Because Of The Baby - Anne Haven Mills & Boon Vintage Superromance

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was between the couch and the coffee table. She took a few steps forward.

      He didn’t think. He just raised a leg, resting his foot on the side of the coffee table, barring her path.

      “Kyle—”

      She faced him. Their gazes locked. Something hot and electric and impossible passed between them.

      “Kyle, move.” She didn’t step over his leg. His bent knee reached the level of her thighs; she would have had to straddle him. But she didn’t pivot and go the other way, either.

      He ached to tumble her onto the couch, on top of him. To kiss her again. He ignored the urge. He looked up at her and said, “What about you, Melissa? Who do you lean on when times are tough?”

      Her gaze wavered, sliding sideways. She towered over him, spine straight, the cloth in one hand and the mug in the other, and didn’t give him an answer.

      “Come on, tell me. I want to know. Who takes care of you? Who do you turn to?”

      She shook her head. “Stop it.”

      He couldn’t. Suddenly he couldn’t stop himself. It had been building in him for two and a half months, he finally acknowledged. This restless, edgy energy. This urge to push against her emotionally, to shake things up and break things down, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Even though it could screw up their friendship.

      “Or is that just for other people?” he demanded. “For the weak ones?”

      “Don’t.”

      “I need to know the answer.”

      “You already know it.”

      “I do? Because it doesn’t seem that way to me.”

      “Damn it, Kyle.” She glared down at him.

      He blinked. Hell, it looked as if she had tears in her eyes. Oh, God. He’d made her cry. He was being a jerk and he wasn’t even sure what he was saying.

      Remorse and shame flooded through him. He dropped his foot to the floor. He raised his hands and pressed them to his forehead, a weary gesture.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass. I’m not myself right now.”

      He heard Melissa sit down next to him and sensed the couch shifting beneath her weight.

      For a moment she was silent. Then, “Me, neither.” The words came out as a whisper.

      Kyle wanted to take her in his arms right then. He wanted to comfort her, even though he didn’t know all the reasons she might need comforting.

      But he held himself back. She had her boundaries. He had to respect them. And she did accept his support in other ways. She did turn to him when times were tough.

      He wasn’t prepared when she spoke again. He hadn’t expected anymore from her. But she gave it to him, and it was more than he’d ever imagined.

      “I’m pregnant,” she said.

      CHAPTER TWO

      MELISSA HAD NEVER felt an earthquake before. Now she knew what it would be like.

      It would begin as a distant rumble; you couldn’t be sure it was real. Just a slight, subtle hum. But then you would start to feel the vibrations. You would realize the floor was shaking beneath your feet, the walls were shaking, the furniture was shaking.

      And the noise—that unearthly rumble growing louder and louder, gaining textures, piling up on itself, creaking, shifting, shuddering and shattering. A cacophony of sound.

      The books in the shelf near the TV, she thought, would tumble to the floor. The framed paintings on the walls would rattle and hang askew. Or slide down the wall, hit the floor with a bang. Plaster and paint would flake from the ceiling.

      Then suddenly the earthquake would be over, gone more quickly than it had come. Leaving behind a deafening silence.

      She looked at Kyle, sitting quietly beside her on the couch, his forehead buried in his hands. He hadn’t moved. An emotional earthquake had passed through his living room and he hadn’t moved.

      He didn’t even glance up. Rubble lay all around them—the rubble of their lives as they’d known them, their lives before this moment.

      Before they’d made love.

      Before she’d told him the truth. Before he’d known they’d made a baby together.

      Melissa set the mug and washcloth down on the coffee table. “Kyle, please. Say something.”

      He dropped his hands from his forehead and looked over at her. For a long moment he didn’t speak. They just stared at each other, trying to read thoughts through eyes. To understand emotions without words.

      “You’re pregnant,” he finally said.

      “Yes.”

      “From that night in July.”

      He didn’t need her confirmation. Of course he knew it couldn’t be otherwise. She didn’t exactly have a highly active sex life. At thirty-one, she’d had fewer partners than most eighteen-year-olds.

      Kyle massaged his temples. “I can’t believe this. We used protection. We were careful.”

      “No, we weren’t,” she said.

      If they’d been careful they never would have made love at all. She saw by his expression he knew what she meant.

      But they hadn’t been their normal selves that night. They’d each been running from something, each seeking a way to forget. And their solution had worked—temporarily.

      Now they had to face the consequences of their foolishness.

      “Condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective,” she reminded him.

      “I know. But I never thought—” He stopped, shaking his head. “How long have you known?”

      This was the part she’d dreaded. She didn’t want to tell him. She couldn’t explain or justify her behavior. “About—about six weeks.”

      “Jesus, Mel. That long?”

      “I wanted to tell you sooner. I just—couldn’t.” She felt overwhelmed. Overstimulated. As if she were having one of her sister’s anxiety attacks. She took a deep, calming breath and forced tense muscles to release and relax. “I’m sorry.”

      She stared straight ahead at the blank television. Kyle had a twenty-five-inch screen—almost double the size of hers—which was why they always watched The X-Files at his place.

      “It was right after my birthday,” she said. “I’m not…very regular, so it took me a while to figure it out.”

      “You haven’t been getting sick or anything. I would have noticed if you’d started throwing up every day.”

      “Of course. But not all pregnant women experience morning sickness.”

      “Oh.”

      She could feel his gaze on her.

      We’re going to have a baby.

      It was a thought she’d had many times recently. She would look over at him as they were working, or driving somewhere, or sharing a meal, and she would know she had to tell him. But the words had always refused to come. Her tongue had felt heavy and thick and incapable of forming the right sounds. She’d let the moments pass.

      Until tonight.

      “I don’t understand this,” Kyle said. “I don’t understand how you could—” He waved a hand in the air, momentarily speechless. His gaze pinned hers. “How could you act so normal? All this time. Six weeks, for God’s sake, you’ve known you’re carrying our baby.”

      Melissa

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