Nobody's Baby But Mine

opposite knee and waved. Damn! Why couldn’t his parents have stayed away longer, like another two months or so? He knew he had to let them meet the Professor, but he’d hoped to postpone it as long as he could. Now his elderly wife had ruined everything with her morning’s trek over the mountain.

He glanced down. Her cheek lay mashed against his thigh, and her hair felt soft under his fingers. She was always so tidy, but now her French braid had pretty much given up the ghost. Silky blond tendrils tumbled over his hand and across the faded denim of his jeans. She sure did have pretty hair, even decorated with twigs and bits of dried leaves. The elastic band holding the braid together was barely hanging on, and he had to resist the urge to pull it off and loosen the rest with his fingers.

He knew he had to let her up soon, since she was madder than a wet hen and starting to sputter, but he kind of liked the idea of her head in his lap, even if she was spitting nails. He noticed that she didn’t have more than a speck of makeup left on her face. Still, without those glasses, she looked kind of cute. Sort of like seventeen going on twentyfive. Maybe he could still pass her off as-

As if she’d let him. Damn, but she was one hardheaded woman. He remembered how many times he’d wished Kelly hadn’t been quite so sweet. Kelly was a beautiful girl, but he’d never been able to have a decent fight with her, which meant he couldn’t ever entirely relax. One thing he had to say about the Professor-she sure knew how to have a good fight.

He frowned. Were his feelings toward her softening? Hell, no. He had a long memory, and he wouldn’t ever forget how she’d tricked him. It was just that he seemed to have lost the white-hot rage that had carried him through the first couple of weeks. Maybe it had finally burned itself out when she’d leaned her head against that tree trunk and told him she was taking the baby to Africa.

Except for what she’d done to him, he was beginning to realize that she was probably a decent person. Too damn serious and uptight as hell. Still, she worked hard-he’d seen lots of evidence of that from those equations she left like mouse droppings all over the house-and she’d made her way in a man’s world. The fact that she wanted to help Annie spoke well of her, even though it made things twice as tough for him. Maybe his feelings had softened a little. She’d been so upset today when she found out he wasn’t the dummy she’d counted on that he’d actually felt guilty. Her old man sure had done a number on her.

Once again he looked down at her and saw that a blond lock had escaped from her French braid and now curled in a figure eight over his zipper. He nearly groaned aloud. He’d been hard ever since he pushed her into his lap. Even earlier, if he counted that skirmish they’d had when they were lying on the ground at Annie’s. But instead of easing up, it was getting worse, and if she turned her head even a little bit, she’d see that his zipper wasn’t close to lying flat. No question about it. Fighting with the Professor had turned him on, and he was beginning to think it was time he did something about it. So far he’d had nothing but inconvenience from this marriage; it was about time he took advantage of its one convenience.

“Ouch! Damn it!” He snatched his hand away from her head and rubbed his thigh. “That’s twice now you bit me! Don’t you know that human saliva is a hundred times more dangerous than an animal’s?”

“I supposed you learned that while you were getting your summa cum laude degree in biology!” She struggled to sit back up and shoved her glasses on. “I hope you get gangrene and they do the amputation without anesthetic. And they use a chain saw!”

“I’m going to see if my house has an attic where I can lock you up, just like men used to do in the old days when they found out they were stuck with a crazy wife.”

“I’ll bet if I were eighteen instead of thirty-four, you wouldn’t be thinking about locking me up. You’d be stuffing me full of bubble gum and showing me off all over town! Now that I know you’re an intelligent man, your attraction to infants seems even more peculiar.”

“I am not attracted to infants!” He turned into the lane that led to the house.

“You certainly don’t seem very confident of your ability to handle a grown woman.”

“I swear, Jane- Damn!” He slammed on the brakes and reached over to push her back down on the seat, but he was too late. His father had already spotted her.

He cursed and reluctantly lowered the window. As he stopped his car well behind the muddy red Blazer, he called out, “What’s up, Dad?”

“What do you think is up? Open this damn gate and let me in!”

Great, he thought with disgust. This was just great, a perfect addition to a miserable day. He punched the button that controlled the gate, nodded at his father, and hit the accelerator, shooting past the Blazer too quickly for the old man to get a good look at Jane.

Those softer feelings he’d been experiencing toward her only moments earlier vanished. He didn’t want her meeting his parents. Period. He hoped it wouldn’t occur to his father to mention any of the activities that had been taking up so much of his time. The less Jane knew about his private life, the better he liked it.

“You follow my lead,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t let him know you’re pregnant.”

“He’ll find out eventually.”

“We’re going to make it later. A lot later. And take off those damned bifocals!”They reached the house, and Cal hustled her inside before he went back out to greet his father.

Jane heard the door slam and knew he was upset. Good! Mr. Summa cum laude deserved to be upset. Biting her lip, she made her way to the kitchen. When she got there, she pressed her hand over her waist. I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.

She plucked a few shreds of dried leaves out of her messy hair. She should try to straighten herself up before Cal’s father came in, but she couldn’t summon the energy to do more than push her glasses up on her nose while she tried to figure out how she was going to raise a genius.

She heard Cal’s voice. “… and since Jane was feeling a lot better today, we went over to see Annie.”

“Seems if she was feelin’ better, you might have driven her into town to meet your parents.”

She dropped her Windbreaker on one of the counter stools and turned to face the men coming into the kitchen.

“Dad, I went over this with you and Mom last night at dinner. I explained…”

“Never mind.” Cal’s father stopped as he caught sight of her.

Her mental image of him as a jolly old man with a round belly and fringe of white hair had dissolved the instant she’d caught sight of him at the gate. Now she felt as if she were staring at an older version of Cal.

He was equally imposing-big, handsome, rugged-and he looked exactly right in his red flannel shirt, rumpled slacks, and scuffed leather boots. His thick dark hair, worn longer and shaggier than his son’s, had a few strands of silver, but he appeared to be no older than his early to midfifties, much too young and too good-looking to have a thirty-six-year-old son.

He took his time assessing her, and she didn’t have any difficulty recognizing that straight-on, no-holds-barred gaze as a mirror of his son’s. As she returned his scrutiny, she knew she would have to prove herself worthy. Still, he gave her a warm smile and extended his hand.

“I’m Jim Bonner. Glad we’re finally getting to meet.”

“Jane Darlington.”

His smile disappeared as his eyebrows slammed together. He released her hand. “Most women around here take their husband’s name when they get married.”

“I’m not from around here, and the name is Darlington. I’m also thirty-four years old.”

Behind her back, she heard a choking sound. Jim Bonner laughed. “You don’t say.”

“I certainly do. Thirty-four and getting older by the second.”

“That’s enough, Jane.” The warning note in Cal’s voice advised her not to reveal any more secrets, but he might not have spoken.

“You don’t look sick.”

“I’m not.” She felt something brush her back and realized she’d lost the elastic holding her French braid.

“She started feeling better a couple of hours ago,” Cal interjected. “Must not have been the flu after all.”

Jane turned far enough to give him a faintly pitying look-she wasn’t going to support him in his lies-but he pretended not to see.

Jim picked up an X-Man comic from the counter and regarded it quizzically.“Book-Of-The-Month-Club?”

“Jane reads them for relaxation. You want a beer, Dad?”

“No. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

Concern drove away the caustic remark Jane had been about to make regarding the comic.“Is something