“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.
He moved like a man who was sure of himself, and she wondered what it would be like to face off with him in the courtroom. Intimidating, she suspected. Yet she didn’t feel the least bit uneasy about him now and couldn’t help studying him while he wasn’t looking.
Some might think he needed a haircut, but she didn’t. Those dark curls, still damp from the rain, made him appear rugged and rebellious.
She stared after him longer than she should have, until something sizzled on the stove. The soup, she realized, as she hurried to turn down the burner, to check the tenderness of the vegetables and to clean up the mess.
When Hector returned from the family room, he cast her a heart-shifting, blood-strumming smile. “The fire’s lit.”
She never had been able to ignore a courtesy, and a thank-you didn’t seem to be quite enough. The poor man was still pretty damp from bringing over the box of candles.
“I made chicken-noodle soup for dinner. There’s more than enough for two. I can also make grilled-cheese sandwiches, if you’d like to eat with me.”
She expected him to turn her down, but instead he brightened. “Actually, I worked through lunch today, so if you’re sure you have enough, that would be great.”
“Good. I’ll have everything ready in a few minutes.”
“Do you want me to set the table?” he asked.
“All right.” She handed him two sheets of paper towels to use as napkins, and silverware, then pointed out where he could find the glasses. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to do any real grocery shopping yet, so my beverage selection is limited.”
“No problem.”
They settled on water for him and milk for her.
The rain continued to splatter hard against the windowpanes as the storm battered Boston, yet inside Samantha’s house, the candles flickered on the tables, casting a romantic glow in the room.
“You know,” Hector said, “Over the years I kept expecting to see a for sale or lease sign in front of your house.”
“I would have had a hard time selling or letting someone else move in. Peter really liked this house.”
“You didn’t?”
“Oh, yes. It’s just that …” She wouldn’t go into all the details about why she’d never quite felt comfortable here, about how she was determined to get over all of that now and make this her home.
“It’s just what?”
“Well, the house was so big and empty after Peter died, and I was never comfortable staying here by myself.”
“Are you feeling better about living alone now?”
“Yes, I am.” The extended trip to Europe had been good for her in a lot of ways—some much needed respite,