My Babies and Me

“If his face mask malfunctioned, isn’t Halliday responsible?”

“We would be if he’d been wearing it to play softball—the mask’s intended use.”

“Why was he wearing it?”

Susan looked up at her brother. “He was playing soccer.”

“Halliday’s getting off on a technicality?”

“A big one.”

“And the kid?”

Susan shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if the surgery’s performed, he’s not going to be able to walk again without rehabilitation.” She took a deep breath. “I could win this one for him if I were on his side. I know of a loophole that would override ours.” “Damn!” Seth whistled. “You sure as hell don’t need to be wasting energy worrying about babies, Susan. Sounds like you’ve got some soul-searching to do a lot closer to home.”

“Yeah.” She’d be doing some soul-searching, all right, but having a baby was about as close to home as she could get.

A MESSAGE FROM Michael was waiting for her back at the office. Susan was inordinately disappointed to have missed his call. Especially in light of the dissatisfying hour and a half she’d just spent with her punk of a brother. Who the hell did he think he was telling her she wasn’t mother material? How would he know?

Of course she was mother material. She just hadn’t had the occasion to use those maternal skills or instincts or whatever they were...yet. But she would as soon as she could.

Her fingers didn’t falter this time as she punched out Michael’s number. She had a goal. A purpose. And no one was going to stop her.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy is out of town today....”

And that about summed up the day for her, Susan thought as she dropped the phone back in its cradle. He’d left town on her birthday. He’d left town without telling her. What in hell was the world coming to?

She listened indifferently to the remainder of her messages. Her father had called to wish her happy birthday. No round of golf for her. Only her brothers got that invitation for their birthdays. Julie, her brother Scott’s wife, not only called to wish her happy birthday, but to invite her to little Joey’s second birthday party the following week. Scott was her oldest brother. And her least favorite. He was so much like their dad he made her crazy. But he was a good man and when she was in a normal mood, she had to love him.

Spencer, the doctor in the family and the youngest brother, had called for him and Barbara, his wife, who was also a doctor. What was this? It seemed as if everyone was ganging up on her. Like there was a conspiracy to make her feel better or something. Did they know how miserable she felt? How much she wished the day would just go away?

The thought gave her chills. She didn’t want any of them to guess that she wasn’t just hunky dory and happy-go-lucky with her perfect little life. She’d been defending it to them forever, and she’d bloat up and burst if she suddenly had to eat all those words.

Besides, Stephen and Sean hadn’t called yet. Which meant no conspiracy was afoot. Sean, the brother between Seth and Spencer, was the organizer of mutinies in the family. He’d have been the first to call and gloat if he thought he had a way to get to her. And Stephen? Well, she wouldn’t be surprised to get a birthday call from him sometime in March. If it weren’t for the fact that he was a renowned nuclear scientist, she’d worry about his IQ. The man was about as clueless as they came. He was also closest to Susan in age, being only one year her senior. He was going to hit forty this year.

Snatching the phone back up, Susan buzzed her assistant. “I’ll be out for the rest of the day,” she said the second Jill answered. She didn’t want to enter into any discussions about research and cases on the docket. It was her birthday and she was damn well going to enjoy it. Somehow. She loved birthdays.

“The McArthur boy lost his lawyer,” Jill reported anyway. “I figured you’d want to know.”

That was true. Susan did want to know. Later.

“Any change in his condition?” she asked in spite of herself.

“Still paralyzed.”

“Thanks.” Susan made a mental note to seek out Tricia Halliday the following week. Surely they could find a compromise on this particular case.

She just wondered how much groveling or bribing she’d have to do to get the hard-hearted woman to budge. Tricia cared about being right. Not about being human.

“I’m taking tomorrow off, as well,” she decided out loud. The next day was Friday. She was giving herself a birthday present.

“Heading for Chicago?” Jill asked. Susan could hear the impertinent grin in her assistant’s voice.

“Not that you know about.”

“Don’t worry, Susan, there’ll be no calls from me unless the old lady croaks.”

“Even that can wait until Monday,” Susan muttered as she hung up the phone.

Michael’s secretary had said he’d be back that night. She was going to be there to welcome him home personally. She needed a fix.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d get up the guts to ask for the present she wanted most in the world.

A tiny little life to nurture and love and fill her up again.

She had a feeling she’d have to put forth the most convincing argument of her life if she hoped to win this one. Of course, that was what she’d thought when she’d been set on talking Michael out of their divorce. And look where that had gotten her.

MICHAEL TRIED to reach Susan again when he touched down in Chicago. Not only was he dying to share his news, even if everything was only in the possibility stages, he’d also remembered on the flight home that today was Susan’s birthday. To celebrate, he stopped at the American Airlines counter and bought them both tickets to Hawaii for Easter weekend. It had been too long since either of them had taken a vacation.

The tickets were open-ended, as always. He could change them if Easter wasn’t good for her.

She was out of the office until Monday. Still no answer at the condo. Knowing how much Susan loved birthdays, knowing more than anyone how she did everything to excess, he was sure she’d found some crazy way to celebrate this last birthday in her thirties. Things like that mattered to Susan. Celebrating. And momentous birthdays. Michael usually had to stop and think to even remember how old he was. Age wasn’t anything that had ever mattered to him. He supposed it might be different for women.

Catching sight of a departure board as he walked by, Michael found himself searching for any flights leaving for Cincinnati that evening. He wanted to be with Susan. To share his news. To share her celebration. To make love to her...

He wanted to go home.

And because his wanting threatened to override good sense, Michael went to pick up his forest-green Pathfinder from the airport’s parking garage instead. His home was here for now, in the condo he’d purchased when he’d moved to Chicago seven years ago. He and Susan had made their choices then. Forced to decide between staying together and climbing to the top, neither one had been willing to give up on career success. As great as their marriage had been, their careers had meant more—to both of them.

He had the day’s industrial summaries to go over. Reports to study. He’d catch Susan later when she was all celebrated out.

And maybe he’d be able to talk her into a quick trip to Chicago in the not-too-distant future.

Two DRINKS AT LUNCH. Another one instead of dinner. And peace was as elusive as ever. Seth Carmichael stayed at his desk until his eyes stung from lack of sleep, and he knew he had to pack it in. Go home. He’d been up for more than twenty-four hours. He’d taken the red-eye after last night’s meetings in Alaska to make it back here in time for Susan’s birthday. He’d like to think that meant he’d fall into bed the second he hit his apartment, that he’d sleep the sleep of the just. Or the dead.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

And that was why he was still at work two hours after everyone else had gone home for the night. Of course, they all had families to go home to. Seth had an apartment filled with stale air. There weren’t even any plants sharing the place with him. He was gone so much any plants he brought home just shriveled up and died.

He locked up carefully and walked out of the building that housed the offices held by Hier Engineering. In the parking lot, Seth climbed into his Bronco, pleased with the power beneath his hands as the engine turned over instantly.

Bitch of it was, he liked his life. Or he had. He loved his job. Enough to know that when he was seeing double like this, he had to leave the figures alone. He couldn’t risk a mathematical error that could result in a tragic accident—a building not as sturdy as it needed to be, a bridge that cracked. These were his real nightmares.

Almost of its own accord, Seth’s Bronco headed in the opposite direction from home, toward a part of town he no longer had any reason to visit.

So why were his nights filled with a couple of sullen little faces and a more determined beautiful one? It had been four months since Laura’s ultimatum. Four months.

He felt as raw as if she’d hurled those hateful words only yesterday. They were as clear in his mind as if she had.

Hell, it wasn’t like she’d been a permanent fixture in his life. Or her kids, either. He’d only met them the previous summer when he’d shown up to coach soccer to a bunch of underprivileged kids and met a little boy with a whole lot of defensiveness but a lot of talent, too. He’d been drawn to Jeremy from that very first day, thinking of him at odd times through the weeks that followed—trying to figure out a way to help him.

And the boy’s mother... He could still remember the first time he’d stopped by Jeremy’s house to speak to his parents about the boy’s talent. He’d thought Laura was the boy’s sister when she answered the door. Her silky blond hair had been hanging loose over a frayed tank top. And her cutoff shorts had had more holes in them than her tennis shoes.

He’d been poleaxed right from the start. And that was before she’d even opened her mouth, before he’d discovered her indomitable strength. Before he’d found out the good news—she was single. Divorced.

The Bronco sped down the exit ramp. Seth didn’t reduce his speed as he continued on.

And Susan. What in hell had gotten into his sister? Didn’t she know she was his hero? That he measured everything he did by her standards? How could she do something as stupid, as heartless, as to even consider bringing a child into the world simply because she’d written it down in her damn planner? Who was going to raise that child, nurture him, love him, while Susan spent fourteen hours a day at work?

The soccer field came into view before he slowed down enough to be cautious. Jeremy might not even be there. He’d probably quit practicing the second Seth walked out the door of his mother’s house. Or maybe it had been the next week, when he’d gone to soccer practice and discovered that Seth was no longer his coach.

At least he knew the kid was still on the team. He supposed that was something.

And what would Seth say to the boy if Jeremy was at the field by himself? “Hey, kid, good to see ya. Sorry you weren’t important enough to me.”

Right. Just what a nine-year-old needed to hear. Face it. That was exactly what Jeremy was thinking, anyway. The kid’s father had run out on him. He’d expected Seth to do the same. And Seth had obliged.

The field was empty, just as he’d realized it would be. Of course, it was January. Freezing. Who kicked around soccer balls at eight-thirty on a January night?

Jeremy would have. If Seth had still been around to encourage him. The boy had ability. And he loved to play. Soccer was the one thing that could help Seth get through to Jeremy. That could make Jeremy feel good about himself.

Driving by Laura’s house was a given.

Maybe he should stop in to say hello. Just to make sure they were all right. There were lights on in the front room, and a glow from the television that appeared to be Jeremy’s only solace these days, his only escape.

The front yard was still nothing but a tiny square of hard dirt; the sidewalk was cracked, pieces missing; half the porch sagged. He’d repeatedly offered to set her up in a better place, a better part of town. She’d refused every time. And when he couldn’t stand having her there any longer, when he’d found her a place on his own, made all the arrangements for her to move, when he’d insisted she accept his offer, she’d given him the ultimatum that had ended everything.

Light flickered on the homemade curtains, probably a reflection from the television screen. He wondered if Jeremy was still looking out for his little sister.

Seth had driven by Jenny’s school last month, and the little girl had been off by herself, leaning against a corner of the building while her classmates played. She’d seen too much in her young life to be capable of make-believe. To find any joy in childish antics.

Seth had hoped to change that, too. Just as he’d once thought he’d be able to bring an easy sparkle back to Laura’s eyes. But the bastard who’d helped create that family had done some real work on all of them. The bruises he’d left behind, both physical and mental, were more than Seth had been able to eradicate.

He’d wanted to be their friend. They’d needed more than that. A single-parent family usually did.

Slamming his gloved hand down hard on the steering wheel, Seth sped away from the run-down neighborhood where Laura lived; he didn’t slow down until he’d reached the bar right around the corner from his apartment complex. He could walk home from there if he got lucky enough to be too wasted to drive.

He just couldn’t believe Susan was actually planning a single-parent family. What if she had a boy? Boys needed fathers. Jeremy was proof of that.

He’d given his sister credit for having more sense.

SHE’D COME PREPARED. Slipping into the public rest room in the lobby of the condo sales office in Michael’s complex, Susan quickly took off her suit, bra and panty hose, donning nylons, a garter and a lavender French-cut negligee. She might be pushing forty but her body still looked good—curved in the right places, tight where it should be. Touching up her makeup didn’t take but a second, just long enough to coat her lips with wet luscious red. Her nipples puckered with cold, and probably a bit of anticipation, too, as she slid her overcoat and shoes back on, picked up her weekend bag and sedately reentered the lobby.

She’d brought protection, too, just in case Michael hadn’t replaced the box they’d finished off the last time she was in town. There was no place in her plan for an unexpected pregnancy, no place for manipulation or dishonesty. If she was going to have Michael’s baby, it was going to be with his permission.

An evening sales associate tossed her a welcoming smile as Susan sailed regally past her and into the night, shaking back her hair. Gold with streaks of light chocolate—that was how Michael had always described her hair. Gold and chocolate. Of course, he’d also said it almost exactly matched the oak of her desk, but that was when he’d had her lying on top of it.

Her desk would have been a little cumbersome to bring, so she’d settled for his favorite whiskey—a rich golden Scotch—and a box of his favorite chocolates—all lights. While he’d understand the significance of her offering, he might think her a little odd for bringing him presents on her birthday, but she wasn’t leaving anything to chance. She wanted his senses overflowing. She wanted distraction.

She wanted to ask a favor and she was scared to death he’d think she was crazy. Of course, his immediate answer would probably be no. She’d wait until he was stone-cold sober before she’d accept that decision.

MICHAEL WAS ELATED and instantly hard when he opened the door of his condo to see Susan standing there, coat gaping, his own personal paramour. But he wasn’t really surprised. He’d been thinking of her all day. Needing her. And she was here.

That was just the way it was with them.

“Lady, you read my mind.” He gathered her close, his hands sliding inside the open overcoat, as he kicked the door closed.

“Hello, Michael,” she laughed when he let her up for air.

He kissed her again, tasting her, turned on as much by the familiarity of her as the luscious breasts he felt against him. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, her collarbone.

“Thank you.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady. She was on fire, too. Even after all these years, it was still instantaneous combustion. For both of them.

“Mind if I put these things down?”

Michael took her bag and the gifts she held without removing his lips from her body. He set her things on the high-backed wicker chair in the foyer and then, turning, forced her backward toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.

He was damn glad she was here.

“WHERE WERE YOU TODAY?” Susan’s words were soft, sleepy, her finger toying with his nipple as he lay facing her, still inside her.

“Atlanta.”

Her eyes were closed, but her face was taut, her body tense as she continued to play with him. “On business?”

“Later.” At the moment, Michael couldn’t even remember why he’d thought the day’s meeting so important.

“Mmm-hmm.” Susan’s tongue darted out to his lips and then was gone. “Later.”

“MICHAEL?”

“Mmm-hmm?” He’d just been thinking he should rouse himself enough to tell her his good news. As soon as he was strong enough for another celebration.

“We can always talk to each other about everything, can’t we?”

Although he didn’t shift from his position propped on the pillows with Susan cradled against his chest, Michael was instantly alert. Lethargy evaporated to be replaced with caution. And maybe something else. Maybe fear.

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Her breathing became more regular as she lay there silently, more relaxed, as though she were going to sleep. Was that it, then? Just a reaffirmation of what they were to each other?

Granted, their relationship was far from traditional, an open-ended friendship with no strings attached. But it worked for him. And for her, too, he thought. Had she just needed reassurance? He was loath to move, to disturb her. Loath to find out there was more.

“So, if...something...changed for me, I could tell you?”

What had changed? “Of course you could.”

Had she found someone else? Someone in Cincinnati? God forbid, someone she wanted to marry?

Michael’s throat was dry, but he tried to be calm, reasonable. She wouldn’t have shown up here tonight, wouldn’t be lying naked in his arms, satiated with a couple of hours of healthy love if there was someone else, right?

Unless...

He thought back to the day—and night—of their divorce. Sex was exactly how she’d said goodbye.

He couldn’t stand the idea of her with someone else.

“So has something changed?” He finally had to ask. Had to know.

“Maybe.”

Maybe? Could you maybe be in love with someone else?

He continued to hold her, to run one hand lightly up and down her naked back.

“You’re not sure?”

The entire conversation was ludicrous. Susan in love with someone else? Making love with someone else? He might have worried about something like that in the beginning, seven years ago, right after their divorce. But now?

“I’m sure.”

His hand stilled. “You are.”

Her hair was rough against his chest as, slowly, she nodded.

Then why in hell are you lying here, naked, in my bed, in my arms? He wanted to shout at her. Almost did.

Until it occurred to him that Susan had every right to fall in love with someone else. And that he had no rights at all. Not anymore.

Once, he had.

But he’d given them up.

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M GOING to have a baby, Michael.”

Michael flew out of bed, hardly aware of her head flopping onto the pillows behind him as he stood on the thick carpet covering his bedroom floor.

And then, feeling incredibly foolish, he realized he must have misunderstood, heard her wrong. He’d thought, for a second there, that she’d told him she was pregnant.

“What did you say?” He stalled, looking for a way to explain his bizarre behavior without actually telling her what he thought she’d said.

She lay there, gazing up at him, the oddest expression on her face. Half fearful, half belligerent. Her chocolately golden hair was scattered about her face and tangled on the pillows beneath her, her lips bare and swollen, her eyes wide. She’d pulled the covers up to her chin. She looked about sixteen.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

The breath knocked out of him, Michael felt as though he’d been sucker punched. If he hadn’t been butt naked he’d have sunk to the floor.

“You...are.” He couldn’t, for the moment, think of anything more intelligent to say.

Still wearing that odd expression, Susan nodded. He hated the way she was looking at him. Hated seeing her so unsure. Hated everything about this damn evening. This day. This life.

“You’re going to have a baby.” He just couldn’t make sense of it.

She nodded again.

Susan was pregnant. His Susan. The woman whose career meant more to her than anything, including him, was going to be encumbered with someone else’s child.

He’d kill the bastard who’d done this to her.

“Who is he?” Michael reached for his slacks and, not taking time for underwear, pulled them on. He would hunt the guy down and kill him with his bare hands for not loving Susan more responsibly. Hell, for loving her at all.

“I don’t know yet.”

So intent was he on finding some shoes, a shirt, he barely heard the words when she first uttered them. But as he buttoned his shirt, cussing at every little buttonhole, her voice slowly sank in.

Whirling, he faced her. “You don’t know yet?” He had to be asleep, having the craziest nightmare of his life. There was no other way to explain the things he was hearing.

Unusually winded, Susan shook her head.

There’d been more than one man? “Well, when are you going to find out?” Didn’t they have to wait until after the baby was born to determine paternity?

“I’m not sure.”

“I’m going downstairs.”

Michael took the stairs three at a time—half sliding, half running in his hurry to get away from her. To get away from the whole sordid mess. With a Scotch in hand, and one small light on above the bar, he paced his living room, doing some quick desperate math. He’d seen Susan at Christmas, but he’d only been able to spare the one day and her whole family had been around. He’d been busy as hell all through the fall with year-end approaching, and dammit, this baby couldn’t be his.

His gut hard, he figured out that it had been a good four months since he’d made love to Susan. And there was no way she was four months along. Her belly was as flat as always. He knew. He’d just spent the past two hours intimately acquainted with it.

Not that he’d wanted the baby to be his. He finished off the shot of whiskey he’d poured. Not at all. Certainly no more than Susan wanted to be pregnant. He couldn’t think of anything she’d want less. Except maybe death. Or anything he’d want less, for that matter.

He also couldn’t get past the sick feeling of knowing that another man had done this to her. Dammit! Why hadn’t she been more careful?

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

She’d appeared behind him, wearing a rumpled men’s shirt. She’d found the shirt he’d worn to work earlier and wrapped herself in it. The shirt reminded him of his meeting with Coppel.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me, Michael.”

He turned toward her. She was right. Lying to each other was one thing he and Susan had never done.

“Okay, yeah, I’m angry.” So angry he could feel his nostrils flaring.

“Why? It has nothing to do with you.”