Mac was watching her with a concerned frown, so she did her best to give him a reassuring smile although she felt very awkward when Claire urged them to use the pillows to try the different positions she was describing.
“As your weight increases, you’ll need to make more adjustments,” she said. Her glance at Megan was sympathetic, making her feel even more clumsy. She must look as ridiculous as she felt.
Mac was glad when the exercise was over and he could get to his feet. Trying to help Megan shift and turn on the mat had been an awkward experience, considering that they barely knew each other and he was never quite sure where to touch her.
From the pink in her cheeks, he assumed she found their situation equally uncomfortable. Perhaps this had all been a big mistake. In the week since he’d gotten the letter from the clinic, he’d thought a lot about what he was getting into.
Now he took Megan’s hand and carefully helped her to her feet. Their eyes met and that intriguing splash of color ran up her cheeks again. She looked away, but not before Mac heard her sharply in-drawn breath. No doubt the baby was crowding her lungs or something equally clinical.
Claire called for a short break. There was a general exodus from the room and Megan’s gaze followed the others.
“I need to, um, use the restroom,” she said softly. “Pregnancy does that.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Mac replied. “Maybe there’s a coffee machine somewhere. Want some?”
She shook her head. “Caffeine’s bad for the baby. I’d better get in line.”
Feeling like an idiot, he watched her leave the room.
“How’s it going?” Claire asked him when everyone else was gone.
“I just realized how little I know about this,” he admitted.
“The class?” she asked with a chuckle. “That’s why you’re here.”
“No, the whole deal about having a child,” he replied, wondering how much she had been told.
Claire patted his arm and smiled. “You’re not alone,” she said. “First time father?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” Just saying it made him feel good. A foolish grin spread across his face.
“The best thing you can do is to talk to your partner,” Claire suggested. “There’s no better way to share in the experience than communication. And be sure to ask questions while you’re here. No matter how trivial it may seem, you’ll only be putting into words what someone else is wondering about, too.”
Before he could thank her for the advice, three of the women came back. They were laughing and he heard the words “potty breaks” and “shrinking bladder” before he saw Megan trail after them. He remembered Claire’s words.
“Would you like to stop somewhere afterwards?” he asked Megan when she joined him. They needed to talk.
Her gaze was guarded. “What for?”
“How about ice cream?” he asked. “With hot-fudge topping?”
“You make it hard to say no,” she admitted with a slight smile.
Relieved, Mac cupped her elbow. “That was my intention.” If he had his way, she would agree to everything he suggested.
Chapter Three
It was all Megan could do to wait for Mac to slide into the red vinyl booth across from her before she dug into her sundae. They’d agreed to meet at the Dairy Freeze near the clinic, where he had insisted on paying for her ice cream along with his own. Ordinarily that kind of macho taking-care-of-the-little-woman gesture set her teeth on edge, but he’d done it with a wink that made her feel more like an attractive female than an overweight incubator.
“Humor me,” he’d pleaded, as if he understood that she was used to paying her own way. Refusing would have been churlish.
Now he took a bite of his banana split as she ate a mouthful of ice cream and closed her eyes in sheer bliss. The creamy sweetness exploded on her tongue and slid down her throat like a sigh.
How had he known she’d been fighting a major chocolate craving all day? She’d given up caffeine and alcohol, and she watched what she ate, but in the last eight months chocolate had become an obsession. Because of those first insistent cravings, she’d suspected she might be pregnant even before she’d used the home test.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with blatant curiosity. Embarrassed, Megan looked away as an old song about a teen angel spun around them. The Dairy Freeze was decorated with fifties memorabilia, including miniature jukeboxes at each booth and black vinyl records—45s—scattered over the walls.
“This is pretty good,” Mac said of his ice cream, breaking the awkward silence between them. “Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”
“Thanks for asking.” Megan licked fudge sauce from her spoon, sneaking peeks at him as he continued to study her openly. His interest spiked her temperature. She liked his weathered face. His dark, compelling eyes were fringed with lashes any woman would kill for. His hair was a warm brown, combed off his wide forehead and cut nearly short enough to disguise its tendency to wave. With luck, his genes would breed true.
He oozed masculinity and she had his undivided attention. Just because she was as big as a house didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the company of a handsome man. Too darned bad he was only assessing her as breeding stock.
Under his prolonged scrutiny she began to wonder whether her mascara had smudged or she sported a smear of chocolate on her chin. What did he think of her?
“I know nothing about you,” he said finally as the wailing ballad was replaced by energetic surfer music that made Megan want to tap her foot. “What do I ask first?”
Not sure how to reply, she shoveled in more ice cream. “What do you want to know?” she asked, mouth full.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re having this baby.” He certainly cut to the chase. “Your pregnancy wasn’t an accident. It had to be something you planned, but you don’t have a husband to share the responsibility.”
“And I don’t need one,” she said defensively. “I’ve never been married.” Now why had she volunteered that? “I wanted a baby and I’m perfectly capable of raising it alone.” What right did this man, this would-be anonymous donor, have to question her decision? There was no reason for her to justify it, not to him.
“What about your girlfriend?” she asked above the escalating drumbeat from the jukebox. “How does she feel about you being a donor to another woman?” Unless she was made of ice or didn’t really care about him, that had to hurt.
His mouth tightened. “I didn’t intend for the clinic to use my sperm.” He ignored the way her eyes must have widened in disbelief. “Before I started seeing Justine, I went to the clinic to help out a friend.”
“She must be some friend,” Megan drawled.
Mac’s cheeks darkened at her comment. “She was single and she wanted a baby. I guess you could understand that feeling?” His brows lifted sardonically.
Megan flushed at his tone. “Maybe. Why don’t you just go on with your story.”
“She changed her mind about the baby and now she’s married to a great guy. They’ll probably have their own family.”
One of the lucky ones, Megan thought.
“Unfortunately by the time I tried to inform the clinic that my donation was no longer needed, it was too late. The rest, as they say, is history.” His gaze flicked downward to where the table hid her stomach. “I still haven’t gotten