SOMEBODY'S BABY

by Marilyn Pappano

  He was wrong. On the bed, a pillow tugged over to support her head, Sarah watched him undress. For a moment after removing the last of his clothes, he stood in front of the fire, and she stared at him, motionless, speechless. She had never realized how perfect, how beautiful, he was. His body was all long sleek lines, each muscle perfectly formed, each curve precise, everything flowing together to produce perfection. Beauty.

  He came to the bed, and the mattress sank as he lay on his side next to her. Slowly he brought his hand to her face, gliding his index finger across her jaw, over her cheek, down her nose to her mouth. As she'd done that afternoon, she opened her mouth to him, sucking the tip of his finger inside, biting the scarred flesh, bathing it. Lower, against her hip, she felt his manhood surge as the sensations spread up, out and down.

  He replaced his finger in her mouth with his tongue, slowly moving it in and out, deeper, hungrier. At the same time he touched her, for the first time really touched her. His hand found the small mound of her breast and dragged the soft cotton shirt back and forth over her nipple with each caress until, in spite of his consuming kiss, she moaned. He stroked her belly, as flat as his own but so narrow that he could span it with one hand. And he reached lower, between her thighs, pressing firmly against her as he slid his hand back and forth. When she whimpered and arched her hips to ease the ache he was feeding deep inside her, he shifted one muscular leg to rest over hers, holding her captive to his caresses.

  Sarah wrenched her mouth free and gasped his name. "Daniel, please…"

  His only response was a smile—faint, masculine, smug. Still smiling, he brought his hand back to her shirt and began unfastening buttons. She was naked underneath it, for her breasts were small and needed no support. But there was nothing wrong with small, he thought as he tugged the shirt from beneath her and tossed it aside. Not when they were nicely rounded and crested with hard rosy-colored nipples. His tongue lazily tasted one, then he sucked it into his mouth and the playing ended. He suckled her breasts hungrily, greedily, making her shudder with need. At the same time his hands found the snap and zipper of her jeans, and quickly, almost savagely, he stripped them and her panties away.

  His touch gentle once more, he stroked through the soft golden-honey curls between her thighs and found the hot moistness that awaited him. His fingers probed inside, testing, making her writhe. She was so small, he realized. He had teased her for being surprised by his size; after all, he was a big man. Now the tables were turned. Although she was a small, slender, delicate woman, he was stunned by just how small. How could he join with her without hurting her?

  As if she sensed his indecision, she reached for him. "Daniel, I need you," she whispered, her voice as thick and heavy as his need. "I want to feel you inside me, please…"

  "I don't want to hurt you." His voice was rough, almost a growl. They had come so far that he couldn't bear the thought of stopping, but the idea of causing her physical pain for his own satisfaction was even more unbearable.

  "The waiting is hurting. It won't hurt when you're inside me."

  He wasn't convinced, but he vowed to be as gentle, as tender, as he could. He moved between her legs, guided himself to her, and slowly, cautiously, filled her. His eyes, dark and wary, were on her face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort, but they found nothing but the loveliest, sweetest smile of pleasure he'd ever seen.

  Somehow they fit. He pushed deeper, and she took him, all of him, until soft brown curls met softer blond. Through some mystery that he would never understand—and would, thankfully, never question—they were perfectly mated.

  Sarah cupped her hands to his face, the dark stubble of his beard pricking her palms, and pulled him to her for a kiss. His tongue thrust into her mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips, and she welcomed it, the way she welcomed him. She moved with him, meeting him, giving herself over to him. The soft helpless sounds she made—of pleasure, he knew, not pain—excited him, driving him faster, deeper, his great muscles flexing and straining, until he suddenly became still. There was an instant of nothingness, then release exploded through him. He held her tightly, filling her, dimly aware of the broken cries of her own fulfillment; then he sank heavily, weakly, against her.

  He didn't know how much time had passed before he found the strength to raise his head. He looked down at Sarah, still beneath him, still joined with him. Her eyes were closed, her hands clasped around his waist, her smile gentle. "Let me move—"

  Murmuring in dissent, she tightened her arms around him.

  "I'm too heavy for you."

  She couldn't deny that—he was heavy. He was also the sweetest, most welcome burden she'd ever borne. "Sarah … honey…"

  Her eyes opened at that. "You've never called me honey before."

  Trying to support himself on one hand so she wouldn't be crushed, he reached behind his back and untangled her hands, then moved to her side. His hand automatically reached for her breast, savoring its softness. "Your hair is the color of honey," he murmured. "Rich … sweet … thick… And your eyes…"

  She reached for him, too, snuggling close to his warmth, sliding her thigh neatly between his, and Daniel forgot what he was saying. The feel of her leg, long and surprisingly hard muscled, pressing against the most vulnerable part of his body made him forget everything except this woman, and his need. Would it ever be satisfied?

  Sarah felt him changing shape, growing long and hard once more, and she pressed a hot wet kiss to his nipple. "Again, Daniel?" she asked, huskily teasing. "Do you think if we ignore it, it will go away?" While she waited for his answer, her hand slid down his stomach until it reached him, and her fingers gently and lovingly closed around him.

  His head was tilted back, his eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched. "You're not—"

  Her hand slipped lower still to cup him, and he gasped. "You're not ignoring it," he growled like a big angry cat. A tiger, she thought, or maybe a wildcat.

  She sounded like a cat, too, a greedy one. "No," she purred. "I'm not. One more time, Daniel?"

  She rubbed him tighter, and he groaned deep in his chest. Easily he turned her on her back and shifted between her legs, and easily, so easily, he entered her, smooth and deep and tight.

  Sarah felt her body working to accommodate him, felt the mere presence of him start the fever again. Soon, she knew, in a matter of minutes, there would be such sensation, such an overflow of feeling, that coherent speech would be impossible. Before that happened, there was one thing she wanted to say.

  "Daniel Ryan, you are—" Her breath caught as he withdrew from her heat, then slowly, inch by inch, returned. He withdrew again, and the ache created by his absence was spreading quickly, completely engulfing her. With one long, heavy, swift thrust, he filled her again, and she sighed. "Incredible," she whispered. "You are incredible."

  October 22

  Daniel woke at his usual early hour Monday morning, but for the first time in his life, he was in no hurry to get out of bed. He glanced at the bedside clock, saw that it was almost seven and knew he had another hour before Katie would begin stirring.

  Disciplining himself, he turned his attention to the window opposite the bed. The sky was dark, and he heard the faint splatter of rain on the glass. He welcomed the rain, cold and dreary as it was. He welcomed any excuse to stay in bed an hour longer.

  He glanced at the clock again. He'd been awake two minutes and hadn't yet looked at the woman snuggled so closely beside him. That was two minutes too long. Without the faintest hint of regret at his weakness, he turned to her, gently shifting her so he could study her. Sarah responded to the movement with a soft sleepy sigh, but didn't wake.

  God, she was beautiful. To wake up next to her every day would be worth any price he had to pay. If she married him, he would have that privilege without paying a thing. He would have the right to look at and touch her, to kiss her, to claim her in public as his own. And he would have the right to love her, like last night.

  T
he thought of their lovemaking flowed through him like a sweet dream, spreading warmth to every part of his body. He felt his sex stir with faint longing and gave a heavy sigh. He couldn't wake her after a long, restless night simply to start again. She had to be tired … although she certainly didn't look it. In fact, he thought curiously, she looked more rested, more relaxed, than he'd ever seen her. Even in sleep, a smile touched her lips, turning the corners up. He wondered if she was dreaming, and if the dream included him, then chided himself for such thoughts.

  Sarah opened her eyes to narrow slits, saw the broad expanse of tanned chest in front of her, closed them again and smiled. Her sleep-filled mind hadn't deceived her, after all. She was in Daniel's bed, snuggled up close to the naked hard length of his body— Her mind drew up short, and her leg shifted to investigate. Yes, definitely hard. Incredibly hard.

  "Are you asleep? Or just pretending?" he asked gruffly, sensing a change in her.

  Her smile grew broader and brighter as she opened her eyes to the sight of his face. "Good morning." Sliding higher in the bed, she pressed a kiss to his chin. The heavy growth of beard was rough and raspy and made him look wicked, she thought and decided immediately that she liked it.

  Good morning. The simple greeting took on new meaning for Daniel today. It was a good morning, for no reason other than that it followed last night. He softly, awkwardly, repeated it to her.

  "Daniel…" Sarah rose to her knees, taking the covers with her. She pushed him back, and he let her, mostly to see what she would do. There were a lot of ways to make love, and he was willing to learn every one.

  She nudged his legs apart and knelt between them. She was in an excellent position to study him, and she did so slowly, leisurely, taking in every long muscle, every strong and perfectly proportioned part of him, including— The sound of a cry next door interrupted her concentration.

  "Does Katie usually get up this early?" she asked, disappointment clear in her voice.

  Before she'd finished the question, Daniel was on his feet, pulling on the jeans he'd discarded the night before. "She never wakes up this early, and she never cries when she does wake up," he said grimly, fastening the row of metal buttons.

  Sarah watched him leave the room, then ventured from the bed herself. The air was cold, raising chill bumps all over her body before she reached her goal, Daniel's flannel shirt. She shivered into it and buttoned it, folded back the sleeves until her hands were exposed, then set about rebuilding the fire while she waited for him to return.

  When he came back, he brought the baby and a thermometer. He left the door open, and Sarah felt the heat filtering in. He deliberately kept his room cold, she realized, but the rest of the house was warm for Katie.

  She watched from the fireplace as he sat down on the bed and removed Katie's pajamas and her diaper. She should join them, she thought, swallowing hard. A good mother would be as concerned as Daniel, would want to help care for her baby, her little voice taunted. A good mother wouldn't stand all the way across the room, doing nothing.

  But if she went closer—close enough to see Katie's face, to feel her skin—she might see that something was wrong, that her daughter was sick, and the fear that held her across the room might overwhelm her. The social worker at the hospital had warned her more than a year ago that one of the consequences of Tony's illness would be an overreaction to any illness, no matter how minor, in Katie, but Sarah had never had to deal with it. In the three months that she had lived with her, Katie had been perfectly healthy. Now…

  The thermometer confirmed Daniel's suspicion. "She has a fever. Will you change her diaper while I get the Tylenol?"

  Sarah forced herself across to the bed, climbing onto the mattress next to Katie. "Hi, sweetie," she whispered, bending to brush her lips over the girl's forehead. It was hot, she admitted. But kids got fevers—colds, teething, an upset stomach—practically anything could cause a fever. It didn't mean it was serious. Dear God, it couldn't be serious.

  Katie didn't even smile for her. It was obvious that she felt ill, even to Sarah, who didn't want to believe it. After coughing a few times, she simply lay where Daniel had left her, staring at the soft blue flannel of her father's shirt, not caring about the woman who wore it.

  Sarah changed the diaper quickly, expertly re-dressed her in the fuzzy pink pajamas, then picked her up, cradling her in her lap. Katie remained there until Daniel returned and gave her the prescribed number of drops of medicine, then she immediately reached for him. This time Sarah did feel a twinge of dismay. A little girl should want her mother when she was sick, not her father. But this little girl didn't even understand the concept of mother. As far as she was concerned, "Mama" was just another name, like Katie or Zachary or Teddy. All she really understood was Daddy.

  "Dr. Hamilton's office opens at eight," Daniel said, holding Katie to his shoulder. "If we get ready now, we'll be there right on time."

  Sarah uneasily edged farther back on the bed. "Do you really think she needs to see the doctor? You haven't even given the medicine time to work." Was the look he gave her a little odd? she wondered, hoping it wasn't, knowing it was.

  "Her temperature's a hundred and one, she has a cough, and she's more than a little lethargic." There was a sharp edge to his voice, one that he tried to temper. "All you have to do is get dressed, Sarah. We can stop by your house on the way, and you can change or whatever, okay?"

  She nodded reluctantly and slid off the bed. It took her only a few minutes to find her clothes, rumpled after a night on the floor, then she dressed and took Katie downstairs while Daniel got ready. When he came down, wearing fresh clothes and cleanly shaven, he got a rain slicker from the closet and wordlessly offered it to Sarah. Already tugging on his denim jacket, she shook her head. "Keep it for Katie."

  He went outside to warm the truck, then came back for them. Carrying Katie, the slicker draped over her, he also held Sarah's arm, guiding her across the slippery ground.

  It hadn't taken long enough to get to her house, she thought. Daniel pulled into the driveway before she'd found an excuse for not going into town with them. She paused for a moment, looking at him over Katie's head, wondering if she could blurt out her fear and escape without explanations, without emotional harm. She knew she couldn't. "It'll just take me a few minutes," she murmured as she opened the door.

  She wasn't afraid for Katie, she told herself, sprinting through the rain to the porch. She was certain it was just a cold or maybe the flu, something the doctor could easily treat. She was afraid for herself. Afraid of the memories that taking a sick child to the doctor would bring back. Afraid of the way she would handle them on this dreary, rainy day. Afraid she would break down and tell Daniel everything, and he…

  Her house was even colder than Daniel's bedroom had been. She stripped off her clothes in exchange for clean ones, brushed her teeth, washed her face, combed her hair. She paused only briefly to meet her own eyes in the mirror. Had last night changed anything? Now that they were lovers, how would Daniel react to her story about Tony and why she'd sent Katie away? Would he temper his disgust or lessen his blame because they'd become intimate again? Or had last night been strictly physical, not touching his emotions at all?

  There were no answers in her eyes and no time to find them elsewhere. Pulling his jacket on again, she got her purse and left the house.

  Sarah was as quiet as Katie on the way into town, Daniel noticed. Was she concerned about their daughter's illness? Annoyed because he hadn't asked her opinion? Hurt because Katie had turned to him for comfort instead of her? He didn't know. And right now, he admitted frankly, he didn't care. Those were things he could worry about later, after Katie had been taken care of.

  Dr. Hamilton's office was in the front portion of a lovely old Victorian house two blocks off the main street. Sarah assumed that he and his family lived in the rest of the house. At the click of Katie's seat belt coming undone, she turned to look at Daniel. "I'm not going in."

 
He stopped and stared. "What?"

  "I'm not going in with you."

  "Your daughter is sick. Don't you even care?" The edge was back, but this time he made no effort to soften it.

  "Of course I care." She was struggling to keep her voice under control, to stop the telltale wavering that meant tears would soon follow. "She needs you and the doctor. Not me. I … uh, thought I would make a phone call, then meet you back here."

  His eyes were hard and unforgiving as he stared at her. "Damn it, Sarah, you're her mother."

  The way he said the last word made her go cold all the way through. She'd heard that particular inflection before. How could you give her away? You're her mother. A mother would find some way to keep her baby, no matter what it cost. What kind of mother are you, anyway?

  She didn't have many defenses against him, but she mustered the few she possessed and turned a cool, distant look on him. "Take her inside, Daniel. I'll be here when you're done."

  He lifted Katie out, then slammed the door with such force that the truck rocked. Sarah watched until they were inside the house, then tucked some change into her pocket and slipped from the truck.

  It was two and a half blocks through the rain to the nearest pay phone, and it was just that—a phone, no booth. Sarah dropped in some change and dialed Beth's number.

  "Are you all right?" her friend demanded after a moment. "You sound awful."

  "I'm fine," Sarah lied.

  "Come on, is that place finally getting to you? I couldn't stand living in such a tiny, boring little town. Or is it him! Has he driven you crazy yet? I honestly can't imagine what it was you saw in him two years ago. I mean, I realize that things were tough for you and you were lonely, but—"

  The wind changed direction, and so did Sarah, seeking a position where the rain would hit her back. "I like Sweetwater," she said, softly interrupting her friend. "And I love Daniel."