Husband Found

by Martha Shields

  She poked him repeatedly on his one good shoulder. “God forbid you be the one to take a risk. You insisted I be the one to crack first. But even when I did, you refused to have anything to do with me. What the hell do you think that’s done for my vanity? Huh, buster?”

  He grabbed her hand to stop her from poking him. “Take a good, long look at me, Emma. Can you honestly say you don’t find me repulsive?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation.

  He searched her face belligerently, as if looking for an excuse not to believe her. “How?”

  She took a deep breath. So she had to be the first one to take this risk, too. Then she realized she wanted to. Even if he didn’t return her feelings, she wanted him to know how she felt. “Because I love you.”

  Rafe went still. “You love me?”

  She took advantage of his shock to wrap her arms around him. “Of course I love you, you idiot.” She ran her hand over the rough skin of his shoulder. “I love every scar...”

  “Emma, don’t...”

  She bent to kiss a glossy crevice on his neck. “Every burned inch...”

  “Please...”

  Her next kiss followed a sliding path across the jagged, footlong gash that slashed across his chest. “Every ridge and bump and muscle.”

  Rafe pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “You don’t mean it You can’t.”

  She jerked back and glared at him. “You say something stupid like that again and I guess I’ll just have to beat it into your brain. I should know if I love you or not, so don’t you dare go telling me what I do and don’t mean.”

  Her angry words washed over Rafe like a healing rain. The words found their way into every dark corner of his being. He felt as strong and whole and light as the angel she’d drawn him as so many years ago.

  “How could you love someone like me?” he asked.

  Her face softened. “Sometimes I wonder that myself. If God had to send me an angel to love, why did it have to be one with broken wings?”

  Rafe frowned. “I never was an angel.”

  “You were to me. Your wings weren’t really broken when we loved each other six years ago. I loved you then because you were handsome and cocky and strong.” She ran her hands down his arms. “Your wings are broken now, but that doesn’t make you less of a man. In fact, you’re twice the man you were when I married you. Now you’re patient instead of reckless. You’re confident instead of cocky. As well as handsome and strong.”

  He shook his head. “Not handsome.”

  She placed a hand on either side of his face. “To me, you’re beautiful. But people don’t love angels because they’re beautiful. They love them because they’re sent from God. Their beauty comes from within. I love you for what’s inside of you, Rafe. For the part of you that can never be burned away. These scars have made you what you are, and because of that, I love them, too.”

  He searched her face for any hint of hesitation, but all he could see was love. How could he not believe?

  Tears burning the back of his eyes, he folded his arms around her and held her close. He’d finally found someone who not only accepted him—she loved every part of him. She saw his scars not as the ordeal he’d gone through, but as the journey he’d traveled.

  “You’re my wife and I’m never going to let you go,” he whispered.

  She placed her lips against his neck. “You’d better not. Or you’ll be a fallen angel as well as one with broken wings because I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  He drew back enough to smile down into her beautiful face. “Emma. Mi vida. Mi corazón. Mi esposa.”

  She smiled crookedly. “What? Not going to say your heart needs an EKG?”

  He chuckled. “I really did use such an awful pun, didn’t I?”

  “Among others. You—”

  She broke off as water came spilling over the edge of the tub.

  Cursing, Rafe plunged his hand into the water to yank on the stopper while Emma turned off the faucet. She grabbed the towels off the shelf and threw them on the puddle. He bent to wipe up the water, then tossed the towels on the hamper.

  He turned to find her smiling at him. His body flared with desire, but the water reminded him of what he’d been about to do. “I need to take a bath. I’m all sweaty.”

  “Then let’s kill two birds with one stone.” She smiled sultrily. “I’ve always wondered if this old tub is big enough for two.

  Love for this beautiful woman filled him until his skin felt tight, until he felt as if it overflowed the boundaries of his body like the water had overflowed the tub. Stepping close, he ran a finger down her soft, smooth cheek. “It does, you know.”

  Her arms circled his waist as if they knew their way. “You’ve tried it, have you? With who?”

  “I’m talking about my heart, not the tub. It needs you.” He placed a kiss on her lips. “I need you.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you that for a week,” she complained.

  Reminded of how she’d been trying to seduce him, he groaned. “Damn it. We can’t do anything tonight. You said I’m confident, but I haven’t been confident enough to buy protection.”

  “Stupid man.” She gave him an irritated shake. “You should always be prepared.”

  He tried to keep his frustration from showing as he slid his hands down the curve of her back. He kissed her temple in apology, knowing if he touched her lips he wouldn’t give a damn about protection. “I’m sorry. More sorry than you could ever know. It’s just that I believed I’d never need protection again, though I hoped against hope for a miracle—like this one.”

  “I should let you suffer tonight like I’ve been suffering for a week. It would be your just reward for not believing in me.”

  “You’re right.” He lifted his brows hopefully. “But what do you mean, should let me suffer?”

  She smiled like a cat that had cornered a mouse. “I mean, faithless man, that I’m prepared.” Taking his hand, she led him into the office where she opened the drawer in the computer desk and pulled out a box of condoms. “See?”

  Desire and relief swept through him as he took the box from her hand. Thank God they didn’t have to wait.

  He glanced at the box, then at her, his brow rising. “Only six?”

  She laughed out loud—a joyful, playful laugh—and stepped into his waiting arms. “If we run out, there’s a twenty-four hour drugstore at the corner of Union and McLean.”

  Chuckling, he bent, caught her behind the knees and lifted her. “The way I feel, I’ll be making a run around midnight.”

  “Sounds like I’ve unleashed a monster.” She laced her hands behind his neck. “Finally.”

  He shook his head. “Just an angel who wants to see if this earthly pleasure is as good as his memories.”

  “Oh, it is,” she said, her voice husky. “But you let me know, you hear? We’ll keep trying until we get it right.”

  He strode into the bathroom, determined to hold her to her promise.

  Emma woke to the sound of a door opening. Groggy, she turned over and grimaced as sunshine hit her full in the face. With a loud squeak, the door closed. That and the tired soreness of her body reminded her where she was and what she’d been doing.

  She smiled.

  “Dreaming of me, I hope.”

  She opened her eyes to see Rafe standing over her, carrying a tray. She caught a glimpse of her mother’s best silver. “What’s this?”

  “Breakfast.” He laid the tray on the dresser, then knelt one knee on the bed.

  She sat up, pushing hair from her face. “I don’t suppose you fixed it.”

  He claimed a kiss, then gave her a rueful smile as he sat on the bed. “You think Sylvia would let me?”

  Emma groaned. “I suppose it would’ve been too much to ask to keep our sex life to ourselves for a few days.”

  “Especially when you sleep so late.”

  Her gaze cut to the clock. “What time is it? Nine-fifteen?�
� She threw her leg over the side of the bed. “I’m late for work.”

  He caught her arm, preventing her from rising. “Relax. Sylvia called in sick for you.”

  “She did?” Emma turned to see his eyes traveling down her naked body bared when the sheet had slipped. She smiled at the desire raging across his face. After a night of lovemaking, he still hadn’t gotten enough. Good. Neither had she. “Rafe?”

  “Hmm?”

  “We can’t make love. We used all the condoms.”

  He blinked, as if bringing his mind back from a faraway place. “We did? All six?”

  She smiled wryly. “Counting the one I put my nail through because I was in such a hurry.”

  “Damn. I really was as randy as a teenager.” He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap.

  Emma’s chuckle broke apart as he swept his hand up her stomach to caress her breast. She enjoyed the rough heat of his palm and the dark blaze in his eyes for a long moment. Then with a moan, she turned over and bit his jean-clad thigh close to his hip. “That’s for making me want you when we can’t do anything about it.”

  He stood abruptly, digging into his pocket for his keys. “Where was that drugstore again?”

  He strode to the door, then stopped suddenly and released a torrent of Spanish curses.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He faced her. “Gabe and Randy will see me going to the truck, and they’ll want to go. How would I explain what I’m buying? Blow one up and tell them they’re balloons?”

  “Gabe’s home?” Emma sat and pulled the sheet up over her body. “Of course he is. Randy’s always here by seven-thirty. How did—What did Gabe say about me being up here?”

  “I had to think of something fast, and I wanted it to be something they’d understand.” Rafe’s eyes danced with laughter. “So I told them we had a sleepover just like they did.”

  Emma couldn’t suppress a giggle. “A sleepover?”

  He nodded. “Gabe wanted to come up and see you, but I told him you were still sleeping because—” he chuckled “—because we stayed up late having pillow fights. I thought Sylvia was going to choke.”

  Laughing, Emma fell back on the pillows. Seconds later, the bed dipped as Rafe knelt over her. She reached a hand up to caress his handsome face. “I enjoyed our ‘pillow fights.”’

  “Me, too.” He grinned widely and bent to kiss her. “And I plan on having a helluva lot more.”

  “You do?”

  He searched her eyes, then stretched out beside her. His face thoughtful, he took her hand in his. “Will you marry me, Emma?”

  She smiled and laced her fingers with his. “We’re already married.”

  “Do you want to stay married? Act married? Live like we’re married?”

  She answered with no hesitation. “Yes.”

  Relief smoothed the lines between his brows. “So how are we going to explain our suddenly moving in together to everyone? How are you going to explain that Gabe’s name has been Johnson all along, never Lockwood? How are you going to explain that you married another man when you were still married to me?”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “You didn’t have my death certificate. How did you marry Lockwood so quickly?”

  Her gaze fell. “My father made me lie when they asked me if I’d been married before. I still can’t believe I knuckled under so easily. I was so young, and I felt lost because you were gone.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to explain that to everyone? It’s none of their business. I don’t want to put you through that.”

  He was protecting her. But not in a macho, take-charge kind of way. He was giving her a choice. Emma’s heart expanded with so much love, it felt as if it was reaching out to touch his. This was proof of what he’d told her at the beginning—that he didn’t want to run her life, just share it. This was why she loved him more now than ever.

  She turned on her side to fully face him. “A wedding would cut down on explanations.”

  He rested his hand on her hip. “A ceremony will also make it seem that much more real to us. We’ve been apart for so long. And it will give our families the chance to hear us repeat our vows. We’ll tell Gabe, of course, and my family.”

  “I don’t want a big, elaborate wedding.”

  “No, there’s no need for that. Something quiet, maybe here at home.”

  Emma ran her hands across his broad shoulders, already intimately familiar with the warm, rough texture. She loved the way he thought of this as his home.

  He kissed her forehead softly. “I would like to get the father’s name changed on Gabe’s birth certificate. I’ll have to find out what we have to do, but I’ll make sure it’s done quietly. I don’t even know if it’s possible. It should be, with all the paternity suits in the courts.”

  At that moment she realized how much Rafe was willing to give up to protect her. “But everyone will think you’ve just adopted Gabe. They won’t know he’s your biological son.”

  He shrugged. “People won’t think less of me for adopting your son, so that doesn’t matter. What counts is that it will be there in black and white for Gabe, and for future generations, to know for sure.”

  “Oh, Rafe.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too, querida.”

  She drew back. “You do?”

  He smoothed strands of hair from her face. “Of course I do. What the hell do you think I’ve been telling you for the past twelve hours?”

  “You never said the words,” she pointed out.

  “I didn’t?” He placed an apologetic kiss on her lips. “I’m sorry. In my mind, it was absolutely, positively clear.”

  Relief washed away her doubts, like a wave clearing the beach.

  He ducked from under her arms. “Stay right there. I have something I want to give you.”

  She rose to her elbow and watched as he fished around in a dresser drawer. “What?”

  “Can’t guess?” A moment later he sat on the bed facing her, grinning like a little boy who’d made his mother a Valentine. He took her left hand and slipped a ring on her finger. “Your wedding ring.”

  Emma’s smile faded as the heavy stone of the University of Texas class ring slid around to the underbelly of her finger. The doubts that had been recently washed away came seeping back. This was the ring he’d given her when she was nineteen.

  She looked up into his beaming face. Who did he love? Emma the woman or Emma the girl?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s...” She flicked the stone back into place, only to have it slide around the other side. “It’s so big.”

  “I thought since—” Frowning, he reached to take it back.

  Emma closed her fist to prevent him. “I never actually wore it on my finger, except for our wedding night. I’ll just have to get used to it.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll buy you a real one. Everyone will expect me to, anyway.”

  “I want to keep your ring, Rafe. It was part of me for so long.”

  “Okay.” But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  The joy of the past night dimmed. His obvious hurt made her suspect that when he looked at her, loved her, he saw the Emma in his memories, not the Emma in his bed.

  To her, this ring symbolized their relationship six and a half years ago. She worried that he saw it the same way.

  Maybe it was selfish of her, but she wanted a new ring, a fresh start, proof that he loved her for who she was now, not for who she was then.

  “Your breakfast is getting cold.” She rose from the bed. “I’ll get dressed. Then we can decide how to tell Gabe.”

  “Yeah?” Sandwiched on the couch by his parents, Gabe looked expectantly first at Rafe, then his mother.

  Rafe glanced at Emma. They’d ended up waiting until after supper to talk to Gabe, and that morning they’d agreed the news shou
ld come from Emma.

  She gave him a nervous smile over their son’s head, then bent her attention to Gabe. She took his hand in hers. “You know how you’ve always wondered why Jerry doesn’t come see you?”

  Gabe nodded. “Other divorced dads visit their kids.”

  Rafe wondered how many kids Gabe knew whose parents were divorced. Knowing the divorce rate, it was probably the norm rather than the exception. He vowed it would never happen to his son.

  “Well, the reason why he never visits is—” Emma took a deep breath “—he isn’t really your father.”

  Gabe leaned forward to peer into his mother’s face. “He isn’t?”

  “No. You see, a long time ago I—”

  “Is Rafe my dad?” Gabe turned his bright-eyed attention to him. “Rafe, are you my dad?”

  Rafe glanced at Emma and received her nod of approval, then he laid his hand on Gabe’s slender shoulder. “Yes, son, I am. I’ve been your father all along.”

  Gabe’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “I knew it!” He scrambled onto Rafe’s lap to hug his neck.

  Emotion choking him, Rafe wrapped his arms around the slender body, hugging his son so tight Gabe yelped. Loosening his hold, he met the dark eyes so like his own.

  “I’m glad,” Gabe said with the proud simplicity of a child.

  “Me, too,” Rafe said.

  Emma scooted closer. “How did you know?”

  Their son shrugged. “Everyone says how much I look like him. Then last week when I messed up, Gams told me to ‘just wait until my dad got home.’ When Rafe got home, him and me had this long ’cussion. So I was hoping maybe he was my dad.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Trust Momma to give it away.”

  “I wish she’d done it weeks ago,” Rafe said.

  Emma had the grace to look sheepish. She pushed back a lock of Gabe’s hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Gabe. I just—”

  “That’s okay, Mom.” Gabe turned back to Rafe. “Does this mean I can call you Dad?”

  Rafe ruffled the hair Emma had just straightened. “You’d better.”

  Gabe cocked his head to the side. “Are we divorced?”

  Rafe met Emma’s eyes. They’d decided it would be better not to go into the full story with Gabe. He was too young to understand everything that had led them to this point. They’d tell him when he was older.