by Linda Turner
Joe hoped so, but he wasn’t holding his breath. “Can I stay with her awhile?”
“A half hour now and another half hour tonight,” the doctor replied. “I’m sorry, Joe, but it’s the only way she’s going to get some rest.” Glancing at her watch, she smiled. “Why don’t you go on up to the fourth floor? She should be in her room by now. Someone at the nurses’ station will tell you which one.”
She was lying in bed, trying to keep her eyes open, when Joe finally found her room and walked in. She was still pale, but the color was starting to seep back into her cheeks, and the panic had faded from her eyes. When she smiled sleepily at the sight of him, he felt his heart expand like it had taken a breath.
Crossing to the bed, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Hi, sleepyhead,” he said huskily. “The doc said I could stay for a little while, but you look like you’re out on your feet.”
He started to pull his hand back, but she stopped him simply by tightening her fingers around his. Her heavy eyelids drifting down, she murmured, “Don’t go yet. I want to know what Dr. Sawyer said. Just let me rest my eyes for a moment.”
“Rest them as long as you want, sweetheart. That’s why you’re in here. To rest and take it easy.” His hand still held in hers, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat down to wait for her to open her eyes again. But her breathing slowed, the grip of her fingers relaxed, and he suddenly realized that she was asleep.
He should have left then, but he stayed the full thirty minutes, sitting by her bed, holding her hand while she slept. A nurse peeked in once, then left them alone, and still he sat there. He could have lost her. And the baby. All this time, he’d thought he was doing so well keeping his heart on a leash. Determined not to let himself care too much until he knew who the baby’s father was, he would have sworn that the concern he’d felt was nothing more than what he would have felt for any other unborn child. He’d been wrong.
Chapter 10
“I’m going to let her go home,” Dr. Sawyer told him the next morning when she caught up with him right outside Annie’s hospital room. “Her blood pressure’s much better, but she’s not out of the woods. She just can’t take any more stress.”
“I know,” Joe said, guilt stabbing him. He should never have let her stand around talking to people yesterday. She hadn’t had enough time to recover from the long drive from the mountains, let alone the nightmare at the Driscoe Ranch. When he’d walked into the restaurant and seen the crowd waiting for them, he should have thanked everyone for coming, then insisted that Annie get the nap she needed. That wouldn’t happen again.
“I’m going to unplug the phone and TV and discontinue the paper for a while,” he promised. “I should have done it already, but it all happened so fast.”
The doctor nodded approvingly. “Good, but you can’t stop there. I’m talking no arguments, no discussions that’ll push her blood pressure up or start her stomach churning, no situations that’ll strain her already frazzled nerves. If she’s going to carry the baby to term and deliver it safely, she has to be kept happy and calm. So if you’re having any marital problems,” she warned sternly, “you’re going to have to wait until both Annie and the baby are out of danger to work them out. Do I make myself clear?”
Joe nodded. “Perfectly. But just for the record, the only problem we’re having right now is Annie’s memory. It’s coming back in bits and pieces, and none of it’s been pleasant for her.”
“No, I don’t imagine it has,” Elizabeth Sawyer said sympathetically. “But knowing you’re there for her has to be a comfort to her. Just stay close, Joe.”
He planned to do just that, but as he stepped into her room as she was finishing her breakfast, Annie’s lost memories chafed him more than she could possibly know. She looked up at him with a bright smile of welcome and all he could think about was taking her in his arms and telling her everything. She needed to know about the argument that they had had the night before she’d left him, how much he’d regretted it ever since. They’d both been unhappy and upset and the situation had just blown up in their faces. He needed to tell her that he hadn’t meant any of it, and if he could go back and unsay the words, he would, in a heartbeat. She might not remember any of it, but he did, and the things they’d said were festering like a boil under the skin. Until they could discuss it and clear the air between them, they were never going to be able to put the past behind them and go on with their marriage.
But he couldn’t tell her that. Frustrated, wishing he could whisk her back to the cabin and have her all to himself again, he could do nothing but growl, “Good morning, Mrs. Taylor,” then lean down and brush a tender kiss across her mouth.
He’d meant to keep it light and teasing, just a playful nip that would make her laugh and her eyes sparkle. But the second his lips touched hers, he felt her start of surprise, the way her breath hitched in her throat and her mouth opened shyly to his, and the desire that was never far from the surface whenever she was near flooded through him in a hot rush. With a murmur of pleasure, he gathered her close and kissed her with a sweet tenderness that left them both weak with need.
Her heart thundering a thousand beats a second, Annie stared up at him with dazed eyes as he slowly, reluctantly, raised his head. “Well,” she laughed shakily, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you missed me. That was some kiss, Mr. Taylor.”
Trailing a finger over the blush stealing into her cheek, he drawled, “I aim to please, Mrs. Taylor. How’s my favorite wife this morning?”
“Excuse me, but did you say your favorite wife?” Her blue eyes, bright with mischief, sparkled up at him. “I know I’ve forgotten a lot of things, but surely I would have remembered if you were a bigamist.”
He chuckled, grinning. “No, I haven’t been holding out on you—you’re the one and only Mrs. in my life. So how are you and that baby of mine feeling? Dr. Sawyer said you had a good night.”
Caught off guard, she blinked, sure she must have misunderstood him. But his steady gaze met hers head-on, and there was no doubt that he’d just claimed the baby as his. Confused, she stared up at him searchingly. “We did. I did. But Joe, I still don’t know who the baby’s father is. Did Dr. Sawyer say something that led you to believe—”
“Shh.” He cut her off simply by pressing his fingers gently to her lips. “We didn’t even discuss the baby’s paternity, sweetheart. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing to discuss. The baby’s mine.”
He meant it. She looked in his eyes and felt as if he’d reached right inside her and touched her heart. He really didn’t care if she remembered later that someone else had fathered her baby—he was claiming it as his. He would love it and care for it and give it his name, no questions asked.
“Oh, Joe.”
She started to cry, she couldn’t help it, but before she could do much more than sniff, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, gave her a quick kiss, then straightened, grinning, and presented her with a sack he’d been hiding behind his back. “No tears, honey—you’ll get your new clothes all wet. And then what will you wear home?”
Distracted, she glanced down at the plastic shopping bag he’d shoved into her hands, then back up again to where he stood watching her expectantly. “You bought me clothes? Maternity clothes?”
“Well, I could hardly let you parade around town with your jeans unsnapped, could I?” he teased.
“But it’s barely nine o’clock in the morning. How—”
“I went shopping after I left here last night,” he explained. “The maternity shop in the mall was already closing, but when I told the lady I needed to buy you a complete wardrobe, she opened right up. I hope I got the right size.”
He’d bought her a red corduroy jumper and a long-sleeved white cotton blouse that she could also wear with pants, and she loved them on sight. Rushing into the bathroom to try them on, she emerged a few minutes later, dressed in her new clothes and barefooted, a pretty blush tinging her cheeks
and a smile stretching from ear to ear.
Spreading her arms wide, she twirled in front of him. “What do you think? Is it me?”
Joe took one look and felt the punch of desire all the way to his toes. She gave the old saying barefoot and pregnant a whole new meaning. There was nothing the least bit fancy or seductive about the outfit, but somehow, she made it look like silk. He’d always liked her best in red, and that hadn’t changed. With her dark hair and creamy complexion, her skin took on a rosy glow and her eyes a sparkle that was bewitchingly lovely. She looked the way she had when they were first married…happy and carefree and in love…and all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and carry her home to bed.
But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t She needed to rest, and that’s the last thing he would let her do if he got his hands on her anytime soon. “Oh, it’s you, darlin’,” he drawled, grinning. “If I’d known I was going to get a private fashion show, I wouldn’t have had the rest of the stuff delivered to the apartment. Why don’t we go home and you can try it all on for me?”
“Go home?” she echoed, startled. “I can go home?”
“Just as soon as you get your shoes and jacket on and I sign a few forms for insurance. Of course, I guess I could arrange with Dr. Sawyer for you to stay a few more days if you like,” he added teasingly. “You do look more rested—”
“Oh, no, you don’t, Joe Taylor!” she warned as she hurriedly stepped into her loafers and grabbed her jacket from the small closet near the bed. “You’re not leaving me here a second longer than you already have. See? I’m ready. I’ll meet you at the car.”
She didn’t even know where he’d parked, but she was already out the door and heading toward the elevators. Laughing, Joe hurried to catch up with her. “Slow down, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere without me, remember? I’ve got the keys.”
Over the course of the next three days, Joe totally abandoned the restaurant, leaving it and the arrangements for the grand opening of the new one in Drake’s capable hands while he stayed home with Annie and took care of her. Hardly letting her out of bed except to go to the bathroom or lie on the couch with her feet up, he took Dr. Sawyer’s order literally and saw that she rested around the clock and ate like it was going out of style. He cooked tempting dishes for her, all but handfed her, and made sure she cleaned her plate. When she grew tired of lying around reading, he entertained her with funny stories and even brushed her hair for her until she fell asleep. If she’d been the least bit self-centered, she would have been spoiled rotten.
Instead, she was enchanted.
For three days and nights, he made it impossible for her to think of anything but him. He babied her and pampered her, and made her heart sing every time he stepped into the room where she was. And she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. She watched him because she couldn’t help herself, because she longed for the feeling of his arms around her again, because there was no question that she was falling in love with him all over again. And she no longer had the strength to fight it.
By the afternoon of the third day, she only had to look at him to know that it was his baby that she carried. She couldn’t remember its conception or prove anything until she got her memory back or the baby was born, but she knew, she just knew, that it was his child she carried. It had to be. Even if they had been having problems before she’d left him, she couldn’t imagine herself letting any other man touch her, let alone make love to her. Not after loving Joe.
Knowing that she hadn’t been unfaithful to him lifted a load from her shoulders she hadn’t even known was there until it was gone. And just that easily, she was free. Free of the pain of self-doubt, of questioning her own integrity. She still didn’t know why she had left him or what she had done during the two months they were separated, but at least she hadn’t crawled into bed with another man while she still had her husband’s wedding ring on her finger.
She had to tell him, of course. Whether he believed her or not, he had to know that she believed that she’d never turned her back on their marriage vows.
So that night after supper when she insisted on helping him with the dishes, she struggled to find the words. Rinsing dishes for him to load in the dishwasher, she cleared her throat, searching for an easy way to begin, but there wasn’t one. He’d never once mentioned the future or voiced an opinion on whether he thought their marriage had a ghost of a chance after everything that had happened, and she didn’t want him to think that she was bringing up the subject because she expected anything from him. But he had to know that she’d never given him any right not to trust her.
And there was no way to say it but just blurt it out. “I didn’t fool around on you when I was gone, Joe,” she said with quiet confidence, shattering the comfortable silence between them. “There was no other man. The baby really is yours.”
In the process of reaching for the plate she held out to him, he sent her a sharp look. “You remembered something?”
“No,” she said with quiet dignity. “I just know.”
Staring down at her, he wished like hell he could believe her, but unlike her, he remembered every moment of that last month before she’d left him. And they’d only made love once. And while it wasn’t impossible that she could have gotten pregnant then, the chances were slim. And no one regretted that more than he did.
Taking the plate from her, he turned to add it to those already in the dishwasher. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll love it no matter whose it is.”
He meant to reassure her, but when he turned back to her, her eyes were swimming in tears that, even as he watched, spilled over her lashes and slid silently down her face. Alarmed, he reached for her. “What is it, honey? I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I am!” she sniffed. “But I want you to believe me.”
Did she think he didn’t want that, too? In spite of everything that had happened, he still loved her. But love and trust, he was discovering, didn’t necessarily go hand in hand. Once, she could have told him the moon was turning cartwheels in the sky and he would have found a way to believe her, but those days were gone, apparently forever. And no one regretted that more than he did.
“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” he pointed out huskily. “Just that I would love the baby no matter what. I’m trying, Annie. The last couple of weeks haven’t been easy on either one of us, and all we can do is take things slow and give ourselves some time. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”
“I know. It’s just so hard sometimes.” Giving him a watery smile, she dashed impatiently at her wet cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry all over you, but I don’t seem to have any control over it. I guess it’s because I’m pregnant. It’s supposed to make you weepy or something.”
He laughed and gathered her back against his chest. “Are you kidding? Sweetheart, you’ve been able to cry at the least little thing every since I’ve known you. We went to a Super Bowl party at Grant’s house on our first date, and you cried when the Cowboys won—and when the losers congratulated them. You get teary-eyed over ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ for God’s sake! Why do you think I carry a handkerchief with me everywhere we go? Nine times out of ten, you’re going to get sentimental about something before we get home.”
“Stop!” she cried, laughing. “I couldn’t possibly be that bad!”
“Wanna bet? I can have you in tears—and I don’t mean unhappy ones—in about thirty seconds flat, and I don’t even have to turn on a sappy movie to do it.”
“You can not!”
“Watch me,” he growled, and swept her up in his arms.
“Joe! What are you doing? Where are you taking me? Put me down. You don’t have to carry me like I’m some kind of invalid.”
Chuckling, he ignored her and carried her into the living room, where, one by one, he turned out all the lights until only one was left burning. Sinking down onto the couch, he settled her comfortably on his lap. “Now,” he said with a wicked
grin, “watch the clock.”
He just meant to tease her, to nuzzle her neck and tell her how she knocked him out of his shoes with just her smile the first time he laid eyes on her, but she felt so good in his arms, so trusting, that it wasn’t that first meeting he found himself remembering, but the night they’d first made love. His heart did a slow, lazy turn, and suddenly it was vitally important that she remember, too.
With fingers that were suddenly unsteady, he captured her face in his hands and stared down at her with eyes that were dark with emotion. “The first time we made love, you were still a virgin,” he told her in a low, rumbling voice that had turned as deep as the night. “You were so beautiful, so sweet, and I was terrified of hurting you. We’d waited so long, and I wanted it to be perfect for you, but I felt like a raw kid who’d never been alone with a woman before. My hands were shaking,” he admitted ruefully. “Do you remember?”
Mutely she shook her head, and just that easily, he won their bet. Tears welled in her eyes, but he took no joy in the victory. He wanted, needed her to remember. Not just their first time together, but their love. Him, dammit! They’d had something that should have transcended decades, lifetimes, and they’d foolishly let it slip through their fingers. Somehow, they had to get it back.
“Then you smiled at me and kissed me,” he said softly, “and I knew that I’d move heaven and hell before I’d hurt you. If you remember nothing else, remember that, sweetheart.”
A single tear spilled over her lashes. “Oh, Joe, I want to. I want to remember everything!”
“You will, honey. Just give yourself time.”
He kissed her then because he couldn’t help himself, because it seemed like weeks instead of days since he’d held her like this, because he didn’t want to think about the things she might remember that could take her away from him. As long as he was holding her, kissing her, loving her, he couldn’t lose her. Not again.