He called up to her, “Wait. You can’t use the dryer without electricity.”
“Do I feel silly,” she said, carefully picking her way back downstairs. “I found another hanger on your washer, though,” she said, and Wyatt saw that she’d clipped her bra and panties to it. “Uh, I’ll hang this with the rest of my things,” she added lamely.
Wyatt still gripped the blanket. He crossed to where she lingered on the first step and wrapped it around her shoulders. Taking the hanger, he hooked it on the ban-nister.
“They’ll dry faster near the fire. Come. I pulled the rocker close to the hearth for you.” He led her to the chair.
“You have a very nice home,” she said, to make small talk as she tucked her feet under her and arranged the blanket over her bare legs.
“It’s too big for me. I thought about selling.” Wyatt sat on the end of the sofa nearest Casey’s chair. He propped his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees. “But the market went to hell.”
“Compared to this, my house is a cracker box. I considered selling, too, but a Realtor told me the same thing—I’d never get my money back. Funny, my first argument with Dane was about buying it in the first place. He wanted to keep renting the apartment. But his folks gave us money as a wedding present that they specifically said was for a down payment. To me, owning a home spelled permanence. As it happens, Dane took out an equity line of credit, so even buying a home doesn’t guarantee security.” Casey stared into the dancing flames, and her voice trailed off slowly.
“You’ve got that right. With us, I was the one who argued to buy a house. All Angela wanted was to open a studio.”
“You were always both photographers?”
“Yes. We met in college.”
“Love at first sight, huh?”
Wyatt smiled crookedly, thinking back as the fire sizzled and snapped. “My first impression of Angela was that she’d come from privilege. Her take-charge attitude, I suppose. She led a project we were assigned. In reality, Angela grew up in a group home, and had a hardscrabble life. I was one of few people she ever let close enough to know that. The day we got married I promised I’d always be there for her—for the scared, not-so-confident person she was at her core. But…” Wyatt hung his head. “When push came to shove I wasn’t around when she needed me most. For her or our baby.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Casey said. Her heart suddenly felt squeezed tight. “You should never have had to deal with me lying to you, too. I just didn’t know what else to do. My second day on the job I met Brenda. She guessed that I was pregnant and felt bad for me. After she explained why you’d closed the studio, I was terrified to say anything, to be honest. I thought about it, and came to the conclusion it’d be better if I waited awhile. Brenda offered me her old maternity clothes and she, Gracie and Jana altered them so you wouldn’t see the truth. I shouldn’t have done that, but I did. Please don’t blame your friends. They were just glad to see you get back to work. All I can do is apologize again, Wyatt. I truly hated lying to you.”
“Did you think I’d be a total hard-ass, or what?”
“No. I thought you were a man of principle, who still hurt after losing your wife and child. The night of the Granvilles’ party, I wanted to confess everything. Then I saw how shocked and angry you were at finding out I’d let you think I was married when I was already divorced.” Casey rubbed her temples in frustration as she completed her sentence.
“I still find it unforgivable that any man could leave his wife in such dire straits. Especially if he knew she was carrying his baby.”
“Dane didn’t like being tied down.”
“What did he expect you to do?”
She shrugged, and idly picked at the fringe on the blanket. “He didn’t say. He barely even said goodbye. I learned the day after he took off that he’d sold the microbrewery without telling me, too.” She ruffled her drying hair. “My ex-husband is a poster child for the me-first generation. If he gave any thought to me at all, he probably assumed I’d go back to Dallas—where we met when I photographed his sister’s wedding. I suppose it’s my fault for insisting on marriage when he wanted me to move down here and just live with him. Can we not talk about Dane anymore?” she said with a toss of her curls.
“As long as I can reiterate that I think he’s slime, sure, let’s change the subject. Tell me about your childhood. You’ve mentioned your foster parents more than once. I gather you weren’t always in the foster care system.”
Casey shifted in the rocker. “No. Until I was thirteen it was just me and my mom. She had a bad heart and couldn’t work. We lived on welfare, but her medicine alone was so expensive we rarely had enough to buy food. I will provide better for my baby,” she said fiercely, her voice brittle. “I have to.”
Wyatt doubted she was aware that the blanket had slipped below her waist. Or that she had begun to rub both hands over the slight mound that now was quite visible under her shirt. He was more affected than he imagined he’d be by her gutsy determination to have and raise a baby by herself.
“I wanted a big family,” he murmured, leaving the couch and kneeling at her side. It seemed natural to curl his large hand over her smaller, restless one. “At least four boys and girls. It’s why we bought a five-bedroom house with a huge backyard, even though it was just the two of us.”
Casey stopped moving her hand. “I keep thinking of the baby as a girl, but I really don’t care which I have. I’ll be happy with either.” Her mouth suddenly rounded in surprise. “I just felt a kick.”
Wyatt jerked away, then stared at where his hand had been.
“Would…you like to feel?” she asked hesitantly.
His eyes darkened, but he let her guide his fingers to her stomach. “There, I felt it,” he said. He gazed up at her in awe. “Uh, when does the kicking start? Angela wasn’t that far into her pregnancy. But you hardly…show.” Wyatt’s ears turned red.
“I know. The nurses at the clinic joke that the kid’s hanging on to my backbone. Brenda, Gracie and Jana say it’s remarkable that I don’t look like I swallowed a basketball, given how short I am. Apparently they all did. But how lucky is it not to have a waistline anymore? I’m beginning to feel like a blimp.”
“You fooled me,” he said, their eyes locking.
Casey touched his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll say it as many times as you’d like.”
“No. I didn’t mean fool me as in misled me. I mean, I thought you were stylish, and…well, I liked what I saw. No one would ever take you for a blimp.” Wyatt ran his hands up and down her arms. “I hate when you look sad, like now. I’ve noticed it at the studio sometimes. I want to make things better. What can I do?”
“Nothing. Maybe this weather has made me depressed. Or the car. What if it can’t be fixed, Wyatt? I’ll feel…cut adrift. Especially since I quit working for you.”
“Quit? You did say that, but…” Springing up, Wyatt drew Casey to the sofa with him and settled her on his lap. “We need to talk about your schedule. You can’t dash all over the city, taking home appointments, or go running off to evening weddings. I’ll take on more,” he said earnestly. “Or else I’ll drive you to events and we’ll team up—like tonight. Until that gets to be too much.”
“Wyatt, are you saying you still want me to work for you? I quit because I couldn’t bear to have you fire me, even if I deserved it.”
“You’re not fired, and I won’t let you quit. I need you, Casey.” His voice shook with fervency and something more.
Overcome by joy, Casey forgot to be cautious. She pressed a hand to each side of his face and planted a kiss right on his lips. She’d meant it to be the kind of kiss they’d look back on and maybe laugh about. She hadn’t reckoned on Wyatt threading his fingers into her hair and increasing the urgency until the air around them sparkled.
After being lonely for so long, Casey fell right under his spell Caught up in the moment, she trailed her fingers ov
er Wyatt’s cheeks, then down his neck, until finally she flattened her hands on his chest, where she reveled in the strong beating of his heart. Even if she’d tried, she probably couldn’t have controlled the little sounds of pleasure that left her lips.
WYATT’S MIND WENT BLANK the minute Casey’s soft lips touched his. He’d watched those lips at the office as she talked animatedly on the phone to clients. Had watched her enjoy a sandwich. Seen her unconsciously nibble on the end of her pen when she concentrated.
He would shift uncomfortably, or get up and leave the studio. During those times, he hadn’t dared imagine tasting her lips. Now he didn’t have to imagine anymore. And she tasted way better than he’d ever thought.
She looked lush and delectable, too, in the golden glow from the fire. He wanted to see and taste more of her.
Casey made a weak attempt to cover her breasts as Wyatt nimbly unbuttoned her borrowed shirt. He gave a little shake of his head and stayed her hands. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, silencing her garbled objections that she felt fat.
The heat in his eyes sucked Casey in. At that moment she felt…loved. She ignored any lingering concerns and gave herself over to Wyatt’s tender attention.
He never directly mentioned her baby, but as he kissed her belly he asked if he should stop, or if it was safe for her to make love.
“It’s fine,” she said, shivering. She didn’t want him to stop his exploration of her body. “I’m perfectly healthy, so there’s no reason to worry. Please, Wyatt,” she added, running her hands over his bare shoulders. She wasn’t sure when he’d stripped off his sweatshirt but she loved the feel of his skin. “Please, don’t stop.”
He didn’t, thank heaven.
Wyatt took such care, Casey felt as if this was her first time making love. She wasn’t used to such a considerate, generous partner. Wyatt made sure she was satisfied before he sought relief.
Some time later, when they drifted down from the most passionate high, Wyatt pulled the blanket over them both. He tucked her to him and pressed his lips against the sweet spot just below her left ear. And in the half hour she spent in his arms before sleep claimed both of them, Casey treasured all his whispered endearments.
But, even so, she didn’t kid herself that this could last any longer than the storm that raged outside. They’d simply shared some of the human warmth that had been missing from their lives. She silently wished it would never end, all the while knowing it would.
CASEY WOKE UP AND LANGUIDLY stretched her arms above her head. It was dark except for a faint glow of embers burning low in the fireplace. Wait—she didn’t have a fireplace. For a second she struggled to remember where she was and why. Then the events from the night before crashed over, and she realized the weight across her middle was Wyatt’s arm.
The two of them had changed places sometime in the night and she now lay on the edge of the sofa, with him pressed into the cushions.
Guilt flooded her. Had she really just slept with her boss? What on earth had she been thinking? How would she ever be able to face him at work? She’d abandoned her good sense for one night in Wyatt’s arms and no doubt ruined their professional relationship.
Slipping out from under Wyatt’s arm, she covered her nakedness with the flannel shirt, grabbed her undies and all but ran down the hall. The tunic and pants she’d hung in the bathroom were only slightly damp. The heavy wool shawl felt cold. She didn’t care, she decided, yanking them on with shaking fingers.
Her shoes were stiff but dry. They would get her where she needed to go. Still, Casey couldn’t help taking one last, loving glance at Wyatt, relaxed and rumpled in sleep.
What they’d done last night had been thoroughly unprofessional. Casey had listened to him speak of how he’d met Angela. And how guilty he felt about not being able to protect her. He glossed over her death, and the loss of their baby, but Casey had sensed his anguish. Somehow, she’d fallen in love with Wyatt. She thought she’d told him. He hadn’t returned the sentiment.
Casey rubbed at an ache lodged near her heart. She needed to leave before Wyatt woke up. How awkward it would be to face each other.
Considering what a kind man he was, Wyatt probably would apologize and repeat that she still had the job. She’d rather leave and remember the night they’d shared as something special, even if she knew it meant more to her than it did to Wyatt.
Perhaps she could pull off acting unaffected. A modern woman to whom a one-night-stand was no big deal.
So why were there tears running down her cheeks as she slipped out Wyatt’s front door?
A block from the house she phoned for a taxi. Last night’s sleet had turned into a misty rain. While she paced on the corner, waiting for the cab to show up, Casey tried to tell herself it was only rain she was wiping from her face.
WYATT ROLLED OVER, EXPOSING his bare back to cold air. He awoke enough to realize how contented and relaxed he felt in spite of the chill in the room. Casey got all the credit for that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d greeted a day feeling this rested and…carefree—a term that hadn’t applied to him since at least a year before Angela died. Those months she’d been insanely busy. Wyatt couldn’t remember a single time she’d made it to bed prior to his falling asleep.
Except the night she got pregnant.
All at once, he came fully awake and shot bolt upright. He was naked on his sofa, except for a blanket that barely covered his legs. The power was still out. The fire was stone cold. His sweats lay crumpled on the floor.
Casey. Wyatt kicked off the blanket, threw on his sweatpants and hustled down the hall to the guest room. The most likely scenario was that he’d taken up too much space on the couch and she’d gone to sleep in the bed.
She wasn’t there, nor in the bathroom or kitchen. For a minute he stood in the middle of the living room and wondered if the previous night had been a dream. But he knew it was real.
Why had she left like that? Without waking him to say goodbye? Apparently the night they’d shared meant nothing to her. And that upset Wyatt.
It wasn’t until he stepped beneath an icy shower that he started to worry that maybe he’d hurt her. What if he hadn’t been careful enough last night? What if their lovemaking caused her to lose the baby? What if she’d been in trouble but couldn’t wake him?
Shutting off the shower, he jumped into his jeans and a clean sweatshirt. He punched in Casey’s cell number, but it went straight to voice mail. Then he called her at home as he struggled to keep the phone to his ear and pull socks on over still-damp feet. He got no answer. She wouldn’t answer if she was at the hospital, you fool.
With his heart pounding like a kettledrum, Wyatt reran an all-too-familiar drive to a hospital he’d hoped never to set foot inside again.
“ARE YOU QUITE SURE no one admitted Casey Sinclair in the last few hours?” he demanded of a receptionist who was beginning to cast her eyes around for a security guard. He made a conscious effort to calm down. “I’m not a nutcase,” he said. “Casey works for me. She’s pregnant, about six or so months along. I can’t reach her on her home phone. We worked late last night,” he said inanely. “She had car trouble and given the magnitude of the storm…Are you positive she’s not here? She lives in Round Rock.” Wyatt stopped then, knowing he probably did sound unhinged.
The receptionist typed something into her computer. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t see her listed as even having been treated and released from Emergency. Could be she’s merely stuck in traffic. Or maybe she decided to spend the night in a motel instead of going all the way home.”
The woman’s placid smile irritated Wyatt. He wanted to shout that he knew Casey hadn’t gone home last night. She’d spent most of it with him, making wild, passionate love, and that was why he was so damn worried.
He didn’t share that information with the matronly clerk, although in her position she’d probably seen and heard it all.
“Is there a hospital in Round Rock?”
&nbs
p; She handed him a telephone book from under the counter. “The numbers should all be in this.”
Wyatt flipped through the book, found three medical centers in the Round Rock area. He copied their numbers on a page he ripped from a magazine, then ran out to his SUV and began calling.
It took time to work his way through the numbers to find out that no Casey Sinclair had been treated at any local hospital. Between calls, Wyatt again tried reaching her at home, to no avail. He knew he should be relieved to learn she hadn’t been hospitalized, but instead his worry escalated. After all, Angela had suffered her trauma at the side of the road.
Wyatt was about to start the Subaru when his cell rang. He flipped it open, hoping to hear Casey’s voice. His caller was Roy Mitchell.
“Hey, Wyatt, I’ve been trying to get hold of you half the morning.”
“I’ve been searching for Casey,” Wyatt said.
“That’s who I’m calling about. She just left my shop. She called me at an unholy hour to come give her a tow. I replaced her battery, but that starter’s not gonna last. She’s got an electrical problem someplace. Wouldn’t let me do any diagnostics because she can’t afford to put any more money in that junker right now. Damn fool woman needs a new vehicle. She didn’t want to hear that, either. She mentioned having to save money for when she has her baby. I didn’t even know she was pregnant. All I know is someone oughta talk some sense into her. I thought if you have any influence as her boss…or maybe you don’t. She strikes me as pretty independent. Anyway, I said I could get her a good deal on a safer used car. My offer stands in case you can convince her. I’m heading home now, but let me know either way. I was out all night towing cars that spun out during that storm. It was something, wasn’t it?”
The Baby Album Page 15