TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY

by Sandra Brown

"No."

  He buried his face in her neck. "For the last two weeks, ever since that morning at the hospital, I've been dying to be this way with you."

  "I know. Me too. I couldn't wait to tell you that we could make love again."

  He kissed her mouth. Then her breasts. He began to move. Faster.

  Moments later, as he lay spent beside her, he said, "Ria, there's nothing between Lisa and me. Nothing."

  "I know."

  "You know? Then why'd you run me through that wringer?"

  She rubbed her cheek against his. "I thought I'd die when I saw you in each other's arms. I didn't really think you were betraying your wedding vows, but I wanted to be sure."

  "Aren't you the one who suggested to me just a couple of weeks ago that I take a lover?"

  "Yes, but I didn't mean it," she said with chagrin. "When I saw you with Lisa I was hurt, furious, jealous."

  "You were jealous?"

  "Well, how would you have felt if you'd caught me with Guy?"

  "Jealous. Gut-sick. Murderous. I feel that way every time I think of him touching you."

  "He never did."

  He gazed down at her, bewildered. "What?"

  "Guy couldn't have been the father of my baby even if he hadn't had a vasectomy." She laid her hand against his cheek. "I never slept with him, Taylor."

  He breathed a curse, or a prayer. Then he kissed her with such tenderness, it made her weepy with love. Staring down into her eyes, he stroked her cheek. "You're the most fascinating woman I've ever met. Feminine, yet strong. Opinionated, but tactful. Ladylike, but sexy. Exasperating and exquisite. You can make me madder and get me harder than any woman I've ever known."

  She laughed. "Thank you."

  With his fingertip, he traced a circle around her pouting nipple. "Did I rush you?"

  She lowered her eyes. "I'm not complaining."

  "I'm sorry. It's just that I'd wanted you for so long, I couldn't hold back."

  "I forgive you," she whispered, drawing him closer, "so long as you keep trying until you get it right."

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  « ^

  He drove her to work the next morning and followed her into her office. No sooner had the door closed behind them than he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  "You taste so much better than ham and eggs. I think I'll just make you my breakfast every morning from now on."

  Her knees felt weak, just as they had the night before when he had kissed the backs of them. "Thanks for the ride."

  "My pleasure." He ran his hands over her derriere. "What time will you be here to pick me up?"

  "Five-thirtyish."

  "I'll be ready."

  "Hm, so will I." The double meaning was all too clear. For emphasis he kissed her with voluptuous thoroughness. When he turned to go, he caught a glimpse of her face. "Ria? Are you crying?"

  "Crying? Of course not. Don't be silly."

  "I thought I saw tears in your eyes."

  "The sunlight. It's making my eyes water." She went to the window and adjusted the blinds so that the sunlight coming in wasn't so direct.

  Taylor took her by the shoulders and turned her around. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong? Come to think of it, you've been awfully quiet this morning."

  "You haven't given me much opportunity to talk. We've been kissing ever since we woke up."

  He smiled with devastating sexiness. "I can't think of a better way to spend the morning." Seductively he stroked her lips with his thumb. She turned her head away. His hand fell to his side.

  "All right, let's have it."

  Something about the way he hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and assumed that arrogant stance set her teeth on edge. He was annoyed because she wasn't curling up and purring when he petted her. What was she, a trained cat? "Don't use that condescending tone of voice with me, Taylor."

  "Frankly, I don't know what tone of voice to use with you. We just spent an amazing night together. It should go down in the annals of eroticism, if there is such a thing. This morning I feel like I could pole-vault Mount Everest, and you're about as cheerful as a gravedigger. What gives with you? Doesn't anything make you happy, make you feel good?

  "Yes, when we're in bed together I feel great."

  "So what's the problem?"

  "We can't spend our lives in bed, Taylor."

  "I wouldn't mind." He smiled lecherously, and his blue eyes twinkled. But when he sensed her irritation, he sobered instantly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to joke."

  "Yes, you did. And rightly so. This marriage is a joke."

  "Then why aren't you smiling?"

  "Why didn't you call me?" she asked abruptly.

  "Huh? When? Call you? What are you talking about?"

  "After Christmas Eve."

  "Christmas Eve?" he echoed, flabbergasted.

  "Yes, Christmas Eve. Remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember. It was terrific."

  "Terrific sex."

  "Don't say it like that. It was terrific everything. There were plenty of sparks flying before we ever lay down on that couch."

  "Then why didn't you ask me out again?" He turned his back to stare out the window. Ria was crushed.

  She had put him on the spot. He didn't want to talk about this, and she would do well to leave the subject alone. But she couldn't. Like a sore tooth, she had to go back to it, probe it. She had to know. "Did you forget about it as soon as it was over?"

  He turned around. "No. Hell, no. I thought about it. I thought about you. You were all I thought about for weeks."

  Vastly relieved, she sat down on the arm of her office sofa. Softly she said, "As far as I know, my phone wasn't out of order."

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. "I wanted to call you, Ria. Of course I did, but I couldn't bring myself to."

  "Why?"

  "For one thing, I was embarrassed." Her lips parted in surprise. "Yeah, embarrassed."

  "But you told me that you'd had one-night stands before."

  He ran a hand through his hair. "I have. Not in a long time, though. I'm more discriminating now than I was fifteen years ago." His eyes flickered back to her. "I've had casual, short-term affairs, but until last Christmas Eve I'd never been swept up so completely. What happened between us was so … chemical I couldn't put a name to it. It scared the hell out of me. I didn't want to apologize for it, and I couldn't tell you how I felt about it, because I didn't know, so it seemed better just to ignore it."

  "I see."

  "No, I don't think you do." He sat down on the opposite armrest. "My first impression of you was that you were gorgeous. Articulate. Fun. You seemed to have everything in your life right where you wanted it. Nothing was out of sync. You were enjoying phenomenal success in your career. There was Guy, although at the time I didn't know what a drip my competition was. I pictured the man you were seeing as having Mel Gibson's face, Bruce Jenner's body, and Sam Shepard's intellect."

  She laughed. "It's funny now, but it wasn't then," he said sincerely. "There didn't seem to be a single vacancy in your life that I could fill. You put out no distress signals. You came across as a really put-together lady. I guess I was scared of being rejected if I called you."

  Ria assimilated everything that he'd said, but it still didn't hang right, like a drape with one hook missing. "You were angry when I first told you about the baby, Taylor. Why?"

  "Because it had taken that to get us together again. When you first called my secretary and asked for an appointment, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I got myself all worked up for an invitation to dinner. Instead you were strictly business, and about as approachable as a porcupine."

  "That was a defense mechanism."

  "I didn't know that then." He stood up and moved toward her. Cradling her face between his hands, he asked, "Why didn't you ask me to stay on Christmas morning, Ria?"

  "For the same reasons you didn't call me," she said huskily. "I was embarrassed, ashamed of myself, actu
ally. I had never had a one-night stand. I knew you were seeing another woman regularly. And remember, I woke up to find you tiptoeing out. I thought that you had gotten what you came for and were making a quick getaway to spare yourself a scene."

  He bent down and kissed her softly. "No, Ria. If you had invited me to stay for breakfast, I never would have left."

  She gazed up at him with perplexity. "Truly?"

  He nodded. "It seems that we wasted a lot of precious time being cautious, doesn't it?" He straightened up and consulted his wristwatch. "Speaking of time, I've got a meeting with the city council to go over the budget in fifteen minutes."

  "Then you'd better hurry." She walked him to the door. "This is your first day in office. You mustn't be late."

  "Sure everything is okay?"

  She aimed her finger at the door. "Go!" He kissed her swiftly before he left. Ria closed the door behind him, pressing her forehead against the cool wood. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Damn." She wiped it away impatiently. "What's the matter with me?"

  Figuratively, she rolled up her shirtsleeves and went to work. But she found that she couldn't concentrate on the house plans spread out on her drawing board. Her mind was on her marriage. Taylor seemed to take for granted that everything was hunky-dory. And it was. They were compatible. Their sex life was incredible.

  So why was she depressed?

  Because she had wanted him to tell her that he loved her and he hadn't. It was that simple.

  Maybe he was just one of those men who couldn't love.

  But she was a woman to whom love was essential.

  The Lavenders had demonstrated to an unwanted child that the miracle of love could reshape a person's destiny. It was therefore vital to Ria's existence.

  No matter how thrilling every other aspect of her marriage to Taylor was, love was the missing, essential ingredient. Without it the recipe, no matter how tasty, just didn't work.

  They had gone out to dinner and a movie. It was getting late and Taylor was driving slowly. His tuneless humming to the music on the radio was grating on her nerves. Her spirits were as bedraggled as laundry left on a clothesline during a heavy rain. All day she'd conducted a silent debate about what she should do.

  The conclusion she had reached was to leave Taylor before her unreciprocated love for him ate her alive. What she hadn't resolved was the best way to go about it.

  "Where are you going?" she asked. "You said there were some things you wanted to pick up at your house. I thought now was a good time."

  "Oh. Thanks."

  "I've been thinking about this 'your house' and 'my house' business. What do we need two houses for? You were going to add on to yours. Why don't you convert those plans so they can be used for mine? We could add on to it, couldn't we? If you like it, that is."

  "It's a beautiful house," she said unenthusiastically.

  "Or we could sell them both and buy another one, a larger one. What do you think?"

  "I don't know, Taylor." Wearily she put her elbow in the open window and rested her head in her palm. She was worried about how she was going to hold body and soul together when she left him, and he was talking about houses. She'd live in a pup tent with him if he'd say he loved her.

  "Well, think about it."

  "Okay."

  He went back to humming along with the radio.

  When she turned up the volume in a none-too-subtle hint for him to stop, he asked, "Something wrong?"

  "You still can't sing."

  "I wasn't singing. I was humming."

  "You can't hum either."

  "Ouch. Still sulky?"

  "I'm not sulky," she said testily.

  "Could have fooled me. Are you mad because I didn't call you today?"

  "No, I don't expect that kind of constant attention from you."

  "Why not? I'm your husband, aren't I?"

  Her throat constricted with emotion. "Yes, you're my husband."

  "Don't most husbands call their wives at some point during the day just to say hello and ask if they want them to pick up bread and milk on the way home?"

  "Only on Leave It to Beaver."

  "I'm sorry I didn't call and check in. I was very busy today. Had a million errands to run. Things to do. By the way, I stopped at the bank and deposited some money into your checking account. You were getting low."

  She jerked her head around. "How do you know how much money is in my checking account?"

  "I looked at the balance in your checkbook. Why are you getting so riled? I put money in; I didn't take any out."

  "I just wish you had consulted me first."

  "Ah, then maybe I'd better tell you that I took out life-insurance policies on both of us, naming us each other's beneficiaries."

  She stared at him speechlessly. He was digging her in deeper when she was trying to find a graceful way to get out of this marriage.

  But before she could say anything, the Corvette took the corner at an indiscreet speed. As soon as she righted herself, she saw the lights.

  "What in the world?"

  The roof of her house had been outlined in Christmas lights. The front door was framed in multicolored minilights, and a holly wreath with bright red bows was hanging in the center of it.

  "Didn't you take down your Christmas decorations?" he asked, wheeling into the driveway.

  "You know I did. What's going on? Who did this?" She didn't wait for him to open the car door, but sprang out under her own power and ran up the steps to the front door. It wasn't even locked. She went in.

  Despite the warm spring night, a fire was crackling in the fireplace. The mantel had been strung with an evergreen garland, and above it, tall red candles stood like soldiers at attention. They were burning, emanating a bayberry scent. A fully decorated Christmas tree, complete with gift-wrapped presents underneath, stood in the corner where the windows met. It was a freshly cut pine. The pungent fragrance filled the room.

  Mouth agape, Ria whispered, "I don't believe this. Who—"

  Her eyes lighted on her silver-fox coat, which was supposed to be in storage for the summer. Instead it was spread out on the sofa. Warm color rose in her cheeks. She turned around slowly. Taylor was lounging against the doorjamb. His expression was serious, but his eyes were luminous.

  "What you don't believe," he said softly, "is that I love you. I do, Ria." He gently closed the front door. Then, walking slowly, he came toward her and placed his arms around her waist.

  "You did all this?"

  "I told you I'd been very busy today."

  "But—"

  "Why didn't I just tell you I loved you this morning, when you were fishing so subtly? Because you would have thought I was only telling you what you wanted to hear. I thought that if I showed you rather than just told you, you'd be better convinced. Besides, I have a sentimental streak too. I think Christmas represents the ultimate demonstration of love. The idea took hold, and once it did, I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

  She raised her hand to his cheek. Then, repeating his name, stretched up to kiss him. "It was killing me to live with you, make love with you, when I thought it was all one-sided. The deadline for us to stay together passed yesterday. You hadn't said anything about it."

  "I was pretending that there was no deadline."

  "I had decided to leave you."

  "That was what I was afraid of. Not that I'd have let you go. If you'd tried, we'd have had a helluva fight, followed by a helluvan orgy, and you'd have gone on believing that all we have going for us is great sex."

  "And it's not?"

  "What, great? It's mind-boggling."

  "No," she said, laughing when he yanked her close and snarled into her ear. "Is sex all we've got going for us?"

  "Hardly." He gazed down at her and smoothed back her hair. "Our baby brought us together in the first place. Losing it could have finished us, but it didn't. The miscarriage bound us closer together. Until then I didn't really know how much I loved you. Ironically, it was when
I couldn't have you sexually that I really began loving you and thinking of you as my wife."

  He drew her face up to his and kissed her sweetly. Then, wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her with passion. "I love you, Ria," he breathed as they pulled apart.

  "I love you too. Oh, Lord, so much. It broke my heart when you left me Christmas morning."

  "It broke my heart to leave you. This time I'll stay. We'll give it another run-through tonight."

  "On the sofa? On the fur?"

  "Naked. You wearing nothing but firelight and a dreamy expression."

  "You warm and hard."

  "You soft and wet."

  He moved his hands to her breasts; then his lips caressed them through her blouse. Making a yearning sound, she arched her body against his.

  "Hm, sweet," he said. "But before we get to that, you missed the best part."

  "I doubt that," she said, stroking the hard ridge behind his fly.

  "Will you behave?"

  "Why should I?"

  He nodded toward the far corner.

  Turning around, Ria clapped her hands together and laughed with delight. "Oh, how could I have missed that?"

  More miraculous than all the other Christmas paraphernalia was a Nativity scene. There was a wooden stable with a thatched straw roof, and mannequins dressed in period clothes, representing all the principals: Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the Wise Men. There were three life-sized woolly lambs. There was even a manger with a doll lying in it to represent baby Jesus.

  It certainly was a lifelike doll. It moved. And as Ria watched in fascination, it opened its mouth and let out a howl that was definitely human and out of character for anything divine. It was a loud, lusty wail that demanded immediate gratification.

  "Translated, I think that means, 'I've been quiet long enough. Feed me,'" Taylor said from close behind her. He nudged her forward. Ria, entranced, inched toward the manger. Above it, angry red fists were flailing. The swaddling clothes had been kicked aside. Ria looked down at the naked girl child.

  Taylor cleared his throat and apologized for that one, small discrepancy. "I shopped around, of course, but the selection was limited. They were fresh out of boys." He slipped his hands beneath the infant, placing one under her buttocks and the other behind her head, and lifted her out of the cardboard manger. "But I sorta liked this one best anyway. She's got dominant Native American genes. See those cheekbones, that straight black hair? She reminded me of you. And she was kinda lonesome, having no parents who claimed her.