In Another Man’s Bed

by Francis Ray

  He had every right to think her immoral and loose, but he treated her with infinite kindness. Her eyes filled with tears.

  “Are you all right?”

  No, but I will be. “I’m fine.”

  His penetrating stare said he didn’t believe her, but he helped her out. Silently they walked to the back door of her father’s law firm. The smell of the chicory coffee caused her stomach to roll.

  Patrick saw her expression and said, “As soon as we check in with Matilda, we’re out of here.”

  She couldn’t agree more.

  Brianna woke up in her own bed shortly after three that afternoon. Lines of confusion darted across her forehead as she stared at the bright light streaming through her window, then she remembered.

  She was pregnant.

  She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the bedding. So much had changed in the past seventy-two hours. She was pregnant, unmarried, and the father was a Class-A jerk.

  And she had lost Patrick.

  Brianna almost whimpered as the pain of the loss hit her. How could she have been so stupid? It wasn’t the baby’s fault, she’d never think that. She was a grown woman and had made the choice to be intimate, and now the consequences had slapped her in the face.

  Ready or not, she was going to be a mother.

  The door opened quietly. Patrick peeked into the room. Her heart swelled with an emotion she couldn’t define. It was extremely easy for her to imagine him doing that countless times to check on her. Why hadn’t she met him first?

  “Feeling better?”

  Her body perhaps, but not her spirits. “Yes.”

  Coming farther into the room, he hunkered by the bedside. Briefly his palm cupped her cheek. She wanted so badly to prolong the contact. “You want to try a couple of spoons of broth? Eating smaller portions won’t make your stomach rebel as much.”

  “All right.” She didn’t want any food, but knew she had to eat something or she’d never start feeling better.

  “Be back in a jiff.” Pushing to his feet, he started from the room.

  “You must have other things to do. I’ll get it later.” She had no idea of when that might be. It was an effort to lift her head. She scrunched deeper into the bedding.

  Patrick quickly retraced his steps and hunkered down once again. “There’s nothing more important than making sure you and the baby are taken care of.”

  Tears crested in her eyes again. Pregnancy definitely took you on an emotional roller coaster.

  Snatching a tissue from the box on the bedside table, he dried her tears. “A lot has been thrown at you, but things will get better.”

  She took the tissue and dabbed her eyes herself. “I know. I’m usually not this weepy.”

  “You’re entitled. Just know that I’m here for as long as you need me,” he said.

  “But you shouldn’t have to be,” she said, not sure if she meant because she was pregnant or because he wasn’t the father.

  “I want to.” He took her hand, his thumb gently stroking. “We were lovers, and now we’re friends. I plan to stick around as long as you let me. I’ll get that broth.”

  Her eyes stung as he left the room. She wished they were both.

  Twenty-two

  Justine finally reached home at half past ten. After the negative interview her mother-in-law gave, the hospital’s switchboard had been flooded with calls from friends, family, and associates of Andrew. Many of those calling were well connected and politically powerful and had spoken directly with the administrator. He hadn’t been pleased and wanted the hospital’s sterling reputation restored. Thus, they were now bending over backward to give Beverly anything she wanted.

  Extended visitation was at the top of her list. It had taken the social worker, Ms. Lancaster, to point out to her mother-in-law that Andrew needed his rest. Continuous stimuli couldn’t be good for him. As for Justine, each time his eyelashes flickered, she felt as if she were falling deeper and deeper into a black hole.

  Once inside, she practically ran to the back. She was barely off the portico before Dalton appeared. In seconds, she was in his arms.

  “We’ll get through this, honey.”

  Eyes closed, Justine tried to fill her mind with memories: the warmth of his muscled body, the spicy aftershave, the arousing softness of his beard, his deep voice that could arouse and soothe. “We need to talk.”

  As if sensing he wasn’t going to like what she said, his arms clutched her closer. “Don’t throw away what we have.”

  This is for him, for countless others, she thought. Slowly she pushed out of his arms. “We can’t build a life on deceit.”

  “Jus—”

  “We would be as guilty as Andrew,” she said, talking over him. “Perhaps this is my punishment for breaking my marriage vows just as the accident was Andrew’s. Good can’t come out of wrong.”

  “That’s bull,” Dalton snapped, his hands clenched around her upper arm. “It’s not your fault any more than it was mine when my wife left me for another woman.”

  Stunned, all Justine could do was stare at him.

  Suddenly, she was free. “Yeah, the bad boy of Charleston’s wife left him for a patient she met while in a psychiatric clinic for her violent outbursts. The woman, a psychologist, was there to kick her cocaine habit. Instead she got my wife hooked on the stuff, and on her.”

  “Dalton, I’m sorry,” Justine said, reaching out briefly to touch his arm.

  “I felt like crap when I found out about the affair.” He shook his bowed head. “Here I was, a big macho man, and my wife wanted another woman. That she was bipolar and easily manipulated didn’t matter. Her lover had given her something I couldn’t. Finding out about it on the six o’clock news when they were arrested in a drug sting didn’t help. I was scheduled to go to work the next day, but I called in sick. I didn’t want to show my face.” He stepped closer. One large hand tenderly cupped her cheek.

  “At the time I was still fighting demons, until I came back and held you in my arms.” His other hand cupped the other cheek. “Don’t throw away what we have to do penance. Please.”

  “I can’t,” Justine said, her heart breaking. “Too many lives will be affected if I start divorce proceedings now.” She swallowed. “He wouldn’t even know what is going on. He may not remember.”

  Dalton’s black eyes hardened. “And that excuses him?”

  “No, of course not. But now I know how difficult it is to resist temptation.”

  Dalton muttered an expletive. “Don’t you dare compare what we have to some sleazy affair. I love you.”

  She’d wanted to hear those words for so long and now they were coming too late. “We can’t be happy building on someone else’s misfortune.”

  “I’m not going to let you waltz right by what I said.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “What difference does it make now?”

  “A lot, admit it. I lost you seventeen years ago. I don’t want to lose you again. At least give me that much.”

  No power on earth could have kept her from saying, “I love you so much it scares me.”

  “Justine.” Despite her attempt to push him away, he pulled her close. “I’ve waited years to hear those words.”

  Unable to resist, she snuggled closer to his muscled warmth and strength. “I thought I was in love with Andrew, but it’s sweet and gentle, with you it’s different, it’s powerful, fierce, and touches me on every level.”

  “I feel the same way.”

  “But that doesn’t change things, since Andrew is just coming out of a coma. My life and that of his foundation will be under public scrutiny. Please help me. I can’t be strong unless you do.”

  His chest heaved. “You can have tonight, but it’s not over.” His lips brushed gently across her, then she was free.

  Shaken to the very core of her soul, Justine watched him walk away, tearing her world apart.

  Shortly before noon the next day, Dalton entered It’s a Mystery Bookstor
e. He’d given Justine last night, but he had no intention of getting out of her life. She had to learn to be a bit selfish like everyone else. He certainly was going to be. Andrew blew his chance and Dalton didn’t plan on letting him have another one.

  Now if he could convince Justine.

  For a long uninterrupted moment he studied her helping a young mother and child select a book in the children’s section. She’d kneeled down to show the little girl the book, flipping the pages, pointing out the pictures, and reading. The sight made his heart ache. One day he hoped and prayed that she’d do the same with their child. He was going to give it his best shot.

  So far he hadn’t seen her assistant or the manager. He’d picked lunchtime in the hope that he’d be able to talk her into going out for at least a little while.

  She looked up and saw him. The love that shone on her face, in her eyes, before it was quickly banked, did his heart good after a restless night of dreading that it might be all over between them.

  “I’ll be with you in a moment,” she said, her voice a bit unsteady.

  “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

  The young woman with the child looked around as well. She got that awed look on her pretty face that he was becoming very familiar with. “You’re Edgar Gunn!”

  “Guilty.” Walking over, he extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “My husband is a police officer, and he loves your books,” she said, giddy with excitement. “He was on duty and missed your signing. I hate to ask, but could you please sign a book for him . . . if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It’s not. I’ll let you finish, and you can tell me which book later.” He tipped his head. “Nice meeting you.”

  He walked off to the adult fiction section, but he had noticed the thrill in her voice when she talked of meeting him. He loved his fans, but there was only one woman he wanted to hear talk that way about him.

  Justine was so nervous she could hardly help Michelle pick out a book for her young daughter, Cami. Dalton had come back just as he’d said. As she rang up the sale she had to admit she was flattered. What woman wouldn’t want a man like Dalton to fight losing her, but in the end that was just what would happen. There wouldn’t be a happy ending for them now, just as there hadn’t been years ago.

  “Here you go, Michelle.” Justine handed the dark-haired woman the bag containing her purchases, which included a romance novel, An Everlasting Love, by Bette Ford, that she’d picked out for herself. “I hope all of you will enjoy your books.”

  “We will.” Michelle turned to Dalton, who, after signing her book, had gone back to browsing the adult fiction section. “Nice meeting you, and thanks for signing my husband’s book.”

  “You’re welcome. Please tell your husband I appreciate his support.”

  “I will. Good-bye.” Michelle took the small hand of her four-year-old and left the store.

  The door had barely closed before Dalton crossed the room and stood in front of the counter. “You here by yourself?”

  Justine didn’t know why his question made her pulse race. Perhaps because of the barely banked desire she saw in Dalton’s dark eyes. “Yes. Iris is at lunch, and the assistant is sick.”

  “What about your lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry.” The front door opened, and two laughing women came in. “Excuse me.”

  She met the women near the front of the store. “Good morning. Could I help you find anything?”

  “We’re just browsing,” answered one of the women, her gaze following Dalton as he walked past them and out the front door. It closed quietly behind him.

  “Now him you could have helped me with.” They broke into naughty laughter.

  Justine didn’t think the comment was the least bit funny. “I’ll be at the counter if you need anything.” Going to the computer, she began checking stock, occasionally glancing up to see if the women needed anything.

  Lunchtime was unpredictable. They could be busy, slow, or anything in between. Today was slow. She shouldn’t, but she wished the women hadn’t come in. She would have liked to have talked to Dalton. It was torture being so close and not being able to touch, but being away from him was twice as bad.

  The door opened again. Dalton, a plastic sack from a popular restaurant in his hand, came directly to her and handed her the bag, “Eat.”

  She flicked a glance at the women, who had stopped browsing and now watched her like a hawk watched his next meal. “Thank you.” As soon as she took the bag of food, he left.

  Justine wanted to stare after him, but couldn’t. Setting the food aside, she went back to checking stock, making mistakes, and having to repeat steps.

  Her mind was on Dalton. The man she loved, but could never have.

  “We’re in bad shape,” Brianna said, her head resting on the back of the tufted upholstery of the sofa in her great room.

  “You won’t get an argument from me,” Justine said, her voice as miserable as Brianna’s. They’d just finished dinner. “I haven’t seen Dalton in three days. We finally find two good men, and we can’t have them.” She sat up on the sofa. “Correction, I can’t. You’re being too stubborn about Patrick. He’s a great guy.”

  Brianna’s sock-covered feet came off the coffee table and hit the carpeted floor. “You’re talking to the choir here. He pampered me like a baby. He even drops by the office to see how I’m doing.”

  “Then don’t let him get away. Tell him you want more than friendship,” Justine said, aware that she wasn’t in a position to give anyone advice on relationships.

  Brianna’s hand cupped her stomach. “I’m scared. He obviously doesn’t think less of me, but what will happen when I start to show? When people think he’s the daddy, or if he’s repulsed by me when I get as big as his boat.”

  Justine rolled her eyes. “Stop being a lawyer. Stop trying to think of every contingency. Just go after the man you love.”

  “What!” Brianna’s mouth gaped. “How did you know? I just realized myself.”

  “Because when you’re in love it’s easier to see it in other people.” Justine sipped iced tea.

  “You, too,” Brianna said—it was more a statement than a question.

  “Me, too.”

  “We certainly are a pair.” Brianna sipped her decaffeinated Coke. “Both are ex-policemen and good men.”

  “I’m not sure if that doesn’t make it worse.” Justine came upright. “I better go and do penance.”

  Brianna stood with her. “How is it going?”

  Justine looked down before answering. “The doctors are amazed at his progress. He moved his hand yesterday.”

  “The quicker he wakes up, the quicker you can file and end your misery.”

  Justine lifted her head to meet Brianna’s eyes. She was sure the other woman wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “I’ve decided to put off filing until Andrew is out of the hospital and can care for himself.”

  “Are you crazy?” Brianna shouted. “That could be months from now!”

  “It’s not for Andrew,” Justine said. “If I do it sooner, it might jeopardize the firm and the senior citizen complex. I can wait a little longer.”

  “Can you?”

  Justine sighed. “It’s the lie I’m trying to tell myself.”

  The doorbell rang. Brianna’s eyes lit up. Her hand brushed across her hair, smoothed over the salmon-colored loose top and matching pants.

  “The way you’re primping, that’s obviously Patrick, so I’m going.” Justine dragged her bag from the end of the sofa. “I’ll drop by tomorrow with dinner again and this time we’ll drown our sorrows in ice cream.”

  “Deal.” Expecting Patrick, Brianna opened the door. Dalton filled the doorway instead. His gaze snapped from Brianna to Justine.

  “Dal—”

  His mouth cut off the rest of what Justine had been about to say. She didn’t, couldn’t resist. It was like coming home after being away for a long time. Sw
eet. Welcoming.

  “I missed you,” he said when he lifted his head. He nipped her bottom lip. “Missed this.”

  Desire heated her blood. Her nipples puckered beneath the jacket of her suit. “Dalton.”

  “Should I leave the room?” Brianna teased with a smile.

  “Not on your life,” Patrick said.

  Brianna whirled around and almost went into his arms. “Patrick!”

  “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I wanted you two to have these invitations.” Coming in, he closed the door behind him. “Hello, Dalton, Justine.”

  Justine flushed and moved away from Dalton. “Hello, Patrick.”

  “Hey, man,” Dalton said.

  “Here.” Patrick handed invitations in thick red and black envelopes with BLISS printed on the return address to Justine and Brianna. “They’re having a pampering spa thing. I thought both of you would like to go. Before you say no, the shop will close at five to set up. Your invitation says six, an hour before the other guests will arrive.”

  “You did this?” Brianna said.

  “I thought you both could do with some pampering,” he said softly.

  “Thank you.” Brianna’s voice wavered.

  “If you’ll drive out to my place afterward, I’ll have barbecue with my special sauce waiting,” Dalton said.

  “Can you eat heavy foods now?” Patrick asked, his brow knitted in concern.

  Dalton’s eyes narrowed on Brianna. “You sick? I noticed at the news conference you were looking a bit off.”

  Complete silence filled the room and stretched out.

  “She has the flu,” Justine said.

  “She has a virus,” Patrick blurted.

  Dalton’s questioning gaze went from Patrick’s chagrined expression to Justine’s disturbed one before finally coming to rest on Brianna. “Which is it?”

  “Neither,” Brianna said. “I’m pregnant.”

  Dalton’s hard gaze locked on Patrick for a long moment, then his shoulders relaxed and he hugged Brianna to him. “Can I find and kick his butt for you?”

  “That pleasure is mine.” Patrick said, his voice biting and cold.