The Baby Agenda. Janice Johnson Kay

      Now where had that come from? It was true, every word of it, but he didn’t think he’d ever spoken the words aloud. God help him, that’s what his life had been like since the day he’d taken the phone call in his college dorm telling him his parents were dead. He hadn’t known what he wanted to do with his life yet, but it wasn’t going to be construction. He’d worked summers for his dad for the past five years, and that was enough.

      Until all choice had been yanked from him when he realized his brothers and sister had no one else.

      He couldn’t regret the decisions he’d made then. He loved Clay, Jack and Sophie. But these past couple weeks, knowing the end was in sight, he’d felt like a kid who’d suffered through his school years looking toward high school graduation.

      Free at last.

      He felt Moira’s scrutiny. Finally she nodded, but said softly, “Life’s made up of obligations, though, isn’t it?”

      “But we ought to be able to choose the ones we take on, don’t you think?”

      Her head tilted, reminding him of a curious bird. Perhaps the owl he’d likened her to earlier, with downy, unruly feathers around the enormous, unblinking eyes.

      With that tilt of the head, enough light touched her face that he thought, green. Her eyes were green.

      “Yes,” she said. “I’m a big fan of free choice.” Her fingers wriggled in his, and she glanced down in apparent puzzlement.

      So she’d finally noticed that they had been holding hands for the past ten minutes. Although reluctant, he released hers.

      “If you’ll excuse me, my feet are killing me and I think I had too much to drink. I’m about to conk out.”

      “You’re not planning to drive, are you?”

      She shook her head. “I think I’ll get a room.”

      Will smiled at her. “I’ll walk you down.”

      “You don’t have to—”

      “It would be my pleasure,” he said with a formality unusual to him.

      After a moment, she murmured, “Then, thank you.” She started toward the open doors, and he strolled at her side.

      When they reached the ballroom, he could hardly tear his eyes from her face. She was indeed pretty, but in a way that contrasted with her curvaceous, seductive body. Her cheeks were round, her forehead high, giving her an unexpected look of vulnerability, and her milk-pale skin was dusted with pale gold freckles. Her eyes were green, but flecked with gold, too. And her eyebrows, like the hair on her head, were the pure color of copper.

      She looked…innocent, which made him feel guilty for wondering if the rest of her body was freckled, too, if the nipples crowning her generous breasts were pink or dusky brown, whether her pubic hair was copper bright, too.

      He almost groaned. Yes, of course it was. And, damn it, he had no business thinking this way when he couldn’t start anything with her. He was tying up the last strands of this part of his life, not opening any new packages. However enticing this one was.

      Moira greeted a couple of people, and he did the same. They even had a few mutual acquaintances, none of whom seemed to think anything of the fact that they knew each other. He wondered what she did for a living, but decided he didn’t want to know. He’d prefer to remember her as his mysterious redhead.

      Then she stiffened. Raising his eyebrows, Will saw the couple directly in front of them. Good-looking guy, beautiful woman if you liked hip bones sharp enough to draw blood and thought counting ribs was an excellent postcoital activity.

      The scumbag, clearly, and Graziella. Feeling Moira’s tension, Will wasn’t nearly as amused as he’d been when she last said the name.

      “Bruce,” she said coolly.

      Some instinct made Will lay his hand on Moira’s back in a way any other man would recognize. Mine. He nodded, making plain his disinterest, and steered her around the other couple.

      “Aren’t you Will Becker?” the other guy said.

      Will nodded. “Yes.” And kept going.

      Moira gave another of those little gurgles of laughter that sounded like a small brook tumbling over rocks.

      “Well, that was rude.”

      “Yeah, and I enjoyed it,” he said truthfully.

      She turned that laughing face up to him, her eyes sparkling, and said, “Thank you.”

      “You’re very welcome.” He kept his hand on her until they reached the front desk, at which point he stood back and let her take a credit card from the small, sparkly bag she’d carried over her shoulder. When eventually she turned around, he asked, “All set?”

      “Yes. You don’t have to walk me up, Will.”

      “Yes, I do.”

      She bit her lip and studied him for a moment, her eyes curiously vulnerable in a way that gave him a pang.

      Twice now he’d thought of her as such, which had to mean something.

      He knew what that something was. His gut was telling him to say good-night to her outside her hotel room door and leave. Don’t kiss her. Don’t step over the threshold. She wasn’t a one-night stand kind of woman, and he wasn’t interested in anything but.

      Moira nodded and let him walk beside her to the elevators. One opened as soon as she pushed the button, and they rode upward in silence, side by side. He heard the soft sigh of a breath from her, caught an elusive scent that seemed old-fashioned. He had a flash of standing on the deep front porch of his family home, the sky purple with twilight, and that scent filling his nostrils.

      Lilac.

      The elevator opened and he said, “What’s your room number?”

      She stumbled, stepping out, and he wrapped a hand around her arm to catch her. “Um…” She looked at the small folder she held. “Two-eighteen.”

      Will nodded and directed her to the right. The hall was broad, the plush charcoal-gray carpet inset with maroon. He stopped in front of 218 and watched as she fumbled with the card, finally getting it into the slot correctly and turning the knob when the green light flashed.

      “I should say good-night now,” he said hoarsely.

      Holding the door open, she met his eyes. “Did you mean it, when you said…” She seemed to lose courage.

      “Said…?” His heart was hammering.

      She whispered, “That you think I’m beautiful.”

      “I meant it.” He lifted a hand, hesitated, then only grazed her round, plush cheek with his knuckles. “You are.”

      Her tongue touched her lips; she took a deep breath. “Then will you stay?”

      CHAPTER TWO

      STUNNED PLEASURE BLOSSOMED inside him like the warmth from good whiskey.

      “You’re sure?” Will asked.

      Had she really invited him in? Could he get this lucky?

      But already Moira’s eyes had widened, as if she’d shocked herself, and her face flushed. Even so, she mumbled, “I think so.”

      Despite the rising tide of hunger, he found himself smiling. “That wasn’t the strongest yes I’ve ever heard.”

      Now her gaze was shy. “I haven’t done this in an awfully long time.”

      His every instinct was to kiss her and keep kissing her until she was past any second thoughts. Damn, he hadn’t had sex in…it had to be a year, since he’d parted ways with Julia. But as desperate as he felt, Will wasn’t willing to risk making love