“I’m glad she is coming here,” Leigh said. “I didn’t want to lie in some hospital room for hours.”
“Where you’re going to lie is directly across my knee when this is over, lady! Those happen to be my kids in there, you know.” He left her, on the run, grabbing his shirt and pants en route to the kitchen, where he put a pan on the stove. The sound of drawers being slammed could be heard all the way in the bedroom. And then his face reappeared in the doorway. “Where the hell are the linens?”
“What are you doing?”
“What I did, thank God, is some research with my brother Richard. Towels, Leigh?” he repeated impatiently.
She could not tell him at that very instant. When she could, there were tears in her eyes from the exertion, and she was digging her nails into Brian’s wrists. She had been prepared for the dull, aching cramps; they were short and well spaced and she had been practicing the breathing exercises for months. But she was so very tired now, and there had been so much trauma in the past few days. As each pain grew in strength and intensity, so did the feeling of panic…until she cried out to Brian, and saw him, and felt the strength in his hands. For one strange moment, she even imagined she saw tears in his eyes. “I can’t stand to see you hurting, Leigh.”
“It’s all right,” she said softly. But she did not have to be told she was not going to make it to the hospital. And then Dr. Franklin arrived, and she knew she wanted Brian to stay for the delivery.
“Leigh, listen, sweetheart,” he said soothingly. “I’ll be right here. It’s all right. Dr. Franklin will take good care of you.”
She was close, very close. Her body told her to push, to work—and it was work, more than pain. And she knew she wanted her husband to work with her, to aid her in the effort to bring their offspring into the world. It was partly a cry from her heart, perhaps not totally rational either, a cry for Brian to bond with his children—his children. And it was partly the most basic statement of love and trust.
“Red, damn it, push!”
She smiled at his frantic tone, never believing that she would have the occasion to calm him. But she was wrong. She had exactly enough time to murmur, “Help me, Brian. Our children are being born. Help me.”
It all happened very quickly after that. The first was a red-faced, dark-haired, skinny, squally girl. Leigh would never forget the wonder, the shock on Brian’s face when he took the baby from her. The second was also a girl—they were identical twins. Red and wrinkled as the babies were, Leigh thought them the most beautiful creatures on earth. And she knew Brian felt the same.
“Never again, though, Leigh,” he said. “Next time you go to the hospital months ahead of time. Do you hear me? I’m going to lock you in there with a whole team of doctors.”
“Yes, Brian.” Next time? Her heart soared.
He kissed her, long and lingeringly, before she was strapped on a stretcher with the infants to be taken to the hospital. “I’d rather stay with you,” she whispered to Brian. “It’s over, and lots of women have their children at home these days. I don’t see why I have to—”
“You can have your way for the next thousand years, Red, I promise you, but not tonight,” he scolded sternly.
“That’ll teach you to sleep in a separate room,” she whispered. She was thoroughly exhausted, and yet the smile on her face was immovable, a fixture of happiness.
Brian’s smile was no less real, and she swore she heard him laughing as the doors were closed on the ambulance and it pulled out of the drive.
***
The whisper of a breeze from the open doorway brought the scent of roses into the bedroom. It was nearing midnight, and the house was quiet and peaceful. The moonlight etched silver on the bare back of the man beside her.
Leigh fought the sleep that threatened, wanting to savor the silence and sensations of the warm night. Loretta and Kim were almost six weeks old now, and no longer the red-faced squirming bundles they had been at birth. They now looked very much like their father, dark-haired and dark-eyed, but with Leigh’s creamy skin. Although the twins were identical in appearance, each had her own distinct personality. Kim was a peaceful baby, her eyes taking in the wonder of the world with every passing day. Loretta was more apt to be more restless, less content; she would be constantly carried, night and day, if she could get away with it. Which she could, when Brian was around. For one who was wary of “squalling brats,” Brian had done an abrupt about-face that still caused Leigh to smile.
Ruth had offered to come for the first month, but Brian suggested she come a little later. Instead, he had hired a night nurse, and had taken three weeks off from work to help Leigh himself. On the evenings he was forced to bring work home, he carted at least one of the twins into the library with him. They never fussed for him. They either slept or gurgled contentedly in their infant seats, next to his drawing board or on the couch, intrigued by the sound of a pencil scratch or the crackle of paper.
Leigh sighed, unable to believe how absolutely happy she was. She heard the sound of a baby’s cry, and instinctively she stilled. Brian also was all attention, so she knew he wasn’t asleep. “Loretta,” he said perceptively.
They both listened to the soothing sounds of the night nurse, the cries abruptly ceasing as the infant was cared for.
“We won’t need her much longer,” Leigh said of the nurse. Kim was already sleeping through the night, and it seemed foolish to have outside help for only an occasional night feeding. In the beginning, Leigh had been desperate for rest, but now she was feeling perfectly fit again, with as much energy as she had ever had.
“We’ll see,” Brian murmured. “I don’t want you all tired out, Leigh.”
“Are you awake?” she whispered a few minutes later.
He chuckled. “Getting there,” he said dryly.
“Good.” She kissed the back of his neck, and then rained soft kisses down the cool skin of his spine. With her fingertips, she erased them, in smooth, soothing caresses, and then started all over again. “I’ve been looking at that back of yours for nearly over a month,” she complained.
He turned, pressing her back into the sheets, and drew her hands together in one of his own. “You haven’t been back to the doctor yet, Red,” he reminded her.
His chest was more interesting than his back. Her fingers traced patterns in the swirls of hair, followed by her lips, soft and curious. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispered. Crouched on her knees in the darkness, she put both arms on the sides of his face so that she could lean over and gently kiss his neck and ears and forehead. She drew back to look at him, love and a question in her eyes. “I think this is called a very amateur seduction. I love you, Brian. I feel like singing it from the rooftops.”
With one smooth, sure move, their positions were reversed, and Leigh was pressed into the sheets with Brian staring down at her. She could feel his love, a tangible essence between them, and she could feel her whole body react to it, trembling in anticipation. And then his lips came down on hers, and the trembling ceased.
About the Author
Jennifer sold her first book in 1980, and since then she has sold more than eighty books in the contemporary romance genre. Her first professional writing award came from RWA—a Silver Medallion in 1984—followed by more than twenty nominations and awards, including being honored in RWA’s Hall of Fame and presented with the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Jennifer has been on numerous bestseller lists, has written for Harlequin Books, Avon, Berkley and Dell, and has sold over the world in more than twenty languages. She has written under a number of pseudonyms, most recognizably Jennifer Greene, but also Jeanne Grant and Jessica Massey.
She was born in Michigan, started writing in high school, and graduated from Michigan State University with a degree in English and psychology. The university honored her with their “Lantern Night Award,” a tradition developed to honor fifty outstanding women graduates each year. Exploring issues and concerns for women t
oday is what first motivated her to write, and she has long been an enthusiastic and active supporter of women’s fiction, which she believes is an “unbeatable way to reach out and support other women.” Jennifer lives in the country around Benton Harbor, Michigan, with her husband, Lar.
Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!
Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog: www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter: www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook: www.facebook.com/CarinaPress
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9100-7
First published by Berkley Publishing Group in 1983
Copyright © 1983 by Alison Hart
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.CarinaPress.com
A Daring Proposition Page 19