Whispering Rock (Virgin River #3)(29)

“Are you crying because you’re PMS-y?” he asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Cramps? Want me to rub your back?”

“No,” she said. “I feel fine. Really.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her deeply. Lovingly. Lustfully. “Want me to make you feel a little better? I know how.”

“That’s okay, John. There’s no need.”

“You don’t have to be shy with me. There’s no part of your life, your body, that puts me off. I love every bit of you.”

She sighed deeply. “I should just take a shower and crawl into bed. I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

He reached behind her and started the water. Then he ran his hand up the back of her thigh, over her bum and under the large T-shirt she wore, caressing her back, pulling her close to kiss her some more. When he released her lips, he slowly pulled the T-shirt over her head. He loved the way she stood so erect and comfortable when she was na**d in front of him, when he filled his eyes with her. He lowered his lips to her na**d breast and drew gently on a nipple, causing her to let her head drop back and sigh deeply. If there was anything about his life with her that was past magnificent, it was the fact that she was as easily turned on by him as he was by her. Their love life gave her a constant glow. And he knew exactly how to make the tears go away.

He pulled the shower curtain wider for her to step inside, but then he quickly shed his clothes and got in with her. He pulled her into his arms again, his mouth on hers, his hands on her body.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered against his lips.

“I never do anything I don’t want to do,” he said. “I’m going to give you something happy to think about.” He kissed her forehead. “Baby, I love you so much.”

Mel and Jack had just finished having dinner together at the bar when Paige approached their table. “Mel, do you have a minute? I wanted to ask you something. Something medical.”

“Sure,” she said. “We can kill two birds with one stone—I have to nurse the wild one. Maybe we can go to your place.”

Jack handed over the baby. “I’ll take the bar,” he said.

Mel didn’t have a lot of occasions to be in Paige and Preacher’s room behind the bar, but those few times she was, warm memories flooded back to her. This was where Jack had lived when she came to town; this was where David was no doubt conceived. She remembered the night so well—she’d had a major emotional meltdown, standing in the rain crying over her dead husband on the anniversary of his death, and Jack had held her. Then he’d dried her off, given her a brandy, put her to bed. Sometime later he’d joined her there and showed her a life and love she’d never known could exist for her.

Now the room held the influence of Paige—pictures of Christopher, some toys in the corner, flowers on the table. Paige had drifted into their lives almost exactly a year ago, a battered wife on the run, and with Preacher’s strength behind her, had divorced her abusive husband and seen him sent to prison.

Paige sat on the sofa and Mel took the big chair, settling David on the breast. He curled around her comfortably, gently kneading her breast with his chubby hand.

“John wanted me to talk to you—I’m sorry to bother your evening, but you weren’t around Doc’s much the last couple of days.”

“No problem. You’re not bothering my evening. He’s bothering my evening,” she said with a smile. “He’s crabby tonight. Too much running around, I think. Not to mention cookies. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m not getting pregnant,” she said. “It’s only been six months or so that I’ve been off the pill, but in my previous life it was as though I couldn’t keep from getting pregnant. What do you think I should do?”

“Well, let’s see—are your periods regular?”

“As clockwork,” she said.

“The assumption is that you’re ovulating regularly, then. Usually, if you’re going to do any kind of infertility workup, you start with Dad—make sure you’re dealing with an adequate sperm count. It’s the cheapest and quickest test, plus you don’t want to do a complete workup on Mom until you rule out Dad. And after all, we know you can get pregnant.”

“Well—I could before,” she said.

“Still, there was no indication any damage was caused beyond the miscarriage,” Mel said. “Bleeding stopped right after the D & C and you haven’t had any peculiarities—like real heavy or weird periods, have you?”

“No, not at all.”

“And you have relations on a regular basis?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You have to remember, John has just discovered sex,” she said. Then she smiled a bit shyly.

“Oh,” Mel said. “I take that to mean—?” But she stopped herself.

“He can’t get enough,” she said. “But then, I haven’t had a loving partner until now, so I’m not complaining.”

“Well, that might be the problem. Having a lot of sex is a bad way to get pregnant. It depletes his sperm count. Before you try any fancy tests, you should drive to Fortuna, buy yourself an ovulation testing kit at the drugstore and ask Preacher to save up. It takes at least forty-eight hours to replenish the count. Make him wait. No more often than every couple of days. Every few days would be better and then only once—no marathons. And you want to make sure he’s been on ice a few days before the big day.” She smiled. “You get a reprieve on ovulation day, of course. Knock yourselves out.”