Have Baby, Need Beau (16 page)

One minute she’d been all sweet and nice, thanking him for the flowers, and they’d actually been talking about things, actually making headway in their rocky relationship, then the next she’d snapped his head off. He’d simply been trying to be considerate again, thinking of her condition, wanting to take care of her. Why would wanting to relieve her of one area of stress make her angry?

A knock jerked him from his troubled thoughts and he called, “Come in.”

Eleanor Bainbridge stepped through the door. “Hi. I’ve been trying to catch up with you. I wanted to see if we could get together.”

Seth noticed her smile and realized she was interested in him. Flattery spiked his pride. But even though Eleanor was attractive, he felt absolutely no spark of attraction to her. “I’ve been pretty busy,” he said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Is there something specific you needed?”

“No, I wondered if you had time to show me some fun spots in town.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty booked now.” He hesitated, wondering if he should mention he had a girlfriend. Except technically Mimi wasn’t his girlfriend. She was … the mother of his child, his future wife. No, it seemed premature to introduce her that way.

An enigma would be the most apt description. Or the woman who was driving him crazy.

“All right, then. If you do free up some time, give me a call.”

Another tap and Hannah Hartwell—no, Hannah
Tippins
appeared in the doorway. Eleanor dropped a card on his desk with her phone number scrawled on top. He opened his mouth to explain to Hannah but had no idea what to say.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Hannah asked.

Dr. Bainbridge flitted her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you later, Seth. Don’t forget to call when you have time.”

Seth nodded and pushed the papers around on his desk, aware of Hannah’s astute gaze. “Come on in, Hannah. I’ve been expecting you.”

Eleanor closed the door behind her and Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “What’s up with her?”

“Nothing.”

She raised a brow. “Really?”

“I’m not interested in Dr. Bainbridge, Hannah. Lord knows, I’ve got my hands full with … with your sister.”

Hannah smiled that understanding smile, and he realized now the reason they’d been friends. They understood each other—which was the opposite of the relationship he had with her sister.

“Mimi told me about you two,” Hannah began.

“I don’t want you to think I used her.”

She held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain, Seth.”

“But I want you to believe me. It just happened. One minute we were talking and she was telling me about Joey, and we were in the car all alone…” He jumped up and paced in front of his window, running a hand over his neck. “And I kept smelling that damn perfume of hers—it makes me crazy—and then we got stranded and we ate dessert, and she’s just so damn sexy, the way she eats chocolate, and then we danced and… God.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m babbling. I can’t believe it, I’m actually babbling.”

Hannah laughed. Not a soft little giggle, either. She threw back her head and laughed hysterically.

He raised his head and frowned at her. “What the hell’s so funny?”

She covered her mouth in an attempt to control herself, but more laughter sputtered. “I…”

He continued to frown at her. “I’m glad my misery’s so entertaining.”

She finally gained some semblance of control, but her eyes danced with mischief. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you.”

“Huh?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You, Dr. Seth Broadhurst, the unflappable, methodical, scientific, list-making, genius psychiatrist, are in love with my little sister.”

He gulped. In love with Mimi?

Sure, he
liked
her and she was sexy and probably the kindest, warmest-hearted
real
person he’d ever known, and he grew hot and all mushy just thinking about her.

Dear Lord. Could she be right? No, Seth Broadhurst was too levelheaded to fall in love, not the Hollywood kind of love, anyway. He ran a hand through his hair. “I do care about Mimi, Hannah. I’m not sure I’d call it love, but I want to try to make a relationship work for the baby.”

Hannah tapped her chin with her finger. “And that message came through loud and clear to Mimi?”

He winced.

Hannah walked over and gave him a hug, pulling back to study his face. “Deny it all you want, Seth, but I do think you love my sister. You just don’t realize it yet. And I couldn’t be happier for you. Mimi’s wonderful, but she’s always selling herself short. I knew one day someone special would come along and see how fantastic she really is.”

Seth simply stared at her. He’d never been in love before … and no, he wasn’t now. Hannah must still be so caught up in her new husband she was romanticizing the situation.

But he had been acting foolishly lately—buying wild underwear, reading books about romance. Babbling nonsense. Now she had him psychoanalyzing himself. He had to focus on the issue at hand—the baby.

“Personal feelings aside, there’s still a major problem,” he said.

“I know. The pregnancy.”

“No.” He shook his had emphatically. “I won’t let anyone call our baby a problem.”

“Good.” Hannah grinned. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Mimi doesn’t want me.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Hannah said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I have a feeling she may be madly in love with you, too. She just doesn’t know it yet, either.”

“No, you don’t understand. Everything I do is wrong. Just this morning I sent her a dozen yellow roses—”

“You sent her roses?”

“Yeah.” Seth shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “I know it’s clichéd, but it always works on TV.”

“Flowers are sweet,” she admitted with a grin. “But unfortunately Mimi’s allergic to roses. I’d better order some topical cream for her. She can’t take her normal allergy pills with the pregnancy.”

“Good grief, I sent her something that could hurt her.”

“Relax, she has a simple sneezing reaction and a few hives. It’s no big deal.”

Seth slapped his leg in frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me she was allergic? I would have sent the damn things back and ordered something else. I’m calling the florist right away. I’ll send her mums or—”

“She’s allergic to those, too.”

“Well, what isn’t she allergic to?”

“Lilies. She loves lilies.”

“Okay, I’ll send her a hundred lilies. Hell, I’ll start her a whole garden.” He reached for the phone, but Hannah stopped him.

She was laughing again. “You want to know why she didn’t tell you about her allergy?”

“Because she thinks I’m an imbecile?”

“No, because she was impressed and she’s too much of a softy to hurt your feelings.”

His chest automatically swelled.
Finally
he’d done something right.

He chuckled sardonically. “Well, she certainly wasn’t worried about my feelings when she hung up on me.”

“Why did she hang up?”

“She was talking about how busy the place was and how her feet were hurting, and I suggested she take time off work, that I’d pay for her to stay home so she could rest.”

“You did what?”

“I offered to support her. I am the father of this baby and I don’t think she should be waitressing during the next few months.”

Hannah winced. “Uh-oh.”

“I know I goofed. I just don’t know exactly what I did wrong. I was only trying to take care of her, but she got so emotional.” The very reason he and Hannah had been such good friends was that Hannah was calm and rational. But there had never been that passion with her, with Mimi the passion was everything.

Hannah patted him on the back. “Seth, sit down and let me explain something about Mimi…”

Seth listened to his second lesson on women from another Hartwell. Really, he thought, when Hannah had finished explaining Mimi’s logic, they should teach a class on understanding women. Maybe he’d look for a book on the Internet tonight, a basic one for the emotionally and romantically impaired, something like
Understanding Women for Dummies
.

* * *

“So, mother, what brings you here?”

Mrs. Hartwell studied Mimi, her eyes steady. Her mother had obviously overheard her comment about Hannah being like a mother, but Mimi wouldn’t—no, she
couldn’t
—apologize for speaking the truth.

“I think we should talk,” Mrs. Hartwell said.

Surely her mother didn’t know… “I’m working now.”

Mrs. Hartwell glanced around the nearly empty café. “It looks as if the other waitress has things under control.”

“I’m the manager, Mom, not just a waitress.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“You wouldn’t. Maybe we can get together some other time?”

“I’d like to talk to you now.” Her mother reached out to touch her, but Mimi stepped away. An instinctive reaction. She hadn’t seen her mother in years, and now she wanted to chat like friends?

“I can’t imagine what’s so important.”

“
You
are what’s important.” Her mother’s voice sounded firm. Almost
motherly
.

Mimi’s breath caught. But her mother didn’t have an ounce of mothering instinct in her. “Why now when I’m at work? Why not when it’s more convenient?”

“I thought this place might be more neutral. I wasn’t sure you’d welcome me into your apartment.” Her voice quivered slightly. “You really are important to me, honey.”

Mimi felt herself wavering. She was too damn softhearted; she’d get hurt again. “I never was before. None of us were.”

Mrs. Hartwell sighed shakily. “Okay. I deserved that. But I still want you to hear me out.”

Mimi hesitated, then finally conceded. She might as well get it over with, although she did not need to deal with this today, not on top of everything else. Besides, she had enough interfering family members; she’d been expecting to see her dad in here all morning. He and her sisters would probably set up shifts to watch her the next few months.

“Mimi?”

“Let’s take a booth. Can I get you some coffee?”

Her mother ordered a cappuccino, and Mimi chose a fruit juice from the refrigerator and joined her in the far corner, taking her time to study her mother as she sat down. She looked serious, worried even. Less standoffish. Maybe because she was wearing simple black slacks and a purple sweater, instead of one of her expensive tailored suits.

“Your father stopped by to see me last night.”

Mimi tore off the cap to her drink, her hands trembling. She did not have a good feeling about the direction of the conversation.

“He told me about … about the baby.”

“What?” The bottle of juice clunked onto the laminated tabletop. “He had no right.”

“He had every right. I’m your mother.”

Mimi simply stared at her. “My mother left me years ago.”

Mrs. Hartwell’s expression wilted. “I know I deserve that and I’m not here to ask forgiveness—”

“Good.”

“But I do care about you.”

“Listen, Janelle,” Mimi said, purposely using her mother’s first name, “if you cared so much, why did you stay away so long?”

Mrs. Hartwell stirred sweetener into her cappuccino, hurt flickering in her eyes. “I wanted to come back a few times, but … well, I was so busy building my career and then I’d waited so long and then … well, I figured it was too late. That you girls hated me, and frankly I was too ashamed of what I’d done.”

Mimi’s throat felt thick. “Then why are you here now?”

Mrs. Hartwell’s gaze rose to meet hers, and Mimi flinched at the torment she saw in her eyes. “Because I’m probably the only one who knows how you’re feeling right now. How confused you must be.”

Mimi studied her fingernails. She couldn’t argue with that.

“Wiley told me that you girls overheard our argument the day I left, that you found out that we had married because I was pregnant with Hannah.”

“How did Dad know? We never told him.”

Mrs. Hartwell pushed her coffee cup around in her hands. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you two overheard that fight. I’m sure you must be thinking about it now.”

Mimi simply shrugged. Having a mother-daughter talk with a mother who’d been virtually nonexistent for years was still a novel idea.

“I don’t know if you love this young man you were with or not, and I won’t pry. I realize I haven’t earned that right.” Mrs. Hartwell lifted a thin hand as if to reach for Mimi again, then seemed to think better of it and brushed at a strand of hair that had slipped from her chignon. “But I was wrong to say such a thing. It wasn’t true.”

“You mean, you didn’t marry Dad because you were pregnant?”

“No, I mean, yes, we did marry because I was having Hannah. But that wasn’t the reason we divorced. It wasn’t because of you girls at all.”

Tears burned in Mimi’s eyes. She’d wanted all her life to believe that she hadn’t driven her mother away, but she still didn’t quite trust her mother’s words. “But you hated the messes I made. All the paint and glitter, and then I brought home that dog and that turtle…”

Her mother reached for her then and took her hand, holding it on the table between them. “I know I complained about all that, honey, but my leaving had nothing to do with you or Hannah or Alison. You have to believe me.”

“Then why did you leave?”

Mrs. Hartwell released her hand and Mimi felt as if she’d been deserted again. She studied her mother as she sipped her drink.

“Because I was immature, irresponsible and selfish. And frankly I … I wasn’t in love with your father. I’m sorry.”

Mimi’s heart squeezed. Whoever coined the expression “The truth will set you free” forgot to add how much the truth could hurt.

“Not that your father isn’t a wonderful man, and he’s certainly been a fantastic father, but I was too young when we met, and we just didn’t have the kind of passion that keeps a marriage alive. We tried to make it work. Your father tried especially hard, but I was too immature to handle a family.” She wiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. “I wish we’d had the right kind of love so you girls wouldn’t have been hurt. And, Mimi, I don’t want to see you make the same mistake I did. If you want a career, if you want to raise the baby by yourself and wait for Mr. Right, then you should do it.”