Then she heard a slow, wolfish whistle.
Lily jumped, knocking her head. Rubbing her temple, she emerged from beneath the table, a scathing remark on the tip of her tongue. The remark died on her lips. She looked up to see Eric, grinning and enjoying the view.
“Even at this angle, I didn’t have any trouble recognizing you. How ‘ya doing, Lily,” he drawled.
Lily felt a blush warm her cheeks. Eric towered over her, putting her at a disadvantage. As she stared up at him, his smile deepened. She caught a glimpse of white, even teeth. His brown eyes sparkled with a familiar glint of amusement.
She sat back on her heels and gave him an assessing gaze. Dressed in a wheat-colored suit and a creamy-white shirt topped with a brown silk tie, Eric appeared cool and confident. Lily gave a silent moan. She was kidding herself. He looked good enough to eat. Had he always been this handsome, this delicious? Or was she just noticing him in a different way?
She pushed the troubling thought from her mind. “If you’re here for the wedding, you’re about an hour too early.”
“I’m not here for the wedding. Not exactly, anyway.” He patted his briefcase. “Business.”
“Business?” She frowned. “Eric, you’ve got it all mixed up. This is a wedding, not a divorce.”
“We lawyers never let an opportunity slip away. Have you ever heard the term prenuptial agreement, Lily?”
She covered her ears with her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t spoil my illusions. Since I was a little girl, I’ve associated weddings with one thing—love. I don’t want to hear anything about contracts.”
Adam tsked. “Always the romantic.”
“Don’t knock romantics. They keep me in business, Eric.”
“And it’s your disillusioned romantics that keep me in business.”
Lily struggled to her feet. No small trick in her tight dress.
Eric reached out a hand. “Need some help?”
She stared at him for a moment. She wanted to slap his hand away and make it perfectly clear she was capable of taking care of herself. She bit back the urge. He’s just offering his hand, she reminded herself, not a lifetime commitment of care for her or her baby.
She placed her hand in his, palm against palm. Her breath caught as his warm grip tightened and he pulled her to her feet. The quick motion threw her off-balance. She clung to him until she regained her equilibrium. Staring up into his smiling brown eyes, she realized that she was fighting a losing battle.
For the past two weeks, they’d walked a tightwire of strained emotions. They’d talked on the phone, met for an occasional lunch and pretended nothing had changed between them. They’d gone out of their way to prove they were still good friends.
They were wrong.
Despite the circumstances, together they had created a baby. An undeniably intimate bond held them. For the first time, she felt uncomfortably aware of Eric as more than just a friend. Much more. Quickly she dropped her hand.
“How have you been feeling?” he asked.
“A little queasy. A little tired.” She shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He nodded. “Good.”
He studied her face, then dropped his glance to her flat stomach.
Without thinking, she pressed a hand to her tummy, spreading her fingers protectively.
His eyes shot up to her face. He looked flustered. “I’ve got to go...to collect a couple of signatures, or there won’t be a wedding this afternoon.”
“Then by all means go.” She forced a smile, trying to keep the situation light. She gestured toward the cake. “I want to be paid for this masterpiece.”
He grinned. “Right. Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
He turned. The heels of his brown loafers clicked on the marble floors, echoing his long-legged, confident strides. Soon he disappeared from her view.
She released a shaky breath. Her head felt as though it were spinning. She leaned against the wall, a safe distance from the cake, and wondered if she’d ever be able to look Eric in the eye again and not feel as though her world were being turned upside down.
* * *
“Bob, I don’t usually say this to a man minutes before he’s going to be married, but have you ever considered giving up women?” Eric asked his client, a slightly bald, middle-age man, as they walked toward the living room, where the wedding was to take place. “I’m serious, Bob. This is your third trip down the aisle. And even though we’ve finally worked out a prenuptial agreement, this marriage is going to cost you dearly if it doesn’t work out.”
Bob snorted a laugh. “It’s not going to cost me that much, Eric.”
“Fifty-thousand dollars a year and a condo in West Palm Beach. I’d say that’s a lot.”
Bob stopped and peered into an extravagant, gold-plated mirror. He adjusted the points on his bow tie. “It’s just money, Eric. What good is money if you don’t have love?”
“I grew up without money, Bob. It wasn’t all that great.”
Unwanted memories crowded Eric’s mind. When his father had died, his mother had been left unprepared. Unskilled and minimally educated, she had been forced to work at a low-paying job. Every day had been a constant challenge for her to make ends meet.
While his memories of childhood were happy, he’d never quite forgotten the hand-to-mouth existence that had held his family most of his growing years. The experience left him with an appreciation of the things money could buy. And an understanding of the hardships lack of money could cause.
Early in life, making money became the force that drove him. He had worked hard to put himself through college, then law school. After passing the bar, he’d pushed himself to succeed, to be the best in his field.
A brief flirtation with wedded bliss hadn’t lessened his appreciation of money, as it had for his client. In fact, it had had the opposite effect. His own near brush with marriage had caused him to become protective of his bank account.
Maybe too protective?
He pushed the doubts from his mind. Lily had called him cynical. He considered himself practical. Marriage involved more than two people falling in love. It involved the merging of two different incomes, the spending of assets, the handling of retirement funds...just to name a few. If a person took on a business partner, he’d draw up a contract assuring each party of equal protection in case of disillusionment. Why not think of marriage in the same terms?
This time Lily was wrong, he told himself confidently. With his sensible approach to marriage, he’d make a great husband.
He’d make a great husband?
Eric gave his head a shake, unable to believe the direction his thoughts had taken him. He turned to his client, anxious to distance himself from the man’s dangerously romantic influence. “What I think is beside the point. What’s important is that you’re happy with the prenuptial agreement.”
Bob slapped him on the back. “Of course I am. Now, I insist you stay for the wedding. Maybe some of my happiness will rub off on you and put you in the mood to find yourself a woman to love.”
Eric’s mouth went dry. He swallowed hard at the rising panic. “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I’m too much of a skeptic to believe in the life-altering powers of love. But I will stay for the wedding.”
Minutes later, Eric seated himself in the last row of chairs in the living room. The cavernous room held fifty chairs arranged into two groups, with a wide aisle down the center. As the music started, Eric glanced around.
His gaze rested briefly on the bride. The tall blonde looked elegant, cool. He recalled the weeks they had spent hammering out a prenuptial agreement. When it came to negotiations, the bride could have given a union boss a run for his money. Eric shivered, feeling as though an icy palm had been pressed against his back. He gave this marriage six—maybe seven—months tops.
His gaze wandered. On the opposite side of the room he spotted Lily. Even if he hadn’t known her, s
he would have stood out. Not because of the apricot dress, which clung to her shapely curves. And not because of the auburn hair, which looked like burnished gold in the sunlight streaming through the windows. But because she was the only person in the room crying.
Adam watched as Lily dabbed at the tears falling from her eyes with a white, lacy handkerchief. Even at this distance, he could see that the delicate hankie was soaked.
He stood, crouched to a half-bent position and made his way to the empty chair next to Lily. Lily glanced at him; a look of surprise mixed with embarrassment touched her face. A new flood of tears burst the dam. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a clean, white handkerchief and handed it to her.
Sniffing, she accepted the gift and promptly blew her nose. The noise drew the attention of nearby guests. Heads turned in their direction. Eric glared at those staring. Quickly they turned away.
He leaned close, catching a familiar whiff of wildflowers. “Are you a friend of the bride?” he whispered in her ear.
She shook her head.
“Friend of the groom?”
Again she shook her head.
“Then why are you crying?”
“I can’t help it,” she said in a tear-filled voice. “I always cry at weddings.”
He laughed out loud. Heads turned again. He forced himself to be quiet. “Lily, Lily, Lily, what am I going to do with you? You’re a hopeless romantic.”
Her chin quivered as she jutted it out. “Don’t make fun of me, Eric.”
“Never.”
His amusement faded, only to be replaced with an unexpected bout of tenderness. He draped an arm around her shoulder, squeezing it gently. In a heartbeat, he realized how right it felt to be there, touching her, comforting her.
Lily Gerard was like no woman he’d ever met.
They were as opposite as two people could possibly be. She was an optimist with a heart of pure gold. He was a skeptic, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He looked at this wedding and saw a nightmare in the making. She saw a fairy tale.
She was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy, predictable world.
His hand stilled on her shoulder. With the force of a lightning bolt striking on a clear and sunny day, the realization hit him, taking his breath away. He’d finally figured out why he couldn’t look Lily in the eye without a lump of guilt lodging in his throat.
Lily deserved the fairy tale.
She deserved the happily-ever-after ending.
She deserved a husband to go along with the child she was carrying.
Chapter Five
Eric’s grip on her shoulder tightened. Through a veil of tears, Lily studied him. He was staring straight ahead at the bride and groom, his eyes wide, unblinking. His dark features had taken on a pale cast. He appeared positively green around the edges.
“Something wrong, Eric? You look sick.”
“I must be, if I think what I think I’m thinking,” he muttered.
She narrowed her eyes. “You want to run that by me again?”
“Never mind.” He gave his head a slow, disbelieving shake. “I’ve got to get out of here. Get some fresh air. The walls are starting to close in on me.” He rose from his chair, then stopped, frowning. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”
She nodded. “But are you sure—”
“I’m fine, just feeling a little claustrophobic. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Seven,” she repeated, watching as he half walked, half ran from the living room.
If Eric was claustrophobic about anything, it was weddings. Usually he avoided the gatherings like a bad case of the hives. She glanced at the bride and groom kissing at the front of the room and smiled. All this love and happiness must have been too much for the cynical side of Eric. Poor boy, it’ll probably take him hours to recover.
* * *
Hours later, Eric didn’t seem much better. Dressed casually in white pants and dark polo shirt, he looked the part of a man about to have dinner with an old friend. But he acted as skittish as a tumbleweed dancing across the desert floor.
The Mexican restaurant he suggested for dinner was a favorite of theirs, a place they’d frequented often. Lily took his choice as a good sign. She hoped this meant Eric was ready for their relationship to return to normal. The way it was before she’d become pregnant.
Dimly lit, with rough stone floors and primitive wood chairs and tables, the restaurant exuded an Old World romance. Lily sipped a glass of water as she lingered over her menu. The dishes were all so good she always had a hard time deciding what to order.
Eric, on the other hand, opened his menu, gave it a cursory glance, then snapped it shut. She glanced at him as he sat impatiently drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
Lily closed her menu. As though on cue, a slender, dark-haired waitress came to take their orders. Eric ordered a taco salad. Lily’s bouts with queasiness were becoming less frequent. When they did crop up, they occurred in the mornings. By evening she was starving. She ordered a sampler platter of chimichangas, tacos, enchiladas and refried beans.
Eric eyed her skeptically after the waitress left. “That’s a lot of food. I take it you aren’t sick anymore?”
She dug a tortilla chip into a bowl of salsa. “I told you at the wedding—I’m feeling much better. In fact, lately I’ve been hungry all the time.”
“Uh-huh.”
The closest thing she’d seen to a smile since the evening began teased his lips.
“Next thing you know you’ll be gaining weight, too.”
Her chin jutted out. “Is that supposed to be a hint?”
“Not at all.”
He blessed her with a full, easy smile, melting any lingering doubts she may have had. She had a feeling this evening was going to be special.
“This may sound like a cliché, but pregnancy agrees with you, Lily. You look great.”
“Thank you,” she said, blushing at the unexpected compliment.
As quickly as it had formed, Eric’s smile faded. Once again, he returned to the nervous habit of drumming his fingers on the table.
“Eric, what’s wrong?” she asked, sighing. “You’ve been acting so odd since the wedding this afternoon.”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just...” He muttered an oath. “I was going to wait until after dinner to ask you, but I guess now is as good a time as any.”
“Ask me what?”
“Actually it’s more of a proposition.”
She frowned. “What sort of proposition?”
“Don’t worry, Lily. It’s strictly business.” He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and withdrew a yellow sheet of paper, unfolding it as he spoke. “I’ll be honest, Lily. I’ve been trying not to let it bother me. But dealing with your pregnancy has left me feeling a little uncomfortable.”
“So that’s what all this nervousness has been about,” she said, collapsing against the back of her chair. “I wondered how long it would take before the old Eric Mitchell would resurface.”
“Excuse me?”
“This idea of yours...wanting to help me with my pregnancy. You’ve finally realized you aren’t cut out for the job.” She smiled at the stunned look on his face. “Don’t worry, Eric. I’m not angry. In fact, I’m relieved.”
The expression on his face—surprise, now mixed with anger?—stopped her.
“You’re relieved that I’m trying to back out of my promise to help you with your pregnancy?”
Her smile faded. “I don’t blame you, Eric. You can’t push yourself into being something you just aren’t.”
“And what would that be?”
Lily shifted in her chair. “Let’s just say it’s been a bit out of character for you to be so attentive, so responsible.” The words tumbled out in a rush. “Not that I’ve minded. It’s been nice having someone to fuss over me. But now it’s time for things to get back to normal.”
“Normal?”
“Well, maybe not normal. I mean, I am st
ill pregnant. And if something comes up I’d like to be able to count on your help. But I don’t want you to feel obligated to check up on me so often. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.” She swallowed hard. “Like dating again.”
He raised a brow. “You want me to see other women?”
She leaned closer, her tone confiding. “Eric, when I asked you to be a sperm donor, you had to give up a few—” she cleared her throat “—recreational activities. Now that I’m pregnant, you don’t have to do without...” She paused and glanced around the restaurant, making sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “Eric, you don’t have to be celibate any longer.”
A spark of amusement glinted in his eyes. “What makes you think I’m not already partaking in a few recreational activities?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you?”
She regretted the question as soon as she’d asked it. Early in their relationship, they’d made it an unspoken policy not to discuss each other’s love life. Not that she had a love life to discuss. But she knew Eric saw other women. Lots of other women.
For some reason, discussing Eric’s personal life had always made her uncomfortable. So she never asked for details. Which suited Eric just fine, since he seemed reluctant to share that part of his life with her, also. Nothing had changed this, she told herself sternly. Just because Eric had fathered her child, it didn’t mean he suddenly had to give her an accounting of his comings and goings.
To her growing dismay, Eric didn’t appear offended by her question. Instead he looked pleased.
“No, Lily. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”
His answer left her feeling oddly relieved. A flush of embarrassing heat blossomed on her face. She dropped her eyes to her clenched fingers, unable to face him. “You should, you know. It’s time for you to stop putting your life on hold. You’ve done more than enough for me already.”
“I don’t agree,” he said, his tone sincere.
Her eyes met his. His expression was somber.
“No matter what I do, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. I can’t shake the feeling that I should be doing more to help you...and the baby.”
Hazardous Husband Page 6