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"That's incredible," he whispered, a catch in his voice, and it hit her that he hadn't understood exactly what he was fighting over. A human being. Genes and syringes aside, there was life inside her and he was just recognizing how very real it all was. That this wasn't a battle for rights and territory, but a battle over a baby. A tiny, helpless baby. Tessa was fast losing perspective. The heat of his touch and the savage look in his eyes chiseled at the courage she needed. In the space of a few moments, the man fought with her, proposed to her, then showed her a side of himself she never imagined he possessed. And she felt as if she'd just stepped off a roller coaster—dizzy, unstable. It scared her, this jumble of feelings, and as Chase applied pressure to her back, urging her close, she recognized want and hunger and need in herself. She was pregnant; she wasn't supposed to feel this way, was she? Yet still she leaned into him, still she let him touch her belly, still she ignored the customers whispering around them.
When Tessa covered his hand with hers, Chase felt emotion stir in him, a thick heaviness in his chest he hadn't experienced in all his thirty-five years. Unborn life poked at his palm. It was his child, letting him know he was there, involved, yet a separate entity from the mother. This child is a living, breathing part of me too, he thought. Me. And the baby needed him. His gaze moved over Tessa's belly, then up her body to her face, and she smiled tenderly. God, she was beautiful. And she was doing things to him, intoxicating things, with her buttocks tucked into his lap, the scent of her perfume and her skin, the look in her eyes. For an instant, Chase saw her in his bed, naked and damp and wanting. His hand at her back spread, moving upward, drawing her closer. His breath brushed her warm lips. So sweet.
Her eyes blinked open and she jerked back. "No. No, no, no." She pushed off his lap, scrambling for her purse, ignoring his help and repeating "no" over and over as she left him and the restaurant as quickly as she could. Chase watched her go, sinking into the chair. She couldn't have moved any faster if her life depended on it, and he smiled, silly and sappy. Several customers joined him.
"My baby," he said, gesturing, then leaned forward and braced his arms on the table, catching his breath. She felt it. God, he prayed she had experienced that electricity, because he felt fried down to his socks. And the only reason he didn't follow her was that the entire restaurant would know exactly what her squirming had done to him.
* * *
Three
Tessa slipped the purchase into a bag and handed it over to her customer, forcing her smile to remain in place as Miss Dewberry called out in her singsong voice from the dressing room.
"Coming," Tessa sang back, her shoulders drooping.
"I'll take care of her, Miss Lightfoot," one of her salesgirls, a college student, said.
"Thank you, but Miss Dewberry will only make you miserable, Dana," Tessa whispered. She'd find fault with everything the girl did, and Tessa didn't want her best clerk upset enough to leave. She needed her. Dana looked great in Tessa's designs and had a marvelous eye for window displays.
Dana conceded with a sour glance at the dressing rooms and turned away to assist another customer. Tessa snatched three more outfits off the rack and headed to the back of the store. She soothed the older woman's complaints and suggested another style. Tessa wouldn't put up with her moods if she didn't spend nearly a thousand dollars every time she walked through the door. Besides, being unmarried and childless at fifty must be hard. Though Tessa could understand why the woman was alone. Her aura was brown, as Tessa's mother would say.
"I think we should try a larger size," she suggested. "This pattern may run a touch small," she added, for the woman's expression was viperous. Tessa handed over the garments and leaned back against the papered wall. She wanted a nap. She wanted to put her feet up. And she almost cried when the door chime sounded again.
Sleep had eluded her last night, her mind constantly slipping to Chase, remembering the look in his eyes when he felt the baby move and the wonderful scent of him just before he kissed her. No, nearly kissed her, she reminded herself.
She couldn't let him seduce her. Not that she believed for a moment he was attracted to a pregnant woman with swollen ankles. He just wanted his baby. My baby, she corrected, refusing to be lured by his smiles and charm.
When Miss Dewberry popped out of the dressing room, displeasure evident in her pinched expression, Tessa prepared herself for the criticism. Pushing away from the wall, she inspected the fit, adjusting the delicate fabric over the woman's ample figure.
"It scratches, and this isn't the French lace I like," Miss Lila Dewberry sniped.
