by Leanne Banks
Pulling on his clothes, he slid his feet into his shoes. He thought of Nicola and his gut hurt again. Hard to believe, but a woman had given him an ulcer. He'd better get used to that gnawing, empty feeling. She may as well have given him the big heave-ho the other night. Jamming his prescription into his pocket, he walked to the emergency waiting room. Four heads popped in his direction. His brother, Harold, Lea and Michael, and his son Reid.
"Dad?"
"Abe?" his brother said in disbelief. "If you tell me they let you walk away from a coronary, then I'll eat my hat."
"No heart attack," Abe said. "I have an ulcer."
At that moment he saw Nicola step from behind Harold and his heart jumped.
Harold shook his head. "You have an ulcer, but we've always said you're the one who gives the ulcers."
Abe didn't waver from looking into Nicola's eyes. She looked both frightened and relieved, confused and something more. Something deeper that gave him hope. She looked as if his little visit to the E.R. had scared her to death. "Yeah, well it looks like someone else has been giving me ulcers."
He bullied Nicola into returning to Crofthaven with him. He knew she wouldn't cave to his every demand for long, so he decided he would maximize her moment of weakness. It wasn't nice, but being without Nicola made him feel a lot less than not nice. Being without Nicola made him feel as if he lived in a vacuum.
He ran into resistance pretty quickly in the foyer. She hadn't taken her eyes off of him since they'd walked into Crofthaven. It was as if she was assuring herself that he truly was okay.
Which she seemed to have accomplished when he told her he wanted her to stay the night in his bed.
"I'm not sleeping with you," she said for the second time.
"Why not? You have a medicinal effect on me."
She shook her head, clearly still rattled. "You need your rest."
"I'll rest better with you in my bed," he said, pulling her into his arms.
"Only you," she muttered into his chest.
"What only me?" he asked.
"Only you would go to the E.R. and want to have sex the same night," she said in an exhausted voice.
Abe took in her wan face and switched gears. "We don't have to have sex. I just want you beside me."
"I have a hard time believing that," she said.
"You don't trust me, huh?"
She opened her mouth then closed it. "I'm just speaking from experience. I've never shared a bed with you when we didn't make love."
Granted, it would be tough. He would have to be on his deathbed not to want to make love to Nicola. But maybe this was part of his proving ground. "Maybe you should see if I'm good for my word," he said, laying down the challenge, knowing she had a tough time turning down a challenge from him.
She covered her eyes and groaned. "Okay, okay. I'll stay with you tonight. If you try to make love to me, then I will have proved my point."
There would be no trying, Abe thought. There would only be doing. But not tonight. "And if I don't?"
"Then we'll see," she said evasively. "Can I borrow one of your shirts for the night?"
* * *
When Nicola awakened the next morning, she felt Abe watching her before she opened her eyes. "You're supposed to be resting."
Propped on his elbow, he slid his fingers through her hair. "I'm enjoying the view."
She smiled, closing her eyes again as she luxuriated in him stroking her hair. "You're so kind. I'm sure I look like a train wreck. You scared me to death last night."
"Fair is fair."
She opened her eyes and stared at him, but still didn't move away from his touch. "What do you mean by that?"
"You give me an ulcer. I scare you to death. Fair is fair," he said, continuing to run his fingers gently over her hair.
His touch had a drugging effect on her. It was hard to sustain the urge to slap him when she had an equal urge to purr. Nicola forced herself to move. "If I'm the cause of your ulcer, then I definitely should leave."
"Whoa, whoa," Abe said, blocking her with his arm. "I meant your leaving causes my ulcer."
She met his gaze and felt a melting sensation at his confession. "You're sure about that?"
He nodded. "Sure."
She closed her eyes. "Okay, then you can stroke my hair again."
He chuckled. "I never knew how much you liked this until you told me your mother used to do it."
"It's so soothing," she said. "It almost has a hypnotic effect on me."
"Ah," he said. "A secret power. I'll have to use it wisely."
She smiled. "I said almost. Besides, you already have enough secret powers."
"Is that so?" he asked.
"Yes, it is," she said, opening her eyes and looking into his. Her heart welled with love. Oh, damn, this was inconvenient.
"Nicola, seeing you in my bed when I wake up is the most beautiful thing in the world."
"Now I know you must need glasses because I know how I looked last night. I was a mess inside and out and—"
"Hush," he said, covering her mouth with his finger. "I'm the authority on what I believe is beautiful. Have dinner with me tonight."
Her heart tripped. After last night, she couldn't find it in her to say no. Her mind kept playing the scene in the emergency room over and over. What if they had lost him? "Where?"
"Wherever you want."
"My place. I'll fix."
"Still too chicken to be seen with me in public?" he asked, rubbing her lip with his index finger.
"I prefer the term prudent."
"I don't want to be just your secret lover," he told her.
She swallowed over a lump in her throat. "You could never be just my secret lover."
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her. It was an easy, take-your-time kind of kiss that still managed to make her dizzy.
He pulled back and sighed. His eyes reminded her of a wild lion, possessive and predatory. "I want to make love to you," he said. "I won't because I promised I wouldn't. I just want you to know that my morning shower is going to be cold and it's all your fault."
* * *
Okay, so she cheated. Although for the most part, her nausea had passed, Nicola still couldn't face the sight of raw meat, and since Abe was definitely a carnivore kind of man, she ordered takeout from one of her favorite seafood restaurants. Three portions of shrimp fettuccini just in case he wanted seconds.
So, how did she tell him she was pregnant? And when? More than ever, Nicola knew she had to tell him. But did it have to be tonight? Couldn't she have just one more evening of Abe and his delicious attention without sharing the knowledge of the baby?
Heaven help her, she was greedy. She felt guilty and frustrated. She wished the news would thrill him, but he'd made it clear it wouldn't. It was going to change everything.
As she heated bread sticks and prepared salad, she brainstormed how to tell him. She was a PR person. If there was a perfect way to communicate the news, then she should know how to do it.
"Guess what? You're going to be a father. Again." She practiced and cringed.
"I'm pregnant," she said. That didn't sound right, either. "You're still a stud and you have Olympic swimmers. I can prove it."
"I don't expect you to marry me. I'll raise the baby on my own," she whispered. That felt closest to the truth, but she didn't know if she could say it and look him in the eye at the same time.
"Okay, so maybe tonight is not the night to tell him," she said, but knew she needed to give herself a deadline. It seemed cruel to tell him before Christmas. That would definitely blow the holiday for him. She felt a twist at the knowledge. Oh, how she wished things could be different. In a different circumstance, the news would be like a gift.
She bit her lip as tears burned her eyes. Nicola pressed her fingers to her eyes to keep her mascara from running. These emotional swings were hell on eye makeup.
The day after Christmas, she decided. Seven days. That way, he could enjoy the hol
iday, eat his meal in peace and hopefully by that time his ulcer medication would be fully into his system.
She set the dining-room table with the china provided by the owner along with water and wineglasses. She went ahead and poured water in both her water and wineglass to head off questions from Abe. Since it was just a few moments before he was to arrive, she opened the pinot noir.
The doorbell rang and she smiled to herself. Abe was always prompt. She met him at the door and felt another ounce of relief at the sight of him. "How are you?" she asked.
"Great now," he said and stepped inside. "Dinner smells good."
Nicola wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
He slid his around her. "What's this?"
"Indulge me," she said with a sigh. "I still want to make sure you're all right."
He chuckled and the sound gently rumbled through her. "I'll indulge you anytime, Nic."
She tugged him toward the table. "Come on. I have dinner ready for you. Shrimp fettuccini."
His eyes widened. "I'm impressed. I didn't know you could cook. This looks on par with Julian's Seafood Parlor," he raved.
There was a reason it looked on par with Julian's, because that was where she'd gotten it. And maybe she'd tell him that some other time. "Thanks. I hope you enjoy it."
He held her chair and motioned for her to sit down. "Thank you again." So gentlemanly, she thought, she almost felt guilty not fessing up to the Julian's takeout.
He sat across from her and lifted his wineglass to hers in a toast. "To many future dinners," he said, then added wickedly. "And breakfasts, too."
She laughed and clicked her glass with his. It was probably a good thing that she couldn't drink wine. Abe's undivided attention was already enough to muddle her mind.
They ate for a few moments in silence. "You said something the other night that made me think," he said.
Nicola cringed. Their talk had preceded the bout with his ulcer and the terrifying trip to the E.R. "Do we have to talk about the other night?"
"Yes, but don't worry. You were partly right," he said.
"Excuse me?" She wasn't accustomed to seeing Abe make many concessions.
"I thought about what you know about me, which is everything. The nature of running for political office means you have to reveal everything, warts and all. And you're a fool if you don't let your campaign director know everything in advance because she can't prepare."
She savored a bite of the shrimp fettuccini and nodded. "True."
"You know everything about me, but I only know what was on your résumé and what little bit I've been able to glean besides that."
She shrugged. "The election wasn't about me. It was about you."
"Yes, but the election's over, Nic. And our relationship is about us, not just me. I realized I don't even know your five-year personal plan."
Nicola felt a knot in her stomach. "When you interviewed me, I told you what I planned to be doing in five years. Managing the campaign for presidential candidate Abe Danforth."
"That's professional," he said, a grin playing around his hard mouth. "I want your personal five-year plan."
"I haven't given that a lot of thought. Have you? Do you know what your personal five-year plan is?"
"I didn't until this election. I know I want a better relationship with my children." He paused and met her gaze. "And I know I want you in my life."
Her heart caught at the intensity in his words. She swallowed a sip of water. "Honestly, I don't feel like I have a lot of control over what happens to me personally. I don't feel like I can say, it's December 20 and I want Mr. Right to walk through my door within three months and he will be this tall and weigh this much and love me so much he can't live without me even though I have flaws and baggage."
Abe leaned forward. "I have five children who have ambivalent feelings toward me, one of whom I didn't know existed until this year. I had an unsuccessful marriage and I was unfaithful to my wife. I live in a glass house because I've chosen to represent my state in public office. And I have an ulcer. I bet you can't top that baggage."
Nicola thought about the baby she carried. She thought about the baby she'd given up so many years ago. "That's debatable," she said.
He lifted an eyebrow and looked down for a long moment. "So were you a hooker or a terrorist before you became my campaign manager?"
* * *
Eleven
« ^ »
Were you a hooker or a terrorist?
Nicola glared at Abe, but couldn't disguise a chuckle. "Neither, thank you. But I did have a personal life."
"How many lovers have you had?"
She widened her eyes. "Oh, that's pretty personal."
"I'll tell you about my lovers if you'll tell me about yours."
The dare was there in his eyes. She should turn it down, but when it came to Abe, she had an insatiable curiosity. "Okay. How many for you?"
"Six," he said.
"Any you thought you were in love with?" she couldn't resist asking.
"Two," he said. "My wife and one other woman."
Nicola wasn't going to ask about the other woman. "Four for me, including my high school sweetheart. I thought I was in love with each of them for at least five minutes."
"Which one was your biggest heartbreak?"
"None of them. My mother dying was my biggest heartbreak," she said. It still hurt to remember how unprepared she'd been for how her life would change.
He nodded in sympathy. "It doesn't matter when you lose your parents. You still feel orphaned. And you were orphaned at a young age. So were my kids when my wife died."
She nodded. "But they had some security. And Harold."
"You didn't," he said. "I know that losing your mother was a terrible ordeal for you. It may sound crazy, but I want to try to find a way to make up for it."
Her heart expanded in her chest. "I think that's the most caring thing anyone has ever said to me. I feel the same way when I see you beating yourself up over your relationship with your children or even your late wife."
He reached for her hand. "I'm no expert on relationships, but being protective of each other, that would be a good quality, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, I think so."
"What was your second biggest heartbreak?"
"Besides not having Jon Bon Jovi propose to me when I was a teenager?"
He chuckled. "Yes."
"Probably having my high school boyfriend bail on me senior year," she said.
"Before senior prom?" he asked.
She paused then nodded. "Yeah, before prom," she said, but she was thinking about when she'd gotten pregnant. She'd never been more alone.
"And what about your other lovers?"
She shrugged. "They were temporary."
"So I don't have to kill three men?"
She smiled slowly. "No. Mentioning it is enough."
He took a drink of wine then a second almost as if he was fortifying himself. Nicola was filled with uneasy expectation.
"Do you know why I want to be with you?"
She shook her head. A few smart-mouth answers came to mind, but the look in his eyes quelled them.
He took another sip of wine. "Harold jokes about me being the type-A brother, the overachiever. But I'm human and I can't go ninety miles per hour all the time. I've spent the better part of my life avoiding downtime. Downtime gave me time to reflect on my failures." He cleared his throat. "In those quiet moments, I always felt completely alone. When you're with me, I don't feel lonely. I feel okay."
His confession rocked her. Abe wasn't a man for emotional disclosures and that he would trust her with his deep feelings left her speechless. She knew exactly what he was talking about. If she kept busy, then she didn't have time to think about what was really bothering her. She didn't need peace. Exhaustion took its place. Even now, he was looking at her and she knew he was waiting to see if she understood what he was describing.
She couldn't sta
y in her seat. The table between them might as well have been the Red Sea. Rising, she walked around the table to him and he stood. She touched his face.
He hadn't flirted or flattered. He'd just opened a door to his heart for her.
"You're such an amazing man. So amazing, I sometimes can't believe you're real."
"Oh, I'm real," he said, capturing her hand and holding it against his cheek. "I've got the ulcer medication to prove it."
She chuckled, but she felt all jittery inside, as if she was facing something momentous. She couldn't get close enough to him. She wanted to feel his heartbeat inside her. She wanted to hold him all night long, hold him so long that he would forget about feeling lonely at least for a while. She wanted to forget everything, all the problems that loomed around the corner, everything except this moment with Abe.
"I can't find my socks," she said.
He looked at her in confusion. "Socks?"
"Inside joke," she said.
"With who?"
"Me," she said and sighed. "When you told me you would wait for me to invite you to stay with me, I told myself I would stuff a sock in my mouth before I gave you your invitation." Her heart was hammering. "I'm out of socks."
He gave a half smile, but his gaze was still watchful and waiting.
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Oh, yes," he said and kissed her.
Within seconds, the sweetness in his kiss turned to something sharper and edgier. He sifted his fingers through her hair. "The way you feel drives me crazy. The way you smell," he said, nuzzling her hair.
"And your body," he said, sliding his hands down her shoulders, along the sides of her breasts to her hips.
"You make me feel like I have the best body in the world and I know I don't," she said, feeling her internal temperature climb.
"You're wrong," he said, skimming his hands over her breasts again. "Your breasts are perfect. In my hands, in my mouth." He groaned, and the sound ricocheted from nerve ending to nerve ending.
He tugged her sweater upward and she lifted her hands over her head like a child. He touched her bra with gentle fingers and her breasts grew heavy and sensitive. She craved his touch. She wanted his hands on her everywhere. A crazy primitive need she couldn't explain even to herself, but she wanted every evidence of desire he could give her.