Cinderella's Secret Agent. Ingrid WeaverЧитать онлайн книгу.
“More? Now there’s a scary thought. Any more of me and I won’t fit through the front door anyway.” Maggie gave him a cheeky wink and picked up her order pad.
Five days, and then she would stay home. In spite of what she’d just told her boss, she was looking forward to the time off. As much as she needed the money this job brought, she had a million things still to do to get the apartment ready and less than a month to go.
“Hello, Maggie. How are you and Junior today?”
She pulled her pencil from behind her ear as she stopped in front of Del’s table. As always, his rich voice set off an odd reaction deep inside. It was his tone, so steady and calm and masculine—
Get real, she admonished herself. Sure, he was a nice guy, and they had shared many casual conversations over the weeks since he’d started coming in. Yet she didn’t know all that much about him, other than he liked his eggs over easy and his coffee black and seemed to have a schedule that coincided with hers. There was no reason for her pulse to flutter whenever she saw him.
Actually, it wasn’t only her pulse that felt fluttery now. Her entire body was…restless. Yes, that’s how she would describe it. She had been having tremors and tingles all day. She focused on her order pad, hoping the strange feeling in her lower stomach would pass. “We couldn’t be better. She had the hiccups this morning, but she settled down when I changed the radio station. She hates rap.”
“She?” Del repeated. “So you think the baby’s a girl today?”
“It’s just a feeling I have. It really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”
“Have you settled on any names yet, Maggie?”
“Not yet. I want to wait until I see my baby’s face before I decide.” She touched her fingertips to the bulge that pushed at the front of her dress. “Oh, it’s going to be so good to finally hold her in my arms.”
A pair of customers squeezed past on their way out. Del shifted his chair. “Tan sandals.”
Puzzled at the change in conversation, she glanced up. “Excuse me?”
Tiny laugh lines crinkled the corners of his eyes. “On your feet. You claimed you haven’t seen them lately, so I thought I’d bring you up to date.”
He had a wonderful smile, she thought. He didn’t flash it all that often, but when he did it added a hint of boyish charm to the cowboy toughness of his face. “Thanks,” she said.
“How did you manage to paint your toenails pink?”
“Would you believe a mirror and a brush with a very long handle?” She moved her hand from her stomach to the small of her back. The ache that had started building there this morning was getting worse—she must have strained a muscle somehow. “I could have skipped the polish, though. If the fashion police haven’t brought me in by now for this tent I’m wearing, I doubt if they’ll notice my toes. Heck, I can’t even see them.” She winced.
His gaze sharpened. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Maggie…”
“Really, Del. Aches and twinges are perfectly normal when a person’s carrying around this kind of weight. Want your usual?”
“I’ll settle for a coffee.” He glanced around. “The place isn’t that busy yet. Why don’t you take a break?”
“Can’t. Laszlo will fry me and put me in a burger.”
“I heard that!” the cook called.
She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “He hates it when I give away his secret recipes.”
“How bad is the twinge in your back?” Del persisted.
“On a scale of pinprick to root canal, it’s a stubbed toe. Relax,” she said, lifting her arm to tuck her pencil behind her ear. “I’m healthy as a—” She sucked in her breath. The pencil dropped to the floor. “Oh!”
“Maggie? What is it?”
“My back,” she said through her teeth. The pain took her by surprise, clutching at her spine and radiating to her belly.
Del surged to his feet and came around the table. “You’d better sit down,” he said, taking her arm.
She ignored the suggestion but she did lean into his support as the wave of agony gradually ebbed. Shaken, she exhaled hard and gave him a wobbly smile. “No, I’m fine. It’s gone now.”
Del looked carefully into her face. He didn’t release his hold on her arm. Instead he guided her to the nearest chair and gently helped her to sit. “What’s your doctor’s number, Maggie?”
“Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” she said, attempting to get up. “I shouldn’t have painted my toenails, that’s all.”
Del stopped her from rising by placing his hands on her shoulders. There was no humor in his amber gaze, only concern. “If it’s only a strained muscle, the pain won’t come back if you don’t move. We’ll just wait here for a few minutes and see what happens, okay?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said. “My due date’s weeks away, so I’m not about to give birth or anything.”
Taking the chair across from her, Del directed a look toward Laszlo. “Maggie’s taking a break.” Although he didn’t raise his voice, his tone was that of a man accustomed to giving orders. And unlike Maggie, no one else argued with him.
Joanne bustled forward and plunked a glass of water on the table for Maggie, leaning over to feel her forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay, hon? I can cover for you if you want to leave early.”
The caring in her friend’s gaze unexpectedly brought the heat of tears to Maggie’s eyes. She blinked hard. God, the pregnancy hormones were making a mess of her emotions. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. Really.”
And she would. Yes, indeed. Things could be so much worse. She had her friends. She had this job, at least for the next few days, and she had a home. And most important, in less than a month, she was going to have a child.
A child. A baby to love. Sometimes the wonder of it took her breath away.
“It won’t be long now.”
At Del’s softly spoken comment, Maggie smiled. He must have guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Spring is such a perfect time to have a baby, don’t you think?” she asked.
“What makes you say that?”
“Spring is when nature renews itself after the winter. The tulips are blooming, the cherry trees are blossoming, birds are returning to build their nests.”
“I see what you mean. It’s like an affirmation of life.”
“Exactly.” She beamed. “It’s my favorite season. Do you have any kids, Del?”
He hesitated. For an instant, a shadow of something dark flickered over his expression.
Oh, God. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have asked him such a personal question. Sure, they were on a first-name basis, but that was because she didn’t know his last name. Just because he’d been eating here regularly for almost two months didn’t mean she had the right to pry into his personal life. “Sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“No,” he answered finally. “I don’t have any kids. I’ve never been married.”
“Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably. The ache was building in her back again.
“My sister has half a dozen, though.”
She pressed her palm over her breasts. She seemed to have trouble taking a deep breath. “Really?”
“Uh-huh.