A Mother's Secrets (Parent Portal 4)

An immediate picture of his strong thighs, his tight and perfectly shaped backside, came to mind. She shouldn’t have asked. Had had no valid reason to do so.

And had to figure out how she was going to make this work. Seeing him. And yet not seeing-seeing him.

“Okay, so more flexible. You want to just play it by ear? Call when you have a minute and see if I’m free?” She wasn’t going to be in about five minutes since she had an appointment.

Yes. Think about work, about others... That had always been her panacea.

“I’m fine with setting up dates. I’d just like to vary the times of day, and the days of the week if we could. You know, so the baby hears my voice throughout the day, or, at least, hears it at night sometimes, in the morning sometimes...”

It made perfect sense. This baby wasn’t going to have a mother. It most definitely deserved all the help she could give it bonding with its father.

When she realized she was cradling her flat stomach again with her free hand, feeling the same kind of ownership she’d felt with Ryder, she sat up to her desk.

Concentrated on the issue at hand. Being more flexible fit her better. She lived a fluid life. Told Jamie so. And offered to be free that evening to further discuss.

Somehow, in the hours in between, she was going to have to figure out a way not to like him and his baby quite so much. How to care for the baby without caring—caring for it.

The situation was understandably emotional. But those emotions were situation based, not lifelong commitments.

She was the professional here. The one doing a job. So it was up to her to keep the situation from spiraling out of control. To remember that he’d hired her body.

Not her heart.

* * *

Christine called just before five to say that she’d have an hour in between work and an evening commitment and he was welcome to drop by her place for their chat.

“I’m actually at the college of art here in town, in the middle of hanging art on the walls of the classroom. Can you meet me here?” he asked. And then added, “I thought maybe it would be good if you could visit me in my world, maybe once a week at least, if that works for you, so that the baby becomes familiar with the surroundings.” It all sounded slightly hooey to him, but he’d read a lot about the importance of environment during pregnancy. Professionals in the field seemed to pretty much agree that babies were affected, at least somewhat, by things that went on outside the womb during their gestation.

Even if it didn’t help, it couldn’t hurt.

Christine had agreed immediately, and he was outside in the parking lot, waiting to lead her into the building that housed his classroom and small office. While classes hadn’t yet started, first year students were moving into dorms, preparing for orientation, so the campus had a sense of life about it. His building was completely empty, though, and he let them in with his security card.

He’d seen her just three days before, and yet it was all brand-new again, the sense of life picking up when she was around.

Because she was carrying his child. He knew that his attraction to her was because she was pregnant with his baby. Just like he’d have felt a new and energized attraction for Emily had she lived and was the one bringing their family to life. It was natural.

But that skirt she was wearing—purple, black and blue little flowers on a white background—the way those flowers molded her, flowed around her calves with every step she took...

He pulled at the hem of the T-shirt covering the blue shorts he’d put on, making sure that it covered any evidence of how much he liked that skirt. And the ribbed top... It was sinful, really, the way the fabric outlined those breasts so perfectly. Hugged them so softly.

The way he was reacting to her was sinful. One thought of the child who would be setting up his classroom with him the following year—probably in a swaddle attached to his body—and he had himself under control.

“So what are we doing here?”

With a shard of guilt spearing through him, he turned to look at Christine. Oh God, if she’d seen, or sensed... He wasn’t a creepy guy. Didn’t ever get all het up over the mere sight of a woman. Not even Emily. He saw younger women, with great bodies and far fewer clothes, pretty much every day during his run on the beach. Found them attractive, of course. He was human. But he didn’t struggle to keep his reaction to them under control.

Generally, his body just minded its manners on its own.

Christine wasn’t looking at him at all. She’d picked up one of the several pieces of art lying along a bookshelf that lined one whole wall of the classroom.

“I teach math to art students,” he told her. “Right brain, left brain. Opposite ends of the spectrum, to some. But in reality, art and math are encompassing visual depictions of the universe around us...”

He stopped. Emily used to glaze over when he got his Math on. As did a lot of people. “Sorry,” he said. “I forget sometimes that numbers, measurements, spatial science and the way they all depict the world isn’t all that exciting to the general population.”

She’d moved to a canvas with geometrical shapes. On the surface that’s what it was. If you stepped back and looked at the colors, you’d see a face there. And a single tear. “I’m intrigued.”

“I use art to teach mathematical concepts,” he said. “Or rather, I challenge my students to use their art to show me the concepts I’m teaching them. I’m not an artist. At all. These were all final exams.”