The Tender Trap

“It sounds like you don’t know Blythe Elliott very well if you think you can bulldoze right over her,” Craig said. “She’s not the type to take orders, especially from a man.”

“I’m not just any man. I’m the father of her baby. I have certain legal rights, don’t I?”

“I suggest you don’t mention anything about your legal rights to Blythe when you take her out to dinner this evening. Threatening her would be like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull.”

“I have no intention of making any threats as long as Blythe is willing to be reasonable, and I think she will be. After all, it’ll be in her best interest to marry me.”

“I’m not sure Blythe will see it that way.”

Leaning over and placing his hands, palms flat, atop his desk, Adam stared at Craig. “Make no mistake about it, Blythe is going to marry me. Neither of us planned on becoming parents, on having to share a child. I’m sure I’d be at the bottom of her list for possible father candidates, and I can’t see Blythe as a mother. She’s not nurturing and maternal the way Joy is.”

“Just take my advice, old buddy. Tread lightly where Blythe is concerned. If you push too hard, she’ll dig in her heels and fight you to the bitter end.”

“I’ll be my most charming self tonight, and I’ll make the mother of my unborn child an offer she can’t refuse.” Shoving back his chair, Adam stood, shot out his hand and grinned at Craig. “You’re going to be my best man. Let’s shake on it. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what date Blythe and I decide on tonight.”

Three

Blythe knew the minute she took a bite of the orange roughy that she was going to be sick. She’d been foolish to order the fish blackened, but it was one of her favorites. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea of this terrible nausea hitting her at odd times of the day and night.

“Excuse me.” Shoving her chair away from the table, she stood quickly and made a mad dash through the dimly lit restaurant, only to stop short, realizing she had no idea were the ladies’ room was located.

Grabbing a startled waiter by the arm, Blythe felt a sour, burning taste rise in her throat. “Bathroom,” she gasped, almost afraid to open her mouth.

“Around the corner, to the right,” the wide-eyed young man replied.

Adam caught up with her just as she swung open the door marked Ladies. When he clasped her shoulder in his big hand, she jerked away from him.

“What the devil’s the matter?” he asked.

She didn’t have time for explanations. If she didn’t make it to a sink or commode within a couple of seconds, she would be barfing all over Adam’s sleek Italian loafers. She ran inside the rest room, siamming the door in his face.

Adam pounded on the door. “Blythe, are you all right?”

What the hell had happened? They had been eating a delicious meal and actually sharing a pleasant conversation about music. They’d discovered they both shared a love for good jazz. Then all of a sudden, Blythe’s face had turned a rather odd shade of greenish white and she’d run from the table as if she were being chased by demons.

“Blythe!”

“May I help you, sir?” a waiter asked.

“Not unless you can find a lady willing to go inside there to see what’s wrong with my date.”

“Is the young lady sick, sir?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need someone to go in there and find out what’s going on.”

“Well, sir, I’ll see what I can do.” The waiter walked away.

“Blythe? For the love of Mike, woman, will you answer me!” Adam yelled.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity before an attractive brunette brusbed past him and opened the ladies’ room door.

“Ma’am.” Adam was too worried about Blythe to give a thought to appearing foolish to a stranger.

“Yes.” Turning, she smiled, her brown eyes surveying Adam from head to toe.

Any other time he would have been flattered by the woman’s blatant appraisal and obvious interest, but right this minute, his only thoughts were of Blythe’s well-being.

“My date seems to have taken ill. She’s in there, and I have no way of knowing whether or not she needs my help.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, I see. Tell me what your date looks like and I’ll check on her for you.”

“She’s a petite redhead. About five-two. And she’s wearing a black-and-white halter dress.”

“I’ll check on her.”

“Thanks.”

Adam waited a little longer, sweat popping out on his forehead and upper lip. Was it normal for pregnant women to act so strangely? he wondered. Of course, he’d heard about morning sickness, but it wasn’t morning now. It was after eight in the evening.

The brown-eyed stranger cracked open the rest room door, peeped out and motioned for Adam.

“Is she all right?” he asked.

“She’s been throwing up. She’s awfully sick. I took her a damp paper towel, but I swear she looks like she’s going to faint any minute now.”

Without considering the possible consequences of his actions, Adam shoved the bathroom door completely open and brushed past the brunette. The door to the middle stall stood open. Blythe leaned over the commode, retching.

Grabbing the wet paper towel out of her hand, Adam wiped her face with it. “Morning sickness in the evening? Dammit, Blythe, do you have to do everything backward?”

Gulping for air, she slapped at the arm Adam had draped around her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m taking you home and we’re calling Dr. Meyers.”

“I’ll be all right. The nausea is better. I don’t think I’ll throw up again.”

“Come on, then.” Adam lifted Blythe in his arms. “You scared the devil out of me rushing off the way you did.”

“For goodness’ sakes, put me down.” The words came out in a whisper. Blythe noticed the tall, willowy brunette smiling at them as they passed her on their way out of the ladies’ room. “Have you lost your mind!”

Two waiters and the restaurant manager stood in the corridor.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Wyatt?” the manager asked. “How may we be of assistance?”

“Charge dinner to my credit card, and make sure there’s a nice tip included,” Adam said. “I’m afraid Ms. Elliott is experiencing a little upset stomach. I’m taking her home.”

“Oh, dear me. Surely there was nothing wrong with her meal,” the manager said.

“Not at all” The manager and both waiters followed Adam through the restaurant and out the front door. “My future wife and I are going to have a baby and she’s just suffering a little morning sickness at the wrong time of day.”