He almost said, I want you. He did. Desperately. But he had a bad feeling he knew what she’d say, what she’d make him admit—their kids had to come first right now. Richard had no idea how his seriously screwed-up son would respond to his dad suddenly having a sex life. A relationship. Oh, yeah, and with his pregnant girlfriend’s mother.
Richard hadn’t forgotten the way Cait had reacted the time she’d come home and found him alone there with her mother. The spoiled brat in her had come out. God knows, he thought, their lives were complicated enough right now, the way their kids had tangled them all into a knot.
No, he wouldn’t say anything that blunt, but he was damned if two selfish brats would make him wait indefinitely to go after the first woman he’d seriously wanted in years.
“We’ll work it out,” he said easily.
A choked laugh escaped her. “But not necessarily well.”
They’d reached their cars. He stopped her, taking her other hand, too, so she had to face him. He smiled, kissed her lightly, then not so lightly. They were both breathing raggedly. “I think it’ll go fine. I wish to hell it could right this minute,” he murmured.
Obviously not yet firing on all cylinders, she blinked bemusedly at him.
“Our time will come, Molly Callahan.”
She could have said, I’m not sure. Or stiffened and stepped back with a Maybe. Or even a suspicious, Time for exactly what? And, Do you plan to use a condom? She didn’t say any of those things. She gave him an astonishingly sweet smile. “Okay,” was all she said.
And, damn, his body surged at the sight of that smile. His fingers tightened on hers. He groaned.
Molly grinned. “Go back to work,” she said, then pecked him on the cheek and got in her car.
Leaving him with an aching erection and absolute faith that he would soon see every magnificent inch of her body bared. He would be able to touch and stroke and knead, kiss and suckle and lick.
He planted his hands on the side of his van, bent his head and groaned again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CAIT CHOSE THE BREAKFAST table for her great announcement. Filling her travel mug with coffee, Molly had just looked down and noticed, to her exasperation, that she’d slipped on navy-colored flats even though she wore black slacks. They probably weren’t that noticeable—but it would bug her all day. She’d want to hide behind her desk instead of getting out in the halls and classrooms. And, oh, heavens, she had that meeting about possible revisions in the plan for snow days.
“I’m not getting an abortion.”
There’d been such confusion with the first snowfall, all of two inches, with some buses completing full routes and others…
She turned in slow motion to stare at her daughter, who sat at the table with a bowl of cereal, as yet untouched.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
So many emotions rose in her, contradictory, painful and joyous, she choked. Was barely able to speak. “Cait…”
The slightly pointy chin set defiantly. “You said it was up to me.”
“Yes, but… Do you really understand what this will mean for you?” Molly shut her eyes for a moment. “Did you have to pick the worst time for us to talk about this? I can’t be late today.”
“There’s nothing to say.” Her hair fell forward, hiding her face as she bent over her cereal. “I’ll tell Trevor.”
Molly couldn’t seem to move. “Oh, honey.”
Cait looked again at her mother. Her eyes burned with some inner light. “I can’t do it, okay? I just can’t. Even if it means…I don’t know what.”
“I don’t know what, either. That’s the part we need to talk out, you know.”
“Yeah. Okay. I guess.” She grabbed a napkin and dabbed carefully beneath her eyes. “You know your shoes don’t go?” she said, sniffing.
Molly sighed. “I just noticed. Let me change and then we’d better get moving. If you want a ride.”
“It’s cold. I don’t want to walk.”
That, apparently, was that. Cait didn’t want to talk any more about it during the short drive to the high school. Molly’s thoughts were all but turning backflips. Had she somehow influenced Cait to decide against abortion, which—now, be honest with yourself—was really the most sensible decision for a girl her age? Was it really any better that her daughter was going to bear a child and give it away? And what about the practicalities in the meantime? Cait should be able to make it through first semester without her pregnancy being noticeable. She was unlikely to show at all before, say, mid-January at the soonest. She could keep dancing until then, too. But then what? Alternative school? Could I homeschool her? Molly asked herself wildly. Do we need or want to hide her pregnancy from the world? Is it really anything to be ashamed of?