by Carol Caiton
He told himself this was Rachel's wedding reception. He was inside Wayne's and Eileen's house.
So, clamping his jaw, he stood down. But he knew male interest when he saw it. Admiration. Appreciation. Hell, when did men like that get a chance to meet a woman who thought of something other than sex?
But Rachel was married now. And Mason wasn't about to let any of the others make a move on Ali. Which left Jill. Who hadn't met his eyes once today. Who hadn't answered a single one of his calls. Who might be pregnant with his child.
He gave the girls one more minute to do their thing, whatever it was, but when his jaw started to ache, he decided he'd had enough.
Focusing on Rachel first, he walked over. "You look beautiful, sweetheart."
"Nathan, thank you."
She broke away from Ali and Jill to turn toward him. Her smile was soft and full of affection, just as he knew it would be. Rachel loved him and he loved her. He would have married her one day. He would have taken care of her into old age and given her the illusion of married life and a home of her own.
He bent down to kiss her cheek, then took a step back, physically, mentally, and emotionally. The abrupt end to that plan may have left him in limbo, but he was still standing at a life-changing crossroads. If Jill was pregnant and the baby was his, he'd better have his head screwed on right by God, because she sure as hell didn't.
He shifted his gaze to look at her, just in time to catch her watching him before she looked away.
"I know which one's the real Jill," Mason's son said, his eyes traveling back and forth between the twins. The boy must have decided Ali's hip was the perfect kid carrier because he looked like he planned to spend the rest of the afternoon in her arms. "The other Jill got married to Michael," Joshua said. He looked to Ali for confirmation.
"You're right. But we always call the other Jill Rachel so we don't get them mixed up. Don't you think that's a good idea?"
And just like that the lights came on.
"Yep," the kid said. "Rachel."
Kids.
Nathan slipped his palm beneath the real Jill's elbow and said, "Come walk with me. We need to talk."
Rachel gave her sister a teasing grin. "Uh-oh, what did you do now?"
"Is Jill in trouble?" Joshua wanted to know.
While Rachel told him she'd only been teasing, Nathan separated Jill from their midst and steered her toward the kitchen. Her reluctance was obvious. He could feel it in the stiff way she moved. But that wasn't unexpected. It was the reason he'd waited and maneuvered the way he had—so she'd have no choice. There was too much at stake and he knew she wouldn't create even a small ripple that might cause Rachel any concern.
Reaching the door that led out to the patio, he opened it with his free hand.
"I'm not going to run away," Jill told him.
He smiled grimly. "You've been avoiding me, so I'm not taking any chances."
Another front had moved in through the night, bringing blue skies and crisper temperatures. But the sun was warm so he guided her out into the yard toward the picnic table.
"I've had a lot to think about," she said.
Yeah, right, he thought. When had she the found time to do any thinking? On the ride to and from Seven Over?
"And you were right," she added.
He grunted. "What was I right about?"
She eased her arm out of his grasp and he let her go. "Things have changed," she said. "I'm having a hard time fitting you into your usual slot."
"I have a slot, huh?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know."
A breeze stirred up and raised goosebumps on her arms, so he took off his suit jacket, waited while she scooped up her hair, then draped it around her shoulders.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Let's sit down."
"This sounds serious," she offered lightly. But her smile was forced and he heard the catch in her voice. She wasn't stupid. She knew what was coming.
"It is serious," he agreed.
He brushed a couple of fallen leaves off the bench and waited for her to sit. Then he lowered himself onto the smaller bench at the end and looked at her. This wasn't easy for her. He knew that. He knew, too, that she was still mourning Luke's death and was having a hard time coming to terms with New Year's Eve and the fact that she'd purposely seduced him.
He gave her a minute. Her long hair drifted with the breeze. The soft green dress she wore was shot through with silver threads, simply cut, and hugged her breasts so that he had to drag his eyes up and keep them up. How could a woman look innocent and sultry all at once?
"I need to ask you a question, Jill."
It was a simple statement, but the weight of it hung in the air between them.
"I know," she said.
A surge of tenderness tightened his chest. He wished he could make this easier for her, but there wasn't an easy way to say what they had to say to one another.
"Are you pregnant?"
She looked down at her hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were sad. "I haven't taken a pregnancy test, but I'm late."
He drew in a long, difficult breath, held it, then exhaled. He may have been speculating about it for days, but the sudden reality shook him.
"Is it mine?" he asked.
"Yes." She pulled his jacket close, covering the front of her dress, and held it together with one hand. "Aren't you going to ask me how I know?"
The sudden rush of euphoria almost blotted out her question. It had taken years, but he'd resigned himself to never having children. Not with Rachel.
"No," he told her. "If you tell me it's mine, I know it's mine."
Her eyes softened and for a few seconds her distress faded away. Years of knowing one another, of loving and trusting one another, showed in the warmth of her expression. Then she gave him a sad smile and told him anyway.
"When Luke died, I was just finishing my cycle. And afterward," she shrugged one shoulder, "there was no reason to resume taking the pills."
He looked up when the back door opened and her mother stepped outside. Obviously she'd come looking for them.
"When things wind down here," he said quietly, "change your clothes and come over to my place so we can sort through it."
Eileen started across the lawn so he smiled and rose to his feet.
"Rachel's getting ready to leave," she told them. "Can your discussion wait until later?"
Nathan held out a hand to Jill, lending his support as she slid off the bench and stood up.
"Yes, it can wait."
CHAPTER 24
Rachel gathered the length of her dress in one hand and lowered herself into the Lotus while Michael held the car door and then closed it. The sun-warmed interior soothed some of the strain that had built over the previous two weeks. Or maybe it was the momentary relief of complete, closed-in quiet. No more lists, no more phone calls, no more fittings, shopping, or errands to run . . . . Whatever the reason, she welcomed the breathing room. She may not have transformed into a bridezilla, but having only two weeks to prepare for a wedding, regardless of its small size, had been a lot of work, on top of going to school and keeping up with homework.
She watched Michael—her husband—walk around the front of the car. The perfect fit of his tux emphasized his broad shoulders and chest. The confident determination in his step assured her that one of them, at least, wasn't overwhelmed.
It had all happened so quickly. Her life had changed dramatically in a short period of time. Sometimes she lay awake at night, processing the details, waiting for it to sink in so she could reevaluate. Michael gave the impression of being laid-back and easygoing, but he was a man who made things happen. Even the very first day she met him she'd accepted a dinner invitation from him, and she didn't date. He'd taken her oddities and failings in stride and then, astonishingly, he'd introduced her to the breathtaking joy of a kiss. He'd made love to her. He'd given her a child. A child! Sometimes her happiness was
so full, she sank onto the nearest chair and broke into tears. Then he'd told her he wanted to marry her as soon as possible and within two weeks—two weeks—she was standing beside him in her parents' living room dressed in white.
All of his business partners but one had attended the ceremony and had stayed for the reception. They were the same group she'd seen standing together at Luke's funeral and it occurred to her that her entire family, through Mason and now Michael, was directly connected to RUSH, Inc. The entire board of directors had spent the afternoon as guests in her parents' house. Who would have thought, especially after two years spent researching and coming up with so little information, that she'd one day be intimately acquainted with them?
Adjusting her seatbelt, she sat back with a long, calming sigh. It had taken a little time before she'd been able to move comfortably among them. It wasn't because they were unfriendly or because they were all such tall, muscular men, which sometimes gave her pause. But every one of them, strangers except for Mason, knew she'd been raped as a little girl. All of them were familiar with the details of her background and the issues she bore as a result.
Nervous at first, feeling exposed and embarrassed, she was glad to have Michael's arm around her waist, keeping her close. But each of his friends, through the warmth of a smile and a brief handclasp, had welcomed her into their circle. Conversation had been engaging with no hint of speculation or questions about her time at RUSH. Just a genuine desire to get to know her—readily offered friendship—simply because she was now Michael's wife.
She looked down at the stunning ring set on her left hand. Then the driver's door opened and Michael slid in behind the wheel.
"Everything good?" he asked.
Fastening his seatbelt, he slid the key into the ignition. But instead of starting the engine, he turned to look at her. He was waiting for her answer.
"Everything's good," she assured him and got a smile in return. Heavens but he was gorgeous. She badly wanted to touch him. But she always wanted to touch him. She'd have to watch herself so she wouldn't crowd him with her neediness.
She lowered her window as he reversed out of the driveway, waving a final farewell to everyone. Then she settled back in her seat and sighed.
The last of her things had been taken to Michael's house the day before, her clothes finding a place in his walk-in closet that was easily the size of another bedroom. Built-in drawers, shelves, and niches now held both their wardrobes with room to spare, probably enough to almost double her current wardrobe.
She thought about the white lacy corset beneath her wedding gown that Jill had convinced her was perfect. Wearing underthings designed to show off her body was a new experience and a little discomfiting. But she felt a tingle of excitement, too. It was yet another step she'd taken toward personal freedom and she had a drawer filled with skimpy silk and see-through lace, waiting to be worn.
"You okay?" Michael asked as he turned the corner out of her parent's subdivision and headed toward the highway.
"I'm better now," she told him.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She smiled over at him.
"Give me your hand, baby."
She happily slid her left hand over his on top of the gear shift and he clasped it with his thumb. For a few seconds he toyed with the rings he'd put on her finger.
"I didn't know if I was pulling you away from the party before you were ready," he said.
"No. I was ready."
When he shifted gears he still held onto her fingers. "Me too. Close your eyes if you want a few minutes to unwind." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before releasing her. "I'll let you know when we get home."
Home. She'd only ever moved to a new house once in her life and that had been after she was attacked. The neighborhood her parents lived in now, again just a couple blocks away from Ali, had been home since then. What would it be like to share a house with a man?
Closing her eyes, she settled back in the comfortable seat. Michael turned on the heater and warm air drifted around the interior.
She was married. Her name was Rachel Vassek now. It would take a little time to get used to that. She'd have to have her name changed on her driver's license and—
"Rachel?"
She opened her eyes and turned her head. "Yes? I'm awake."
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his jaw hardened and a muscle twitched there before it relaxed again. She wondered what was wrong.
"Your time at RUSH," he said, "—when Dalton touched you . . . ."
She waited. His hand tightened around the steering wheel and it concerned her. What was he thinking, and why did he want to talk about her sessions at RUSH? She glanced down at his other hand and saw it was wrapped tight around the gear shift. Perplexed, she brought her eyes back to his face.
"I didn't like it," he finally said, not taking his eyes off the road.
She continued watching him, waiting for him to explain, but he didn't elaborate.
So what was he trying to tell her? Had he been jealous of the instructor? But that didn't make sense because he knew, when she'd bitten into her bottom lip, that she hadn't liked it either. Was he looking for reassurance? Was he telling her in a roundabout way not to let any other man touch her? But that didn't make sense either. He already knew she couldn't bear to be touched at all, much less by any other man. And now that she was married, she wouldn't even consider it.
But his jaw was tense and his knuckles were white while he waited for her to respond. She took a minute, playing back the events of the afternoon. Had she been overly solicitous toward one of his business partners? No. No, that wasn't it. She'd stayed close to his side, grateful for his arm around her. There had been only the warmth of a handshake and an offer of friendship.
But another image surfaced in her thoughts. Nathan. He'd been nearby, catching her arm and pulling her to a stop when a breeze swirled up, about to trap her hair in the door before it closed behind her. And there had been that whisper in her ear when he'd come up behind her, reminding her to relax and enjoy herself, that this was her party. And there had been the kiss on her cheek and telling her she looked beautiful.
Could that be what this was about?
She wondered how to respond. She didn't think that explaining Nathan's relationship to her family was what Michael wanted to hear. This was about something different, assuming she'd even gotten it right.
"That day," she said, deciding to answer with a parallel example, "when I went to RUSH and saw you kissing that woman . . . with your hands inside each other's clothes . . . . My heart just wanted to stop beating."
A few more seconds passed, then his fingers relaxed on the steering wheel and he nodded. A few minutes after that, he turned onto the street that led to his house—their house—and pulled into the driveway. When he shut off the engine, he turned in his seat to face her. His expression was serious.
"You belong to me now, baby."
She looked into his eyes. She belonged to him? Did he think of her as his property?
"Do you belong to me too?" she asked, wondering if it worked both ways.
"Well yeah," he said, looking a little taken aback. "That's what marriage is."
Satisfied, she gave him a small smile. "Okay."
He smiled back, lifted his hand, and ran his fingers along her jaw. "Ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
His hair drifted forward over his right eyebrow. Though neater than usual during their wedding ceremony, it hadn't taken long before it surrendered to its customary tousled appearance. She brushed it back with her fingers, letting her hand linger.
Heat flashed in his eyes. His palm slid around to cup her face and he leaned over the console. When his mouth covered hers, she held onto his shoulder. And when his tongue slid into her mouth, she met it with her own. She was learning
"Let's go inside, baby. I wanna take my wife to bed."
Rachel sat where she was as he pulled back and got out of the car. One
kiss from him sent moist warmth to the intimate parts of her body and she marveled at her response. Was it because she'd gone without touch for so long? Or was it because it was Michael who touched her? Was it normal to melt for him like this? She didn't know.
Remembering his reaction the night he'd driven her home from Thilbeau's, she knew better than to open her own door. So she watched as long strides carried him around the front of the car, noting the pre-dusk light that seemed to emphasize his height and the width of his shoulders. He was going to pick her up in his arms and carry her over the threshold and her heart leapt.
He opened her door and held out a hand to help her. But instead of releasing her when she stood up, he slipped his keys into her palm.
"My hands are gonna be full," he said, grinning. Then he showed her which one was the house key. "Ready?"
She lifted her arms. "Yes."
He leaned down and scooped her up and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
But he hesitated, staring into her eyes and the smile disappeared from his lips. "This is it for me, baby," he said. "Everything I want in life is right here."
Emotion swelled in her chest, so much it almost ached. How could one person contain this much happiness inside?
"I love you, Michael. I love you."
His arms tightened around her. "You just keep feeling that way, and we're gonna do good together."
Then he nudged the car door closed and carried her up the walkway to the front door.
Inside the foyer he stopped only long enough for her to reset the burglar alarm. Then he carried her directly to the bedroom. He kept one arm around her as he lowered her to the floor and she was trapped against the length of his body.
"I thought all wedding dresses were stiff and scratchy," he said, fingering her sleeve. Then both hands slid beneath her hair to the long row of pearl buttons trailing down her spine. "Turn around, baby."