The Bachelor Takes a Wife

by Jackie Merritt

  He cleared his throat in an attempt to ignore—and reverse, if possible—what was happening in his pants. “You should either let me come in or shut the door in my face. It’s hotter than hell out here and your air conditioners are running full throttle.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re right,” she mumbled. One didn’t stand with the door open in hot weather in Texas or, she supposed, any other place where temperatures soared above the century mark. She stepped back and opened the door wider. “Come in…but as impolite as it sounds I have to say that you can’t stay for long.”

  He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. “I hope you understand. I believe I mentioned having plans for the weekend when you called the other night.”

  “I understand more than you think.”

  She stiffened from sudden fear. He didn’t know about the baby, did he? How could he know? Deciding that he couldn’t and it was ridiculous even to think he might, she asked coolly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing and it wasn’t true, anyhow. Andy, I don’t understand a damn thing that’s been happening between us. Okay, you have plans and I won’t ask you to break a date. But how about later on today? Or this evening? I just want to talk. In fact, I’m being eaten alive by a need to sort things out. I can tell you right now that’s never happened to me before, and I have got to get to the bottom of it.”

  She didn’t completely believe him, but it didn’t matter. If she agreed to another talk, it would probably evolve into the same thing that had occurred between them at the park. She really had to keep her distance from him. “I’m sorry, but I’m sure I won’t be home until quite late this evening.”

  “That’s okay. I could come back then.” He had things to do anyhow, such as talking to the guys and catching up on their recent observations of Dorian. Also, he needed to work on breaking that code of Eric’s.

  “No!”

  “Why not?” He moved in and put his hands on her waist before she could get out of his way. “You don’t have a stitch on under this thing, do you?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she whispered and realized that she was trembling, just from his touch, his scent, his nearness.

  The color of his already dark eyes seemed to get darker. “I want you, but you know that, don’t you?”

  She swallowed nervously. He did want her again. She hadn’t been a one-night stand. Oh, how could a once clear-thinking woman be so confused that she couldn’t tell up from down, or right from wrong?

  He pulled her forward and kissed her hard on the mouth. Then he let go of her. “I promise I won’t do that tonight. I meant it when I said we needed to talk. That’s all we’ll do, I swear it. See you tonight.”

  He walked out of her house and left her standing in her own foyer with a benumbed expression on her face, as though she had no clear concept of what had just taken place.

  Ten

  Andrea was relieved to see so many cars when she arrived at the Vartans’, as she had worried about being the only guest when she wasn’t in a party mood. The presence of others—quite a few, by the look of it—took a major burden off of her.

  She tried to appear relaxed and delighted with pool volleyball and tasty grilled food. Her heart just wasn’t in it, though, and she mostly sat in the shade of the patio roof and thought about the sameness of every function this crowd created and attended. There simply was no excitement in that lovely backyard and it made Andrea sad to realize it, for she had enjoyed these genteel people and their conventional attitudes and well-bred activities for quite some time. Finding fault with them now was terribly unnerving.

  In truth, the word excitement had taken on a whole new meaning for Andrea. It occurred to her with a touch of sadness that she was no longer satisfied with her solitary lifestyle. Most of her friends were married or had seriously committed partners. The few single men in the group were well-read and great conversationalists, but they were…well, dull.

  Andrea flushed. How could she sit there and deem her unwed male friends dull? From behind her dark sunglasses she studied one fellow—Jim Bailey—whom she’d known for years. He had on perfectly hideous bathing trunks that were so long and baggy they reached his bony knees, and he had a caved-in skinny chest with about three hairs more than the few on his balding head. Jim was a super-nice guy, always ready for a long discussion on any subject anyone mentioned, and Andrea liked him, but was he even slightly exciting?

  No one was, she thought dismally. No one but Keith.

  Was he back in town for another romp in his SUV? Maybe he’d class it up a bit by luring her into an actual bed, but the result would be just as degrading if all she was to him was the pushover of the week. Would he treat her differently if he knew she was carrying his child? She honestly didn’t know the answer to that question, which depressed her further.

  Wishing the day away one minute and hoping it would drag on forever the next, Andrea put in hours of phony good cheer and forced smiles with her friends. Around five, the Vartans took cocktail orders from their guests, and Andrea’s request for plain ice water drew some good-natured teasing, which she laughed off.

  Drinking was not normal routine for this crowd’s social affairs, but a pool party was always a bit looser than those events held in more formal settings and it wasn’t long until some of them were dancing to Latin music and having a high old time.

  Andrea was coaxed into dancing a few numbers, but then she returned to her chair in the shade and her ice water. But it had felt good to let go and forget—if briefly—Keith and his brand of excitement and all of the worries and heartaches that had unbalanced her equilibrium since the ball. While the others got sillier and funnier, Andrea mostly watched from her chair on the patio. Even without her complete participation she knew that this party had turned out well for the Vartans.

  It was around seven when she began feeling queasy. She should have gone home hours ago, and would have if Keith hadn’t been lurking in the shadows again. With so much on her mind, Keith asking questions—or making another pass—was more than she’d wanted to deal with. Thus, she had stayed outdoors longer than she should have. The heat was stifling, even in the shade, and her occasional dips into the pool to cool off hadn’t done much good.

  Making the rounds she said goodbye to everyone and then shocked herself and her friends by getting so dizzy she reeled and nearly fell flat on her face. No one laughed. They rushed to help her to a chair, to ask how she felt, to talk about heat sickness, to comment that she must not have felt all that great all day because, after all, she’d refused even a glass of chilled wine. Andrea hemmed and hawed and finally said something about the heat being a little much for her today, then announced that she was fine now and really should go home.

  But everyone agreed that she shouldn’t be driving. Not when she was already dizzy, for heaven’s sake. She really couldn’t argue that point, not when she felt like hell and longed almost desperately for the cool comfort of her bedroom.

  And so she left her car at the Vartans’ and let Harry Vartan drive her home. Andrea tried to focus on him as he chatted, but her head was spinning too much to concentrate on anything. Harry walked her to the door of her house, unlocked it for her and then asked, “Are you going to be okay if I leave now?”

  “Yes. I just need to lie down.” Her head had started throbbing painfully, also caused by the heat, she was sure, and she blessed the obstetrician she’d seen for giving her some samples of safe medication in case of a headache.

  “Are you sure?” Harry asked. “I could come in and check the house for intruders, if you’d like.”

  “Thanks, Harry, but my security system is very good.” Even lightheaded and unfocused she managed to press the right sequence of numbers to disarm the security system.

  “Well, if you’re sure. Linda and I will drive your car over tomorrow.”

  “Thank you. Good night.” She shut the door and then stumbled her way through the house to her bedroom. Doffing her swimsuit,
she fell on the bed without a stitch. Her ceiling fan was running and the moving air felt cool and wonderful on her hot skin. Even without medication she began feeling better. And sleepy, she realized drowsily. Very, very sleepy.

  She was almost asleep when the front doorbell chimed. “Go away,” she mumbled, for she was in that lovely zone of half sleep, utterly relaxed and almost floating.

  A few minutes later she heard someone rapping on the French doors that led from her bedroom to the patio. She opened her eyes to see Keith looking in at her. It was getting dark and she couldn’t clearly make out his expression, but he seemed to be totally mesmerized by the sight of her.

  Keith was mesmerized. Never in a million years could he have imagined Andrea lying on her bed stark naked. He’d come around her house because she hadn’t answered the doorbell. Suspecting that she’d decided not to see him tonight and swearing not to let her get away with it, he’d knocked on every door he’d come to.

  This was the big-prize door, he realized. He’d hit the jackpot with this one, because there she was, naked, incredibly beautiful and…and… He frowned, because she was just lying there, not in a panic because he was outside filling his eyes, or even acting as though she was aware that he was outside. What was wrong with her? Something was. The Andrea he knew wouldn’t just lie there and let a man—any man—watch her when she was naked as the day she was born.

  “Hey,” he called, alarmed now, and he rapped on the French door again.

  “Go away!” Andrea yelled. She honestly didn’t care if he saw her naked; she cared that he was out there trying to get in!

  Keith’s jaw dropped. “What’s wrong with you?” he called. “Are you sick or something?” Pounding on the door he called her name. “Open up, Andy, or I’ll call the police.”

  He’d call the police? What on earth for? She tried to make sense of his threat, but she couldn’t do it. Suddenly furious, she slid off the bed, walked to the door and unlocked it.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded to know when the door was open.

  Keith stepped inside. “What the hell are you doing?” he retorted. Was she drunk, he wondered. But no, she didn’t look, act or sound tipsy. “Apparently you had a good time today.”

  “So what if I did? What’re you doing here?”

  “We had a date.”

  “We most certainly did not!” Her nudity suddenly became an embarrassment, and she turned to go and put something on.

  But Keith had other ideas. “Not yet,” he said softly and stopped her retreat by pulling her into his arms and lowering his lips to hers. The warmth of her struck him hard, and the kiss that had begun soft and gentle became hungry. Holding her naked was an incredible high, and he wanted nothing more than to continue holding her.

  But why in heaven’s name was she naked in the first place? Too curious to ignore the questions stacking up in his mind, he broke the kiss, raised his head and peered at her in the dimming light.

  “Something happened today,” he said. “You’re different.”

  Andrea wished at that moment that she could tell him about the baby. She was dizzy again, she realized, but not from the sun this time, although Keith’s heat was almost as potent.

  “No, I’m not,” she said, denying her difference only because she couldn’t be honest. But she was different, all right, in more ways than one. Standing naked in his arms was so foreign to the woman she’d once been that even she found it hard to believe.

  Keith slowly slid his hands up and down the smooth warm skin of her back. “Why were you lying in the dark like this?” he asked softly.

  Andrea sighed. If she told him one truth she might tell him everything. Besides, they had not had a date tonight. She had not agreed to his coming over and talking tonight. He was being his usual pushy self, and she was letting it happen again!

  “Keith, don’t!” She escaped his embrace and went for a robe.

  Keith walked over to the bathing suit she’d dropped on the floor and picked it up. “It was a bathing-suit party?” he drawled, conveying sarcasm with tone of voice and his most pronounced Texas accent.

  It annoyed Andrea. “Don’t grill me,” she snapped. “Whatever I did today is none of your affair.” She realized that her head was beginning to ache again. What she needed more than anything else right now was a shower. But first she had to get rid of Keith. “Would you please leave? I want a shower, a bite to eat and then a good night’s sleep.”

  “Take your shower. Who’s stopping you?”

  “Damn it, Keith, don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”

  He laughed. “Go take your shower. I’ll wait in the living room…or maybe the kitchen.”

  She gave up. It was either that or stand there and argue with him, and the only time she’d gotten the better of him—and that really hadn’t been an argument—was the night he’d called from Mexico. Maybe her deceit that night was part of the reason she shut up and marched into her bathroom. Without a doubt she was truly sorry about it.

  Twenty minutes later when she exited the bathroom she was so much more alive it seemed a small miracle. Her headache was gone, she had no sign at all of nausea, and, in fact, she even felt a little hungry. The aroma of coffee reminded her that Keith was somewhere in the house, but she felt stronger and more able to deal with him. Figuring there was little point to maidenly modesty after that major-motion-picture nude scene before her shower, she donned a lightweight, knee-length robe, ran her fingers through her still-damp hair and left her bedroom. The odor of coffee became stronger as she walked to the kitchen. It was probably where he was lying in wait of her, she thought dryly.

  She was right on the money. Andrea hesitated at the doorway for a moment and saw a very cozy little scene—Keith seated at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, which still resided where she’d left it that morning. He either heard or sensed her presence because he looked up and smiled.

  “Hi.”

  She walked in and headed for the coffeepot. Her “Hi” wasn’t nearly as friendly as his had been, but at least she hadn’t immediately shrieked at him. She pulled a cup from a cabinet and picked up the coffeepot.

  Keith got up and hurried over to her. “Let me do that. Go over to the table and sit down.”

  “I am perfectly capable of filling a cup with coffee!” She proved it.

  “Fine. Just trying to help. Are you feeling better now?”

  “I’m feeling just fine, and I’m going to have a piece of toast.”

  “Sit down with your coffee and I’ll make your toast.”

  “I don’t have a broken leg, for God’s sake! I’ll make my own toast. You sit down.”

  “Okay, okay, you don’t have to get mad. I was just trying to help.” Keith returned to the table and sat down.

  “Would you like some toast?” she asked stiffly.

  “Sure, I’ll have a piece. Thanks.”

  His thanks annoyed her, as well. Obviously she was easily annoyed tonight, but why wouldn’t she be? Why didn’t Keith just leave? Surely he had to realize how distressing all of this was for her.

  When the toast popped up, she put each slice on its own plate and brought them to the table dry. After getting her coffee she returned to the table and sat down.

  “I’m eating mine dry. If you want butter or jelly, they’re in the refrigerator. Just help yourself.”

  He grinned, got up, went to the refrigerator and then into a drawer, and ultimately returned to the table carrying a jar of strawberry jam and a spoon. Seated again he spooned jam onto his toast.

  Andrea couldn’t help glaring at him. “You seem quite amused over something. Care to share it?”

  “Well, when I first saw you on the bed without a stitch on, I thought you might be tanked.”

  Her voice dripped icicles. “I do not get ‘tanked,’ and for your information, although it’s none of your business, all I drank today was lemonade and ice water.”

  “Maybe you should’ve tried
something stronger. That ice water can be lethal.”

  “Funny, very funny. You probably thought I was looped because you’re so familiar with the malady.”

  “Well, not really. I haven’t overdone it in that department for quite a spell, actually.”

  “How marvelous,” she drawled. “Mr. Perfect.”

  “Now, that hurts. Even if you had been tanked I wouldn’t have judged you for it, Ms. Andy Pandy. And why wouldn’t I think you might have drunk a little too much when you’d been at a bathing-suit party all day?”

  His blatant enjoyment of this discussion was more than Andrea could take and remain calm. “You didn’t know it was a pool party, so don’t pull that high-and-mighty face and act as though I drink at every excuse! I rarely drink, and then it’s only a glass or two of wine.”

  “Hey, don’t you think I know that? The whole town knows it.”

  “Yes, and now the whole town also probably knows you’re here, in my house right now!”

  Keith laughed again. “Not the biggest crime of the century by anyone’s measure,” he remarked. He liked her cosmetic-free face. With her hair finger-combed and no makeup she looked like a young girl. “Andrea, I’m not going to apologize for sticking around in case you needed someone. Before you showered, you looked pretty shaky.”

  She sipped coffee from her cup and dared to meet his eyes. “I’m not shaky now.”

  “I can see you’re not.”

  “Well, doesn’t my excellent physical condition give you any ideas?” She was hoping he would take another extremely unsubtle hint and go home.

  “One or two,” Keith said softly, then just sat and looked at her. Finally, when he could see that she was getting uncomfortable over such a long silence and his unbroken gaze, he changed gears and said, “I was remembering something when you were showering. Do you remember when I filched a bottle of crème de menthe from my father’s liquor cabinet and we drank it in the fort? I think we were about thirteen. You didn’t like it very much and only drank a little but I chugged most of the bottle…playing big man, I suppose. Anyhow, I got sick as a dog and you took care of me. We both knew if I went in the house that sick my folks would cart me off to the emergency room, and then everyone would know that not only had we drunk alcohol but that one of us had stolen it.