Take Me (Take a Chance 4)

Morgan laughed uneasily. “Maybe. I’m not sure. I never looked.”

Mike watched her, his curiosity piqued. She was hiding something. He could tell by the way she laughed just now. What was it? He paid for their drinks and led her to their hotel room. Outside the door, a swing sat waiting for them behind a fence. Once they sat down, he studied her. She kept taking small sips and avoiding his eyes. Yeah. Something was definitely up. “What’s wrong, babe?”

Morgan startled and turned to him, the straw between her lips. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re hiding something.” He leaned closer and played with the brim of her hat. “I know it, and so do you. Spit it out and get it over with. You’ll feel better.”

She took a deep breath and set down her half empty glass. “Fine. But don’t get all worked up. Let me finish talking first.”

He gripped his cup tight. Shit. He wasn’t going to like this. “All right.”

“Remember how I said I would be home for a year and wouldn’t be taking another role for a while?” She toyed with the strings on the side of her bikini bottom and ducked her head.

“Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, something came up.” She peeked up at him, then lowered her head again. “Something changed, that is.”

Since when was his Morgan so damn worried about how he would react? He’d been thrilled for every role she’d gotten. Hell, he’d even traveled around most of the country watching her perform when he could. “Why are you acting so skittish? I’ve never been pissed at you for taking a part before, and I won’t be starting now.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed tight, ignoring the surge of disappointment threatening to choke him. He’d known what he signed on for when he married her and he wouldn’t let her see how much he would miss her. It was part of their life. Besides, it was almost the end of the school year. He would be able to travel with her all through the summer months.

“It’s not that. You’ve been nothing but supportive.” She finally met his eyes. “But this role is a bit more permanent.”

“Okay…” He scooted closer and set his glass down next to hers. “Is it in Vegas? Or what?”

“Yeah.” She licked her lips. “And the rehearsal period is about nine months.”

“That’s a long time.” He cocked his head. “What’s the show?”

“It doesn’t have a name yet.” She tugged his hand to her stomach and laid it flat. “But we can pick one together, once we know more.”

His entire world spun around him, crashed to the ground, then floated back up to the fucking sky. “You mean—uh, are you saying…?”

She bit down on her lip and nodded, looking pale. “I’m pregnant. I know you didn’t want any kids, so I know it’ll be hard to accept at first, but I hope—”

He leapt to his feet and lifted her in his arms, slamming his lips down on hers. She clung to him, making a little moaning sound. By the time he pulled back, she was starry eyed and her lips were swollen. He grinned down at her and lowered her carefully to her feet. “I can’t believe this.”

“I know. Me either.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think it’s from when I was on antibiotics last month. It messed with the pill.”

“Are you okay with this?” He gripped her shoulders, trying to swallow back his own excitement until he could make sure she was okay. “I know you didn’t want kids until your career was over.”

“I’m actually really happy.” She gave him a hesitant smile. “I didn’t think I would be but I’m ready. I want to be a mom. Want to see what our baby will look like. Are you happy?”

“Happy doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling,” he said, spinning her in his arms one more time. “I’m fucking ecstatic.”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “You’ll have to cut back on that. Garrett’s right.”

“I will. If I can keep my language clean at school then I’m sure I can keep it clean at home,

too.” He nibbled on her finger. “But I have nine months to worry about that. Until then…”

She tugged him back toward the bedroom, her eyes smoky and dark with promise. “Yeah?”

“Until then, I can say…” He picked her up, carried her inside the hotel room, and gently tossed her on the soft bed. Crawling between her legs, he dropped a kiss on her belly. “I fucking love you, babe.”

“I fucking love you, too,” she murmured, love shining in her eyes. “But I’m not becoming a dance mom. And I’m not quitting dancing altogether.”

He grinned and undid her bikini bottom. “Of course not.”