Page 55 of Tristan’s Temptation

“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Tristan whispered into her ear.

“Why not? They’re so cute.”

“She should be in school.”

Shannon laughed. “You, sir, are a curmudgeon.”

His eye went wide. “I am not a curmudgeon.”

“You are. Oh look.” Another stall, one with tiny clothes decorated with intricate embroidery, caught her eye. She stepped closer. “How adorable.”

“Baby clothes?”

Shannon stilled. One piece, an exquisite christening gown, snared her attention and something inside her quivered. It hit her again, and it hit her hard. She was going to have a baby. A baby who might wear a gown like this.

An emotion she’d never known welled up in her chest. She pulled the hanger from the rack and held the piece out. Once she touched it, she knew she had to have it.

“Cuánto?”

“You’re not going to buy that, are you?”

She froze. She’d forgotten. Forgotten he didn’t know. Forgotten she couldn’t tell him. She flashed him an enormous smile. “For my sister.”

“Is she expecting?”

“They’re trying.” She turned back to the vendor, a wrinkled old woman with the bright light of hope in her eyes. “Cuánto?”

The woman told her the price and though it was high, Shannon pulled out the money and paid for the little dress right then and there. As the woman wrapped the gown in tissue, Shannon struggled with feelings she couldn’t quite place. There was a happiness, a bone-deep elation, but it was wreathed in sadness. Regret.

She took the bag, trembling with the knowledge she’d just made the first purchase she would ever make for her child. Her child.

She would never forget this moment.

“Hey! Margaritas.” Tristan snapped his fingers like a flamenco dancer. “Do you want one?”

Shannon put her hand to her belly and wrinkled her nose. “I-I’d better not.”

“Oh yeah.” His face fell. “Are you still feeling queasy?”

“No.” She wasn’t. In fact, she felt wonderful. “But you go ahead. I want—” Heavens. What was that smell? She cast around the plaza until she found it. A fajita stand. Her mouth watered. Like a zombie, she made her way in that direction. “Umm. Fajitas.”

Tristan skipped along behind her. “Shannon. I don’t think you should have spicy foods.”

“Mmm. Onions. And peppers.” Her belly growled. She wanted nothing more than to eat and eat and eat.

He gave in eventually and they both had fajitas. He washed his down with a margarita and she had a bottle of water.

She had another fajita. And, to Tristan’s astonishment, another. On top of that she gobbled down two churros and a cup of ice cream.

“You’re amazing.” Tristan laughed as she licked the last little bit of ice cream from her cup and looked around for more.

She grinned. “Just making up for lost time, I guess.”

“I guess!”

They were walking back to the boat, hand in hand, when Tristan suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Shit!”

Shannon, perforce, stopped as well. “What is it?”