Mom In Waiting

His light brown hair was cut militarily short, yet retained just enough length to let her see traces of what used to be soft waves. He wore a pair of silverframed aviator-style sunglasses that hid his deep emerald-green eyes. At six foot one, he was much taller than she, even sitting down, and his dark blue polo shirt, open at the collar, stretched across a broad chest that proved he had more than a passing acquaintance with weight lifting.

Her gaze slid down briefly, noting his faded blue jeans and the slip-on deck shoes he wore. Yep. Gorgeous. She bit back a groan and deliberately turned her gaze back to the road ahead of them.

“Inspection over?” he inquired politely.

“Excuse me?” she glanced at him, feigning confusion.

“Did I pass?” He spared her a quick, amused look.

Obviously, he wasn’t going to buy her innocent act.

“Saw that, huh?” No point in denying what he’d clearly noticed.

“Subtlety was never your strong suit, Tracy,” he said and one corner of his mouth quirked into a half smile.

“Still not,” she admitted. Shifting in her seat, she gave him her full attention. “Though I rarely hide behind trees these days.”

His smile deepened.

“Anyway, I was just noticing that you really haven’t changed much over the years.” An understatement somewhere along the lines of “Gee, the Empire State Building’s a little tall.”

“You sure have,” he countered and shot another half glance her way. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I think.”

He laughed shortly. “Okay, that didn’t quite sound the way I meant it to.”

“It’s all right. I know what you meant.” A gust of air rushed through her open window, pushing her hair into her eyes. She swept it back with an impatient gesture.

She should be pleased, she thought. Wasn’t he seeing her exactly the way she wanted all of the people back home to see her? Changed? Grown up? Beautiful? So why did it irritate her that Rick Bennet was noticing the very image she’d worked so hard to portray?

Maybe because there was a part of her that wanted a man to be attracted to the real Tracy? She couldn’t help wondering what it might have felt like to have Rick look at her as she usually was, in jeans and T-shirt, and still think she was beautiful.

“So,” he asked, turning down the volume on the car radio, “how come you’re making the trip home?”

“Probably for the same reasons as you,” she said. “To see the family. Visit. Stroll through the school and see if it’s as hideous as I remember it.”

“Hideous?” he repeated. “I always thought you liked school.”

“Why?” she asked. “Because I studied all the time, got good grades?”

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “Yeah.”

A natural assumption, she supposed. It would never have occurred to him that she’d spent all of her time studying because she was too shy to make friends and too awkward to attract boys. School was the one and only place where Tracy shone, which had pleased her proud parents no end, but had also contributed to her nerd reputation. Of course, her doom was sealed when she skipped a grade. Not only was she younger than everyone else, but a geek, as well. Every time some teacher had held her up to the class as an example of what could be accomplished through actual study, the resentment level at Juneport High had escalated.

Her one real friend had been her sister, Meg, which had only made Tracy’s lusting after Rick even more awful.

“Talked to my mom last week,” he was saying, and Tracy steered her attention back to the here and now. “She tells me Meg’s pregnant again.”

“Yep.” Swiftly, stirrings of both excitement and envy rippled through Tracy. Deliberately, she pushed the latter into a dark corner of her heart, hoping it would stay there.

But oh, how she would have loved to be somebody’s mother.

“How many does that make?”

“This is her fifth,” Tracy said, smiling at the idea of another new baby to cuddle. The warm, solid weight of a tiny human being cradled against her was the sweetest feeling she could imagine. She’d have to take a couple of weeks vacation when the newest niece or nephew arrived, just so she could indulge her status of favored aunt—and, work out some of her own frustrated baby fever pangs.

“Five kids!” Rick shook his head and whistled to himself, low and long.

“What’s wrong with that?” she demanded, instantly on the defensive.

“Whoa, Aunt Tracy,” he said, taking one hand from the wheel long enough to hold it up in mock surrender. “I only meant it’s hard to imagine Meg—or John, for that matter—having five kids.”

“Oh.” Her protective instincts subsiding just a bit, Tracy said, “Okay. It’s just that a lot of people make a big deal out of how many kids she has. And I don’t figure it’s anybody’s business but Meg and John’s. Besides, who says the nuclear family has to be limited to 2.5 children?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not me. I don’t see the appeal in having kids, but like you said, that’s their business.”

“Good, because she’ll probably make sure you get to meet the whole brood.”

Rick’s eyes widened at the thought until he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, the very idea of being surrounded by kids was enough to turn the big bad Marine pale as a ghost. Still the confirmed bachelor then, she thought with a wistful sigh.

Not that she would ever have had a chance with him anyway. But she wanted a man who wanted the same things she did. Home. Family. A big, sloppy dog.

“You’re excited about seeing the kids, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said and grinned at her. “Your face lit up and there was a distinct gleam in your eyes.”

“I’m a very good aunt,” she said.

He looked at her again, this time thoughtfully. “I’ll bet you are.”

Rick had the feeling that Tracy was pretty damn good at whatever she did. She’d always had a soft heart. And, he might remember her as being an annoyance, but he also remembered just how smart she was. With perfect clarity, he recalled how humiliated he’d been to have a fourteen-year-old girl tutor him in geometry. Of course, without her help, he might still be sitting in Mr. Mofino’s classroom, staring blankly at the chalkboard as though trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphs.

Back then, all he’d wanted to do was play football and spend every other spare minute with Meg. She had been his first real love and he’d been sure that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

He pulled in a deep breath and let himself remember the night that particular dream had died.

It was the night after high school graduation. They were supposed to meet at the gym, then drive to Reno and get married. Stupid, he told himself now. But at the time, it had all seemed so romantic. So adult. Suitcase packed, graduation money in his pocket, he’d driven to the gym and parked in the shadow-filled lot to wait for her. Hours passed, and at first he’d assumed she was having trouble getting away. Then later, he’d found other, more complex excuses for her. At last, he fell asleep only to wake up as dawn filtered through the darkness. He was still alone.

Naturally, he’d driven straight to Meg’s. Convinced that only illness or a broken bone could have kept her from their rendezvous, he’d been surprised when she’d hustled out of the quiet house in her bathrobe to meet him on the lawn.

All these years later, he could still hear her voice, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry, Rick. But I just couldn’t go through with it.”

“But why?” he’d demanded, and made a grab for her, which she quickly sidestepped.