Expecting His Baby

by Sandra Field

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LISE was ready to leave the house at nine the next morning. She’d woken with a sore heart and a plan of action. She’d go to her apartment and do some more cleaning in the morning, then in the afternoon she’d get on the Internet at the library and start researching her move east. She’d feel better when she’d taken some action, she told herself stoutly, running down the stairs in her jeans and an old red sweater, pulling on her ski jacket as she went. The sooner she left here the better. For everyone.

  By driving herself hard all morning, she got her bedroom and the bathroom stripped to the essentials; she was back at Judd’s by quarter to twelve, in lots of time for Emmy. She was pulling off her jacket in the foyer when the doorbell rang. It was too early for Judd, who’d said he’d bring Emmy home from school for lunch. Swiftly Lise pulled the door open.

  “Angeline!” she exclaimed, her face blank with shock.

  “You should never wear red,” Angeline said. “Didn’t I teach you anything all those years ago?”

  Horribly conscious that her hair was a mess and the red sweater none too clean because she’d been lugging bags of garbage to the basement of her apartment building, Lise said lamely, “Won’t you come in?”

  Angeline waved to the limousine parked in the driveway, then sauntered into the hallway, putting down the big package she was carrying. She was dressed in a sheared mink coat, dyed sapphire-blue; her cream wool pants and cashmere sweater were complemented by gleaming alligator boots. Her hair was an artful tumble of curls to her shoulders. She said calmly, as if she turned up on the doorstep every other day, “Where’s Judd? Not away, I hope.”

  “No. He should be here very shortly. With Emmy.”

  “My darling little Emmy…how is she?”

  “Fine,” Lise said baldly.

  “And what are you doing here?” Angeline asked, wandering over to examine a Steuben bowl filled with tulips.

  “I work here. As a companion to Emmy.”

  Angeline swung around, her pale blue eyes openly speculative. “Judd hired you?” Lise nodded. “How very odd,” Angeline said. “I suppose he was grateful after the fire.”

  “I suppose he was,” Lise said evenly. “I’m going to ask the same question—why are you here, Angeline? A surprise visit all the way from the Loire?”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  Lise flushed; and to her relief heard a car pull up outside. The front door opened and Emmy burst through. She saw Lise first; shucking off her boots, she cried, “Guess what? The picture I drew last week of us tobogganing won a prize at the art show.”

  She flung her arms around Lise and hugged her. Lise’s arms went around the little girl in a reflex response: a response she liked very much. Then she looked up and saw that Judd was watching them; and shivered from the open hostility in his gaze. He didn’t want Emmy showing her such open affection, because he knew Lise was leaving as soon as she could. Then Judd’s eyes swiveled sideways. He said in blank shock, “Angeline—what are you doing here?”

  Emmy stiffened in Lise’s embrace. She, too, looked over at the beautiful woman standing beside the tulips, a woman very much at her ease, who looked as though she owned the palatial foyer rather than being an uninvited guest. “I thought it was time I came to see my little daughter,” Angeline said. “How are you, ma chérie?”

  Emmy stood up straight, one hand clutching the hem of Lise’s sweater. “I’m fine.”

  “Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” Angeline asked with a winsome smile.

  Obediently Emmy walked across the polished oak and stood as rigid as a doll while Angeline folded her in her arms. “I’ve brought you a present,” Angeline said, indicating the package. “All the way from Paris.”

  “That’s nice,” said Emmy.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Emmy undid the box, pulling out a very large, fluffy brown bear. “I already have a bear.”

  “That dreadful old thing you had four years ago?” Angeline shuddered delicately. “Time you threw it away, ma petite. This one’s new and much bigger.”

  “But I love Plush.”

  For a moment Angeline looked less than doting. “You inherited your father’s stubbornness, I see. This is a very expensive bear, Emmy, from the most exclusive toy shop in Paris.”

  Emmy said woodenly, “Thank you very much.”

  Smoothly Judd interrupted. “You might as well join us for lunch, Angeline. Emmy doesn’t have long before she goes back to school. Lise, why don’t you lead the way?”

  So Lise, her hips swinging in her slim-fitting jeans, headed for the glass-enclosed solarium, where copper bowls of hyacinths and daffodils spilled glorious shades of azure and gold, filling the air with fragrance. Angeline was like a hyacinth, she thought: complex, extravagant and effortlessly beautiful. Had she really come to see Emmy? Or was her real aim Emmy’s father?

  As if he’d read her mind, Judd said, “I’m sure you had motives other than Emmy for coming this far, Angeline.”

  “They’ll keep until later, darling.”

  Inwardly Lise winced. Judd said in an expressionless voice, “You never were any good at keeping secrets—and now is as good a time as any to tell me why you’re here.”

  Angeline pouted her full lips. “You always could get anything out of me,” she said gaily. “Old friends of Henri’s live near here—Paul and Marie Gagnon…he’s a retired bank president. They’re having a gala concert in their home tomorrow night, some famous pianist or other. I’m invited, and I managed to get you on the list, too. I know it’s very last minute, but you remember how I always loved spontaneity.” Her smile, intimate and dazzling, hinted at other shared memories.

  “The Gagnons—don’t they have a son who used to be based in New York? Will he be there, Angeline?”

  Angeline’s laugh was brittle. “How would I know?”

  With a touch of grimness, Judd added, “And where’s Henri?”

  “Doing something terribly important to the vineyard. But of course he’d never stop me from coming.”

  Judd said bluntly, “Get an invitation for Lise, and I’ll go with you.”

  Angeline frowned, small lines marring her perfect forehead. “For Lise? Why?”

  “She saved our daughter’s life—or are you forgetting that? It’s the least you can do.”

  Lise had been quiet long enough. If Judd thought she was going to tag along to some fancy party as an unwanted third, he could think again. “I don’t want to go,” she said with finality.

  Judd’s slate-gray eyes clashed with hers. “But I want you to,” he said. “And I’m your employer—you’ll go, Lise. It’s an order.”

  She could quit. On the spot. “I have nothing to wear and no time to shop.”

  “Tomorrow morning. At Gautier’s.”

  Gautier’s was world famous for its designer label garments. “No,” said Lise. “I can’t afford Gautier’s, even on the salary you’re paying me. And I will not allow you to buy my clothes.” Once had been more than enough.

  “We’ll leave at nine-thirty,” Judd said.

  He was treating her like a child. Or was he punishing her for leaving his employ? For refusing to make love to him? Her cheeks flushed with temper, Lise opened her mouth for a scathing retort, then noticed Emmy listening to this interchange with wide-held eyes. She clamped her lips shut. But Angeline had no such scruples. “Darling, Lise would be out of her depth…much kinder to leave her home with Emmy.”

  “The three of us go. Or you can go on your own,” Judd said in a tone that brooked no argument.

  Angeline’s pout wasn’t quite so decorative this time. “But who will stay with Emmy? Surely you wouldn’t leave her here alone? Again.”

  “Maryann and her husband will stay with Emmy. And the Gagnons live only a few blocks from here…although your concern is very touching, Angeline.”

  Angeline had never been attuned to sarcasm. “Of course I’m concerned,” she coo
ed. “Emmy’s mine as much as yours.”

  Emmy chewed on her sandwich and said nothing, although Lise could see the child was picking up far more than the words that were being exchanged. Lise said, “If I’m as much out of my depth as you think I’ll be, Angeline, I can always leave early.”

  “You’ll leave when we’re all ready to leave,” Judd announced, his gray eyes inimical.

  Lise glared at him and pointedly addressed herself to her croissant, which was smothered in avocado and shrimp and deserved more of her attention than it had been getting. Judd knew she wouldn’t start an argument when Emmy was present. But Emmy wouldn’t always be around; and she’d never liked dictators.

  Angeline said sweetly, “You and I must have dinner at Chez LaBelle, Judd—for old times’ sake. That was my favorite place, remember?”

  He said impassively, “It went out of business six months ago. We’ll have dinner here tomorrow evening.”

  “I may not be able to get an invitation for Lise,” Angeline said with a touch of sharpness, “it’s very late for that.”

  “Just mention my name,” Judd said, “it’ll work wonders. I’ve known Paul for years.”

  Lise chewed on a pickled onion. Judd wasn’t acting like a man in love with his estranged wife; if he were, Lise was the last person he’d want tagging along to the gala. Or was he giving out the message he wasn’t about to fall into Angeline’s arms the moment she turned up?

  What ordinary woman could compete with Angeline?

  Judd started describing some of Emmy’s accomplishments at school, drawing his daughter into the conversation; and eventually the meal was over. Emmy and Lise went upstairs to find some gym gear, Emmy staying behind to clean her teeth. Lise went back downstairs, her footsteps silent on the thick carpet. As she came around the corner she saw Angeline and Judd silhouetted against the tall windows that overlooked the driveway. Judd’s back was to her. They were standing very close together, Angeline talking animatedly, Judd’s attention focused on his beautiful ex-wife. Then Angeline pulled his head down and kissed him, her tapered fingers caressing the silky black hair at his nape.

  Just so had she, Lise, caressed him. For a split second she was frozen to the spot. Then she backed up with frantic speed, her heart thrumming in her breast, her fingers ice-cold on the banister. She’d thought she’d known what jealousy meant the day Marthe had shown her the photos; but she’d known nothing. The pain that filled her body now was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Unbearable. Unmendable.

  Then Emmy came charging down the hall, her gym bag in one hand. “I’m going to be late—is Dad ready to take me back to school?”

  With a valiant effort at normality, Lise said, “Give him a shout, I just need to go to my room for a minute.”

  She was being a coward. But she couldn’t face Judd after what she’d seen. Hidden by the curve of the stairwell, she heard Emmy call out, and Judd’s deep voice answer. Then Angeline purred, “I’d love to come and see your school, Emmy.”

  “All right,” said Emmy with something less than enthusiasm.

  The front door closed. Silence fell. Lise leaned against the nearest wall, hugging her arms to her body, wishing she’d never come to this big stone mansion that was owned by a man with a heart of stone. Last night Judd had wanted to make love to her, Lise. Today he was kissing his ex-wife.

  If she had any sense, she’d run from here right now and never come back. But she couldn’t do that to Emmy. If Judd had been telling the truth, Angeline had left her daughter without saying goodbye. She, Lise, couldn’t do the same thing. It would be too cruel.

  She was trapped.

  Sharp at nine-thirty the following morning Lise presented herself at the front door. She was wearing her best wool skirt, of hunter-green, with leather boots and a matching hip-length green coat. Her chin was well up; her eyes openly unfriendly.

  Judd said sardonically, “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Let’s not pretend I’m doing this for fun, Judd. And don’t push me, I can quit anytime.”

  “But you won’t. Because of Emmy.”

  “Do you always use your opponent’s weakest point as leverage?” she said bitterly.

  “I do what it takes.”

  “Then let’s go dress me up like some kind of mannequin. Who’ll be on display tonight as one of Judd Harwood’s two women.”

  “Is that how you see it?” he rapped.

  “How else am I to see it?” Her temper got the better of her. “I saw you yesterday, kissing Angeline.”

  “She threw herself at me. That’s what you saw.”

  “You weren’t exactly struggling.”

  “You didn’t hang around long enough.”

  “Why would I? To check out if your technique’s the same with her as with me?”

  His breath hissed between his teeth. “Watch it, Lise. Or I might be tempted to demonstrate my technique.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  His answer was to clamp his arms around her, pull her toward him and kiss her hard on the mouth. Like a flash fire, Lise’s anger flared into desire, hot, compelling and unquenchable. Then Judd as suddenly thrust her away. His chest heaving, he snarled, “I told you not to push me too far and that kiss had nothing to do with technique.”

  “No—it was about power! About winning. Because you can’t bear to lose. Especially to a woman.”

  The morning sun pouring through the tall windows glinted in her hair and shot sparks from her brilliant eyes. Judd took a long, shuddering breath. “Maybe,” he said harshly, “it was about feelings.”

  She wasn’t going to go there; not with Judd. “Maybe it was about ownership.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Catch-22. If I don’t kiss you, it’s because I’m after Angeline. If I do, it’s because I’m some kind of Don Juan. You’ve got it wrong about me winning all the time—with you, I can’t.”

  The bitterness in his voice shocked Lise. If she weren’t pregnant by him, might she have softened, asked him what he meant? But all her intuition screamed that if Judd knew she were pregnant, he would insist on marrying her: because it was his child she was carrying. His. Ownership indeed. She said in a toneless voice, “We’d better go. I want to be back for Emmy at lunchtime.”

  “Right. Emmy. She’s your only concern, isn’t she?”

  “You’re paying me to look after her.”

  “Do you love Emmy, Lise?”

  Her jaw dropped. She remembered the fervor with which Emmy had hugged her this morning, the delicacy of the child’s bones, her searching eyes and quick-witted grin. “I won’t let myself—I can’t afford to.”

  “Because you’re hell-bent on vanishing from her life.”

  And what was she to say to that? If you saw me in six months, you’d understand why? Lise bit her lip and heard Judd say forcefully, “Lise, tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “Nothing’s bothering me, other than you. Judd, let’s go.”

  “You’ve got to be the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met! Bar none.”

  “It’s the red hair,” she said flippantly. “Too bad it doesn’t come out of a bottle. What color dress are you going to buy me this time?”

  Briefly he reached out to stroke her vivid curls. “Naked is how I prefer you.”

  A fierce blush scorched her cheeks. With an indecipherable exclamation, Lise pushed open the door and saw the limo waiting for them, the chauffeur at the wheel. All the way downtown she sat in her own corner, staring out the window. At Gautier’s it came as no surprise that she and Judd were ushered into a thickly carpeted private room with two women to serve them. Lise disappeared into the changing room, was supplied with an uplift bra, and was eased into the first dress. It was black and frighteningly elegant.

  Feeling awkward and unsure of herself, she marched out to the paneled, gilt-edged mirrors and Judd’s discerning eyes. He shook his head. “Not you, Lise.”

  It wasn’t. He was right. She almost had to be poured into the next dre
ss, which was silver lamé with a price tag that made her blanch. Before Judd could say anything, she announced, “Marilyn Monroe I’m not. I don’t want this one.”

  “You’d stop traffic,” he said, and winked at her.

  A reluctant grin quirked her mouth. “Even if I can’t sit down.”

  Back in the changing room, Lise riffled through the rack of dresses, beginning to enter into the spirit of the search; neither black nor white became her, she hated pastels, and anything red, orange or pink made her hair look like a five-alarm fire. So that dispensed with a fair number of the gowns. Then her hand stilled. The fabric was shot silk, dark green with an iridescence of sapphire; the bodice tight, the skirt paneled over a pencil-slim underskirt. She said, “I’d like to try this one.”

  The saleswoman said, “Madame has good taste.”

  Which probably meant she’d picked the most expensive dress on the rack. It was eased over her head. It fit perfectly, Lise knew that right away, and slipped her feet into the high-heeled sandals the salon had provided. Her head held high, she walked out of the changing room.

  Judd got to his feet, his face intent. “That’s it,” he said. “Perfect.”

  In silence Lise looked at her reflection, almost the reflection of a stranger: a tall, flame-haired woman whose ivory shoulders supported narrow straps, and whose cleavage was a soft valley cupped by the stiff, dark silk. The floating panels subtly emphasized the slit in the underskirt; she looked elegant, sexy and very feminine. She’d never worn a dress one-tenth as beautiful. And never would again. Especially in the next few months.

  “You’ll need shoes to match,” Judd said; and within five minutes Lise had selected sandals whose narrow straps made even her feet look sexy. Gossamer-thin stockings were added, and toning makeup. Then Judd obtained a swatch of the fabric and asked for everything to be delivered. Once Lise was in her street clothes again, he took her by the arm. “Vaison’s next,” he said.

  Vaison’s was the local equivalent of Tiffanys in New York. Lise said in alarm, “Whatever for?”