“Good grief, that’s enough.” Blythe huffed loudly. “See what I’m up against? The man is a walking encyclopedia on pregnancy. He knows more about it than I do!”
Adam looked at Joy, a comical look of suppliance on his face. “I’m going to run over to Court Street Café and pick up some lunch for us. Can you stay and eat with us?”
“My baby-sitter has to leave by twelve-thirty,” Joy said. “I’m afraid I’ll have go home and make myself a sandwich.”
“Well, while I’m gone, how about talking to my wife on my behalf and convincing her I’m acting fairly normal for a first-time, expectant father?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” Adam stared at Blythe, who refused to look his way. “Do you want the grilled shrimp?”
“Yes,” she replied, then turned her back to him. “And get me a piece of their New York cheesecake.”
“That may be a little rich for you, and it’s filled with way too much fat. Maybe you should choose a different—”
Joy cleared her throat loudly. Adam sucked in his breath, and nodded to her, understanding her warning.
“I’ll get us both the cheesecake for dessert,” Adam said and hurried out the front door.
The moment he left, Blythe blew out a loud breath and slumped down on the stool at her work counter behind a decorative wooden-and-cloth screen.
Joy patted Blythe on the back. “He is acting somewhat normal for a first-time father-to-be. Craig was a raving lunatic the whole time I was pregnant. Some men, the ones who really want to be fathers, go a little overboard sometimes. And a take-charge guy like Adam is bound to go about impending fatherhood the way he does everything else in his life.”
“I suppose I’m making a mountain out of a molehill,” Blythe admitted. “It’s just that I’m not accustomed to sharing my life with a man, to having a husband I have to report in to all the time.”
“It works both ways, you know,” Joy said. “Adam isn’t used to making compromises. He always told Craig that he never intended to remarry. Maybe, if you’d consider his side of the situation, you might realize that this marriage-in-name-only is as difficult for him as it is for you.”
“I suppose he’s been complaining to Craig about having to remain celibate.”
“Craig hasn’t mentioned it.” Joy smiled coyly.
“Well, Adam agreed...we both agreed not to have sex with anyone else while we were legally man and wife.”
“And I’m sure Adam will uphold his part of the agreement.” Joy clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But it must be difficult for a man as ... as sexual as Adam to live in the same house with a woman who is his wife and not be allowed to even touch her.”
“He touches me,” Blythe said. “He touches me all the time. He’s always slipping his arm around my waist and patting my stomach.”
Joy grinned. “To be honest, I don’t see how you could live with a guy as fabulous as Adam Wyatt and not take advantage of the opportunity to sleep in his bed every night. After all, he is your husband.”
“Temporarily. Just until after my six-week checkup. That’s when we’ll make plans to see the lawyer.”
“A lot can happen between now and then.”
“What do you mean by that?” Narrowing her eyes to slits, Blythe stared quizzically at Joy.
“Maybe you and Adam will work out your differences and discover that neither of you has to drastically change in order for the two of you to be compatible.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“What are you so afraid of?” Joy asked.
“I’m not afraid of any—”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m your best friend. I know you. Remember?”
“I’m not going to fall in love with Adam.” Blythe’s voice was a mere whisper.
“Oh, I see. So that’s what you’re afraid of, huh?” Grasping Blythe’s shoulders, Joy tenderly massaged her tense muscles. “Falling in love isn’t something we can control. It just happens. That’s why they call it falling. It’s like an accident we can’t prevent. Just look at Craig and me. I swore I’d never marry some sophisticated smooth talker who came from the same background I did. You know how I always dated the bad boys in school, just to give my father heart failure.”
Blythe laughed. “Oh, Lord, do I ever remember. We were always attracted to different types, weren’t we? You wanted a Mr. Macho Stud and I wanted a—”
“A guy who was the exact opposite of your stepfather.”
Sighing, Blythe nodded. “You know Adam is determined to have a wedding reception at the country club. The invitations went out last week.”
“We got ours, but I didn’t want to say anything until you mentioned it.”
“Everyone’s going to know why he married me,” Blythe said. “I’ll bet half of Decatur already knows. Adam certainly hasn’t made a secret of it.”
“So, big whoop. All you have to do is stand at Adam’s side and smile. Believe me, if anyone so much as dares to utter a questionable remark, Adam will annihilate them. There are times when it’s kind of nice to have a big, protective man take care of you.”
“You don’t know how much I dread the reception. All of Adam’s rich business friends will be there, and probably a whole horde of his former girlfriends who’ll be trying to figure out why I was lucky enough to snare Adam in the tender trap when none of them could.”
“I’d say the answer is obvious.”
“How’s that?”
“No other woman ever got Adam Wyatt so hot and bothered to make love to her that he completely forgot to use protection.”
Blythe gnawed on her bottom lip. “I wish...”
“What do you wish?”
Blythe had been about to say that she wished she could forget that night, wished she could stop remembering the way she’d felt, the way Adam had made her feel. Just thinking about all the things he’d said and done—the things she’d said and done—created a draining ache inside her.
“I wish Adam would hurry up with our lunch. I’m starving.”
Six
Blythe shifted from one foot to the other, wondering if the reception line had an end or if it would go on forever. She tried to smile when Adam introduced her to yet another business associate and his dowdy middle-aged wife, who surveyed Blythe from head to toe, her gaze resting meaningfully on Blythe’s stomach.
She sucked in her stomach, but it didn’t do any good. Trying to camouflage a thickening waistline and a little round tummy was impossible on a five-foot-two woman who was over four months pregnant.
“So nice to meet you, my dear,” the woman said, lifting her gaze to stare directly into Blythe’s face. “We’d given up hope of Adam ever remarrying. You must be quite special to have snared such a confirmed bachelor. Surely you know how lucky you are.”
Adam slipped his arm around Blythe’s waist and hugged her to his side. “I’ve never known anyone as special as Blythe. And I’m the lucky one, Wylodean, to have this lovely lady as my wife.”
“I agree with you there,” Chester McCorkle said, taking in every inch of Blythe’s petite body with one quick glance. “Hope you two will be as happy as Wylodean and I have been all these years.”
The McCorkles moved on and another couple extended their hands and voiced their best wishes in a cordial greeting.
Blythe’s feet hurt. Adam had suggested she not wear the heels she’d bought to match her new outfit, but she’d insisted. She wanted to look perfect when he put her on display at this reception. How could she look perfect in flats, with her head barely reaching Adam’s shoulder? She knew his friends and associates were all wealthy, important people. She didn’t want to disappoint him when tonight obviously meant so much to him. She felt that she owed him this night, especially after the way he’d been doing his best to make their unholy alliance as easy for her as possible.
She sighed with relief the moment she saw Joy and Craig, and behind them several of her business acquaintanc
es from Decatur’s Downtown Merchants’ Association. Finally, she’d be able to talk to someone she knew.
Joy threw her arms around Blythe. “You look fabulous. You’re the only redhead I know who can wear pink.” Blythe whispered her next statement. “That outfit must have cost a fortune.”
“Adam insisted I spare no expense when I chose something for tonight,” Blythe told her best friend in a hushed tone. “If I’d been showing more, I’d have had to buy a maternity dress.”
“You two are holding up the line,” Craig said. “Come on, Joy. You and Blythe can talk later.”
“Hang in there.” Joy squeezed Blythe’s hand. “And you’re not showing.”
Adam glanced at his wife—his bride of one month—and his chest swelled with pride. Blythe was a lovely, enchanting woman, and never more so than she was tonight, four months pregnant with his child.
And Joy was right about her being able to wear pink quite well, despite her dark, cinnamon hair. The three-piece muted pink outfit she’d chosen made her eyes look greener and her auburn hair a light mahogany. The lace cardigan was sheer and easily revealed the low-cut silk blouse beneath. Adam swallowed. Blythe’s small, pert breasts had enlarged. Every time he looked at her, he wondered in what other ways her breasts had changed.
The full skirt, that subtly hid her tiny, rounded belly was some sort of floral lace and hit her about two inches above her knees, showing off her great legs.
Adam’s body hardened at the thought of those slim legs wrapped around him, holding him close as he moved in and out of her. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. Damn! He had to get his mind off making love to his wife or he’d embarrass them both if he stood there, obviously aroused while greeting their guests.
Adam glanced down the line and sighed with relief when he realized the end was near. Less than a dozen people to go. Thank God. Then he noticed Angela Wright. How the hell did that woman get an invitation? Surely, he hadn’t put her name on the list. He had dated Angela for several months and had decided to call it quits before Missy Simpson’s christening party, but hadn’t gotten around to ending things until afterward. After he’d slept with Blythe. After he’d gotten her pregnant the first time they made love.
Angela hadn’t wanted to end things. She’d been too possessive, too clinging to suit Adam. He’d known all along that she wanted more than he could give her, and that, to her, his most attractive asset was his bank account.
Blythe noticed the ravishing blond in the skintight, bleached-blue-denim-and-lace strapless dress. The daring bustier style lifted and exposed a large portion of her Playmate-of-the-Year-size breasts.
Who was the woman? Blythe wondered. She certainly wasn’t a friend or acquaintance of hers. She must be an old friend of Adam’s. One of his former girlfriends, no doubt!
“Adam, darling!” The statuesque blond threw her arms around Adam, shoving her big, partially uncovered breasts against his chest as she kissed him passionately on the mouth.
Blythe’s stomach did an evil flip-flop, the sensation identical to the one a person gets during the descent of a too fast Ferris wheel. She knotted her hands into tight fists to prevent herself from ripping the blonde off Adam.
Adam tried to push Angela away, but she clung to him, nuzzling the side of his face with her cheek. “Aren’t you the naughty boy, getting married on the sly like you did. And after you swore you’d never marry again.”
Oh, God! Adam closed his eyes and said a quick, silent prayer that Angela wouldn’t make a scene. He wanted tonight to be perfect for Blythe. He had thought he could show her how proud he was to present her to the world as his bride.
“I found a woman who changed my mind,” Adam said, then gave Angela another gentle shove, trying to dislodge himself from her tenacious hold.
“Well, you must introduce us. I’ve been simply dying to meet the woman who reeled you in.” With one arm still laced through Adam’s, Angela turned sharply and glared at Blythe. “Is this her? My goodness, she’s not at all what I expected.”
“Angela...” Adam warned.
“As you can see, Adam’s tastes have changed.” Blythe’s lips curved into her best eat-dirt-and-die smile. “For the better.”
Adam strangled, then coughed several times to clear his throat.
Blythe uncurled her tight fist and extended her hand to Angela. “Since Adam seems to have lost his powers of speech for the moment, let me introduce myself. I’m Adam’s wife, Blythe Elliott Wyatt. And you’re... ?”
Shaking Blythe’s hand, Angela grinned. “I’m a dear old friend of your husband’s.” Angela released Blythe’s hand and tiptoed her fingers up the front of Adam’s white tuxedo shirt. She turned her heated gaze on Blythe. “You sim ply must tell me your secret, sweetie. How did you trap this big guy into marriage when better women have tried and failed?”
Adam’s face turned scarlet. The area within a twelve-foot radius around the reception line went deadly quiet, only the clatter of champagne glasses, the murmurs of the crowd and the upbeat tune the band played could be heard at a distance.
Blythe grabbed Angela’s wrist, jerking her hand away from Adam’s chest. “I suppose I could deny that I trapped him, but I won’t.” Blythe gave the larger woman’s arm a not so gentle yank, removing the blonde from her intimate position against Adam. “And I could say that I tried a trap that had been used successfully time and again, but that’s what you probably did, without success. No, you see I snagged Adam with a brand-new, never-before-used trap...but without his total cooperation, indeed his blind passion, even my virgin trap wouldn’t have caught him.”
Glancing at Adam, who stood with his mouth agape, Angela giggled nervously. “Feisty little thing isn’t she, darling?”
Blythe stepped between her husband and his former girlfriend. Leaning her small body back against Adam, she glared up at Angela. “And she’s possessive and jealous, too,” Blythe said. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t share.”
Angela glanced around at the silent crowd of onlookers. “You certainly don’t mind making a spectacle of yourself and embarrassing Adam in front of his friends, do you?”
Slipping his arms around Blythe, Adam rested his chin on the top of her head. “I’m not the least embarrassed,” he said.
Blythe took a deep breath. She held up her left hand directly in front of Angela’s face. “As long as this ring is on my finger, Adam Wyatt belongs to me. Do you understand?”
“It doesn’t matter whether Angela understands or not, sweetheart,” Adam said. “I understand.”
Angela turned sharply and marched toward the exit, not daring to look back or to respond to the people who spoke to her.
Wylodean McCorkle pranced up to Blythe and Adam, her round, wrinkled face splotched with vivid color. “Well, I never! What a disgraceful show!” She patted a trembling Blythe on the shoulder. “Well done, my dear. I’ve never seen a wife make hash of a troublemaking mistress with such adept ease.” Narrowing her eyes, she zeroed in on Adam. “You’re right. You are the lucky one.”
“Former mistress,” Adam said.
“What?” Wylodean asked.
“I ended my association with Angela before Blythe and I married.”
“And a good thing you did,” Wylodean said.
Blythe suddenly felt light-headed. Of all the problems she had expected to encounter tonight, a one-on-one with Adam’s former mistress had never entered her mind.
She couldn’t seem to stop trembling. And Lord knew how high her blood pressure had shot. She was still trying to figure out exactly why she had publicly laid claim to Adam Wyatt the way she had. Anyone here would think she was madly in love with the man. The truth was that she was just plain mad.
And in her anger, she had practically announced to the world that she’d been a virgin who had trapped Adam into marriage by getting herself pregnant.
Oh, dear Lord!
“Blythe, are you all right?” Joy nudged Wylodean McCorkle out of the way. “I swear, if I’d had
a gun I’d have shot that bitch. But it would take an elephant gun to blow her away.”
Blythe laughed, but the sound came out a hoarse squeak.
“I’m going to be sick,” Blythe said.
“What?” Adam twirled her around to face him. “I thought that morning sickness stuff ended last month.”
“How dare you invite that woman to our wedding reception!” Blythe bit the words out between clenched teeth, her voice a rasping whisper.
“I didn’t-”
“If you ever see that woman again, I’ll.. I’ll...”
Adam grinned. “I promise that—”
“If you even see her out somewhere, you’d better cross the street to avoid her. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly dear, Mrs. Wyatt.”
“Wipe that ridiculous smile off your face, you big baboon!” Blythe burst into tears and ran from the room.
Joy caught up with her inside the ladies’ room. “Are you all right?” Joy wrapped her arms around Blythe.
Blythe sobbed against Joy’s shoulder. “I just made a complete fool of myself out there over a man who doesn’t love me.”
“You did no such thing. You did what any red-blooded American woman would have done. You warned off a scavenger. You let her know you weren’t some little docile wifey who would look the other way.”
“How could he have invited that woman?”
“I don’t think he did,” Joy said. “Angela Wright is the type who’d crash a party.”
Pulling out of Joy’s arms, Blythe wiped her eyes with her fingers and took a deep breath. “Do you know her?”
“I met her a few times when Adam was dating her.”
“How serious was their relationship?” Blythe asked.
“Not any more serious than any other relationship Adam has had since his divorce. Angela was a nice ornament for Adam’s arm and a willing bed partner, but even before Missy’s christening, he’d told Craig he planned to end things with the woman.”
“She really is gorgeous, isn’t she?” Blythe looked in the mirror and groaned when she saw her smeared makeup. “Why would any man settle for this—” she pivoted around slowly, as if on display “—if he could have her?”
The Tender Trap Page 9