Baby Times Two

by Marie Ferrarella

  She looked at him, confused, waiting.

  “You weren’t there,” he explained.

  This was ridiculous. They couldn’t go back, couldn’t change anything. Why was she even discussing it? “Regrets?”

  “With a capital R.” His hand tightened over hers and he brought it to his lips. “I regret losing you. I regret the fact that we didn’t try to make it work.” Marriage took work. He realized that now. Why hadn’t he then? “Why was that?”

  Gina extricated her hand from his. He was unraveling her again and she didn’t want that to happen. “Maybe we were too busy having arguments to realize that there was another side to it.”

  He nodded. It made perfect sense. Funny how the simplest things could be overlooked in the heat of the moment. “I’m ready.”

  She didn’t understand. “For what?”

  “To hear your side of it.” And then he’d explain his. They could begin fresh from there.

  It was too late. Too much time had passed, too many things had happened between then and now. Gina sighed. “I just want to eat, Chase.”

  He knew she was stalling, but for once, he had patience. He could wait this through. “Okay, we’ll eat. Then we’ll talk.”

  She let her fork drop, and rose. “It’s not going to get us anywhere.” Restless, she began to move around the office, a prisoner of her own feelings and of the specter of the past. “We’re still the same people we were then.”

  He restrained himself from rising to his feet and taking her into his arms. She needed to expend a little of her pent-up energy.

  “We’re older, Gina. That’s supposed to bring wisdom.” He knew he’d become enlightened just in the past few weeks.

  That was just a saying created by people over forty. “The only wisdom that comes from getting older is that you know you’ve gotten older.”

  That sounded coldly cynical. He leaned back in his chair, watching her pace. “I think I’m going to have you fingerprinted.”

  Frustrated, wanting one thing, knowing she required another, she fisted her hands in her pockets. “What?”

  “You don’t sound at all like that cockeyed optimistic girl I married.” There was more than just a touch of regret in his voice. Her optimism had annoyed the hell out of him. Now he missed it.

  She stopped pacing as she looked at him. “You pulled it all out of me.”

  His mouth hardened. He’d hurt her, he thought, a great deal. “Then I should be shot.”

  She tossed her head and resumed pacing. “Don’t think I didn’t contemplate it.”

  He rose and came up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders. He felt her weakening just the slightest bit. “I’m sorry, Gina.”

  Gina stiffened, then turned around. She didn’t quite realize that she had neatly positioned herself in the circle of his arms. “Sorry?”

  “Sorry that I hurt you.”

  There was a time, she thought, that his apology would have made her weep with happiness. And another time when she would have thrown it in his face, her anger seething. She did neither. Maybe she was too numb.

  “We hurt each other,” she conceded in a tight voice. There were emotions within her trying to break free. Emotions she couldn’t set free without jeopardizing herself and what she had achieved. “We’re adult enough to realize that.”

  She took a step back, but he didn’t release her. “I want to give it another try.”

  Maybe she wasn’t as adult as she thought. The simple words struck fear into her soul. Her heart was ready to leap at his beck and call. She hadn’t changed as much as she wanted to believe.

  But her mind told her that people didn’t really change, they only found new ways to make the same mistakes.

  “No.”

  Chase had never thought that a simple word could devastate him so. It took him a moment to collect himself. He reached for her again. “Gina—”

  She stepped away to keep her distance. “Don’t,” she warned. “Don’t crowd me, Chase. I shut down after you left. And swore that I’d never open up again.” But she knew now that she could—for him. “You do this to me and I don’t know what kind of pieces I’ll have left after it’s over.”

  He didn’t want to overwhelm her with promises that she wouldn’t believe. He had to build this a step at a time. “Maybe it won’t be over.”

  She wasn’t a dreamer anymore. At least, not about this. It wasn’t strength that did this, it was fear. “And maybe I’ll be elected president tomorrow, but the odds are against it.”

  He was in no frame of mind to give up. Not until he had made at least one small step forward on this path. “You’ll have my vote. In both instances.”

  There was only one way to deal with this. Total honesty. She braced her hands on his arms, forcing him to keep his distance physically if not emotionally.

  “Chase, I’m afraid. I’m really, really afraid and I’d just like to leave things the way they are. We seem to have an uneasy friendship in the making here. Let’s leave it at that, all right? I’d really like to have you for a friend.”

  He intended to be her friend, but he also wanted more. “Can’t we be friends and lovers as well?”

  She shook her head as tears cast a sheen over her eyes. “We weren’t before.”

  No, somehow friendship had been sacrificed along the way. And then the rest of it had gone sour on them. He wasn’t going to argue that with her.

  “That doesn’t mean we have to repeat the same patterns over and over.”

  She wished he wouldn’t hold her like that. She couldn’t think when he did. She raised her chin, trying to brazen it out. “People usually do.”

  “Not necessarily. People do change. You’ve lost some of your optimism,” he pointed out. “We can go forward.”

  She shook her head. He didn’t know what he was asking her to do. “I can’t.”

  He slowly trailed the back of his hand along her cheek. She’d seemed so strong earlier. Now she seemed so frail, like the finest china. He schooled himself to go slow. “Then let me show you the way.”

  There was her heart again, she thought, stuck in her throat. “Chase, if you kiss me—” The threat began in a low, throaty whisper.

  “Yes?” He tilted her head back and looked into her eyes. “You’ll what?”

  She moistened her lips. There was only one answer. “I’ll kiss you back.”

  “The next sound you hear is my knees, shaking.” He grinned down into her face. “Was that supposed to frighten me? You’ve just made me the best offer I’ve had in a long, long time.”

  It wasn’t an offer so much as the truth. And it frightened her. She placed her hands on his chest, wanting to talk. Needing to talk. “I won’t deny that you’re a good kisser.”

  He stared, puzzled. “I didn’t know that was up for debate at the moment.”

  He wasn’t letting her talk. This wasn’t funny. It was all too serious. She would get caught up in the moment, but it was more than the moment at stake here. “But that’s not enough.”

  He’d ached for her. Probably since the moment he had seen her in the restaurant in Newport. Probably much longer than that. “My sentiments exactly.”

  She saw the smoky look of desire in his eyes. “I didn’t mean that way.”

  No, he thought, she didn’t. Not entirely. “I did. I’ve missed you, Gina, missed you so much that I lie awake now at night, aching inside, knowing you’re only a room away.”

  Her wish had come true, she realized. She found no comfort in his suffering. Only a sadness she couldn’t shake free of. It was locked in the grips of fear she hadn’t realized was as deep, as pervasive as it was.

  “Let me love you, Gina.” Taking her hand, Chase led her to the spacious cream-colored leather sofa she’d had the deliverymen place here just yesterday. “Let me love you the way we used to do. It was good.” His voice was soft, coaxing. Need pulsed just beneath. “That part was always good.”

  Gina swallowed, feeling herself weakening. �
��I’m not denying that.”

  At least they agreed on something. It was a start. “Then we have something to build on.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Ashes, Chase, we have ashes to build on.”

  He smiled at her as he slipped his arms around her again. “I’ll get the Hoover and we’ll start over.”

  “But—”

  She got no further. Her mouth was otherwise occupied.

  Words had failed, but he knew what worked, what always worked. For both of them. The arguments might have gotten heated, but the loving, the loving had always been good. More than good, it had been excellent.

  He intended for memories of what they had shared together, of their physical union—which to him had always been indicative of their emotional union on some level—to do his persuading for him.

  Hungrily, his mouth roamed her mouth, her face, reducing her to a tissue of desires that blew helplessly in the winds of his ardor.

  As his hands gently caressed her, moving slowly up toward her breasts, a thousand emotions washed over Gina. They took her breath away and erased her every coherent thought save one. She wanted to make love with him.

  The way they used to.

  Avidly, her mouth met his as something hot and demanding surged through her limbs, dissolving her into a mass of passion. Chase’s arms felt strong about her, strong and protective. She molded her body to his, hurrying to satisfy her needs before her thoughts, her doubts, caught up to her.

  The butter-soft leather accepted them as they sank onto the sofa, cradling them as gently as if they had slipped into a womb.

  She was safe and she was his.

  Desire rushed through her like a midnight-express train on an emergency run headed for its last stop. Hurtling through the dark, she was propelled by anxiety and anticipation, aware that there was only one haven where she could come to a final stop.

  She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. She hadn’t been with a man since the last time she’d made love with Chase. There had been no desire to be intimate with anyone else. For all eternity, there was only going to be one mate for her.

  The man she was constantly at odds with. The man who had walked away from her and left her emotionally bereft.

  His hands were beneath her blouse, touching, caressing, evoking a sound from her that was a cross between a whimper and a cry of joy.

  As she tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, bells began to ring in her head.

  Chapter Nine

  The ringing persisted.

  With a jolt, Gina realized that the ringing wasn’t in her head, it was coming from the telephone. Like a sharp, jagged nail being dragged across a chalkboard, the noise startled Gina into consciousness.

  She looked at Chase, her eyes wide with alarm.

  Cold reality slipped over her as a distant peal of thunder commemorated the moment. Dear God, what had she almost done?

  Swallowing, trying to pull thoughts together that were tumbling about like so many tiny pills spilling out of a container, Gina bolted upright on the sofa. She scrambled up, nearly tripping as she unsteadily gained her feet.

  A cold, clammy feeling of bereavement seized Chase as he moved back and sat up on the sofa. His mood was as dark as the sky that had changed so abruptly. He knew that there would be no moving forward for them tonight. Not with that look of panic entering her eyes. It was one thing to entice her, to spark her memory of things past and hope something more would flower. It was another entirely to force himself on her.

  He would never do that, no matter what his needs.

  Taking a deep, ragged breath, he corralled his desire with steel cords and regained control. Anything less than total control and he knew he’d lose her completely and irrevocably this time.

  She’d lost her shoes, Gina thought, looking down at her bare feet as she stumbled to the telephone on the desk. She had no recollection of that. Or of anything else short of the multicolored feelings humming through her a moment ago.

  Dragging air into her lungs, she snatched the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice was a hoarse squeak. God, she sounded like someone who’d been running a marathon—and finished dead last, Gina thought, dragging a shaky hand through her hair.

  A male voice, confident and loud, filled the receiver. “This is Paul. Did you like it?”

  The words, the question, didn’t make any sense to her. All she could think of was Chase. And his hands, oh God, his hands, all over her, reducing her to the most pliable of substances.

  She cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”

  “The lasagna, did you like it?”

  Gina leaned against the desk, feeling as if all the air had been siphoned from her. It was the chef. The chef was calling her to find out how she’d liked his meal. Of all the ridiculous things—

  She frowned deeply as she saw her reflection in the window. She was disheveled and disoriented. Just the way she felt.

  Gina tried to concentrate. The man was waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, very much.” Her mind felt like an empty, bottomless well. She struggled to dredge up coherent words. “It was excellent.”

  The chuckle on the other end told her that Paul had expected nothing less. Possibly a little more. “Your boyfriend said it was your favorite. I always find that a challenge, reproducing a favorite dish and making it better. It was better, wasn’t it?”

  The man was a pompous ass, but he did cook well. Besides, she couldn’t very well alienate someone on James’ staff.

  “Best I ever had,” she murmured sadly, looking at Chase.

  She wasn’t thinking of the meal.

  “I thought so.” Paul’s voice boomed against her ear. “Just wanted to check, that’s all. Glad you enjoyed it. Good night.”

  And then the line went dead.

  Gina pressed her lips together, still tasting Chase. She leaned over to reach the telephone cradle and hung up.

  Chase just sat there, studying her, absorbing every detail. Her nerves were close to the surface again and there was a haunted, frightened look in her eyes. Had he done that to her? Now? He didn’t understand how, but he knew that this was going to take more damage control than he’d thought.

  He’d have to slow down, he counseled himself. He hadn’t meant for things to become so accelerated and to get out of hand the way they had. The intimacy and the memories had all conspired to spur them on.

  But he’d rather die than hurt her again.

  He rose, shoving his hands into his pockets. His shirt, the one she’d so eagerly, so urgently, unbuttoned only moments ago, hung open, framing his muscular torso.

  He ached for her.

  The smile was soft, tender, as his eyes met hers. “I don’t suppose there’s much point in asking if we could get back to where we were before the interruption.”

  He knew the answer before she said it, but he wanted the option to be hers. The shots to be hers. He felt he owed it to her.

  Gina felt like someone just coming out of shock. She hadn’t fully realized the depth of her ardor until it had almost broken loose.

  “No point,” she echoed.

  He felt awkward, as if nothing fit, including his own skin. She looked so uncomfortable, so miserable. He didn’t know where to begin to make it right. That had always been the problem, he supposed.

  “Can I, um, help you with anything?” He gestured around, having absolutely no idea what he was offering to help with.

  Gina shook her head. “No, I think you’ve helped enough.”

  The strap of her tank top had slipped from her shoulder. Gently, he eased it back, hardly touching her skin. But just enough. “We went a little too fast, I guess.”

  She merely shrugged and turned away, not trusting herself to look at him. She’d almost made a mistake, a huge mistake that would have ensnared her emotionally. She knew if she stayed around Chase any longer, making that mistake was just a matter of time.


  And she couldn’t afford to make it. She couldn’t relive the past again. She wasn’t strong enough, not for that, no matter what she told herself.

  Chase reached for the doorknob. She saw his reflection in the darkened window. Outside the sky had gone completely black and she could hear the sound of rain. It was beginning to pour.

  “Thanks for the dinner,” Gina murmured as she watched Chase walk through the doorway.

  He paused for a second, staring at her back. Waiting. But there was nothing more to wait for. Gina didn’t say anything more.

  She needed more time, he told himself. “Don’t mention it.”

  Gina released the sigh she’d been holding as Chase closed the door behind him and then she sagged against the desk, drained.

  She reached for the telephone again.

  * * *

  Gina paced back and forth in front of her bed, the telephone dangling from her fingers as she pressed the receiver against her ear. Her gold hoop dug into her neck.

  On the other end of the line, Rene’s cool, crisp voice was arguing on the side of sanity and reason.

  Gina didn’t feel very reasonable.

  “Why don’t you give this a little more thought?”

  Gina frowned. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, her clothes deposited inside in an agitated flurry approximating neatness. She’d come upstairs to pack as soon as she had made the airplane reservations. She had to leave. Now, before she gave in.

  Before she doomed herself to repeat history.

  “I can’t, Rene. I can’t afford to think at all.” She felt her hand begin to tremble and cradled the receiver against her shoulder and ear. The problem was she couldn’t think. Not clearly. All she could do was try to escape.

  “Everything’s all scrambled together.”

  There was a long pause on the other end. “I’ve never known you to actually run before.”

  She didn’t need that highlighted for her. She knew what she was doing, what it looked like she was doing.

  “Think of it as a new side of me. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.” There was an edge in her voice and she regretted it, but she couldn’t help herself.