Judy Christenberry - The Nine-Month Bride

Anger and disappointment when she realized he wouldn’t cooperate. And forgiveness when she heard his admission of having lost a son. No one should have to suffer such pain.

Even though she’d been curious about his past, Susannah decided it would be best if she didn’t ask anyone about Lucas Boyd. How could she explain her interest?

Instead, she concentrated on her desire to have a child. It would be easy to chalk up her decision to her internal clock. But she knew better. She didn’t need a child for fulfillment. She loved her work and believed in the need to encourage reading.

But she wanted a child. A family. A way to pass on the important things she’d learned from her loving parents. A personal connection to the future. She actually ached with longing when she saw a young woman carrying a baby.

“Susannah, you need to find a man.”

“It’s not necessary these days, Abby. I can manage just fine without that added complication.” She kept her voice calm, swallowing the tremor that ran through her.

Abby frowned. “Some man must’ve really done a number on you, Susannah. They’re not all bad.”

Turning her head away, Susannah tried to think of another subject that would engage Abby’s interest. She didn’t want to discuss her insignificant experience with men. The one time she’d thought she’d fallen in love, the man had dumped her because she hadn’t accepted his advances with open arms. He’d labeled her frigid.

Susannah wondered if the newest shipment of books would distract Abby. “Did you see that we received the latest Nora Roberts romance? Have you put your name on the list to check it out?”

“I don’t want to talk about books. What you’re thinking of doing—”

“Morning, Abby, Miss Langston,” a deep drawl interrupted.

Susannah almost passed out. She didn’t have to turn around, or wait for Abby’s greeting. That voice told her who was standing in front of her counter.

“Why, Lucas! I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age. What are you doing in the library?” Abby asked, a big smile on her face. “Have you met Susannah—well, I guess you have or you wouldn’t have greeted her by name.”

Susannah avoided looking at Abby, but she heard the curiosity—and speculation—in Abby’s voice. “Hello, Mr. Boyd. Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yes, Lucas, just what are you looking for? I’ve never seen you in the library before.”

“Well, Abby, I’m looking for a private conversation with the librarian,” Lucas said, a grin on his face.

Abby’s interest sharpened. “Oh, really? Now, isn’t that interesting?”

Susannah had no idea what the man wanted, but she knew she didn’t want to deal with any more comments from Abby. “Could you please watch the counter while I talk with Mr. Boyd, Abby? I shouldn’t be long.”

“I’ll be happy to.”

Ignoring Abby’s grin, Susannah looked at Lucas Boyd for the first time and drew a deep breath. The man oozed sex appeal. “Shall we go into my office, Mr. Boyd?”

He nodded and came around the end of the counter, then waited for her to lead the way.

Her back ramrod straight, Susannah stalked into her small office, wishing she’d cleaned her desk this morning. She wasn’t compulsively neat, but she didn’t want the man following her to think badly of her.

Almost laughing at that ridiculous thought, as if this man’s opinion mattered, Susannah straightened her features and sat down behind her desk. She paused as he removed his hat and hung it on the antique hat stand. A shiver ran down her spine. The conversation must be important if he took off his hat.

“Won’t you be seated?” she asked politely, gesturing to the small narrow chair across from her, the only other seat in the room.

He eyed the chair suspiciously, as if he didn’t think it would hold him. He could be right. He was a big man, several inches over six feet, his body a solid mass of muscle.

“I think I’ll stand. That seat doesn’t look any too stable.” He smiled but didn’t wait for her response. Instead he turned away and looked out the small window. Since she knew the view encompassed the parking lot, a few scraggly buildings and the mountains in the distance, she didn’t think it was that compelling.

“How may I help you, Mr.—” She broke off as she remembered their last meeting. Somehow her question seemed inappropriate. “I mean—why are you here?”

His intense blue eyes lightened slightly as he turned around, a grim smile on his face. Clearly he understood her change of question. “I think I owe you an apology.”

He took her by surprise.

“I—I can’t think of any reason.”

“I can. I was angry when you—about the misunderstanding we both suffered two weeks ago. I don’t think I was much of a gentleman about it.”

She waved a hand in dismissal, but she couldn’t trust herself to say anything.

“You see, I’d made a difficult decision. And I wanted to get on with it. When Doc said you were coming, I assumed he’d explained my offer and you’d accepted. I could already see my son—” He broke off and turned back to the window.

Tense silence filled the room, and Susannah sought to ease it. “I guess an old-maid librarian was a bit of a shock, too.”

He turned and stared at her attempt to smile.

“If you’re an old maid in Colorado, it’s got to be your choice, Miss Langston. We don’t have all that many available ladies to choose from except in the cities.”

Color filled her cheeks and she looked away. “I don’t meet any men at the library.”

“Why?”

“I guess they’re not big readers.”

He stood with his hands on his trim hips, watching her intensely. “No. I don’t mean why don’t you meet men. Why do you want a baby?”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, then nibbled at her bottom lip. She wasn’t about to bare her soul to this stranger. “Why do you?”

He frowned, as if surprised by her turning the tables. Well, she had as much right to ask questions as he did, she decided, raising her chin.

“For the obvious reasons.”

“Me, too.”

Frustration filled his handsome features. “That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“But it’s the answer you gave,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but I’m a—”

“A man?” She finished the sentence when he didn’t continue.

A sideways grin only made him more attractive. “So I’m dealing with a feminist here, am I?”

To avoid looking at him, she picked up a pen and doodled on the pad of paper on her desk. “You’re dealing with an educated woman, Mr. Boyd. Not one who’s going to accept stereotypes and limitations because she’s a woman.”

He gave a disgruntled chuckle. “You’re not like Beth at all.”

“Beth?” She suspected the woman’s identity, but she waited for him to confirm her thought.

“My wife. She—she and my son died in childbirth,” he murmured, looking away. “Three years ago.” He swallowed, as if forcing down emotion.

“I’m sorry. But no, I’m probably not like her.”

“She was little…and sweet and beautiful.” His voice was dreamy and sad. Then it changed as he added firmly, “And she always agreed with me.”

“Well, that confirms it. I’m definitely not like Beth.” She was ready to end the conversation. He didn’t owe her an apology, and she didn’t want to discuss beautiful women whose husbands adored them. Or little boys who died before they could even live. “I appreciate your apology,” she said, rising, “but it wasn’t necessary.”

“Wait! I—you never explained why you want a baby.”

“Neither did you,” she said pointedly.

“I told you about Beth and the baby!” he returned. When she said nothing, he added, “I’m trying to work something out here!” He put his hands back on his hips, a scowl on his face.