Anne Eames - The Pregnant Virgin

“Come on, man. Ya gotta have some fun.”

“I do. Today was fun.” Most of it.

Craig stopped at the intersection and faced him. “I could find out where she works. Maybe you could—”

“It isn’t going to happen, so forget it.” He turned away and eyed the traffic light impatiently.

Craig didn’t move when the light changed. “I detect there’s more to this story. Am I right?”

Brad stepped off the curb and Craig stopped him.

“Well? Am I?”

Brad let out a long breath and backed up onto the sidewalk. There was only one way to shut Craig up and that was to tell him the truth. “Okay. But I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.”’

“What? What?”

Brad leaned closer and whispered, “She works at the clinic.”

“What clinic?” Craig said loudly, catching the interest of a passing couple.

Brad gave him a bugged-eyed stare and a few seconds to figure it out.

“No! You don’t mean—”

Brad nodded, wishing this would be the end of the subject, but knowing sooner or later Craig would bring it up again.

Craig just stood there shaking his head, until finally he said, “Sure you don’t want to hang out with me tonight?”

“Positive.”

The light turned green again and they crossed the street. “What a waste,” Craig mumbled under his breath.

Brad wished he could disagree. But he couldn’t. It had been a long time since he’d been attracted to someone. All through dinner he had felt an undercurrent of something going on between them. And the one time he had accidentally brushed her leg under the table he’d felt his pulse quicken. The mere closeness of her had generated more heat than his rusted radiator on the coldest night. Strange. They had barely spoken to each other, yet—

Craig stopped in front of Trapper’s Alley. A few nurses from the hospital standing just inside saw him and came running out. Brad called good-night over his shoulder and kept walking, glad to be alone with his thoughts. If he was going to spend the evening debating what to do about Ali—

Wait a minute. What debate? Was there a choice?

Okay, maybe. In either case, he much preferred the quiet privacy of his Murphy bed to sort things out than on some ear-splitting dance floor.

He rounded the last corner to his building and had a sudden image of dancing with Ali. He could almost feel her—

A wino staggered out of an alley and Brad nearly knocked him down. After righting the guy, Brad apologized and went on, telling himself to get a grip.

Across the street, framed in the first-floor picture window, he saw his landlady rocking away, watching the world go by. When she spotted him she smiled a gap-toothed smile and waved a gnarled brown hand. Her door to the hall was open, so he called out to her as he climbed the stairs.

“Good night, Sally.”

“You in for the night?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled.

“That’s a good boy.”

The old lady could sometimes be a pain, but he knew she cared about her building and her tenants.

There was a lot to be said for that.

At lunchtime on Monday Ali ate at her desk and in spite of earlier misgivings, read more of her novel, feeling envious of the heroine who had found the man of her dreams.

Man of her dreams.

Every time she closed her eyes these days there was only one man in Ali’s dreams. And he had an appointment here in fifteen minutes. She had half expected him to cancel, but now that the time had drawn near, it didn’t look as though he would.

She put her book away and rested her chin on her fist. He was married, she reminded herself, so there was no hope for a relationship. Still, she closed her eyes and remembered his perfect face smiling down at her. Ah…

She opened her eyes and nearly fell off her chair. Brad was leaning on the counter, smiling down at her. She blinked, trying to separate fact from fiction.

He was still there. And instantly she felt a pleasurable tension running through her.

“Sleeping on the job?” he asked, a playful tilt to his head. She looked at her watch, stalling for time.

“I was just…just—” Damn. This was so awkward. She had to stop all this fantasizing! At a loss for words, she simply said, “You’re early.”

“I know.” He looked around as if to be certain they were alone. “I was hoping we could talk a little.”

“About what?” That you’re married? Or that I might be pregnant with your child? Anxiety won out over pleasure as she wondered how she was going to face this man week after week.

“Well, first I wanted to thank you for not saying anything at dinner the other night.”

She told herself to relax. He was just being nice. “No problem. Besides, it’s nobody’s business.”

Suddenly he was the one to look ill at ease. “I don’t know why coming here is so embarrassing. I’m a doctor, for Pete’s sake. It’s just that…well, I was wondering if maybe you—”

Another client approached the counter and signed in. Then the phone rang and she mouthed “I’m sorry” before Brad shoved his hands into his pockets and walked toward the chairs along the wall.

By the time she had finished the second call she heard someone moving behind her and swiveled in her seat. It was the technician looking for Brad’s folder. She walked over and handed it to him and he ushered Brad off.

It wasn’t until some time later, after he had left the clinic, that she remembered what he had started to say. I was wondering if maybe you—

If maybe what? You’d like me to father your child? Why, yes. That would be very nice, thank you.

Another client stopped at the counter and she wiped the smile off her face. She had to do something about this imagination of hers. It was going to get her into trouble someday. Maybe it was time she switched to horror fiction.

On Thursday, Ali stopped in the hospital gift shop to check out the new arrivals. They always had the cutest seasonal decorations and infant clothes. She was trying to decide whether she liked the papier-mâché ghost or witch the best when she glanced up and saw Brad in the next aisle.

He looked up and a warm smile lit his face. “Hi,” he said, looking sincerely glad to see her.

“Hi,” she said, praying he wouldn’t notice how very glad she was to see him.

He was holding a small pair of blue overalls that, after looking at the price tag, he put back on the rack.

She hadn’t even considered that he might have children. For some strange reason she’d hoped hers would be the first. He looked up at her again and she did her best to hide her thoughts.

“For your son?” she asked.

He laughed. “Oh, no. Not me. Just looking for a little something for one of my patients. Delivered my first baby today.” He beamed as if he were the proud father himself. “Eight pound healthy boy. Any suggestions?”

She didn’t know how much he wanted to spend and wasn’t comfortable asking, but since most residents she’d met were broke she pointed to a blue-trimmed terry bib with an attached pacifier. “This is usually a safe bet.”

He picked one up and said, “Great. Thanks.” Then, turning to face her, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, Ali…I’m not very good at this, but would you like to do something tomorrow night?”

She stared at him, not believing her ears. She’d been sitting right there after the game when he’d talked about his wife. What did he think she was?

She headed for the door, not even dignifying the question with an answer. “Excuse me. I have to get back to work.”

“Wait a minute.” He was right on her heels. “I know I’m out of practice, but what did I say wrong?”

She spun on him. “It’s not what you said. It’s what you left out.”