Authors: Diana Palmer
Dani had woken with the first light touch of his fingers, and she found the expressions that flickered on his face fascinating. But that last reaction amused her, and she laughed softly.
His eyes darted to hers. “What did I do?” he asked softly.
“The baby moved,” she said simply.
“Moved?” He looked back down, frowning. Hesitantly, he reached down again. She took his fingers and placed them against the side of her belly. She pressed them close, and it happened again. And he laughed. Slowly. Softly. Delightedly.
“When they get bigger, they kick,” she told him. “The doctor says the more active they are, the healthier they are. He moves a lot.”
“I never knew….” He looked up from her belly to her rib cage. His hand moved up to the bunched top and he glanced up at her face with the question in his eyes. “I’ve never seen a pregnant woman this way.”
“I don’t mind if you look at me,” she whispered, fascinated by the way he was reacting to her. There was something in his face, a kind of tenderness. She wondered what had soured him on pregnancy, and why he hated the thought of a child.
He lifted the blouse to under her chin and his body stilled as his eyes sought the subtle changes in her breasts.
“You’re bigger,” he said quietly. “Darker…here.” His fingers brushed an enlarged areole, making her tense with remembered pleasure.
“Little changes,” she said, fighting for breath. “All that will increase as I get further along. It prepares me so that I can nurse him.”
He felt a wild charge of emotion. It showed when he looked into her eyes. “I didn’t think women did that anymore.”
She smiled. “I want to do everything. I—” She laughed. “I love it. Being pregnant, I mean. I’ve never had anyone to fuss over, you see,” she tried to explain. “Never had anyone of my own to worry about, to care about, to love. He’ll be my whole world. I’ll take care of him, and sit with him when he’s sick, and play games with him when he’s older. I’ll take him everywhere with me, I’ll—” She lowered her eyes at the expression on his face. “What you said, about child support. It’s not necessary,” she added proudly. “I make a comfortable living from the bookstore. I can take care of him. He’ll be my responsibility.”
He’d never felt so empty and alone in all his life. He stared at her belly, hearing the words and wanting all that tender caring for himself. But it wasn’t possible. She didn’t want him. She was telling him so.
He tugged the blouse back down. “You’ll be a good mother,” he said numbly.
“I’m sorry that you had to find it out this way,” she murmured. “I would have written you, but I didn’t even have your address.”
He drew in a slow breath and got to his feet. He went to the window, smoking another cigarette. He looked so alone. So lost.
“You…weren’t hurt?” she asked, averting her face so that he couldn’t see her eyes.
“A few scratches.” He stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette for a minute before his dark eyes went back out the window to the city traffic. He’d done nothing right since he got off the damned plane. He’d wanted to talk about reconciliation, but when he’d found her pregnant, he’d gone off the deep end. It was because of the memories, of course; they’d haunted him for so long. Perhaps he’d blown the whole incident out of proportion over the years.
He turned back to her, uneasy at the way she looked. That woman, Harriett, had mentioned how tired Dani was. Yes, she was tired. Run down. There had been a radiance in her when she’d come into the bookstore, but it was gone now. He’d taken it away with his cold attitude and stupid accusations. He’d hurt her. Again. And he hadn’t meant to.
“What I said, before,” he said hesitantly, glancing at her. His hand, holding the cigarette, moved aimlessly. “I know the baby’s mine.”
“Do you?” she asked with an empty smile as she sat up. “I might have had a legion of lovers since you left.”
“I came back to see if we might salvage the marriage,” he said after a minute, hoping for some reaction in her face, but there was nothing.
She looked up at him, schooling her features to remain calm. “And now?”
He shifted restlessly, pacing near the window, his blond head bowed, one hand in his pocket. “Now I don’t know.”
She swung her feet to the floor. “I haven’t changed my mind, even if you’ve started to change yours,” she said before he could speak. She looked at him with quiet gray eyes. “It’s all I can do to manage carrying the baby and running my business so that I can support him. I can’t have any additional pressure right now. I hope you understand.”
“You keep referring to it as a ‘he,’” he said curtly.
“He is a he,” she told him. “They ran some tests.”
He felt odd. A son. A little boy who might look like him. He stared at her as if he’d never seen a woman before, studying every line and curve of her body.
“Don’t look so worried, Eric, I don’t expect anything from you,” she mused, getting slowly to her feet. “Now, if you’ve said all you came to say, I’ve got to work to do. I’ll give you the name of my attorney….”
“No!” The word came out without conscious volition. They couldn’t divorce. Hell, he didn’t even want to think about it! She had his child, and he…wanted it!
She clenched her fingers together and glared at him. “I won’t live with you,” she said stubbornly.
His face hardened. “You will.”
“Make me.”
He stared at her. Mutinous bow mouth, stormy gray eyes, flushed face. Pregnant. He started to laugh helplessly, a deep, rich sound like velvet.
“I like you,” he said absently. “I honestly like you. No deceit, no tricks, no lines, no backing away from trouble. You’re a hell of a woman.”
She shifted from one foot to the other. No, he wasn’t going to get around her that way. “Remember me?” she asked coldly. “Miss Frump?”
He put out the cigarette, still smiling faintly, and moved toward her with a gleam in his eyes that made her back away.
“Sexy frump,” he murmured dryly. “Very pregnant, very desirable. And I don’t want a divorce. I want you.”
“I’m not for sale,” she told him, moving backward until the wall stopped her. “Go away. Go blow up something.”
“I don’t blow up things, actually,” he murmured, pinning her to the wall with a strong arm on either side of her. “I’m more into logistics and strategy.”
“You’ll get killed, anyway,” she said.
He shrugged. “I could get hit by a car downstairs.”
“Not quite as easily,” she argued.
“I want you,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I know,” she replied softly. “But wanting isn’t enough. You’ve already said you’d never fall in love again, so all you’re offering me is your body, between wars. It’s a gorgeous body, and in bed you’re all any woman could ever want. But you’re asking me to live with death, day in and day out, and I can’t.”
He drew in a breath and started to speak, but before he could she took one of his hands and pressed it slowly against her belly.
“I have your son under my heart,” she whispered, pressing his palm flat against her. “I can’t live with the fear of losing both of you.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Eric, I could miscarry,” she said, her voice soft with a fear he was just beginning to sense.
“Is it likely?” he asked.
“I’m healthy. So is the baby. But there are no guarantees,” she said, lowering her eyes to his chest.
“It…frightens you, to think of losing him?” he asked hesitantly.
She looked up wide-eyed. “Of course it does!”
He was remembering another woman, another time, and he cursed himself for that lapse. Dani wanted the baby. It was written all over her.
“I can’t worry about him and you as well,” she said curtly. “And he deserves a chance. You’re old enough to make your own mistakes, but I’m responsible for him now.”
He stared down at her for a long time. Then he turned away with a sigh and lit still another cigarette.
“I’ve done it for so many years,” he said after a minute, staring at the floor. “It’s all I know.”
“I’m not asking you to change,” she reminded him.
He looked up. “We’re married.”
“We can get divorced.”
“I don’t want a damned divorce!” he burst out, his eyes black with anger.
She stood there staring at him helplessly, searching for the right words.
He sighed angrily. “I knew you’d be trouble the minute I saw you,” he growled. “A frumpy little bookseller with the body and soul of an angel. And you’re in my blood like poison. I’d have to die to get you out of my system!”
She lifted her shoulders and smiled ruefully. “Well, look at it this way, you’ll never have to fight off other men.”
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Would you care to bet? The way you look right now…”
“I look pregnant,” she said. “In two or three more months I’ll look like a blimp.”
“Not to me you won’t.”
He averted his eyes to his shoes. “Well, I’ll go home and pack. And there are some people I want to see.”
“Pack?”
He looked up. “I’m going to live with you,” he said. “If you don’t like it, that’s tough. I am not,” he continued, gathering steam, “going to have you working yourself to death and running up and down these damned stairs. Harriett’s right. You need looking after. So I’m going to look after you. Until the baby comes, at least,” he added. “After that we’ll make whatever decisions have to be made.”
She wanted to argue. But he looked very formidable. “But, your…your work….”
“To hell with my work,” he bit off. He looked frankly dangerous. “I’ve got enough in foreign banks to buy this damned building you live in. I work because I like it, not because I need money.”
“But…”
“Shh. Talking is bad for the baby.” He crushed out his cigarette. “I’ll get back Saturday.”
Things were happening too fast. She was shell-shocked. She watched him walk toward her.
“Little gray-eyed witch,” he whispered. He pulled her gently against him and bent to tease her mouth with his. “Open it,” he murmured. “I haven’t kissed you in months.”
“I’ll bet you’ve kissed other women,” she said mutinously.
He lifted his head. “Nope.” He drew his knuckles over her flushed cheek. “I haven’t even looked at one. And yes, there are always women in the circles I move in. Beautiful women, with no principles and eyes like dollar signs. And all I could think of was how it felt with you, that morning when we made such exquisite love on my bed and created this little boy.”
Tears burst into her eyes, startling him. “You know?” she breathed.
“Of course. Didn’t you?” he asked, smiling at her.
“You’re more experienced than I am,” she hedged.
“Not in that kind of lovemaking,” he murmured ruefully. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d never experienced it before.”
“Do you mind very much, about the baby?” she asked, because she had to know.
He smoothed away her frown with a lean forefinger. “I have to get used to the idea, that’s all. I’ve been a free spirit for a very long time. I’ve had no one.”
“Yes, I know.” She studied his shirt buttons. “Eric, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to come here….”
He stopped the sacrificing little speech with his mouth, opening hers to a delicate, gently probing kiss that had her going stiff with desire all too soon.
His fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of her neck and eased her head back against the hard muscle of his upper arm. His other hand made slow, torturous forays against her collarbone, her shoulder, the side of her breast.
“Sadist,” she whispered shakily as the magic worked on her.
He bit her lower lip gently. “Do you want to make love?”
Her eyes opened, looking straight into his face. “No.”
He smiled, and his fingers brushed knowingly over her nipples. She flinched with sudden pleasure, and he laughed gently.
“Yes, you do,” he murmured dryly.
“My mind doesn’t want to,” she amended, trying to save herself from the sensual prison he was trying to trap her in.
He kissed her eyes closed, and his hands slid to her stomach, cupping its firm warmth. “It won’t make you miscarry,” he whispered. “Not if I’m gentle enough. And I will be.”
She trembled at the soft tone, and he smiled and pulled her into his arms, holding her.
“It isn’t that,” she whispered into his shoulder, eyes open and worried as they stared at the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t make me care for you. It will make it all that much harder to let go. Just…just let me pretend that it’s Mexico, and we’re having a holiday. All right?”
He stood very still, smoothing her hair. “Dani…”
“Please!”
He sighed heavily and let her go. “All right. A holiday.” His eyes dropped to her belly and he chuckled. “For the three of us.”
“And—and no sex,” she added, her eyes dark and frightened.
He searched them, seeing her fear of losing him. It bothered him, but he didn’t quite know how to handle it. “Are you sure?” he asked. “We could enjoy each other.”
“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to.”
She was imposing impossible limits on his self-control, but he couldn’t turn his back on his responsibility to her. He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Okay,” he said carelessly. “No sex.”
She breathed more easily. She had expected him to argue. He brushed a kiss against her nose.
“Of course,” he added, “you can always seduce me if you like.”
“Thank you,” she replied with a reluctant smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He winked at her. “See you Saturday. Rest for another hour. I’ll stop by your store and tell the mother hen where you are. And watch those damned stairs,” he added firmly.
“Yes, your worship.” She curtsied.
He laughed shortly as he went out the door, closing it quietly behind him. Dani stared at it for a long time before she went back to lie down. She wondered what she was letting herself in for. He wasn’t going to be able to settle down, she was sure of it. It would mean only more heartache. But apparently he felt responsible and he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight for five months. She grimaced at the thought of having to cope with Dutch and Harriett together. It was going to be a rough pregnancy.
Chapter Eight