Newborn Needs a Dad / His Motherless Little Twins by Dianne Drake

they’ll be under the table, so no one will notice.”
    “Which is where you’ll find me,” Gabby muttered, as Neil took her by the arm and led her all the way over to the window. Naturally, he stopped at several tables along the way to say hello, to ask how someone was feeling, to introduce her to a highly styled couple he thought she should know. So, what could have, or should have, been a quick trip across the carpeted floor turned into twenty long minutes in which she knew people were turning their heads, asking questions. Pointing.
    “I didn’t know,” Gabby explained to Angela, who hurried over to the table the instant they were seated. “And I apologize.”
    “For what? I’m just glad you’re here. When I saw that Neil had made the reservation I decided to stay over and make sure your meal is perfect. Even though I won’t be cooking it. But I did make a fabulous chocolate trifle for dessert, since I knew you were craving chocolate.”
    Gabby pulled her boot out from under the table. “This is what I’m apologizing for. I might have to have a double serving of the trifle to get me over the trauma.”
    “She thinks she’s out of place.” Neil set aside the wine menu and went straight to the menu of imported waters. “I told her she’s fine, but she won’t believe me.”
    Angela laughed. “He’s right. You’re fine. And I’m so glad you’re here.”
    “How are you feeling?” Gabby asked.
    “You’re off duty, Doctor,” Neil reminded her, then ordered a sparkling water from Belgium. “Time to relax, which you’re not doing very well at right now.”
    “I’m fine, and I’ve got to get back to the kitchen,” Angela explained. “And I’ve got your meal all planned, so please sit back, relax, enjoy yourself.” She turned away,had a second thought, then turned back. “Dance. We have an awesome dance floor here. And I know an obstetrician who would tell you that the exercise would do you good.”
    Gabby gave her a scowl. “I don’t dance.” Angela was trying to turn this into a romantic date, and that wasn’t going to work, no matter how romantic the atmosphere, the food or the music. But the smile she saw on Neil’s face made her wonder if he thought differently. “I don’t,” she protested. “Never have, except for a couple of school dances when I was a girl, and I was terrible.”
    Angela scurried off to the kitchen, leaving Gabby and Neil to the discussion. “So you really don’t know if you can dance, then, do you?” he asked.
    “And I’m not about to find out.”
    “What if I asked you? Called in the gratuity you offered for the massage. Remember that?”
    “I remember reserving the right to put conditions on that gratuity, so I’d have to say no.”
    “And you wouldn’t find that a little rude, turning down your dinner escort that way, especially when a gratuity you promised still hangs in the balance?”
    “If my dinner escort valued his toes, he wouldn’t ask.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “So don’t ask.”
    “What if I said that dancing is good for the baby?” His eyes positively twinkled with mischief.
    “Then I’d say it’s a good thing you’re not an obstetrician, because dancing has nothing to do with fetal development.”
    “You’re referring to Bryce as a fetus, now? And just when I’ve gotten use to personalizing him?”
    She didn’t answer as the waiter placed a champagne bucket next to the table. In it was a chilled bottle of sparkling water, which he served the way he would haveserved a fine wine. Gabby kept her eyes fixed on him while, across the table, Neil kept his eyes fixed on her—making her totally uncomfortable. Given different circumstances, this might have turned into the night he expected. But circumstances weren’t different, and nothing was going to change. Or, actually, it would once the evening was over.
    “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
    “I’ve never been this up close