And Baby Makes Six. Linda Markowiak

Ice-cold mud seeped through his jeans.

      Slowly, Crystal’s wailing tapered off into silence.

      Mitch got to his feet. The dog jumped up, planting a couple of muddy paws on the front of his jacket. “Down!” Mitch said, and the dog—reacting to the no-nonsense tone—obeyed. “Sit.” A quivering sit. “Jason, come get this dog!”

      Jason untangled himself from the other boys and grabbed Face-off by the collar. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he said quietly. “I thought I had him locked in the laundry room, but the door doesn’t work too well since Tommy broke it last week.”

      “We’ll talk about this later,” Mitch said. He turned to look at Crystal who was sobbing quietly. “You guys are going to have to do better. She’s not used to boys. She’s a little girl, and she’s just lost her mom. Don’t you remember how that felt?”

      “I remember,” Jason said in an even quieter tone, and suddenly all the anger left Mitch. He walked over to Crystal and picked her up. She felt skinny, warm and fragile, and her hair spilled over his arms.

      Despite the mud, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed in earnest. “Jewels is lost.”

      “No, she isn’t. She’s just hiding, because she doesn’t understand that Face-off only wants to play. Listen, we’ll lock up Face-off better this time, and put a bowl of milk on the stoop, and Jules will come home. I promise.”

      There was a pause. “I hate your dog,” she finally sobbed.

      She might as well have said, I hate you. I hate your family. I hate that you’ve brought me here.

      Mitch held her tightly. He was still breathing hard from chasing the dog, but that didn’t explain the peculiar ache in his chest.

      CHAPTER TWO

      TWO WEEKS LATER, what was left of Jenny Litton’s world fell apart.

      She stood at the sink in the ladies’ room at Kyle Development and pressed a cool, wet paper towel to her cheek. That helped some. A moment before, she’d been in the toilet stall with dry heaves, and her whole face was flushed. She swallowed, trying to quell the nausea. As the manager of the real-estate development company, she had no time to be sick.

      Perspiration was beaded on her upper lip and she dabbed there, too. Then she wadded the paper towel and took out her lipstick. She smeared Plantation Rose across her lips with a hand that quivered slightly.

      Giving in to a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the glass of the mirror. Cool and smooth, it felt comforting. She opened her eyes and stared at her own face a fraction of an inch away. Apart from the redness in her cheeks, she looked much the same. Her makeup understated and carefully blended, her silver-blond hair well cut and turned under at the ends. Small studs in her ears. Nothing flashy for Jenny Litton. Nobody from here to Savannah would ever accuse her of flash.

      But even as she looked at her own reflection, even as she should have felt satisfaction at that last thought, her eyes filled with tears.

      Sad tears, because she missed Kathy. Kathy had been her best friend, the only one who’d known about the baby. And she missed Crystal. She’d talked to the little girl every night by telephone. Crystal didn’t have too much to say, and the words unsaid bothered Jenny a lot.

      She straightened, wishing she hadn’t let Crystal go with Mitch Oliver, even though Jenny’s lawyer had insisted it was the only thing she could do. You don’t have a case. You’ll hurt the child more if you fight for her—let her think she’s going to stay—and then lose her anyway. If Kathy really hadn’t wanted Mitch Oliver to be Crystal’s guardian, she would have changed her will. The lawyer had reminded Jenny—as if she’d needed any reminders—that she had enough to worry about in her own life.

      Jenny’s stomach gave another quick heave, and she pressed a hand to it. At any moment one of the other women who worked at Kyle Development might walk through that door, and it wouldn’t do for the polished-up and buttoned-down Jenny Litton to be standing in front of a mirror watching herself cry.

      She pasted on a smile and headed out the door.

      “Oh, there you are.” Her secretary, Yvonne Rolland, looked up from her desk as Jenny passed. “It’s eight o’clock. I thought maybe you weren’t in yet. That would be strange, non?” Yvonne had a French mother and was given to sprinkling in a little of the language.

      Jenny nodded, taking a stack of mail Yvonne handed her, wondering when Yvonne would notice how much time she was spending in the ladies’ room. In a few weeks it wouldn’t matter anyway; everyone would know her secret.

      She’d told Kathy. Kathy, I’m pregnant and I’m scared. Delane doesn’t want the baby. Kathy had looked shocked for less than a second and then she’d hugged her friend. Well, I never thought this would happen to you. Okay, I know how much you loved Delane. It’s going to be tough seeing him at the office, but you’ll be okay. Women have babies on their own these days.

      Well, maybe other women made those kinds of mistakes, but Jennifer Litton didn’t, and the shame of it washed over her.

      She’d slept with her boss.

      She bit her lip, took a few steps away and pretended to sort through her mail. As office manager, Jenny supervised a relatively small staff—just a couple of secretaries, the payroll clerk and the eight-person sales crew that sold upscale properties in Hilton Head. Her co-workers knew she’d broken up with Delane a month ago, but not why.

      “Uh, Jenny?” Yvonne hesitated, then said, “I thought you’d like to know. Delane is back in town. He’s coming by the office today at ten. He wants to have a meeting with everyone. It’s important, he said. You’ll need to be there, too.”

      She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. Not today, she thought.

      “I’m sorry,” her secretary said softly.

      “It’s all right.” She’d fallen out of love with Delane Kyle for good the day he’d offered to pay for an abortion, but not offered to take any responsibility for their baby. Reflexively, she put a light hand on her belly. Don’t worry, baby, I want you very, very much.

      “Well, I’m glad you’re not mooning over him. I know it’ll be awkward.” Yvonne averted her eyes.

      Jenny put her chin up. “I can handle it.” She’d known that if she kept her job at Kyle Development, she’d certainly see Delane from time to time.

      She wanted more than anything to turn tail and run, to go someplace where nobody would ever need to know about the circumstances of her pregnancy.

      But she was hanging on to her job. Overseeing the Hilton Head office was a respectable job, one with good pay and benefits. Benefits the baby would need.

      Besides, she wasn’t the only one who ought to be ashamed. Let Delane Kyle feel the good hot scald of it. Let him watch her belly grow and go home and try to sleep at night!

      The thought of his discomfort gave her some satisfaction, and by the time she and her co-workers gathered in the large conference room, Jenny felt more in control.

      “Wonder what’s up?” That was Rick Caldwell, one of Kyle’s best salespeople. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took his seat at the shiny conference table facing Jenny. “I mean besides the obvious.”

      Sales of the expensive condominiums ringing Hilton Head’s newest golf course had hit a bit of a snag.

      Rick stroked his mustache. “I can’t understand it. The economy’s good, and the population’s aging and playing more golf. Hilton Head’s been overbuilt, but hell, when hasn’t it been?”

      No one answered. People stirred their coffee or shuffled papers. Jenny finally spoke up. “Things will work out. I really think this slump is just a hiccup.”

      Rick gave her a thumbs-up. “Yeah,