Marriage On Demand (17 page)

"You're with kids all the time. You'll be fine."

"I don't know." She wrinkled her nose. "I think it's going to be different when the child is ours. That is, if you plan to be part of your child's life."

Your child. He dropped his hand to his side as a coldness swept over him. She was worried about being a mother when she had years of experience being with children. How the hell was he supposed to be any kind of a father? He'd met his own father once about twelve years ago. The brief meeting had been hostile, with the older man threatening to have
Austin
arrested for trespassing if he ever dared bother him again.

Could he risk it? Could he allow himself to get involved with a baby, try to guide a young child, a teenager? What did he know about growing up? His life had been a collection of different homes and relatives, of knowing he didn't fit in and wasn't wanted. He had nothing to offer a child. He didn't know the first thing about being a father.

He turned away.

"
Austin
, wait." He felt her slender hand on his back. "Don't be afraid. I know you don't have a lot of experience with kids, but you'd be a great father. Look at how you are with David."

He shook off her touch and walked to the far side of the workshop. What did she know? Could she smell the fear, taste it, as he could? Was she able to see into the blackness and know the truth about him? Dear God, not that. No one could ever know. He barely acknowledged the truth himself

They were so different, he and Rebecca. She came from a warm, loving home. Her parents were still married to each other. Her only act of defiance against all the rules had been sleeping with him. The irony caught him off guard. He was the only bad thing in her life, and she was his only act of decency. Of course he'd screwed that up royally by sleeping with her.

Why couldn't she have married
Wayne
and left him the hell alone?
Wayne
would have been a great father. He had probably been born to the job.

A little voice whispered that
Wayne
was gone and he was here. Rebecca wasn't carrying the other man's child. She wasn't
Wayne
's fiancée anymore. None of it helped. He was still jealous of a dead guy. Stupid, but true.

"I don't care if I know what I'm doing or not," he said, turning back to look at her. She stood where he'd left her. Waiting. How long would she wait, hoping for a miracle? Would he see that hope fade slowly, day after day, or would it die quickly? He couldn't lie to himself. If he convinced Rebecca to marry him she would believe in him, in them. She would want it all. He could offer her nothing but his name and his money. Eventually she would figure out it wasn't enough. But she would stay because of the child, and that was all that mattered.

"I'll do my best," he said. "I want us to get married and give our child a home."

"Why should I?" she asked. "I don't need to get married to have the baby. You don't need to get married to give this child your name. Why is getting married so important?" She folded her arms over her chest and tapped one foot.

He hadn't expected that kind of an argument. "I could take care of you," he said, not sure what she was looking for. "There's plenty of money. You wouldn't have to work if you didn't want to. What are you going to do when you're eight or nine months along? I can provide health care, arrange for a nanny, even a nurse. It's hard raising a child on your own. Believe me, my mother made sure I knew how hard. It would be easier if you had someone to help."
Most of all, I don't want my child to be a bastard
. But he couldn't bring himself to say that.
 
Rebecca already knew about that part of his life.

"How practical," she said. "All the advantages are mine. What do you get out of it?"

I get to know my kid's okay
. He didn't say that, either. "That's not important. Isn't it enough that I want to do this?"

"No." She walked toward him. When they were less than a foot apart, she placed her hands on his chest. "I'm not always a practical person. What if I want to marry for love?"

"I thought you loved
Wayne
."

Slowly she shook her head. "
Wayne
was the love of my youth. I'll never know what would have become of that. But he's gone. I've let him go. What if I want to hold out for love and passion? What if I want the fairy tale?"

His chest burned where she touched him. He could feel the heat circling through him. He could show her passion in a hot minute, but he suspected that wasn't all she was talking about. It wasn't just about sex. It was that something more. He'd seen it occasionally lurking in the eyes of a few of his lovers. Even though they'd known the rules of the game, sometimes they'd stared at him and he'd seen their hopeful expressions. He knew what they wanted, and he was confident he didn't have it to give.

"I don't know any fairy tales," he said. "I don't believe in love."

She didn't flinch or back away, and he was again reminded of her subtle strength. "Do you believe in anything? Do you at least like me, Austin?"

"Yeah. I like you."

"Tell me why."

Slowly he reached up and touched her hair. The long curly strands slipped against his finger. Raw silk, he thought. He could tell her that her hair was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and touched. But he didn't. He dropped his hands to her shoulders and his gaze to her breasts. He could tell her that she had driven him past reason in bed, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, of being with her, in her, touching her in wildly sensual ways she would never have imagined.

But he didn't. His gaze moved back to her mouth and he could hear her voice, the sound of her laughter. He could tell her that he could listen to her talk for all eternity. Her beliefs, her innocence, her faith, all delighted and shamed him.

He could tell her that she made him hope, even though hope was painful. But he didn't. He found a truth because she deserved one, but it was a safe truth.

"I like you because you think of the children first," he said.

She tilted her head slightly and pursed her lips together. "Okay. I guess I buy that. Kiss me."

"What?"

"Kiss me. I mean a real kiss. Kiss me like you want me."

Finally, something he could handle. As he bent his head closer to hers, he thought it was a strange request, then realized he didn't care. He'd spent the past several days remembering the last time he'd kissed her. It was definitely something he wanted to do again.

As always the first brush of her lips made him realize how warm and tender she was. She raised her hands to his face, holding him close to her. He tried to be gentle, moving softly against her mouth, but she wouldn't let him. She raised herself on tiptoe, and angled her head. Then her tongue pushed past his, invading his mouth, sending fire racing in all directions.

She sucked on his lower lip and murmured his name. Her hands slipped from his face to his shoulders, then down his back. Slender fingers reached for, then gripped, his rear. Involuntarily he tilted his pelvis forward, pressing his manhood against her belly. A minute ago, he hadn't thought of making love with her. Now his body was hard and ready.

Her tongue continued to play against his. He chased hers back so he could taste her sweetness. His hands roamed her torso, tracing the line of her spine, then circling around to cup her breasts.

He raised his head long enough to glance at the workbench. It was plenty long and wide, although it wouldn't be that comfortable. Of course, Rebecca could be on the top. Then he could cushion her from the wooden surface.

Before he could voice his opinion on the matter, her hand moved from his rear to his hip, across the front of his jeans to the length of his desire. She cupped him lightly. He sucked in a breath and arched against her, wishing there wasn't anything between his heated flesh and her palm. He wanted her like he'd never wanted another woman.

The thought was like being doused with cold water. His desire didn't fade, but his rational mind had a chance to take hold. He dropped one of his hands over hers. After squeezing gently, teasing himself with the potential release, he drew her fingers away. This wasn't supposed to be about him at all. This was supposed to be about the baby and convincing Rebecca to marry him.

He stared down at her, at the passion darkening her eyes. Her mouth was damp from his kisses, her face flushed. He could see the hard points of her nipples though the fabric of her dress.

"That was some kiss," she said, her voice throaty. "I like you, too, Austin. Does that surprise you?"

It did, but he just shrugged. He lowered his arms to his sides. She kept one of her hands on his waist. He hated that he liked the feel of her touching him.

"I like that you're good to me and the children. I like how you are with David. You want to think the worst of your self. I'm not sure why."

It was because he knew the truth. But he couldn't explain that to her. He hoped she never had a reason to fine out.

"I don't love you," she went on, "but I respect you."

It was enough, he told himself. Better, in fact. Anyone who cared about him too much would end up finding out he wasn't worth the trouble.

"And I will marry you."

He told himself that the emotion filling him was relief and that he pulled her into his arms to thank her and not to keep her from reading his expression.

"You won't regret it," he said, burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair. "I'm not
Wayne
or anything like him but I'll do my best to be a decent father and husband." The words sounded foreign. What did they mean? Could he do it? He was going to have to try.

"I'm not looking for a replacement for
Wayne
." She pushed him back until she could see his face. "Believe me I don't need another relationship like that. I want to marry you. For the baby, even for me a little, I think, and because of who you are."

He knew that if she really knew him, she would turn away in disgust. He could tell her, but she wouldn't believe it. "I'll do everything I can to keep you from regretting your decision."

She giggled. "That sounds ominous. This is going to be hard on both of us. How about if we both promise to try to make it work? Isn't that better?"

"Sure."

"So when's the, uh, wedding?" She blushed as she asked the question, ducking her head as if she expected him to get angry.

"How about in a couple of weeks? That'll give you time to hire someone to take your place at the home."

She stared at him as if he'd suggested she eat a live chicken. "Take my place? You expect me to quit my job?"

"No." He brushed a strand of hair off her face. "You'd mentioned you were going to be hiring someone to take over nights. Once you're married, we'll be living together. So you'll be sleeping here. With me."

"Oh, my." She bit her lower lip. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Did you assume we'd live apart?" For some reason the thought annoyed him, though he tried not to let on.

"No. Not really. I guess I didn't think about it at all. I just sort of figured we'd get married, but everything else would go on the same. I'm concerned about the children being alone at night."

"They won't be alone. Someone else will be with them."

"But after the fire, they need me."

"Why? Aren't they usually asleep? They probably won't even know you're gone."

He watched as compassion warred with the common sense of his argument. "But I'll know. I have to think about them."

He touched her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. Sunlight filtered in from a window in the far wall, highlighting her features. He thought about the first time he'd seen her. It had been at some meeting about raising money for a new park. She'd made part of the presentation. In her flowing floral dresses, with her long hair and luminous skin, she'd reminded him of a stunning piece of art. Some perfect porcelain figurine, breathed to life by a tender wind.

Get real, he told himself. He had no time for fanciful thoughts. She was a woman, nothing else. But she sure was beautiful.

"You have to think about the baby," he said. "You can't keep running around using up all your time and energy.
There's
more than just you to consider. "

"I hadn't thought of that," she admitted. "Okay. I'll hire someone. If there's a problem I'll be close enough to go right over. Two weeks, then."

He nodded.

"Can we invite Travis and Elizabeth?" she asked.

"We can invite anyone you'd like. If you have family or other friends."

Rebecca shook her head and stepped away from him. "I don't think so. Let's keep this private. Travis and Elizabeth are enough for me." He remembered then that she was one of three girls. He'd destroyed her dreams of a big wedding complete with a couple of bridesmaids and an orchestra to play the first waltz. What other dreams was he going to cost her? "Maybe we could get married in the afternoon, then go with them for an early dinner," she said.

But he wasn't thinking about the wedding. He was promising himself with an intensity he normally avoided that he would do anything, go to any lengths, to make Rebecca happy. Not because she might love him. God help
him, that
was the last thing he needed or wanted. But because she'd agreed to marry him. Because she was having his child. And because she was the only decent thing in his otherwise empty life.