Surrogate and Wife (12 page)

In his eyes she needed saving. Just like all the other women he was attracted to. Once this was all over with and her job was secure, he'd realize she didn't need to be rescued. And then where would their relationship be?

Kate tried to keep up her end of the conversation, but
inside, her heart was…well, not breaking—nothing that dramatic—but her heart was definitely crimping. And she couldn't figure out why.

Their marriage was a business arrangement. Nothing more.

That was the rule
she'd
set out.

She certainly didn't harbor any secret hope about this marriage lasting beyond the six months they'd initially agreed on.

Did she?

Did it matter that Jake's ideal woman just happened to be the opposite of her?

No. Absolutely not.

Not one tiny little bit.

But he darn well could have mentioned it before now.

“S
o, you had a good time?” Jake prodded gently.

“Absolutely.”

He and Kate had left the party over an hour ago, and Kate had yet to give more than a one-word response to any of his questions. In the car he'd assumed she was just tired. But now that they were home, he realized something more than that was going on.

She was in full, closemouthed lockdown. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why.

“You seemed to get along fine with the other women.”

“Hmm,” she murmured in response.

Even when he hadn't been by her side, he'd kept a careful eye on her, watching for signs she was flailing about in the water, about to go under. He'd seen none.

In fact, the whole afternoon she'd seemed open and friendly, if nervous. The antithesis of how she seemed now as she stirred the milk she was heating on the stove.

“Lisa seemed to like you,” he pointed out.

This time she didn't answer, but for an instant she stilled and her hand clenched the wooden spoon she held. Then she began to stir the milk at a more furious pace. When he tried to run his hand down her arm, she deftly stepped out of his way.

Exhaling loudly in frustration, he propped his hip against the countertop beside the stove and crossed his arms over his chest. Ducking his head slightly to study her expression, he said, “Do you want to talk about—”

“No.”

Damn, she was not budging an inch. She wouldn't talk to him. She wouldn't let him touch her. Apparently, as far as she was concerned, he couldn't do anything right. And he didn't even know what he'd done wrong.

He pushed himself away from the counter and stalked over to the fridge for a Shiner Bock. He twisted off the top and shot it across the kitchen into the trash can.

Well, he'd tried. No one could say he hadn't.

Logic told him to take his beer to the living room, turn on the TV and veg out until she was over with whatever snit she'd worked herself into. Every scrap of common sense he had told him to just let it go.

But he couldn't do that.

He took a long draught of beer, then said, “You might as well come right out and tell me whatever's got you so pissed off, 'cause right now you're acting like a real pain in the—”

She spun around to face him, a flash of anger in her eyes. “You want to know why I'm angry?”

“Isn't that what I just said?”

“Fine. I'm angry because you should have told me you wanted to get married.”

He paused, beer half lifted to his mouth, able only to stare at her in confusion. “Huh?”

Her voice was curt with barely suppressed emotion. “If you wanted to get married, you should have told me. I shouldn't have had to hear it from Lisa today at the party.”

He studied her through narrowed eyes. “We are married.”

“Ugh!” She turned back around, gave her milk one last stir and then poured it into a waiting mug. “That's not what I meant. Before you and I got married… She said you'd always wanted to get married.”

“So?” He had no idea where this was going, but at least she was talking to him now.

She stalked toward the table and yanked out a chair. “I had always just assumed you weren't interested in marriage, that's all.”

“I don't see that it makes any difference whether or not I planned on getting married someday.”

“Well, it does. If I'd known that, I never would have asked you to marry me.”

“Why not?” Jake asked. “It's not like I had a fiancée waiting in the wings who got bumped aside to make way for you.”

Kate sighed, wishing she could explain. Or that she could rewind this whole conversation and start over again. This time trying just a little bit harder to sound like a rational human being.

The truth was, it hardly mattered whether or not he wanted to get married. His lie of omission wasn't what had upset her. That was just an excuse. No, her anger was based on something much more complicated than that. Mostly she just felt betrayed. She'd believed him when he said he admired her strength and indepen
dence. But what good was his
admiration
if those weren't the qualities he found attractive? And why, for, goodness' sake, had she let herself care what Jake thought about her?

Finding out she wasn't Jake's type fueled all her insecurities. It was like walking into a new foster home for the first time all over again. Once again having her hope and anticipation—emotions she'd fought so hard against—crushed. No way was she about to tell Jake all of that. “Well, you should have mentioned it, anyway,” she said huffily.

“It didn't come up. This whole thing happened pretty quickly, if I remember right. And I still don't see why this matters.”

She drew in a fortifying breath, flattened her palms on the table and forced herself to meet his gaze. “It matters because it makes our marriage even more of an inconvenience.”

“An inconvenience? Is that how you see this marriage?”

“Yes. For you, it has been.” She held up a hand to ward off his protests. “Don't bother trying to deny it. You've turned your whole life upside down for me. And now this.”

He pulled back the chair opposite hers and sank into it. “And that's why you were so angry? Because you think you've inconvenienced me?”

“Yes. I…I don't know. I suppose,” she said, lowering her gaze.

“Kate, I haven't done anything I wasn't willing to do. You didn't force me into anything.”

Exactly. He'd stepped in to rescue her. To be a hero. And he didn't have the faintest idea why that bothered her.

He reached across the table and nudged her chin up with his knuckle, forcing her to meet his gaze again. “I could have said no.”

“No, you couldn't have.” Her disappointment welled up inside of her and came out as a sigh. “It's not in your nature.”

“What about you? It's not like this whole thing has been convenient for you. You're the one actually carrying the baby. And it's your job that was at risk.”

At the mention of the baby, something inside her chest tightened. She didn't like to think of the baby as an inconvenience any more than she liked to think of their marriage that way. It cheapened both.

Gazing into his eyes, she saw a flicker of confusion cross his face as he dropped his hand and added, “Let's face it, neither of us got what we bargained for when we agreed to help Stew and Beth.”

She couldn't help but chuckle. “That's sure the truth.” His expression intensified and suddenly laughing was the last thing she felt like doing. “Don't you worry at all about…”

“About what?”

She hardly knew how to finish her thought. Worrying had become nearly a full-time profession for her. Was she sleeping right? Eating right? Getting enough exercise? Too much exercise? And then there was the granddaddy of all worries. Once she had the baby and didn't need Jake to be her hero anymore, how was she ever going to get used to living without him?

For that matter, how was she going to find the strength to give the baby to Beth and Stew when the time came?

She'd tried so desperately to keep her heart compartmentalized, Thinking of the baby, if she allowed herself to think of the baby at all, as Beth's and Stew's.

But the baby was greedy. She kept stealing pieces of Kate's heart for herself. And Jake seemed to be the baby's
willing accomplice. And Kate had no idea how to stop the two of them from absconding with her whole heart.

She looked up to realize Jake was studying her, waiting for her to finish her thought.

She opened her mouth, ready to share her fears, but then snapped it closed again. What would be the point? If she told him what she was feeling, he'd only want to help. To try to make things better. To rescue her, dang it.

She stood. “Never mind. I'm just tired. I think I'll go to bed.”

She waited to see if he'd respond. When he didn't, she turned and headed for her bedroom. She'd made it halfway down the hall when he spoke.

“You should sleep in my bed. You'll be more comfortable.”

His words clutched at her heart. He was just thinking of her comfort. Not her desirability.

Well, she didn't need or want someone to take care of her. She'd been self-reliant for far too long for that. If she needed anything it was for someone to want her…just as she was. But Jake wasn't that person.

No, he wanted her for who she wasn't—someone vulnerable and in need of protection.

“No, thanks, I'll be fine in my own room.”

She looked over her shoulder to see him propped against the kitchen doorway, his arm raised over his head, his face lowered, as if he didn't want to look at her. The stance stretched his T-shirt taut across his chest, emphasizing his sheer strength.

And yet, somehow she was left with the impression that her words had hurt him. Made
him
vulnerable.

“No, thanks,” she said again, then turned on her heel and escaped into her room.

O
n Monday morning Kate awakened to find a note from Jake propped on the kitchen table explaining that he'd been called into work during the night and hadn't wanted to wake her. In some ways the news was a relief. After their discussion the previous night, she was no longer sure where she stood with him or how to face him.

Something she never had to do since he didn't arrive home before midnight.

The following day was a repeat. Except he didn't leave a note.

By the third day of the same behavior, the fears and insecurities she'd been holding at bay flooded the common sense that told her he was just doing his job.

Even as doubts about their relationship raced through her head, she was annoyed with herself for giving them credence. This was exactly the kind of weak behavior
she despised. She was smarter than this. At least, she'd always thought she was.

How very disappointing to find out after all this time that she wasn't.

If Jake had been avoiding her, it was equally true that she'd been avoiding her sister. But she couldn't any longer.

Kate needed to talk to Beth.

So after work on Thursday, instead of driving to her own little bungalow near downtown, Kate headed out on Williams Drive to the community of multiacre lots and ranch-style houses where Beth and Stewart lived.

She let herself in the side door and found Beth in the kitchen, chopping vegetables to stir-fry. Something inside of her tightened at the familiar scene. Back in the days before the insemination, she'd been a frequent dinner guest at Beth's and Stew's.

When she heard Kate enter, Beth looked up from her task. Almost instantly, her face bloomed into a smile and she practically flew across the room to give Kate a hug. But all too soon, she pulled back from the hug to scowl. “You've been avoiding me.”

“I've been bus—”

“You're always busy.” Beth clucked disapprovingly. “But you've never gone this long without at least calling. If Stew hadn't been getting regular updates from Jake, I would have been frantic.”

“I've been—” She started to voice another defense, but then Beth's words sank in. “Regular updates from Jake? He's been…what? Telling on me?”

Beth chuckled. “He's been keeping us informed. A couple of weeks after the wedding, when I realized you were avoiding me, I had to resort to checking up on you through Stew and Jake.”

There wasn't even a hint of accusation in Beth's
voice. Nevertheless, guilt twinged in Kate's belly. “I'm sorry. Things have just been…”

“Complicated?” Beth wiped her hands on a dish-towel before returning to her chopping.

“Yeah, I guess.”

For a moment Kate studied her sister. As always Beth had a peaceful aura about her that was only magnified by her pregnancy. She wore a simple, high-waisted dress that emphasized her growing belly. The brown curls framing her face had been clipped back with a barrette, revealing her naturally rosy complexion. No doubt about it. Pregnancy agreed with Beth. Just as motherhood would.

By comparison, Kate felt bloated, blotchy and generally incompetent. She hated the stab of jealousy she felt. Just as she always did.

With a sigh, she slipped her arms from her suit jacket and draped it over the back of a kitchen chair. Shoving aside the negative emotions, she started to explain, “It's just—”

“You don't have to explain.” Beth rinsed a red pepper in the sink and handed it and a knife to Kate. “It's only natural you haven't wanted to see me. I certainly can't blame you for feeling resentful.”

“I don't feel resentful.” But she found herself focusing on mutilating the innocent red pepper rather than meeting her sister's gaze.

“Of course you do.” Beth stopped chopping long enough to rest her hand on Kate's. “After all you've gone through for me and Stew, you'd have to be a saint not to feel at least a little resentful.”

Kate looked up at Beth. She toyed with the abandoned stem of the pepper while studying Beth's expression. There was no judgment there. No annoyance or
frustration. Only acceptance. Which somehow only made Kate feel worse.

She shrugged. “I suppose on some level, I have been feeling a little resentful.”

To her chagrin, Beth chuckled. “Well, that's a step in the right direction.”

Since she'd been feeling so proud of her admission, Kate arched an eyebrow and asked, “Just a step?”

“Oh, come on, Kate. You've given up close to a year of your life for Stew and me. You're having a baby for us. Married a man who was a virtual stranger. And it turns out it was all unnecessary. Of course you're resentful. Maybe even downright angry.”

Beth set down her knife and sighed. “And to make matters worse, I handled things very badly.” Her voice held an unusual note of self-censure. “When we first found out we were pregnant, I was so happy for us, I let myself ignore what an awkward position I'd put you into.” Her hand drifted down to her belly. “I'd forgotten that our dream come true would pretty much be a nightmare for you.”

“Well, I don't know that I'd use the term nightmare,” Kate said wryly. “It certainly hasn't been all negative.”

She'd certainly had her share of positive experiences these past several months. The amazing feeling of having the baby move inside her. The excitement of the baby's sonogram. Living with Jake. Getting to know him and realizing he was so much more complex than she'd thought. Sleeping curled up next to him in bed. Feeling his hands and mouth bring her unthinkable pleasure. All things she never would have experienced if she hadn't become the surrogate mother for Beth and Stew.

In that light, how could she possibly resent Beth for
putting her in this position? And how could she think of her baby as unnecessary?

She loved this baby. She could never regret all she'd been going through to bring this baby into the world.

“There's been a lot of upheaval in my life,” she admitted. “But it hasn't all been bad. Not by far.”

“I'm glad.” Beth smiled. Not her normal, peaceful smile, but one filled with joy. “And what about work? Things haven't been too rough for you there?”

Kate's hand drifted to her own belly. The silk shell she wore untucked over her black maternity pants certainly didn't hide her bulging belly. With the jacket, things were a little more inconspicuous but not much. “A couple of people have noticed, but I haven't made an official announcement or anything.”

“And how have people taken it?”

“So far, everyone's been excited and supportive.”

“Even Judge Hatcher?”

“Hatcher's been so busy with his campaign he's barely noticed me at all. He's still circling the McCain case like a vulture. The case won't start for another week, so we'll see if he continues to behave.”

The funny thing was how unconcerned she was about the case. About work in general. Mere months ago, all of that seemed so important. So completely vital to her life. Now, work was…just work.

She took it seriously. Still did her job to the utmost of her ability. But it was no longer the focus of her life. Other things had taken its place. Her baby. And Jake.

Which brought her to the purpose of her visit. As quickly as she could, she explained to Beth what had happened between them. Beth listened in near silence.

When Kate was finally done, Beth summarized, “And now you think he's avoiding you.”

“I don't just think so. He's been working eighteen-hour days. Who does that?”

Beth shot her a wry look. “You, on occasion. I can think of several times you've worked days that long. And he did warn you.”

“I know. It's just…” Kate wiped her hands on a dish-towel and propped her hip against the counter. “I just can't help thinking I did something wrong. That I've messed up this entire situation and now he doesn't know how to get out of it.”

“I'm sure you have nothing to worry about,” Beth said. “Jake is a really—”

“I know. He's a really good guy.” Kate sighed. “You're right. He is. That's the problem. That means he's not going to want to do anything to hurt me. That's only going to make him feel more—” The word caught in her throat. “—obligated to stick around.”

She didn't want him to feel obligated to her. She wanted him to want her.

Just once in her life, she wanted someone to want her for her.

With a groan she propped her elbows on the counter and sank her head into her hands. “I just hate feeling so damn needy.”

Beth had the gall to chuckle.

Kate curled in her fingers to glare at Beth over her knuckles. “This is funny to you?”

Beth shrugged, then nodded. “Maybe just a little.” As if she sensed Kate's rising annoyance, she held out her hands in an “I'm innocent” gesture. “Not that I want you to be miserable and needy, it's just—” Beth paused, searching for a word “—reassuring to know you're not always as confident and together as you seem.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Kate, you're my sister. I couldn't love you more, so don't take this the wrong way. It's just that you've always seemed so very self-sufficient. Even as a kid, you never needed anyone.”

“That's not true.”

“Yes, it is. It's one of the things I've always admired about you, but…”

“But what?” she couldn't help asking.

“But it's a little intimidating, too. It's always made me feel a little… I don't know…” Beth gave a self-conscious laugh. “Weak, I guess. By comparison.”

Kate felt her heart tighten just a little bit. This time she was the one who reached out and put her hand on Beth's. “You're not weak. You're one of the most loving, generous people I know.”

Beth looked up. Her smile held just a hint of self-deprecation. “Thank you. But it's kind of nice having you here asking for advice. I've been waiting all my life to get to be your helpful big sister.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “My helpful big sister?”

“Well, sure. You've always been so independent, I've never had the chance before. I get to take care of everyone else I care about but you. I've missed that.”

“I…I don't know what to say. I'm sorry, I guess.”

Beth chuckled. “You don't have to
say
anything. Just keep it in mind for the future. Sometimes letting other people take care of you isn't a bad thing. It's not a sign of weakness. It's just a way of keeping the relationship balanced.”

By the time she left Beth's and Stew's she felt no better about the situation with Jake. But she felt as if her relationship with her sister had changed forever.

It had never occurred to her that her sister wanted to
take care of her. That her independence deprived people of anything.

She'd certainly never set out to be aloof. It was just sort of a natural defense. At the first couple of foster homes, she'd yearned for love and attention. It hadn't taken her long to realize she wasn't going to get it. Hugs, cuddles and special treats all went to the kids like Beth. The cute little moppets with big eyes and curly hair.

In fact, there had been several foster homes that wouldn't have taken her if the courts hadn't insisted she and Beth stay together.

She'd learned early on that the only person she could rely on was herself. That was what she'd been doing ever since. Her independence—her steadfast refusal to trust anyone else—had protected her, yes. But now she wondered what it had cost her.