What are you doing out of bed?”
“Relax,” Dane said, taking the flowers and chocolates, then setting them on the hall table. “As long as she lies on the sofa ASAP, she has her doctor’s permission. I heard it myself.”
“That may well be,” Mama said, “but you’re under my care now, and I say you shouldn’t be up.”
“What’re you doing out of bed?” Nana asked. She’d entered the room arm in arm with a well-dressed, silver-haired man. Nana was wearing her best red dress and must’ve just had her hair done as it was teased into a shellacked pile high on her head. “Go lie down.”
Nana let go of the man Gabby presumed to be her Flavor of the Month and ushered Gabby into her purple recliner.
“Don’t get up again,” Mama said, pulling the lever that made the footrest pop out.
Sighing, Gabby looked to Dane for rescue, but he merely smiled and shrugged.
“Some help you are,” she said to him under her breath while Nana and Mama fought over whether or not Gabby needed a blanket.
“They scare the hell out of me,” he muttered. “I’m staying out of it.”
“You’re a wise man,” Dane’s father said, strolling up behind his son. “I avoid your mother as much as humanly possible.”
“Me, too,” Uncle Tommy said, a clear plastic tumbler filled with red wine in one hand and a thick wedge of garlic toast in the other.
Aunt Frieda had joined the great blanket debate.
An hour later, seeing how Mama still wouldn’t allow Gabby to leave her recliner, the entire party had moved to the living room. From TV trays, they ate lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, fettuccini alfredo and homemade creamy Italian-dressed salads. Dane’s father had wanted to watch ESPN during dinner, but since it was Mama’s birthday, her vote was the only one that mattered. Breakfast at Tiffany’s was showing on TCM.
After the main course, there was tiramisu and singing before Mama blew out the candles on her birthday cake. She had four wrapped gifts. One was a new diamond watch from her husband.
Hands over her mouth, eyes shiny with tears, in a rare show of emotion, she kissed Pops full on his lips. “Thank you, Papa Bear.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, patting her ample behind.
Papa Bear? Gabby mouthed behind her hand to Dane.
He laughed.
Mama then opened a new Sunday hat from Uncle Tommy and Aunt Frieda. It was big and pink with plenty of netting, sequins and silk flowers. Following that was a red bathrobe and matching slippers from Nana. Her date’s gift was a brass butterfly that was a little dusty and tarnished behind the wings.
Nana blurted, “Wasn’t that the same gift you gave Helen for her last birthday?” Earlier in the night, they’d all learned Helen was Arthur’s former wife. Oops.
Glaring at her mother, Mama put the butterfly back in its box, and then rose. “Since I’m the birthday girl, I think all of the boys should do the dishes.”
“Here, here!” Aunt Frieda said.
“Yeah, and once Dane’s out of the room,” Nana said, “I want the inside scoop on what our little Gabrielle and him have been up to. Have you seen the way she glows?”
“That’s my cue to get out of here,” Dane said under his breath. “Good luck.” He patted Gabby’s right shoulder.
“Now that he’s out of the way,” Nana said, parking herself in the recliner next to Gabby’s, “give us some dirt. What have you two been up to?”
The kitchen phone rang. Gabby took it as her out. “Shouldn’t you get that?”
“Nah—” Nana waved in that general direction “—that’s what the menfolk are for. Now, has Dane proposed?”
“Wh-what?” Gabby struggled not to choke on her spit. Her back had really been throbbing, and now she had to deal with this?
“You heard me. Is he going to make an honest woman of you?”
Aunt Frieda cleared her throat. “Nana, would you like me to help you get ready for bed?”
“Bed?” Nana snorted. “Do I look like a nine-year-old to you?”
“Mama,” Dane said, cordless phone in hand. “It’s for you.”
“Who is it?” she asked. “Nancy from down the street? I was just thinking she hadn’t wished me a happy day, when for her birthday, I—”
“Mama,” Dane repeated, complexion ashen as he stared at Gabby, “it’s Ben.”
THE BIG ITALIAN DINNER IN Dane’s stomach roiled. Just hearing his little brother’s voice made him want to punch a wall. So cavalier. Just shooting the breeze. Acting as if this was any ordinary call on any ordinary day. Forget the fact that the woman he’d knocked up and then abandoned was in the same room. Forget that Ben had not only put Gabrielle through hell, but their parents, as well.
“Why, yes,” Mama said into the phone, “she is here. Want to talk with her?”
Gabrielle wildly waved her arms in the universal symbol for no!
“Thank you, son. I’d like to see you, too….”
Still waving, Gabrielle was now also shaking her head.
“Yes, well,” Mama droned on, “here she is…” Covering the phone’s mouthpiece, she whispered to Gabrielle, “He says he misses you, and hopes you’ll give him a second chance. Talk to him, sweetheart. All he wants to do is talk.”
Dane said, “Mama, can’t you see she plainly doesn’t want to speak to Ben? For God’s sake, she’s trembling.” He sat on the armrest of Gabrielle’s recliner, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
“With excitement,” Mama said. “Go ahead, sweetie. Talk to him. I told you Ben would come around.”
“Mom,” Dane ground out, teeth clenched, “stay out of this.”
Forcing a deep breath, Gabrielle reached for the phone. “Ben?”
Not wanting to hear Gabrielle talking to his brother, Dane stood and left not only the room, but the house, which all of a sudden seemed far too small.
Out on the front porch, he took a seat on the top step. The air was nippy. Monday’s storm had brought much cooler temperatures. The kids playing night tag across the street were wearing sweatshirts and jeans instead of their usual shorts and T-shirts.
The week had been idyllic. He’d for once let down his guard and allowed himself to fantasize about a life with Gabrielle and her son.
“Don’t tell me you’re just giving up?”
Great. Nana had burst out the screen door. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Dane, and clearly you’re the winner.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a contest,” he said.
“Bull.” She smacked the back of his head. “I thought you knew better than to lie to your elders.”
“Who says I’m lying?”
Sitting beside him, she said, “You are the most competitive person I know. You got that from me.” Winking, she patted his knee. “Which is why you’re marching right back into that house to rip the phone out of her hand.”
“Nana…” He sighed. “It’s hardly that simple.”
“Damn straight. So what are you still doing out here?”
Laughing, Dane said, “You are something else. I really need to ask you for advice more often.”
“I know.” She flashed him a big smile. “But if it got to be a habit, I’d have to charge you.”
“WELL?” GABBY ASKED DANE. The trip home had already seemed long and they’d only been in the car for three minutes. The dark cocooned them, lending a cozy feel that was false considering the night’s big event. “Aren’t you going to ask what he said?”
“Didn’t figure it was any of my business.” Dane tightened his grip on the wheel.
“For the record,” she said, adjusting the heat to blast on her frigid feet, “it’s very much your business. We’re a team, you and I, and the last thing I want you thinking is that I wanted to talk to him.”
“If you didn’t, why did you even take the phone? Why not tell my mother to shove it where—”
“Okay, whoa,” she said, resting her hands on her stomach, “I would never dream of telling your mother any such thing. Especially on her birthday. It obviously meant a lot to her that I talk to Ben, so I did. End of story.”
Pulling the car to a stop at a red light, Dane glanced over at her. “Just tell me already. Is he coming back? Did he pour out some mushy, gushy apology that made you instantly forgive him, and—”
Unfastening her seat belt, Gabby leaned across the center console to kiss the man quiet.
The driver of the car behind them honked.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he grumbled.
“Yes, sir.” After giving him a sharp salute, she turned the heater to a higher setting.
“Knock off the sarcasm. This is serious, Gabrielle.”
“Okay, here’s how it went down. Yes, he apologized. No, I didn’t accept it. Yes, he poured out a ton of stereotypical Ben-isms, no doubt carefully planned to tug at my heartstrings. Only they didn’t. Want to know why?”
He stayed silent.
“Dane?” she verbally nudged. “Don’t you want to know?”
“Does it matter?” He steered the car onto the still-busy expressway.
“Heck, yeah, it matters because the whole time I was listening to him, I was thinking about you.” She took a deep breath. “I think I may be falling for you, Dane.”
“What?” Glaring at her, he swerved onto the shoulder but quickly corrected his mistake. “Do we have to discuss this now?”
“I guess not,” she said, digging through her purse for gum. She hoped if she struck a cavalier attitude about having just dropped the emotional time bomb that’d been ticking inside her that Dane might think her speech a joke. “Actually, forget it. We never have to discuss it again.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I want to be able to look at you, and in this traffic, I can’t.”
“Fine. We’ll talk when we get home.”
“Great.”
Ten minutes later, Dane pulled his car into her drive. He helped her out of her seat, across the yard and up the front porch steps. He unlocked the door, ushered her inside. All without saying a word.
Which was just as well, considering that Gabby didn’t even want to look at Dane, let alone launch a heavy talk. Her back hurt, and she longed to lie down.
After a quick stop in the bathroom, Gabby struggled with changing into pink-and-white polka-dot pj’s and then waddled to her bed.
“Why didn’t you wait for me to help?” Dane asked, standing at her open bedroom door.
“I managed just fine on my own.”
Sighing, he said, “The last thing I want to do is fight.”
“Then don’t.” Gesturing toward her bedside lamp, she asked, “Would you mind turning that off?”
“Yes, actually, I would mind.” He made himself at home in his usual armchair. “Now, where were we?”
“I was about to go to sleep.”
“Not just yet. Now, back to what you were saying in the car. Your admission that you might be falling for me? Is that really how you feel?”
“No.” Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “I don’t know what made me say that. I must have still been on a high from too much birthday-cake frosting.”
“Don’t do this,” he asked, leaning forward to take her hand. “If that’s the way you feel, I’m okay with it.”
“You’re okay?” she shrieked. “Get out!”
“Calm down,” he said, squeezing her hand, which she promptly jerked free.
“I will not. I essentially told you you’ve become—I don’t know—an integral part of my life. And you had no response other than to nearly run us off the road.”
“I’m sorry.” He took her hand back and, no matter how hard she tugged, refused to let go. “You surprised me. That was the last thing I expected you to say.”
“You think I planned to say it?” Let alone feel it? With her free hand, she swiped away hot, messy tears.
“Then what do you want to do?” Stroking the top of her hand with the pad of his thumb, he said, “I’m in uncharted waters here. I’ve never been any good at this sort of thing, so you’re going to have to show me the way.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, refusing to even meet his gaze. “You’re either attracted to me, or you’re not. There’s nothing mystical about it.” Reaching for a tissue, she added, “Get it over with. Tell me you don’t feel a thing for me other than pity.”