Hers must have done the same thing, because she picked at her food, too.
They ate in silence until he felt compelled to argue his case one more time. “You can’t convince me that you don’t have feelings for me, too.”
“I told you that I do. And more than I should.”
“Our lovemaking was off the charts,” he added. “We couldn’t be any more sexually compatible.”
“I agree. But great sex isn’t enough of a basis for marriage. Neither is parenthood.”
What was up with her attitude about the baby?
Their baby.
She could have been blindsided by the news, he supposed. And didn’t pregnant women’s hormones play havoc with them? “All I’m saying is that we need to give ourselves some time to sort through this.”
She pushed her plate aside, then dropped her used napkin on top. “Time isn’t going to change anything. You’re looking for Mrs. Right, and I’m clearly not that woman.”
He tried to tell himself to go easy on her at a time like this. She’d told him about growing up with a mother who hadn’t shown her any love. And on top of that, she had to be struggling with a multitude of changes in her body.
Maybe she was also considering all the obvious adjustments a baby—and a husband, if Mike had his way—would require her to make when it came to the life she’d created for herself.
But the news of her pregnancy, along with her thoughts of adoption, had unbalanced him.
“You know,” she said, “I’m really tired and probably ought to turn in for the night.”
Was she? Or was she just trying to get rid of him?
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll take off. I’m on duty tomorrow, too. But maybe we can talk more about this the next day.”
“There’s not much to say.”
“Oh, I think there is.” Yet something twisted in his gut, something that made him want to shove his plate aside, too.
Damn. Why was her first thought to give up their baby?
If she insisted, there was no way in hell that Mike would stand for it. And she had to have his agreement, didn’t she?
All his carefully laid plans had begun to unravel at the edges.
Ever since the night of Dr. Wilder’s party, he’d been telling her that he’d give her the time she needed. That she’d soon realize the two of them were made for each other. But if she didn’t give him something to go on soon, he was going to back off. Hell, his ego, as strong and cocky as it sometimes was, couldn’t take the constant brush-off.
She walked him to the door, and while he thought about kissing her senseless, he brushed his lips across her brow instead.
“Sleep tight,” he said.
“You, too.”
Yeah, right. He had a lot to think about, a lot to keep him awake.
He tried to remind himself how good sex had been. How hot their kisses were.
But Mike was only human.
And the truth was, his heart could only take so much.
The next morning, at the station, Mike watched a gin game that had grown pretty intense, but his mind was on the bombshell—actually two of them—he’d received the night before.
Simone was having his baby.
And she wanted to give it up.
At least, she hadn’t decided upon an abortion, which made him feel better.
He understood that she might have wished her mother would have given her to parents who would have loved and appreciated her. But this was different.
Mike wanted the baby. And deep in his heart, he believed Simone wanted it, too.
Preferring to stew in his own thoughts and suffer alone, he got to his feet and walked out of the station.
When footsteps sounded behind him, he turned to see his partner, Leif Johnson, a stocky redhead with blue eyes and a quick wit.
Leif knew how Mike felt about Simone, but then again, a lot of people probably did. Mike never did try to hide his feelings.
Of course, that didn’t mean he was the kind of man who kissed and told.
“Hey,” Leif said. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”
“I guess I am.”
“Would getting it off your chest help?”
Leif had known that Mike had taken Simone home after Dr. Wilder’s party, but that’s all he knew. Mike hadn’t leveled with anyone about what he and Simone had shared that night. But now that Simone had him second-guessing himself and his feelings, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
Mike leaned against the outside wall of the building and crossed his arms. “Do you remember when they christened the hospital library in honor of James Wilder? And the cocktail party Peter Wilder invited us to?”
“Yeah.”
Normally, paramedics didn’t get included in those kinds of hospital social events. But Mike and Leif had been on duty the night James Wilder suffered the fatal heart attack. And they’d tried valiantly—but unsuccessfully—to save his life. As a result, the two had been added to the guest list.
“I gave Simone a ride home that night,” Mike said.
“Yeah, I remember.” Leif smiled. “She looked like maybe she’d had a little too much to drink.”
“Well, one thing led to another and…” Mike blew out a loaded sigh.
“No kidding?” Leif grinned, knowing how much Mike cared for Simone and immediately making the appropriate jump. “Are you two still seeing each other?”
“Not like that. She says she just wants to be friends.”
“Hey, that’s life. I’ve had my share of women tell me the same thing. That is, until Linda and I hooked up.”
Leif was dating a kindergarten teacher he’d met when her class had come to the fire station for a field trip. Leif didn’t kiss and tell, either, but Mike knew that they’d been sleeping together.
One morning about a month ago, Leif hadn’t come home the night before. He’d apparently left his head-lamps on and couldn’t get his car to start. So he’d had to call Mike and ask for a ride to work.
Linda seemed like a nice woman, and Mike hoped they’d be happy.
“So what’s the problem?” Leif asked. “Just cut bait and run.”
“I would, but I can’t help believing that Simone and I are meant for each other. But she’s so…” Mike didn’t want to go into too much personal detail. “So damn set in her ways.”
Leif placed a hand on Mike’s back. “I know it hurts, man. But you can’t chase after a woman who clearly isn’t interested. There are stalking laws and all that.”
Mike clucked his tongue. “I’m not a stalker. And I know when a woman isn’t interested. If I truly believed it, I’d back way off.”
“So she’s given you reason to believe there’s hope?”
“Yeah.” She’d admitted that she cared for him. And he couldn’t help believing her, especially when he remembered the way she’d looked at him when they’d made love—talk about someone wearing their heart on their sleeve.
At three in the morning, she’d lost that tipsy