Beginning with Their Baby. Tracy Wolff

a man who had always prided himself on his ability to make order from chaos and control any situation, the realization didn’t sit well. Any more than did the idea that Camille could—and probably would—get restless feet sometime in the next six months.

      Because the idea of her taking off with his baby still inside of her made him feel vaguely ill, he tried to find something else to concentrate on. But the magazines were all geared toward women and he really wasn’t interested in garnering the latest fashion tips.

      Picking up a baby magazine, he flipped it open to an article discussing sudden infant death syndrome—and dropped it so quickly that he gave himself a paper cut. How many things was he supposed to worry about at one time, anyway? Wasn’t there enough to focus on during a pregnancy without borrowing trouble from after the birth?

      He ended up tapping his feet nervously, counting down the seconds until he could get back to Camille. Rick had laughed at his concern that something was wrong with the baby, but he was the one who’d used the word viable. How was a guy supposed to relax with that hanging over his head? He’d finally wrapped his mind around the idea that Camille was pregnant, and now suddenly, Rick was telling him that it might not last?

      What kind of doctor did that? What kind of friend spooked him like that, and then left him cooling his jets in the waiting room? The next time he had Rick on a baseball field, he was going to make the man—

      “Mr. Jenkins?” A nurse called his name from the doorway, and he shot out of his chair like a puppet on a very short string. “You can come back now.”

      Thank God. If he’d had to wait much longer, he might have stroked out right in the middle of his good friend’s waiting room.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      “DO YOU WANT TO GET SOME lunch?” Matt asked as they drove back toward her motel room.

      “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.” Camille’s mind was going in circles, her head throbbing, and all she could think about was the image she had just seen on the sonogram screen. Tiny, so tiny that she’d had to squint to see it, but there all the same. A baby. A new life, snuggled into her uterus where it belonged, with its little heart beating up a storm. A completely viable pregnancy, Rick had announced with a wide grin. The baby looked perfect.

      Her baby. Matt’s baby. She didn’t know what to think, how to feel. In twenty-eight weeks she was going to be a mother and she had no idea what that meant. It wasn’t as if she’d had a good example growing up—or any example really. Just— She slammed the door on the memories, refusing to bring them out right then, not when it was all she could do to just sit quietly in the car as Matt went over everything Rick had told them.

      “You need to eat, Camille. You heard Rick—you’re healthy, but you need to gain a few pounds to help support the baby.”

      “I heard him. But I had breakfast less than two hours ago—how much do you expect me to eat?”

      “Well, at least let me pick you up something before I drop you back at the motel.” He glanced at the clock. “I have a meeting in a little over an hour, so I need to head back to work. But I’ve got your vitamin prescription—I’ll drop it off at the pharmacy on my way to the office and pick it up at the end of the day.”

      “There’s no rush. Rick gave me enough samples to last for two months or so.”

      “Still, it’s better to have them on hand for when you need them. Also, I thought maybe you’d like to go to an art store tonight or tomorrow? Maybe you could look around a little, find an alternative to the oil paints that won’t hurt the baby. Rick said—”

      She gritted her teeth and tried not to scream, but it wasn’t easy—not when Matt seemed intent on taking over every aspect of her life. If she heard Rick said one more time, she was going to forget that she was a pacifist and take a swing at Matt. “It’s no big deal.”

      “Of course it is. The fumes can—”

      “It’s not like I’m planning on busting out the canvas today. The art supply store can wait a little while—as can lunch.”

      “But, Camille, you need—”

      “I know what I need! I’m a grown woman who’s been taking care of herself for most of her life. I have a rental car, I have a motel room. I have an ATM card and a relatively healthy checking account. When I’m hungry, I’ll eat. When I’m ready to paint, I’ll figure out what I want to use. And when I need more vitamins, I will go get them. So lay off, okay?”

      Matt’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click and for a few minutes blessed silence reigned in the car. Laying her head back against the headrest, Camille closed her eyes and tried to drift off. She was so tired—she couldn’t remember ever being this tired. And Matt’s constant nagging about what she needed to do and eat and think was only making her more exhausted.

      She knew he was a planner, knew he liked to map things out far in advance as opposed to flying by the seat of his pants, as she was wont to do. But this was too much, even for him. He was borrowing trouble where there wasn’t any, trying to fix something that wasn’t broken. And it was driving her insane.

      Still, when he pulled up in front of her motel, she couldn’t help feeling a little bad for snapping at him. In his own way he was only trying to help—it wasn’t his fault that all his plans were slowly freaking her out. How could he know that all she wanted was blessed silence and a chance to assimilate all the ideas currently running rampant in her head? She’d never told him.

      Turning to him with a sigh, Camille laid a light hand over his, where it rested on the steering wheel. “Look, Matt, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I just—”

      “It’s okay.”

      “You were just trying to help and I totally blew up. I’m sorry.”

      When he finally turned his head, it was with a contrite grin. “Nothing to be sorry about. I keep talking about this pregnancy, but forget the most basic stuff. Like how tired you’re supposed to be in the first trimester—even without the jet-lag. Go get some sleep and I’ll call to check on you in a few hours.”

      She searched his face for a minute, but found no sign of upset—just a rueful resignation that all was not going to go according to his master plan. Of course, now that she’d gotten her way, she couldn’t help thinking that it was kind of sweet, how much interest Matt was taking in her and her pregnancy. A lot of guys would have been horrified to have an ex-girlfriend drop in, pregnant and unannounced. Matt had simply absorbed the news and then started making decisions that he thought would keep the baby healthy and safe.

      He was a stand-up guy, and though she hadn’t planned this pregnancy, she could have done a lot worse for the father of her baby. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

      Matt froze for a second, then turned so that his lips brushed against hers. Once, twice, so softly that it felt like a feather whispering over her mouth. And yet his touch reawakened something inside of her, a need for him that she’d sublimated but that had never really gone away.

      Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, until his mouth fit fully over hers. Then she sucked his lower lip between her teeth and nibbled on it, in the way she knew he loved.

      He groaned, yanked her across his gearshift, and pressed her against him so that her breasts were flush with his chest, her legs straddling his as the steering wheel bit into her back.

      But she didn’t care, the pain barely registering as his lips raced across her cheek and down her neck to the pulse point at the hollow of her throat. She moaned, let her head fall back while he licked at her favorite erogenous zone. Heat raced up her spine, her fingers tangling in Matt’s hair as she started moving anxiously above him. Against him.

      He felt so good, made her feel so good, that she couldn’t help wanting to forget the nearly three months that stretched between them. Couldn’t help wanting to take this attraction as far as she could