A Valentine for Harlequin's Anniversary by Catherine Mann

you told me I was as welcome in your life as moldy cheese in your fridge.”
    Low whispers sounded behind her—no doubt the matchmaking trio of coworkers who’d wrangled her here today to watch an officemate’s final jump. Why hadn’t she remembered that Vince was jump qualified as well as being a pilot?
    However, since she hadn’t even known he was back from the Middle East, there’d been no reason to suspect him to fall from the sky.
    “In some countries,” her friend Ruthie chimed from behind her with Carl and Judd, “moldy cheese is a delicacy. Oh, and nice landing, Captain Ton ‘O Bricks. At least you land an aircraft better than you jump out of them.”
    Yep. Somehow, they’d conspired with Vince. She would deal with the three engineer stooges later.
    Without speaking, McKenzie kept her gaze sealed on Vince unhooking his chute and stowing it in a daze. A good opportunity to make a break for it. She rushed past. Oh, she knew Vince would follow, a good thing because she so did not want to have this conversation in front of her friends, the other jumpers unhooking and the dozen or so observers milling about the grassy expanse.
    She was already on edge enough over increasingly frequent obscene phone calls. And now someone had started mailing her “love notes”—creepy, obsessive letters. Worse yet, she’d found the latest on the front seat of her car just before she’d come here, even though she’d been certain she locked the doors as usual.
    Calls and mail were one thing, but he’d crossed a new line by breaking into her car. At first, when the calls had started, she’d just been annoyed, then disgusted as his language grew more vulgar.
    Now she was getting a little scared.
    Thank goodness she’d followed the police’s advice and had installed a security system at her condo shortly after the calls began four and a half months ago.
    How could all of this be happening to her? Especially when she was pregnant for crying out loud.
    And speaking of crying, please hormones, hold off on waterworks until Vince leaves.
    His jump boots thudded alongside her on their way toward the parking lot and looming buildings. “So are we almost to the place where you want to talk?”

    Of course he knew why she’d stalked off. She hated that he understood her so well when they’d dated just less than a year, because that had to mean he realized how his rejection had decimated her.
    The rat bastard.
    And to make matters worse, the rat bastard’s offspring was currently practicing barrel rolls on her bladder when she had to pee something fierce after standing outside for the past two hours. “I’m looking for a bathroom.”
    “Base ops is the closest, but it’s still quite a hump to walk. Are you and the uh…” He gestured vaguely over her stomach, still not touching, and darn him for looking so sexy and toned in his cammo when she currently had no waist. “Are you both all right?”
    “Totally. And I was planning to tell you about Junior here—as soon as you returned from the Middle East, even though you never once bothered to call or write.”
    At least he had the good grace to blush. And wasn’t that pink tinge on a big burly man just too adorable? Then pink made her think of a baby girl, which made her go teary eyed again. No way would she shed any more tears over this man. Hadn’t she’d already cried a lifetime’s worth when her husband had died of a brain tumor?
    Vince stopped just outside the base ops door. “After you freshen up, let’s go out to eat. I have reservations at Josephine’s French Country Inn. We could talk over an order of crab cakes and their grilled rack of lamb you like so much.”
    He’d planned to see her? Even plotted with her coworkers? Dangerous emotions swirled, emotions that she refused to fuel with romantic candlelight. “We can talk at McDonald’s.” Even though she would kill for a crab cake. “I’m craving Big Macs.”
    Frowning, he scratched along his thigh,