Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy

If Simone believed in miracles, if she believed that he might be right about…

But she couldn’t. Her mother had slowly whittled away at her self-esteem and her ability to trust anyone with her true emotions.

Instead, she tore her attention away from Mike, fearing that, if he caught her eye, the attraction she just couldn’t seem to kick would be too obvious. And if that happened, she could end up encouraging him to think the two of them could live happily ever after, rather than convince him they wouldn’t.

After putting away the items she’d purchased while shopping—a pair of scrubs to go along with the nursing shoes, as well as an iron and a few other household cleaning products—she went into the kitchen and announced, “Hey, I’m back.”

For a moment, her words had a honey-I’m-home ring to them, and she almost forgot that, when it came to love, she was a nonbeliever. At least, when it came to her and that particular emotion, she was.

Maybe she’d be better off coming clean with Mike about her past. About her irreparable scars. Then, when she finally leveled with him about the baby, he’d be more inclined to understand why she felt the way she did.

The door swung open, and Mike strode inside, as charming and hunky as ever. “Hey, beautiful. How was your day?”

Darn him. She almost felt pretty when she was with him. Even in a pair of jeans and a plain white cotton blouse.

She conjured a smile and lifted her right foot, which was wearing bright pink nail polish and a turquoise flip-flop. “It was great. I had a pedicure. See?”

His mouth quirked in a boyish grin that nearly buckled her knees. “Your toes look great. So does the rest of you.”

Oh, yeah. She’d gotten a haircut while she was at the salon. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for noticing. She usually wore it pulled back, out of her face.

“I like it down and curled under like that.”

Yeah. Well…“Thanks.” She combed her fingers through the strands, feeling them sluice along her hands, and struggled to find something else to say to that.

A change of topic would be good about now.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked.

“Barbecued chicken, seasoned red potatoes and a salad that’ll have you begging for the secret recipe of my vinaigrette dressing. But I’ll warn you right now. It’ll be virtually impossible to get me to crack. No one has been able to pry it from my lips.”

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, her thoughts to his kisses.

No, no, no, she told herself. Not there. Not now.

“I like vinaigrette dressing,” she said instead. “I can’t wait to taste it.”

He winked, and those kissable lips quirked up in a crooked grin.

She felt herself weakening, her thoughts flirting dangerously with memories of the past, of the night they’d made love until nearly dawn.

And that couldn’t be good.

She struggled to find some generic words, something that would get their conversation and her thoughts back on track.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“I’ve got it all covered. So just come outside and watch me grill.”

Okay. That was easy enough.

Once outdoors, he pulled up a patio chair, and she took a seat. All the while, Woofer and Wags scrambled for her attention. The puppy jumped on her leg, and the dog nuzzled her hands, hoping for a scratch behind the ears.

“Hey, guys,” Mike said to the dogs. “Give the lady a break.”

She smiled, providing them each the attention they wanted. “It’s kind of nice to know I was missed.”

Mike had missed her, too. But he was glad she’d gotten out of the house and treated herself to a new hairstyle and a pedicure.

“Why don’t you two go play,” he told the dogs as he reached for the rubber ball he’d left on the porch railing a while back and hurled it to the back of the yard.

As the dogs raced to the corner of the fence, his words echoed the instructions his parents used to give him and the other children on nights the couple had sat down to watch a movie on television. Mike hadn’t realized how difficult it must have been for his parents to juggle a love life around a houseful of rugrats, and his admiration for them grew.

“The dogs seem to be getting along much better now,” Simone said.

“I agree. We should be able to start leaving them alone when we both have to work.”

“Speaking of work,” Simone said, “we had an interesting case the other night. A little boy found a stray bullet in his backyard and apparently decided to put it up his nose.”

“Crazy kids. I’ve seen them put jelly beans and crayons up there. But a bullet? That must have been a bit tricky to get out.”

They continued to talk about some of the interesting cases they’d had while working, as well as a couple of humorous situations they’d come across.

“My dad’s birthday is Monday evening, so we’re all going to get together at my parents’ house. Sometimes, it’s a bit of a zoo, but it’s always entertaining. If you’re free, I’d like you to go with me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”

He nodded, focusing on the fact that she’d said this time, which implied she might be up for it in the future.

They made some more small talk, and before long, the chicken was done. After Mike placed it on a clean platter, they left the dogs in the yard to eat outside and went indoors to enjoy their own meal in the dining room.

Mike pulled out Simone’s chair so she could sit down at the antique oak table. “I’ve got a bottle of merlot on the counter. If you give me a minute, I’ll pour us each a glass.”

“That’s okay. I’d rather have water.”

Was she still worried that the alcohol would lower her inhibitions and make her more susceptible to temptation? If so, she didn’t need to be. He wasn’t trying to go that route. He just wanted to set the mood and add a romantic touch.

He felt a bit funny drinking alone, but he didn’t want the wine to go to waste. “I’ll pour myself a glass, then. Do you want ice in your water?”

“Yes, please.”

When he returned to the table, she seemed pensive, introspective. She bit down on her bottom lip, furrowed her brow and stared at her plate. He watched her for a while, intent upon keeping his mouth shut. But as they ate in silence, curiosity finally got the better of him.

“Who hurt you, Simone?”

She glanced up, her gaze snagging his. “What do you mean?”

“Who broke your heart? I get this feeling that a man did a real number on you, and you’re not about to put yourself in that same position again.”