A Daring Proposition (16 page)

“I am, too. It’s late.” He switched off the lighting again, and with an ice-filled drink in his hand followed her down the hall, hesitating at the doorway of the scarlet bedroom. “What do you mean— ‘at least two’?” he asked again impatiently.

Leigh took a nightgown and robe into the bathroom. “My dad was a twin,” she called from there, “although my uncle died before I ever met him. And Dad’s dad was a twin, too, although I never met him either. It was hard enough getting together with my grandfather—he lived in San Francisco. Died a year after my dad did.” She emerged from the bathroom, her hair newly brushed and a powder-blue robe wrapped around her.

“Leigh, why didn’t you mention the possibility of twins when you first came to my office?” He stood still, leaning against the doorjamb, very much the forbidding stranger she had first met many months ago. Mechanically, she moved to the pedestaled bed and slowly pulled down the scarlet cover in careful folds.

“It’s not really all that likely,” she said placatingly. “A little more than for most people.”

“You should have told me before we made our visit to the doctor.”

She did not want to argue with him. She turned on a lamp and slipped in on the side of the monstrously huge bed, reaching for the book on the nightstand. “One or two or ten didn’t matter then,” she said in a deliberately soothing tone. “All that mattered was that together we could produce a healthy child, that what gifts I could give it through inheritance—”

“Which twins are. An inherited trait.”

She opened the book with a cross expression for him. “I meant important things—health, intelligence—”

“There’s an additional risk to your life, isn’t there, with twins? Complications are more common. The pregnancy can be more difficult. Coping afterwards is
obviously
more difficult.”

“Women rarely die in childbirth anymore,” she replied. “The birth of twins is often quicker and easier because the babies are smaller than average. I’m a very healthy lady, Brian.”

“I can’t believe you would conceal the possibility of twins from me,” he said harshly.

His accusing tone struck her as unreasonable, but deeper than that she felt a chill inside at the sudden breach between them. “Brian, if you’re angry because you feel that twins would be an additional burden on you, please don’t worry,” she said. “I knew from the beginning that children didn’t fit into your lifestyle. We both did. And I knew from the beginning, I think…that this marriage wouldn’t suit you forever. You want freedom, a peaceful home. That isn’t what a household with a baby is about. If you hadn’t already planned on leaving when the child was born—”

“Who said anything about leaving?” he broke in. “For that matter, where did you come up with the notion that I don’t like children?” he said furiously. “Did you see me beat my nephews and nieces at Christmas?”

“No,” she admitted, with a wary smile. “But that’s not the same thing as having a child around all the time, one you can’t escape from.” She hesitated. She had thought, all day, about the two of them. The more she loved him, the less she could accept his staying with her out of a sense of responsibility.

He leaned over the bed, pulling back the covers from her lap. She clung stubbornly to the book in her hand. “Damn it,” he said wryly. “It’s not easy for you to give up an ounce of independence, is it? You’re so damned stubborn.”

“I am not. You make it sound so… I just want you to understand that you don’t have to feel trapped.”

He chuckled, the last of the chill in his expression softening. “Idiot, Red. Come on.” He took the book from her hands and switched off the light. “This mattress is too soft. Mine’s better, and it’ll be a lot easier to find you in the middle of the night, besides.”

So she was sleeping with him? It certainly hadn’t felt like that a moment ago. Rather nervously, she slipped her legs over the side and stood up, glancing covertly at him. They were married; married people slept together. But they were hardly a typical married couple, and she didn’t have any idea what the rules were after the night before. “If you’re still angry,” she started hesitantly.

“Furious,” he corrected lazily as he prodded her toward the doorway. “And if you have any other tidbits of medical information you’ve failed to pass on, you’d better do it now.”

She shook her head, smiling softly as they walked down the hall to his room. “There’s nothing.”

“How I would like to believe you,” he said ironically, “but somehow, Red, you’ve been throwing me nothing but curveballs from the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Without switching on the light, he moved ahead of her to draw down the spread and blankets. She slipped in, with her head toward the window as she heard him take off his clothes. In the darkness, she could feel it, an electrical charge, a rush, as if all day her blood had been sluggish and was suddenly racing. She felt an acute sense of shyness, mixed with anticipation.

His weight depressed the mattress next to her. He leaned over her, his palm gently covering her violent heartbeat and then gliding up to her chin as he pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. “No, Red,” he whispered. “Tell that pulse of yours that one of us is new at this game.”

“What?” She reached up, her fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, already mesmerized by the softness of his eyes in the dark.

“You need your rest,” he said firmly. Gently, he removed her exploring fingers, curling her back to the mold of his chest, and settled in like a man seeking rest.

It was…interesting, she thought vaguely, being rejected out of consideration. She pondered that for a while, and then she decided Brian knew a bit too much about women, whereas she knew disgracefully little about men.

She turned toward him restlessly, slipping an arm around his waist and nestling her cheek in his shoulder. His chest was bare, his hair furry-soft on her smooth flesh above the nightgown. He wore pajama bottoms—in honor of that rest he said she needed? She slid a knee between his and relaxed, closing her eyes. The fit was perfect.

“Leigh.”

“Mmm.” She curled closer yet to the sudden change in his heartbeat, to the swell of hardness pressing against her stomach. He shifted. Gradually, she shifted with him, the feeling of being close to him inducing a lazy somnolence that was pleasing all in itself. Somewhat.

“Red.”

“Mmm.”

His palm suddenly stroked up her arm to the hollow of her collarbone, and then his fingers splayed in the thickness of her hair with far too much tension for a man who was nearly asleep. “You’ve had much too little rest the last few days,” he whispered roughly.

“True,” she whispered back obediently. “But I can’t seem to sleep just yet. Would you rather I moved to the other bed, Brian?”

He did not want her to move away. His body tensed in total rejection of that idea. He knew so much, her arrogant lover: how to break impregnable shells, how to bridge the strongest defenses…yet not enough, not that night, to turn down a lady who wanted to love him. And this time it wasn’t
being
loved that was on her mind, but learning to return the loving sensations he had brought to her.

Her hands glided over muscle and bone, sinew and flesh. Her lips trailed, a little shyer, uncertain of his response. She was not a femme fatale and had no weapons against the kind of sexually experienced women he played with. She had only love. And yet he suddenly gave in, bending over her with restless, drugging kisses. It thrilled her to know that her hands had the power to make him lose that endless control of his.

She could not seem to stop touching him. The feel of his hair, the way the flesh of his shoulders became pliant in her hands, the way his body took on heat when she reached between his thighs. And the way he looked at her when he surged over her, that instant before she knew he was going to take her…her arms raised, drawing him down to her, drawing him into that moist, silky darkness. It was Leigh’s nature to give and to reach out in loving; and now she could love totally, with no shadows of the past intruding.

On the surface the cocktail party for Brian’s clients went very well. Leigh had made the drinks and canapés ahead of time and the condominium was spotless. She’d felt a surge of ambition right from the beginning, a need to have the meeting go well for Brian and a hope that she would have the chance to soothe a few troubled waters. Brian made no secret of not liking the Harrises. In fact, even before they got there, he’d made it clear that they could take his design or leave it; he had done all the compromising he intended to do. Feeling ultra-feminine in a water-colored dress that swirled to her knees and showed off her tan, Leigh knew the project meant more to him than he let on and acted accordingly.

Phil Harris was around sixty and a perfect stand-in for Colonel Sanders; Leigh wished she could weather his heavy-handed humor with a bourbon—or four—but because of her pregnancy, she could only sip her ginger ale and smile. His wife, Irene, dressed fussily in lavender, was a nonstop talker. The business manager of the group was Jackson Cunningham, a short man with small cat’s eyes that seemed to miss very little of what went on around him. He refused food or drink or any other kind of entertainment; he had his mind strictly on business until Leigh finally ferreted out an interest in fishing. She was able to raise no smiles, but still felt a modicum of success when she at least got him to sit down and stop his restless roving while waiting for the others to get down to brass tacks.

Phil’s son, Dan Harris, was as tall as Brian and as thin as a sapling, with light hair and colorless eyes. He had as much interest in business as a cat in swimming; he cared only for the profits in this deal, and was eager to talk money. Rita, Dan’s wife, was a dark-haired beauty in a red peasant-styled dress. Leigh felt an instant antipathy toward her when she positioned herself on the arm of Brian’s chair, leaning over, talking and laughing intimately with him. No one else seemed to notice, or perhaps they were used to her, or perhaps they just didn’t care. But Leigh cared: Rita’s behavior, and the way Brian seemed to lap it up, reminded her forcefully of how tenuous a hold she had on her husband.

After the better part of an hour, Phil finally brought up business and the glasses were set down. A few details were argued, and then Brian’s proposal was accepted. A basic contract was set before him, to be returned in the morning after he’d looked it over. Finally the Harrises and Jackson Cunningham rose as a group to leave. When the door was closed behind them, Leigh gave an audible sigh of relief. The next time Brian described people as being “difficult,” she would be more inclined to believe him. But it was all over now. He had his project, and Leigh felt a certain pride in having been part of that.

Brian, however, did not appear to be in a mood for rejoicing. With a fresh drink in his hand, he had opened the sliding doors to the balcony and was staring out over the ocean. Leigh started gathering the glasses and dishes to clean up, and as quietly as possible removed herself to the kitchen. It was obvious from the intent concentration on Brian’s face that he wanted no company. She had seen the beginnings of a brood coming on before. Without disturbing him, she snatched up a sweater and went out the back door for a few minutes of fresh air.

The sunset had just finished its color splash; the stars were barely visible and a faint hue of violet was still reflected on the horizon. Leigh reclined on a chaise longue on the small patio, feeling peace flood over her like a warm blanket.

Brian’s footsteps startled her some minutes later. She got up instantly with a smile of welcome, but the smile faded as she saw the tension in his face.

“You heard me tell the Harrises the project will take closer to four months than two,” he began abruptly.

“I heard you, Brian,” she answered quietly. “But so what? Not knowing how long we’d be away, I didn’t take on any new clients before we left. And you arranged things with your partners, so what’s the problem?”

“No problem at all,” he said tersely. “But surely you don’t think I’d let you stay here, away from your own doctor, and especially now that I know about the possibility of twins?”

“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” she told him. “Surely I can take a plane up once a month to see Dr. Franklin and—”

“My schedule will be crazy. I won’t have much time for you. You know how I am when I’m working on something big, Leigh.”

“Yes, I do know. And I understand. Brian, I love you—”

“You think you do,” he cut her off sharply. “Look, Leigh, I need some time to myself. I’m going for a walk.” And with that, he turned abruptly on his heel and left.

He was gone a long time. Leigh stayed outside until she was shivering in the damp cool air, shivering in apprehension as well. Why didn’t he want her to stay? Could it be that he was planning an affair with Rita Harris, and the presence of his wife—his pregnant wife—would cramp his style? Despair touched her heart.

An hour passed and then two, and finally she gave in to weariness, going inside to wash and undress for bed, listening intently for the sound of the door. The lights were off and she was under the covers when he finally came in.

“You’re going home, Leigh,” he told her flatly. It was a tone he had used before, one that brooked no discussion.

“Why?” She switched on the light by the bed, making no pretense of being any nearer sleep than she was. “What are you talking about?” She didn’t dare mention Rita, show herself as a jealous, shrewish wife. He had married her precisely because he’d thought he could do so and still retain his freedom.

He stripped off his tie, shirt, and then the rest of his clothes. “Leigh, I’m going to be very busy for the next few months. I won’t be there for you if you need me. At home you’ve at least got Robert around during the day if you don’t feel well, and you’re only a phone call away from your doctor.”

“Brian, Robert could come down here and stay,” she said reasonably. “We have room. It would do him good.”

He didn’t bother to look at her as he switched out the light and climbed into the other side of the bed. “I’ll book you a flight at the end of the week.”

“You can book a dozen flights if you want,” Leigh snapped.

Brian was silent for a long time. And then suddenly he switched on the light and turned to her. Leigh had her arms folded rigidly under her breasts and her eyes were ablaze with fury and unshed tears.

“It won’t work, Red. Not for me,” he said coldly. “Do I have to come right out and say I don’t want you here?”

She lowered her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the pain in them, and immediately turned away, lying on her side. The hurt nearly choked her. “I’ll book my own flight in the morning,” she said hoarsely.

He turned out the light again, and as if in a bad dream she felt his palm on the back of her neck, pretending to soothe with incredible gentleness. She jabbed back with her elbow; hit out at his hand. “You have to be joking, Brian! Leave me alone!” It was hard enough being told he didn’t want her, without revealing to him just how vulnerable she was where he was concerned. There wasn’t a chance in hell she would ever stay where she wasn’t wanted.

He drew her protesting furiously to the cradle of his chest.

A trickle of wetness slid down her cheeks, and she lodged her hands helplessly between the two of them. “I hate you!” she hissed.

“That’s just the problem, Leigh, you don’t,” he said gently. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re feeling? You’re so sure you’re in love with me, Red.” He gave her a penny of distance, and she reached up hurriedly to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. “It’s not love, Leigh. It’s only the feeling a woman has for the first man who’s made love to her. You’ll be fine once you get away from me. There hasn’t been too much time together…like this. You’re just in a hurry to love, now that you know what it’s about, and it shows in your every action. You’re going to get hurt if you stay here. A breather will do us both some good, and then we’ll see.”

She didn’t argue. She knew from the tone in his voice that there wasn’t any point. The threat of tears passed. She had never realized how much pride she had—until now, when it seemed to be the only thing she had. She sat up stiffly on the edge of the bed. “What I felt for you, Brian,” she said quietly, “was alive a long time before you made love to me.”

“Leigh,” he said gently.

She stood up to avoid the touch of his arm. “No,” she said firmly.

“You fought hard to have that child in you conceived,” he said harshly. “One of us has to think of what’s best for—”

“Oh, shut up, Brian!” Leigh stormed. If nothing else, she hoped to part from him with honesty. It was for his sake and not hers that she was leaving. She thought the less of him for not admitting it, when all of the humiliation was on her side. “I’ll take care of myself from now on, and the baby, too. I don’t want any more help from you of any kind! What’s ‘best for me’ no longer has anything to do with you!”

***

Leigh left before sunrise, being careful not to awaken Brian. She took only her purse and a small tote bag of belongings she always carried with her. There were no frequently scheduled flights from the Keys, so she knew she couldn’t count on getting a seat, particularly at this time of year. She ended up renting a car to Miami, because she had no choice.

By dinnertime she was back home in Chicago exhausted, hollow-eyed and thoroughly miserable after having been sick throughout most of the flight. She could hear Monster barking and Robert scolding the pup even before the door was opened. Outside, snow was still lush on the ground, although a thaw was forecast for the following week.

As soon as the door opened, Leigh threw her arms around Robert and burst into tears. “What on earth? Oh, honey,” Robert said, his voice familiarly soothing. His shock at seeing her—and alone—was clear, but being Robert he didn’t express anything but the comfort she so obviously needed. She was fed soup and crackers, regaled with a list of achievements Monster had failed to master and assured that she had been sorely missed.

“Got eighteen inches of snow one day.” The blizzard had shut down the city, and as Robert told Leigh the details he studied her every feature.

As she did his. Robert was so dear to her, and he didn’t look well. She had been gone less than two weeks; how could he have aged so rapidly? “Have you been feeling all right?” she asked sharply.

“God, you’re starting in already,” he groaned.

The kitchen table had never looked so good, with Robert’s wrinkled face on the other side of it. The silky black pup was nestled on the tips of Leigh’s shoes, fast asleep. The kitchen was and always had been her favorite room in the house, and even the memories of Brian here were pleasant ones. But Brian didn’t want her—she mustn’t think of him.

“So,” Robert said carefully, “I gather we’re not to mention his name, or talk about it?”

At times, Leigh thought sadly, Robert could be heart-breakingly sensitive. “I love you, Robert,” she said. “If I haven’t told you before—”

“You’ll give me indigestion,” he interrupted gruffly.

She smiled, or tried to. “I want to move, and sell this house. Do you think you’re up for it?”

“Why?” he demanded.

“Because…” Because she’d just had twelve hours in which to think of something else besides Brian. “I don’t know. There’s to be a new baby, and I don’t like the idea of crowding it with old memories. I’ve been happy enough here, for most of the time, but…my mother wasn’t. And David—certainly wasn’t a happy man.”

“A fresh start for the baby, is that it?”

She nodded, and poured herself a second cup of tea.

“You have a place in mind?”

“In a way.”

“Someplace that’s for sale?”

“I haven’t the least idea,” Leigh said frankly. “For a long time, there’s been a certain house I liked, Robert. I just thought I’d knock on the door tomorrow and ask—”

“You’re not serious, honey. You can’t do that.”

“Of course I can, Robert. I can do whatever I have to do to survive.”

***

Survival was the issue, for more than four months.
Long
ago, Leigh had determined what made a life worth waking up to: someone to care for, someone to love. She had Robert already, and soon she would have the baby, and never mind that the bleakness in her heart seemed to overshadow everything.

She survived the move and sale of the old place during her sixth month of pregnancy. By some miracle, the woman who lived in the new house had been debating moving closer to her relatives in the South and Leigh’s offer settled the issue. The house was Brian’s design, and Leigh had sought it out deliberately—not to continually torture herself with reminders of the past, but as a legacy for her child. The house was as perfect as she knew it would be, all space and serenity, and the use of glass and wood and earth textures seemed to bring the outside in. Her face grew gaunt as she worked feverishly with endless piles of boxes to pack and unpack, yards and yards of curtains to put up, and the baby’s room to decorate.

She survived Robert’s increasing frailty. He liked the house well enough because it was all on one floor, but each day it seemed harder for him to get around despite all of Leigh’s efforts to protect him. He’d taken the move in his stride, but the doctor’s confirmation that Leigh indeed was carrying twins had upset him greatly. “Leigh, you can’t handle it,” he cautioned her. “One will like nights and the other days—one will sleep while the other’s up…” She tried to console him by joking that at least it was not triplets, but his feeble smile didn’t hide the increasing lines of fatigue and worry on his face.

And she survived the phone calls and the mail. She had answered the phone that first time, the night of her homecoming, to hear Brian demanding to know why she had stolen from his side in the middle of the night.

“I would have driven you to the airport,” he said angrily. “For heaven’s sake, Leigh, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” she said frostily. “I’m perfectly fine, Brian. It’s just, well, I’ve had time to think. I’ve decided you’re right, we need a breather from each other. I see that I was mistaken after all. It was sex, not love, and I…well, I just can’t deal with it all right now. I have a million things to do in the next few months to prepare for the baby. I have to get a nursery ready—buy the crib, the layette, a playpen. Robert isn’t too well, either. He needs me. And you’re busy, too. When you come back to Chicago, we’ll talk.”