Beth glanced at her watch.
“Why, my dear, I don’t know what you mean. I just wanted you to have a nice dinner while I was gone. And now Matt is here to keep you company so you won’t be alone.” She was preparing to make her exit. An actress was nothing if she didn’t know how to make entrances and exits. Even a retired one. “You could do a great deal worse than have a handsome male looking at you across the table. Believe me.” She winked. “I know.”
Her nerves were not up to this. Maybe Aunt Beth enjoyed these kinds of things, but she didn’t. She wanted nothing more than peace and quiet. “I’m trying to put all that behind me.”
Beth looked pointedly at Rose’s flat stomach. “Some of it, I’m afraid, is ahead of you.” She paused to brush a quick kiss across her niece’s cheek and to squeeze her hand. “It’s going to be all right, Rose. I promise.”
Rose frowned. No, it wasn’t. She knew that, had accepted it. Why couldn’t Beth? “You’re not in a position to make promises like that.”
Beth shook her head. “Sometimes I swear you sound just like your father. Stop it,” she chided playfully before she withdrew from the terrace.
She left Rose standing alone with Cornish game hen, sweet corn in wine sauce, mashed potatoes and a sinking feeling in her stomach. Pressing her lips together, she stared into the flickering flame of the candle closest to her, almost hypnotized.
Could wishes be made on candles that weren’t sitting on top of a birthday cake?
If they could, she knew what she’d wish for. That she’d have a second chance at doing things differently. At doing them right. This time, she wouldn’t get pregnant. That way, her affair with Matt could continue a little longer.
But that seemed to be capriciously out of her control. She wasn’t supposed to have gotten pregnant. Heaven knew she’d taken precautions. She’d gone to her doctor and asked for birth control pills. He’d told her, as he’d written out the prescription, that even the best precautions were not one hundred percent foolproof.
That was her, all right, she thought cynically. A fool. A fool for loving a Carson when she was a Wainwright. A fool for skipping along the edge of a precipice in what was clearly delineated as earthquake country.
And now, she thought, her hand over her stomach, she’d slipped but good and the earthquake was imminent.
But not, she told herself, if she didn’t say anything. It was up to her to prevent this major disaster. And telling her family who the baby’s father was would be setting them all up for one hell of a disaster.
As would telling Matt that she was pregnant with his baby.
Which was why she needed him out of here as quickly as possible. That meant no romantic, candle-lit dinners, no contact, no nothing. The longer he was here, the greater her risk of breaking down and telling him about the baby.
As much as she didn’t want to marry Matt just to give the baby a name, she knew that her heart would be irreparably broken if he didn’t even make the offer. And there was no guarantee that he would. They’d never talked about marriage, never even hinted at it. It was a subject they’d both mutely agreed was closed to them. Theirs had been a purely, intensely physical relationship.
It was supposed to have been without strings.
But now a string threatened to hang them both.
“Wow.”
Rose swung around, the sound of Matt’s voice taking her heart prisoner.
But he was looking at the table, not her. Despite the situation, it made her smile. He’d always had a weakness for good food.
Stepping up to the table, he pulled out a chair and held it for Rose, waiting. She had no choice but to sit. “Your aunt always eats like this?”
It was a meal. One meal. How bad could it be? And she was hungry. Rose spread the napkin on her lap, avoiding looking at Matt. “Tonight she’s not eating at all.”
Beth had said as much to him, stopping by his room before she’d left. He continued to play dumb. “I noticed the two settings. Then it’s just you and me?”
Her appetite suddenly fled. “You go ahead, I’m not hungry.”
Fork already in hand, Matt put it down. “I’m not about to eat all this by myself. I’m hungry, but I’m not a pig.” He saw the grin slip over her lips. It warmed his heart to see it again. He’d forgotten just how much it could light up everything around her, including him. “What?”
She poured dressing on her salad, just to have something to do with her hands. “Just remembering the time you ate everything but the basket when we went on that picnic.” She raised her eyes to his. “Your appetite was incredible.”
His eyes skimmed over her. He hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone so much in such a short period of time. “Yeah, I remember.”
Rose felt a blush creeping up her neck, coloring her cheeks. “I was talking about the food.”
“That, too.”
For form sake, and because he was hungry, Matt tried to concentrate on the meal in front of him and to just make small talk. He was successful for about fifteen minutes, then, unable to avoid the question that had been nagging at him throughout the meal, he pushed aside his plate and surprised her by reaching for her hand.
“Why did you end it, Rose?”
Damn, and here she thought he wasn’t going to bring anything up. She shrugged as she pulled away her hand. “I told you, it played itself out.”
“No, it didn’t.” If that was what she was telling herself, then she was lying to both of them. “I can feel it still humming between us,” he insisted. He reached for her hand again. “Chemistry.”
She pulled her hand away at the last moment. The look in his eyes was so intense, it took effort not to look away. But she tried to make light of it.
“That’s just the weather here. Lots of things hum in the air.”
He didn’t want to pretend anymore, but he couldn’t tell her what he’d discovered was in his heart if she didn’t feel the same way, if she kept denying that there was anything between them. “Can you honestly say you don’t feel anything at all for me?”
I feel everything for you, but it doesn’t change anything. She lifted her shoulders and let them drop carelessly.
“I feel friendship.”
When she looked away, he took her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him again. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Her eyes narrowed and she dug in. “But that’s what I’m talking about.”
He stood, dragging her to her feet with him. “Kiss me.”
That was the last thing in the world she wanted to do. Because she wanted to so much.
Rose tried to move away, but he held her hand fast. “Matt—”
His fingers curled around her, holding her hand to his chest. “Kiss me, and if you don’t feel anything, then I’ll go. A simple test, that’s all.” He searched her face, trying to see if he was making a complete idiot of himself, or if his gut instincts were right after all. “That’s all the condemned man asks, just a simple test.”
Panic sliced through her. If she kissed him, he’d know. “The condemned man is supposed to get a last meal, not a last kiss.”
“We’ve bent a few rules before,” he reminded her, thinking of the affair they’d been drawn into almost against their will. “We can bend them again.”
“Matt—” There was no getting away from it. Rose blew out a breath. She could do this, she told herself. She could pretend, just this once. She would kiss him as if she were kissing her brother. As long as she kept Justin’s image fixed in her head, she could do this. Mentally, she crossed her fingers that she wasn’t making a huge mistake. “All right, just one kiss—and then you’ll go?”
“If you don’t feel anything,” Matt qualified.
Taking another deep breath, Rose steeled herself. She offered her lips up to him as if she were bracing herself to kiss a frog.
Matt slipped his hands along her face, framing it with his powerful, sun-darkened fingers.
Prayin
g, Rose told herself to breathe evenly as his mouth lowered to hers.
Justin, Justin, Justin, she struggled to remember.
It did no good.
Her heart started racing from the moment contact was made. Damn it, why couldn’t she have more control over her own body? She was attempting to prevent World War Three back home—why couldn’t she keep that foremost in her brain?
But it wasn’t her brain that was the problem, it was the rest of her, and the rest of her had missed him something awful. Missed him even as she’d told him goodbye on the back steps of the library. The place had been her choice because it was nice, safe, neutral territory where she felt he couldn’t suddenly vent his anger or, worse, sweep her into his arms and do exactly what he was doing right at this moment.
Melting her in the heat of his kiss.
Damn it, why couldn’t she remember what Justin looked like? She was supposed to be thinking of her brother, not of what it had felt like to make love with Matt.
She had nothing to cling to, nothing to extinguish the fire that was springing up in her loins, nothing to cool the heat that was surrounding her, making her long for what had so recently been hers.
Matt had somehow pulled her into his arms when she wasn’t looking and now it wasn’t just their lips that were touching, but their bodies, too. She could feel his hard contours pressed against her soft, willing curves and all she could think of was the last time they had made love.
All she could long for was the next time.
But there wasn’t going to be a next time. Ever. Why couldn’t she remember that? Why was she betraying herself and everyone who mattered like this? She was supposed to be the strong one. Still waters ran deep and all that.
Still waters—nothing. She was sinking and sinking fast.
He wanted to take her, right here, right now, on this finely covered table amid the dishes of half-consumed chicken and untouched dessert. Rose was the only sustenance he needed or would ever need. He’d been hungry all these days without her and now he desperately wanted to fill himself with the taste, the smell, the touch of her.
She wanted him. Matt knew that, felt that. He had all the proof in the world right here in her lips, in the way her body leaned into his.
She wanted him.
But why was she trying so hard to deny this rare thing they had together? Why was she so bent on resisting him? And why had she run away?
It didn’t make any sense to him.
The hell with sense, with decorum. They were alone together, beneath the stars, twenty stories above an improbably lush park in the heart of the busiest city in the country. He’d heard the front door close, knew that Beth Wainwright wouldn’t be back for hours. She’d assured him of that.
They had time to make love. He had time to convince her that she belonged to him, and he to her.
Fear washed over Rose, chasing away some of the more erotic feelings skewering her. Fear had been summoned by those same erotic feelings. This couldn’t go any further. She was going to lose it at any second and she knew it. Matt had always had this power over her, right from the very beginning.
Right from the first time he’d kissed her and stolen any inclination toward resistance she’d had.
Well, it couldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t allow it. She’d grown up a great deal in the last few months, especially the past six weeks. And now those consequences that had once been nebulous ghosts on the horizon had become a solid reality that threatened to come down and smother her.
Desperate to break free before it was too late, Rose wedged her hands against his chest. It took her a second to summon her breath, which had evaporated in the heat of the moment.
“All right,” she declared, “I let you kiss me. Now will you go?”
Matt held her fast, unwilling to let her or the moment go. “You didn’t ‘let’ me, Rose. You wanted me to kiss you.”
She threw herself into the role of the contrary little witch and doubled her fists to beat on him. “You egotistical—”
Releasing her waist, he caught her by her wrists before she made contact. His eyes stopped her far more effectively than his gesture.
“You wanted me to kiss you,” he repeated, “almost as much as I wanted to kiss you. Why don’t you just stop playing these games and come back with me to Mission Creek?”
With all her heart, she wanted nothing more.
Didn’t he see how hopeless all this was? Even without the baby to complicate things. “So I can do what? Meet you in out-of-the-way places and steal a few minutes together?”
He didn’t want things to change. They’d been so good. “What’s wrong with that?”
With a sudden jerk, she pulled away her hands. “Everything. Look, that kiss proved nothing except that I’m physically attracted to you. I’m attracted to chocolate, too, but if I give in to it too much, I break out. So I keep consumption down to a minimum.”
He tried to make sense out of what she was saying and came up short. “So you’re telling me what? You want to see other men?”
She latched on to the excuse. Anything to keep him from taking her into his arms and kissing her again. Because this time she wasn’t coming out again. “Yes, tons and tons of other men. Now will you go?”
He bought himself some time. “No.”
“No?”
He sat again at the table, this time to cold chicken. “I’ve still got a vacation to spend. And you’re still my guide.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “But I just told you—”
“I know what you told me and I respect that you want to see other men. I can understand that.” Each word drove a knife through his heart, but he pretended otherwise. “There was no commitment to see each other exclusively,” he reminded her.
He didn’t love her, she realized with a piercing pain in her heart. It was his pride that was hurt, his pride that had made him follow her, nothing more. And since he now had proof that she was still attracted to him, that was all he wanted.
The big, dumb jerk.
To keep up the charade and keep from telling her what was in his heart, he started to eat the dessert, not even certain exactly what it was he was consuming.
“You know, you really should have some of this. It’s delicious.”
She fought the urge to take the pie and shove it in his face. “No thanks, I lost my appetite.”
With that, she left the terrace. Before he could see her cry.
Five
Tired, Beth still paused to press her ear against the door of her apartment before putting the key into the lock.
Frowning, she remembered that it was a fire door and as such, she wouldn’t be able to hear anything going on on the other side—if there was something going on on the other side.
She’d finished teaching her class hours ago. Rather than go home, she’d gone out for cappuccino with several of her students afterward. There’d been a time, she fondly recalled, when she would have stayed out until the wee hours of the morning, partaking of something a great deal stronger than coffee. But sadly, she mused, everyone had to make concessions to age, even she.
Once the students had started to drift away, saying something about having to get up early for class or work the next morning, she had opted to do a little romantic research and taken a ride around the park in one of the horse-drawn carriages.
It was just as lovely as she remembered it. The last time she’d been on a carriage ride around the park, it had been with her last husband, Edward.
The best of the lot had been last, she’d mused, sentimentality getting the better of her. He’d been a keeper. Had he not died of a heart attack, she knew they’d still be married.
She could wish her niece nothing better than to have a love like the one she’d finally found with Edward.
Rose had it right under her nose, Beth thought. That Carson boy had a great deal of potential. She could tell just by looking at him. By what she saw in his eyes. It was true, they were windows to the so
ul.
She wasn’t about to allow something as idiotic as an ancient feud ruin it for Rose, or him, either. She’d taken an instant liking to Matt. But that might have been because he reminded her a little of her last husband.
Beth sighed as she put her key into the lock. Turning it ever so slowly, she cracked the door open just a little.
Nothing.
Still exercising caution and discretion, Beth opened the door a little more until she could finally manage to slip through. Tiptoeing in, she looked around, hoping to see clothes strewn around, littering the floor all the way from the terrace to Rose’s bedroom.
There was no litter, no clothes. Everything was as neat as she’d left it.
Battling disappointment, Beth marched out to the terrace and found that the candles had been blown out and only one of the plates looked as if it had been eaten from. The other had a salad that had obviously been toyed with, but never seriously entertained.
That would be Rose’s, she concluded.
Beth sighed. Candlelight, moonlight and music and still nothing. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Crossing back into the living room, she closed the French doors leading to the terrace behind her. The people from Claude’s would be by in the morning to clean up and take the dishes. She was far more concerned with the state of things within her apartment than what was left out on the terrace.
Were they up? Holed up in their separate rooms looking longingly at the wall that divided them? She could just envision them, too stubborn to make a move, sick with love for each other.
It was a scene worthy of a play. Maybe she’d tackle it someday. Right now, she had to tackle the protagonists of her would-be drama and make them see the light.
Beth caught her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling as she debated which of the two to talk to tonight. Or if she should exercise restraint and just let things go until morning.
Letting things go had never been her way, but she wasn’t entirely governed by her emotions. She knew the danger of pushing too much, too hard.
Her debate was abruptly aborted by the sound of a door being opened down the hallway.
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