The Pregnancy Promise
Page 12
One last stop when he swung by the office on the way back to Lianne’s apartment. Picking up some files, he could keep them in reserve in case he had time to work while she rested. He knew she didn’t want him there, but something compelled him.
Annalise opened to the door to his knock.
“Pretty flowers. I told her you’d be back. She’s asleep. It’s the best thing for her. I think there are vases beneath the sink. I’d stay, but you have things under control. I put my number by the phone in the kitchen in case you need to get in touch with me.”
He nodded. He couldn’t think of a reason he’d need her, but if it made her feel better, he’d go along with it.
It was quiet when she left. He found the vase and filled it with water. Taking off the wrapping paper, he stuck the flowers in. They were bunched together and looked bright and cheerful. He quietly walked to her room. She was sleeping, her face slightly flushed. Placing the vase on the nightstand, he left as quietly.
Tray made a space for himself at the dining table, powered up his laptop and went to work.
Lianne woke late afternoon feeling better. She breathed a sigh of relief. Most likely the worst was behind her for this month. Stretching, she noticed the flowers beside the bed. Mums were such a fall flower. She loved them. These were burnt-orange, bright yellow and a pale cream. Lovely. She was feeling pampered.
She rose and went to the bathroom, taking a leisurely shower. Dressing in loose-fitting pants and a warm sweatshirt with bunnies on the front, she wandered out to get something to eat. She stopped suddenly when she realized Tray sat at her dining table. She’d thought herself alone in the apartment.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “Feeling better?”
“Much. I thought you left hours ago.”
“Went home to get a few things. I came back before your sister left. Need anything?”
“The flowers are from you?”
He nodded, watching her closely.
She smiled, surprised. “Thank you, they’re lovely.”
“Need anything else?”
“Nothing I can’t get myself. Go on home, Tray.”
“I’m staying,” he said calmly, returning his gaze to his computer. “Cute bunnies.”
Lianne glared at him, but Tray merely returned her stare with an amused one of his own. She considered demanding he leave, but had a suspicion he’d ignore her.
Continuing to the kitchen, Lianne set about preparing tea and some muffins. She tried to appreciate his willingness to help, but she didn’t need it or him. Even her sister knew better than to crowd her space. Yet the more she thought about it, the more she was touched he stuck around.
Once her light meal was ready, she carried it into the living area. She could demand he move and let her use the table, but she’d just as soon eat the snack on the sofa. Still, she wanted to do something to assert her rights in her own place!
He looked at her. “Is that enough?”
“For now. I’ll eat more for dinner if I still feel okay.”
“I’m starting to realize how severe these attacks can be,” he said, rising and coming to sit beside her on the sofa.
“Doctors don’t recommend surgery lightly,” she said, feeling as if he took up more than his share of space. She couldn’t move without being obvious, but he seemed too close. Glancing down she saw there was more than a foot of sofa between them.
“All the more reason to see if you can get pregnant as quickly as possible,” he said.
She could feel herself grown warm with embarrassment. She wasn’t comfortable discussing sex with Tray. It was one thing to relive every moment at night when she was alone in her bed, or during a break at work, but the thought of shedding her clothes and his and making love again was more than she could casually handle with him so close.
“Be easier if we lived together,” he continued. “We wouldn’t be limited by a trip to the cottage.”
“Okay, you have made your point—several times actually. I agree—when I’m fertile. But other than that, there’s no reason to.” She’d make any concession to get him to stop pressing her on the matter. She needed to maintain her independence.
He studied her for a moment. “When you’re ready my place is bigger. I have two bedrooms. You’d have more privacy.”
“Fine.”
“So when do you think you’ll move in?” he asked.
Was there a hint of self-satisfaction in his tone. Lianne frowned. She felt pressured.
“In a week or so.” Once there she imagined there’d be nightly bouts of sex. She almost caught her breath at the thought. She’d loved the two nights at the cottage. She just wished there was a bit more to their relationship. All intimacy required some time to develop. Physically they had been as intimate as two people could be, yet he held so much in reserve, she didn’t feel close to him as she would like. Did he feel that way about her?
“I brought some DVDs. Look through and see what you like.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
“And miss the movies?”
The rest of the weekend passed uneventfully. Tray left Sunday morning after she assured him she was past the worst. Still feeling shaky after her bout she didn’t do much beyond reading and going for one walk. The day proved blustery so it was a short trek. But at least she got out of the apartment. Always in the back of her mind was the thought of moving in, temporarily, with Tray in a few days. What would it be like to share a space with him?
Monday at work, Tray called to check on her.
Tuesday he stopped by for a moment.
Wednesday he had Emily call in the afternoon.
Thursday he stopped by just as Lianne was ready to leave.
“Going home?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Yes. I’m fine, Tray, as I’ve told you every day this week.”
“When are you coming to my place?”
She hesitated a moment, taking time to button her coat. It was cold outside. “In a few days.” She dare not procrastinate beyond her optimum fertile time. Yet she felt as shy as a schoolgirl around him these days. She had to shake that feeling off and get on with the business of having a baby.
Looking at him, she made her decision. “Saturday.”
“Then let’s go out to dinner tonight or tomorrow. Early Saturday, I’ll help you carry your things to my place,” he suggested.
“I’m only bringing a few clothes, not moving,” she protested.
“Want to go to the cottage after you get settled at my place?” he said, ignoring her comment.
“Don’t you have to go to Richmond to sort things?”
“It can wait a little longer. I’ve decided to rent the house for the time being. I can always sell it later if I want. So I’ll need to get it cleared before I list it with a rental agency. But there’s no great rush.”
“This way you keep it in the family longer,” she said. It showed a surprising sentimental streak in the man. She had not expected that.
“Who knows, our son or daughter may wish to live in Richmond when grown.”
Her heart skipped a beat with his casual mention of their child.
“What are you worried about?” he asked.
She was surprised he’d picked up on how she felt.
“Nothing.”
“Something.” He pushed away from the door and walked across the office to stand beside her. Leaning over, he brushed his lips against hers. She jumped back.
“That’s it, isn’t it. You don’t like me touching you.”
“I like it.” She could get to like it too much. “It feels rushed. I know it is, because of time. I just feel funny about it all.”
“So spending time together will help you feel more at ease, right?”
“I guess.”
“Then come to dinner with me tonight.”
She debated. He had a point: if she felt more comfortable around him, things would be easier.
“All right.”
She nodded, watching him speak, wondering when he would kiss her again. Far from disliking his touch, she was really afraid she’d grow to like it too much.
Tray took her to a grill near the capitol on Thursday evening. It was not crowded. The food was delicious and due to the dearth of customers, the service was excellent. Once they’d been served, Lianne glanced around.
“I haven’t been here before. Is it a favorite of yours?”
“My second time. I came with a couple of men from work and we enjoyed it.”
She cast around for another topic of conversation, smiling when she had the perfect question. “Tell me about growing up in Richmond. We grew up in the District, so how did living in Virginia compare?”
“Probably similar. Played cowboys and Indians when young, sports as a teen.”
“We all played. Which ones, basketball or baseball?”
He looked at her in amusement. “Is this an inquisition?”
She shrugged. “Sort of. You know lots about me, but I still don’t know a great deal about you. What was your favorite sport?”
“Baseball in spring, football in fall, pickup games of all kinds in summer.”
“Not basketball? You’re tall enough,” she asked.
“I played in school…didn’t care about it one way or another.”
“What did you do best in school?”
“Math.”
She blinked. “I’m surprised. Why aren’t you an accountant?”
He laughed at that. “Just because I was good at it didn’t mean I wanted to deal in numbers all day long. What were you best in?”
“History.”
“So, why not be an historian, or a teacher?”
“Good point. I love what I do, actually. I find it more fascinating than any other job I can think of.”
“Me, too. The training I received in the Army enabled me to open Protection, Inc. There are new programs and training I take all the time to keep on top of the field. Trying to outwit others is intriguing enough for any man.”
“Keeping people safe is important. It’s a rough world these days. Did your uncle approve of your career?”
“He wanted me to do what made me happy.”
“Is that how you feel about our child, he or she can do whatever as long as they’re happy?”
“Within reason—no bank robbery no matter how happy that makes him.”
Lianne was surprised at his teasing note. She always associated Tray with being serious, focused, aware of everything going on around him. It reiterated her point that she didn’t know him all that well.
“So tell me about your best friend in school,” she said.
“Jason is still probably my closest friend. He and I have gone through a lot together.” Tray began to tell her stories of two young boys growing up. Much of what he related sounded like her own brothers and their friends. She laughed from time to time. She suspected Tray was embellishing things. This side of him intrigued her. Was he actually flirting with her? In a low-keyed, Tray sort of way?
The mealtime passed swiftly. She was sorry when it was time to leave.
“Come in for some coffee or hot chocolate,” she invited when they reached the door to her apartment a short time later.
“I have to be in the office early tomorrow for a call from London, so I’ll take a rain check,” Tray said. He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her.
Lianne returned the kiss, open to his gentle pressure. She knew he was trying to make things easier between them and she needed to get over being shy, but all rational thought fled with the touch of his lips to hers.
He moved his hands to pull her into a hug all the while kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with full measure.
A few moments later both were breathing hard and she forgot about coffee and wanted a bed where they could continue what they started. Forget about making a baby—she wanted Tray and she didn’t much care if he knew that at the moment.
When he pulled back, she took a deep breath. “Come in and stay the night,” she said.
He considered for a moment. “I have an early call from London.”
“So leave early—really, really early.” She turned and fumbled for the door. He reached around her, took the keys and opened it.
Entering the dark apartment, he stopped her from turning on a light. Slipping her coat from her shoulders, he shut the door behind them and brought her back into his arms.
Tray kissed her again, enjoying her passionate response. He had sensed the reserve in her before and had to find some way around it. Her response was all he could hope for—and more.
Slowly he savored every taste, every move she made. He liked the small sounds she gave, almost like humming, or purring. She didn’t pretend, but let him know exactly what she found delightful and what pleased her.
He had not planned for this, but since she seemed to be as involved as he was, he wasn’t stopping. The apartment was faintly illuminated from the outside, buildings in Washington still lighted even though it was after ten. There was enough to enable him to move them toward the hallway without running into furniture.
Lianne kissed him back, running her hands over his shoulders, around his neck, her fingers combing through his hair. She was a bundle of soft curves, fitting into his embrace perfectly. Sweet and soft and feminine, not exhibiting any inhibitions.
Kisses were no longer enough; he wanted all of her.
When they reached the bedroom, he stopped for a moment, tilting up her face to see her in the dim light.
“Are you sure?” he said hoarsely. He would hate to stop, but the bigger picture was more important. If she wasn’t ready, he would stop.
“Yes, are you?” she said, her voice breathless and sexy.
“Oh, yes,” he said, kissing her again. His hands tangled with hers as they removed clothing. Shirts dropped to the floor. The feel of her heated skin was heaven. He trailed kisses across her shoulders, along the tops of her breasts. She was warm and sweet and he wanted her more than he had ever wanted another woman. And for a moment, that scared the hell out of him.
Slowly he lowered her on the bed and came down beside her. The timing was off for a baby, but not for a night of love.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRAY hated to leave before dawn. Lianne was asleep, curled next to him, one hand on his arm. He woke early, knowing he’d have to hustle to get home, shower and change and make it to work before the call came through. But he didn’t want to move. He took a breath, smelling the perfume she wore, or was it her own special scent? He wished it were light enough to see her sleeping. He remembered how she’d looked at the cottage one morning. Her eyelashes were long and thick. Her cheeks had held faint color. Her hair had been tousled and spread across the pillow.
He sucked in another breath and slipped from the bed. Any further reminiscing and he would never leave.
The streets were almost empty of traffic, it was too early for the morning commute to be in full swing. He made it to his flat in record time, trying to focus on the aspects of the important call, but his mind kept wandering back to Lianne.
Tomorrow she was moving into his flat. He wouldn’t have to leave in the cold dark of predawn in the future. He could have those extra minutes he’d wanted. He knew he’d offered the second bedroom, but either she’d sleep in his, or he’d sleep in hers. A year ago he had not known Suzanne was pregnant. Having a baby was the farthest thing from his mind. Now his uncle was dead, Suzanne was no longer in the picture and the most important goal he could go for right now was having a baby with Lianne.
And then what?
Tray took a quick shower, shaved and dressed in under twenty minutes, focused on the call coming in, he deliberately turned his mind away from Lianne. Time enough to think about the future
after the baby was born.
Lianne was not at all sure she should have agreed to move into Tray’s apartment. They were playing with fire, trying to build a relationship with the chance of having a child together not a sure thing. What was he going to do if they tried for months and nothing happened? She couldn’t go on forever dealing with the pain. Sooner or later she had to take her doctor’s advice. It was early yet—she couldn’t say she’d given it much of a chance so far. But she was becoming more involved with Tray and if things didn’t cool down a bit, she was afraid of what would happen.
Not that she thought Tray would have any complaints. She worried about her own feelings—what if she fell in love with the man? It was not a bad thing to love a baby’s father, but usually that came about before a baby was born—and the regard was mutual between both parents.
When she arrived at work, she had almost put the matter from her mind. There were a flurry of notes on her normally cleared desk. The situation in the Balkans was heating up again and they had an operative there watching for an assassination attempt. She scanned the messages and began calling up every scrap of recent information she had on the politician they were guarding, and the terrorist activities in the area.
Shortly after nine, Emily called her. “Tray wants to see you.”
“I’m busy right now,” Lianne said, glancing between her computer screen and the notes she jotted down a couple of weeks ago.
“He’s leaving soon…needs to see you now,” Emily said.
“Leaving? Okay, I need to talk to him anyway. I’ll be right there.” She gathered some notes and a printout of the latest AP report of activity in the area and headed for Tray’s office.
“Go on in,” Emily said when Lianne arrived. “He doesn’t have much time.”