Falling for the Mom-to-Be Page 15

  Was this a going-away gift? Something to remember her by?

  Leif loathed the sound of remember and her in the same sentence.

  The soup he’d just eaten must have had too many tomatoes in it, because his stomach had suddenly turned sour.

  If she left, he should at least be prepared with a parting gift of his own. But what?

  *

  A little after nine, Marta let herself in. Leif had on the evening news while he carved a small piece of teak wood. He quickly folded the towel over his lap and hid the figure he’d started under the chair, then clicked off the TV when she stepped into the room.

  Looking happy and invigorated, she approached with a wide smile and some small bags. She bent and kissed him. He savored the kiss. Who knew how much longer he’d get them?

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  “We had fun. Look.” She wiggled the dangling bead and stone earrings from her lobes. “I got these and several pairs more from this supertalented jewelry maker.”

  “Nice. I like them.”

  She sat on his lap and ruffled through the bags, soon finding what else she’d hunted for. “I got this for you.”

  She handed him a necklace.

  “Very nice. What is it?”

  She cuffed his shoulder playfully. “It’s a moon-mask necklace.” She held it before his face by the thick leather strings so he could see it better. “It’s made of abalone shell and carved wood.”

  As the pendant hung and shifted in the lamplight, he was taken by the changing colors and designs from the amazing seashell. It was enclosed by a delicate wood carving, with a funny moon face superimposed over the abalone, making the moon look as though it was ready to blow out a big wind onto the earth.

  “That’s really nice. Thank you. But you do realize I don’t wear necklaces.”

  She undid the special leather knot and slipped the necklace over Leif’s head. “You do now. When I saw this, I had to get it for you. It’s made by a Chinook artist. He said the moon is a prophet with the desire to make the world a better place. I’m not saying you’re a prophet or anything, but you make the world a better place. You build beautiful homes and colleges. Places where people can grow and be happy. So I said, ‘Marta, you’ve got to buy this for Leif.’” She laughed insecurely, like a young girl, yet seeming so delighted with herself and the fanciful gift she’d given him.

  “I like it.” Her gesture touched a tender spot inside. “Thank you very much.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m glad you like it.”

  They stayed quietly like that for a few moments, resting peacefully, and as his one hand skimmed her arm, Leif mindlessly fingered the handcrafted pendant with the other, wondering if this might be a second going-away gift from Marta. The portrait being the first, and this one, a predeparture gift. Now that he had a clear vision of what he wanted to make for her, plus a new project that just jumped to mind—a cradle—he’d better get moving on that carving so he’d have time to tackle the second.

  With the insecure thoughts upending his peace, and because the right words hadn’t come, he had a sudden need to take her to bed and make love to her, to prove how he felt about her. And as Kent had strongly advised him, there was no time like the present to get his point across.

  Chapter Ten

  Right there on the living room floor, on the rug in front of the fireplace—a rug he’d always thought of as useless until this perfect moment—Leif’s desperate need to be inside Marta rushed things along. He stripped her and just as quickly undressed himself, leaving his new necklace in place so she’d notice.

  With roaming hands reveling over the velvet softness of her skin, the feel of her breasts and abdomen, he used his mouth to make love to her. He opened her and made her ready for him. From all signs, she was as frantic for him as he was for her. Naked except for her new earrings, she looked like a seductive muse. His personal work of art.

  He dazzled her with his tongue in all the best places, and when he settled between her legs, she dug into his hair, placing him just so.

  He glanced up, and her silky olive-toned skin was slick with sheen. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “So are you,” she whispered.

  Eager to please, he took her to the limit with his mouth, then, shifting upward, making eye contact before kissing her, he thrust inside, skydiving nearly straight off the cliff. First their bodies crashed together with need, but soon they found their rhythm and rode the flood of sensations on and on and on to the edge. Lingering there barely long enough to catch a breath, they fast-forwarded to whiteout bliss.

  When he’d recovered, he lifted her from the thick and fuzzy area rug on the hardwood floor and carried her up the stairs to his bed.

  Sweaty and spent from sex, they cuddled in bed under ribbons of full moonlight. Leif inhaled Marta’s scent—sex, sweat and cinnamon spice—wondering when she left if he would ever forget her fragrance or the taste of her.

  While they’d made love he’d noticed her baby bump had become more pronounced. Could the pregnancy grow that much from one week to the next? Was it crazy to wish the kid was his?

  Now fascinated with the growth, his hand wandered to her belly and rubbed lightly. Remembering his conversation with Kent that morning, he thought maybe it was time to test the waters on their relationship.

  “What are your plans after the mural’s done?” His hand went still on her pregnant tummy.

  She sighed. “I’ve got so much to catch up on back home. And no one knows I’m pregnant yet, so I suppose I’ll have to deal with that. I should make a special trip to Phoenix to tell my father, too.”

  He went onto his elbow and looked square into her eyes. “Just so you know, if you want to stick around for a while, the door’s always open here.” There, he’d said it. And now he held his breath. The thought had occurred to him on several occasions, yet he hadn’t had the nerve to approach the topic until Kent had told him he needed to. If he got a positive response, he’d mention the baby.

  Her breath went still, a cautious look formed in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, locking the now questioning gaze onto his. “Sometimes I wish things could be different.”

  He searched her eyes, trying to figure out the meaning of sometimes.

  “Sometimes? Like when you’re being logical or realistic? Sometimes when you want to run away from it all, or sometimes when you think about sticking around Heartlandia?” Or sometimes when you think you might be falling in love? The way he’d meant it and the way he felt.

  “All of the above.”

  He swallowed and pulled her close.

  Maybe sometimes was a sign she was changing her mind, and that was all he could ask for now. In that case, patience was what he needed.

  Yeah, too bad things weren’t different, but… “They could be.”

  She pulled back from the hug, and from the corner of her eye she gave him an odd glance. “Could be? What could be?”

  “Different. Things could be different.”

  “With the wave of a wand? Oh, I wish I believed in fairy tales.”

  Marta was an independent woman, unafraid to take on whatever life gave her. That was the impression she’d given him from the start. Under challenge in his personal life, Leif had withdrawn from the living; he’d curled into a ball and emotionally shut out the world…until Marta had forced him out. Marta, however, was a survivor. She didn’t need him or anyone to make her complete.

  Yet…sometimes. He held her tighter, wishing he could read her mind, still too unsure to say, “Why don’t we give it a try?” How lame was that when try was the weakest word he knew? A person either did things or they didn’t. The last thing she needed from him was a limp-wristed try. No. She deserved much better. “Is that how you see us, a fairy tale?”

  “Strange woman shows up in town, pregnant, meets a prince of a guy…and they lived…” She flopped onto her pillow, back of hand to forehead. “Happily.”

  It h
ad been her idea for them to get together—no strings. She’d made it very clear. And until he had more to offer than a good-hearted try, he’d have to honor that. “Sounds like a good story to me.”

  “As the saying goes—” she glanced wistfully at him “—we’ll always have Heartlandia.”

  She’s gone cynical. I already sound like a memory.

  “And the door will always be open.” His body ached for hers. How much longer would she be around to love? He reached out and found her, as heat and sparks and electricity arced over, around and through them, and he did the one thing they both perfectly understood—he made love to her again.

  *

  In the dark, after giving her body completely and unhesitatingly to Leif, Marta couldn’t get her hopes up. Leif had taken a huge risk by inviting her to stick around. It blew her mind. And she’d played it down. True, what he’d said had been a major step in the right direction, but there was so much farther for him to go and their time together was running out. He’d taken her offer of “just for now” to heart, even offered to extend it. But she was giving up on those open-ended relationships now, and she’d promised her mother.

  The baby had to come first from now on.

  But hadn’t Leif proved the other night, with his Chip and Dale story, to accept package deals?

  If only he could see the package deal waiting in his arms.

  Even though she’d been the one to lay down the rules, it would have to be up to him to change “just for now” into forever, the three of them. Because she couldn’t and wouldn’t set herself up for more heartbreak. Leif would have to be the one to reach out to her; this was his turf. He’d invited her to stay on, but what about the baby?

  Each day she found herself more and more open to the possibility of staying with Leif. He’d been the one to suffer the most from love and losing. She had to consider that and respect his reluctance to love again. She might be pregnant, but he had the biggest risk to take by opening his heart. And his invitation was a huge step in the right direction.

  Truth was, as bold a facade as she wore, she couldn’t take a second rejection for her and the baby. It would break her spirit, and more now than ever, her baby would need a completely strong and capable mother if it was to be just the two of them. She’d be the sole provider, and that was why Manny’s TV interview would be so important to her career away from Lawrence. Out on her own. Without a benefactor. Completely independent.

  Hers and Leif’s was a delicate situation. If she wasn’t pregnant, things could be different; they could be long-distance lovers, take things as they came. But she’d had a long talk with her mother. Maybe it was her turn to let her secret thoughts be known—that she was in love with him and expected more than “the door’s open.”

  Why not tell him now?

  “Leif?” she whispered.

  Leif had drifted off to sleep. Deep sleep. She wasn’t surprised after the vigorous effort he’d put into making love…twice. She smiled and lifted her head, then studied his face, having already memorized all the lines and angles. She painted his portrait from a photograph, but when her job was done, before she left Heartlandia, if he let her go, she wanted to be able to paint him perfectly again…from memory.

  *

  Manny Ortega made a big splash entry onto the college campus in his Sedona TV news van the Monday after Thanksgiving. The “La Cucaracha” horn honk nearly threw Marta from the scaffolding. She was putting some finishing touches on the panel depicting the town monument her grandfather had sculpted.

  After her heart settled and she figured out who it was, she waved.

  The van came to an abrupt stop and the short and wide Manny popped out from the passenger side. “Buenos dias, muchacha. Que paso?” His normally curly hair was cropped close to his head.

  “Hi. How are you?” She cleaned her hands, took off her mask and climbed down from the ladder scaffold. They hugged like old friends, though they were only acquaintances back home. She hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “So what do you think?”

  “Wow, this looks beautiful. You’ll have to paint one for Sedona. I know the perfect spot.”

  “To be honest, I prefer painting on canvas, but this has been a great experience.” She’d worn loose-fitting overalls in the hopes of playing down the pregnancy during the interview. Tongues would wag soon enough back home; she didn’t need to rush the gossip along just yet.

  “Don’t say another word until we get set up. Save all your thoughts for our interview, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  It took another half hour for Manny and the camera guy to prepare. In the meantime, Desi utilized the brawn of a couple of the college football players who’d volunteered to help slide back all of the barriers from the rest of the mural. Since the town-monument vandalism, she’d taken to leaving the rest of the mural covered, even when she worked on the newest panel.

  “Wow, this is something, mujer.” Manny stood, arms akimbo, gaping at all of her hard work, making her feel proud of the effort. “Let’s pan out from right here,” he said to his partner, using his thumbs and index fingers to make a frame and looking inside. Back to business, he spent a couple of minutes discussing the best shots and deciding where Marta should stand and what lighting was best. As they discussed the interview, Marta and Manny slipped easily into speaking Spanish, the language her grandmother had taught her, and once everything was settled, before she realized it the tape was rolling and she needed to switch back to English again.

  Halfway through the interview a figure moved through the gathering group of curious onlookers. She recognized Leif immediately. She glanced at him and he gave a friendly wave. Unable to do more, she blinked and nodded while answering Manny’s latest question.

  “What’s going to be your next project?” Manny asked, then moved the microphone toward her.

  Having a baby?

  “Well, a certain Sedona representative suggested I paint another mural for my own hometown.” Trying her best to be personable for the interview, she teased.

  Their interchange went on for several more minutes as he asked her to explain the meaning of each portion of the panel. Then he threw her a curveball.

  “So what will you paint for Sedona?”

  “Wow, I’ll have to give it some thought. Is that a real offer?” She grinned.

  “As a matter of fact it is. I’ve been given the go-ahead to tell you a secret donor has funded the town mural for Sedona. What do you think?”

  “I can’t believe it!” Her hands flew to her cheeks. “How exciting.”

  The camera moved in close, and from Manny’s ear-to-ear grin, he couldn’t have looked happier with her reaction. She’d faked it, though. The questions swirled in her head, and it took extra concentration to focus on the interview again. After a few more questions and answers the interview ended, and boy was she glad. Having never been through anything like this before, she was worn out and stressed. One thought in particular nagged at her.

  Was Lawrence behind this new offer, still trying to keep her under his thumb? If so, she’d never consent. Knowing who funded the mural would have to be included in her contract.

  Marta glanced up, searching for Leif in the group of onlookers.

  But he was nowhere around.

  They’d shared a wonderful Thanksgiving with Gerda, Desi, Kent and his son, Steven. But Leif hadn’t again broached the subject of her staying on after the mural again or becoming part of her package-deal condition. She couldn’t very well force the topic. It was a good thing she hadn’t told him she loved him. Opening his life to a ready-made family would have to be completely up to him. Because he was an honorable guy, she didn’t want to influence his thinking and have him do the right thing on her behalf, like accepting a package deal when all he really wanted was the lady.

  She’d spent the entire Thanksgiving weekend painting the mural undisturbed by students, other than the ones who’d volunteered to help. Because Gunnar had had some time off from the poli
ce department, he and Leif had worked nonstop on Lilly’s teahouse.

  These were good times. Thriving times. Yet their relationship had seemed to come to a standstill. Great sex, sure. The door had been left open for extending that, but there’d been no talk about the real future.

  “I’m staying at the Heritage Hotel,” Manny said after they finished the interview. “Why don’t you join me for dinner tonight?”

  Marta knew Manny’s wife of thirtysomething years from the artist guild and understood him to be a proud grandfather, so she knew this wasn’t a come-on. He was simply asking her to dinner.

  A part of her wanted to run it by Leif, which seemed absurd for an independent woman, but there it was. He’d sneaked into her life on yet another level. “That’d be fun. Thanks.”

  After Manny and his cameraman broke down their equipment and left, Marta couldn’t concentrate to paint anymore and the day was only half-over. When the students Desi had assigned showed up for their after-lunch detail, she asked them to help her put things away and cover the mural with Leif’s barrier on wheels.

  Who would fund a mural in Sedona? She hoped it wasn’t Lawrence and prayed it wasn’t Leif trying to get rid of her. She wasn’t ready to go home to Sedona, to face the people who didn’t even know she was pregnant yet. And the last person she wanted to ever see again was Lawrence.

  After her talk with her mother, she couldn’t very well leave Heartlandia without being straightforward and letting Leif know how she felt about him.

  Filled with confusing thoughts, restless and anxious, she took a short walk to think things through. More firm than ever, the only way she’d consent to paint a mural in Sedona was if Lawrence had nothing to do with it.