Part 5 (1/2)
She tried putting her pillow over her head, then even yanked the blankets over that. It did no good. She was awake-ateight thirty-threein the morning, after having slept fewer than four measly hours. She knew thatLoga.n.u.sually woke around six.Which meant that in all likelihood, he'd been lying there for at least a couple of hours, actively restraining himself from getting up and starting in with his annoying morning-person activities. The only reason he would do such a thing was to give her a chance to sleep undisturbed.
It was thoughtful of him. And she should have been grateful.
But she wasn't grateful.
She was nine months' pregnant and she was tired and Logan Severance was driving her crazy with his will of iron and his musing I - know - something - you - don't - know smiles and his absolute refusal to accept that she was never, ever going to say ”I do.”
Lacey pulled the pillow closer around her face and muttered a few choice naughty words.
Couldn't he see that it would never work? Even if he returned her love, what possible chance did they have of making it as a couple? They didn't even get up at the same time.
He went back to the refrigerator-did he actually imagine she couldn't hear every move he made?-and put the milk away. Then back to the table again. He didn't sc.r.a.pe the floor with the chair, but it creaked when he sat down. His spoon clinked against the bowl.
When she found herself straining to hear him chew, she knew it was no use.
With another low oath, she shoved back the covers and reached for the tent of the day, a scoop-necked, ankle-length, teal-blue creation, which she'd left hanging on a wall peg along with her bra the night before. Her ballerina flats were right there, too, in the tiny s.p.a.ce to the right of the bed. She tore off her sleep s.h.i.+rt and put on the clothes, s.h.i.+vering a little with cold, realizing that he must not have built a fire after all, even though she'd distinctly heard him fooling around with the stove.
When she entered the main room, he looked up in mid-crunch. She didn't say a word, just went out the door and into the bathroom, where she relieved her overworked bladder and splashed icy water on her face and grumbled to herself in the mirror as she raked a brush through her hair.
Loganwas over at the stove, clattering the iron covers, when she reentered the cabin. He sent a smile over his shoulder. ”Now you're up, I'll make a fire.”
He rumpled a newspaper and fed it into the belly of the stove as she went to the old electric percolator on the counter by the sink, filled it with water and plugged it in.
”You're drinking coffee?” A frown ofdoctorly concern creased his brow.
She unplugged the pot, took the lid off and tipped it so that he could see inside. ”Just water. I'm heating water. For tea.Herbal tea. Does that meet with your approval?”
”Yes,” he said gently. ”As a matter of fact, it does.” He turned back to the stove. She took a tea bag from the canister and dropped it into a mug. Then, since it never took the water that long to boil, she just stood there at the counter, waiting for it.
”Are you hungry?” he asked, once he'd lit the fire and was carefully putting the cover back in place.
”I'll get myself some cereal.”
”Are you sure? Maybe an egg-”
She looked at him. The look must have said exactly what she was thinking.
”Not an egg person, huh?”
”Not in the last, oh, eight months or so.”
”I understand.”
She doubted it, but she decided not to comment. Soon enough, the water was hot. ”There's some instant
coffee, if you want it,” she muttered grudgingly as she poured the boiling water over her tea bag.
”No, thanks. The cereal's fine.”
She carried a bowl and spoon to the table with her. The cereal was already there. He went to the
refrigerator and got her the milk. Soon enough, they were sitting across the table from each other,
crunching away. Lacey tried to concentrate on her cereal. She took slow bites and she chewed thoroughly. She'd discovered, especially over the past month, when her entire digestive system seemed to have been crammed into a tiny s.p.a.ce between her swollen uterus and her lungs, that if she didn't eat slowly, either hiccups or heartburn would be the result.
”I tried not to wake you,” he said with regret, after a few moments of mutual chewing and swallowing.
She sent him a glance. ”But you did.”
”You're angry.”
”No.” She had to chew some more. He waited. Once she'd swallowed, she told him, ”I was angry when
you woke me up. Now I'm...” She sought the word. It came to her. ”...philosophical.”
He set down his spoon. He looked much too amused. ”You? Philosophical?”
She scooped up more cereal, poked it into her mouth. ”Uh-huh.”
He watched her as she chewed. When she swallowed, he said, ”I a.s.sume you intend to elaborate.”
As a matter of fact, she did. She nodded. ”It's just come to me. In a blinding flash of insight.”
He muttered, ”I'll bet.”
”I mean it.” She left her spoon in her bowl, braced her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her
hand. ”It has. It really has.”
”All right. I'll bite. What has come to you?”
Her stomach felt squashed. She arched her back, rubbed at the base of her spine, then settled into her
earlier pose, chin in hand. ”Our basic natures are at odds.”
”Meaning?”