And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride: And Babies Make Five

His curiosity was probably going to be the death of him someday, but he couldn’t help wondering about her situation, about where she’d been, why she’d finally returned.

Why the hell did he find her so intriguing—even more so now that she was back on Primrose Lane?

He filtered his questions down to one—as a starter—and tried to coax the information out of her indirectly. “It’s nice to have you back in the neighborhood. I’d come to think that you were gone for good.”

“After Peter’s funeral, I went to stay with my mom in Cambridge for a few months. It gave me some time to heal, but the months turned into a year. And before I could move back to Boston, my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her lips tightened into a firm line, as though holding back emotion, and she nodded. “Thanks. Me, too.”

“So you stayed to take care of her?”

“Yes. I wanted to be there for her. We’d been through a lot together, and we were especially close.” She poured the cocoa from a pan on the stove into the cups and gave him one. “After she died, I decided I needed a little R and R and took an extended trip to Europe.”

She’d obviously been through a rough five years, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape. To take a break from responsibility, maybe. But he kept that assumption to himself.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’m home now and looking forward to the future.”

He glanced at her distended belly and smiled. “I can see that you are.” That damned curiosity, laced with a wee bit of disappointment, pressed him to ask, “So where did you meet your new husband? In Cambridge or in Europe?”

“Neither,” she said.

He opened his mouth to quiz her further, then thought better of it and lifted the mug to his lips instead. As he took a drink of the sweet, creamy cocoa, he was glad he’d taken her up on having a cup. Still, he couldn’t help wondering whom she’d hooked up with.

Or why it seemed to matter.

“I didn’t remarry,” she offered. “Did you?”

He shook his head to indicate he hadn’t, since he’d suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

There were plenty of women who didn’t feel the need to sign a piece of paper to make a relationship legal, although he wouldn’t have thought Samantha would be one of them. But she must have her reasons.

Life was complicated sometimes, and he realized it really wasn’t any of his business.

Yet he couldn’t help asking, “So, are you living with someone?” Then, for good measure, he threw out a little chuckle and added, “I’d hate to have anyone find us together and be uneasy about it.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” She took a seat across from him. “I’m not involved with anyone.”

Okay. But there’d definitely been a man in her life about six months ago. Obviously the relationship hadn’t lasted, and he wondered why. She didn’t seem to be the one-night-stand type. But then, what did he really know about Samantha Keating?

As she slid her index finger into the handle of the mug on the table in front of her, the cup spun forward, slipped from her hand and spilled, making a chocolaty mess all over the table.

“Oops.” She blushed and clicked her tongue. “How clumsy was that?”

She pushed back her chair and went to the sink for a dishcloth. As she moved across the floor, he couldn’t help but watch her.

From behind, she didn’t appear to be pregnant at all, but she definitely had a basketball-size bulge in front.

“I guess you could say that I’m going to join the ranks of single mothers.” She turned on the spigot, wet the cloth, then wrung it out. “And I’m looking forward to being a mom.”

Then her pregnancy hadn’t been an accident.

“The baby was planned?” he asked before he could filter the question.

She stopped her movements near the sink, then shut off the water, slowly turned around and faced him, the damp cloth dangling in her hand. She appeared to be a little perplexed. Or maybe annoyed. And he couldn’t blame her if she was.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to pry.” Okay, so that wasn’t true. He’d felt compelled to fish for information, but he couldn’t explain why. So he concocted an excuse for it instead. “My sister is due in August, so I’ve found myself intrigued by pregnant women.”

She placed her free hand on top of her belly and smiled, once again illuminating the room. “I had in vitro fertilization done at the Armstrong Fertility Institute. So, yes, the pregnancy was planned.”

Now it was Hector’s turn to feel clumsy and off stride. She’d gone the sperm-donor route?

What a waste, he thought. She wouldn’t even have a romantic evening to remember it all by. And that was a real shame.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing.” He took another sip of cocoa, trying to sort through the news she’d dropped on him, trying to get a grip on his curiosity that hadn’t lessened in the least.

Samantha Keating was back in town. She was also unattached and pregnant. He ought to guzzle down the rest of the hot cocoa—which was really delicious—then thank her for her hospitality and hightail it out of here. But for some crazy reason, he seemed to be all the more fascinated by her.

And he’d be damned if he knew why.

Chapter Two

Samantha cleaned up the mess on the table, then carried the dirty dishcloth back to the sink to rinse it off. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d not only welcomed Hector inside the house, but offered him hot cocoa.

She supposed it was because she’d appreciated his thoughtfulness. Yet in all honesty, she’d also been a little unnerved by the blackout, by the isolation of being home alone on such a dreary afternoon.

As she’d wandered through the silent, memory-laden rooms of the big old house, she’d felt unsettled, on edge. The knock at the door had surprised her, but she’d been glad to see a friendly face. Chatting with Hector had been a nice diversion, so she didn’t mind his visit. But she wasn’t about to fill him in on all the details of her situation, no matter how nice he’d been, no matter how many questions he asked.

His curiosity about her pregnancy had seemed a bit out of the ordinary, even though he’d explained his interest, and it made sense.

She wondered how his sister was faring, if she’d had any morning sickness, if she had plans to take any childbirth classes, if she had someone to coach her through labor and delivery.

Samantha had been nauseous the first few months, but she was feeling a lot better now. And while she’d like to take the classes, she didn’t see any point in it. A natural delivery was just too risky. Dr. Demetrios was going to schedule her for a C-section.

As the storm continued to pound the windowpanes, Hector reached into the box he’d placed on the table and pulled out a handful of small candles. “It’s getting pretty dark in here. What do you think about lighting a few more of these?”

“Good idea.” Samantha went to the cupboard and reached for several saucers on which they could place the votives. Then she carried them back to the table.

Moments later, there were candles flickering throughout the downstairs rooms.

“Would you like me to build a fire in the hearth?” Hector asked. “That would give you more light, and it will keep you warm, too. I’ve got some wood that I keep stacked in a storage shed in my yard.”

“It’s a gas fireplace,” she said, “so you don’t need to go back out in the rain. But if you don’t mind lighting it for me, I’d appreciate it. Peter used to take care of things like that.”

As her neighbor pushed back his chair, she watched his body unfold and rise. He was a big man, and the kitchen, which had always been roomy, seemed to shrink with him in it.