A figure stepped out of the hallway. Lucas dropped the pumpkin on the carpet. Daria swayed toward him, clad in a long silk robe.
He stood and his jaw tensed. “What are you doing here?”
She untied the robe and dropped it off her shoulders. Her supple body, naked, shimmered inches from him.
She’s gotta be crazy coming here. Lucas backed toward the door.
She floated toward him, her gaze searing him, steady as a tigress eyeing her prey. Her sultry perfume swarmed the air around him. She took his hand off the doorknob and pressed her breasts against his chest while moving her hips like a belly dancer.
“Daria, please stop.” Lucas’ voice creaked. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but this was too strange.
“You know you want me.” Daria moved his hand from her belly to the ‘V’ between her legs. “You want to touch me so badly.”
Her skin, light like latte, was soft and moist. He jerked his hand back, but she pressed a kiss on his lips. His heart fluttered, as if losing blood, and his groin hardened. Her tongue intruded between his teeth, and he turned his face sharply. Daria was a married woman. And what the hell was his body doing responding to her?
“Stop. Please.” He pushed her away. “I’m in love with someone else.”
“Have you told her about us? What we shared?”
“I’ve told her everything, including what you did to me.”
Daria tossed her long hair his direction and picked up Maryanne’s pumpkin. “Cute. Since you knocked her up, you can do me too.”
“I’m not the father. Put your clothes on and leave.” Anger replacing arousal, Lucas clenched his fists under his crossed arms.
She tried to stare him down, but her allure no longer had any effect on him. He turned his back to her and picked up his iPad to check his e-mail.
Daria huffed to the bedroom. Sounds of someone punching and kicking the bed vibrated through the wall. She had always thrown these wicked tantrums.
Lucas opened a message from Owen, his lawyer. Without the baby’s DNA, the police did not have evidence for the rape charge and he was free to leave the state.
Zach e-mailed him about a job in Colorado. A local rancher ran a summer camp for developmentally delayed teenagers and needed swimming instructors. He replied, taking the job. He’d train with Zach and not return to California until September to acclimatize for Ironman Lake Tahoe.
His stepfather reported that his mother had gone on a drunken rampage when she found out about Maryanne. She wanted Lucas to stay away from the slut who ruined his good name. Other e-mails were from potential sponsorships who told him they could not take him on until he was cleared of all suspicion.
Daria’s heels clicked on the linoleum floor. She dragged an overnighter on wheels.
“You can let yourself out,” Lucas said while scrolling through his messages.
“I don’t know what got into me.” Her voice quivered. “Will you ever forgive me for what I did?”
“You mean just now?” He glared at her.
“No, you know what I mean.”
“Never. You killed my love when you killed my baby. Don’t call me or text me.”
“How can you be so cold to me?” She stepped toward him. “I regret it. I hated you for killing Rico.”
“So you take it out on our baby? Real smart.”
She sank to her knees and grabbed Lucas’ legs. “Can’t you give me another baby? Make it okay again?”
“I can’t. I’m not God. Go back to your husband and check out a fertility specialist.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sobs choked from her throat. “I’m so sorry, Lucas.”
He shoved his phone in his pocket and opened the door. “Get some counseling. I can’t help you.”
“You can forgive me.” She stumbled to her feet. “I’m not evil.”
A lump grew in his throat. He wouldn’t alleviate her pain. No way. Not ever. Let her burn with guilt. “Just go.”
~~~
Maryanne dumped the rest of the cereal in the sink. The food took the edge off her nausea, but nothing could heal the cracks in her heart. What was Lucas doing now? She hadn’t expected him to react with anger.
Her cell rang. Not the 50 Cent ringtone, not Lucas. A female voice asked for her.
“Speaking,” Maryanne replied.
The female smacked her lips. “I’m Sandra, Lucas’ sister.”
A flush of adrenaline washed over Maryanne. “Is everything okay? Is Lucas fine?”
“Depends on what fine means.”
“He was upset when he left my place. Is he safe?”
“Oh, he’s safe all right. In fact, you might want to drop by, not that he’ll let you in.” Sandra paused a pregnant moment. “I left him alone with Daria. I’m sure you know who she is.”
“What’s she doing here?”
“What do you think? She wants him back, and frankly between you and her? I don’t know which one I prefer.”
Maryanne sank to the floor. “Why are you telling me?”
“I thought you should know. What’s wrong with you? Aren’t you going to fight for him?”
“I can’t. I love him, but I’m pregnant with someone else’s baby. It’s not fair for your brother to stand by me when he has his life to live.”
“Hmm… hmm… hmm…” Sandra paused. “Guess you’re right. He ain’t over the other one he lost.”
Maryanne’s phone beeped with another call. “I have a call waiting. Tell Lucas… Well, never mind.”
“Sure, bye,” Sandra said.
Maryanne selected the second call but it hung up as soon as she answered. Withheld number. She threw her phone on the sofa. Lucas couldn’t have invited Daria because he’d been staying in Maryanne’s apartment while she was in the hospital. If Daria showed up, it would be that she was in cahoots with Sandra. She ached to call Lucas and find out, but if he was truly in Daria’s arms, she’d rather not know.
Too tired to think about it, she boiled water for tea. Someone knocked on the door, and her heart skipped. Maybe Lucas was back to apologize for his outburst. She turned the stove off and dried her hands.
She opened the door, and Barry pushed his way in. “We need to talk.”
“Get out.”
He looked around. “Your watchdog isn’t here, I take it. This won’t take long.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Do you want me to take out a restraining order? It won’t look good for a lawyer.”
“Can’t you be civil?” He swept his fingers through his recently cropped hair. “Have you convinced your father to drop the case?”
“My father doesn’t listen to me, besides, I want justice. People can’t abuse me and get away with it.”
His lips twisted into a nasty smirk. “You’re really quite dense, aren’t you?”
Maryanne pushed him toward the door. “I’m not going to take your insults. Leave.”
He crossed his arms and bent to glare at her. “You persist in defaming Lion Ministries and I’ll let everyone know about your abortion.”
“Ever heard about mutually assured destruction?” Maryanne gritted her teeth and clenched her fist. “Lion Ministries would not look so godly with a lawyer who made his nineteen-year-old girlfriend get an abortion. What would Pastor Edwards say if he knew?”
The vein bulged on Barry’s temple. “And what would your Mr. Right-To-Life Lucas Knight have to say?”
He strode to the door and held it open. “I go down, you go down. When that baby’s born black, you’ll be exposed, but until then, you call off that yapping father of yours, or he’s going to know exactly what kind of daughter he has.”
Maryanne slammed the door after Barry and sat on the couch. Every cell inside her screamed to call Lucas, to cry on his shoulders and lean on his arms. She missed him already, the warm touch of his hands and his concerned expression. But she sat frozen on the couch. You don’t grow a backbone overnight, girl. You have to stand on your own. He won’t respect you i
f you cling to him.
The ring box lay on the carpet across the room. She knelt to pick it up. A tear trickled down her cheek and landed on her hand as she opened the box. A promise ring sparkled at her. A dull throb ached in her chest. She shut the box and placed it on the end table. She’d wait for him to get over Daria. It hurt to let him go, but she had to make a clean break. Maybe after the baby’s birth and her life was settled, they could try again.
The phone rang and Maryanne let it go to the answering machine.
“Mar, the hospital says you’re home. Pick up?” Her father’s impatient voice barked.
Maryanne’s legs felt like sludge as she grappled with the handset. “Yes, I’m home.”
“You okay? Need anyone to stay with you?”
“No, Dad. I’m fine, really.” She rested her head on the armrest of the sofa.
“You still have the abortion appointment next week. I can spare a daytrip and accompany you.”
Maryanne rubbed her eyes. “It won’t be necessary.”
There was silence.
“Dad? You still there?”
“Did you lose the baby already? Was the specimen collected properly to not taint the evidence?”
She twisted her hair. A headache radiated between her eyes. “No, I’m still pregnant. I’ve decided not to have the abortion.”
“What? But the lawsuit. The rapist.” Her father’s words popped in rapid succession. “Are you telling me you weren’t raped? That it was a big hoax? I can’t believe this. That black guy knocked you up, didn’t he? When I get my hands on him. You made a fool out of me. I have to pay the lawyer if we don’t win the case.”
Maryanne shuddered, as raw anger pounded in her veins. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. When the baby is born, everyone will know who the rapist is, and it’s not Lucas.”
She slammed the phone in the cradle and swiped tears from her eyes. Her fingers hovered over her cell, but she didn’t call Lucas. She had to face this alone.
Chapter 23
Maryanne sorted through the allergen vials and took out the four needed for her next patient. She slid the tray back in the refrigerator and placed the vials on her table. Ten weeks had passed since she broke up with Lucas. Her baby wiggled and made herself comfortable. Maryanne shifted in her chair. The ligament on the left side of her abdomen was strained, but the baby’s favorite position tucked her there, right under her heart.
Vera tapped her shoulder. “Ready for the spa weekend?”
“Sure, except I don’t have a bathing suit to fit. You haven’t told me where.”
“It’s a surprise, dearie.” Vera sat at her workstation and started her computer.
Maryanne called in the patient, a young woman dressed in a business suit. She made pleasant conversation and remembered to ask after her allergies and how her last shot went. After the patient departed, Maryanne looked at the clock and stepped onto the patio for her break.
She checked Lucas’ blog update on her tablet. They hadn’t spoken after the ring incident, but since he was a public figure, he had a blog and a tweet stream. He’d finished his training in Colorado and was camping near Lake Tahoe for the Ironman race coming up Sunday.
She sent him a tweet: @TriKnight How’re the bugs in your tent? Anyone bite you?
A few minutes later, he replied: @Pumpkingal You been sticking those fire ants in, haven’t you?
Maryanne: @TriKnight Seriously, are you prepared for the race?
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Would be if I wasn’t itching all over. Don’t know what I’m allergic to.
Maryanne: @TriKnight If I were there, I’d rub Benadryl cream all over you.
Lucas: @Pumpkingal The itching will make me go faster. Are you coming to watch?
Maryanne: @TriKnight I can’t, but I read your blog every day. You’re my hero.
Lucas: @Pumpkingal I know, you’re clogging my blog with comments. Does your mother know?
Maryanne: @TriKnight How old do you think I am?
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Who was president when you were born?
Maryanne: @TriKnight Not fair. I don’t remember.
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Ha, ha, you got me. Gotta go. Bike ride, fifty miles.
Maryanne: @TriKnight Geotag your locations? Someday I want to follow your footsteps.
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Okay, I’ll post pictures. Bye.
Maryanne sighed and scrolled through the pictures downloaded from TriKnight’s blog. He had stayed all summer in Boulder at 5,430 feet altitude to raise his red blood count and lactate threshold. His times had improved, especially the biking—his weakest event which was also the longest in a triathlon.
Even though the Olympic triathlon was much shorter than Ironman, Lucas’ plan was to place high enough in the Ironman to get sponsorships, and then begin intensive workouts to increase his power for the shorter distances. So far, he was on target as far as his racing was concerned. However, his name had not been cleared and rumors had it that no one would sponsor him with the rape accusation hanging over his head.
Maryanne checked the OB/Gyn webpage and made an appointment. She signed up for an amniocentesis at twenty weeks to analyze the baby’s DNA and clear Lucas’ name. She navigated to his training page. A picture of him and Zach beamed back at her. How different they were. Zach was blond and sunburned, but Lucas’ skin glowed with a healthy bronze tan. She tapped on the Twitter app when she spied Vera coming toward her.
“Tweeting him again?” Vera pulled up a chair.
“Yes, but he thinks I’m a teeny-bopper trying to flirt with him.”
Vera lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “What would you do if he showed interest? Be jealous of yourself?”
Maryanne closed the cover on her tablet. “He’s free to do whatever he wants.”
“That’s what you tell yourself.” Vera patted Maryanne’s shoulder. “Why won’t you talk to him?”
Maryanne’s cheeks heated and her heart thumped. “I can’t distract him. He’s focused on winning Ironman.”
“Hmm….” Vera blew smoke away from Maryanne’s face. “What if you happen to run into him?”
“Won’t happen.” Maryanne checked her lipstick and patted down her hair. “He’s staying out of range of my electric car.”
“Okay, back to work.” Vera stubbed her cigarette. “You have everything packed? There’s going to be a lot of traffic, so we have to leave right after work.”
“You’re not going to be smoking in the car, are you?” Maryanne placed her hand on her abdomen where the baby kicked.
“No worries,” Vera said. “Jen’s driving her new Mercedes E class. She’ll kill me if I smoke in it.”
~~~
The silver Mercedes headed north on Highway 880 and took the ramp to eastbound Highway 80. A wild hope stirred in Maryanne’s chest. “We’re going to Tahoe?”
“Maybe Reno,” Vera said from the backseat. “We’re not telling, right Jen?”
Jen’s mouth widened with a sly smile. “You’ll get your massage, don’t worry.”
“Yes, and a hot bath, mountain air, plenty of exercise,” Vera added.
“Wait, wait. I thought spas were for relaxing, getting those cucumbers over the eyes and skin and nail treatments.” Maryanne turned on her tablet. “You know, the aromatherapy and body oil.”
“You’ll get plenty of that too, I promise.” Vera giggled. “Especially the body oil.”
Maryanne pointed the web browser to the triathlon event page. “Since we’re up there, maybe we can watch part of the triathlon.”
“Not me,” Vera said. “I’m not standing outside in the hot sun just to see a bunch of sweaty guys jump from swim trunks to bike shorts, although if they wanted me to help them strip, I suppose I could.”
“But wouldn’t Zach be there, you know, the reason you lost the bet?” Maryanne gave Vera an exaggerated smirk.
“Tahoe is a huge lake. We might not even be on the same side as them.”
“I hope not,” Jen said. “I h
ate crowds. I’m seven months pregnant, and all I want to do is sleep.”
Maryanne tapped on her tablet screen. “Tell me where we’re going and I’ll map the best route.”
“Nice try,” Vera said. “Now, take a nap and Jen’ll let you know when we arrive.” She pulled out a bag of yarn and a half-finished afghan.
Maryanne tried to sleep, but she was too wired. She woke up her tablet and checked Lucas’ Twitter feed. He would be loading up on carbs and cutting back his training for the big event on Sunday.
She sent him a tweet: @TriKnight Feeling bloated yet?
His reply came a few minutes later: @Pumpkingal I’m not loading up, just chilling.
Maryanne: @TriKnight What are you doing?”
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Fishing.
Maryanne: @TriKnight Fishing? Is that what great triathletes do?
“There she goes, tweeting her knight in shining armor,” Vera piped from the back seat.
“I thought you guys weren’t talking,” Jen said.
“She’s impersonating a teenager,” Vera said.
“Am not. I’m his biggest fan, that’s all.”
“Oh, and that’s all?” Vera hooted. “You practically stalk him. Downloaded all his photos, geotagged his every move. He even bought a smartphone with GPS and a geotag sharing app. You sure he’s not onto you?”
Maryanne’s cheeks heated. “He’s trying to build a fan base so he’d be attractive to sponsors.”
The tablet made a swishing sound signifying an incoming tweet.
Lucas: @Pumpkingal I’m relaxing. Some guys are partying, but I like to be alone.
Maryanne pointed to her tablet. “Ah… he’s all alone, fishing, can you believe that?”
Maryanne: @TriKnight Catch anything yet?
Lucas: @Pumpkingal No, I’m the worst fisherman ever. But it’s peaceful here. The sun’s setting over the lake.
Maryanne: @TriKnight Wish I could be there. Can you send me a pic?
Lucas: @Pumpkingal Sure, just a sec.
Maryanne looked out the window at the wind farm dotting Livermore pass. The sun’s rays slanted higher here further west than where Lucas was. It would be brighter still at Pescadero Beach.
A swishing sound alerted her. He sent her a majestic picture of a placid lake dotted with pine trees on the bank, muted purples, reds, and orange in the swirly cloudy sky.
Hidden Under Her Heart Page 17