by Ann Evans
After polishing off a large pizza and two pitchers of soda, Petey and J.D. tore off in the direction of the ball-crawl cage, while Jenna and Mark were left alone at the table. They were seated on bench seats across from each other, and once the boys were out of sight, Jenna turned her attention to Mark.
“Would you mind answering a few questions for me?” she asked.
He cocked his head at her. “You sound like your brother Christopher. But go ahead.”
“Were you really an only child?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been studying up on how to handle children?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“What’s the matter?”
“I was watching the three of you during dinner while you were telling the boys that story about the burglar who got stuck in the air-conditioning duct. You had them…enthralled.”
He looked pleased, but a little embarrassed. “Well, that’s really not too surprising, is it? It’s a funny story. What kid wouldn’t enjoy it?”
“No, I mean it,” she said, realizing that she couldn’t begrudge him an honest compliment. “You were very natural with them.” She dropped her glance for a moment, then brought her eyes back up to meet his. “Much better than I expected.”
“Thanks.”
They sat in silence for several long moments. The room was noisy with customer chatter, and he leaned across the table so that she could hear him better. “You know, it would do my ego an enormous amount of good if you’d stop sounding so amazed when I do something right.”
Her cheeks felt blazing hot. “I’m sorry. I think I must be a suspicious person by nature.”
He grinned and leaned back. Suddenly he rose. “Want anything?” he asked, gesturing at their empty soda glasses, and when she shook her head, he added, “Then sit here and be repentant. I’ll be back.”
She watched him make his way to the order counter. He was every woman’s dream. Handsome. Powerful. Confident. But more important on her list of priorities were qualities that made him seem like the kind of man she could admire. He cared about his employees. He didn’t take himself too seriously. He was much better with children than she’d expected. Perhaps even better than he knew.
But she still couldn’t help thinking he was all wrong for her. No matter how he made her feel when he touched her—humming and alive, as if everything within her had been wired with electricity. No matter what he said or did.
The circumstance that had brought them back together again—her pregnancy—was famous for being the shakiest, most flawed foundation for marriage. You didn’t have to look very far to find couples who had wed for this reason—filled with good intentions and foolish hope—only to wind up in divorce court. It was ridiculous to think she and Mark wouldn’t.
And then where would she be? What kind of havoc would that wreak on her family?
He returned to the table, and Jenna straightened with a sigh. This time he sat beside her, facing outward, his elbows propped behind him on the table. He’d bought a draft beer, and by the slight grimace on his face as he took a sip, she could tell it still wasn’t the quality he was used to.
After a few swallows he turned his head to look at her. He was closer than she liked. His nearness made her light-headed.
“My turn to ask questions,” he said. “What was your husband like?”
She stared at her clasped hands, trying to think how to respond. She didn’t mind the question, not really. Her marriage to Jack Rawlins and their subsequent divorce had long since ceased to be an issue. She drew a deep breath and looked at him. “You want the answer I would have given you when we got married? Or how I would have described him a year ago, after the divorce was final?”
“I want to know what made you think marriage to him was desirable.”
She told him. All the little things that had drawn her to Jack. All the ways he’d made her feel special and valued. He’d been a dreamer, impetuous and fun-loving, and he’d encouraged her to fight for independence from her family, something she’d never have accomplished on her own.
When she finished, she gave Mark a rueful look. “Of course, the biggest thing going for Jack Rawlins in my book was that my entire family hated him. He was forbidden fruit from that moment on.”
He sent her a puzzled frown. “This issue you have with your family. After having met them, I can see that they’re very protective of you. But why is that such a bad thing?”
“It’s not bad,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s just frustrating. You were an only child, so you have no idea what it’s like to be the baby of the family. Especially the only girl. Everything you do or say gets second-guessed. No one takes you seriously.” She took a calming breath, realizing how easily she could sound irrational about them. “My brothers and father are in North Carolina right now, getting the family cabin ready for winter. I’m getting ready to make an offer on a house of my own, and I’ll bet you they’re sitting around the dinner table right now debating the best way to talk me out of it.”
“You’re pregnant. You’re unmarried. You have two growing boys on your hands. Now you want to buy a house? Isn’t it understandable that your family would worry about the added stress?”
“I can handle it,” she claimed. “They need to let go.”
“Maybe,” he said in a considering tone, “they haven’t been willing to let go because you weren’t ready to have them let you go.”
She pulled away, casting him an annoyed look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He made a small sound of protest. “I don’t want to fight with you, and I can see I’ve touched a nerve. I’m just saying that your divorce put you through the wringer. You’ve probably had a lot of doubts. Maybe you haven’t been ready to reassert your independence, and your family sensed that. It’s possible, now that you’re eager to go after it, they’ll pull back on their own.”
“They haven’t so far, and my father and brothers aren’t known for picking up subtle hints.”
He shrugged. “Maybe they’ll surprise you.”
“That wouldn’t be a surprise. That would be a heart-stopping shock.”
“I think you underestimate them. I watched them with you at the picnic. They’re crazy about you and your sons. And as annoying as it was to be quizzed like a street criminal about my intentions, it made me kind of envious. When you grow up as an only child, you’d give anything to know there’s someone else on your side.”
“Sometimes they aren’t on your side. Sometimes they’re standing in front of you, blocking your way.”
He shrugged again. “I guess it’s just the different ways we grew up. But I can’t help but think that it would be nice to be part of a family like yours. Knowing where you belong. Who loves you. Who could never hurt you.”
His comments made her look at him more closely. She realized she didn’t know what his family life had been like.
But just as she was about to ask, he said, “You know, if you’re really considering buying a house, I can make that happen. Marry me, and I’ll give you any house you want.”
Jenna sucked in a breath. Money. Was that all he thought she needed? Security? Financial freedom? What about good old-fashioned love between a man and a woman?
With a frustrated shake of her head, she said, “Please don’t say things like that. I’m perfectly aware of how easy your money could make my life. But as attractive as that offer is, you can’t buy me.”
“I’m not trying to. Please don’t feel insulted. I’m only reminding you of the fringe benefits I’m offering.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“All right. Let’s talk about your divorce. Was it ugly?”
That topic of conversation wasn’t much better, but at least it didn’t make her uncomfortable.
“It wasn’t ugly,” she said. “Maybe that’s part of what I resent. The fact that he didn’t care enough to fight for anything from our marriage. Not even the boys. Do
n’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful he didn’t, because I can’t imagine not having them in my life. But it hurt to realize he could turn his back on them—on everything—that easily.”
It surprised her that by the time she finished speaking, a sizable lump had formed in her throat. She was long past regrets over her failed marriage. Or so she’d thought.
An awkward silence descended. She looked down at her plate, fiddled with the slice of pizza she’d barely eaten. It looked cold and unappetizing.
When he leaned closer to her, she drew a sudden, deeper breath. Their eyes met. He searched her face while she went very still.
“Your ex-husband was a damned fool,” he murmured.
A curious fluttering sensation started in the pit of her stomach. Such a silly reaction. He was so close she could see the faint pulse below his jawline. She wanted to press her fingers against it, feel the life thrumming there. What was wrong with her that she could never seem to keep her head around this man?
He grinned. “You’ve got that suspicious look in your eyes.”
“Not suspicious,” she denied reflexively. “Cautious.” She tried to make her voice crisp. She licked her lips, realizing that she’d failed completely. Finally she looked him directly in the eye and admitted, “I don’t want to be hurt again, Mark. You make me feel like I’m sliding downhill very fast—without anything along the way to grab on to.”
He brushed his forefinger with whispery gentleness across her upper lip. They might have been marooned here, just the two of them, for all the notice she took of the people around them. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to grab on to anything. Maybe I’ll be waiting at the bottom, ready to catch you.”
She wanted to move back, but not a cell in her body seemed to be at her command. “I don’t see you there.”
“Maybe you just need to look harder,” he said in a light, teasing voice. When she glanced away, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why? I’m being sincere. I’ve been honest with you from the start about my intentions. There are so many ways I can make you happy, Jenna. And I’m not just talking about the money.”
Desperate to get back on more even footing, she indicated their surroundings with spread hands and a disparaging glance. “What? Give up this lifestyle? How could I?”
He grimaced. “I’ll admit it would be difficult.”
“Bad pizza and weak beer are staples in my family. I can’t see them becoming part of yours.”
He took the final swallow of his beer and made a face as he pushed the empty bottle across the table. “I’m discovering that when the company is right, the most mundane meal becomes a feast.”
She couldn’t help laughing at that. “No wonder you were on the Most Eligible list. Were all of you issued some sort of manual? A Thousand and One Ways to Turn a Girl’s Head?”
“Of course.” He leaned close enough that his voice was only a soft rumble against her ear. “Want to find out what I learned in the chapter on kissing?”
He began to stroke her back slowly, seductively. She straightened, feeling the blood leave her cheeks. “I think we’ve already covered that part.”
“You mean last night? That was just practice.”
“Mark—”
He nuzzled her neck. “Didn’t you say your father was out of town? We could go back to your place, put the kids to bed. Work on our technique.”
A warm wave of dizziness washed over her, but it wasn’t just Mark now. It was something else. Something unknown and frightening. “Mark—”
“Wait until you see what the manual says about fore-play.”
She clutched his arm to keep from swaying. “Mark! Stop!” She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, then opened them again. But the room had started a slow spin, and she couldn’t seem to make it go away. “Get the boys, will you? I want to leave.”
Her tone must have alerted him that something was wrong. He frowned, giving her a sharp, worried look. “What is it?”
“Something’s…not right. I feel sick to my stomach. And a bit faint. I think we should go to the hospital.”
THREE HOURS LATER Mark drove them home from the emergency room. The boys were asleep in the back seat, but that wasn’t the only reason neither she nor Mark barely spoke as he maneuvered the dark streets of Atlanta.
Jenna’s obstetrician had met them at the hospital. The doctor believed her symptoms were caused by nutritional deficiencies, but was concerned about the small amount of bleeding. Jenna had blood work done and was now under orders to spend the next forty-eight hours in bed. She was to rest while they waited for the test results and to see if there was any further bleeding.
Jenna tried not to read too much into the doctor’s expression, the slight hesitations. But the truth was, she was riddled with fear, terrified that she was going to miscarry.
The house she’d grown up in looked oddly cold and uninviting as they pulled into the driveway. She’d forgotten to leave on a light.
The boys roused as Mark came around to her side of the car, indicating he intended to carry her inside. Jenna tried to refuse. It might worry Petey and J.D., and her obstetrician had said she didn’t need to be treated like an invalid. Mark listened to her protests, then ignored them as he lifted her with ease and carried her up the walkway. The boys trudged along in front of them.
She had to admit it felt good to be in his arms. Protected and safe. The way she’d felt at the hospital when he’d held her hand and stroked her arm gently as they’d waited to hear what her doctor had to say. She should have thanked him for those moments, should have told him she was glad he was there with her, but the thick, heavy fear that had settled around her heart had left her speechless.
He took her upstairs and into her bedroom, setting her down on the bed as if she were made of porcelain. She sat up awkwardly, giving him an embarrassed, wobbly smile.
“Sit still,” he instructed. “I’ll put the boys to bed and be right back to help you.”
It was her guess that he wouldn’t be gone long, but she couldn’t bear the idea of him helping her undress. She scooped up her nightgown from the bottom of the bed where she always left it and had just settled it over her hips when he came back into the bedroom.
He frowned to see her sitting on the side of the bed. He sat down beside her, giving her a smile as he tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Damn, I see I’ve missed my opportunity to help you out of your clothes.”
She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t quite manage another smile. Did she look anything like she felt—insubstantial and a little lost?
“Are the boys all right?” she asked. In spite of her repeated assurances to the boys that she was fine, the pair had been white with worry at the hospital.
“They were almost asleep before I got them into bed. Do you want anything to drink?” he asked. “Something to eat?”
She shook her head. The elastic cuff of her nightgown was worn and too loose. She fiddled with it, absorbed in making it stay in place at her wrist.
“Talk to me, Jen,” Mark said softly, running the back of his hand along her arm.
Her chest felt too tight to allow her to answer.
He reached out and began rolling the sleeve of her nightgown up over her wrists. “It’ll be all right,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
She looked at him then. “You don’t know that.”
“I’ve met your family. The McNabs are a hardy bunch.”
He finished pleating her sleeve into place. Wordlessly she offered her other arm and watched his movements. The silence between them grew. Not companionable, but melancholy and lifeless. She felt chilled to the bone, but against her flesh, his touch seemed warm and reviving.
“When I found out I was pregnant,” she said in a quiet tone, “I wanted the problem to just go away. I don’t feel that way now, but I can’t deny that I didn’t want this baby at first.”<
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His head was bowed as he focused on his task, but she saw the corners of his mouth lift ruefully. “So you think you might be punished for having unkind, selfish thoughts? God might take this baby away? I hope that’s just your fear talking, because if it’s not, I’ll be doing a slow roast for the devil.”
“I don’t want to lose this baby, Mark.”
His head jerked up. “You’re not going to,” he said in a calm, steady voice.
So few words. She wanted desperately to believe them. She felt foolishly close to tears. He looked as he always did—self-assured, composed, not a worry in the world. But the skin along the knuckles of his hand were dead white against her royal-blue nightgown.
He finished the second sleeve and gave her hand an indulgent squeeze. Rising, he said, “Time to get under the covers and go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”
She frowned. “You’re coming back?”
“I’m not going anywhere. How comfortable is that couch downstairs?”
“You can’t stay here.”
“Sure I can,” he said, lifting the covers so she could slip between the sheets. “Your father and brothers are out of town. It’s too late to call anyone else. It’s settled.” As though soothing a child, he brushed hair away from her forehead, then planted a quick kiss on her brow. “If you need anything during the night, don’t get up. Just call out. I’m a light sleeper.”
He turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room in darkness. She watched his silhouette move among the shadows of her room.
“Mark…”
“Hmm?” he said from the doorway. The hall light was off, as well, so he was no more than a black ghost against an even blacker void.
“Thank you for staying. I’m sorry you have to sleep downstairs. I mean, the couch is old and awfully uncomfortable, and you’re probably used to the best.”
She heard him chuckle. “I’m not that spoiled. I’ll manage just fine. Go to sleep, Jenna.”
CHAPTER TWELVE