Her Secret, His Child

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "All kidding aside, if Bradenton survives, it will be because Carly refused to let Old Brady sink without a fight. I won't go into all the reasons why these past weeks have been difficult ones for her, but I will say that I admire her tremendously, and for her sake, I hope the darn team wins every blasted game it plays." Grinning, Marca raised her glass. "To Carly."

  Carly had never been comfortable as the center of attention. Now, with Scanlon's lazy gaze leveled on hers and the strain of too many hectic weeks thrumming in her head, she felt almost giddy. Because she had to, she summoned a smile and murmured her thanks.

  Beaming at her like a worn-at-the-edges uncle, Coach downed his champagne in one swallow, then smacked his lips. "Not bad for a start. I'll buy the next round at Gallagher's for anyone interested."

  * * *

  By the time Carly and Mitch left Gallagher's an hour later, she was tired of talking. It seemed that everyone she knew had stopped by to meet the new coach. Driving them home, Mitch took the long way through campus, and she was nearly asleep with her head on his shoulder by the time they returned to the mansion.

  He parked the Jag in the spot he'd come to consider his own and killed the engine. Before she could move, he had his arm around her and was pulling her across his lap for a long, leisurely kiss. By the time it ended, they were both breathing hard, and Carly was realizing that she wasn't as tired as she'd thought.

  "It's been a long time since I necked with a pretty girl in a car," he said, kissing the tip of her nose. "Too bad there's not a drive-in movie around here so I could have an excuse to do more of it."

  She took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. "I forgot to mention it to you when you signed your contract, but here at Bradenton we expect our professors to refrain from all public displays of affection. Sets a bad example, you know."

  Mitch nuzzled her hair, and the light, whispery scent of her tempted him to do more. "I gotta tell you, Carly, since I've been on campus, I've seen things going on in broad daylight that even made an old guy like me blush."

  She rested her head against her shoulder and inhaled the clean smell of his skin. "That's only because the weather's nice. In the winter they do those things inside."

  She heard him chuckle. "I'm planning to head back to Sacramento sometime before Memorial Day weekend. There are things I need to do, arrangements I need to make, before I can move up here permanently."

  Carly wondered if he would miss her while he was gone. She already knew how she would feel. "When do you plan to start practice?"

  "Middle of June. I figure I'll let the guys blow off steam for a couple of weeks after classes end before I introduce them to my way of doing things."

  "Which is?"

  "Which is what I'd better be figuring out between now and then."

  She drew back far enough to show him an ominous frown. "That definitely doesn't sound reassuring, Professor Scanlon."

  He raised his eyebrows, giving him the look of a mischievous little boy. "Coach Scanlon to you, lady. I've even got the whistle to prove it."

  "You do?"

  "Yep. Coach gave me his. Said it had brought him luck, and since we both know I'm going to need plenty of that…" He let the thought dangle while he nudged her chin a little higher with his knuckles.

  He smiled even as his mouth covered hers. He felt her soften, and he buried his fingers in her hair, feeling pure softness swirl around his fingers. Her scent spun in his head until he felt disoriented, like a man who'd just had the wind knocked out of him. Even though he knew they were sitting still, he felt staggered. Humbled.

  He'd dreamed of this night after night, lying alone in a room in her house, imagining those soft lips yielding to his. Longing to feel her body against his, her soft breasts pressed against his chest.

  He tasted her slowly, his tongue running along the curve of her mouth until he was nearly crazed with desire. He tasted her more deeply, moaning as her tongue touched his, then darted away.

  Drawing back, he kissed each corner of her mouth, feeling her smile, and then slowly, indulging himself shamelessly, he trailed kisses along her throat until she moaned.

  "Come inside with me," he murmured against her silky, perfumed skin. To his room, where the bed was soft. And it was dark. "Please, Carly, let me make love to you again."

  He felt her go still, and he lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were slumberous, her lips slightly parted. Slowly her brows drew together in a frown. When she looked up at him, he braced himself for the gentlest of noes.

  "I'm … scared."

  Something tore inside him, and he bent to kiss her very gently. "I'll tell you a secret, honey. So am I."

  Her lips trembled into a smile. "If I change my mind…"

  "If you change your mind, we'll stop."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  She searched his eyes, looking for something he hoped to hell she would find, and then she nodded. "Let's go inside," she murmured, leaning into him to kiss his throat. "I like touching you without all these clothes in the way."

  Mitch felt a moment of raw fear. Then, before he could change his mind, he bent to kiss her one last lingering time.

  "C'mon, sweet Caroline," he said, smiling down at her. "Let's take this party inside, where it belongs."

  By the time they reached the guest suite, Mitch had gone quiet and his jaw had taken on a hard tension. Carly felt a flutter of nerves as he opened the door for her, then stepped back to let her enter first.

  "I used to love to come in here when this was Grandmama's room," she murmured. "She always had time to listen to my stories."

  "Stories?" He pulled his wallet and keys from his trousers and dropped them on the table.

  "More like fairy tales, I guess. Princes on white chargers type of thing. I was very romantic in those days."

  He took an awkward step forward until they were very close. She had to tilt her head back in order to meet his eyes. "And now?" he asked, his tone showing that he really cared about the answer.

  "Now I still believe in happily ever after for the damsel in distress, but I think she has to make it happen herself."

  He reached out to touch the garnet teardrop dangling from her ear. The back of his thumb rubbed her jaw, and she took a stuttering breath.

  "Are you living happily ever after, Carly?"

  "I'm content, yes."

  His hand tangled in her hair. It smelled like sunshine on a meadow and twined around his fingers seductively. "But not happy?"

  "Sometimes I am."

  "How about now?"

  She had to think about that. "More like surprised," she admitted.

  He lifted an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

  Needing to touch him, she ran her hand over his arm and felt the promise of power in the hard muscles. "Never in a dozen lifetimes did I expect to find myself here with you alone, with a bed only a few feet away."

  Gazing into his eyes, she saw a sudden wariness cloud the golden irises. "Why are you here?" His voice carried a tension that hadn't been there moments before. And his jaw was suddenly tight. What had she said, she wondered, to put him on guard all of a sudden?

  "Because I choose to be," she murmured, needing him to know that she walked her own path. "Because it's what I want."

  "Couldn't be you've decided to make me into another of your charity cases, could it?" His tone was icy now, his hard mouth biting off the words.

  Carly knew an instant of confusion before his meaning sank in. "I'm not even going to waste energy answering that," she declared softly, turning away.

  He caught her hand and pulled her back. "Stay," he said, his voice rough.

  "Why should I?" She hated this mix of emotions he could arouse in her. One minute he was vulnerable and charming, and the next he was pushing her away with hard cynicism.

  His smile was part cajoling rogue, part vulnerable man. "Because you have a generous nature, and because you believe in giving a guy who might just be a little
more sensitive than he should be a second chance."

  "Sensitive? You?"

  His neck turned the color of old brick, and a muscle spasmed along the hard line of his jaw. "Not everyone can handle sex with a paraplegic."

  She drew her eyebrows together. "I don't remember complaining about your paralysis the other night in the pool. In fact, I don't remember giving it much thought."

  His mouth moved. "It's easier for me to move in the water. Easier to pretend I don't have to do things differently these days."

  Suddenly his meaning was as clear as one of the auditor's printouts. It had been nearly dark in the pool, and the water had blurred the image of their bodies. But here in his room, with the lights on, he was afraid she would be revolted by the sight of his nude body, by his wasted legs.

  Very carefully, she skimmed her hand up his arm to his shoulder. "I have my own insecurities," she murmured. "For example, I always need to be on top."

  A flame leapt in his eyes at that, and she hid a smile of deep satisfaction. "Any particular reason?" he asked, his voice still tense.

  "Yes, but it's private. Are you okay with that?"

  Mitch searched her eyes for the pity he'd been half certain he would see there, but instead he saw a shadowed image of the scared eighteen-year-old girl who'd suddenly found herself alone and pregnant.

  "I'm okay with that." Desperately needing to touch her, he lifted a hand to her face. Smiling, she nuzzled his palm with her cheek, and like a floodgate suddenly letting go, his need poured out, nearly taking him under.

  He touched his lips to hers and felt her shudder. Her arms hooked around his neck, and she strained against him. "Whoa," he murmured, smiling when she drew back and squinted at him, her eyes already cloudy with desire. "How about we continue this over there?" he said, jerking his head toward the bed.

  She smiled and nodded, but before she let him go, she kissed the tension-hard corner of his mouth. They walked together to the bed. He stripped back the covers with an impatient jerk, and she laughed.

  "Tilly's going to have a fit if you tear her favorite duvet," she murmured.

  "I'll buy her another one," he said with an impatient glance at the satiny cover.

  "Don't think she won't insist on that."

  While she slipped out of her shoes, he unlocked his braces and sat down. After stowing his crutches out of the way under the bed, he took her hand and pulled her toward him. "Now, you were saying?" he said, his grin slanting crookedly.

  She kissed him, then reached for the top button of his shirt. "I remember seeing you play," she murmured. "I thought you were gorgeous then. You're better now."

  His hands were busy undoing her belt and sliding down the zipper of her slacks, but his eyes smiled up at her. "Thought you said we'd never met." Her slacks whispered down her legs, revealing a wisp of purple satin and lace almost too small to be called panties. He drew in a harsh breath, trying to hold on to his control.

  "Didn't you say you would remember a name like mine?" she challenged softly, busy tugging his shirt free of his trousers.

  He started to say something, but the sudden slide of her hands over his now-exposed chest had him sucking in hard. And when she slipped his shirt over his shoulders, then traced the line of his collar bone with her tongue, he groaned.

  "Does that feel good?" she murmured.

  "God, yes," he said, his voice thick. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pressed his face to the warm hollow of her belly and waited out the violent need to hurry. She was so warm and sweet and adorable, and he was drowning in her.

  He wanted her—no, he needed her—the way a man needed to feel cool sheets against his body when he was worn out at night, or to fill his empty belly when he'd gone too long without food.

  He kissed the marble-white skin below the lace edge of her bra, then hooked his thumbs under her panties and slipped them over her hips. She was perfect, he thought. Nicely rounded and soft. He ran his hand along a faint white scar just above the wedge of soft brown hair, and she stilled.

  "From your baby?" he murmured, and she nodded. Glancing up, he saw a shadow pass over her face, whether pain or pleasure he couldn't tell. Either way, he found himself intensely moved. "I bet you were spectacular with a big belly, sweet Caroline."

  He felt her tremble and bent to kiss the scar. Her hands tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly. He held her tight for a long moment, then set her away from him. "I think I'd better get my pants off while I still have come coordination left," he said, working up a smile.

  "Anything I can do to speed things along?" she murmured, tracing the line of his cheek with a fingertip.

  "Yeah, lights out would help."

  "All right." She reached over to turn off the lamp. The room darkened, but light from the outside streamed through the windows. Knowing instinctively what he needed, she went to the window and pulled the drapes, taking her time. Even with the drapes drawn, some light still filtered through, enough so that when she turned, she could see him silhouetted against the lighter texture of the sheet. He was lying flat, his spine arched up while he worked his trousers and briefs together over his hips. She heard the rustle of fabric, the muted sound of steel against steel, as he sat up to finish ridding himself of his clothes.

  While she was slipping out of her blouse, he was wrestling with straps and cuffs. While she was placing her clothing neatly over a chair by the window, he was twisting to put his braces on the floor, near at hand.

  Taking a silent, deep breath, she climbed in next to him and let him draw her back against the piled pillows. "You smell good," he murmured, cradling her against his big chest. "Very classy."

  She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and felt him tremble. "Do tell, Coach Scanlon, what does 'classy' smell like?"

  "Like flowers and candlelight and sex." He tipped her head up and covered her mouth with his.

  Though the kiss was tinged with impatience, he forced himself to go slowly even as her hands were racing over his skin, touching him everywhere, her fingers eager and testing, until he was slipping fast toward the already splintered boundaries of his control.

  He tasted her need, and his own spiked hot, bringing a shudder to the parts of his body that could still feel pleasure or pain. "Tell me what I can do to make you feel good," she murmured, her breasts soft, her nipples pebbled.

  "Anything you want," he managed to get out before a groan shook him.

  Taking him at his word, Carly let her hands roam over the hard planes of his chest, molding her fingers to the contours of powerful muscle and lean sinew until his breathing was tortured and her head was swimming.

  She loved touching him. She loved hearing him groan as her fingers found yet another sensitive area. She moved lower, aware of the heat of his skin and the extent of his arousal.

  She straddled him, and he cupped her breasts in his hands, the glitter of need in his eyes visible through the charcoal darkness.

  "Carly," he murmured, his tone strangled. "I can't wait much longer." He framed her waist with his hands and guided her to him.

  She gasped at the hot pressure, her mind swirling and her body consumed in an age-old need to be filled. Clutching his shoulders, she let him take over. His hands were gentle but urgent, caressing her, positioning her. He thrust upward slowly, inexorably, sliding into her with steady, hot insistence until he was sheathed inside her and she was soaring.

  Mitch fought for sanity, blood roaring in his head, and the pressure building in his body screaming to be released. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her soft frantic moans driving him mad. He began to move, thankful for the hours he'd spent strengthening the muscles of his belly and the still functioning muscles of his hips and thighs.

  He felt her tremble, her breath coming in helpless little gasps. He was breathing just as hard, his chest hot, his groin a pool of searing need. And then she was crying out, a long, sweet gasp of pleasure that brought tears to his eyes. He waited … waited…

  At last, fe
eling her relax slightly, he gritted his teeth and thrust hard again and again until pleasure exploded in him in a powerful, exultant rush. Spent, he collapsed against the pillow and pulled her close. Her skin was dewy, her hair a soft tumble against his cheek. Closing his eyes, he luxuriated in the feel of the warm weight against him. Gently, rhythmically, he trailed his fingers along her spine, loving the silky feel of her.

  She sighed, and the soft curling hair on his chest fluttered. "Still tickles," he murmured over her head. "I still like it."

  She smiled and let her eyes close. "Mmm."

  She heard him chuckle, but she was too drowsy to do more than curve her lips in a smile he couldn't see. He nuzzled her hair with his chin, then tucked her more firmly against him.

  Gradually his heartbeat settled to a more normal rhythm, and he found himself drifting, so comfortable that he never wanted to move again.

  Carly was gloriously drowsy, wrapped in a state approaching bliss, conscious only gradually that he'd stopped stroking her and gone stiff.

  "Mitch?"

  "Ah, honey, I need to move you a minute." His voice was raspy with pain.

  She rolled away from him and sat up. His breathing was ragged as he grabbed his left thigh with both hands and kneaded the hard knot steadily until slowly, imperceptibly, he relaxed.

  "What was it, a cramp?" she asked when he settled back again.

  "Yeah. Happens now and then. No real reason, just crossed wires." He reached out to stroke her breast. "I need to hold you again," he murmured. She went into his arms eagerly, full of emotions and feelings that she would need time and distance to sort through. For the moment she was greedy for the warm, sweet feeling of safety she'd found in his arms.

  They rested quietly while the big house settled around them. His chest rose and fell steadily under her, and her legs tangled with his. The powerful muscles that had allowed him to elude countless tacklers were gone, but the spirit that had driven them seemed even stronger to her now.

  Gradually she became aware of the steady thudding of his heart beneath her ear, and she eased her head up.

  "Hmm?" he murmured.