The Stud

by Barbara Delinsky

  "But irresistible. Will you stay?"

  "I'll stay. "

  "Until Wednesday morning?"

  "Until Wednesday morning, but I have to leave then, and I mean it, Spencer. I have a board meeting on Thursday morning. I'm the chairman. I can't miss it"

  "You won't. " He tipped up her chin and planted a smacking kiss on her mouth. "Thank you, Jenna. You won't regret this. "

  Jenna didn't, though if Spencer had told her what he'd intended, she might have had second thoughts.

  He didn't make love to her on Monday night, which threw her off balance partly because she wanted him to. Rather, he came up with tickets to see the Kirov Ballet at Wolf Trap Farm, and hired a limousine to take them there. It occurred to her that he might try something risque in the long back seat on the way home, but he didn't, and once in the hotel room, he settled her comfortably against him to watch a late movie that he swore was classic horror. Never a horror fan, she fell asleep as soon as she realized that he fully intended to watch.

  She woke up in his arms on Tuesday morning. He shifted her against him. He stroked her back and kissed her softly. She knew he was aroused, could feel it in his body, yet he made no move to make love. Instead, in a lazy voice, he told her about his place in the Keys and what it was like to wake up to the sun spilling across the ocean.

  "I know what it's like, " she told him. "I see it, too. "

  "But you're up north where it's cold. In my neck of the woods, you can walk stark naked on the deck just about year-round. "

  "God help the neighbors. "

  "No neighbors close enough to care. Kind of like your patio. Only warmer. "

  That said, he climbed out of bed. He was naked— he always slept naked—and though she saw only his back as he went into the bathroom, that was enough. His hips were narrow, his buttocks tight. Both made his shoulders look all the broader. His back and legs were tanned a dark bronze. His walk was smooth and fluid.

  Jenna had seen many a male model in her line of work, and while some had been younger and more handsome, none could hold a candle to Spencer for sheer virility.

  When he emerged from the bathroom moments later, he was wearing a robe, but she couldn't forget what he looked like without it. The image haunted her, stirring her blood each time she gave in to it, which was often. She didn't have anything—like work—to divert her mind. And Spencer was there, never farther from her than a yell.

  They had breakfast in the room. While he showered, she called her secretary to say that she wouldn't be back until the next day. Then she took her turn in the shower. When she was done, they set out for Georgetown.

  Had it not been for the ache inside her, the day would have been as carefree as the others had been. But alongside that image of a naked Spencer was one of his small plane heading south in the morning. If she was pregnant, there wouldn't be any excuse for their meeting again. He might be attracted to her, but he didn't want anything to do with a baby, and she still wanted the baby—now more than ever. While Spencer chased after his adventures, she would have his baby to love.

  But he wasn't gone yet. She was reminded of that time and time again—when he caught her hand in his, when he grinned at her, when he turned his blue eyes on her in a way that promised good things to come. He seemed oblivious to the women who looked at him, who were drawn either by those eyes or his height or his scar. He made Jenna feel as though she were the only one worthy of notice. No man had ever made her feel that way, which was why, by the time they'd had dinner that night and lingered over a third cup of coffee, Jenna was ready to follow him to the ends of the earth. When he asked if she wanted to go back to the room, she didn't trust herself to do anything but nod.

  The hotel was quiet. They took the elevator to their floor and walked down the hall. Spencer unlocked the door and followed her in. Then, coming up behind, he wrapped her in his arms.

  "Jenna?"

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "Yes?"

  "I want you. "

  That much was becoming clearer by the minute, to her infinite relief. "You could have had me last night"

  "I know. But I wanted to wait. I wanted you to feel the wanting, too. "

  Softly, clasping his wrist, she said, "I do. "

  "Will you do something for me, then?"

  "That depends what it is. "

  "I want you to leave the nightgown in the bathroom. I won't put the light on, if that'll make it easier, but I want to feel all of you against me. "

  Two days earlier, Jenna might have balked, but two days earlier she hadn't known this awful wanting. Shyness was just fine, until it interfered with satisfaction, and satisfaction was what she needed from Spencer. He was her lover, yes, her lover. She couldn't deny it any longer. He wanted her naked against him. She wanted it, too.

  "Okay, " she said softly, and heard him drag in a rough breath.

  "You will?"

  "Yes. "

  Turning her in his arms, he kissed her with a tenderness that might have brought tears to her eyes if she hadn't been burning inside, burning inside already. That was what he did to her.

  She was hanging on to the lapels of his shirt when he released her mouth. "Will you undress, too?" she whispered.

  "I always do. "

  "But when I do? At the same time?"

  "If you want. "

  "I do. "

  He gave her another, even softer kiss, then began to unbutton his shirt. She stepped out of her flats and unfastened her belt. When it was discarded, she unzipped her walking shorts and slipped them off. Spencer was unfastening his pants, but his eyes were on her, and though the room was dark, she imagined those blue eyes saw everything. Once she would have found that daunting, and she still half expected a wave of modesty to hit, but it didn't. The night was a veil of emotion, telling her that what she was doing was right. So she drew her shirt over her head and dropped it, then did the same with her bra and panties. When she looked at Spencer, he was standing in the shadows, as straight and naked as she.

  "Come here, " he said quietly.

  Her feet made no noise on the carpet. Heart pounding, she stood before him, half wishing she could see more of him, half grateful she couldn't. When he still didn't move, she touched his chest. "Spence?"

  His voice was low when he said, "That's what I want. Touch me more, angel. Your hand feels like heaven. "

  For a minute, she didn't do anything. She had never been much of an activist where sex was concerned. But touching Spencer seemed as natural now as holding his hand had been earlier. It was satisfying in ways she hadn't expected. And stimulating.

  Her hand trembled over his chest. She shaped her palm to his shoulder, and when the fit felt incredibly good, let the other palm do the same. His skin was smooth there. Seeking more texture, she dragged her hands down his hair-roughened chest, touching nipples that were tiny and tight. His breathing grew more ragged, but that goaded her on. Lightly her fingertips followed the wedge of dark hair that tapered into a thin line down his middle. She flattened her palms on his waist and slid them down his flanks, then to the front of his thighs.

  He whispered her name in a sound of sheer pain. Her hands froze; her eyes flew to his. While she tried to read his feelings, he made another, more strangled sound. "Don't stop, angel. Don't stop now. Keep going. I need you to touch me there, too. "

  Jenna would have laughed in relief if she hadn't been so curious. She touched him where he had asked. He was stretched into silk—she was amazed at how sleek, and how hard, how erect. She explored him with one hand, then with both until his groan reminded her that the rest of him was still waiting. Slipping her arms around him, she came against him naked for the very first time.

  That full-body touch was his undoing. Whatever restraint he'd had was suddenly gone. He kissed her and touched her like a man who couldn't get enough of either. He brought her to one climax before, then another when he was inside her, and after he had come himself, he stayed with her only until he had reco
vered his breath. Then, albeit careful to keep her on her back, he started all over again. This time, he kissed her everywhere. His mouth learned her body by inches, silencing the few protests she made without a word. Jenna was so stunned that anything could feel so good for so long, that she soon ceased protesting anything. She trusted that Spencer knew what he was doing, and put herself into his care.

  She lost count of how many times they made love. She ceased to care about who was on top, how long she lay still afterward or whether Spencer's sperm count was depleted.

  She didn't exactly feel a spark. In fact, by the time morning came, she was so pleasantly numb that she wasn't sure she would have felt a full-fledged explosion if it happened inside. But she knew. She knew. At some point that night, they had made a baby. All that was left was to wait two weeks for the proof.

  Chapter 9

  Sure enough, Jenna didn't get her period on the day the calendar said she was due. She didn't feel bloated or achy, the way she normally did at that time of the month. And her home pregnancy test read positive.

  She was elated. Secret smiles came often and lingered. She had badly wanted a baby; now she would have one. And what a baby. Spencer's child would be outstanding. She couldn't wait to feel it inside her, to see it, to hold it. A May baby. Nine months seemed an eternity to wait.

  That night, standing unclothed at the bathroom mirror, she looked closely at her body. Nothing of the pregnancy showed. Her breasts were no fuller than before, her stomach just as flat. She assumed it would be several more weeks before she detected the first of the changes.

  Later, lying in bed with the same soft smile that had been coming and going all day, she thought about that. She wasn't in a rush to look pregnant. All along, she had intended to keep early word of the pregnancy private, simply because it was her own sweet secret and to be savored as such. She had envisioned waiting to tell her board of directors about the baby until the second trimester, and then only when she started to show. Some would disapprove of her choice of single motherhood, but by then she would be far enough along—and have enough plans made—to still their worries.

  So, the board could wait to hear the news. And Jenna's friends could wait. Even Caroline could wait But Spencer? He was the one she agonized over long into the night. He had called her the week before to see how she was doing—it was the highlight of her week—and had asked when her period was due. She had upped the date by a day, thinking that she wanted to be sure, really sure, before she told him she was pregnant

  Now she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. She didn't want to give him the chance to say goodbye and never call again. She wanted another weekend with him. Just one more.

  Was there harm in it? One little white he? Not even a lie, but the failure to tell the whole truth? Was it so wrong, given how good he made her feel as a woman and how little of that feeling she'd bad in her life? She was prepared to put being a mother above everything else, but before she did, would one last passionate fling be so awful?

  She didn't think so, which was why, when he called her the following evening, she chose her words with care.

  "Did you get it?" he asked after little more than a hello.

  He didn't mince words, which was one of the things she loved about Spencer. He didn't hem and haw and beat around the bush like some of the men she knew. He had guts.

  She hesitated just long enough to suggest pain, then spoke in a voice low enough to suggest apology. "I think we'll have to try again. " She didn't elaborate. Understatement was better, silence even better than that.

  "Ahh, angel, I'm sorry. Are you feeling lousy?"

  "Not too bad. "

  "God, I'm sorry. I thought for sure something would have happened in Washington. I mean, we did it so much, and we were both so loose. What do you think the problem is?"

  "I'm not sure there's any problem, " she said firmly. She didn't want him worrying that there was something wrong with him. "Two months is nothing, really. "

  "I can't believe it's the position we use. I've been on top of you as much as under—and I refuse to believe it's because we did it too much—and don't even think that it might have worked if we'd done it in the doctor's office, because it wouldn't have. And even if it might have, " he tacked on vehemently, "I wouldn't have missed the fun we had. It was good between us. "

  She felt the womanly parts of her coming alive. "I know. "

  "So we'll try again. "

  Softly she said, "If you don't mind. "

  "I don't mind. " He sounded sober, but in no way put out.

  "Thank you, Spencer. You're a good sport. "

  "Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, I have a new idea this time. If we were to follow past pattern, we'd be getting together in another two weeks. I think we ought to meet sooner, like in ten days, and I think you should plan to take a real vacation from work then. I have to be in New York right around that time. I could swing by and pick you up, then fly you down here. My place is perfect for a vacation. "

  "Your place?" She conjured up images of sunshine, seclusion and sand.

  "It's warm and open. And relaxing. If there was ever a place to conceive a baby, this is it"

  Jenna had no doubt that was true, though conception wasn't any longer a worry. The worry was her peace of mind. Seeing his home would make things harder when she had to forget him. Then again, she did want to see where he lived. "I suppose I could take a few days off, " she conceded.

  "Not a few days. I'm talking a real vacation. "

  She thought of the office and her appointment book for the next few weeks. The timing was actually fine. The end of August was the quietest time of the year. "I could take five days and a weekend, " she suggested.

  "I was thinking ten. Plus weekends. Two full weeks. "

  "I couldn't do that. "

  "Sure you could. Don't tell me much of anything gets done the week before or after Labor Day. "

  He had a point, she knew. "But I'm never gone from the office that long unless it's for business. "

  He paused for a minute before saying, "You'll be out longer than that when you have the baby. "

  "True, but I'll be close by and accessible by phone. "

  "Hey, I'm not talking a trip across the Sahara by camel. I'm talking the Florida Keys. We're civilized down here. We do have phones. If you were needed, someone could call. Come on, angel, " he urged gently, "go for it. "

  He was right—about Labor Day, the phone, civilization—and she wanted to be with him. Thinking about it, she realized that she couldn't have asked for a better time or a nicer place. "Okay, " she said. "But I'll meet you there. I can take a commercial flight into Miami, rent a car and drive down. "

  "I'll be in New York anyway. I want to fly you back. "

  "Your plane is too small. "

  "But it's my plane. I know it like the back of my hand. If there's anything wrong, I can sense it before it even shows up on the dials. "

  "Uh-huh. Seems to me you've had trouble with it in recent weeks. "

  "And the trouble was fixed well before I crashed. "

  "Obviously. If you'd crashed, you wouldn't be around to talk about it. Survival would have been impossible. That plane won't protect you from anything. I've seen it It looks like it's held together by rubber bands. "

  "Rubber bands or not, in the past fifteen years I've criss-crossed this continent in that plane more times than you and I have fingers and toes combined. Double that. It's a safe plane, Jenna, and I'm a safe pilot"

  "You may be, but I'm a basket case of a flyer. I'd drive you nuts before we ever got off the ground. Seriously, Spencer. It would be better for both of us if I just met you there. "

  He was quiet for a minute. Then, sounding surprisingly dejected, he said, "You don't trust me. "

  "I do. It's the plane I don't trust and the weather. "

  Somberly he said, "I don't fly if either of those things are in question, which is more than I can say for the average commercial pilot. He has a schedule to keep. I don't Do you
honestly think I have a death wish?"

  "Some people might think that, given the adventures you've had. "

  "But do you?"

  After no more than a single heartbeat, she said, "No. " He respected life. She could tell that from his books, and from everything she'd experienced with him.

  "Then fly with me. "

  She squeezed her eyes shut "Spencer, I'll be so nervous. "

  "No, you won't, because you'll be sitting right beside me watching what I do, and you'll know that I wouldn't do anything to endanger either you or the baby that may be someday—if we can do it right this time. "

  She didn't want to fly on his plane. She really didn't want to. But she felt guilty letting him think there was no baby yet, when there was, and if it was an issue of trust, there was no one she trusted more than Spencer.

  "You'll be sorry, " she warned. "I'll be the worst passenger you've ever had. I may even get sick and throw up all over your cabin. " A brainstorm! She was covered in the event of morning sickness!

  His tone picked up. "No sweat. I'll bring barf bags. Hey, this is great, Jenna. We'll have a terrific time. I'm really looking forward to it. "

  "Uh-huh. Well, I will, too, once we get there. What should I bring?"

  Based on the answer he gave—a bathing suit, shorts and T-shirts and a sun dress—Jenna surmised mat life on Spencer's Key was thoroughly informal. Not that she expected or wanted anything different. Clothes were irrelevant. Being with Spencer was what mattered.

  He sent her flowers, a dozen bright yellow roses. They arrived at her office early the next morning with a note that said, "Cheer up. The best things often take the most work. We'll make it this time. S. " It was such a sweet, unnecessary thing to do—and made her feel so guilty—that she promptly burst into tears. She was abundantly grateful that she had beat most of her staff to work. She was the president of the company. Her people would be shocked to see her crying over a vase of roses.

  But the roses stood proudly on her desk, giving her a tiny thrill each time she looked at them. When Spencer called two nights later, she thanked him profusely and assured him that the flowers had made her feel better. He called two nights after that to see if she was feeling all right, then three nights after that to make sure she hadn't had any trouble making vacation arrangements at the office, then, again, from New York the night before he picked her up, to make certain she was ready.