The Baby Race (19 page)

Undressing as he went Race strode into the
room obviously heading for the shower. Over the last months she'd
come to terms with his insistence that they share a room. He'd
argued that having separate bedrooms might give the social worker
the wrong impression of their relationship. Even after the adoption
was approved, once ensconced in his room she'd found herself
unwilling to leave. And he hadn't asked her to.

She often woke in the middle of the night to
find herself curled against his warmth. He was either unaware that
she gravitated toward him or he chose to ignore the situation.
Still, his casual attitude about dressing and undressing in her
presence made her uncomfortably aware of her unfulfilled hopes and
dreams.

Only the fact that he came to bed long after
her and rose before her eased her embarrassment.

She looked around the room. She'd resisted
the urge to redecorate the sparse, masculine room. When she left
she didn't want to leave part of herself behind. She gave a silent,
humorous laugh. When she left she'd be leaving behind most of her
heart. Without even realizing what he did, Race had stolen it from
her.

His body carried the scent of the snow
falling gently outside.

"Claire, why aren't you dressed?" he asked on
his way past.

"I can't go." To her dismay her voice
wobbled.

Shirt off, Race stopped in his tracks and
turned toward her. "Not go? Why not?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I don't have
anything to wear."

The Valentine's Day dance was Race's
opportunity to mingle with the moneyed people from town and the
surrounding area, to make important contacts, and solicit
donations. What would people say if his new wife didn't appear at
his side to support him?

"What are you grinning about? It's your fault
nothing fits me anymore." She pushed aside her part in creating the
predicament, and hands on her hips glared at him. The motion thrust
her hips forward emphasizing the problem.

He held up a hand and laughed. "Hey, don't
get your mommy hormones in an uproar. Look behind the door."

"I'll hormone you." A bed pillow flew through
the air.

He ducked and grabbed her wrist before she
could throw another. "Claire, I need – want you by my side tonight.
Look behind the door." He turned her gently.

With reverent fingers Claire touched the
dress hanging there. Made of soft, winter-white wool the floor
length dress fell in gentle folds from just below the bust line in
a way that would easily accommodate and camouflage her expanding
belly. Classic in style, the high-necked and long-sleeved the dress
was created to conceal yet reveal at the same time. "It's
beautiful. I've never owned anything so elegant. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it. Lizzie helped me pick
it out. It suits you. Sophisticated yet innocent." Race stepped
close to her.

The scents of crisp winter air and warm
earthy male sent a shaft of yearning through Claire. The top button
undone, his jeans rode low on his hips. Swallowing heavily, she
dragged her gaze from the bulge beneath the placket of his jeans
upward to his face. Melted snow beaded like crystal in his dark
hair. A few stray drops dripped down the ends of his hair's length
and traced a course over his bare chest. Flat male nipples puckered
at the touch of cool water. Claire stepped back and looked quickly
away before Race saw her longing to repeat their kiss in the
snow.

"I'll dress first then you can have the
bathroom." Before he could say anything she grabbed the dress and
headed for the bathroom.

Forty-five minutes later Race emerged from
the bathroom. Claire's breath caught in her throat. Gone was the
rugged cowboy dressed in nothing but jeans and the earthy aroma of
horse and hay. In his place stood a tuxedo-clad vision out of a
dream. The subtle woodsy scent of his aftershave wafted to her.

He moved next to her and turned her to face
the dressing mirror. "We look good together, don't we?"

She stared into the mirror. Two sophisticated
strangers looked back at her. As she'd thought, the dress hid her
pregnancy, but it also lent her an elegant air that fit well with
his GQ look.

"I have something else for you. Happy
Valentine's Day."

Claire accepted the small package hesitantly.
"I didn't get you a gift." Considering their circumstances, a
Valentine's gift had seemed inappropriate. Now she wished she'd
ignored her hesitation.

Race shrugged. "No matter. Open it."

Gifts had been rare in Claire's life. Until
their accident, her parents had provided the necessities, but
involved in their quest for treasure they often lost track of
dates, forgetting birthdays and holidays. Over the years Claire
learned not to feel hurt or neglected and set about making sure
that Bobbie Sue never felt the lack. Giving came easier to her than
receiving.

Her fingers trembled as she carefully pulled
off gold ribbon and smoothed open gilded red paper.

"Don't tell me." Race sighed impatiently.
"You plan to save that scrap of paper. Typical female."

"It's pretty paper."

"It's not big enough to wrap a minute. Open
the box."

Claire smothered her grin. Like a child he
was more excited to see her reaction to his gift to her than he
would be about a gift to him. A perverse sense of humor made her
draw out the moment.

"Oh, Race," she breathed in awe as she opened
the tiny box. A simple gold chain held a small heart-shaped locket.
"It's lovely."

"May I?" He held out his hand.

"Yes, please." She put the locket into his
palm and turned around.

The locket fell into place against her chest
as strong, warm fingers lifted her hair and brushed the skin at the
nape of her neck. Remembering the stroke of those fingers in other
more sensitive spots, she shuddered.

"Are you cold?" Race asked. "This dress
doesn't have much of a back to it, does it?" His palm felt like a
brand against skin left bare by the dip of the dress. In the mirror
she saw color flare in her cheeks. Was it her imagination or did
his hand tremble slightly?

"N-no, I'm fine."

"Look inside."

Rattled by his closeness her fingers fumbled
with the delicate clasp. Race lifted the locket and flipped it
open. Two pictures looked up at her. One side of the locket held a
picture of Bobbie Sue on her birthday as she attempted to blow out
the trick candles. Claire smiled at the look of frustration on the
little girl's face.

The other side of the locket held a picture
of Race. Normally camera shy, the only pictures Claire had ever
seen of him were ones that included a horse. And in those he
usually managed to shield his face. This picture showed him full
face, a photo obviously posed for just this purpose.

Tears blurred her vision. "Thank you, Race.
I'll cherish this forever." She turned to him. His hand trailed
across her back and came to rest on her upper arm. They stood face
to face, their bodies nearly touching. The look in his eyes as he
gazed down at her made her heart race and her thighs quiver.

He bent his head toward her then paused as if
waiting for permission. Claire circled his neck with her arms and
lifted her lips to his.

Their kiss felt like a homecoming, warm and
sweet as fresh made apple pie. His arms surrounded her, holding her
in a safe haven.

Claire's eyelids dropped as she gave herself
over to the passion ever brewing just beneath the surface of their
relationship. With a groan, he locked his arms around her and the
kiss changed.

No longer warm and sweet, it burned hot and
hungry. Time lost meaning as she answered his ardor with long
suppressed zeal. This is where she wanted to be, where she
belonged. It took her a moment to realize he was no longer kissing
her, that he'd grown stiff and cold in her embrace.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked
at his closed face. "What's wrong?"

"This isn't working, is it?"

"W-what isn't w-working?" She pretended not
to understand his question, but her body strained toward his with a
will of its own. The mound of her belly pushed into his lower
abdomen and groin.

"You know what I'm talking about. Our
relationship. Marriage. This." He pulled her closer still. Evidence
of his arousal throbbed against her. "You want me as much as I want
you. Why are we denying ourselves what we both obviously need?"

Want? Need? What about love? Claire's heart
cried out.

"Even though our marriage is temporary,
there's no reason why we can't enjoy each other while we're
together. We're both consenting adults." His suggestion sounded
cold and heartless.

When she stepped away his hands dropped to
his sides and she felt suddenly chilled. She wrapped her arms
protectively around her middle. "Our marriage may be temporary, but
this baby isn't. I can't afford to invest my emotions in a sexual
relationship with you knowing that it's going to end in June."

"It doesn't have to end. We could stay
married."

Claire's heart started to soar then crashed
with Race's next words.

"Who said anything about emotions? I never
planned on getting hitched, but now that we are we might as well
stay together. For the baby's sake of course. Little Whosit will
need a mother and a father. We have a lot in common and we're
certainly compatible in bed."

"What about love?"

Race's grin faded as anger sparked to life in
Claire's eyes and her back stiffened. He knew he'd made a mistake.
Women liked to hear soft words of love not sex. How could he
salvage the situation? Did he even want to?

The answer to the first questions was
obvious.

"I'll admit I'm physically attracted to you,
but I won't lie and say I love you. I stopped saying those words
when I was five."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"I can't remember the times I told my mother
I loved her, only to have her use those feelings to control me. Or
how many times I heard her say those words to her latest lover only
to have that man abuse both her and me. Those three little words
give a person the power to manipulate you. It's better if things
remained as they are." Claire had made it clear she planned to
leave when the year was over. And Race wasn't ready to risk his
heart again.

He might never be ready.

The second question was harder. If Colin and
Lizzie have a baby boy first, the ranch was lost. If Claire had a
baby boy before them, could Race keep it secret that he needed
Grandmere's baby money to save the ranch? And if Claire learned
that he'd given the marriage bonus money to Banner, would she think
he'd deliberately set out to make her pregnant to win the baby
race? Whatever happened, saying "I love you" wouldn't keep the lies
and secrets from dooming their relationship. Better not to dig the
hole any deeper.

"You're a fool. I never have and I never
would try to manipulate you."

"Maybe, maybe not, but a physical
relationship is all I can offer."

"I think the situation is complicated enough
without adding sex to the mix." Claire's tone was as frosty as the
outside weather. "And I won't be a convenient scratching post for
your itch."

His own frustrated anger stirred by her easy
dismissal of the desire between them made him lash out with one
last barb before he strode out of the room. "What about your own
itch?"

~~~~~

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

While snow drifted softly outside, inside the
main room of the Council Falls Country Club men and women talked,
laughed and danced to a live orchestra. Pink, red and white hearts,
cupids and streamers decorated the banquet hall, providing a
whimsical backdrop to the elegantly dressed couples enjoying the
evening.

Despite her argument with Race, Claire had
done justice to the delicious dinner of tender beef tips, asparagus
and baby carrots. The food went a long way toward calming the storm
raging in her heart.

Now she perused the elaborately laden dessert
table. Chocolate mousse, tiny éclairs and chocolate dipped
strawberries already overflowed her plate as she debated over the
wisdom of adding an apple tart and some fresh fruit.

Once her morning sickness had eased last
month, her appetite had returned with a vengeance. Nothing it
seemed – not anger or heartache – could banish hunger. And, she
thought as she glanced down at the plate practically balanced on
the mound of her belly, it showed. No doubt at her six-month
checkup the doctor would chide her again about watching her weight
gain. From one extreme to the other. As much as she wanted the
treats she knew they weren't good for her. With a reluctant sigh
she started to abandon her over-laden plate.

"Dance with me?" Race asked from behind.

She jumped and whirled around. Her plate
tilted precariously. At the last second Race rescued the sweets
from being dumped on the floor and set the plate on the table.
"Dance with me," he repeated and held out his hand.

"I don't know." She hesitated. The thought of
being in his arms tempted her, but what a person wanted wasn't
always what they should have.

"Please? I need to apologize."

The boyish, pleading look in his dark eyes
undid her resolve to shut him out of her life. She placed her hand
in his and let him pull her out onto the crowded dance floor.
Perhaps Race was right, loving someone left you open to being
manipulated. Would their son or daughter be able to control her so
easily as well? The thought left her shaken.

Dim lights and soft strains of music washed
over her as he drew her gently into his arms. Her belly bumped
against him until he adjusted their position to allow for little
Whosit, yet still managed to press them together from shoulders to
knees. Lulled by food, music and motion the baby didn't object. Nor
did Claire.