And Babies Make Five / At Long Last, a Bride: And Babies Make Five

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She did, however, suspect the Keatings would eventually embrace the news. Peter had been their only child and the love of their lives. Yet she still couldn’t seem to pick up the phone and invite them over—or pop in on them, something she’d never done before.

Still, she’d have to tell them. And she’d have to tell Hector, too.

But for a woman who was bursting at the seams with excitement, she couldn’t help wanting to keep her secret to herself for a little while longer.

On Sunday morning, Hector walked outside to get the Boston Herald and noticed that Samantha’s sprinklers were on. He’d heard them go on at four that morning, but it was well after eight, and they hadn’t shut off.

Water saturated her lawn and had streamed onto the sidewalk, over the curb and into the gutter.

Her newspaper, which had been neatly folded when the paperboy had tossed it onto the lawn, was soaking wet. Hadn’t the guy noticed the sprinklers going?

Hector slowly shook his head. You’d think he’d be alert enough to put it on the porch or in the driveway.

Before retrieving his paper, he headed over to Samantha’s house and knocked at her door.

She answered wearing a pair of jeans, a blousy top and a breezy smile. When he pointed out the flooding, her lips parted, and she stepped onto the stoop.

He noticed that she wasn’t wearing shoes, which made the phrase “barefoot and pregnant” come to mind, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“The sprinklers are supposed to be automatic,” she said. “So why didn’t they turn off?”

“There’s probably a short in the timer. I can take a look at it, if you’d like me to.”

“Yes, I would. Thanks.”

As she led him through the house to get to the garage, he caught the whiff of something sweet baking in the oven, something that smelled awfully good.

Suddenly, the cereal he’d planned to eat later didn’t sound very appealing anymore.

She opened the door, stepped down into the garage and pointed out the box on the wall that held the timer. “I really appreciate this. I’d call the landscaping company and have them check it out, but it’s Sunday, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind.” Hector took a look at the timer, shut off the sprinklers manually. Then he disconnected the apparatus for her.

“Thanks for doing this on your day off.”

“No problem.” He closed the little blue door on the timer box. “In the meantime, that doesn’t do your newspaper any good. I’m afraid you won’t be able to read it.”

She crossed her arms and blew out a sigh of resignation. “How’s that for luck? I’d wanted to check the weekly ads to see what baby things were going to be on sale this week.”

“Hang on,” he said. “I’ll go and get mine for you to read.”

“Are you finished with it?”

“Nope.” He grinned. “I haven’t even opened it. But if you’ll invite me to taste whatever you’re baking, I’d be happy to hand it over, along with all of the ads and coupons.”

She laughed. “You’ve got a deal. And for the record, I made orange-cranberry muffins. They just came out of the oven.”

“Sounds great.”

“But I’ve cut out caffeine from my diet, so I don’t have any coffee in my pantry. If you want some, you’ll have to bring your own grounds. I have a pot and filters, though.”

“Will do. I don’t eat many meals at home, especially breakfast. But I try to keep coffee on hand for … visitors.” He didn’t mention that his houseguests were women who’d stayed the night. “Is there anything else I can bring back?”

“Not that I can think of.”

He nodded, then went home.

True to his word, he returned with his newspaper and a small bag of Starbucks grounds he kept in the freezer.

Instead of knocking, he let himself in.

“Hector?” she called, when she heard the cricketlike chime indicating an open door. “I’m in here.”

He followed the sound of her voice and found her in the kitchen, preparing a fruit platter of sliced melon, pineapple and bananas, sprinkled with blueberries. He couldn’t help watching her work, watching her move.

But rather than continue to gape at her—and risk having her catch him doing so—he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She turned, leaned her back against the counter and offered him a heart-stopping smile. “No, I’ve got everything under control.”

As her gaze sketched over him, and he sensed feminine interest on her part, which set off a flurry of hormones in his bloodstream. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

If she weren’t pregnant.

If she weren’t Peter’s widow.

Then what? he asked himself. Would he actually hit on her?

Yes, he realized. He would. Then why let anything stop him now?

When the answer failed to form, he shook off the thought and handed her the coffee. Then he took a seat in the breakfast nook, at the table she’d already set.

A big bay window looked out into the backyard, which boasted a lawn big enough for a game of T-ball and a tree that would be perfect for climbing.

Samantha’s son or daughter would be lucky to grow up in this house. And as Samantha served the fruit and muffins on a china plate, he realized the kid would be lucky to have her for a mom.

As the coffee began to dribble into the carafe, she joined him at the table, saying, “Feel free to read the paper while you eat.”

As Hector took a bite of one of the best muffins he’d ever eaten, he sorted through the newspaper until he came across a department store advertisement that displayed baby things. Then he handed the page to Samantha. “Is this what you were looking for?”

She brightened as she took it from him. “Oh, how sweet. I really like that white crib. And it has a matching dresser and changing table.” She set the section she’d been reading back on the table and pointed at the furniture that had caught her eye. “Isn’t it cute?”

It looked like any old crib to him—white, with rails so the kid wouldn’t fall out. He didn’t see anything especially cute about it. He did, however, think Samantha was pretty damn cute herself, even if she was pregnant.

Hell, maybe even because of it.

He’d told her once that pregnant women intrigued him these days, which really wasn’t true. She was the only one who had actually caught his interest.

But maybe he’d be wise not to stew about it.

“You know,” he said, “you’ve got a lot of things you’re going to need to buy before the baby gets here, unless someone’s going to throw you a shower.”

“Oh. No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure who’d have one for me, but that’s okay. I really won’t need one.”

He supposed she had enough money to purchase everything herself, but his sister and his mother really enjoyed going to showers—for both babies and brides. It seemed to be a big deal to them, and they would “ooh” and “ahh” over the gifts they’d bought. Then they’d make a big deal about getting dressed up for the event.

So Hector figured that Samantha would enjoy having one. But if she hadn’t told people she was back, or if she hadn’t maintained any friendships in Boston, he realized there might not be anyone to host it.

Too bad, he thought, feeling sorry for her yet again.

“Would you like another muffin?” she asked.

“Sure.” While she stood to serve him, he couldn’t help adding, “The baby’s going to be here before you know it.”

“I know, but there’s still plenty of time.”

Maybe only a couple of months, he guessed, which wasn’t all that long. She really needed to look ahead, to prepare for the unexpected, especially since she didn’t have anyone to help her.

“Don’t some babies come early?” he asked, trying to send a subtle message.

“Yes, they do. And mine probably will.” She returned with a plate of muffins, then sat down and reached for the advertisement. As she scanned the vast assortment of baby furniture, supplies and clothing, she didn’t appear to be overly concerned, which he couldn’t understand. Especially if she thought her baby might be one that came early.

He was just about to prod her a little more, when she said, “Maybe I better go shopping this week. With all I need to buy, I want to take advantage of the sale price.”

Good. He’d made his point, so he settled back in his seat.

They continued to eat until the coffee stopped brewing with a tired wheeze.

“It’s ready,” Samantha said as she pushed back her chair and stood once again. Then she went to the cupboard and filled Hector’s mug.

On her way back to the table, she caught him studying her, the swell of her belly. As his eyes lifted, their gazes met and locked. Something warm stirred between them, something that set off a zing in her pulse, and she couldn’t help feeling a little … amazed by it all.

Trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, she asked, “Do you use cream and sugar?”

“No, this is fine. Thanks.” Hector took the mug in both hands, but didn’t take a sip. “By the way, did you ever order that wallpaper?”

“Yes, I got the farm print that we both liked, but it’s on back order. Hopefully, I’ll have it within a week. I also chose the blue paint for the walls and the white for the crown molding.”

“The baby ought to like that.”

“I hope so.”

After Hector had eaten his fill, he picked up the front page of the newspaper and scanned the headlines.

Samantha, too, sorted through the pages until she found the society section, something she’d read daily when she’d been married to Peter but hadn’t given much thought to reading these days.