by Sandra Field
Lise melted into him, kissed him back and from a long way away heard a chorus of wolf whistles. Abruptly Judd pushed her away. “We’ve got an audience,” he drawled. “Too bad.”
He looked thoroughly in control of himself and of the situation. Whereas Lise felt as limp as a rag doll. In a cracked voice she said, “Are you happy? You’ve had your dance. Now you can go back to Angeline.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I think you do…I know you do. Regardless, let me spell something out.” She took a deep breath, only wanting this to be over. “I’m not another option, Judd. I never have been and never will be.”
In a voice like ice, Judd said, “Are you telling me the truth, Lise? Think about it very carefully before you answer.”
He’d given her her chance; and she had no choice, she had to take it. Because she was pregnant with his child. “Yes, it’s the truth,” she said steadily. “I’ll tell Emmy tomorrow that I’m leaving, and I’ll be gone right after that.”
“Fine,” Judd said, turned on his heel and threaded his way toward the entrance.
Lise watched him go, standing as though turned to stone in the middle of the dance floor. Judd wouldn’t be back, not this time. He’d go straight to Angeline. Who’d welcome him with open arms.
She’d done it. And what a place, Lise thought wildly, to realize your heart’s broken.
The next song started. Once again she ran for the ladies’ room, this time searching her evening bag and discovering she had more than enough money to get a cab back to Judd’s house. That’s what she’d do. And in the morning she’d tell Emmy she was leaving right away. A clean break. A new start.
She could do it. She was known for her courage, wasn’t she?
She’d rather face a burning warehouse full of explosives than either Emmy or Judd. And that really was the truth.
Fifteen minutes passed. Feeling ten years older, Lise pushed herself to her feet. Twelve hours from now she’d be back in her apartment; and a week from now, with any luck, she’d be on her way to Halifax.
She could do it. Because she had to.
Her face pale, she walked back into laughter, music and the buzz of conversation. The Gagnons should be pleased; the party was a success. All she had to do was find a phone and she’d be out of here.
“Hey,” said Roland, “you looking for me?”
“Roland, will you call me a cab?” she asked with the directness of desperation. “I—I’ve got a headache. But I don’t want Judd to know I’m leaving.”
“Oh,” Roland said easily, “that’s no problem. He and Angeline just left. They took off in a taxi. For Angeline’s hotel, I think that’s what she said.”
For a horrifying moment, the room dipped and swayed. I won’t faint, Lise thought with fierce concentration. I won’t. Holding onto the one thing she knew, she repeated, “A cab, Roland? Please?”
“Sure—you don’t look so great. But you won’t mind if I stay here?”
Roland, she was almost sure, would have another pretty girl in tow before half an hour was up; while she herself craved to be alone. “Of course not.”
Calling on all her good manners, Lise made her farewells to her host and hostess, and allowed Roland to escort her under an umbrella to the taxi. It was raining, the wind blowing gusts of drops across the wide driveway. She scrambled into the cab and Roland slammed the door shut. Lise gave Judd’s address and sank back against the seat. Too distraught to think, she blanked from her mind any thought of what Judd was doing now. Judd and Angeline.
She’d have lots of time for that. And how could she blame Judd? She’d given him the brush-off loud and clear. That he’d run so quickly to Angeline was nothing to do with her and everything to do with his proposed remarriage.
Minutes later she was running upstairs in Judd’s house, holding her skirts up so as not to trip. Maryann was already in bed; Emmy was fast asleep, three books and Plush spread over the covers. Lise stood in the doorway, feeling yet another crack open in her heart. How could she so quickly have come to love Emmy?
This was the last night she’d ever stand here like this, listening to Emmy’s breathing, a little girl whose life she had saved and who had thereby utterly changed her own life.
Quickly Lise went into her own room. The jeans and shirt she’d been wearing earlier in the day were still flung on the bed. Ordinary clothes. The kind that she’d be wearing from now on. Impulsively she kicked off her elegant sandals and reached for the zipper on her gown, frantic to be rid of it and all it stood for; and a couple of minutes later, wearing her jeans and shirt, was yanking the pins from her hair, brushing it until it stood in a cloud from her face. The emerald earrings she flung on the bureau; but once again the clasp on the pendant defeated her.
Scarcely thinking, Lise pulled on her rain jacket and rubber boots and dropped the front door key in her pocket. She’d go for a walk. She couldn’t stand to go tamely to bed, where she’d be alone with feelings and thoughts she wasn’t sure she could face. She’d always loved storms. And a little rain wouldn’t hurt her. The last thing she picked up was the flashlight that was stored in the drawer in her bedside table.
The wind howling along the driveway buffeted her so hard she had to lean into it, while rain drove its cold pellets into her face. Lise didn’t care. Now that she was finally alone, she was free to weep, for tears would mingle with the rain trickling down her cheeks; but the desolation in her heart was too profound for that. At some deep level she felt betrayed.
Judd had made love to her; and now was making love with Angeline. How could he?
Head down, eyes almost shut, she ploughed along. She had no idea what she was going to do when she reached the main road. Turn around and go meekly to bed? Walk the deserted streets until she was exhausted? She’d decide when she got there, she thought, and was almost glad to feel the pull in her muscles from the exercise.
Her flashlight made a small puddle of light on the wet black tar. Lise switched it off, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness; she was easily able to discern the edge of the driveway. Branches rattled in the wind, which thrashed the boughs of the tall pines and hemlocks. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine she was beside the ocean, listening to the hiss of waves, the crash of surf against the rocks…
Light suddenly shone against her closed lids, brilliant and unforgiving. Her eyes flew open. A car was hurtling toward her up the driveway, the headlights throwing long gold beams through the wet trees. Then the driver sighted her and in a scream of brakes the car ground to a halt scarcely ten feet away from her. It was the limo. Lise stood still, feeling as though her heart had leaped into her throat. The driver’s door opened and Judd lunged out.
Judd. The last person in the world she wanted to see.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GLANCING from side to side like a cornered animal, Lise took to the trees. But her hands were too cold to turn the flashlight on, and once she left the circle of light thrown by the car, she was in utter darkness. Her boot caught in a root. She almost fell, saving herself by grabbing at the nearest trunk. The baby. She had to think of the baby. She couldn’t risk losing it by running through the woods in the middle of the night.
With a sob of frustration, Lise turned around and waited for Judd to catch up with her. His flashlight wavered through the undergrowth. Twigs cracked underfoot. He stopped only a foot from her and shone the light full in her face. “You little idiot—I could have killed you! What in heaven’s name are you doing out on a night like this without even a flashlight?”
Lise said with icy calm, “I have a flashlight. And you’re the last person I was expecting to see. Where’s Angeline? In the car waiting for you? So you can go to bed with her?”
He dropped his flashlight to the ground and took Lise by the shoulders. “What the devil’s Angeline got to do with this? Don’t you understand? I came as near to running you over as I ever—”
In the dim glow of light, Lise saw that he was wh
ite about the mouth; and somehow this was the spark that ignited her rage. “If you expect me to apologize, you’re going to wait a long time,” she seethed. “And you’re not stupid, Judd, you know as well as I do that Angeline’s got everything to do with this. But do you know what’s so awful? That I had to come back here at all. That I can’t leave tonight because tomorrow morning I have to tell Emmy I’m going—I won’t let someone else tell her, I couldn’t stand to have that on my conscience. I can’t even risk running away in the woods! I’m trapped. And I never wanted to see you again. Never, do you hear?”
She seemed to have run out of words. Her nails were digging into the bark of the tree trunk, rather like Judd’s fingers were digging through her jacket. He said in an odd voice, “Why can’t you risk running through the woods? You’re not scared of the dark or the storm—or you wouldn’t be out in the first place.”
She was sick to death of deception. And she had nothing left to lose. Lise said flatly, “Because I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“You heard. I’m pregnant. By you.”
The wet plume of a hemlock brushed Judd’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice. After a silence that seemed to last forever, he said in voice Lise had never heard before, “You weren’t on the pill in Dominica.”
“Why would I be? There wasn’t a man in my life. Dave was just a friend.”
“So when we nearly made love here, you were already pregnant. No need for protection.”
“That’s right,” Lise said, and with a distant part of her brain realized how relieved she was to have the truth in the open. “I should have told you then. But I was afraid to.”
“The day you fainted—that was why.”
“Yes.” In a rush she went on, “You don’t have to worry, I won’t make any claim on you. Or on your money. I’ve given up my apartment and I’m going to move to the East Coast. Next week if I can swing it. Emmy will never know, and as for you and Angeline, you can both forget all about me.”
She couldn’t have disguised the bitterness she felt. With none of his usual economy of movement, Judd bent and picked up the flashlight, shining it in her face again. She stared back, hostility masking any other emotion; and was glad she hadn’t wept. He didn’t deserve her tears.
A sudden gust ripped through the trees, driving rain straight at her. Instinctively Lise ducked. Swiftly Judd pulled her closer, shoving the light in his pocket as he sheltered her with his big body. He was wearing a raincoat over his tuxedo; to her nostrils drifted the scent of his cologne.
It was the final straw. Filled with a chaos of rage, longing and pain, Lise beat on his chest with her fists. “Let go! How dare you even touch me? I hate you, Judd Harwood—I hate you!”
A shudder ran through his body. He pushed her away, his eyes like dark pits in his face. “We’re going to the house and have this out, Lise. Now.”
“I’m not getting into the limo with Angeline!”
“For God’s sake,” he exploded, “Angeline’s back in her hotel. Nowhere near here. Are you going under your own steam or do I have to pick you up and carry you?”
“I can still walk,” she flared. “I’m pregnant—not breakable.” Only her heart was broken, she thought wretchedly, and realized that deep down she must have cherished a fantasy of telling Judd she was pregnant and of having him enfold her in his arms and promise to love her forever.
Just like in the fairy tales.
Judd swung the flashlight to show their path, and led the way out of the trees. When he opened the passenger door, he must have seen how Lise’s gaze flickered to the back of the empty limo before she climbed in. He said savagely, “You don’t believe one word I say, do you?”
“Why should I?”
He slammed the door and moments later climbed in beside her, putting his foot on the accelerator so they raced up the driveway. The wipers swished away the curtain of rain; the house looked dark and ominous, a black bulk against the sky. Lise huddled in her seat. She felt cold and very tired. Yet one piece of information kept circling her exhausted mind. Angeline was back at her hotel.
What did that mean? And was it true?
Judd pulled to a halt by the front door. She climbed out before he could come around to open her door, and headed up the steps. Judd unlocked the door. The warmth brushed her cheeks as tangibly as a caress, and she began to shiver.
Judd said roughly, “You’re soaked. Come on upstairs and I’ll start a bath for you.”
She had to know. “Why did you leave the Gagnons’ party with Angeline?”
“We’re not going to have that discussion while you’re dripping on the carpet like a drowned rat.”
“Are you going to marry her?”
With an impatient exclamation, Judd pushed her in the direction of the stairs. “What in hell would I do that for?”
“For Emmy’s sake. Of course.”
“I am not now or ever going to remarry Angeline. Once was enough, thank you. And you can take that to the bank.” He took Lise by the elbow, hurrying her up the stairs. “I wouldn’t marry her for my sake or for Emmy’s sake. Emmy loves you, Lise—her mother’s a stranger to her. Now where do you keep that disgraceful old nightgown you’ve had for seventeen years? It looks like this is the night to wear it.”
He wasn’t going to marry Angeline. “Is that the truth, Judd?” Lise whispered.
He stopped dead at the top of the stairs; she felt the force of his willpower like a blast of sheer energy. “Lise, I may have lied to you by omission, but never by commission. Yes, it’s the truth. I’m no longer in love with Angeline, and I have no desire whatsoever to marry her.”
“Oh,” said Lise, and discovered she was shivering again.
Judd suddenly swept her up into his arms. “I was in control until I met you,” he said in a raw voice. “I had women figured out, and my life was just the way I wanted it. Straight track all the way to the horizon, all signals go. Then I meet up with a female firefighter with hair like flame and a temper to match, and I’m off the rails. Explain that to me, will you?”
She couldn’t. She was too busy fighting the temptation to bury her face in his wet raincoat and sob her heart out. But she wasn’t going to do that.
Not yet.
In short order Judd put her down beside her bed and marched into the bathroom to fill the Jacuzzi. He came back to find her standing exactly where he’d left her. He said levelly, “I’ve turned the heat up in the bathroom. Where’s your nightgown?”
“Second drawer down.”
He pulled it out and threw it on the bed. Then he walked over to Lise and drew down the zipper of her jacket, a small gesture that woke in her an agony of memories. She flinched away from him. His hand froze partway down. He said, “You do hate me, don’t you? You can’t even stand to have me near you.”
How was she to answer that? As her lashes fell, hiding her eyes, she told the literal truth. “I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Go have your bath,” Judd said. “Once you’re warmed up, you should get some sleep.”
His voice was devoid of emotion. All her movements like those of a robot, Lise yanked down her zipper, passed him her soaked jacket and walked past him to the bathroom, picking up her nightgown on the way. Closing the door, she stripped off the rest of her clothes and got in the tub.
The hot water laved her skin; she sank down in it, turned on the jets and floated boneless as a doll. Gradually she began to feel warmer. And with warmth came emotion, and with emotion the awakening of a desperate need for truth.
She had to know what had happened tonight. Judd no longer loved Angeline and didn’t want to marry her. That, however, wasn’t the same as saying he’d fallen in love with Lise. Yet she’d disrupted his life, thrown it off the rails. Whatever that meant.
Was he worth fighting for?
Wasn’t that the real question? Nothing to do with Angeline, and in a very real way nothing to do with the baby in her womb. It was a question for her, Lise. For
her and for Judd. Because, of course, she loved Judd. Through and through, with all her heart. Had done for weeks.
Dazedly Lise watched the ripples and bubbles in the hot water, and discovered that she was smiling with pure joy. Why had it taken her so long to admit that simple, earth-shattering truth? Hadn’t it been her hidden love that had impelled her to tell him she was pregnant? To stop deceiving him about something that was of utter significance to both of them? No matter what happened.
Swiftly she leaned forward and turned off the taps. Then she climbed out onto the bath mat, pulled a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her. The pendant Judd had given her was nestled between her breasts. One emerald and two sapphires, the colors of leaves and of water: the colors of life. Still smiling, Lise pulled the door open.
The bedroom was empty.
For a moment she stood transfixed, feeling terror pluck at her composure. Was she being an utter fool to think Judd wanted anything more of her than he’d already had? That he might, given time, come to love her not as the mother of his child, but as herself?
There was only one way to find out.
On bare feet she tiptoed down the hallway. His bedroom door was shut. Biting her lip, she very slowly turned the handle and eased the door open, all in total silence.
Judd was sitting on the edge of his bed, his back to her, his head buried in his hands. He’d stripped to his black trousers; the line of his spine was a long curve of defeat, all his arrogance and pride gone.
She couldn’t bear to see him like that.
Lise slipped through the doorway and just as softly closed it behind her. As the latch clicked, Judd’s head jerked up. He looked over his shoulder, saw her standing there and pushed himself to his feet. “Lise,” he said hoarsely, “what are you doing here?”
“I had to come,” she gulped. “I need to know what happened tonight with Angeline. I need to know how you feel about me carrying your child—please, Judd, won’t you tell me?”
His jaw was tight and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Lise found she was holding her breath, her pulse racketing in her chest. The rest of her life depended on what happened next, she was under no illusion about that. Praying desperately that he wouldn’t shut her out, she waited for him to speak.