by Tawny Taylor
“I’m not apologizing for that. I’m apologizing for ruining your wedding, your plans, your marriage.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, not following her. “You haven’t ruined anything.”
“I’m pregnant.”
It took a few moments for the words to strike home, much like it took for pain to set in after taking a hard kick in the gut. But when they did, he was just as dizzy and breathless.
She added, “I thought you would want to know. I’m keeping the child. I’m guessing you’ll want me to get an abortion, but . . . I can’t do that. It goes against everything I believe in.”
A million thoughts raced through his mind. She was pregnant. Pregnant! With his child. It had to be his child, didn’t it?
He didn’t want to ask. Only assholes asked that question, but he needed to be sure. How could he put it so he wouldn’t sound like a fucking jerk?
“It’s yours,” she said as if reading his mind. “I haven’t had sex with anyone but you in a long, long time.” She was shaking even more now, and he ached to gather her into his arms and tell her that he was happy about her news. Ecstatic.
Suddenly a huge weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He wouldn’t have to marry Angela now. Surely this meant Michelle would marry him. She had to. She was carrying his child.
“Michelle.” He reached for her.
She scurried away, pressing her back against the brick building. “Tage, I’ve thought long and hard about this. You shouldn’t break your engagement with Angela.”
What the hell? He stepped toward her. “But—”
She lifted both hands, holding them palm out, to keep him back. “Angela wants to marry you.”
“Yes, but—”
“She’s counting on marrying you.”
Dammit, he knew that, too. He did. But he didn’t want to marry Angela. He wanted to marry this beautiful, sweet, wonderful woman in front of him now. This was the woman he wanted to vow to protect and cherish. This was the woman he wanted to wake up next to every morning. This was the woman he wanted to be the mother of his children.
“Michelle, I wanted to marry you from the start. It’s you I wanted. It’s you I still want now.”
Michelle was in hell. There was no other way to describe it. What horrible thing had she done to deserve this?
She was pregnant.
She was alone.
She was terrified and confused.
The father of her child seemed eager to abandon his plans to marry another woman so he could marry her. That was all fine and dandy except for the fact that she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry him, and she felt awful about him breaking his engagement to Angela. Angela had very compelling reasons for marrying him. And she knew what she was getting into. And she was okay with marrying a man she didn’t love.
Michelle, on the other hand, wasn’t sure she could say the same thing.
What the hell was she going to do?
The honorable thing would be for her to have the child and then turn him or her over to the father and his wife to raise. That way Tage would have the child he seemed to be so anxious to have. And she would be free of the burden of raising a child on her own.
Yes, that would be a good and honorable thing to do. But the thought of turning over her baby to another woman . . . to not be able to hold and comfort him when he was crying . . . to miss all those special moments in his life . . . to hear him call someone else mommy.
Her stomach clenched. She was going to vomit again. She was still in the earliest weeks of pregnancy. If the nausea was from her pregnancy (which she hoped it was not), she didn’t want to think about the remaining thirty-something weeks she had ahead.
As bile surged up her throat, she spun away from Tage. He wrapped a protective arm around her middle, supporting her gently as she retched until her eyes were watering. When she was through, she moved away from him again. It was too hard to think when he was touching her. Too hard to be objective.
“Have you seen a doctor?” he asked, sounding worried. He handed her a cloth, and she accepted it.
“Not yet.” She dabbed at her mouth. “My appointment is next week.”
“Have you been sick like this for long?”
“Just the last couple of days. I think I have a touch of the flu or food poisoning or something.”
“But you haven’t seen a doctor?”
“I’ve been eating crackers and drinking lots of fluids.”
He grunted. “You’ll see my doctor. As soon as possible. Come with me.” He grabbed her arm.
“What? Wait.” She yanked on her arm, but he didn’t let go. “Where are we going?”
He tilted his head toward the parking lot. “I’m taking you home. My home. I don’t want you to be alone. My brothers’ wives will care for you until we can get a doctor to look at you in the morning.”
“That’s not necessary. I can go home—”
“I said, you’re going to my home.”
His tone was like barbs raking over her nerves. How dare he try to tell her what to do after everything he’d put her through? “Now, wait a minute!” She dug in her heels and crossed her arms over her chest.
He took one look at her, growled, literally, and then scooped her off her feet and carried her around the side of the building.
She had a healthy respect for her condition, so she didn’t physically fight him. But she called him every curse word she knew. Then she made up a few. But she received absolutely no response. None.
He plopped her in the passenger seat of yet another sleek black car. As he circled around to the driver’s side, she hit the power locks, locking him out. But the locks clicked open before he’d reached his door.
Stupid keyless entry.
“You’re being an asshole,” she yelled as he folded his big frame into the driver’s seat.
“Am I?”
“Yes. I said I didn’t want to go to your house. This is kidnapping.”
“Is it?”
What was with the effing questions? “Yes, and you know it.” He merely shrugged and, ignoring his ringing cell phone, steered out of the parking spot. Within seconds, the car was zooming down the road, toward his house, wherever that was.
His phone rang a second time.
“That’s probably Angela,” she told him. “You kind of abandoned her. At her party. You seem to make a habit of that kind of thing.”
“I’ll talk to her later.”
Jerk.
Asshole.
Michelle decided to try a new tactic. She clamped her mouth shut and sat there fuming in silence. Once he took her to his house, she decided, she’d wait for him to leave, and then she’d call a taxi and go home.
If nothing else, tonight gave her a little glimpse into what might have been if she had been foolish enough to marry this man. He took bossy to a whole new level. She wished Angela best of luck dealing with him for the next thirty to forty years.
About twenty minutes after he had dumped her into the car, the vehicle turned down what appeared to be a private driveway cutting through a patch of dense woods. The drive wound between towering trees and thick shrubs, then curved into an arc in front of a huge stone and wood house.
The place was gorgeous.
But she didn’t say a word. Not when he parked. Or when he ran around to get her door just as she was pushing it open. Or when he escorted her up the walk toward the house, acting as if she was about to collapse at any moment.
She had a little touch of the stomach flu, for crying out loud. She was not mortally injured.
His phone rang again. If she were Angela, she’d be really angry by now. He was going to catch it from two women tonight.
Well-deserved.
She almost chuckled as she imagined him getting a tongue lashing from Angela. When she wanted to be, Angela could be a real bitch.
That was probably what he needed in a wife.
“This way. Once I get you settled, I’ll deal with everyone el
se.” Placing a hand on her back, he steered her toward the stairs. “Do you feel well enough to climb stairs?”
She didn’t speak.
Unfortunately, he took her silence as a no, and once again, she found herself being hauled off her feet and carried like a child.
“I can walk, dammit,” she snapped.
“You didn’t say so.” Was that a little touch of amusement she heard in his voice? Better not be.
“I’m mad. I don’t want to talk to you.”
He didn’t put her down until he reached the top of the staircase. When he did, she whirled around and smacked him. Hard.
“Don’t do that again,” she yelled.
His lips twitched, and something sparkled in his eyes. He extended an arm, motioning down the hall. “Your room is this way. I’ll get you settled and then go get my brothers and the girls.”
She had no intention of getting settled. At least, not until she was at home, in her own bed. That sounded really good right now. The stress of being upset and sick had taken its toll. She was starting to feel run-down and weary.
He opened a door and preceded her into a large bedroom furnished with comfortable-looking, solid, well-crafted furnishings. The wood floor was covered with a plush white oriental rug of some kind. It felt very thick under her feet as she tromped to the bed and plopped down.
The mattress was thick, the coverlet smooth. The room looked expensive and luxurious. This was the lifestyle Angela would marry into. She was going to be very happy. No more worries about being poor and hungry for that girl.
She smoothed her hand over the cover.
“Before I leave I’ll bring you something to drink and maybe a little snack. You need to keep up your strength and not become dehydrated,” Tage said as he hurried about the room, closing drapes and pulling open the closet doors. “Let me see if I can find you something comfortable to sleep in.”
“No need for that,” she said.
“Oh. Do you prefer sleeping nude?”
Her face heated instantly as his gaze met hers. “No.”
In the walk-in closet he plunged his hand into a drawer. “How about a T-shirt? This one is big enough to reach your thighs.” He held up a ginormous shirt. It was big enough to fit two of her in it.
“That’s fine.”
“Good. Go ahead and change for bed. There are fresh towels in the bathroom and some new toothbrushes on the counter. Then I’ll get you something to eat.”
She waved him back, before he’d made it to the door. “Maybe the snack could wait until tomorrow? I’m getting tired.”
His brows pinched. “I won’t keep you up for long. I just want to make sure you don’t get dehydrated.”
Off he went.
She looked at the shirt in her hands, then at the big, extremely comfortable-looking bed stretched out behind her. And then she glanced at the clock.
It was almost ten. It was no wonder she was tired. Lately, she’d been konking out at nine o’clock. She didn’t have to work tomorrow. It was Saturday. Would it be such a bad idea to spend the night here and then go home in the morning?
Maybe not.
As long as he kept his hands to himself.
17
His hand was running up her thigh, and Michelle squirmed as her need grew. She was hot. Burning up. Her need was like a fever, raging through her body, making it tight. Wet. Sighing, she rolled onto her back, offering him full access to every part, her stomach, her breasts, between her legs. His touch was gentle, patient, an exploration. A soft caress. It glided up from her stomach to her breast. She moaned as his hand cupped it, his palm warming her nipple.
Yes. Take me.
His hand moved to her other breast. She felt her spine arching, lifting her breasts up.
“You’re mine,” she heard him whisper. “Mine. Forever.”
Oh shit. She wasn’t dreaming.
She blinked open her eyes.
The room was dark, but she could see him. He was lying beside her, his head propped up on one hand, elbow bent, the other resting on her right breast.
“What the hell?” She jerked. When he didn’t move his hand, she knocked it away.
“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?” he asked.
Was that a chuckle she heard? He was laughing?
“You were fondling me while I was sleeping, you sicko.”
“I thought you were awake.”
“Bullshit.”
His brows lifted. So did the corners of his mouth. He thought this was funny, eh. She would show him funny.
“You’re sick!” Grabbing the covers and holding them against her chest, she sat up and stabbed a finger toward the door. “Get. Out.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Too bad,” she snapped.
“This is my bed.”
“Fine. Then I’ll leave.” Taking the covers with her, she pushed off the mattress and hurried toward the door, tripping over the blankets and sheets as she ran. She made it to within a few feet of the exit before he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back until her backside was flush to his front side.
She froze. There was a very large, very prominent protuberance poking at her buttocks.
“You’re . . . nude?”
“Yes, of course. This is my home. My bed. I don’t sleep in my clothes.”
Wow, that poke felt kind of good. So did having him hold her like that, feeling his heat seeping in through her pores, flooding her system.
She wriggled, trying to get away from him. He released her, but only after she fought him for several seconds. “You didn’t tell me this was your bed. I assumed it was a guest room,” she snapped as she stomped toward the door.
“Ah, I understand the confusion then. I couldn’t give you a guest room. All of our bedrooms are currently in use. And since you were ill, I didn’t think you would want to sleep on a couch. You would have too far to go to get to a bathroom.”
At the exit, she whirled around to say, “Well, isn’t that kind of you, thinking of my comfort.” Her gaze snapped to his groin before jerking up to his face. Even in the dark, he looked magnificent. And his cock... his erect cock...
His lips curled into a wider grin. “Yes, it was kind of me.”
Cocky bastard. He caught her looking down there. Don’t do it again. Don’t. She felt her eyes drifting south. “So what stopped you from taking the couch?” she asked his belly button.
He paused, then nodded, his expression sobering. “Selfishness. I came in here to get a blanket, and you looked so warm and soft. I thought I would join you for just a minute, but you cuddled up to me, and it felt so damn good, I didn’t want to leave. And to be honest, I did try to get up, but you held on to me.”
“I cuddled up to you?” she asked, recalling, with some horror, little bits of her dream. Had she done anything to encourage him? Had she writhed against him, moaned? Opened her legs? Begged him to take her? “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.” His gaze flicked to her breasts, which were covered at the moment but still tingling from his touch. “And you know it.”
“I do not.” Dammit, her face was burning with shame. How could she be such a hussy? “I was asleep. I don’t know what I was doing while I was sleeping.” The blanket was falling. She yanked it up higher, clutching it in her fists. “The bottom line is, what you did was totally out of line. I am a guest. Do you sneak into the room every time you have a guest and fondle their breasts while they’re sleeping?”
“Aha! You remember me fondling your breasts. See? You were awake.”
“No, I was not. That was just... a lucky guess.” It was a good thing the lights were out. He couldn’t see how red her face must be.
“Riiiight. A lucky guess. And if you want to know, I do tend to fondle my guests’ breasts. And they generally love it.”
“That was a stupid question.”
He chuckled.
She didn’t want to like the way the deep sound filled the room. Or how it vibrated throu
gh her body. But she did. Despite the fact that he was slightly creepy, climbing into bed with her, nude, messing with her while she slept, she couldn’t help noticing how glorious his body was, how insanely gorgeous his face was, how his eyes sparkled when she said something that amused him.
He was too sexy. He was dangerous.
Still standing at the door, she cleared her throat. “I’m feeling better. I should go home now.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She flipped on a light.
Mistake.
There he was, all six feet something of him. Now well illuminated. His chest. That stomach. The shoulders. That... thick, hard cock.
“Like what you see?” he asked, his smile cranked up to full wattage.
“You’re an arrogant ass.”
“It was an honest question.”
“It was not. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I like or don’t like. You’re marrying Angela. I shouldn’t be seeing you nude. And you shouldn’t be lying in bed with me.”
“Well, Michelle, there’s a little problem with that plan. Angela broke our engagement last night.”
She shook a finger at him. “She probably got mad at you for leaving the party. Those kinds of things tend to piss off a girl. She’ll change her mind in the morning.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.” He wasn’t looking very upset about the broken engagement.
“Most definitely.”
Their gazes tangled and a suspicion flashed through her mind. “You didn’t tell her about the baby.”
“Of course I did.”
“You asshole.” She tossed her hands in the air. The blankets fell to the floor, but she didn’t care. She was too furious to give a damn about them. “How could you do that to her?”
“She deserved to know the truth.”
“You have no idea how much you’ve hurt her.”
“Would lying to her be better?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he continued, “You were going to tell her eventually, correct? She would find out. Wasn’t it better for her to know that her ‘best friend’ was pregnant with her husband’s child before she said her vows?”
Dammit, he was right. She sagged against the closed door. “But that wasn’t how I wanted her to find out.”