Page 25

Author: Robyn Carr


“It’s good,” she said. “Bland, but good.”


“It’s fine, Abby. And there’s ice cream if it’s not bland enough. What movie did you decide on?”


“What Women Want. Mel Gibson.”


“I better pay attention to that one,” he laughed. “I seem to be deficient in that department.” When they’d finished, he picked up their trays. “You can start it or wait for me to do dishes, your choice.”


“I’ll wait,” she said. And once the water was running in the little kitchen, she murmured, “And you’re not deficient in anything.”


It was dark in the little cabin but for the light from the portable DVD player. She had set it to play repeatedly, so had no idea when they might have fallen asleep, but the romping of babies woke her. Cam had slipped under her legs, resting them on his thighs to keep them elevated, so she was too cozy to stay awake. She looked over at him and had to stifle a laugh. His feet were up on the trunk, his head tilted back, his mouth open, and his hand snaked under her sweatshirt to feel her belly. But the movement of the babies hadn’t roused him. Yet.


She pressed her hand over his and watched him. He slowly came awake, closing his mouth, sitting up, meeting her eyes.


“Oh. Sorry. I must have done that in my sleep.”


“It’s all right,” she laughed. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”


“No,” he said through a yawn. “Was it a good movie?”


“I don’t know,” she said. “We both bit the dust. Me, from tension probably. And you, from working yourself to death to stay ahead of my tension.” Then she sighed. “My children are up.”


“That’s not a good sign. It would be better if they slept when we slept.”


“We have to go to bed,” she said. “It could be three in the morning. I’m afraid to look.”


He stood up and put out his hand. “Come on, sleepyhead.”


When she stood from the couch and faced him, she looked into his beautiful blue eyes and said, “Would you like to sleep next to your children?”


His eyes were startled, his mouth agape.


“It won’t be like the last time,” she hastened to promise.


He smiled slowly. “It will be even better,” he said, slipping his hand over her belly. “Whoa,” he laughed.


“It’s up to you.”


“I wouldn’t pass up an invitation like that. I’d like to feel all of you up against me, cozy and safe.”


“Then come on.”


Abby had her turn in the bathroom first and when Cam came out, she had changed into a huge T-shirt that came almost to her knees and, he assumed, panties. So he stripped down to his boxers and crawled in, curling around her back. “Nice,” he whispered against the back of her neck.


“Mmm,” she hummed, snuggling in.


His hands found her belly and rested there and sleep found him, content and confident for the first time in so long. He was going to make this work. Yes, he was.


In the early morning he woke and he was facing her, her head on his arm, her breath on his cheek, her belly against his belly. And one hand under her shirt, cupping her bare breast. And a huge, throbbing, early-morning erection in his boxers. He pulled his hips away from her first, then slowly removed his hand. Whoa, shit, he thought. That would probably ensure this was his last visit to her bed. But what was he supposed to do? He couldn’t control what he didn’t know he was doing. But still, there must be a way to assure her that he’d never… That he knew she was as big and ripe as a full-term mother…. That it wasn’t necessarily that he wanted… But of course he wanted her, but he didn’t have to… Oh God, he couldn’t figure out how to get out of this embarrassing situation without offending her, insulting her. Or scaring her to death.


He gently pulled his arm out from under her and headed for the shower.


Cameron beat Mel to the clinic in the morning. While she was bright and cheerful, he was awful quiet. He busied himself at the computer. When she asked him what he was doing, he said, “Car seats. We need two car seats and Abby just about wore herself out shopping in Eureka yesterday, so I told her I’d look online.”


“Oh,” Mel said. “Good idea. I guess a pediatrician knows what to look for.”


Two hours and two patients later, he was still acting as if something was wrong. So she went head-on, as she was known to do. “What’s eating at you? You’re all funky and weird, like you and Abby have a problem or something.” He ducked his head. “Oh, you and Abby have a problem. What’s the matter? Can I help? Is the pregnancy all right?”


“I don’t think you can help,” he said, turning away from her and heading for the kitchen.


She followed him. “You don’t really know, though, do you? Until you run it by me?”


“It’s kind of embarrassing,” he said, not facing her.


“For God’s sake, I look at cracks and talk about sex for a living. You can’t embarrass me.”


He turned around. “I was thinking it would be embarrassing for me.”


“Well, get over it. I’m your midwife.”


He took a deep breath. “Abby and I are getting along very well. It’s incredible. Better than I thought it could be. We’re so compatible. And last night I slept beside her, holding her and the babies….” He dropped his chin.


“Aw,” Mel said. “That’s sweet. I’m so happy, Cam.”


“And woke up with my hand up her shirt and with the biggest hard-on.”


Mel looked momentarily perplexed. “I’m sorry. Did I need to know that?”


“I can’t believe how much just being near her is getting to me. I can’t let her think that— I mean, I let her think it would be completely safe for me to just lie beside her and… Aw, Christ. I have no control at all. What a damn mess.”


“Cameron, take it easy. Most of that’s just nature. Huh? It happens all night long. I’m sure Abby knows that.”


“It’s not just happening when I’m asleep. I really have a problem here. I’ve wanted that woman since the first second I saw her, but she’s in no condition for me to want her like that. What kind of man wants to… I mean, I won’t touch her, I swear I won’t. But if she thinks she’s not safe from my instincts, then I’ll be sent back up to the loft. And I don’t want to go back up to the loft!” He took a breath, shook his head dismally. “I should probably go back up to the loft.”


Mel’s face cracked into a huge grin. “My goodness. The Madonna syndrome? You?”


“What?”


“The mother of your children can’t also be a sexual human being?”


“Not if she’s ripe as a tomato! She’s thirty weeks! With twins! It would be irresponsible to— You know we don’t want a lot of action down there.”


“Cameron, surely you have a better imagination than you’re letting on. I mean, there are a few alternative methods of sharing affection that don’t involve intercourse. But of course I agree—intercourse now is probably not the best idea, even though we’re not necessarily concerned about early labor. Yet.”


“We don’t have that kind of relationship. At least, not now. We agreed to share this space so I could be there for her. So we could have them together and rely on each other. Not so we could explore alternative methods of affection, by which I’m sure you mean manual or oral.” He ran a hand over his chest as if wiping it dry. “She probably shouldn’t play around with orgasms anyway. That’s all we need is a little early labor now.”


“Hey, this is something for you to talk to her about,” Mel said. “You afraid you’ll shock her? Didn’t you get her pregnant? Isn’t she aware you have a healthy libido?”


“I’m pretty sure she has no idea how healthy. Really, I wasn’t prepared to find her sexier than ever. She can’t even get up off the couch without a hand and I’m ready to spring into action and—” He stopped himself. “Jesus.”


Mel just chuckled. “Listen, while she’s feeling big as a cow, I doubt she’d be insulted to learn she actually turns you on. Know what I mean? It might lead to some meaningful communication, which it sounds like the two of you could use.” But she couldn’t help herself. She chuckled again and put a hand over her mouth.


“You don’t have to laugh at me,” he groused.


“Aw, I think you’re cute. Talk to her. You said you’re getting close. Tell her how you’ve been feeling, et cetera. And you can also explain why it’s not an excellent idea to have a wild romp in the hay just now. But you don’t have to be embarrassed by your feelings and frankly, I don’t think a little orgasm or two would hurt. You’re not tempting fate for at least a couple more weeks. Desiring her when she’s in this phase of motherhood—that’s sweet.” She shook her head. “Jack sure didn’t have this problem. He wasn’t embarrassed by his feelings. Frustrated by them, yes. Embarrassed? Pah.”


“Maybe Jack is the guy I should be talking to….”


Mel lost every trace of humor. “Okay, I have to draw the line there. You can’t do that. Jack might say too much—he’s been known to do that once or twice. And I can’t have you conjuring up pictures of me in—” She straightened her spine. “I’m your boss, I think. I am, yes I am. You’re the doctor, but it’s my clinic. I can’t have you picturing me in compromising positions, even if they might help your pathetic sex life, because I’m your boss.”


He just grinned largely, happily. As of her last words, he didn’t need Jack’s input to drum up an image or two. Her turn to squirm. She’d certainly enjoyed his discomfort, but all he said with regards to hers was, “Why, Melinda. Hmm.”


As the April afternoons became warmer and perfect for riding, Muriel rode along the river with Vanessa and Shelby while Walt watched the baby. It was Muriel’s last day in Virgin River and spending time with the girls had become almost as important as spending it with Walt. And spring in the mountains was exhilarating; bright green with a smattering of colorful wildflowers along the riverbank. They rode along at a leisurely pace, enjoying the fresh air and conversation.


“Is there a date set for the wedding yet?” Muriel asked Shelby.


“No, not exactly. We can’t figure out when to do it, where to do it. Luke still has two brothers in the Middle East. I think we should wait for them to get home and he thinks we’d better hurry.”


“What’s the hurry?” Muriel asked.


“We want to have a baby,” she said, smiling.


Muriel just frowned. “Shelby, you’re so young—you have lots of time. It’s not like your clock is ticking.”


“I know,” she laughed. “Luke’s clock is ticking. He’ll be thirty-nine next month. He’s afraid he’s going to be going to high-school football games with a walker.”


“Oh,” she said. “Don’t you want to have a little time with him first? Alone time? Before you add a baby to the mix?”


“I wouldn’t mind that, but I get his point. I’m just so pleased he’s going along with the family idea, I’m being cooperative.”


“And school?” Muriel asked.


“The nursing program officially starts in September, but I’m going to take classes this summer to get a head start. There will be an orientation day in June and I can take Luke with me, but I had a tour already. The students in that program are men and women, all ages, and I mean all ages—from eighteen to fifty. The only thing I had to work out with Luke is that he’s going to be a totally involved father and not leave it to me to manage all the child-care issues alone so I can go to school.”