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The pretty thing nodded hard. “Just helping out during the holiday rush.” She smiled ear to ear and glanced up at Caleb. “You must be so excited! And you,” she said, looking at Maya again. “You look as if you’re due any day now.”
“Yes,” Maya said, at the same time that Caleb said, “Almost three more weeks.”
Maya looked at him and frowned. The waitress only laughed. “Sure, I understand! I’ve had three myself, and I always spent the last few weeks wishing it would happen and get over with.”
Maya slowly drew her suddenly suspicious gaze away from Caleb’s to look at the waitress. “You’ve had three? And you got your figure back?”
“Oh, honey, sure I did. You will, too, don’t you worry. Now, come on, let’s get you off your feet.” She led them to a nice table with plenty of room on either side, in a rear corner, with huge windows on both walls.
Caleb took Maya’s coat, held her chair, braced her arm as she eased herself into it. God, it must be hard carrying so much extra weight around. She wasn’t a big woman to begin with.
“My goodness, he’s good,” the waitress said. “Does he give you backrubs at night, too, hon?” She sent Caleb a wink. “Believe me, her back has to be screaming by now.”
“I believe it.”
She took their drink orders at last and promised to hurry back with their menus. But the second she left the table, Maya speared him with those gem green eyes of hers, and said, “How did you know my due date? I didn’t even think you knew I was pregnant.”
He blinked, searched his mind. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you just told that waitress I was due in just under three weeks.”
“You told her any day now.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “So which is it, Maya?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “Both. Full term would be January sixth—just under three weeks from now. However, my doctor has no doubt I’m going to go early.”
He blinked and felt a little bolt of alarm. “You mean…the baby’s going to be premature? Isn’t that dangerous?”
The waitress came back with their drinks. Milk for Maya. Mineral water for Caleb. She handed them their menus, smiled brightly and hurried on her way.
Maya was still staring at him. “It’s not early enough to be any cause for alarm, Caleb. Actually, early deliveries are common in cases like mine.”
He frowned at her. “And what kind of cases are those?”
“We’re getting off the subject here. You knew my due date right to the day. Now how did you find that out?”
He lowered his eyes. “Forty weeks…from the night we spent together. I was just guessing.” Lifting his gaze to hers again, he stared hard at her, watched her face. “It is my child you’re carrying. Isn’t it, Maya?”
It was her turn to look away. “No.”
“No?” Shock washed through him like a splash of ice water in the face.
“No,” she said. “It’s my child I’m carrying. Not yours. Not anyone’s. Just mine. Do you understand that, Caleb?”
He felt that ice water come to a slow simmer. “Hell, no, I don’t understand that.”
“Well then, let me see if I can explain it. You were a stranger, passing through town. We were a one-night stand. There was no relationship. No commitment. I got pregnant, Caleb. My problem. My situation. Not yours. You’re still just a drifter passing through. There’s nothing for you here.”
There was, he thought slowly, one hell of a lot more going on with this woman than met the eye. He resisted the urge to lose his temper. Not only because she was in a tender state, but because he sensed it would do him no good. “Maybe I need to rephrase my question?”
She shrugged.
“You were a virgin the night we made love,” he said, keeping his voice low, leaning over the table.
Her cheeks went pinker, and she looked away from him, focused on the view outside. Rolling meadows, lined now in dying grasses, and woodlands beyond.
“And according to the town gossips, you haven’t so much as had lunch with a man since. Most of them are going out of their minds trying to figure out how you got pregnant, according to the very talkative Ida-May at the boarding house. Even though a few may have seen us that night, the idea of the untouchable Maya Brand indulging in a one-night stand with a stranger seems to be beyond the realm of possibility.”
“It’s really none of their damned business, though, is it?”
