Emily McKay: Surrogate and Wife

The thought of sharing a meal with Jake sent a shiver of apprehension through her. Georgetown, once a sleepy college town, had grown as the sprawl from Austin crept up IH 35. Like many small Texas towns overtaken by suburbia, Georgetown struggled to maintain its own identity. The historic town square, situated around the Williamson County Courthouse, with its collection of locally owned stores and restaurants was one of the ways Georgetown distinguished itself from larger, more liberal Austin.

While food sounded good to Kate, the romantic atmosphere of one of the local restaurants did not. Dinner was entirely too intimate. Too datelike. She sniffed dismissively. “Then you should have worn a coat.”

“I meant for you. You’re shivering already.”

He was right, of course. Ever since the pregnancy, she’d been unusually cold. Which, for some reason, she didn’t want to explain to him. Talking about pregnancy symptoms seemed even more intimate than dinner.

Suddenly she was aware how intimate their relationship already was. The bond they shared was so much deeper than just the sexual bond that usually accompanied intimacy. They’d created a life together.

A part of Jake was in her.

The thought unnerved her, so she fisted her hands on her lapels and pulled her jacket more closely around her body. She didn’t want to eat dinner with him. Didn’t want to do anything with him. Yet there probably were things they should talk about.

“Okay, then. Dinner it is.”

Fifteen minutes later she found herself opposite him in a booth at one of the restaurants on the square, a mug of hot tea in front of her, a bowl of tortilla soup and a plate of cheese enchiladas on the way.

As she sipped her tea, she studied him over the rim of her mug. He sat in the middle of the bench with one arm stretched across the back, making his shoulders appear even wider so that he seemed to take up the entire booth.

Jake was so different from all the other men she knew. Men with manicured hands and suit jackets custom-made to make their shoulders appear wider than they were. Her gaze drifted down to Jake’s hand where it rested, palm down on the Formica beside his beer. His hands were big, muscular even, with long tapered fingers that ended in clean but unmanicured nails. They were unquestionably masculine. Tough, almost.

Had she ever noticed a man’s nails before? She didn’t think so. There was something oddly personal about looking at Jake’s hands. Warmth swirled through her body, pooling somewhere deep inside of her. Where she carried his baby.

She jerked her gaze back to his, cursing the blush she could feel on her cheeks. His eyes were practically gleaming with amusement. As if he could read her thoughts and knew just how unsettled he made her feel.

A scowl settled on her face and she sat up straighter. “Don’t—”

“Let me stop you right there,” he interrupted. “We both know you don’t like me.”

“I don’t know you well enough to like you or not,” she protested.

“Okay, don’t approve of me.”

Well, she couldn’t really argue with that. They’d only met on a handful of occasions and she’d never been able to relax around him. She saw right through his laidback charm to the testosterone-fueled masculinity beneath. It was less that she didn’t approve of him and more that she simply didn’t know what to do with him. Which made her very nervous. She also couldn’t deny how drawn to him she felt. Why now? Why Jake of all people?

Maybe this sudden attraction she felt was just some weird pregnancy thing. Maybe her body somehow knew he was the father of the child she carried. If that was the case, all the more reason to maintain her distance.

So she stiffened her spine as well as her resolve, and said, “No, I don’t.”

“Regardless of that, we’re in this together now.”

“I disagree. If anyone is in this together, it’s Beth, Stewart and me. Your part in this is, thankfully, over.”

“That might have been true before, but now—”

“Nothing is different now.”

“You can’t really be that naive.”

She bristled at his words, even though there was nothing objectionable in his tone. She leaned forward over the table. “Trust me. I am anything but naive. I understand exactly—”

“Okay, not naive then.” He held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “But you’ve got to admit, things are going to be a lot different than any of you planned.”

“Yes, they’ll be different, but I’ll manage.”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her concession. “You were planning on Beth and Stew helping you out. Taking care of you. Things are going to be different now. They’ve got their own pregnancy to contend with.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself? Trust me, I’ve been doing it for years. Far longer than most women my age, actually.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“From what Beth has said, you haven’t had an easy first trimester, but it’s only going to get worse. The second trimester won’t be too bad, but by the time you hit the third trimester, you’ll—”

“What makes you such an expert? Have you taken some sort of course in prenatal care?”

He grimaced. “No, but five of my buddies have had babies in the past eighteen months. I’ve heard my share of complaints about late-night cravings and women who can’t tie their own shoelaces.”

“Well, unless you’re planning on moving in with me, I don’t see how you could help with either one of those situations.” She chuckled, but the sound died in her throat when she realized he wasn’t laughing with her. “Oh my God. You can’t be serious.” She gaped at him in disbelief, waiting for him to crack a smile and laugh at her expense. He didn’t even blink. “You are serious. You think we should move in together.”

Kate jerked away from him and shrank back into the booth. “Are you insane?”

Okay, that could have gone a little more smoothly.

“Just hear me out—”

“I mean, I knew you were crazy in that, anyone-willing-to-run-into-a-burning-building kind of way, but this?”

Okay, a lot more smoothly.

“Or are you joking? Because this just isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking. And if you’ll just give me a chance to explain—”

But before he could, the waitress approached with their food.

Kate fumed in silence while their plates were distributed, glaring at him from across the table as if wishing she could charge him with contempt of court.

“Okay, talk,” she ordered as soon as the waitress was out of earshot. “But make it good, because I’m having a hard time believing that you’ve been nursing a secret desire to cater to the whims of a second-trimester pregnant woman.”

She continued her diatribe for a solid four more minutes. He didn’t bother interrupting—she wouldn’t have let him, anyway. Instead, he took the opportunity to study her.

With her ivory complexion and thick black hair pulled back from her face, he’d have to be dead not to notice how beautiful she was. She wasn’t anything like the women he normally dated, but she piqued his interest. Smart, sexy and fiercely independent. Challenging enough to keep things interesting without ever being clingy or emotionally demanding.

Not that he’d dream of pursuing her now. That would only screw up an already complicated situation. To make matters worse, he couldn’t help admiring how she resisted his help. Even though it made things more difficult for him.

“I wouldn’t have to actually move in,” he pointed out once she seemed to lose steam. “But I could still help out.” Changing tactics, he said, “Beth and Stew are worried about you.”