Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

“How’s the hubby?” Ginny asked.

“Har. You’re funny. We’re casual, remember?” I’m casually head over heels for him.

“Sure you are. Who were you with last night?”

“Josh.”

“And the night before?”

“Josh. The evening before that, however, I went running with you, remember?”

“Because he was working. Just like tonight. And you two can’t make it through one measly evening apart without sexting. That’s not casual.” She grinned and folded her arms. “I’m done with this witness and I rest my case.”

“We’re not sexting.”

“Any nonurgent text exchange during which you picture him naked counts as sexting by my rules.”

Well, shoot, by those rules, she was, indeed, sexting. “If you must know, he had a perfectly legitimate reason for contacting me. He’s attending some big anniversary party for his old chief in Cincinnati next Thursday and he wanted to know if I’d join him.”

“A party a week away? You’re right, that is urgent. No way could such an important question wait until tomorrow. Go ahead and put his mind to rest. I’ve got to make a trip to the ladies’ room anyway.” She hopped off her barstool and put her purse strap over her shoulder, but then stopped and muttered, “Oh, shoot.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ginny leaned close. “Do you happen to have a tampon? I meant to stop at Dalton’s on the way over here, but my near-death, near-orgasm knocked my to-do list right out of my brain.”

“Yes, I’m sure I do.” She swung around, grabbed her purse, and followed Ginny to the restroom. Once inside the small room, she dug a tampon from her purse and handed it to her friend.

“Thanks,” Ginny said and disappeared into a stall.

“No problem.” Melody snagged the ponytail holder from the inside pocket of her purse and turned to the mirror. “I should probably stop at Dalton’s, too, because I’m due in…” Wait, something wasn’t right. She snapped the stretchy band into place while pages flew off her mental calendar. “I’m due in…”

Ginny walked out of the stall and approached the sink. “You’re usually ahead of me,” she noted as she washed her hands. “You’re overdue.”

She was. Dear Lord. She was late, and she was never late. Ever. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, no what?” Ginny dried her hands and met Melody’s gaze in the mirror. Her eyes rounded as the ramifications of the conversation sank in. “Holy shit, are you—”

“No. I don’t know.” She thought about the time in her kitchen, and the broken condom, and winced. “Maybe.”

“Holy shit,” Ginny said again. “How pregnant are you?”

“Shh! For God’s sake, keep your voice down.” She looked around the empty bathroom, knowing she was being paranoid, but unable to stop. “I don’t know if I am. What do you mean, how pregnant am I?”

“I mean are you Roger pregnant, or are you Josh pregnant?”

She bit back hysterical laughter. Roger pregnant? “Roger and I broke up months ago. I’m not Roger pregnant.” She took a deep breath and turned to Ginny. “If I’m pregnant, it’s Josh’s.”

“Whew. No offense, but I’m relieved.”

“Well, I’m not. We’ve only been seeing each other a month. We’re supposed to be keeping things casual, by mutual agreement. It would be best if I’m not anybody pregnant.” Even as she said the word

s, a soft-edged image formed in her mind, of big, tough, Fire Chief Bradley cradling a tiny blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, and her crazy, reckless heart—the one that really ought to know better—fell hard for the scene. Everything she’d always wanted in the past, with the man she wanted in her future.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that look again.”

“What look?”

“The dreamy, senior-year look”