Expecting His Baby

by Sandra Field

  He couldn’t mean it; flattery must be his standard practice when he was anywhere near a woman. Nevertheless, Lise flushed to the roots of her hair. “Me? I’m a mess.”

  “Thank you, Judd. That’s considered a more appropriate response.”

  “Maybe in the circles you move in. But I don’t want your compliments, Judd. They’re as useless as your wedding vows.”

  He straightened to his full height. “While we were married, I was never unfaithful to Angeline.”

  “Tell it to someone who cares.”

  “I could make you care,” he said softly.

  Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you daring me, Lise?”

  “No, Judd. I’m telling you I’m out-of-bounds as far as you’re concerned. Off-limits. Uninterested.”

  “We’ll see,” he said with that same dangerous softness. “You’d better move—this kitchen, as you so rightly remarked, isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

  Something in his steady gaze caused her to back up. With as much dignity as she could muster, Lise retreated to the bathroom, where she dragged a brush through her tumbled curls and pulled on a loose sweatshirt over her T-shirt. How to stop feeling sorry for yourself, she thought, poking out her tongue at her reflection. Invite a cougar into your apartment. A starving, highly predatory cougar.

  Uneasily she gazed in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes were shining. Stop it, she told herself. He’s not a knight in shining armor come to rescue you. His breastplate’s tarnished and he abused his vows. Just you remember that.

  Unfortunately he was still the most vibrantly masculine man she’d ever laid eyes on. That hadn’t changed. Sexy didn’t begin to describe him. It went deeper than that to a confidence that was bone-deep, an unconscious aura of power as much a part of him as his thick black hair and deep-set, changeable eyes.

  Why did it have to be his daughter she’d rescued? She didn’t need Judd in her life. He frightened her, she who could force her way through choking smoke and the crackle of flame.

  The vacuum cleaner had been turned off. Steeling herself, Lise went back to the kitchen, said politely, “Thank you,” and reached for the coffee beans, which were in the container marked Flour. But she couldn’t unscrew the lid with one hand.

  Judd said, “Here, let me,” and took it from her. In utter fascination she watched the play of muscles in his wrist as his lean fingers undid the jar. “Where’s the grinder?” he asked.

  This was all so domesticated, she thought wildly. As though they were married. “In the cupboard by the sink. Ignore the muddle.”

  As he opened the cupboard, two cookie sheets clattered to the floor. “You live as dangerously at home as you do at work,” Judd said, and fished out the grinder.

  She blurted, “What’s the favor, Judd?”

  “Coffee first.”

  With bad grace Lise hauled out the pot, shoved in a filter and located mugs, cream and sugar. “You sure like getting your own way.”

  “It’s how you get to the top—knowing what you want and going after it.”

  “Judd Harwood’s Philosophy of Life?”

  Standing very close to her, yet not touching her, Judd said, “You’ve got a problem with that?”

  “What happens to the people you climb over on the way up?”

  “You see me as a real monster, don’t you?” He grabbed the pot, poured water in it and plugged it in. “The favor’s this. Emmy’s having nightmares. About the fire. She wakes up screaming that someone in a mask is coming after her. I thought if she could meet you, it might help.”

  Lise said slowly, “I was wearing an oxygen mask, because of the smoke. And our clothes are very bulky. So I must have looked pretty scary.”

  “Would you come to the house, Lise?” Judd raked his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s asking a lot—using your spare time for something related to work. I just can’t stand hearing her scream like that in the middle of the night.”

  His voice was rough with emotion. And if he was faking that, she was a monkey’s uncle. Knowing she had no choice, knowing simultaneously that she was taking a huge risk, far bigger than when she’d blundered her way to the attic, Lise said, “Yes, I’ll come.”

  “You will?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I wondered.”

  “I’m not a monster, Judd. When do you want me to come—today?”

  “The sooner the better. She gets home from school around three-thirty.”

  “Then I’ll arrive at four.”

  “That’s astonishingly generous of you.”

  His smile filled her with a mixture of feelings she couldn’t possibly have analyzed. She shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not. She’s a child, Judd, and I know about—well, never mind.”

  “Your parents died in a fire, didn’t they?”

  A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I’ve said I’ll come. Don’t push your luck.”

  “I’ll send a car for you.”

  “I’ll get a cab.”

  “Is independence your middle name?”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said mockingly, and reached up in the cupboard for a couple of mugs. But at the same time Judd stepped closer. Her hand brushed his arm, the contact shivering through her. Then, with one finger, he traced her cheekbone to her hairline, tugging gently on a loose red curl, his every movement etched into her skin. “You’re an enigma to me, you know that?” he said huskily.

  He was near enough that she could see the small dark flecks in his irises; his closeness seemed to penetrate all her defences, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in a way she hated. She tried to pull back, but somehow his other arm was around her waist, warm and heavy against her hip. Her heart was hammering in her rib cage, a staccato rhythm that further disoriented her. He drew her closer, his gaze pinioning her. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run. Resting one hand on his chest, Lise tried to push back; but the heat of his body seeped through his cotton shirt, burning her fingers. Heat, the tautness of muscle and bone, and the hard pounding of his heart…she fought for control, for common sense and caution, and all the while was losing herself in the deep pools of his eyes. Then Judd lowered his head and with a thrill of mingled terror and joy Lise knew he was going to kiss her.

  She tried once more to extricate herself, pushing back against his encircling arm. “Judd, don’t,” she gasped. “Please—don’t.”

  His answer was to find her mouth with his own, closing off her words with his lips. And at the first touch Lise was lost, for fantasy had fused with reality, and reality was the passionate warmth of a man’s mouth sealed to her own, seeking her response, demanding it. Her good arm slid up his chest, her fingers burying themselves in the silky dark hair at his nape. Her body swayed into his, soft and pliant. She parted her lips to the urgency of his tongue, welcoming its invasion; he pulled her against his chest as his kiss deepened. Raw hunger blossomed within her, hunger such as she’d never known before. It did away with constraint, made nonsense of caution. Blind with need, she dug her fingers into his scalp and felt the hardness of his erection against her belly.

  The shock rippled through her. She heard him groan her name in between a storm of brief, fierce kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. As though he were exploring her, she thought dimly, as a mariner would explore the inlets, coves and shores of a newly discovered land. Her breasts were soft to his chest, and the turmoil of desire that pervaded her whole body was like a conflagration. She didn’t want to fight it. She wanted to go with it, follow into whatever dangers the flames might lead her.

  Break all the rules. As Dave so often accused her of doing.

  Like a dash of cold water, the image of Dave’s pleasant face thrust itself between her and Judd. She’d sometimes wondered if Dave was falling in love with her; certainly he was her best friend, a man she’d worked with and knew through and through, as only those who wor
k in constant danger can know one another. But Judd…Judd was her enemy. What was she thinking of to kiss him this way, so wantonly? So cheaply?

  With a whimper of pure distress, Lise shoved hard against Judd’s chest. Like a knife wound, agony ripped its way along her right arm to her shoulder. She cried out with pain, turning her face away from him, involuntary tears filling her eyes.

  “Lise—what’s the matter?”

  “Let go of me,” she said raggedly. “Just let go!”

  “For God’s sake, don’t cry,” he said hoarsely.

  “Judd, let me go!”

  As he released her, she sagged against the edge of the counter, her breath sobbing in her throat, and said the first thing that came into her head. “You didn’t have to kiss me like that—I’d already agreed to go and see Emmy.”

  “You think I kissed you as a kind of insurance policy?” he snarled. “Is that what you think?”

  “What else am I supposed to think?”

  “I kissed you because I wanted to! Because you’re utterly beautiful and you’ve got a temper like a wildcat and you’re courageous and generous. Because I craved to taste your mouth and touch your skin. To tangle my fingers in your hair.”

  Lise’s cheeks flared scarlet. Judd was telling the truth, she thought faintly. Every word he’d just said was the simple truth. Or the not so simple truth. “You—you can’t do that,” she stammered. “You’re the man who was married to my cousin. I don’t like you, and we live in totally different environments—we’re worlds apart in every way that matters. Yes, I’ll come and see Emmy this afternoon. But that’s it. No more contact. Ever.”

  “Do you respond to Dave the way you just responded to me?”

  “That’s none of your business!”

  “Come clean, Lise.”

  “It’s lust, Judd, between you and me—that’s all. Nothing we’re going to act on and how do you think I feel kissing a man I despise? Lousy, that’s how.”

  “You don’t even know me!”

  “I know Angeline.”

  “Impasse,” Judd said softly.

  “So why don’t we skip the coffee?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m sure not in the mood for small talk.”

  “What happened between you and me just then is rarer than you might—”

  “Ask the expert,” she said nastily.

  “Don’t, Lise,” he said in a raw voice. “We don’t need to trade cheap shots. Both of us deserve better than that.”

  “In your opinion.”

  His jaw tightened. “You’re not going to listen to reason, are you? Your mind’s made up that I’m the villain of the piece and Angeline—” he gave a harsh laugh “—why, Angeline’s the blond-haired angel. Grow up, Lise. No marriage breaks up with all the fault on one side. Especially when a child’s involved.”

  “Why wouldn’t you give Angeline custody?” Lise demanded. “And don’t tell me it’s because she didn’t want it.”

  “What else am I supposed to tell you? It happens to be true.”

  She gave an impatient sigh. “And why were you away when the fire started? It was a business trip, wasn’t it?”

  For once she’d knocked Judd off balance. He stared at her blankly. “You could say so.”

  She pounced. “You were away with a woman, weren’t you? Why else would you be hedging?”

  “I was not!”

  “You know what I hate about this?” Lise flared. “You’re lying to me, Judd. About Angeline. About the women in your life. And yet you expect me to fall into your arms as though none of that matters.” Gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles were white, she said, “I wish you’d go. I’ve had enough of this. More than enough.”

  “It’s not over, Lise,” he said with menacing quietness. “Don’t kid yourself on that score.”

  “There’s nothing to be over—because there’s nothing between us!”

  “You’re dead wrong. I’ll see myself out.”

  He pivoted and a moment later the door closed behind him. Lise stood very still. Her knees were trembling as though she’d been running uphill for half an hour; her heartbeat sounded very loud in the sudden silence. One kiss, she thought numbly. How could one kiss turn her life upside down?

  When Dave kissed her, she never felt anything remotely like the fierce hunger that had enveloped her just now and that had made nonsense of all her rules. Dave’s kisses were as pleasant as the man himself. Which might be one reason why she and Dave had never gone to bed together.

  She’d go to Judd’s house this afternoon, do her best to allay Emmy’s fears and then she’d leave. And that would be that. If Emmy was there, Judd could hardly kiss her again.

  But if he did, what would she do?

  CHAPTER THREE

  PROMPTLY at four o’clock the cab turned into Judd’s driveway. The ornate iron gates were open, leading into stands of mature birch, oak and evergreens, where the snow lay in soft drifts: a small forest in the midst of the city. Then Lise was dropped off in front of the house. Except it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion.

  Right out of her league.

  The night of the fire she hadn’t taken time for anything other than working out where the bedrooms were in the family wing. Now she stood for a few moments, gazing upward. Despite the trampled grass, and the scaffolding against the damaged wing, it was a beautiful house, U-shaped, the lower story built of gray stone, the upper shingled in sage-green cedar. Rhododendrons and azaleas were clustered against the stonework; immaculate snow lay over an expanse of lawn bordered by tall pines. A tree house nestled in the branches of a maple, while a small pond had been cleared for skating. For Emmy, thought Lise, admiring the way the late afternoon sun gleamed orange and gold on the windows.

  It was a very welcoming house.

  It didn’t fit what she knew of Judd Harwood.

  She carried her bag of gear across the driveway, climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, Judd opened the door. “Please come in,” he said formally. “I told Emmy you’d be here soon.”

  He was wearing dark trousers with a teal-blue sweater. No man should look that good, Lise thought. It simply wasn’t fair. His features were too strongly carved to be considered handsome; it was the underlying energy, his sheer masculinity that was so overpowering. She said with a careful lack of warmth, “Hello, Judd, nice to see you,” and walked past him into the house.

  The foyer with its expanse of oak flooring was painted sunshine-yellow, a graceful spiral staircase drawing her eye upward. An eclectic array of modern paintings intrigued her instantly with their strong colors and sense of design. By the tall windows, the delicate branches of a fig tree overhung clay pots of amaryllis in brilliant bloom.

  Color. Warmth. Welcome. The only jarring note was, elusively, the smell of smoke. Confused and disarmed, Lise blurted, “But it’s beautiful.”

  “What were you expecting? Medieval armor and poisoned arrows?”

  Patches of red on her cheeks, she looked him full in the eye. “Where’s Emmy?”

  “In the guest wing—we’ve had to seal off the family wing. So the playroom’s makeshift, and a lot of her favorite toys couldn’t be rescued.” His mouth tightened. “She was clutching her favorite bear when you found her…she won’t let it out of her sight even though it stinks of smoke and I’m sure acts as a constant reminder.”

  “Plush,” Lise said. “She told me his name while I was carrying her out of the attic.”

  For a moment Judd’s eyes were those of a man in torment. “The fire chief figures it was a fault in the wiring. The housekeeper and her husband raised the alarm—they live in a cottage just behind the house, they had family visiting them that night. The baby-sitter had a headache, she’d taken so many painkillers she was out like a light on the couch. If it hadn’t been for you, Lise…”

  Lise couldn’t stand the look on his face; with an actual physical effort, she kept her hands by her side when all she wanted to do was smooth
the lines of strain from around his mouth. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been Dave or one of the other firefighters,” she said noncommittally. “Why don’t you take me to the playroom?”

  “Yeah…Maryann, the housekeeper, is up there with Emmy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What’s in the bag?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Here, let me take your coat.”

  As he reached out for her sheepskin jacket, she quickly slid out of it, not wanting him to touch her. He said, “So you haven’t forgotten.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “There’ll be no repeat.”

  “Not here. Not now.”

  “Nowhere. Ever.”

  He raised one brow. “Are you daring me, by any chance?”

  “Emmy, Judd.”

  “I didn’t get where I am today without taking a risk or two—you might want to remember that.”

  She said amiably, “Oh, I take risks, too. But I choose my risks. Show some discrimination.”

  “Whereas I go after every available female?”

  “Plus a few that aren’t. Me, for instance.”

  “Lise,” Judd said flatly, “are you involved with Dave?”

  She could lie, tell him that she and Dave were a number. And if she did, she had the feeling Judd would leave her strictly alone. But she’d never been any good at lying, and she’d waited too long. “There’s no easy answer to that question. Yes. No. Neither one cuts it.”

  “I don’t think you are,” Judd drawled. “Just as well, considering the way you kissed me.”

  “And how many women are you involved with, Judd?”

  “Platonically, several. But I don’t have a lover, if that’s what you mean. Haven’t had for some time.”

  His eyes were fastened on her face; he must have been aware of her quickened breathing. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

  “Yes,” he said in a hard voice, “as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Then you’re clean out of luck.”

  “The media can make a hotbed of romance out of a handshake, it’s how they earn their keep—you might want to remember that.”