Montana (32 page)

“You've seen Dr. Shaver?”

Molly nodded. “He's got me on vitamins big enough to choke a horse. They don't come cheap, either.” Her grocery money would only stretch so far.

“You take them, understand?” Ginny insisted.

“Of course.” Molly didn't quibble over doing whatever was necessary for a safe pregnancy. “It's just that Sam doesn't need another financial burden right now,” she explained.

“You're looking at this all wrong,” Ginny said gruffly, patting Molly's hand. “This is
exactly
the kind of news he needs. That man of yours is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I bet you the first calf of spring he'll be so excited when you tell him I'll hear him all the way over at my place. He's gonna be so proud, Molly. Just you wait and see.”

Molly nibbled on her lower lip, wanting to believe Ginny. “You really think so?”

The older woman didn't express the least hesitation. “I know so.”

Taking her friend's advice, Molly planned the perfect evening. She arranged for Tom and Clay to spend the following Friday night with friends, thawed out a rib roast and planned the menu right down to a small bottle of champagne. One glass wouldn't hurt the baby, she decided, and it would do the mother a whole lot of good.

The champagne was on ice and dinner in the oven when Sam walked in the back door, looking exhausted. He didn't notice that she'd set the table in the dining room with china normally reserved for holidays and special occasions. Nor did he appear to realize that the boys were away and it was just the two of them.

“What's for dinner?” he asked, appreciatively sniffing the kitchen as he made his way toward the shower.

“Roast,” she said, eager to please him with a special meal.

“Smells great.”

Molly waited until he'd gone into the shower before she boldly opened the door and stepped in to join him. He sent her a shocked look, almost as though he'd never seen her naked. His astonishment quickly turned to a smiling welcome, and he made room for her under the warming spray.

“I thought I'd wash your back for you,” Molly said, reaching for the washcloth and bar of soap.

He hesitated. “What about dinner?”

She sighed; the man knew nothing about romance. “It's in the oven.”

“But the boys…”

“Are spending the night with their friends. We're alone, sweetheart. Just the two of us.”

A smile lit his face. “Why didn't you say so earlier?”

With the water pelting down on them, Sam backed her into a corner of the stall and his lips grazed hers. Molly wound her arms around his neck, and his hand slipped between their bodies to capture her breast.

This was heaven, Molly thought. This playful time with her husband. They exchanged small nibbling kisses that became more erotic, more intense. She barely noticed that the water had turned lukewarm. The soap and washcloth dropped to the floor, and she could deny him nothing.

Molly had planned a long slow seduction, but Sam wasn't interested in any of that. He soon had her pinned against the tile wall, her legs anchored around his waist, ready to receive him.

But raised as she was, the water hit her directly in the face and she was all but drowning. “Sam,” she sputtered, trying to twist away, fighting for each breath.

Once he realized her dilemma, he quickly reversed their positions so that he was the one with his back to the wall.

“I don't think this was such a good idea,” she said with some regret. They were both slippery and wet, and she found herself slipping out of his grasp.

“It's a wonderful idea,” he insisted, shifting the burden of her weight and holding her thighs more firmly. But it didn't work, and she started slipping again, banging her ankle against the shower door.

“Dammit,” she muttered irritably. This did
not
feel sexy.

He grumbled something about her gaining weight, but she decided to ignore the comment or, more appropriately, forgive him. Sam refused to give up and eventually they managed to arrange their bodies and adjust to each other for the optimum lovemaking position. Sam braced his shoulder against the wall, while holding on to her. Molly's back was to the water, with her knees against the sides of the shower stall for leverage.

Just when everything seemed to be working, the water went abruptly from warm to ice cold.

Molly let out a scream, but because her body blocked his, Sam obviously hadn't noticed the change in temperature yet.

“That's it, honey. That's it.” His eyes remained closed, but not for long as she squirmed and bucked in an effort to escape the freezing water. Her movements, however, did wonders for Sam, who closed his eyes, breathing fast. Finally she was able to move in a way that allowed the blast of cold water to hit him full in the face.

He let out a yelp of surprise, lost his balance and promptly dropped her. Molly landed in a heap on the shower floor while Sam reached for the controls and turned off the water.

Her dignity was hurt far more than her derriere; nevertheless, she wasn't pleased.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I guess so.” Because the soap had melted and the floor was slippery, she had difficulty getting back on her feet.

He opened the shower door, stepped out and handed her a towel. No sooner had she wrapped it around her than he took the smaller hand towel and began to dry her hair.

The towel obstructed her vision, but apparently that didn't worry Sam as he led her out of the bathroom. “Sam,” she said, swatting at the towel. “Where in the name of heaven are we going?”

He paused as if the question confused him. “Going? Honey, we're gonna finish what we started.”

“But—”

“You don't want to stop, do you?”

“It's just that I'm a little cold,” she said, shivering.

“I'll warm you, I promise. You game?” The hopeful need she heard in him was her undoing.

“I'm always game for you,” she told him softly, “and you know it.”

He rewarded her willingness by lifting her in his arms and carrying her into the bedroom. He groaned as he approached the bed. “You
have
gained weight, haven't you?”

“Sam.” She tried to kick herself free, but he wouldn't allow it.

“That was a joke,” he whispered, and kissed away any protest she might have voiced. His tongue stroked the curve of her ear as he pressed her against the bed. “Oh, baby,” he whispered, “this is the best idea you've had in a long time.” He stroked her hip and thigh and peeled open the towel. Taking a moment to smile down at her in the dim light, he gently kissed each nipple before his mouth sought hers. Again and again he kissed her, and in almost no time Molly had completely given herself over to the heat of their lovemaking.

Sam held her for a few minutes afterward, then brushed his lips across her brow. “Meet you in the kitchen,” he said.

Molly got dressed and, after combing the tangles out of her wet hair, she joined him. “This is a very special night,” she said, wanting to set the mood for her news.

“You can say that again,” he murmured, scooping some frosting off the carrot cake she'd made and licking his finger. “You certainly didn't need to go to all this trouble.”

“It's no trouble.”

He froze, and she noticed that he stole a glance at the calendar. “I haven't forgotten anything, have I?”

“No, of course not.”

“It isn't your birthday?”

“No!”

“Our anniversary's in June, right?”

“Sam, would you kindly stop?” She pulled the roast out of the oven and set it on the stove. “If you like, you can open the champagne.”

“Champagne?”

“On the table. And the crystal flutes are in the dining room.”

He picked up the bottle and seemed to be looking for the price. “This is real nice, sweetheart, but we can't afford champagne.”

“It wasn't any more expensive than a bottle of wine.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that's true. And it's not like we do this every night.”

He sliced the roast while she carried the dishes out to the table and lit the candles, then he brought out the meat platter and put it carefully in the center. “This is great.” He slipped his arm around her waist and kissed her neck.

“Thank you. I wanted tonight to be memorable.”

“It's already been memorable.” He pulled out his chair and reached for the platter of roast beef before she'd had a chance to sit down herself. Molly cast him a look she normally saved for the boys, and with an apologetic grin, he put the platter back down. When she'd spread the linen napkin on her lap, they smiled at each other. Sam poured the champagne, then helped himself to the meat, the potatoes and squash, the salad.

Throughout the meal, Molly waited for the right moment. She'd planned what she wanted to say, hoping against hope that Ginny was right. She had his reaction all worked out in her mind, too.

In her romantic fantasy Sam would fall quiet and look at her with adoring eyes. Then he'd clasp her hands and say something charming about how her love had forever changed him. That was certainly the way she
wanted
it to happen, but their evening had gotten off to a less than romantic start with their comedy of errors in the shower. True, things had improved later on, and the meal was going well. But this was too important an announcement; the timing had to be perfect.

Sam expressed his appreciation for the dinner over and over. He made every effort to show her how much he enjoyed her cooking, accepting a second piece of carrot cake for dessert.

He helped her clear off the table, and while she put on a pot of decaf coffee, he turned the radio on softly and sat in the living room to wait for her. Starting at nine o'clock in the evenings, the local station played light classics, fifties jazz, instrumental versions of popular songs—music that soothed.

“There's something I need to tell you,” Molly said, growing concerned the night would slip away before she completed her mission. That could happen easily enough, considering how nervous she was about it. She reminded herself that a new life was reason to celebrate, and that she and Sam loved each other. He'd be happy; she knew he would.

She carried in the tray of coffee and set it on the table. “Actually this probably won't come as a surprise.” Her back was to him as she poured them each a cup, adding a splash of cream.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“What I wanted to tell you…”

Silence.

She turned around and found him sitting in the recliner with his eyes closed, humming quietly along to the music.

“Sam,” she said again.

Seeing this might well be the moment she'd waited for all night, she set the coffee aside and nestled in his lap. His arms automatically came around her and he reached over to turn off the lamp, casting the room into a welcoming dimness. It wasn't hard to imagine her grandparents sharing a special moment in this room, the same way she was with Sam.

Pressing her head to his shoulder, she kissed the underside of his jaw. This was nice. Really nice.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

“Me, too.”

“Do you remember how eager we were to make love—”

A smile cracked his mouth. “What do you mean
were?
You can tempt me any minute of any day. What happened in the shower should prove that.”

She stroked his chest, loving his solid muscular warmth. His head leaned against the back of the chair and his eyes closed.

“These have been a hellish couple of weeks,” he murmured.

“But we're doing okay, aren't we?” She continued to kiss his throat, then moved her lips along his jawline.

“It wasn't you on that roof in a pounding rainstorm.”

“True.” She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped her hand inside. “You know, sometimes things that seem disastrous are really blessings in disguise.”

“Next time I'll let
you
crawl under the chassis and discover the transmission's shot.”

“I wasn't talking about the truck repairs.”

“Obviously.”

“There's something else.”

He went very still.

“But it's not bad news,” she added.

“Good, because I've had more of that than I can handle.”

With her head resting against his shoulder, Molly worried her lower lip, uncertain now. She wanted to believe he'd be pleased, but feared he'd look on the pregnancy as just another burden. As it turned out, she waited too long, because the next thing she knew, he was snoring in her ear.