Call of the Wilds (14 page)

Why give the locals a reason to gossip when it would all add up to nothing anyway? Her nerves had her imagining all kinds of things. She felt stupid even taking the test. Her cycle was a little off, and she had a stomach bug, hardly reasons to suspect a pregnancy, but why worry about it when she could put her fears to rest? She had enough on her plate.

She worried about the pack. No one had seen the missing wolf, but the hunters were out every day, armed and ready to take her down. One wolf was as good as another to these men, and her wolves were sitting ducks. If someone claimed a wolf escaped the enclosure, who would doubt them besides her?

If only she could talk to Malcolm, but he had written her off. She blamed herself for hurting his masculine pride, and she had made the first move. He never returned her calls. At first, she wasn’t upset. She fully expected him to show up in the enclosure. She’d chastise him, and he would flash his crooked grin, and they would have make-up sex. Two weeks went by. When it didn’t happen, she knew it was over.

He left her with an aching heart. Malcolm made her happy in a way she hadn’t been in a long time, and now, she had a void in her life she couldn’t fill with work. Her feelings hadn’t diminished one bit. Maybe they never would. At least she didn’t have the nightmare anymore. Now she lay awake reliving every minute they spent together, wondering what she could have said or done differently.

Then she got this crazy idea in her head that she might be pregnant, an impossibility of epic proportions. She’d only been with Malcolm, and he told her himself he couldn’t have children. The look on his face convinced her he told the truth, but he could be mistaken. Maybe he had a vasectomy and it didn’t take. It wouldn’t be the first time.

More likely she imagined her symptoms, hoping a baby would bring Malcolm back. It must have been a false pregnancy. She was a head case for sure, and the best way to cure herself of pseudocyesis would be a pregnancy test. With a negative result in front of her eyes, she could put this behind her.

She spent so much time in the drugstore, the pharmacist started to look at her funny. She had no idea there would be so many tests to choose from—evaporation lines, ghost lines, bold lines, faint lines. It took forever, but she finally found what she needed—a reliable, sensitive test guaranteed to give a result one day after a missed period.

“Good choice.” The very pregnant young cashier picked up the box and scanned the price. “It worked for me.” She looked down at her huge belly and laughed. “Obviously.”

Karin felt her face go hot. Try as she might, she could not imagine herself with such a big belly.
Get a grip, girl. It’s a real possibility. The stork doesn’t bring them.
She grabbed her bag and ran.

The test almost went in the trash, but she’d already gone to so much trouble to buy the damn thing. She removed the testing device from its foil wrapper and followed the directions.

Her heart pounded with each tick of the clock. The control line appeared, but the rest remained too wet to read. Holding her breath, she watched as a faint line came up, becoming more visible as it dried. No imagination could conjure up the solid line on the test strip.

For a minute, she heard nothing but the wild thumping of her heart. Disbelief turned to shock. Shock turned to panic.

Oh my god! I am so screwed.

The fatigue, nausea, swollen breasts, and darkening nipples were not products of an overactive imagination. While Malcolm was avoiding her, his sperm was racing through her reproductive system until a lucky winner hit the jackpot. Now the little ball of cells, a unique combination of both of them, was safely planted in her uterus and releasing the hormones that made her test positive.

Caught between terror and awe, she paced around the tiny cabin. No way could she raise a baby here. Who would watch it while she worked? Thoughts of work brought up other issues. She laid a protective hand on her stomach.

I promise to clean up my act, little one. No more late nights. No reckless driving. No skipping meals. No coffee.

No coffee? Now that one would be tough. Somehow she would make it all work. She would never give up her baby.

Her baby!

Her baby and Malcolm’s. She didn’t do this by herself. She clamped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. How would he take the news?

* * * *

This was a bad idea—for so many reasons. First of all, she got lost. She had only a vague idea where Malcolm lived, and everything looked the same out here. If he answered her calls, she could have saved herself this trip. Not that she would tell him over the phone, but she would have asked him to come see her.

Good thing she didn’t run right over yesterday like she wanted to. She would have been driving around in the dark. She didn’t want to wait for fear she’d lose her courage, but then logic prevailed, and she decided one more day wouldn’t matter.

She drove so slowly. She realized at this rate it would take her all day to find his place. She could probably walk faster, but when her motherly instincts kicked in, they came with a vengeance. She swore she would take her time and not put her baby in danger with her crappy driving skills. Hopefully, she’d find the house before she lost her nerve.

Malcolm had a right to know about his impending fatherhood. Even more important, her baby had a right to know. If she didn’t tell them, her child would hate her one day.

She would never want to keep them apart. If things had worked out differently, they’d be a real family. She was spinning pipe dreams. But, even if Malcolm didn’t want her, wouldn’t he want to be part of his child’s life? When reality set in, she welcomed this chance to be a mother. Surely Malcolm would welcome fatherhood.

She didn’t want him to feel obligated to her because of the baby, so she decided to make one last attempt to convince him they belonged together. She would seduce him, and if all went well, she would tell him about the baby. They would live happily ever after, and she would know he really loved her and wasn’t just sticking around for the baby. If it didn’t work out? Well, she’d tell him anyway.

If he didn’t believe her or didn’t want any part of the baby’s life, then so be it. At least she tried. She would raise her baby on her own and do everything she could to make it feel loved. She just hoped she wouldn’t dissolve in a puddle of tears because her hormones wrecked havoc with her emotions.

Damn. The pines grew so close, and the brush was so dense it reminded her of King Minos’s labyrinth with Malcolm the Minotaur waiting at the end. She closed her mind to thoughts of mythical creatures—half-man, half-beast—and tried to concentrate on avoiding logs and rocks in her path.

She almost turned back when she spotted a badly overgrown trail and decided to take it. She tunneled through the growth and vegetation and came out in a clearing. Her first full look at his house left her in awe. The classic A-frame looked three times bigger than her place. It belonged in
Architectural Digest
with its side-gables and deep-set eaves over large expanses of glass. The views would be spectacular.

She stepped onto the wrap-around porch, complete with two Adirondack chairs, and rapped on the door before she could change her mind. It opened, and Ralf greeted her, sniffing her feet, and obviously glad to see her. She got to her knees and let him lick her face.

“Your mother’s been taking good care of you.” Her laugh died away when she spotted the scuffed boots behind him. By the time she stood to confront him, she burned as hot as if she’d been under a tropical sun all day.

Chapter Fourteen

She wanted him. He sucked in a harsh breath, and the scent of her arousal hit him with an overwhelming intensity, sending him into sudden heat. Her pungent aroma wafted over him stronger, heavier, and more potent than he remembered. He lingered in it too long and lost himself. His cock stiffened against the zipper of his jeans. He had to tamp down his own arousal before he could speak.

“What are you doing here?” he said roughly.

She flinched. “Well, at least someone is glad to see me.” She gave up a tiny smile and looked down at Ralf who rubbed up against her like a cat. “Can I come in?”

“Sorry.” He stepped aside to let her pass. He was handling this badly. “You surprised me. I don’t get many visitors.”

“I can see why.” She let out a nervous laugh. “And you’re not too easy to find.”

“I don’t clear the trails. Ralf likes to run, and it’s more private.”

“Right. Well, he’s the reason I’m here. To make sure my patient is up and running—or at least walking.”

“I should have called.” An awkward silence passed between them. He didn’t know what to say. She’d thrown him off course.

“Can I take a look at Ralf now?” she said abruptly. “I brought dressings and antibiotics in case he needs them.”

“Of course,” he acceded. “Ralf—”

“No, he’s fine where he is.” She shrugged the backpack off her shoulders and joined the hybrid on a Navajo rug by the stone fireplace.

She looked like she belonged there. It took all his willpower to stay put. He wanted to join them, but if he got too close to her, he would lose it. Her clothes would be off, and he’d be doing her in front of the fireplace. He remembered how she responded to his every lick and touch, how her pussy convulsed around him when she came. This time he wanted to feel her come against his mouth. Then he would take her on the floor, she’d wrap her legs around him in that death grip of hers, and he would bury his throbbing cock inside her—

“Earth to Malcolm.”

“Er…sorry.” He grabbed for control. She always tempted his wolf but never more than today. He felt like they were already bonded in some way.

“I said he’s doing great.”

“Thanks to you.”

“I think we can leave the dressing off.” She stood and something on the mantel caught her eye.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Hopi kweo, a wolf kachina doll.”

She reached out for the figure. “Do you mind?”

“No. Go ahead. The Indians revere him for his power as an antelope hunter.”

“He’s beautiful,” she breathed. Carefully, she lifted the figure for a closer look. “Did you carve him?”

“Yes. He’s yours.”

“Oh no. I couldn’t.” She started to replace him on the mantel.

“I want you to have it.” It was little enough. She deserved so much more.

Her eyes welled up with tears. Alarmed, he stopped himself from going to her and wrapping his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. I guess you heard about the wolf.”

“I saw it in the paper. Come sit down. I’ll get you some water.” He paused. “Or would you rather have coffee?”

“Water is fine, thanks.” She settled onto the log couch and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands.

“Watch out for the dog hair,” he said over his shoulder.

“I’ve been covered in worse.”

“I remember.” He laughed. He hadn’t laughed since the last time he saw her. Having her here shouldn’t feel this right or make him this happy. He needed to cut this visit short.

“Thank you.” She reached for the bottle and took a drink, then set it on the carved top of the table between them. “You made this too?” Her delicate fingers traced the bas relief landscape.

“Yeah.” He’d done it from memory—two wolves lying in front of a modest log home, surrounded by lush pine forest. Mia would be surprised to see the house he occupied now. It was just a roof over his head. He’d rather have the tiny cabin back, overflowing with family.

 
“It’s so detailed. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 
He shrugged. “I’m good with my hands.” Understatement. He poured his heart and soul into it.