by Rebecca York
The circle of eyes around him was hard, nervous. Nobody spoke, so Bud filled the silence with more information.
“But you’ve got something you can use to stop him. See, he’s convinced that Colin fathered a child before he died and he wants to get his hands on that baby. Which is how you’re going to get him off your backs.’’
“Okay, we’re listening,’’ Trafalgar said. “But what do you get out of it?’’
“A nice-size finder’s fee.’’
MATT AND AMANDA PARKED in the garage under the hotel and took the elevator to the second floor. Somehow, closing the door behind them triggered the reaction she’d managed to repress until then.
Starting to shake, she folded her arms across her chest and struggled with the sudden, sick feeling that she and Matt would spend the rest of their lives like hunted animals. When she made a moaning sound in her throat, Matt was at her side.
“Sweetheart?’’
She tried to speak, but her teeth were chattering too badly. Turning her, he pulled her into his arms, and she linked her trembling fingers behind him, his solid body a shelter against the storm raging around them.
His hands soothed up and down her back until she was able to stop her jaw from trembling.
“Oh, God, Matt, when I saw him coming after you, I didn’t know what to do,’’ she gasped.
“I was afraid you were going to get hurt. Or the baby!’’
“All I want is a normal life. Is that too much to ask?’’ She hated the pleading note she heard in her own voice.
“No. It’s not asking too much. It’s what you deserve. And I’m going to make sure you get it.’
She clung to him, marveling at the strength of his commitment. Never in her most secret dreams had she dared to imagine a man who knew all the things she’d tried to hide, who understood her to the depths of her soul—yet still wanted her. And she’d almost been foolish enough to let him go. Her arms tightened around him, binding him to her.
She heard him swallow. “This was supposed to be our wedding night. I’m sorry I messed it up.’’
“No. Don’t think that! It wasn’t your fault.’’ Tipping her face up, she met his dark, brooding gaze. “You had no idea this was going to happen. Neither did I. It was just bad luck, like you said. And now that we’re married, our luck is going to change.’’
The intensity of the look that passed between them almost shattered her. Sharing that much naked emotion with someone else was still hard for her. Shifting her gaze away, she inspected the places on his face that were going to be bruised in another few hours. “You need some ice on your jaw,’’ she said in a shaky voice.
His eyes turned warm. “Maybe you can kiss it and make it well.’’
Obligingly she reached to gently touch her lips to an emerging bruise.
“A little higher up, and to the right,’’ he said, his voice husky.
That would put her lips on his, she realized as she complied with the request, making the kiss gentle so as not to hurt him.
Within seconds she discovered he didn’t want gentle. He wanted hot and passionate. One hand slid to her bottom, stroking her through the soft fabric of her gown as he pressed her against his erection. Suddenly her whole body was on fire.
She moaned, twisting against him, trying to ease the throbbing between her legs, as his free hand came up to cup her breast, tease her nipple that strained toward his fingers.
In seconds they were both gasping for breath. Desperate to make him understand what she was feeling, she tried to tug him toward the bedroom, but he resisted.
“Matt, please. I need you. I love you so much.’’
He looked down at her, stunned. “You love me?’’
“Yes. I should have said it before. Now I want to show you. You have to let me show you.’’
He gently stroked his hand against her cheek. “Wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am wasn’t what I had in mind for our wedding night.’’
“I know. But I need to make love with you now.’’ She made the plea more urgent by reaching between them and boldly finding him, stroking him sensually, making a strangled sound rise in his throat as he fumbled for the zipper at the back of her dress.
Panting, they tore at zippers and buttons, stripping each other within seconds, then touched, caressed and kissed in a wild rush of feeling.
With a deep growl, Matt pulled her down to the carpet right where they had been standing, pressing his back against the rug and pulling her on top of him.
“We’d better do it this way, or I might be too rough,’’ he grated as he drove her wild with his skillful hands. With a low sound of need, she brought him inside her, moving frantically, driving for release.
She climaxed so quickly she barely had time to catch her breath, and Matt joined her within seconds. Then she collapsed on top of him, her chest heaving and her body trembling with little aftershocks.
His arms came up to circle her, hold her to him as his lips stroked her damp cheek.
She raised her head and looked down at him in wonder. He looked just as dazed, his hand lifting to gently touch her lips, her cheek.
She couldn’t hold back a grin she was sure looked like a cat who had just stolen a slice of roasted chicken.
He pulled her back against his chest and held on to her, rocking her possessively. But she knew that they couldn’t stay here.
“We have to go,’’ he told her, his teeth nibbling at her ear.
“I know.’’ She forced herself to break the contact of skin against skin, then let him help her to her feet.
Looking around, she was abashed to find herself standing naked with clothing strewed in a circle around her and Matt.
“You don’t have time to be embarrassed. Go get into some traveling clothes.’’
“How do you know I’m embarrassed?’’
He laughed. “The look on your face. You’re wondering how you’re going to walk all the way across the room naked.’’
He was right, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it as she stalked into the bedroom, grabbed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom to clean up.
In fascination she stared at herself in the mirror. She was thirty years old and almost five months’ pregnant. When she’d been a teenager with those boys who wanted to get what they could from her, she hadn’t felt anything except shame—and sometimes discomfort—when their hands groped her body. But every time Matt touched her, she felt the need to meld herself with him.
She continued to stare at her reflection, trying to determine if she seemed different—beyond the obvious bulge at her middle. All she could see was that she was the same basic person. The sensuality must have been there all the time, but she hadn’t known it existed until she’d fallen in love with Matt Forester. Loving him made the difference.
“Are you awake in there?’’ he called through the door.
“Sorry.’’ Hurriedly she pulled on a pair of the slacks he’d brought her, and one of the flowered tops.
When she emerged, she found he’d packed their clothing in the duffel bag he’d bought—including their wedding outfits.
He looked at the plastic bag and washcloth she was carrying. “I want to put some ice on your jaw.’’
“I don’t need it.’’
“Yes, you do. Stop being macho.’’
He gave her an exasperated look but allowed her to make a stop at the ice machine before they took the elevator to the lobby. There were no other patrons in line at the reception desk, and Matt paid cash, talking about how he’d hit it big at the craps tables.
A few minutes later they were in the truck again, with her holding an ice pack to his jaw as he drove.
She expected him to head straight for the highway. Instead he made a detour to what looked like the low-rent part of town, then pulled into a gas station where the lot was littered with cars in various states of repair.
“What are we doing?’’ she asked as he parked the truck in an empty space.
“Getting a set of wheels that will be more comfortable for you.’’
Apparently he’d already made the arrangements, because a mechanic came trotting over and handed him a set of keys.
When he saw Amanda, he gave her a once-over, then kept his eyes averted from her middle. “Your boyfriend ordered this baby—’’
He stopped, flushed. “This sweet little number special for you,’’ he told her, rushing around the side of the building to a big boat of a late-eighties Cadillac that gleamed from a recent washing.
“For me?’’ she asked innocently, playing along with whatever story Matt had fabricated. Not so long ago, his stories had made her nervous. Now she was kind of enjoying them. But when they were safely in the car, she asked, “What exactly did you tell them?’’
“The truth. That I was desperate to marry you. Only I invented a father who was standing in my way. And I thought this car would impress him.’’
“Oh, Matt.’’ With the new insights she’d acquired, she realized something she’d been too dense to figure out before. She’d been fearful of the silver-tongued devil. But every time he’d made up a story to explain why they were together, it was about how much he wanted her. Or that she was carrying his child.
Gently she touched his cheek as he headed for the highway. “You’re sweet,’’ she murmured.
“Am I?’’
“Very.’’
“That’s not a great recommendation for a tough security man.’’
“It’s a great recommendation for my husband.’’
“Your husband,’’ he said in a husky voice, and she could tell that the reality was just sinking in. Reaching over, he squeezed her fingers, then brought his hands back to the wheel. “We didn’t get that doctor’s appointment for you,’’ he said. “We’ll do it as soon as we get to L.A.’’
“Thank you.’’
They had cleared the outskirts of the city. Turning, she looked back at the bright lights behind them. Ahead was only the darkness of the desert, broken by an occasional pair of headlights coming toward them.
When she couldn’t suppress a yawn, he turned his head toward her. “You should get some sleep.’’
“I want to stay awake—with you. This is our wedding night.’’
“Yeah.’’
She thought for a moment. “Tell me about the drug guy, Dexter Perkins.’’
He laughed. “Not a very romantic subject.’’
“No. But maybe it will keep me awake.’’
“Okay. Let’s see…He was from a middle-class home, but his father ditched the family when the kids were teenagers and got himself a younger wife. Dexter had some minor brushes with the law. Then he cleaned up his act and went to UCLA. He was a brilliant student, but he clashed with some professors in the chemistry department and quit.’’
To her chagrin, that was all she remembered, because she fell asleep before they were fifty miles outside Vegas.
THEY SPENT the first night in the L.A. area in a motel in the Valley. Then Matt found them an apartment in a small residential hotel in Santa Monica where Amanda could see waves breaking on the beach from their third-floor window. She’d never seen the ocean before, and the sight of the endless waves rolling in fascinated her.
Matt rented the place for a month, explaining that they would probably leave before the time was up. She didn’t tell him how tired she was of changing residences. Instead she enjoyed the small freedoms he judged were safe—like walks on the beach when he came home in the afternoon and trips to shopping centers to buy baby clothes and some softly feminine maternity dresses that he insisted on getting her. She’d never been much for dresses, but she found she was enjoying the way they made her look. And she definitely enjoyed the warmth in Matt’s eyes when he looked at her.
She had just popped a pan of biscuits into the oven one evening when she heard Matt’s exclamation from the living room, where he was relaxing in front of the TV.
“What?’’ she asked, sticking her head around the archway that separated the two rooms.
“Another one of those Las Vegas guys bought the farm,’’ he said, gesturing toward the TV screen.
Amanda settled on the couch beside him. This time the dead man was Chet Houston, who had apparently walked into his office in the middle of a robbery attempt. He’d been shot in the head.
“I don’t like it,’’ Matt muttered.
“Now, you really don’t think it’s a coincidence,’’ she said, not bothering to make it a question.
“That’s two people who were involved with Colin in the casino deal who are also dead.’’
“What do you think it means?’’
“Maybe that somebody who was excluded from the group is making his displeasure known. Maybe that Roy thinks these guys were responsible for Colin’s death and he’s following through with his revenge threat.’’
Their attention shifted to a more personal topic as the announcer continued. “Authorities are looking for a tie-in to the hit-and-run death of Chris Tallwood, an associate of Houston’s. A man who made inquiries at the offices of both men last week is wanted for questioning.’’ It was followed by a description that matched Matt—the way he’d looked last week. Then he’d been in a white shirt and a business suit. These days he wore jeans and T-shirts.
He swore under his breath, and she reached to clutch his hand. When he felt the pressure of her fingers, his reassurance was instantaneous. “They don’t have my name. But they’ve figured out someone who looks like me was nosing around both offices.’’
“What are we going to do?’’
“Sit tight. There’s no reason to think the guy they’re looking for has gone to L.A.,’’ he said, stroking the dark mustache that he’d been growing on his upper lip. He was letting his hair grow, too. Once it had been conservative in length. Now it was brushing his collar in back.
The buzzer in the kitchen rang, and she jumped up to get the biscuits out of the oven before calling him to the table.
He took a big portion of the stew she’d made and two biscuits. But she watched as he ate, looking for signs that he was more worried than he was letting on.
“This is the best cooking I’ve had in years,’’ he said as he used a biscuit to sop up some of the rich gravy.
“You said that yesterday.’’
“It was true yesterday, too. That Middle Eastern chicken dish you made was fantastic. If I’d known what kind of cook you are, I would have proposed as soon as I saw you.’’ He grinned, but she was pretty sure he was forcing the good humor.
“Are you going to cancel my appointment with Dr. Stalton tomorrow?’’ she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
He’d gotten her an appointment with an OB/GYN in Monrovia, telling the receptionist that his wife had accompanied him on a business trip to California. Now she watched him weighing pros and cons in his mind.
“I know it’s important to make sure everything’s okay,’’ he finally said. He thought for a minute. “I gave a false address. And with the fake ID, it should be okay.’’
Relief swept over her, and she reached across the table for his hand, stroking her thumb across his knuckles.
“We’ll get through this,’’ he said, his voice strong with conviction, but she wasn’t sure whether he really believed it now or whether he simply wanted it to be true.
ONE THING SHE DID KNOW was that he was very cautious when he drove, staying strictly within the speed limit and making frequent checks in the rearview mirror.
At the doctor’s office, she sat with Matt in the waiting room, filling out an insurance form, trying not to feel as if she had intent to defraud as she wrote down the false information she had memorized.
Then the nurse took her back to one of the exam rooms, asking her to take off all her clothes and slip into some of those absurd paper garments that were only a little better than being naked.
“I didn’t have to undress when I went to my own doctor last,’’ she o
bjected.
“Dr. Stalton always does an internal exam with new OB patients.’’
“Oh,’’ she answered. When she was alone again, she reached for the buttons at the front of her dress, then stopped as a sudden feeling of vulnerability swept over her. What if Logan had found out about the appointment? What if he was planning to come in and scoop her up when she was least able to flee? For a paranoid moment, she thought about leaping out of the cubicle, running back to the waiting room and grabbing Matt’s hand.
Closing her eyes, she ordered herself to get a grip. But her hands were still shaking as she undressed herself and climbed onto the exam table.
When she heard a knock at the door, every muscle in her body clenched. Then Dr. Stalton walked into the room and introduced himself.
“Thank you for seeing me,’’ she managed to say.
“You’re a little tense. Is something wrong?’’ he asked as he listened to her heart.
“I’m always nervous with a new doctor,’’ she answered, willing herself to calm down.
The doctor was both gentle and thorough, telling her that she was still a bit small for her due date but it was nothing to worry about. After that, she got to listen to the baby’s heartbeat, which was reassuring after such a long time without a doctor’s visit.
Still, when she came back to the consultation room, she was alarmed all over again to find Matt talking to Dr. Stalton.
“Is there something wrong?’’ she asked, hearing her voice rise.
The doctor looked at her in surprise. “No. Mr. Cunningham asked to be included.’’
Mr. Cunningham was Matt. Ralph Cunningham, which she was having trouble remembering, since she’d never met a man who looked less like a Ralph Cunningham.
“In any case, I like to bring the husbands back if they’ve come here with their wives. Doesn’t your regular physician do that?’’
Amanda opened her mouth to answer, but Matt was already speaking. “I wasn’t able to come with Susi on any of her earlier visits to her regular doctor. So I appreciate getting to be here today.’’