A Natural Father (15 page)

She turned from the mirror and saw that he was, indeed, fully dressed and reclining on the bed, arms behind his head as he waited patiently.

“Right. Sorry. Won’t be long.”

“No rush. I like watching you turn yourself into a man-trap.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She smiled to cover the wave of guilt that swept through her. He was the perfect husband. Her soul mate. Her better half.

She didn’t deserve him. Not by a long shot.

Her hand was shaking when she slid the wand back into the tube.

That’s what you get for being a liar,
she told herself.

Lucy’s advice sounded inside her head for the fiftieth time since their heart to heart:
talk to him.

Simple words but they opened the door to a whole world of doubt and fear.

Rosie and Andrew handled on average sixty divorces a year. She’d sat opposite puffy-eyed men and women more times than she could count, listening to tales of woe and acrimony and disillusionment. She knew better than anyone the kinds of issues that killed marriages. Whether to have children or not was right at the top of the list, rubbing shoulders with money problems and old-fashioned infidelity.

You can’t go on like this,
a little voice whispered in her ear as she smoothed on lipstick.

She knew it was true, but the alternatives terrified her.

“Want me to call the cab yet?” Andrew asked. They’d decided to catch a taxi to and from Dom’s place so they could both drink without worrying about driving.

“Um, sure. I only need another few minutes,” she said.

She could hear him confirming their address for the automated taxi service as she checked her hair and slid her earrings into her ears. The pearls Andrew had bought her for their eighth anniversary were cool against her skin as she fixed the clasp around her neck.

“Five minutes,” he said as he ended the call. “Just long enough for me to ruin your lipstick.”

He crowded into the bathroom behind her, his arms sliding around her waist. He angled his head into her neck and pressed a kiss against her nape.

“You smell so good.”

She watched him in the mirror, her love for him so strong inside her it brought tears to her eyes.

I don’t want to lose you, I love you so much,
she told him in her head.

“Hey, I just remembered. Do you have cash for the cab? I meant to go to the bank earlier but I forgot,” he said.

“I’m tapped out, too. We’ll have to stop at an ATM on the way to the party,” she said.

He grunted his agreement and pressed his face into her neck again.

“Oh, wait. There’s a fifty in the zip pocket in my work bag. Lucy’s share of the water bill,” she said.

“I’ll grab it. Your bag in the study?”

“Yep.”

He left the room, and she hit her pulse points with one last spray of perfume before moving into the bedroom to collect her coat and evening bag. She wondered how Lucy was doing, aware that a lot was riding on the success of tonight’s party. Dom and Lucy had set themselves the target of signing up a quarter of their existing customers to their new Web-based order system by the night’s end. Rosie had confidence in their combined skills, but she wished that every hurdle wasn’t quite so high and quite so urgent for her sister. Lucy deserved to catch a break.

Then she thought of Dom and corrected herself. Her sister had already scored the biggest break of them all—she just hadn’t recognized it yet.

She heard the sound of a car engine out the front and tweaked the curtain aside to check out the window.

“Taxi’s here,” she called.

There was no response from the study. Which was when she registered how long it had taken Andrew to collect the money.

She’d completely forgotten—

It hadn’t occurred to her—

She strode through the house on legs that felt like lead.

His head came up as she stopped in the doorway. She didn’t need to see the shiny foil strip in his hand to understand that he knew. It was in his face, in the hurt, shocked disbelief in his eyes.

She felt dizzy. As though she needed to sit down and throw up and scream all at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Andrew fingered the packet of contraceptive pills, his thumb pressing into the little indent where today’s pill used to live.

“Did you stop at all? Was there ever a chance?” he asked.

She swallowed, the sound very noisy in the too quiet room.

“The first month. But then I…I filled the rest of my prescription.”

A car horn sounded from outside the house.

“That’s the taxi,” she said lamely.

Andrew stared at her for a long moment, then he stood and walked past her, angling his body very carefully so that they didn’t brush against each other in the doorway. As though he couldn’t stand touching her.

And why not? She’d betrayed him, made a fool of him. Lied to him every day. Had sex with him and let him hope each time that they were making a child when in fact she’d made very sure they weren’t. Commiserated with him when her period came. Talked about what it would be like when it didn’t come, the plans they’d make.

She heard the front door click shut and Andrew’s footsteps in the hall. She gathered herself and went to join him.

“I’m ready now,” she said.

He gave her a disbelieving look.

“I sent the cab away.”

Of course he had. They weren’t going to Lucy’s party, not after what had just happened. Crazy to even think it, but she couldn’t seem to think at all right now.

“I can explain,” she said.

“Can you?”

She didn’t like the way he looked at her, couldn’t stand the unfamiliar, angry hardness in his eyes.

“I should have said something earlier.”

His eyebrows rose. “
Earlier?
The only reason we’re having this conversation at all is because I found the pills in your bag.”

She pressed her hand to her throat.

“Just tell me one thing. How far were you willing to go?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Why couldn’t she think? All she could see was the anger in his eyes, and all she could hear was the thump of her panicked heart.

“Weeks, months? How long did you figure it would take for me to lose heart and accept it wasn’t going to happen for us?”

“It wasn’t like that,” she stammered. And it was true. She hadn’t planned or plotted. There was no method to her madness—she’d been acting on pure, fear-driven instinct.

“You’ll forgive me if I find it hard to believe a word you say right now,” he said.

She took a step toward him, but he raised a hand to ward her off and she stopped in her tracks. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Jesus. I can’t believe this, Rosie.”

He walked past her to their bedroom. Tears burned at the back of her eyes but for some reason they didn’t fall. She took a deep breath, then another. Reason told her to give him a moment to calm down, but instinct drove her to chase him, to throw herself at his feet and explain and beg forgiveness.

Andrew was at the wardrobe with an armful of clothes when she entered.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Then she saw the open suitcase on the bed behind him.

“Please don’t. Oh God. Can’t we talk about this?” she begged.

Andrew tossed the clothes into the case.

“Now you want to talk?”

“I’m sorry. I know what I did was wrong but I was so scared and I didn’t know how to raise it with you. I just needed to buy some time, that’s all.”

He didn’t stop throwing clothes in the case. Far more than he needed for one night, she noted. Bile surged up the back of her throat.

“You don’t want kids,” he said flatly.

“That’s not it,” she said.

He nailed her with a look. God, even now she had trouble getting the truth out of her mouth.

“I don’t know,” she said more honestly. “I have reservations.”

“Right.”

He crossed to the chest of drawers and began tossing underwear and socks into the open case. He didn’t say anything more, and she watched him with growing panic.

“Please, Andrew, say something,” she said.

“I don’t know what to say to you right now. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“I’m not saying I definitely don’t want kids. I just need more time to get used to the idea.”

“This is not about whether we have kids or not, Rosie!” he said, anger in every line of his body. “You lied to me. You looked me in the eye and lied to me
every freaking day.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, because she could think of nothing else to say. There was no excuse or explanation for her actions. Reasons, yes, but nothing that made what she did more palatable or forgivable.

“I thought you were my best friend. I thought we were going to grow old together, that I could trust you with anything,” he said.

“You can. I am,” she said.

He shook his head. “No.”

She gasped at his stark denial. He zipped the case shut.

“Please don’t go. We can work this out. We just need to keep talking,” she said.

He hefted the case off the bed.

“Not tonight.”

“Please. Please don’t go.”

They’d never spent a night apart because of an argument. They’d never even gone to bed angry. The thought of letting him walk out the door made her dizzy all over again.

“I can’t be with you right now,” Andrew said.

He stood in front of her, the case in one hand. She looked into his face, tried to summon the words that would make everything all right. Nothing came.

She stepped to one side and he moved past her. She trailed him to the front door.

“Where will you go?” she asked again.

“Does it matter?”

“Can you at least call me and let me know where you’re staying?”

“Fine.”

He could barely look at her. She reached for him, needing to touch him. He stiffened as her hands found the lapels on his jacket.

“I love you, Andrew. Please believe that I never meant to hurt you,” she said.

He just looked at her until she let her arms fall.

She watched him walk down the path to the carport. He threw his case in the backseat and started the car. Then he was reversing down the driveway. And then he was driving off into the night.

She stood on the threshold well after the echo of the engine had died away.

He’d gone. He’d really gone.

Panic and fear and regret and hurt threatened to choke her. She barely made it to the bathroom before she lost her dinner to the toilet bowl. Her anniversary pearls clanked against the porcelain as she rested her elbows on the seat.

What have you done? What have you done?

And how would she ever make it up to him?

Her mouth bitter with bile, she sank to the floor. She opened her mouth on a soundless cry as the tears came.

What have you done?

Vaguely she was aware that Rosie and Andrew were late. Around 9:00, her cell phone beeped with a text message from her sister:

Not feeling well. Sorry. Catch up tomorrow. Good luck.

It was unlike her sister to text instead of call. And Rosie had seemed fine when she saw her earlier in the day. Lucy wondered for a moment if she should call home to make sure everything was okay. Then one of her customers approached her to ask some questions about the site and she pushed her sister to the back of her mind. Andrew would take care of Rosie if she was feeling under the weather.

As the night wore on, the feeling of nervous anticipation in Lucy’s blood settled. Their clients were having a good time, and by 10:00 almost half of them had signed up for Market Fresh’s Internet-based service, well beyond her and Dom’s target for the evening. Dom’s father had overcome his social nerves and was holding forth on the patio, and a hum of convivial goodwill filled Dom’s house.

They’d pulled it off.

At 10:30, she glanced across the room and caught Dom’s eye. He smiled and raised his champagne glass. She raised her orange juice, pulling a sad face to let him know she’d rather have bubbles. He laughed and something undeniable caught her in the chest.

He was so beautiful. So wonderful.

And he loved her.

Unexpected tears stung her eyes as the full import of his declaration hit her. This man—this incredible, amazing man—loved her. He’d shown her in a million different ways how much she meant to him. He’d saved her business, helped save her baby’s life, stood by her and supported her even when she pushed him away.

She blinked rapidly. Across the room, he frowned. She watched as he put down his drink, preparing to come to her side. Quickly she shook her head, gesturing for him to stay where he was. If he came to her now, she didn’t think she would be able to trust herself.

He stopped, the frown still on his face. She forced a smile and turned to the nearest customer. Slowly, the rush of emotion ebbed. She told herself it had simply been the excitement of the evening. Nothing more.

Her feet were aching by the time they ushered the last guests from the house. Dom’s father went smiling, full of bonhomie after an evening of playing the expert. Most of their clients went home happy, full of food and wine, clutching brochures for Market Fresh’s Web site.

Dom sighed as he shut the door on the last customer and leaned against it.

“Done.”

“Like a dog’s dinner,” she said.

He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think I have kissed so much butt in my entire life.”

She laughed. “At least it was for a good cause.”

They returned to the living room and surveyed the damage: glasses and plates of half-eaten food everywhere, platters of finger food on every flat surface. The caterers had left over an hour ago and would only return to collect their glassware and serving platters in a few days’ time.

“Oh boy,” she said.

Dom shook his head.

“Forget about it. You go home and I’ll take care of this tomorrow.”

She toed her shoes off. “If we at least do some of it now, it won’t be so bad,” she said.

She crossed to the kitchen and started to empty wineglasses into the sink.

“Lucy, go home,” he said with a laugh. “What is it with Italian women? They never know when to stop.”

He was behind her, and he reached over her shoulder to pluck a glass from her hand.

“I want to help,” she said.

The truth was, she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She didn’t want the night to be over. Which was stupid, because she had to go home. The alternative was…well, reckless, to say the least.

“We’ve got a ton of stuff to go over tomorrow. You can help by getting a good night’s sleep,” he said.

She half turned toward him, then turned away again. She couldn’t say what she wanted to say while looking at him. She reached for the edge of the counter and gripped it tightly.

“What if I don’t feel like sleeping?” she asked.

She closed her eyes, immediately wishing the words unsaid.

She had to be crazy. She was pregnant, huge. Dom may have kissed her once and told her that he was interested in something more and maybe even indicated that he might love her but she’d gone from round to bulging since then.

There was a profound silence. She heard Dom take a deep breath.

“Lucy.”

She knew she had to face him. She let go of the counter and slowly turned.

He was standing very close and her stomach brushed his hip. Finally she met his eyes.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” he asked.

“Yes. If you think it means I’m asking if you’d like me to stay the night. If you’re still interested, that is.”

He went very still. She had no idea what was going on behind his eyes. She could feel heat burning its way up her neck and into her cheeks.

“You know how I feel about you,” he said. His voice was very low, very deep.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, sort of,” she said. Her hands fluttered pointlessly in the air between them. As though he needed more clues that she had no idea what she was doing. Even at the best of times she was no femme fatale. Now, tonight…she felt about as sleek and sexy as a Volkswagen.

His mouth quirked into a little smile.

“Maybe I should repeat myself,” he said.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and he leaned forward. She closed her eyes as his lips found hers. Warm and firm, his mouth moved over hers. Then his tongue was in her mouth and she was tasting heat and wine and need. Her hands found his shoulders, curling into his collar in case he tried to pull away before she’d had her fill of him. She angled her head to give him more access, but he pulled away from her and broke the kiss.

They were both panting. They stared at each other across the few inches that separated them.

“This isn’t just tonight for me, Lucy,” he said.

His voice had a tremble in it. It gave her the courage she needed to take the leap of faith he was asking of her. He’d asked her to trust him. She did. He’d told her he wasn’t going anywhere. He hadn’t. And he’d told her he cared. That he loved her. Tonight, she chose to believe him.

“I know that. This isn’t just about tonight for me, either,” she said. “I don’t know why this has happened in my life right now. The timing couldn’t be worse. I’m not exactly at my best. I’m definitely not a great catch. But I can’t look at you and not want to touch you. And I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’m sick of trying to be sensible when so much of me wants to believe….”

His face softened and his gaze traveled over her features.

“Believe,” he said, then he kissed her again.

This time his arms slid around her, pulling her close. Her belly pressed into his, but she forgot all self-consciousness as need long denied swept through her.

It had been a long time since she’d felt sexy or attractive. A long time since she’d allowed herself to be a woman and not a mother-to-be. A long time since she’d been with anyone except Marcus.

But the way Dom kissed…He made her knees weak, stole the air from her lungs. Brought all the forgotten parts of her body roaring back to life.

His mouth slid from her mouth to kiss a trail up her cheekbone to her ear. She shivered as he circled the curve of her ear with his tongue, then sucked lightly on her neck. She let her head drop back and moaned as he pressed openmouthed kisses to her throat again and again. It felt so good, he felt so good.

She ran her hands over his shoulders, her fingers digging into the big muscles of his back as Dom began to kiss his way down her neck. One of his hands slid up her side to cup her breast, and she shuddered as white-hot desire raced through her.

Had she ever felt so hungry for a man’s touch? Had she ever been so desperate to feel skin against skin?

His thumb grazed her nipple once, twice. She grabbed his shoulders, not sure how much longer she could support her own weight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dom murmured as he kissed his way down into her cleavage. “So beautiful.”

She bit her lip as he nuzzled the neckline of her dress then tugged the fabric to one side to reveal the stretch lace of her black bra. She closed her eyes as his hand closed over her, warm and large, then he was pushing the lace to one side and his hot mouth was on her breast.

“Oh!” she said. “That feels so good.”

She felt him smile against her skin. Then he lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

“Come to bed?” he asked. There was still doubt in his eyes. She liked that, liked that not for a second did he take her for granted.

“Yes.”