Surrogate and Wife (9 page)

B
y the time Kate arrived home Friday evening, Jake had already left for work and wouldn't return until after midnight. Normally he worked the day shift four days a week, but tonight he was covering for a buddy on vacation.

She wandered restlessly through the house, amazed that she'd become accustomed to his presence. Even though they rarely spent time together, she'd gotten used to having him around.

What would it be like once this was all over with and he left for good? She'd have neither him nor the baby to keep her company. The thought made her inexplicably sad.

No matter how many times she reminded herself that neither Jake nor the baby were hers to keep, she couldn't help wishing…
Wishing what
? the more logical part of her mind scoffed.

Keeping the baby was out of the question, no matter what she secretly yearned for. As for keeping Jake, what
would be the point? She'd been independent her entire adult life. She relied on no one but herself for her happiness, and that was the way she wanted it. It was the only way to ensure she'd never be let down, never be hurt. She'd had more than enough of that during her childhood.

Still, she couldn't help wondering what it would be like if they were a different sort of newlywed couple.

Undoubtedly, she'd wait up for him. Plan some romantic encounter for when he got home after work. Pull out the lingerie she'd bought before the wedding and spend the evening relaxing in a tub scented with exotic oils. Or maybe she'd retire early after planning a romantic breakfast in bed for him the next morning.

Kate felt a slight throbbing deep in her gut in response to the images her mind had conjured. She would do none of those things, and the evening stretched endlessly before her.

Around eight, she opened the fridge, planning to make herself a grilled cheese sandwich, only to find a casserole dish with a note from Jake taped to the lid.

She smiled. Like this morning, she couldn't bring herself to reject his peace offering. Besides, what he'd prepared was much better for the baby than the grilled cheese she would have made. So she nuked the lasagna in the microwave and ate it at the kitchen table with a glass of milk while reviewing papers. By the time her plate was clean and the last of her work seen to, fatigue settled over her like a heavy blanket.

She tried to nap on the sofa, but couldn't get comfortable. Her own bed was worse, inexplicably both
lumpy and hard. Then she remembered what Jake had said about his mattress.

It helped him sleep like the dead.

She grabbed the pillows from her bed and marched down the hall to his room.

She stood in the doorway for a long moment just staring at his bed. She hadn't been in this room since he moved in, and somehow the changes surprised her.

His king-size bed was huge. He hadn't made the bed that morning, so the thick navy comforter remained pulled back, revealing cream-colored sheets beneath. A heavy dresser lined one wall and a chair sat in a corner, both draped in discarded clothes. The room looked…comfortably messy. Lived in. This was most definitely
his
space. And
she
was invading it.

She'd never dream of doing something like this, if she didn't need some decent sleep so desperately.

Just a few hours of decent sleep and she'd sneak back to her own bed.

Jake wouldn't be home for hours. He'd never know. After all, with her recent sleep patterns, she'd be awake long before he got home, to sneak back to her own bed.

She slid between his sheets. They were soft, worn from years of use, and they felt good against the skin of her arms and legs, left bare by the tap pants and camisole she wore—the last of her prepregnancy pajamas that still fit.

After propping her own pillows against her back, she curled into a ball on her left side and burrowed her face into his pillow. With every breath, she inhaled the scent of him, crisp and clean, with a slight hint of masculine muskiness.

And for the first time in weeks—maybe months—she relaxed into sleep.

 

When Jake pulled into the driveway a little past midnight, not a single light shone through the windows.

Inside, the house was quiet and Kate's bedroom door was closed. He could only hope she was finally getting some sleep.

Not wanting to wake her, he crept into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. To his delight, he saw that Kate had eaten the lasagna he made for her dinner. But not the croissant. Well, at least he was making some progress.

He took a quick shower to rinse off the grime from sifting through the remains of the fire, and planned to read a little of his Dean Koontz book in bed before calling it a night.

Only, when he walked into his bedroom, a bath towel wrapped around his waist, he found a Kate-size lump in the center of his bed and realized reading wasn't going to be an option.

“Looks like someone's been sleeping in my bed,” he murmured.

He crept closer, to get a better look. She was curled into a ball on her side, her fist tucked under her chin, like an infant. Her inky hair spilled across his pillow. Her bare shoulder and the thin strap of something silky and decadent, were visible above the sheets.

His resolve to keep his distance seemed suddenly doomed.

She was his wife.

She was carrying his baby.

And she was asleep in his bed.

The same bed he'd lain awake in countless nights thinking about her. Trying to piece together the puzzle of Kate. And—if he was honest with himself—wanting her.

And all she wanted was a good night's sleep.

He couldn't give her even half the things he wanted to, but he could give her that, at least.

As quietly as he could, he pulled a pair of boxers and sweat shorts from the dresser drawer. With his back to her, he yanked them on. He was creeping to the door when she made a cute little sniffling noise in her sleep, followed by a soft moan. He spun to look at her, waiting to see if she'd woken.

She wasn't fully awake, but as soon as she started to roll onto her back, her eyes flew open. When she spotted him standing at the foot of the bed, she sat bolt upright, clutching the sheet to her chest.

“I…I…”

He held his hands palms out to calm her. “It's okay.”

“No, it's not.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, but she must have still been groggy and light-headed, because she never made it to standing. “I didn't… I'm so embarrassed.” She propped her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. “I thought you wouldn't be home for hours.”

She looked so adorably flustered, he couldn't resist comforting her. So against his better judgment, he rounded the bed to sit by her side.

“Hey, it's okay.”

She peered at him through the cracks in her fingers. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock beside his bed, which apparently she hadn't seen. “A little after one.”

She curled her fingers in so her chin was propped in her palms. “I slept for four hours. How is it possible I'm still tired?”

Her hair hung mussed about her face, with one heavy lock draped in front of her eyes. Almost of their own vo
lition, his fingers rose to brush aside that lock of hair. “It's been how many days since you had a decent night's sleep?”

She scrubbed a hand across her face and sat up straighter. “Quite a few. Weeks, maybe.” She stood, swaying slightly on her feet. “I guess I'll head back to my own bed.”

For some reason he just couldn't pin down, he didn't want to let her do that. He grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

Her skin was warm and he could have sworn he felt her pulse leap under his fingers. You should stay here,” he said.

Her eyes widened and she pulled her wrist from his hand. Her gaze darted to his bare chest, and he would have sworn he saw a flash of awareness in her eyes.

Tempting as hell, but not exactly what he'd had in mind.

He leaped to his feet before he said or did something really stupid. “Look, obviously you slept better in here than you have in your own bed. It only makes sense for you to sleep the rest of the night in here. It's just for tonight. You'll feel better in the morning.”

He took her hand again and tugged her gently toward the bed. To his surprise she let him. The second she sat down on the bed, she seemed to relax.

“Where will you sleep?”

“I'll figure something out,” he reassured her as he nudged her shoulder back.

She lay down, curling onto her side so that her back faced him.

“I won't be able to sleep,” she muttered, her eyes already closed, the lines of fatigue on her face easing.

“Just give it a few minutes.” He had the strongest urge to brush her hair back from her face, but leaned over her and murmured. “If you don't fall back asleep, you can get up and I'll take you dancing.”

She chuckled, then sighed as she began to nod off. For a long moment he stood there, watching her. There was something so peaceful about watching someone sleep. So intimate. In that moment, he was seeing a side of her few people ever saw.

With a sigh of his own, he crept to the chair in the corner to retrieve one of the shirts draped across its back. He was reaching for the novel on his bedside table, when she started to roll over onto her back and once again jerked awake.

She blinked sleepily. “See, I told you I wouldn't fall asleep.”

He sat down on the side of the bed and gave in to the urge to run his hand down her hair. “You were asleep. You just woke up when you nearly rolled over.”

She groaned and buried her face against the pillow. “It's silly that I'm so worried about sleeping wrong, isn't it?”

“No.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “How long was I asleep this time?”

“Not long enough.”

Then inspiration hit. He climbed into bed beside her and pulled her back against his chest so his body cradled hers.

“Jake!” she protested, trying to pull away from him.

“Shhh…it's okay,” he murmured. “I'm just trying to help. You can't sleep because you're afraid of rolling over, right? Well, if I'm here, you won't roll over.”

“But—”

“If you know you can't roll over, you'll be able to sleep.”

She let out a puff of air. “Theoretically. But—”

“You can trust me.” He chuckled to ease her fears,
even though there was nothing funny about having her body pressed against his. “I promise I won't take advantage of you.”

“That's not what I'm worried about. No one would want to take advantage of a woman who's almost five months pregnant.” She twisted to look at him over her shoulder. “But this is exactly the kind of intimacy we agreed it best we didn't share.”

“I won't tell if you don't.”

Again he smoothed her hair down with his palm and then, because he didn't know what to do with his hand, he rested it on her shoulder. She began to relax against him incrementally.

Just when he thought she'd fallen asleep, she said, “I'm just worried about doing everything right.”

“I know you are.” She tried so hard to make all the right choices for the baby. How could he help but admire that?

“I want…the baby…to be healthy and strong.” She sounded as if she were struggling to stay awake. “I don't want…to disappoint Beth and Stew…. Or you.”

He sucked in a breath, waiting to see if she'd say anything to explain that cryptic comment. But apparently she'd fallen asleep because she said nothing else.

Staring down at her, he couldn't help but be a little amazed. Until this moment he'd had no idea she was afraid of doing everything right. But wasn't that just like her? To keep her fears and concerns to herself?

He urged his body to relax, but found it impossible to do so. With her lavender-scented hair tickling his nose, her lush fertile body resting against his, and her warm round bottom nestled against his groin, it was all he could do to continue breathing regularly.

It was going to be a long night.

 

Kate woke feeling rested for the first time in weeks. Not just rested…secure. Safe. Completely at peace.

Slowly she became aware of her surroundings.

And of Jake nestled against her back.

The events of the previous night came rushing back. The embarrassment of being found sleeping in his bed, which just barely exceeded her embarrassment at being talked into staying there.

Oh, boy. This had not gone as planned.

The worst part was, she didn't immediately leap from the bed and preserve whatever dignity she had left. Lying next to Jake just felt too dang good.

With his chest cradling her back, his hand resting on her belly and the warm masculine scent of him surrounding her, whatever willpower she had possessed deserted her completely.

His breath, slow and even across her ear, sent tremors of pleasure radiating through her body and she just couldn't resist nestling deeper under the covers, closer to him.

Only then did she realize that the lean muscles of his chest and arms weren't the only parts of his body that were hard and unyielding. She felt a jolt of pure anticipation.

How long had it been since she'd woken up in a man's bed? Suddenly, it seemed like years. Geesh, maybe it was years. Long enough that she'd forgotten the intimacy that came from sleeping with another person.

Saturday-morning sex had always been her favorite. Slow and lazy. Relaxed almost. With no rush, no constraints on time. Just the steady building of passion and the ecstasy of release.

Before she could give in to temptation, she started
to pull away, but stilled when Jake's arm tightened over her belly.

“Don't go,” he murmured against her ear.