The Baby Deal

by Pade, Victoria

  But still, he reacted to the irritation he was feeling rather than to the logic of it all. “Well, you know I'll be there. You've all made sure of that. So if that's it, I really should get back to Delia.”

  “That's it,” Jack confirmed.

  This time it was David's hand that reached out to take Andrew's arm and halt his retreat. “Make the best of this, Andy,” he said. “You won't be sorry.”

  Delia had come into Andrew's sight just then and seeing her helped to smooth the inexplicable rough edges that had developed during his talk with his family.

  So instead of saying anything to his uncle's words of wisdom, he merely nodded as if he were taking the advice to heart before excusing himself and heading for his wife of two hours.

  It was after twelve that night when Delia closed the door on the last wedding guest. Andrew was standing right behind her and once the lock was securely in place he proved just how close behind her he was by reaching over her head to brace his weight on his hands as if to prevent the door from opening again to let anyone else in.

  Delia could have slipped out from under the archway his body provided but she just wearily dropped her forehead to the carved oak instead.

  Andrew kissed the back of her neck, left fair game because her hair was caught up and away from it in a classic French knot.

  Then he said, “When my uncle offered to have the wedding at his apartment I turned him down because I thought it would be nice to be married here, in the house that means family to you. It didn't occur to me that that meant we wouldn't be able to slip away when we wanted to.”

  Delia laughed. “Not only the bride and groom, but the hosts, too. Still, it was nice to have it here.”

  She used what little space was between them to turn around so that her back was to the door and she could look up at him. “Hi,” she said as if this were the first time she'd had the opportunity to greet him.

  He dipped down to place a miniscule kiss on her lips before answering. “Hi.”

  Another kiss sent a wisp of warmth through Delia before Andrew raised up and peered into her eyes. “I didn't even get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look.”

  Delia smiled. She'd fallen in love with her dress the moment she'd seen it at the bridal shop—it was an ankle—length white satin A-line with a lace overlay that reached higher than the sweatheart-shaped bodice that ended just above her breasts, giving a peek-a-boo effect before the lace made a scalloped, off-the-shoulder neckline itself. But she was pleased to know that Andrew liked it, too.

  “Your expression brightened up so much when you first saw me I sort of got the idea,” she demurred anyway.

  “One look at you—the antidote for wedding jitters.”

  He kissed her once more.

  “Did you have wedding jitters?” she asked when that kiss that lasted only slightly longer ended.

  “Didn't you?”

  She smiled again. “Some,” she confessed, unwilling to tell him that she'd been awake the entire night before, hoping she wasn't making a mistake and that this would work for him, for her, and for their baby. But the most she would add as an explanation for her own admission of nerves was, “This has all happened pretty fast.”

  “And yet somethings haven't happened fast enough,” he countered with a voice full of innuendo. “At least not fast enough the second time…”

  That was true enough. After turning her on that night in the nursery and every night they'd been together all week, Andrew had still left her unsatisfied. And with all those pent-up desires just below the surface, Delia took her hands from where they'd been behind her since she'd turned to face him and used them to loosen his tie.

  “You were the one who gave the ultimatum, not me,” she reminded. “Not until you marry me—I believe those were your exact words. And all this last week, you said you wanted to wait. So we waited.”

  This time it was Andrew who smiled. A wickedly sexy smile that let her know the wait was over. “I was just too afraid that if you got what you were after from me I'd never get you in front of the judge tonight.”

  Delia took a deep breath and sighed it out resignedly. “True, you might not have,” she deadpanned, unfastening his collar button. “I did only agree to this for one reason.”

  “I knew it!”

  “I'm sorry you had to find out this way.”

  “With you undressing me?”

  She had unbuttoned his shirt to the middle of his chest.

  “Shall I do them up again?” she asked.

  “I wasn't complaining,” he whispered in her ear, turning up the heat in her another notch with his breath against her skin.

  She undid two more of his buttons.

  “You looked pretty fantastic yourself tonight,” she told him as she did.

  Andrew bent low enough to kiss first one of her bare shoulders and then the other.

  “So you approved?” he inquired.

  “Mmm. Very much,” she breathed, leading with her chin to place a kiss underneath his. “Even Kyle and Janine commented on the difference between how you looked tonight and in your beachwear in Tahiti.”

  Delia's brother, sister-in-law and nephew had flown in for the wedding so that Kyle could give Delia away.

  “Little did they know that under these pants I'm wearing bright orange tiger-striped Speedos.”

  Delia laughed yet again. “Liar. You didn't even wear Speedos in Tahiti.”

  “Maybe you should check to be sure,” he suggested lasciviously as he traced the edge of her scalloped neckline with his nose and sent tiny shivers all through her.

  “You want me to take off your pants in the entryway?” she demanded as if the idea scandalized her.

  Andrew mimicked her earlier sigh. “I suppose there are more appropriate places.”

  “Like the beach.”

  He took a turn at laughing, too.

  Then he kissed her again, this time with his mouth open wide, his tongue running rampantly in to meet hers, and with no doubt left that he'd spent this last week struggling with celibacy as much as she had.

  When he ended the kiss, though, he did a push-up off the door and took one of her hands to tug her away from it, too. “No beaches near enough tonight,” he decreed, using his free hand to flip off the lights from the main panel near the door. “I guess we'll have to use the bedroom.”

  “Novel idea,” Delia said as he led her up the stairs.

  She couldn't resist peeking at his terrific derriere along the way. He really had looked remarkable tonight and watching him even from a distance when he wasn't by her side had only made Delia wish they could have started their wedding night earlier. Because of all the things she worried about, a lack of attraction to him was not one of them.

  Her bedroom was lit by candles on either side of the bed when they arrived there—something Delia had no doubt her sister had done before leaving shortly before.

  “Marta,” she said in answer to the quizzical glance Andrew shot to her when he saw them.

  But that was the last bit of attention he paid to the lighting, taking Delia to the foot of the queen-sized bed that had also been turned down for them, facing her at the same time he pulled her nearer and kissed her again.

  A bedroom kiss. Different than those in the entryway. Different than any they'd indulged in during the week leading up to this moment. His mouth came to hers with an instant passion, open and seeking, hungry and bold.

  Not that Delia had any reservations herself. She'd imagined having him here in her room all week. She'd fantasized. She'd relived that night they'd shared on the Tahitian beach. But that kiss was still mind-bending.

  Her head fell far back to accommodate it. His tongue did wickedly delicious things to her tongue, to the roof of her mouth, to every inch he could reach, convincing her that there was some merit to a man who had had as much experience as he'd had.

  When he released her hand to wrap his arms around her, she found his shirtfront and tugged the tails from his trouse
rs so she could finish the job she'd started.

  Then, feeling a surprising lack of inhibition, she slipped her hands inside, to his flat stomach. She let her palms ride the rippling muscles of his washboard abs, upward to curve over his honed pectorals, rising to his expansive shoulders where she slid all the way over them and then down his biceps to shed him of shirt, tie and jacket at once, not caring that the finely made clothing landed on the floor behind him.

  Then she kicked off her shoes and let herself have a moment of nothing but that kiss, the feel of his naked back beneath her hands, and his fingers working free the twelve tiny pearl buttons that traveled the length of her spine.

  She thought it would take him longer than it did to get all the buttons open. Or maybe she was just so lost in his mouth over hers, in the tightening of her nipples in response to it, that she lost track. But suddenly she felt her dress loosen and Andrew slipping it off.

  The bodice had a built-in bra and without the gown, Delia was left in only lace bikini pants and thigh-high nylons. And she wasn't about to be the only one of them that exposed. Especially not when she wanted Andrew equally rid of barriers. So as his hands massaged her back in a preview of what was to come, she went right for his waistband.

  It made her smile to discover just how much he wanted her. In fact he was straining behind his zipper to such an extent that she had only to unfasten the hook at the top of it and that long, hard evidence did the rest of the work. From there it required only a nudge to send his pants to join the rest of his clothes.

  Delia broke off their kiss to grin at him. “Am I mistaken or are there no Speedos?” she asked without glancing downward. Even though she wanted to.

  Andrew grinned back at her. “Okay, so they're just boxers,” he confessed. He began to trail kisses along the side of her neck. To her shoulder. Finding her breast even before the hand she'd anticipated, and sending a shockwave of pleasure through her as he divested himself of his own shoes and spun her around to ease her to the mattress.

  Then he was gone.

  Well, not actually gone, just not touching her or kissing her or doing any of those wonders with his mouth at her breast.

  Instead he was standing above her, looking down at her as if he were absorbing every inch of her with his dark eyes.

  Delia might have felt more self-conscious, but she was too enthralled by the sight he presented—magnificence personified in a body better than she'd even remembered, muscular, dynamic, perfectly proportioned.

  His handsome face erupted into an appreciative smile and with his eyes holding hers, he rolled down her hose and followed them with her panties as Delia reached up to pull the pins from her hair and shake it free.

  And then he was on the bed with her, partially beside her, partially on top of her, and it was as if everything broke free at once.

  His hands and mouth were everywhere and so were hers. And between the fact that Delia had had no idea how alcohol-numbed she'd been that night in Tahiti, and the fact that hormones had apparently raised all her nerve endings closer to the surface of her skin, an entirely new array of sensations awaited her.

  Every stroke of his fingers was intensified. Every kneading, sucking, flicking of her nipples was almost enough to send her right over the edge all by themselves. Every kiss, every trail of the tip of his tongue was a miracle unto itself.

  It wasn't only what he was doing to her that took her step by step higher up the stairway of desire. The warmth and tautness of his skin was like French silk over steel, elevating her need to feel all the more of him. The bulge of each muscle was something to be explored, learned, reveled in. The tightness of each tendon, the power in each sinew, took her another step higher, inching toward what they were both striving for.

  And the feel of that shaft when she reached for him, when she sheathed him in her hand, the sound of the deep, guttural groan that rumbled in his throat, the writhing he did in response, were all more heady than any martini she'd ever consumed.

  Then, just when she needed it most, he was above her again, this time on the mattress, between her thighs, pulling her legs to wrap around his waist as he found his way inside her. Carefully. Gently insistent. Until he was embedded within her.

  Slowly at first, they moved together. Rhythmically. As if they really were back on the beach, mimicking and maintaining the motion of the waves. Until bodies and needs demanded more, and Andrew began a quicker pace, a race up what remained of those stairs.

  Delia kept up, her fingers digging into shoulder blades that seemed more than able to take it, meeting him and matching him, striving for that peak that came closer and closer and closer…

  And then like heavy drapes thrown wide over a window at the top of the stairs, bright, brilliant sunshine flooded her and Delia reached the ultimate crest. She couldn't move with Andrew any longer, she could only cling to him as her body, her entire being succumbed to pure, exquisite ecstasy that held her in its velvet grip for one timeless moment of splendor.

  Gliding down from that pinnacle when it had spent itself she discovered Andrew in the ending throes of his own climax. She felt him shudder slightly before he stiffened above her, within her. Like a glorious work of art, there he was, tensed and frozen for a moment of his own bliss.

  When it had passed he also began the descent. It was as if the starch were being drained out of his muscles by slow increments. His hands were on either side of her head, his arms stretched straight, and as he relaxed he lowered himself to her, covering her with the welcome weight of his body melding itself to hers.

  Then he pulsed inside her and reared up only enough so that he could kiss her forehead.

  “Are you… Is everything okay? I swore I was going to be more in control just in case, but—”

  “Everything is great,” Delia assured him, laughing lightly at his concern.

  He seemed relieved—and satisfied—because his supple mouth stretched into a cocky, lopsided grin before he dipped down to kiss her mouth.

  Then he slipped out of her and rolled to his back, bringing her to lie at his side, wrapping her tightly in both arms to bring her close.

  “So this marriage thing? Using a bed rather than a beach? Not so bad?” he asked.

  “Not so bad,” Delia confirmed as many, many things caught up with her and exhaustion began to take its turn. “What do you think?” she managed to ask.

  “Better than not so bad,” he said as if he meant it, sounding as worn out as she felt.

  Too worn out to say more because Delia heard him exhale as fatigue overtook him, too.

  She didn't have anything left herself to fight it, so after glancing one more time at the wedding ring on her finger, at her hand resting on her new husband's chest, she closed her eyes.

  Drifting off to sleep with a warm, wonderful sense of security that she hoped would last forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I'm on my way, Jack.”

  Andrew was rushing around the kitchen, trying to find his car keys when his cell phone rang. He and Delia had just said a lingering goodbye before she left for work and when the cell phone's display told him in advance that his caller was his brother, that was how he answered it, figuring Jack was annoyed that he was late.

  “Tell me what day this is, Andrew,” Jack ordered, his own temper clearly on the verge of erupting.

  “Uh, I believe it's Thursday,” Andrew said facetiously, peeved that his brother was being such a stickler. Again.

  “Now tell me why it was important for you to get in here on time.”

  “Well, let's see,” Andrew mused as he gave up on finding his keys in the kitchen and moved into the living room to continue the search, drawing a blank as to what his brother was alluding to. “The reading of Dad's will is tomorrow, so that can't be why it was important for me to be there at the crack of dawn today. Was I supposed to bring breakfast or something?”

  He heard his brother draw in an enraged breath and breathe it out through nostrils he imagined flar
ing.

  “Right—tomorrow is the will reading,” Jack said through what sounded like gritted teeth. “But today—Thursday—was the meeting with the Geltrace Chewing Gum people. The meeting that was to close the deal for us to do their advertising. The deal you were supposed to be here to close.”

  Andrew paused in scanning the living room to take his phone away from his face, throw his head back and mutter an expletive to the ceiling.

  Then he brought his head down, put the phone back to his ear and started flinging sofa cushions out of the way in hopes that his keys had fallen from his pocket and lodged there.

  “I forgot,” he confessed. Because at that point, what else was he going to do but admit it.

  “You forgot,” Jack repeated.

  “I've had other things on my mind, other things needing my attention.” He didn't want to give details because the distractions all involved Delia and the fact that they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other since the wedding on Saturday night. They'd both been leaving work early every day this week, spending most of their time in bed, and still hadn't been able to forfeit morning lovemaking in order to get to work on time each morning. Including this one.

  But his brother didn't seem to care what his reason for missing the meeting had been, because from the minute he'd said that he'd had other things on his mind, Jack had been reading him the riot act.

  And even though Andrew was only half paying attention, it was enough to make him angry. He was getting more and more sick of his brother as his boss.

  Cutting Jack off, he said, “What happened with the gum guys? Did they walk or did you close the deal?”

  “I shouldn't have had to close the deal. It was your deal. And David and I both had to dance around the client's doubts about just how trustworthy we are. Do you have any idea what it does to client relations when they show up, get led to a conference room and then have to sit on their thumbs waiting for the one person who's handling their account? Do you have any idea how David and I looked assuring them that you'd be here any minute and then finding out that the assistant we'd sent to try to reach you couldn't even get you on the phone? And why the hell couldn't we get you on the phone?”