“How do you know that? No one can ever be sure. And look at you …you still feel an obligation to Steven. If he comes back after the baby is born, what happens to us? You don't know the answer to that either.” He sounded angry and unhappy for just a moment, but it was only because he loved her, and was missing his children.

“No, I don't know the answer to that. But I would never hurt you.” She knew that now. She didn't know what she'd do if Steven came back, and Bill was right, she did feel an obligation to her husband. But she felt something more now, too, a bond to Bill, a tie that had formed, that night perhaps when they were making love, or maybe it had happened more slowly, in the past few months when they became friends. But something had happened to bind them together, and she knew she'd never just walk out on him … or take away something or someone he loved. She was sure of it … or at least she hoped not. “I love you, Bill,” she said softly, thinking of him, and the boys, and the baby.

“I love you too,” he whispered back, thinking only of her, and as he did, his desire for her got the best of him again and he ran smooth hands slowly over her flesh, until she was panting with desire, and he made love to her again. It was a long, happy night, and they were still entangled in each other's bodies when they awoke in the morning.

She opened one eye, and was happily startled when she saw him. For a moment, she had thought it was a dream. But it wasn't, he was still asleep, and softly snoring. But he woke a few minutes later as she stretched, and shifted the weight of his leg on her a little.

“Is that you?” he growled sleepily, “or have I died and gone to heaven?” He smiled blissfully with his eyes closed in the morning sunlight.

“It's me. But is it you?” she whispered happily. It had been the most beautiful night of her life, the perfect honeymoon, in spite of being pregnant.

“It's me …are you still a virgin?” he teased, and she grinned.

“I don't think so.”

“Good. Let's just hope you don't get pregnant.”

“Don't worry. I'm on the pill.” They were giggling and cuddling, and lying as close as they could in the rumpled bed they had slept in.

“I'm relieved to hear it …are you going to make me lasagna for breakfast?” He stretched and grinned as she nodded.

“With vanilla.”

“Perfect. That's just the way I like it.” And then he turned over on his stomach, and lifted his head to kiss her on the lips. “I have a better idea. You relax, and I'll make you breakfast. What would you like? Waffles or pancakes?”

“Shouldn't I be on some kind of diet?” She was feeling guilty. They did nothing but eat all the time, but she wasn't really getting fat, except for her stomach. The baby somehow seemed to absorb it.

“You can worry about that later. What's your pleasure?”

“You.” And she demonstrated that amply to him before breakfast, much to his delight. It was two hours later before they discussed breakfast again, and this time he made scrambled eggs and bacon and steaming, strong coffee. And they sat eating breakfast in the kitchen, in matching silk dressing gowns that were both his, reading the Sunday paper.

“This is the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning,” she announced, and he grinned over at her, he had been reading the entertainment section.

“I agree with you entirely.” It was absolutely perfect.

They showered and dressed afterward, and went for a drive in her MG, which Bill loved to drive. And they stopped in Malibu for a long walk on the beach, and at sunset they drove slowly home with the top down and the wind in their faces. They looked happy and relaxed and young, and the world seemed to be theirs. They stopped at the supermarket where they had met, and then they went back to his place and made dinner. He poured champagne for both of them before they ate, to celebrate their union.

“To the marriage of two hearts …with a third to come,” he smiled as he toasted her, and then kissed her. “I love you, my darling.” They kissed again. And they spent a quiet evening at home, watching TV again, and she talked about going home. She didn't want to intrude on him, and she did have her own apartment, after all, but he wouldn't hear of her leaving. He wanted to move some of her things in that week. He couldn't see the point of her staying in the dismal emptiness of her old town house, and she had to agree with him. It didn't have much appeal, not now, when she could be with him, which was all she wanted.

He drove her to work the next day, and told her he'd bring her home after the six o'clock news, and then take her back for the late show. And when Zelda saw her, smiling at her desk, she knew something had happened to her. But she didn't pry. She just guessed, and hurried down the hall, feeling happy for her. And when he stopped in at noon, Zelda knew exactly who it was, and precisely what must have happened.

“It worked!” Bill beamed.

“What did?” A bear had attacked a child at the zoo, and the child had nearly died, and Adrian had to make a decision about what part of the tape to run, but she was happy to see him anyway, as she looked up and saw him smiling broadly. “What worked?” she said a little more gently. It had been a busy morning, but everything seemed to be bathed in a haze of happiness and pleasure.

“Your idea. About Harry being the baby's father. It works out perfectly. And everyone on the show is pleased, especially the director. George Orben is a pleasure to work with, and everyone is delighted about his getting a bigger part. You're a genius!”

“Anytime, Mr. Thigpen. Anytime.” She smiled. She was still hoping that one day his job offer might work out, and she could be working on his show instead of in the newsroom.

“Can you go out to lunch?” He looked hopeful, but she shook her head. There was too much going on, the bear at the zoo, a policeman had been brutally murdered an hour before, and the government had fallen in Venezuela.

“I don't think I'm going to get out of here till after the six o'clock news.” He nodded, kissed her, disappeared, and was back half an hour later with a huge hamburger, a cup of soup, and a fruit salad.

“It's all good for you. Eat it.”

“Yes, sir.” And then she whispered, “I love you,” under her breath, and saw out of the corner of her eye the look of disapproval on her secretary's face, and she realized what she had done. Her secretary didn't even know she and Steven had separated, and here she was kissing another man. There were several interested stares, and she knew that they would be even more so, once people started figuring out that she was pregnant.

“Who was that?” one of the editors asked her bluntly as Bill left.

“His name is Harry,” she said mysteriously, “his wife died several months ago.” She was paraphrasing his new plot for his soap, but of course no one knew it. “…She was Helen's best friend …” The editor raised an eyebrow, shook his head, and went back to work, as Adrian went back to work too. And when he turned to look back at her as he left, he saw that she was smiling.





SEPTEMBER SPED BY WITH HARD WORK AND HAPPY nights, and blissful weekends. And toward the end of the month, people were beginning to suspect that she was pregnant. She was almost six months, and no matter how loose her clothes, it was easy to figure out that there was something beneath them. She had not asked for maternity leave yet, though, and she had decided to work till the very end, and take time off after it was born, which seemed simpler.