You're My Baby

“Spit it out, that’s how.”

He rose to his feet. “Nah, it’s a crazy idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She went to him and guided him back to the sofa, then settled beside him. “Get it off your chest, Gilbert.”

“I didn’t want to do it like this.” He looked miserable.

“Do what?”

He lifted her hand, studying her fingers, then said in a hoarse voice, “Propose.”

Her ears echoed with the word—a preposterous word. Propose? “Come again?” She leaned forward to be sure she had heard correctly.

“I should get on my knees, present you with a rose or something,” he went on lamely. “Isn’t that how it’s done?”

She held up her hand, as if asking for a time-out. “Wait a minute. Are you actually suggesting we get married?”

“I told you it was a crazy idea.” His shoulders slumped. “But I thought maybe we could work out some sort of arrangement. You need a father for your baby, I need a housekeeper. I know it wouldn’t be easy, but…”

Chaotic thoughts whirled in Pam’s head. “Marriage? That’s a pretty extreme solution.”

“It was just a thought.”

For one idiotic moment Pam actually considered the idea. “Why would you be willing to marry me?”

“You’d be a great influence on Andy. Not a housekeeper, really. But Shelley would be off my case. Besides, if we were married, you could keep your job and you’d have a name for your baby’s birth certificate.”

She sat speechless, skeptical, but helpless to ignore the benefits of his idea. Marriage was sacred. It was about much more than mutual convenience.

“We’re friends,” he continued.

“That’s a start,” she conceded.

“I’m suggesting a kind of open-ended arrangement, but it would help me out if we could agree to live together for at least a year. After that, Andy’ll go back to his mother. So, come September, we can terminate our formal relationship. You know, we can—”

“Divorce?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know, Grant. It’s a drastic step.” Just then, he put his arm around her shoulder. The embrace made her feel warm, protected—and unexpectedly fluttery, like when she was in junior high and the boy she had had a crush on smiled at her.

“It would be what we make of it.”

She looked up into his eyes, so serious yet hopeful. “Even if I were to entertain the notion, how would we ever carry it off?”

“You’re the drama teacher. The imaginative one. Surely we could think of something.” He massaged the sore spot between her shoulders as he went on speaking. “Somehow we’d have to convince everyone at school that we’re so in love we acted on impulse.”

“What do you mean?

“It would make sense for us to be married this weekend. Before school starts. Before Andy comes. We could pass it off as a whirlwind courtship.”

“But…but…”

“You’re right, they’d suspect. It’s not like we have a dating history.” His hand stilled on her back.

“Weren’t you here in town all summer?” She couldn’t help herself. She was actually playing out the scenario in her mind.

“No. I attended a three-week coaches’ clinic in Austin the end of July and the beginning of August.”

Pam studied the ceiling, wondering why fate was playing into their hands when she desperately needed a reason to say no. “I was there, too,” she said quietly.

“In Austin?”

“For summer school.”

He smiled for the first time since he’d arrived on her doorstep. “Do you think we might have fallen in love there?”

Her heart thudded. “It’s possible,” she found herself whispering.

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you. I would never do that. I would genuinely welcome your baby for whatever time we’re together. In fact, if the kid needs a father—” He stopped as if he’d realized he was presuming too much. “I mean, well, my name would be on the birth certificate.”

Pam studied his face—the plane of his cheeks, the set of his mouth, the depth in his eyes. Implicitly she knew he would never hurt her or her baby. Outlandish as it was, his offer was tempting. A momentary panic fluttered in her stomach. She needed time. “You’ve given me a lot to consider.”

He smiled. “Then you’re not rejecting the proposal outright?”

“I should.” She took a deep breath. “But I can’t.”

“If we’re to pull this off, we don’t have much time.”

“I know.”

“Tomorrow evening, then?”

Twenty-four hours to make a life-altering decision? Impossible. “Okay.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then excused himself. She trailed him to the door, her emotions in turmoil. Before leaving, he paused to say one last thing. “I would take good care of you, Pam.” Then he was gone.

She wandered back to the sofa, pulling the throw around her as a shield against all the doubts, anxieties, questions.

She had some serious thinking to do. Fast.

CHAPTER THREE

THE ONCOMING HEADLIGHTS, the flashing neon of fast-food joints, the intricacies of traffic—none of it penetrated. Grant drove more by instinct than conscious action. Had he made an utter mess of things? What had seemed like a reasonable, if somewhat far-out suggestion an hour ago now could be categorized as sheer idiocy. Although he’d wanted to help Pam, too, she had to interpret his proposal as self-serving. And it was.

But not entirely for the obvious reasons.

The idea appealed to him on another level, one he wasn’t yet ready to put into words. He’d dated lots of women since his divorce, one or two rather seriously. But none had been as fascinating to him as Pam, who embraced life and didn’t give a darn what other people thought.