Then Comes Marriage Read online

  Then Comes Marriage is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  2014 Loveswept eBook Edition

  Copyright © 1993 by Bonnie Pega.

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 978-0-307-82256-7

  Originally published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of Random House, a division of Random House LLC, in 1993.

  www.readloveswept.com

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Dedication

  The Editor’s Corner

  ONE

  Liberty Austin couldn’t help but notice the man who’d just walked in the door. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

  “You okay?”

  She smiled at her best friend and labor coach, Deb Greenley, and whispered, “I’m fine, Deb, but”—she affectionately patted her swollen abdomen—“Cupcake here is getting restless.” She turned her curious gaze back to the man standing in the entrance. “Do you know him?”

  “Nooo, but he is good to look at, don’t you think?”

  Libby gave a noncommittal shrug, but privately agreed. He was a few inches over six feet and about two hundred pounds, and he filled up the doorway as though he were a giant. And his size had nothing to do with it—it was the self-confidence he exuded.

  She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were, but they were fringed with startlingly long dark lashes that might have made him look effeminate if his features weren’t so rugged. His lips were thin and sensual and currently curled in an uncomfortable smile as he murmured something to the very pregnant blonde at his side.

  Libby suppressed a sigh. She should have figured he was married. Single men seldom frequented Lamaze classes. Not that she needed another man in her life, she mused as she absently rubbed her side where a small elbow or knee prodded her. After all, she was still dealing with the aftereffects of the last man in her life.

  After four miserable years of marriage, she’d been left with the house, a stack of bills the size of the national debt, and Cupcake. Bobby, on the other hand, had absconded to Nassau with his nineteen-year-old secretary. Yet Libby felt like she’d gotten the better deal. Despite her occasional bouts of insecurity over the prospect of raising a child alone, she was still far happier now than she’d been in a long time.

  “They showed up just in time for break.” Deb grinned as Mabel, the Lamaze teacher, indicated juice and decaffeinated coffee in the corner.

  Libby got to her feet as gracefully as twenty-six extra pounds would allow, and followed Deb to the refreshments. “He looks like he’d rather not have shown up at all,” she murmured.

  “Definitely a fish out of water,” agreed Deb.

  A fish indeed. Libby had been fishing a couple of times in her life and she knew that there were the ones you threw back and the ones that were keepers. He looked like a keeper to her.

  Zachary Webster surveyed the room of pregnant women and sighed. He’d rather have been diving into a pool of sharks. Or entering a room full of the hungry corporate variety—he knew what to do there. He did it every day. Here, he just felt like a beached whale—flopping around futilely on the sand.

  He looked around the room again, his eyes alighting on a dark-haired woman with the porcelain complexion and tranquil countenance of a Madonna. He took in too many things about her to absorb them all at once—sleek, shiny hair that swung down her back, the lushness of her breasts, the delicate rounded curve of her cheek, the not-so-delicate rounded curve of her abdomen. Damn.

  “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going in?”

  Zac pulled his attention away from the mesmerizing woman and smiled affectionately at his sister-in-law. “You owe me for this, Hannah. You really do.”

  She smiled back and hooked her arm through his. “You’ll live, Zac m’dear.”

  “Ben should have been here with you,” Zac muttered. “He has no business—”

  “Well, he’s not here,” Hannah interrupted. “And you are.”

  “Lucky me.” He found his gaze again lingering on the Madonna. Silk and satin, he thought. Skin that looked silky-soft, hair with the sleek sheen of satin. Definitely the kind of woman who would be heaven to hold—and hell on his plans.

  When the break was over, they joined the other couples on the floor. The Lamaze instructor turned out the lights and began showing a film of a natural childbirth. As they watched the woman on the screen go through labor, Zac heard a feminine voice mutter, “I wonder if it’s too late to change my mind and go to the nearest cabbage patch instead.” Terrific voice, he thought, sexy-soft and laced with humor.

  He turned his head to see who’d made the remark, which he could wholeheartedly endorse, and met the dark blue eyes of his Madonna. Only they weren’t Madonna eyes. The merry sparkle belied the cool serenity of her face.

  When she saw his look, she gave a sheepish smile and shrugged.

  He caught his breath. Her lips looked as soft and pink as the blush on a ripe peach, and they were parted slightly in a delectable smile. It seemed to crawl inside him and heat him clear through. He had to meet her.

  “I’m Zac Webster,” he whispered. “And this is Hannah.”

  Hannah turned around. “Hi,” she said.

  “I’m Liberty Austen. Libby. And this is my labor coach, Deb Greenley.”

  Hannah winked at the other two women and said, “Zac’s brother said that when Zac was thirteen, he threw up when his gerbil had babies. How I’m ever going to get him into the delivery room, I don’t know.”

  Deb piped up, “How about a whip and a chair?” The three women smiled companionably.

  “Don’t you think you should watch the film and quit picking on me?” asked Zac.

  “Maybe you should watch the film,” Hannah countered. “You might learn something.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Zac muttered, and turned back to the film.

  Zac was a nice name, Libby thought wistfully, her eyes lingering on the back of his head. His dark hair looked as though it had been expertly cut and styled, yet unruly waves still gave his hair the appearance of having had impatient fingers run through it—or maybe a woman’s fingers. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked, then frowned at the sudden urge to touch it and find out.

  She squirmed, feeling uncomfortable about thinking about one man while carrying another man’s baby. Even though she and Bobby were divorced—and it had been over between them long before that—it felt like cheating.

  She pulled her attention to the film, which showed a tired, perspiring, but obviously elated couple cooing over the brand-new baby in their arms. Libby fought back a sharp stab of envy, and her eyes burned with tears. She’d have given anything to be able to share the birth of her baby with someone who loved her. She didn’t even want to think about all the other things she wouldn’t be able to share—the first tooth, the first word, the first step. Libby set her jaw and willed the always-looming loneliness away.

  When class was over, a group of couples decided to go to the ice cream shop next door. Deb excused herself, since she had to be at the office early the
next day, but Libby, always in the mood for ice cream—especially chocolate—went and found herself sharing a booth with Zac and Hannah.

  The two women hit it off with the instant camaraderie that can occur only between two women going through the eighth month of pregnancy at the same time. They compared notes on doctors, baby names, and swollen ankles, discussed the virtues of breastfeeding over bottle feeding and compared brands of diapers.

  And somehow, in between all the pleasant chatter, Hannah managed to ferret out all kinds of information about Libby. She found out Libby was divorced, a junior high school teacher, had a house not more than a couple of miles from Hannah’s, loved football, baseball, and art exhibits, and was allergic to strawberries.

  Zac watched his sister-in-law with amazement, tinged with a great deal of respect. Perry Mason couldn’t have learned so much about Libby. And the tidbits she was uncovering about the intriguing woman with the Madonna smile and hellion eyes interested him. For some reason, he felt both relieved and angry to learn she was divorced. He was angry because she had to go through her baby’s birth alone. He felt relieved because—well, he shied away from thinking about that.

  Funny, he liked football and baseball and art exhibits too. He wasn’t allergic to strawberries but didn’t like them very much. As Hannah continued her sleuthing, he found out that Libby loved old movies and read both science fiction and murder mysteries. So did he. He sighed. Just his luck to have to have so much in common with a woman who was eight months pregnant.

  “You and Zac certainly have a lot in common,” remarked Hannah as if echoing his thoughts. “Oh, did you know Tyler’s is having a sale on infants’ clothes Saturday? Do you want to meet for lunch and go check it out?”

  “I’d love to,” said Libby. She licked a last bit of chocolate from her spoon.

  “Then I’ll call you Friday night to arrange a time. Zac, it’s after ten. You said you had an early meeting tomorrow and you still have to take me home. Libby, where are you parked?”

  “Just around the corner.” Libby eyed the two of them speculatively. Take Hannah home first? Were they married or weren’t they? Hannah wore a ring. Zac didn’t, but then, some men didn’t. Maybe they were divorced or separated.

  Libby felt better at that thought. She liked Hannah a lot and had been feeling more than a little guilty at finding another woman’s husband so attractive. She was surprised she’d reacted so strongly to Zac. She wasn’t feeling exactly sexy these days. She felt too isolated, scared, and exhausted. And fat.

  After opening the door to his car and seating Hannah, Zac offered to walk Libby to her car. He cupped a hand under her elbow and headed in the direction she indicated.

  When Zac turned the corner and saw an ancient, dilapidated old Volkswagen, he paused. “Is that your car?”

  Libby stopped to dig her keys out of her purse, then turned and smiled at Zac. “Is something wrong?”

  “You can’t drive that.”

  “Why not?” she asked defensively. “She’s a perfectly wonderful car.”

  “She?”

  “Martha.”

  “You named your car?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Uh, nothing. It’s great. Terrific.” He looked from her well-rounded stomach to the front seat of the small car. How in the world did she ever fit in there? Of course, even eight months along, she looked willowy and delicate of build. He found himself wondering how she’d feel in his arms. Would she feel dainty and fragile or lithe and strong? He hurriedly chased those thoughts away. Fantasizing about a pregnant woman was just this side of weird.

  “Thanks for walking me to my car.” Libby opened her door and squeezed in. She turned the key and the engine came to life—complaining and wheezing all the way.

  “You sure that thing’s going to make it home?”

  “She just needs a tuneup,” Libby said, absently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Something about Zac, especially when he towered over her as he did then, made her feel delicate and feminine. She rather enjoyed the feeling too. It had been several months since she’d felt anything but ungainly.

  “It needs a lot more than that. Why don’t you retire it?” Zac leaned casually against the side of the car.

  “She and I have been through a lot together. She was the first car I ever had. I bought her from Dad.”

  “Was it the traditional ‘only got driven to church on Sunday?’ ”

  Libby grinned. “Considering my father’s a minister, that’s more on the nose than you know.”

  That grin did strange things to his insides. He’d thought her smile was disturbing. That grin was more so. It made him want to tickle her to see if she giggled, to kiss her to see how it tasted. Only he couldn’t afford to feel that way. It didn’t fit in his plans. And his plans were everything; they hadn’t let him down yet. The smartest thing to do would be to leave before he said or did something stupid.

  “Good night.” Zac turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Libby staring after him in bewilderment.

  Libby and Deb arrived late at the next class. When they walked in, the class was already involved in practicing relaxation techniques. Libby looked for a seat in the back, but Hannah waved them over.

  “I was afraid you weren’t coming,” Hannah whispered.

  “My car died,” Libby whispered back.

  “I knew it!” Zac muttered. “I knew that it was only a matter of time before that deathtrap-on-wheels quit on you. With a baby coming, you need to think about a more reliable automobile. Have you thought about looking at the new … ?”

  Libby tuned out his words, listening instead to his voice. It was the perfect combination of rough and soft—like the roughness of a man’s whiskers over the smooth, warm skin beneath. It was a terrific voice for whispering words of love and passion to a woman—or for talking nonsense to a baby.

  She called a halt to her wayward thoughts. She shouldn’t be thinking things like that, not about Hannah’s … Hannah’s what? Ex-husband? If he was Hannah’s ex, then Hannah obviously didn’t feel the least bit possessive, judging from the way she’d mentioned more than once how much Libby and Zac had in common.

  But it wasn’t so much what they had in common that disturbed Libby. It was that he made her acutely aware of not having had a man’s arms around her in months. Her breasts were so sensitive these days. She wondered how they’d feel crushed against a man’s chest—his chest.

  Libby forced herself to concentrate as the instructor talked about breathing. When it came time to practice, Zac glanced at her, and she managed a weak smile, wishing he’d look somewhere else. She felt like a complete fool going, “hee-hee-hee-hoo” with him watching. When he looked at her, she had enough trouble breathing at all.

  Their breathing session was interrupted by an electronic beep from Deb’s purse. Deb smiled sheepishly and slipped to the phone in the corner of the room. A minute later she was back. “I’ve got to go. I have a sixteen-year-old patient who got one of his bicuspids knocked out in a baseball game. This is what you get for having a dentist for a labor coach,” she said ruefully. “I’ll drop you off on the way to Mercy.”

  Libby shook her head. “You know darn well I’m twenty minutes or more out of the way. You go on to the hospital. I’ll get home.”

  “Sure?”

  “Sure. I’ll call a cab.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Hannah whispered over her shoulder. “Zac and I will see that you get home.”

  “Oh, no, really, I’ll just—”

  “Terrific!” Deb beamed. “Thanks a lot. I’ll call you later, Libby.”

  When Deb left, there were only a few minutes left in class, but they seemed endless to Libby. Especially when the instructor began talking about a position for making love that took the pressure off the abdomen. Libby swallowed and involuntarily looked at Zac, only to find that he was looking at her. She hurriedly turned her head and tried to appear nonchalant as she glanced around the room.

>   Meanwhile, the instructor went on to describe several other positions and Libby shifted uncomfortably, determined not to let Zac catch her looking at him again. Oh, Mabel, she pleaded silently, for heaven’s sake, please change the subject!

  As if Mabel had heard her plea, she went on to talk about something else. Orgasms. “A lot of women find they become even sexier during the last trimester of pregnancy because of the increased circulation in the genital area. Some women even say they become multiorgasmic.”

  Libby wanted to find a hole to crawl into. She was almost ready to fake an exit to the bathroom, when the instructor began talking about breathing again.

  She didn’t take in a word the instructor said, her attention fastened instead on Zac. She kept sneaking glances at him as he coached Hannah in her breathing during the final minutes of class. He was so sweet and patient with Hannah that Libby wanted to cry. She’d give anything to have someone like that with her during labor. Being around Zac was making her feel lonelier than ever.

  She brooded about that on the way home. While Zac and Hannah talked about class, Libby sat quietly in the backseat. She was so deep in thought that she was caught off guard when Hannah twisted around in her seat and looked questioningly at her.

  “What?”

  “I said, didn’t you tell me Saturday that you were planning on going to the pre-Columbian art exhibit tomorrow or the next day?”

  “Yes, I did. As a matter of fact, I figured I’d probably go tomorrow afternoon.”

  Hannah turned a triumphant smile to Zac. “See? I told you she was planning to go.” She turned back to Libby. “Zac said he was thinking about going tomorrow afternoon, and I told him that the two of you should go together. Right, Zac?”

  Zac nodded and politely offered to pick Libby up at one o’clock.

  Libby murmured her consent. Hannah chattered blithely on, until Zac pulled up in front of her house.

  “Oh, do you both want to come in for some coffee?” Hannah asked. “Decaf, of course.”

  “No, I have an early meeting.”

  “No, thanks.”

  Zac and Libby spoke at the same time. Hannah just smiled. “Okay, then, I’ll see you next week, Libby. Talk to you later, Zac. Bye.”