She sneaked a sidelong look at him. “We’ll probably be meeting at the hospital.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Her voice rose. “That’s months away! It’s not like you’ll still be stuck with me.”
Her attitude was getting to him. “Damn it, I’m not stuck with you. This is where you should be.”
Her “What?” was almost silent.
“You’re having our baby. I don’t want to be a weekend father, Lina.” He yanked out the keys, unfastened his seat belt and opened the door. “You might try getting used to living with me.”
Her mouth was still hanging open when he got out.
CHAPTER TEN
LINA COULD NOT believe it when Bran slammed his car door before she could so much as get a word out. Her hand shook as she unlatched her own seat belt and grabbed her swim bag. The minute Bran opened the passenger door to let her out, she said, “You cannot be serious.”
“I’m serious about getting you safely into the apartment,” he snapped. “Pay attention.”
Fuming, she let him hustle her into the building and up to the fourth floor. His relentless concentration didn’t ease up until they were inside the apartment and he was locking the door behind them.
Lina stalked as far as the kitchen table, dropped her bag and turned to confront him, arms crossed. “What, you think you own the baby now? And, gosh, better keep the brood mare close to the barn to be sure she doesn’t wander off?”
Muscles knotted in his jaw, he flung his wet towel and suit toward the counter. “You’re pregnant. I want us to get married.”
She laughed in disbelief, even though boiling up underneath was...something else. “You’re crazy. This is not the 1950s. Single motherhood isn’t scandalous anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Is single motherhood what you really want?”
Her mouth opened and closed.
“You really think people don’t still get married because they’re having a baby together?”
“Want to bet on how many of those marriages make it? Or what the kids go through with the divorce?”
“You mean, divided custody? Isn’t that what you’re suggesting?”
“But this is different!” She struggled to calm herself. “We don’t have to be hostile.”
“You’re yelling. That sounds pretty damn hostile to me.”
He, of course, wasn’t yelling. Instead, his expression had become remote. That stone face was probably useful on the job. When Bran’s brother lost his temper the other night, he probably hadn’t liked that cool stare any better than Lina did.
She’d quit believing Bran was just unemotional. She’d almost cried at what she saw on his face while he listened to their baby’s heartbeat. He’d just become good at putting a lid on all those things he didn’t want to feel.
She had the strange thought that his anger the night she’d got him to spill all the stuff about his sister was hopeful. His emotions had swung wildly. In reliving an awful part of his life, he had gone to an emotional place he hated. For her.
Still, she tried logic again now. “It makes no sense to tie ourselves together just because we’re having a baby. We can be good parents without—”
Blue eyes glittering, he paced toward her; she retreated, without daring to look over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t run into anything.
“When I make a promise, I keep it,” he said softly, which did not make what he said sound any less menacing. “I want a family.”
She quit backing away and stood her ground. “As a replacement to the one you thought you had lined up? And, oh so conveniently, this one comes with a baby already on the way?”
He was smart enough to look wary.
“A baby—” her voice began to rise “—conceived on your wedding day?”
It was as if all the tumult created when she set her eyes on that invitation, swirled with bitterness when she did the first pregnancy test, had turned into a poison that flooded her now. Her hands knotted into fists. Her skin burned. She wanted to hurt him for thinking an “Oh, sorry, I screwed up, but let’s tie the knot now” would be good enough. She was glad to see his shock.
Only...she didn’t just see shock. Was that...grief deepening the lines on his face, aging him before her eyes?
“So that’s it?” he said after a minute. “You can’t get past the timing?”
Her fingernails bit into her palms. “I don’t know.”
“You dislike me.”
She had to swallow at that. “No,” she whispered.
“But you can’t imagine living with me, sharing a bed with me.” He didn’t say, a life, but he might as well have.
Her retreating anger left her feeling shaky. Lina wanted to clutch at it, but it felt as if it was leaving her for good.
“It’s not that,” she mumbled.
He tipped his head. “Then what is it?”
You don’t love me. The one thing she couldn’t say, because it sounded too much like begging.
“You’re trying to make a family like, I don’t know, picking out blocks and trying to nail them together even if they don’t line up. That’s not how it’s done. If you loved Paige, I won’t be any kind of substitute. Don’t you understand?”
He stared at her, as if she was speaking a foreign language. “I didn’t love Paige,” he said.
“Ever?” she whispered in shock.
His mouth tightened. “I’m almost thirty-eight years old. I wanted a wife, a family.”
“So you did try to assemble one, no emotional attachment required?” Oh, God—that was even worse than she’d imagined.
His face went blank again. Only his mouth tightened. “I suppose I did.”
“Didn’t you learn your lesson?”
Was he even blinking? “Yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means this isn’t the same.”
“Because I’m pregnant?”
“Not...only that.”
“I don’t understand,” Lina had to admit.
Bran thrust his fingers into his damp hair, making it stand up in spikes. “Does it matter? If you’ve made up your mind?”
“Made up my mind about what?” she asked in bewilderment.
Those muscles in his jaw pulsed again. “Me. What else?”
“Bran...we’ve known each other for exactly one week. Plus an evening...and a night,” she added hastily. “So we’ll call it eight days. If I weren’t pregnant, would you have even begun to think about me and marriage in the same scenario?”
Lina wished she could read his expression.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think I would have.”
Because he was stubbornly determined to have that family. But Lina only shook her head.
Whatever he saw on her face made him close down. “I’m sorry I can’t let you go home yet,” he said in a distant tone. He snatched up his towel, dangling from the counter, and the wet suit that had dropped on the floor, and started past Lina.
She had a strange vision: Tess letting herself fall forward in the pool, trusting, despite her darkest fears, that the water would hold her up.
Lina spoke to his back. “I didn’t say no, never.”
He went still, his back rigid.
“Just...that I won’t marry you so fast. Or only because of the baby. That’s not enough for me.” Tell me you love me.
But no, it was too soon. She knew it was, even though she had a very bad feeling she was falling in love with him. Why else would it hurt her so much to see his pain?
Bran turned, very, very slowly. His eyes were a dark navy. “I’ve been trying to let you know me,” he said gruffly.
Lina bit her lip and nodded. He ha
d. Not always gracefully, but she couldn’t deny he’d pushed himself out of his comfort zone.
“Living with you, though...” He cleared his throat. “I want you more than I’ve wanted anything in a very long time.”
Behind the intensity, his phrasing was so careful. Knowing as much as she did now about his childhood, Lina understood. He must have wanted, with all a boy’s heart, for his sister not to have been killed. For his family not to shatter. To not lose his mother forever, and, maybe even more, his brother.
She wouldn’t have believed him if he’d insisted he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything. This...she believed.
Smiling tremulously, Lina said, “I suppose that’s another way we need to get to know each other.”
* * *
HAD HE HEARD RIGHT? Muscles locked, Bran stared at her. She was giving him a chance. Another chance. That should have been enough. He was appalled to discover it wasn’t.
“Do you want me?” he asked harshly.
Her lips parted in surprise. “Of course I do! How could you not know?”
“I wanted to think I did.” He started toward her. When he stopped, inches away, he noticed the damn wet towel and suit in his hand. An easy problem to solve—he tossed them sidelong, not caring where they landed, leaving his hand free to slide beneath her damp hair. When he squeezed her nape, she made a tiny sound that shot right to his groin. He remembered that sound.
“You did just issue an invitation.” This time, he had to be absolutely sure.
Lina nodded, then flung her arms around his neck, bringing her breasts and the swell of her pregnancy into contact with his aroused body. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.
Bran groaned and made the kiss into something more. She was in his arms. She wanted him. She’d said, I didn’t say no, never.
He devoured her mouth before checking himself. Desperate as he was, her belly was a distraction. He kept kissing her, his hands searching restlessly over her body, but he hunched slightly, afraid of crushing the baby.
“Bed,” he managed, when he came up for air. Lying down, he could figure out how to get as close to her as he needed to be.
He had her shirt off before they’d reached the hall, her bra a few steps later. Her already generous breasts were definitely larger, the areolae darker. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, unable to tear his gaze from those breasts. He cupped them, and finally bent to nuzzle them. But when she whimpered, Bran needed more.
He tore off his own shirt before he had her backed up to the bed.
“I’m so...” Lina seemed to be trying to cover her stomach with her hands.
“Gorgeous. Ripe.” He had to grit his teeth at how fitting and erotic that word was. Gently, he took her hands and set them on his shoulders, after which he crouched to remove her shoes and socks and peel off her stretchy jeans and panties. Looking up at her naked body, he thought he’d never seen anything so glorious. Her hair was like sunshine tumbling free over her breasts. Her eyes were wide, locked on his. Didn’t she know how beautiful she was?
He spread his own hands over her stomach, rubbing gently, then laid his cheek against it. A soft touch told him Lina was stroking his hair.
Painfully erect, he grimaced as he rose from the crouch. She smiled and reached for the fly of his jeans.
Once he had her in bed, he wallowed in those amazing breasts, teased her with a hand between her legs until she moved restlessly and whimpered, trying to pull him even closer. Finally, he positioned her the way he’d imagined, her legs over his thighs, and pressed against her slick opening. She felt good, so good—
“Don’t stop,” Lina moaned, and he slid home.
* * *
IT WAS AS if she’d been ultrasensitized. Lina hadn’t even dreamed making love could be better than it was that one night, with him. But now, his mouth on her breasts, every touch of his hand, the sense of fullness, combined into a tsunami. Before she knew it, she was tumbling. Bran was all she had to hold on to. And when she came, it was as if her expanded womb served as an echo chamber. She cried out.
At nearly the same instant, Bran went rigid above her, throbbing deep inside her. His groan vibrated in his chest. He started to collapse forward, but caught himself on stiff arms, and rolled to the side instead. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath, but he finally recovered enough to gather her into his arms, her head on his shoulder. She didn’t fit quite the way she had six months ago, but they found a new fit. She could so easily have said, I love you, but restrained herself. For one thing...eight days, remember? She had to be sure. Anyway, no matter how she felt about him, could she marry a man who either refused to let himself love, or who just plain didn’t love her? Lina didn’t know.
“That was a damn good reason to get married,” he said suddenly.
It was, but she shook her head anyway. “Time. Getting to know each other, remember?”
“We’ll be doing that.” He sounded smug.
Because he thought he had a sure thing now?
“Give me a few minutes,” he added.
Lina snickered. “We could talk.”
“I think I’m a little too drunk with pleasure to talk.” He was quiet for a minute. “What do you suppose that felt like? For the baby, I mean?”
“I suspect not that much different from when I’m housecleaning or swimming. Anything reasonably vigorous. She’s well-cushioned, you know.”
“Hmm.”
Lina could feel him thinking.
“Have you thought of a name yet?” he asked cautiously, as if he was afraid of intruding somewhere he didn’t belong.
“No. I’ve looked through baby name books. We do have a while.” She explored the contours of his chest with her fingertips. “Were you thinking you’d like to name her after your mother?”
“God, no!” he said explosively. After a pause, he asked, “Yours?”
“No.” She loved her mother, but... “For one thing, her name is Shari, which is okay, but I don’t love it.”
“Grandmother?”
“Well...maybe as a middle name, although probably not my maternal grandmother’s. She’s Lorraine Mildred—named after her mother, I think. Dad’s mother is Ellen, which is better. I don’t remember her middle name.” She pushed herself up enough so she could see him and shook back her hair. “What about your grandmother’s?”
“We’d have to go further back if we wanted Irish.” His expression became more guarded. “That’s if she’s going to be a Murphy.”
Lina had thought about this, and already decided. She might not feel close to her family right now, but she had the advantage of having grown up with a stable, essentially loving family. She already felt powerfully connected to her baby. Given Bran’s broken family, she sensed that having any children sharing his name would be important to him, which made it no contest. Maybe she, too, wanted the link to Bran. Because I love him.
“I like Murphy,” she said simply.
He reared up enough to kiss her. “Dad’s grandmother was Siobhan,” he said, spelling it for her. “She’d spend the rest of her life telling people how to pronounce her name.”
Tentatively, Lina said, “Were you thinking of your sister? Sheila is pretty.”
He lay staring up at the ceiling for a long moment before shaking his head. “I think it would always make me sad.”
“That makes sense.” She thought about it for a minute. “Then let’s start afresh. No relative’s name, just something we like.”
“Good.” He kissed her again, with more intent this time. “I think we’ve talked enough.”
She slid a hand down his hard belly, following the downy line of hair, and murmured against his mouth, “Oh, I think so, too.”
* * *
“YEAH, I’VE SEEN HIM, but I don’t know who he
is,” the deputy said plaintively, handing the poster Lina and the artist had created back to Zach.
Bran sat back in his chair, aware that all movement around him had ceased. Warring half turned from his desk, while the other two detectives and the clerk had stopped speaking.
Bran groped for the deputy’s name. He knew everyone in the department, but some not as well as others. He might never have worked the same shift with the guy, and if none of his investigations had so far involved... His gaze dropped to the badge. Karl Ingebretsen. Yeah.
“Do you remember the circumstances?” Bran asked, with more patience than he felt. “And how long ago?”
Ingebretsen was in his early forties, at a guess, and still fit. His brow furrowed in thought. “Had to be a year ago.” He shrugged. “A year and a half?”
“I take it you didn’t arrest him?”
The other man shook his head. “He was a bystander, really. It was a domestic, I remember that. The usual, a neighbor called, heard yelling and a woman scream. I knock on the door, the wife says nonsense, they had the television on too loud. See, they had company. He was the company. Just a guy standing behind the couple, listening. He didn’t say anything. My gut told me the woman was lying, but what can you do? I apologized for disturbing them and left.”
There wasn’t anything else the guy could have done. Bran had been on too many calls like that. If there was no visible sign of injury and everybody insisted everything was okay, you did your best to shrug off the fear that the next time you came to this address, somebody would be badly hurt or even dead, and you’d think if only.
For once, nobody’s phone rang. Everyone in the bullpen held their silence, gripped by the possibility of an ID on the perpetrator of one of the worst crimes ever committed in their jurisdiction.
“Could you find the house?”
The deputy shook his head decisively. “Not a chance. You have to know how many of those calls I answer. Nothing stood out about that one. I’m surprised the guy even looked familiar, and I could recall when I’d seen him. I can’t picture the woman’s face, or her husband’s. I know I’d never been there before.”
Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set Page 15