“She’s impressed with you, too.” That was a gross understatement, Marjorie thought to herself. Jody had been giving her signals all night that showed her wholehearted approval of Sam. In the ladies’ room she had gone so far as to suggest that if Marjorie didn’t want Sam, she’d take him.

But Marjorie wanted Sam Bretton even more than she had before. She couldn’t look in his direction without her eyes revealing everything that was stored in her heart. She couldn’t hide her love for him any longer.

“I have to stop off at the hospital for a minute,” he said, as he pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex. “Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not. If you want, I’ll stay in the car.”

“There’s no need for you to do that,” Sam came back quickly. “I want to introduce you to a couple of my friends. And this will give you a chance to see the two babies I delivered the other night.”

Marjorie’s heart shot to her throat. Babies. Sam was as comfortable with them as she was with interest rates and electromechanically fuel-injected engines. Anyone under the age of two terrorized her; babies made her nervous and served to remind her of how inadequate she was in the traditional female role. Her biggest fear was that Sam would bring her into the hospital and expect her to go inside the nursery. He might even expect her to hold an infant, and then he would learn that not only were babies allergic to her, she was allergic to them.

“How does that sound?” Sam asked, cutting into her troubled thoughts.

“About the babies?” she hedged.

“Yes, they’re—”

“Sam, listen,” she said, rushing her words. “Maybe it would be better if I went back to the apartment with Jody.”

He shot her a puzzled frown. The disappointment that welled up in him was strong. He couldn’t understand her sudden objection. Sure, she hadn’t especially enjoyed her hospital stay, and he could understand why. But her hesitation now puzzled him. “Go back to the apartment? Whatever for?”

Marjorie made the pretense of glancing at her watch. “It’s late and—”

“It’s barely after nine,” he countered, studying her. She was growing paler by the minute.

Marjorie couldn’t look into Sam’s eyes and refuse him anything. “You’re right,” she said, determination squaring her shoulders. “I’m being silly. Of course I’ll go with you and meet your friends and see the babies. Everything will be wonderful.”

She knew her tone was falsely cheerful, but she decided it was far better for her to confront her fears than to leave them unconquered. He would be with her—nothing would go wrong.

—