Surprise, Doc! You're A Daddy!

“Joe—you—made me laugh,” she said.

“Me? I never make anybody laugh except when I trip over my own feet.”

“You made me laugh with the way you saw things, like everything was fresh and new and wonderful,” she said. “Also, I liked the way you moved.”

“I wasn’t aware of moving in any particular manner.” Although Hugh had been a diver in college and swam laps daily in the family pool, he considered himself a klutz on the dance floor.

“That’s because you can’t see yourself from the rear,” Meg teased.

He ducked his head. “I never thought about the way I walk.”

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” she said. “That’s the third thing I like.”

“Those aren’t reasons to fall in love,” he protested.

“Why not?”

“They lack substance.”

“People don’t fall in love with their brains,” Meg said.

He supposed she was right. Through his hand curved over hers, Hugh was intensely aware of the softness and warmth of her skin. He noted the quivering freckles across her cheeks and the way the collar of the shirt fell open to bare a vulnerable patch of shoulder.

Sexual attraction wasn’t love, but it might be the first step. Besides, what he felt went far beyond the physical.

“I wish I remembered what it was like to be with you.” He gave her an apologetic grin. “I’m sure it was spectacular.”

“I remember what you were like,” she retorted, and had the grace to blush. “Now we’re both embarrassed.”

In the other room, Dana began babbling. Meg excused herself to check on her. When she returned, she stood by the counter. “She was talking in her sleep.”

The spell had broken between them, although Hugh felt a residual hum of excitement. He’d never met a woman to whom he responded so strongly. Even if he weren’t Joe, he was glad to have discovered Meg.

And Dana. “Have you thought about her future?” he asked. “Your—our—daughter’s?”

“What about her future?”

“Surely you don’t want her to grow up riding a scooter in the street.” He gestured toward the window, through which they could hear children’s shouts and the scrape of metal wheels on concrete. “And you want her to get a good education, don’t you?”

Meg gripped her mug. “Of course, I want her to graduate from high school.”

“Then she should go on to college,” Hugh said.

“There’s a community college not far away.” Meg remained standing. “She could commute and work at the restaurant on weekends.”

“I know she isn’t even in preschool yet,” he said. “But if she’s my daughter, Meg, I want more for her. Where I live, the environment is much more challenging….”

He stopped, seeing the determination written on her face. Apparently he’d struck a nerve.

“Mercy Canyon is our home,” Meg said. “We have friends here, people who love us. Who stood by us when we needed them.”

Hugh thought of Sam’s blustering kindness. “Friends are precious. I lost my closest buddy in that boating accident, and I’d give anything to have him back. I’m not suggesting that you give up your friends, Meg.”

“It sure sounded like it.”

“People move around a lot these days. You can keep in touch even if you don’t stay in Mercy Canyon.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to grow up the way I did.” Her expression tense, Meg collected the mugs and took them to the sink. “Tim and I couldn’t rely on our parents. Some nights we weren’t even sure we would have a roof over our heads. If we hadn’t had friends to rely on, I shudder to think what might have happened to us.”

“You’re not a child anymore,” Hugh pointed out gently. “And I would never let my daughter suffer like that.”

“She needs security. Money is only part of it,” Meg said. “She needs to know where she belongs, and so do I.”