Unnatural Relations (Lust and Lies Series, Book 1) (9 page)

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. You did the sympathy and consoling parts very well. But I think you're going to look kind of silly in my pants. Most of them are nothing more than little scraps of lace and satin."

It took him a second to get her joke, but when he did, he rewarded her with a tight hug. "God, I wish I'd met you before Howard." He released her, stood up and straightened the creases down the front of his jeans. "Okay, since I can't get into your pants, how about if we go see a movie or something?"

She pretended not to notice the bulge his actions failed to hide. "I'd like that very much." Just before they left, she did the one thing she'd been putting off for days. She removed the diamond ring from her finger and put it in her dresser drawer with Decker's envelope.

They went to a mindless comedy that featured men being idiots and followed it up with an Italian dinner, during which Russ did his best to keep a smile on Barbara's face. Unfortunately, one of his methods was to encourage her to drink more Chianti than she normally would. At first it gave her a good case of the giggles, but then it backfired. Depression set in before they left the restaurant, and she cried most of the way home. Then the minute they entered her apartment, she got horribly sick.

Claiming full responsibility for her condition, Russ stayed and took care of her most of the night, helping her in and out of the bathroom, placing cold compresses on her head and assuring her that the walls weren't really moving. At some point she did fall asleep, only to awaken with a wretched headache and an excess of embarrassment.

As she dragged herself out of bed, she noted that Russ was asleep on the trundle bed normally hidden beneath hers. A sheet covered the lower part of his body, but his chest was bare. Glancing down at herself, she saw a cotton nightshirt with nothing underneath and was disturbed that she had no memory of changing her clothes.

She scolded herself for jumping to the worst conclusion possible after Russ had been so nice to her. Nothing sexual had happened. She would have remembered that, even if she couldn't explain how she got her nightshirt on.

She desperately needed aspirin and coffee and though she tried to be quiet, she awakened Russ.

He sat up and stretched. "Hey, babe, how do you feel?"

"Like I fell off a building onto my head. What would you like first, the embarrassed apology or the vow of undying gratitude?"

"I'll settle for a cup of whatever you're having, but make it to go, okay? I promised Pop I'd have his truck back last night. I'm not sure how much help I'll be today, but I have to make an appearance."

"Now I feel even worse. At least promise that if you ever need somebody to keep you from drowning in a toilet bowl, you'll call me."

"I promise," he said, crossing his heart.

She turned her back as he stood up, but she was able to confirm that he had slept in his briefs.

Before he headed out, he gave her a brotherly hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Try to get some sleep today. You look even worse now than you did when I got here."

She did make an effort to rest, but she awoke with the dry heaves the next morning as well. She couldn't remember ever having a two-day hangover, but chalked it up to the previous week's lack of food and sleep.

Or perhaps it was something else. Something that would affect her a lot longer than a bad hangover.

With her mind totally occupied with Howard's vanishing act, she hadn't given any thought to her menstrual cycle. Her period was eleven days late, and it was never, ever late. But everyone knows stress causes all sorts of physical problems and she had
definitely
been under a tremendous amount of stress lately.

It was probably too soon to worry about it. Once she let the thought in, however, it wouldn't go away. What would she do if she was pregnant? An abortion? Out of the question. Regardless of how she felt about the father, she believed abortion was a form of murder. She also couldn't imagine giving away a child she'd created.

So she would have the baby and keep it. Could she do that on her own? She rejected the idea of going home to her parents. Not only were they too old for her to dump her problems in their lap, it was a matter of pride. When she'd left home, she was so sure of herself, her talent, her success. It was bad enough to admit she'd failed, but to crawl home, broke and pregnant...

No!
She would do this on her own or she would die trying. Lots of women stay active throughout their pregnancy and go right back to work after they've delivered. She was young and healthy. She could do it if she had to.

But until she was certain, she decided to pray very hard that it wouldn't be necessary.

Her worry was temporarily put on hold shortly after she got home that night, when Russ reappeared with a large suitcase in his hand and a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm not drowning in a toilet bowl, but I could use a favor if you still feel you owe me one."

She opened the door wider and stood aside for him to enter, but he continued to stand in the hallway looking embarrassed. "What's the matter?"

"I got kicked off the estate. I was kind of hoping you'd let me camp out here for a few days... just until I figure out what I'm going to do."

The idea of him staying in the one-room apartment for even a few days gave her a very uncomfortable feeling, but she couldn't think of a credible excuse to turn him down under the circumstances. "Of course," she replied with a forced smile. "Come on in."

Chapter 4

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Russ set his suitcase down and let out a frustrated groan. "I doubt if it would help. But I could sure use a hug if you've got one to spare."

How could she refuse to return the same comfort he'd given her when she had needed it so badly? As he stepped into her open arms, she could actually feel the tension in his body. He slowly relaxed against her but all too quickly, she sensed a change in the way his hands were moving over her back. She was about to ease away when he made a very unmanly confession.

"I'm scared, babe. I have no idea what I'm going to do." He released her and turned away.

Her concern that he was looking for something more than sympathy from her was overridden by her natural inclination to answer a cry for help. She touched his arm to get him to face her again. "Why don't I make us some tea while you tell me what happened? It may not help, but it can't hurt."

Rather than sitting down, he stayed by her side as she filled the kettle with water and got out two cups and tea bags. She found it a bit unnerving that he was barely giving her enough space to move, but she didn't want to say anything that might make him feel worse than he already did.

"I've lived on the estate my whole life," he said, more to himself than her. "Everyone always figured I'd take over Pop's position one of these days."

"Maybe they'll ask you to come back."

Russ snorted. "Not after everything I said to Mr. Hamilton." In a frighteningly swift mood change, he slammed his fist down on the counter so hard the cups rattled. "Damn, but that son-of-a-bitch had it coming. He never cared how many people he stepped on to get what he wanted. You wouldn't believe how many times I almost told him off, but I always managed to keep my mouth shut. But breaking up you and Howard the way he did—I thought that was the lowest. Then I heard him talking filthy about you with that creep lawyer of his, and, well, I guess I went a little nuts."

Barbara felt the queasiness in her stomach again. "Oh, Russ, please don't tell me you lost your job and your home because of me."

He ran his hand over her hair and grinned. "Don't worry about it, babe. With my temper, it was bound to happen sooner or later."

The teakettle whistled as she was about to question him further. When he reached around her to take it off the burner and their hands bumped, she said, "Why don't you go sit down and I'll bring you a cup?"

"That's okay. I'd rather help. I don't want you treating me like a guest while I'm here."

Despite her gentle hint, he remained close to her until the tea was brewed. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about him seemed different. Or was it the change in her own circumstances that made the difference? When he sat down on the bed, she purposely chose the chair farthest from him to give herself some breathing room. He had only been staying with her for fifteen minutes, but she was already feeling crowded. Though she didn't want to be rude, she suddenly needed to know exactly how long he planned to stay. "So, what are your options?"

He shrugged and made a face. "Gardening is the only work I've ever done, and I sure can't expect to get a recommendation from Mr. Hamilton to go work for one of his rich friends." He pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his shirt pocket, then remembered his manners. "Do you mind?"

She remembered how long the smoke had lingered after his last visit and decided honesty would be better than choking to death. "Actually, I do," she said in an apologetic tone. "It's just that this is such a small apartment—"

"Hey, that's cool," he said, tucking the cigarette away. "I should cut down anyway."

"Good idea. Now to decide what you could do for work." Recalling the beautiful floral arrangements he had effortlessly put together for the mansion, she suggested, "You could open a flower shop."

A flash of interest showed in his eyes before he killed it. "I've only got two thousand dollars. It would take a lot more than that just to get started. Anyway, I don't know anything about running a business."

"Okay. But you could learn. How about if you went to work for a florist to learn the ropes, and in the meantime you'd keep saving up for your own shop?"

The interest came alive again. "Maybe I could even have a little street vendor business on the side... when the weather's good."

"Or you could move to a place with a warmer climate and do the street vendor thing year-round." She was thinking of Los Angeles or Miami, somewhere far from New York.

He shook his head. "Nah. I wouldn't want to move that far from Pop. He's getting up there, you know. But I think you've got me on the right track."

"Good," she said, and drank the last of her tea. "Now, since you don't want to be treated like a guest, I won't bother being polite. I'm beat, and you're sitting on my bed."

As he had the other night, he pulled the lower trundle mattress out, but didn't raise it to be level with hers. She would have preferred to disconnect the framework completely and put some space between them, but there was no place for it to be moved without rearranging the entire room. As exhausted as she'd been lately, the effort didn't seem worth it for just a few nights.

She expected to have trouble falling asleep with him so close. The moment her head touched the pillow, however, she was out and remained in a deep, dreamless sleep until her stomach performed its new wake-up ritual.

The worst of it was over, and she was splashing her face with cool water when Russ knocked on the bathroom door.

"Babe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "I'll be out in a few minutes." Fighting her quivering muscles, she quickly brushed the foul taste out of her mouth and took a hot shower to wash away the cold sweat. By the time she opened the bathroom door, she was more or less back to normal, but Russ stepped in front of her so unexpectedly, she nearly dropped to her knees again.

His hands caught and supported her as she headed back to the bed. "You're not fine," he scolded. "What's the matter?"

"You just frightened me, that's all." Her words were contradicted by the way her body gave in to the need to lie down.

"Uh-uh. You can't lie to Uncle Russ. In case you've forgotten, I'm very familiar with the sound of you heaving up your guts in the toilet. But that wasn't from drinking too much Chianti, was it?"

She closed her eyes. If she could just rest for a few minutes, she might make it through another day.

"Barbara.
Answer me."

"It's probably the flu," she murmured. "There's a lot of it going around."

"Do you want me to call the restaurant for you and tell them you won't be in?"

The need to return to sleep was rapidly seducing her. "No, I'll be fine in an hour."