Pipe Dreams(34)

Slowly she shook her head. "It's midnight. And I'm already in the car."

Right. "Good night, Lo. Thanks for the ride, and have a safe trip home."

"Thank you," she said stiffly.

He shut the door and stepped onto the curb so the car could roll away.

A moment later the car's taillights turned out of sight.





NINETEEN


TAMPA, FLORIDA

MAY 2016


Four days later Lauren knelt in child's pose on her yoga mat, which  she'd unfurled on the wood floor in an exercise studio in the team's  Tampa hotel.

At the front of the room, Ari took the class through some breathing  exercises. Lauren expanded her diaphragm on command, inhaling deeply.  But she tuned Ari out in favor of indulging herself in a few private  play-offs calculations.

The location of play-offs series games was always dependent on team  standings. In this case, Tampa had entered the postseason with the  higher ranking. So they'd enjoyed a home ice advantage for the first two  games. Then there had been two in Brooklyn-the one where Mike fought  Skews, and then another.

Which they'd lost, unfortunately.

The series was now tied 2 – 2, and Lauren was hoping her boys could win  the next two in a row. According to the rules, game five was back in  Tampa, which accounted for the location of today's team yoga class. Game  six would happen in Brooklyn. If the Bruisers could win two in a row,  the series would be over then.

However.

If the series lasted seven games, the final one would take place in  Tampa. That wasn't going to be good for Lauren. Because on the date of  game seven, she needed to be in New York, where her reproductive  endocrinologist was located. If her calculations were right, she'd be  ovulating then . . .

"Rise into tabletop," Ari said at the front of the room. "Exhale,  rounding your back, tucking your tailbone. Take stock of your body as we  begin a series of cat and cow poses. What feels tight? What feels good?  Take it slowly . . ."

Lauren listened to Ari's voice and tried to shake off her private  worries. Upstairs in her hotel room she had a test kit which would help  her predict her ovulation. Today she'd take her last dose of the  fertility medication, then she could begin testing tomorrow.

Maybe everything could still work out fine. Her body was unpredictable  enough that she'd needed the drug to regulate her cycle. Maybe she would  ovulate while she was still in New York for game six, or maybe her  ovaries would wait until after game seven.

Whenever the test kit gave her the "smiley face" indicator, she'd call  the doctor to make an appointment for her intrauterine insemination. The  clinic was open seven days a week to accommodate the fickle ovaries of  its patients.

Either way, she'd cheer hard for Brooklyn during games five and six. Win this, so we can stay home, she'd be praying.

Ari brought her class into a standing position. "Sweep your arms up on  the inhale," she instructed. "Bring your hands together at heart's  center. As you exhale, dive forward with length."

As Lauren dove, she admired Mike's well-muscled backside a couple of  rows ahead of her. He was wearing a pair of Lycra shorts that were  probably illegal in several states. When he folded his body forward, his  nose came right to his knees, and his leg muscles stood at perfect  attention like handsome soldiers ready for battle.

Wowzers.

Ari took the class through its first sun salutation, and Lauren found  her eyes drifting to Mike over and over. "Rise into Warrior II," the  teacher said, and Mike lunged forward, his arms outstretched perfectly,  his back muscles rippling.                       
       
           



       

Gawd. He was so beautiful. She'd never met anyone more comfortable in  his own body. When they were together he used to walk around naked all  the time, while she tried not to swallow her tongue. "Don't you own any  shirts?" she'd asked him one January evening, as he'd poured her a glass  of wine wearing nothing but a pair of baggy shorts.

"I run hot," he'd explained. "And this way there are fewer clothes in the way if you decide to pounce on me."

If memory served, she'd done that very thing about fifteen minutes later.

In the past, when Lauren had fantasized about baby-making, she'd always  imagined conceiving while burning up the sheets in his bed. Getting  pregnant on a table at the fertility clinic had never been part of her  life's plan.

But that's okay, she reminded herself. Things change, and I'm done  feeling bitter. She followed the class into downward-facing dog pose and  stretched her hamstrings. Yoga was relaxing. Maybe Ari would help her  find a prenatal yoga class if she became pregnant next week.

Next week. Wow. A little zing of excitement pulsed through her body.

There were good things happening in her life, and not one of them depended on Mike Beacon.

After class, Lauren wiped down her yoga mat and rolled it up. She pulled  a stretchy little skirt over her yoga leggings and took the elevator up  to the top floor of the hotel. She occupied the usual suite, even  though Nathan wouldn't arrive to occupy the adjacent one until tonight.

Humming to herself, she almost didn't notice the man standing beside her  hotel room door. "Mike," she squeaked, wishing too late that she hadn't  sounded so much like a teenage fan girl.

"There's something I need to discuss with you," he said. "Got a minute?"

"Sure." She took out her keycard, and tried to avoid glancing at his  muscular legs. At least he'd pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of baggy  shorts over his tight ones. That made concentrating a little easier.  Though that T-shirt was stretched tightly across his pecs, and his skin  glowed with the sweat of yoga exertion . . .

Stop. She had to cut out all the lustful thoughts about him. Thanks, hormones.

The door gave way and she stepped into her hotel suite. At least it  wasn't the same room or the same town where they'd had their recent sex  fest. Small mercies.

"So . . ." Mike said, closing the door behind himself.

"So?" She had no idea what he wanted to discuss.

Frowning, he walked past her and sat down on the leather footstool in  the suite's seating area. He crossed his delectable arms in front of  that lickable chest and looked up at her. "Sit down, honey."

The small demand rankled for some reason. But she obeyed the request  because it would probably get him out of her room more quickly. "Spit it  out, Mike. I have a lot of work to do." She sat on the sofa across from  him.

"It should be me," he said, his dark eyes boring into her. "Not a stranger."

"What should be you?" Had she missed the first part of this conversation?

"The father of your child."

She had to take a moment to play back the words he'd just spoken,  because they didn't make a whole lot of sense. "What do you mean?"

"I want it to be me," he said simply. "We were going to have a family. We can still do that."

Her blood pressure kicked up several notches in a big fat hurry. And  since avoidance had been her go-to response to all things Mike Beacon  these past two years, she tried to cut off the conversation. "I don't  remember asking for your opinion. If I wanted you to weigh in, I would  have let you know."

He winced. "I know you didn't ask me. But you don't have to turn to a stranger. I want to give this to you."

As if it were as simple as a gift he could drop off on her doorstep.  "Seriously? That would just be so awkward!" she yelped, her voice  getting high. "And you are a stranger, by the way. By choice." She hated  the sound of hysteria that was creeping into her voice.

He held her eyes, though his looked remorseful. "Let's not be strangers, then. Let's not be awkward."

"You want to have a child with someone you used to date?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I want a second chance to have a family with you. Together."

If exploding heads were a real thing, hers would have just detonated.  "And you came to this realization just recently because you spotted a  fertility drug in my purse."

Mike did something very unexpected then. He smiled. The corners of his  mouth turned up, and the smile was slow and sweet. "No, baby. I already  knew we needed a second chance. But what I didn't know was that you were  in a hurry. So I'm saying this now instead of waiting until the season  is over."                       
       
           



       

Lauren stood up suddenly. Her heart was still galloping, and her hands  felt twitchy. She hated all the anger that tightened her chest. It was  all well and good to tell yourself to give up on the bitterness, and it  had worked just fine on a yoga mat. But when some macho athlete sat down  in your hotel suite and informed you that you should have his baby, it  was a little harder to keep a cool head.