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  “Oh, yes. We had a housekeeper. She was very efficient, a good cook, and she cleaned beautifully. Unfortunately, at the time I couldn’t bear the thought of food and I could have cared less about a clean house. What I wanted was my mother.”

  He could understand it. He remembered being sick himself, having his mother sit with him, read to him, dote on him. There had been times when he had actually welcomed a cold, just to have that time alone with her. It had been very special, something he would always remember.

  Thinking of the very different experience Danica had had, he had to struggle to curb his anger. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

  She flashed him a sad smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know, but you’re right. A mother should be there. I’m sorry you had to weather the storm alone.”

  “Well, I suppose it was good training. I got used to it, even though I always wished things were different. They will be for my child, that’s for sure.” She sighed. “Which brings us back to what I was saying. Among other things, my mother told me to stay put in Boston. She thinks I’m crazy to be coming up here.”

  “How did you answer that?”

  “I wanted to say that it was none of her business, that she had no right to tell me what to do at this late date.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No. In her own rather bizarre way, she does love me. I’m sure she’s legitimately concerned, and I suppose I should be grateful after so many years of going without. I told her that the doctor recommended fresh air and exercise. I also told her that I wanted the baby very badly and that she’d have to trust that I wouldn’t do anything to endanger its health.”

  “How about Blake? Does he have any second thoughts about your being alone up here now?”

  “Blake echoed Mom’s sentiments after I’d hung up, but I don’t think he’s really worried. I’m not an invalid, for heaven’s sake.”

  “I can understand his concern. You are alone here.”

  “I have you,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

  He returned the look, though his own teasing was strictly on the surface. “True.…Is this new?” He fingered the gold necklace at her neck; it was a delicate serpentine chain with a diamond embedded at its center. Of course, her skin fascinated him even more, warm and soft where his fingers brushed it.

  “Blake gave it to me on Saturday. He felt the occasion called for something.” Blake was very good at that, very proper. As forgetful as he was when it came to his family in Detroit, he had a set image in his mind of how he should treat his wife. There was jewelry on each anniversary, a fur or other piece of expensive clothing on each birthday, a bouquet of flowers on Valentine’s Day. Of course, Danica would have been just as happy with a quiet dinner for the two of them on any of those occasions, but she was never consulted.

  “Not bad,” Michael mused.

  “Not necessary,” she argued.

  He accepted her curtness as a statement in itself, and leaned back. “Funny, you don’t look pregnant.” Given good excuse, he raked her length, admiring the firm thrust of her small breasts, the slimness of her waist and hips, the shapeliness of her legs.

  “Thank goodness. If I looked pregnant at this early stage, just imagine how I’ll look six months down the road.”

  “You’ll look wonderful.” He met her gaze without hesitation. “You’ll be a beautiful mother.”

  She smiled, feeling self-conscious but pleased that Michael had thought to say such words. “Thank you. You’re good for my ego.”

  “Blake doesn’t say things like that?”

  “Oh, he does. But he’s big on physical fitness and I’m going to be pretty fat in a while.” It had occurred to her that Blake might not be terribly attracted to a whale, but then he didn’t seem to be terribly attracted to her now. She sensed he would use her pregnancy to keep his distance, sensed he would probably be relieved to have the excuse. When she had not so subtly informed him that the doctor hadn’t ruled out any activity, he had simply nodded.

  “Pregnant women have an aura about them,” Michael said softly. “They glow from within. My sister-in-law says that she loves being pregnant, that she feels she’s doing what God intended, that she’s always proud as punch of her belly.”

  Danica grinned. “No wonder she and Brice have five kids.”

  “They should. They’re wonderful parents. Brice may work with my father, but before he agreed to do it, he set down certain rules. He wants to be home most nights and weekends, and he is.”

  “Your father accepted that?”

  “He had no choice. The options were either that or have none of his children there to take over when he decides to retire. He may be a tyrant, but he does love us. I guess he’s finally accepted that we’re adults.”

  “I wish my parents could do that,” she mused.

  “It took a while, Dani, and lots of fights. In Brice’s case, he knew what he wanted and he stood firm. Some day you’ll be able to do that.”

  Michael’s words echoed in Danica’s mind long after she and Michael had gone their separate ways that night. She wondered if the day would come when she would have the courage she sought. She was proud that she had stuck to her guns about spending the summer in Maine; it was a step in the right direction. Then again, perhaps it had been a matter of options after all. The alternative to being in Maine had simply become unacceptable to her; hence she’d held her ground. Perhaps in the future other choices would be as clear-cut. Now that she was expecting a child, the issue of working was temporarily on hold. She prayed that once she was a mother herself, she would find the strength to stand up for other things, to put her father’s approval in perspective, to make the best decisions for herself and her child.

  Her child. Not Blake’s. Strange that she should think of it that way. Strange, and sad, but realistic. If Blake was going to prove to be the same kind of father her own had been, she would just have to be that much more attentive a mother. That was something to which she was fully committed.

  “Danica, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Well, you could fall or be hit by a passing car. The roads around here are pretty rutted at spots.”

  “Come on, Michael. You were so excited last week. You agreed yourself that it’d be good exercise.”

  “That was before your pregnancy was confirmed.”

  “And the doctor wants me to exercise.”

  “So dance.” He had dropped by her house unannounced one day and had caught her in leotard and tights. Shyly she explained what she was doing, and though she had staunchly refused to give him a demonstration, he knew that in action she would be as graceful as a prima ballerina. As it was, he couldn’t shake the image of how gorgeous she looked with her hair stuck behind her ears and the finest sheen of moisture on her skin.

  “I do dance, but I want to be outside. You bike all the time. Are the roads too rutted for you?”

  “I’m a man.”

  “You’re a chauvinist.” Strangely, though, she wasn’t angry. Similar words coming from Blake would have riled her. She would have felt he was being condescending. There was none of that feeling with Michael. Rather, he seemed to be genuinely concerned for her well-being.

  She waved toward the young man who worked at the bike store, then turned a bright smile on Michael. “I’ve made up my mind. Now, is this the right one, or do you think the blue one would be better?”

  “Red. By all means. You’ll be more visible.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “For safety’s sake, Dani. Please. And you have to get a helmet and a reflective vest.”

  “I hadn’t planned on riding at night.”

  “Indulge me,” he pleaded with a sigh.

  It did the trick. She bought the best helmet the store carried, a reflective vest that she doubted she would ever wear, and a T-shirt with the name of the bicycle she had bought emblazoned on its front. The last she pur
chased with glee, finding as much pleasure in Michael’s heavenward glance as in the prospect of wearing the shirt itself. In truth, Michael savored her glee nearly as much as he looked forward to biking with her.

  Little did he know what the sight of her riding directly ahead of him would do. Her lithe body, bowed against the wind, hands propped low on the handlebars, firm bottom rocking gently from side to side as she pedaled, shook him. More than once he missed a rut in the road himself and nearly fell. It was sweet, sweet torture.

  He had no way of knowing that the torture wasn’t one-sided. Danica was as aware of him when they rode together, of the way his shoulders bunched when he leaned forward, of the way the veins in his forearms stood out, of the way his skin-tight pants molded his muscled thighs to perfection. She was grateful that she most often rode ahead where she didn’t have to be constantly tempted. And she was grateful, in wholly new ways as the week passed, that she was pregnant.

  It was too easy to pretend that she and Michael were together in every sense of the word. The fetus within her was a reminder of the man who had sired it. And Lord knew she needed reminders. In the six days since she had left Boston, Blake hadn’t called once.

  On Sunday evening she phoned home only to learn from Mrs. Hannah that Blake was in Toronto and was expected back the following day. She was hurt to learn this from the housekeeper and embarrassed when Mrs. Hannah had seemed surprised that she hadn’t known. Covering as best she could, she hung up the phone and stewed.

  Fortunately, Michael was working all day Monday; otherwise she feared he would sense her mood and that, with little coaxing, she would spill her marital woes in his lap. Instinct told her not to do that. Instinct and loyalty to Blake.

  When Blake did call on Monday night, she couldn’t hide her frustration. “I didn’t know you were going to Toronto.”

  “I thought I mentioned it.”

  “No. And I felt like a fool learning it from Mrs. Hannah. She must have some great idea of how close we are.”

  “She’s the housekeeper. It’s not her place to pass judgment. Besides, she and Marcus have been with me for more than ten years. She knows that I travel a lot.”

  He had deftly avoided the issue, Danica mused. “Still, I’m your wife,” she argued quietly. “I should have known.”

  “At the time I found out, I wasn’t sure you’d be in.”

  “You could have had your secretary call and give me the message. Would that have been so difficult?”

  “Honestly, Danica, you’re making too much of this. It was a last-minute trip.”

  “It’s always a last-minute trip.”

  “You know that it’s business.”

  “It’s always business,” she murmured, but she was beginning to feel like a shrew. Determinedly she gentled her voice. “When will it be pleasure, Blake? I’d really like you to come up. In another two weeks you’ll be off to St. Louis for the convention. Won’t I see you before then?”

  There was a pause and a shuffling of papers in the background. “I could try to make it this weekend.”

  She had the strangest feeling that she was being shuffled along with the papers, categorized, slotted, finally and reluctantly squeezed into her husband’s tight schedule. It wasn’t the nicest of feelings. For that matter, though, it wasn’t totally new.

  “I’d like that,” she said in an even tone.

  “I’ll have to do some work while I’m there,” he cautioned.

  “Of course. I understand.”

  “Okay. Then I’ll plan on it. Saturday and Sunday.”

  Friday through Sunday was too much to ask. “Great. I’ll see you then?”

  He confirmed it once more and neatly wound up the conversation. Only after she hung up the phone did Danica realize that he hadn’t even asked if she felt well.

  Michael was exactly what she needed when he breezed in excitedly the next morning. “Are you busy?”

  She cast a glance back at the kitchen table where she’d been seated before the doorbell had rung. “Just writing a letter.” To Reggie at the hotel where her itinerary said she would be staying.

  “Can it wait?”

  “Sure. What’s—Michael, I’m not dressed!” He had her arm and was propelling her through the door.

  “What do you mean, you’re not dressed?” He darted a look—darting was all he dared allow himself—at her T-shirt and cutoffs. “You look great!”

  “But these shorts are too tight.”

  He did take a look then and grinned. “They’re fantastic. You’re as slim as ever.”

  She blushed. “I washed them so many times to make them look faded that they shrank more than I expected they would.” He couldn’t see that the snap was undone since it was hidden beneath her shirt, but she felt uncomfortable. “Give me a second.” Dashing back into the house before he could object, she quickly changed into a more comfortable pair of pleated shorts and a stylish jersey. “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked with a smile as she rejoined him on the front walk.

  He was smiling, too. “You’ll see.”

  Throughout the fifteen-minute drive she tried repeatedly to wheedle their destination from him, but he was clearly enjoying his secret. He was excited about something, and she sensed it went beyond the mere fact of the mystery.

  When he pulled into the drive of an old Victorian house in Wells, she was no closer to an answer. When a large Labrador retriever bounded out to greet them, she was still stumped. Moments later, though, after they shook hands with a gentle-faced woman who led them to the rear of the house, she understood. There in the backyard, toddling round and about two tow-headed children, were four of the sweetest strawberry-blond puppies she had ever seen.

  “Michael,” Danica breathed, “look at them.”

  “I am. I am. Are they wonderful?”

  “Oh, yes.” Slipping to her knees beside the children, she reached out to touch the small, trembling body of one of the puppies. “Are these yours?” she asked the child nearest her, a little girl, who, though shy, managed to nod. “How old are they?”

  “Six weeks,” her brother answered, clearly the older and bolder of the two. “My mom says it’s time to find homes for them. We’re keeping one, though.”

  “Jasper,” the little girl murmured.

  Danica leaned closer to her. “Jasper?”

  “That one.” The child pointed to one of the puppies, amazing Danica with her ability to differentiate one tawny bundle from the next.

  “He’s a sweetheart,” Danica said. “You’ve made a good choice.”

  “What about you?” Michael asked with soft excitement, coming to squat by Danica’s side. “Any preference?”

  “They’re all precious, Michael. I couldn’t possibly choose between them, much less tell them apart.” The last was muttered out of the corner of her mouth, lest she offend the children.

  “Well, I can.” Leaning forward, Michael scooped up one of the puppies and held him at eye level. “This is the one I want.”

  “How do you know?”

  He shrugged. “Instinct. Something tells me he’ll love to run along the beach when he gets bigger.” He winked at Danica, then turned to the children. “Does this one have a name?”

  “Magpie,” the little girl announced in a wispy voice that trembled. Large, sad eyes darted from the puppy to Michael and back.

  Michael knelt again, shifting the puppy to lie snugly on his arm. “Magpie,” he repeated in a gentle tone. “That’s an unusual name for a dog.”

  The little girl thrust out her chin. It trembled, too. “I have a doll named Magpie.”

  “You do?”

  “And a duck,” her brother injected with a hint of disgust.

  “He’s stuffed,” the little girl added, ignoring her brother.

  “Ahhhhh. So you like the name Magpie.”

  The child nodded with such solemnity that Michael had to force himself not to grin. He sensed she wasn’t looking forward to parting with any one of the dogs.


  Settling down on the lawn cross-legged before her, he rested his elbows on his knees and spoke softly, confidentially. “I have a favorite name, too. Y’ see, when I was a little boy, I had this monkey.” When the child’s eyes widened, he quickly explained. “Not a real one. I don’t think my mother would have cared for that. This one was like your duck. I called him Rusty because of his color.”

  The little girl thought about that for a minute. “Rusty’s a nice name,” she said at last. “What happened to him?”

  “He was my best friend for years. After a while he got so worn-looking that my mom started patching him up.”

  “Then what happened.”

  “After a while you couldn’t really tell he was a monkey anymore. Y’ know what he looked like?” The child shook her head. Michael lowered his voice even more. “He looked like a puppy. At least that’s what I thought, but maybe that was because I wanted a puppy so badly.”

  “Did you ever get one?”

  “Yup. I loved him to pieces, too. But now I’m grown up and I live by myself, and I could really use a dog to keep me company.” He gently scratched the warm ears of the puppy on his arm. “Do you think this little fellow would do that?”

  The little girl gave a one-shouldered shrug. Her lip began to quiver.

  “What if I promised to bring him back to see you from time to time?”

  Again the child gave his question thought, finally whispering with the most tentative of hopes, “Would you do that?”

  “If you’d like. That way you’d know he’s happy and well.”

  Danica felt her throat grow tight. She had never seen Michael with a child before, but he was wonderful. He was attuned to the little girl’s sadness and, without patronizing her in any way, had managed to ease it somewhat. It was but another thing to add to the list of qualities she admired in the man.

  An hour later, with the back of the Blazer loaded with puppy supplies and the object of their use lying asleep in Danica’s lap, she mentioned it. “You were terrific with that little girl, Michael.”

  “It was easy. She was sweet.”

  “Still, you handled her well.…Did you really have a monkey named Rusty?”