Read Not Quite Married for Free Online

broccoli, garlic cream and grana padano cheese.
    As they enjoyed the wonderful food, Clara went ahead and admitted, “This is Dalton’s baby.”
    Astrid nodded. “I had a feeling that might be the case. I...wish you both the very best.”
    What to say to that? “Thank you.”
    Astrid confirmed what Dalton had already told Clara, that Dalton had occasionally helped her with her causes and served as her escort at a couple of events. “But that was months ago. I’m actually seeing someone now. Someone very special.” A slight, tender sort of smile curved her perfect lips. “Dalton and I are not getting back together. The marriage is over. It’s been over for a long time.”
    “What went wrong?” Clara dared to ask.
    Astrid only shook her head. “It’s never a good idea to ask the ex what went wrong. You should take it up with Dalton.”
    Clara could hardly picture herself taking anything up with Dalton. But she only nodded and agreed that yes, he was the one she ought to ask about that.
    She left Astrid’s house at a little after four and fought rush-hour traffic until she finally got north of the metro area. All the way home, she stewed over how she needed to get straight with Dalton. She needed to start working with him instead of avoiding him; they needed to begin to adjust to their roles as parents of the same child.
    At home, she dug her phone out of her purse, dropped the purse on the hall table and carried the phone through to the great room, where she sank to the sofa and kicked off her shoes. With a tired sigh, she let her head drop to the sofa back.
    Dalton. She needed to make peace with him for the sake of the baby. But she hated that she was still attracted to him, even though he’d turned out to be nothing like the man she’d fallen for on the island.
    Plus, hello. Extremely pregnant, big as a cow. And tired. Tired to the bone. She just couldn’t talk to him right then.
    And she wouldn’t.
    Tomorrow. Yeah. She’d get a good night’s rest and call him in the morning.
    The phone rang in her hand.
    Dalton Ames, read the display. She put the damn thing to her ear. “What?”
    “Astrid tells me you went to see her.”
    She stifled another groan. “Yes, Dalton. Astrid has set me straight.”
    “Good. Let me take you to dinner tonight.”
    She cradled her enormous belly with her free hand and sighed. “I’m eight months pregnant, Dalton. I just drove five hours round-trip to and from Castle Pines Village.”
    “You should have called me. I would have sent a car.”
    “The point is, I’m not going anywhere this evening but to bed.”
    Dead silence. Then, “My God, Clara. Are you all right?”
    She wasn’t, not really. She felt torn in two. But she was much too tired to do anything about that at the moment. “Dalton, we’ll talk, I promise.”
    “When?”
    “Soon. I really have to go.”
    “I’ll be there by nine at the latest.”
    “What? Here? No. Why?”
    “I want to see for myself that you’re all right.”
    Clara gathered every last ounce of will and determination she had left and she told him, “Don’t you dare, Dalton. You had better not knock on my door tonight.”
    More silence. Finally, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
    She wasn’t, as a matter of fact. But no way was she telling him that. “Yes. I’m fine.”
    “Get some rest, Clara.”
    “That is exactly what I plan to do.”
    He said good-night then. She breathed a careful sigh of relief as she hung up the phone. Then she dragged her poor, tired body up off the sofa and into her bedroom, where she fell into bed.
    In spite of her exhaustion, she didn’t sleep well.
    In the morning, she considered taking the day off. But that seemed wrong, after cutting out on her crew the day before.
    So she pulled herself together, threw on a comfy blue dress with a handkerchief hem and a sturdy pair of flat-heeled sandals. She gathered her hair up into a scraggly ponytail and went in—and found Dalton there, sitting at a window