* * *
The public boat launch was set on a cove a fifteen-minute drive away from the Bell Resort and Marina. Shaded by tall leafy trees, it consisted of little more than the launch ramp, a parking lot and a few picnic tables. The place was nearly deserted on this Monday afternoon in mid-June, though a couple of parked trucks with empty boat trailers attached indicated fishermen would return later. A dark gray sports car looked out of place among the pickup-and-trailer combos.
Parking her own sensible little sedan, Hannah glanced through the windshield at the dark-haired, dark-eyed man who was watching her gravely from one of the picnic tables. He sat backward on the bench, facing the parking lot, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Wearing a blue polo shirt and jeans, Andrew Walker looked casual and relaxed, as though he had nothing more on his mind than an appreciation of the warm, cloudless afternoon. Hannah knew that impression was deceptive.
It wasn’t their first time to meet alone here. They’d come here to talk when he’d worked for her family early last August, trying to help them clean up the mess her ex-husband—now known in the family as “the evil ex”—had deliberately created. It wasn’t easy finding privacy among her ever-present family at the resort, so she’d brought Andrew here one afternoon to discuss the case frankly, telling him things about her failed marriage she hadn’t confided even to her relatives. She’d ended up sobbing into his shoulder, a memory that still made her cringe with embarrassment, but he’d been so kind and understanding that she’d probably fallen a little in love with him that very afternoon. She’d done her best to hide her feelings for him—feelings she neither trusted nor expected to lead anywhere—until that momentous, wholly unexpected night in December.
She couldn’t keep procrastinating getting out of her car. She refused to look like a coward in front of Andrew, despite the nerves quivering inside of her. Chin held high, she opened her door and climbed out. She hadn’t gained much weight so far during her pregnancy. Her sister teased her that it looked as though she had a basketball tucked beneath her shirt because the rest of her body was pretty much unchanged. Giving one self-conscious tug to the peasant-styled yellow top she wore with drawstring white cotton pants, she walked toward Andrew.
He rose as she approached. To give him credit, his gaze focused on her face, not her tummy. He wore his dark coffee-colored hair short, neatly trimmed, brushed off his clean-shaven face. His eyes were almost black. His jaw was firm, his nose straight, lips beautifully shaped, though stern now. He was still the best-looking man she’d ever known—though of course, Aaron looked exactly like him with the exception of a longer hairstyle. Yet looking at Aaron that morning, she’d instantly decided Andrew was still the more handsome—a ridiculous fancy, even though she held that same belief now.
Bypassing a greeting, Andrew went straight to the question she had expected. “Why didn’t you call me?”
She cleared her throat, wishing she’d prepared herself somewhat better for this conversation. “What makes you think you’re—”
“Hannah—” he gave her a look “—don’t even think about it.”
She sighed in surrender. “Fine.”
She’d simply been stalling for time anyway. Even if she wanted to—which she didn’t—there was no way she’d convince Andrew he wasn’t the father of this baby. He could count on his fingers as well as any guy. And even though they’d spent only a few short weeks in each other’s company during the ten months since they’d met, he’d gotten to know her well enough that he would have no doubt that night with him had been an anomaly for her.
“Were you going to tell me?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon. I just—” She paused, then shrugged. “I didn’t know what to say.”
Both his voice and his expression softened in response to her helpless tone. “I can understand that.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and looked down at them, unable to meet Andrew’s eyes just then.
His hands were gentle when they fell on her shoulders, but still her pulse raced in response to his touch. “Are you okay? You haven’t had any problems?”
She shook her head. “I’m in perfect health. And so is the baby.”
His gaze lowered then, focusing on her middle. He cleared his throat. “Is it—do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“I’ll find out Friday.”
His eyes rose and she saw the emotions he’d concealed to this point. She had learned during their one night together that the rather stoic control Andrew usually displayed masked an intense, passionate nature. Memories of that passion made her catch her breath, her heart thudding hard against her chest. A muscle flexed in Andrew’s jaw
and the slightest tremor moved his fingers against her shoulders, making her suspect the same images were flashing through his mind. She felt her cheeks warm in a way that had nothing to do with the hot afternoon temperature.
Andrew dropped his hands a little too abruptly, shoving them into his pockets. By unspoken agreement, they both shifted to put another couple of inches between them.
“Have you told your family? About me?” he clarified.
She shook her head. “They have no idea. I never even told them I saw you in Dallas in December.”
“I see.”
So much of that fateful evening had hinged on impulse. She’d been in Dallas for an annual holiday gathering with some college friends, and had dropped by Andrew’s office with the excuse of giving him an update about her ex-husband’s sentencing—which he’d already known, having kept up with the case. He’d politely asked her to dinner and they’d had drinks at her hotel afterward. One thing had led to another, and then...
Automatically, she rested a hand on her stomach.
“I guess Aaron told you I was pregnant.” She’d known that was inevitable from the moment she’d seen Aaron with Shelby.