Mira Kelly - Waking Up Pregnant

She watched him walk to the bathroom and close the door behind him. Heard the muffled sound of the running tap and waited as the seconds ticked past.

Alone in the bed, she glanced around at the suite, noting the luxurious accommodations for the first time. It seemed extravagant. Frivolous.

Sure it wasn’t like he had sixteen rooms, but a suite, for one man through two nights?

The moments stretched by. The water was still running.

Beginning to feel somewhat self-conscious she reached for the sheet at the side of the bed, but came back with a handful of blouse instead.

Don’t go anywhere...

She looked at the sliver of light breaking beneath the door and then at the shirt in her grasp.

Don’t go anywhere...

Five minutes ago she wouldn’t even have considered it. She would have flopped back on the bed relishing the full-body fatigue that was the result of Jeff’s thorough attention.

Obviously, she wouldn’t have planned to stay forever. But she wouldn’t have considered up and leaving while he was in the other room, either.

Except then he’d gone and said it, and a thousand and one thoughts started pushing into her mind. They’d had sex. It was over. And though Jeff might not want her to run off that second, it was obvious from his words he expected her to go shortly. Which made perfect sense, this being what it was. A little meaningless fun.

But as she sat in the middle of his big bed, the heat of their intimacy dissipated into the air around her, what had happened between them still fresh and tender in her mind—so good—she wanted to protect the memory of it. This night had been a gift to herself. And she didn’t want to risk the simple perfection of it being lessened by Jeff’s inevitable dismissal.

Chances were, he’d be as adept at a goodbye as he’d been with everything else. And yet rather than wait, she found herself pulling on her shirt. Dragging the sheet off the bed with her as she sifted through the blast radius of discarded clothing, darting glances at the bathroom door as the water continued to run.

She didn’t want to be the one clinging to their last minute together. The one waiting to be excused.

She’d known what she was getting with Jeff from the start. A few hours of fun. He’d made sure she understood back at the bar.

Another look at the clock.

It’s why he’d chosen her in the first place. Because he’d recognized she had the sense not to get ideas where they didn’t belong.

* * *

Jeff gripped the marble countertop, staring at his reflection as he tried pull himself together and figure out what to say.

Damn it, he always knew what to say. But he’d been off his game since about minute one with Darcy. Closing his mouth around a tongue inexplicably tied up over a girl he couldn’t quite figure out. And hadn’t had nearly enough of.

That’s where his head had been when he dragged himself out of bed, walked into the bathroom with the intent to clean up and then come back with an offer of...something.

Something more than the cursory “thanks for the great time, have a nice life” that generally came as standard with the kind of night they’d just indulged in.

He liked her. Liked the way she made him laugh and her unique perspective on—well, hell—everything. Sure she lived in Vegas, and this wasn’t exactly a typical stopover for him. But if she was receptive, he’d been thinking about making it one. Or better yet, swinging by to pick her up and bring her down to L.A. once in a while. For an overnight or maybe even a weekend.

That’s where his head had been until he looked down to discover the condom he’d been using had failed in a no-maybe-about-it kind of way.

Now? He was trying to figure out how to break the news to Darcy, rolling through the scenarios, imagining what he was going to see on her face when he told her. Accusation, fear, dread.

The idea he would cause her any of those things was like a blow to the gut. He wasn’t that guy. Not to anyone.

Not after Margo, his girlfriend through most of high school and college, and the woman he’d assumed, like everyone else, he would marry. At least until the day she’d come to him red-eyed and blotchy-cheeked with the confession she’d slept with another guy. She’d felt claustrophobic, trapped by all the expectations of their too serious, too neat, too well-planned relationship. She’d wanted out and, though a phone call would have been less traumatic to all involved, she’d found her escape in the bed of some frat guy with a coke habit.

As a result of that lesson, Jeff had all but perfected the no-hold relationship. He was a safe guy. A good time. The lover who always remained a friend after, because the romance never went too deep to come back from.

He kept his finger on the pulse of his affairs, making communication a priority. It was why he’d gotten his reputation as “Mr. Sensitive”—which was fine by him if it meant avoiding another blindside like the one he’d taken with Margo. Hell, yes, he’d talk about feelings. And the added benefit of that open dialogue? Nothing got too serious. No one got the wrong idea.

He was not the guy who put panic into someone’s eyes. But that’s what was about to happen. Because if ever there was a way to make a woman feel trapped, this was it.

Pulling it together, he reminded himself while this was the first time it had happened to him, it certainly wasn’t the first time a condom had broken in history. Both he and Darcy were adults who understood prophylactics weren’t 100 percent. Accidents happened. And this was an accepted risk inherent to sex.

They’d talk. He’d assure her he was compulsive about using protection and he was clean. She’d tell him that while she didn’t generally go home with guys she just met, she was on birth control and also clean. They’d exchange contact information and stay in touch.

But whatever fantasies Jeff had been entertaining about going forward with a casual relationship had pretty well shriveled under the icy splash of reality offered in the form of a blown-out rubber. And now all he was thinking was he’d be damn lucky to make a clean getaway.

Tightening the towel wrapped around his hips, he headed out of the bathroom and froze with one hand midrub at the back of his skull, his mouth open and all thoughts of what he’d been about to say gone—just like the woman he’d been inside of less than ten minutes before.

FIVE

Present day...

Moments later the bathroom door swung open and the mother of what was presumably his child emerged.

The cool steely gray of her eyes met with his. Eyes he remembered warming through the course of those hours they spent together. Eyes he’d watched go soft beneath him, and had made him wonder if a single night was going to be enough. Eyes that had haunted him for weeks after he’d been back in L.A., until he’d forced himself to put them out of his head. Get a new game plan and move on.

Which is exactly what he’d done.

Olivia.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave his head a stern shake. One thing at a time.

Darcy took a nervous breath and then cleared her throat. “So, maybe we should start by getting a few things straight up front.”

Jeff nodded, checking the legal pad he’d started making a list on. “Agreed.”

Validate paternity.

Confirm/upgrade health care.

Establish child support.

Hire nurse.

Buy house with yard and security.

Start screening for nanny.

Private preschools (*gifted and talented programs?).

Top five universities in country.

Quality playgroups.

Safety reports *family vehicles.

“I don’t want to marry you,” she said abruptly, wincing almost as soon as the words left her mouth.