Expressions chased across his face.
His eyes narrowed and seemed to burn with the heat of a sexual flame. She read the thoughts racing through his mind.
What’s the capital of Rhode Island?
Rebecca, here’s Mt. Hood.
You feel so good.
This making-babies business is beautiful.
A flush spread across his cheekbones and his nostrils flared. Rebecca took a step back, crushing the G-string in one fist. Ignoring her retreat, he grabbed her wrist, then looked at the people around them.
“Rebecca’s right. It’s late. We have to go now.” He started pulling her around the table, his fingers like a gentle but immovable vise on her arm.
“Oh, Trent,” Peggy singsonged.
He was parting the crowd with the sheer force of his intent. “What?” He didn’t pause to look at the other woman.
“Aren’t you forgetting your gifts?”
That halted him. “Yes,” he said. “Thanks.” And he swung back, snatched up the red negligee, then towed Rebecca out of the room.
She heard the burst of amused chatter as they exited. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw grins on several faces. Peggy caught her eye, smiled, then sent her a wiggly-fingered wave.
It was the last friendly face Rebecca saw. Trent pulled her out of the hospital so fast that everyone else she encountered was a mere blur. The next thing she knew, she was seat-belted beside him in his car and he was speeding out of the hospital parking lot. Her behind bounced on the leather seat as he took a speed bump without a touch of foot to brake.
She opened her mouth to protest, but then looked at him and thought better of it. Though they’d just left her car in the parking lot, she’d mention the need to retrieve it another time. He was driving with both hands on the wheel, that scrap of satin fabric pooled in his lap. Her fingers loosened on the matching scrap in her hand.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Her gaze jerked toward him. He was staring out the windshield, his expression hard. “I, um, I…” She glanced down at the G-string for inspiration. Such a little thing to have caused her such trouble. At least she assumed that’s what he was angry about. “I was just kidding—”
“You were teasing me, baby, using sex to tease me, and that can be dangerous when my temper’s already frayed.”
His temper was frayed? He was dangerous? To her, he’d appeared to be in glacial control. “Well, I, um, I had no idea you’d had a bad day at work, Trent.”
“A bad day at work? You think I had a bad day at work?”
He repeated it with such quiet precision that she didn’t know what to think. “You didn’t?”
“Baby, my bad day started when I woke up to find you’d run out on me.” He cast her a fuming sidelong look. “I’m accustomed to a little more consideration from my bed partners.”
“Well, I—”
“I happen to think that a good night like we shared deserves a ‘Good morning.’”
“I see—”
“Do you?” He pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Then he turned to stare straight into her eyes. “Then maybe you can see your way to telling me why you took off like that.”
Again, Rebecca’s nerve endings started dancing around to the rhythm of a hip-hop song only they could hear.
His eyes narrowed. “Well?”
Okay, so he wasn’t unaffected by their night together, after all. As a matter of fact, now he looked angry and frustrated and so attractive that she worried he might soon guess the way her skin was heating and her heart was beating.
His nostrils flared again. Oh, yeah, he suspected, all right. And she had the sudden, certain thought that he wasn’t going to think returning to separate bedrooms was the good idea that she did.
Trent lifted an eyebrow.
Rebecca crowded the passenger door.
If he wasn’t so damn mad at her, maybe he’d feel guilty for that apprehensive look on her face. But, hell, they’d made a baby last night and this morning she’d skipped out, treating what they’d had, treating him, like a one-night stand.
“I left messages for you,” he ground out.
Her eyes widened. “You did? I was so busy today I didn’t even think to check.”
He made himself take a deep breath. “What were you thinking, Rebecca?”
She grimaced. “I was hoping you wouldn’t want to take the mature, let’s-discuss-this-new-wrinkle route.”
His head dropped back against the rest. “You don’t have much of an opinion of me, do you?”
“No!” She reached out and touched his arm. “It’s me. I didn’t—don’t know what to say about last night. What to think.”
He looked over at her. Her gaze instantly fell, landing on the ridiculous G-string. “At least you can assure me you don’t really think that stupid thing is too big for me.”
A smile played at the corners of her lips. Trent remembered the taste of her mouth, sweet and warm. He remembered her soft curls nestled against his heart.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she replied, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes. “I’m not very good at this, Trent.”
“‘This’?”
She shrugged one shoulder, setting a line of little ducks printed on her scrubs to waddling. “You said you expect more consideration from your bed partners. I haven’t had much experience with bed partners. Nobody since my divorce.”
He blinked. “I thought you’ve been divorced for a while.”
“Three years next month.”
Saliva pooled in his mouth. His convulsive swallow sent it down the wrong pipe, initiating a fit of coughing. Nurse Rebecca, of course, knew just where to whack his back, but it still took a few minutes to get his wheezing to calm down.
“You need a glass of water,” she said when he could breathe normally again. Her fingers went for the door handle.
His fingers went for her thigh. “Rebecca, we can’t go back to the way things were before.”
He heard the little hitch in her breathing. “Trent, I don’t know—”
“I do. I know that I can’t live in that house and not have you in my arms and in my bed. It makes what we have better, don’t you think?”
She stared down at his hand on her leg, as if the sight fascinated her.
It fascinated the hell out of him, because just a few inches away was the heaven he wanted to spend the rest of the night exploring. Without that damn atlas.
“What we have…?”
“A partnership. A marriage. A baby,” he answered. “We worked pretty well as a team tonight, wouldn’t you say?”
She nodded. “You did well with my friends.”
“I like your friends. Several of them I already know, by the way. And you did well with my family yesterday.”
“Your sister Katie and her husband, you mean. I haven’t met any of the others.”
He waved away her concerns. “They’ll all feel the same way. The point, Rebecca, is that we deal well together. Out in the world. In bed.”
Beneath his hand, the muscles of her thigh twitched. “I wish you’d stop saying that,” she whispered.
“Bed?” He laughed. “Since I woke up this morning I haven’t been able to get my mind out of it, how we were together in it.” And how, when he realized she’d run out on him, taking every sign that she’d been there with her, he’d begun to suspect she’d turned coward on him.
It wasn’t going to last, though. Now their lives together included sex, and he for one was damn glad about it. Neither one of them would be content to go backward, no matter what she thought. They’d both be better off; he’d prove it to her. Not to mention he was certain the people who worked for him would be happy to have a boss relieved of all the tension that had been building inside of him.
“Let’s go inside,” Trent said, changing tactics. Give her some time to get used to the idea. Pushing her wasn’t necessary. Besides, if he couldn’t persuade her to his way of
thinking, then he didn’t deserve her in his bed. And she didn’t belong there.
But she did belong there, he thought as he walked with her through the front door and then led the way toward the kitchen. His eye caught on the vase of yellow tulips on the dining-room table. Rebecca had removed the clear glass beads that usually anchored the waxy flowers in a soldierlike posture. They lazed in the glass vase now, almost lolling, looking, for the first time, natural and fresh.
Like Rebecca. The thought made his gut tighten. Struck by a sudden, new appreciation of her, he spun toward her and grabbed her shoulders. Her little “oh” of surprise gave him the perfect opening for his tongue. He thrust it inside her mouth, and the kiss that had been in his mind as something almost affectionate transformed into a hot intimacy that had him hard and aching in seconds. Lifting his head, he stared down at her red, swollen lips.
She blinked at him, her hands clutching his forearms. “What was that for?”
“Proof.”
“Proof?”
That we’re about sex, sweetheart. He didn’t know why the notion of it made his shoulders relax and that strange knot in his stomach unclench. “Hungry?” he asked, letting her go with a smile. They needed fuel for how he planned they’d spend the night ahead.
She swayed, and he grabbed her forearms again to steady her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Did you mention food?”
“Soup and grilled cheese?” He smoothed her hair over her forehead, distracted by the way one of her soft waves clung to his fingers. “I think it’s my cooking night.”
“That sounds good.” Her gaze on his face, she backed away from him. “I’ll just change out of my uniform.”
He let her get as far as the bottom of the stairs before he stopped her. “Rebecca.”
She looked over. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you put this on?” He tossed something at her.
On reflex she caught it. Her face flamed as she realized it was the red satin nightie. “I…you…” With further speech apparently beyond her, she shot him a look and headed up the staircase.
He laughed and turned toward the kitchen, satisfied he’d signaled his intent. Whether she came down in the negligee or not, he’d see her in his bed tonight.
“Trent? Trent?” It sounded as if she was calling from the top of the stairs.
He stuck his head out the kitchen door. “Yeah?”
“My clothes aren’t where they should be.”
Oh, right. He’d nearly forgotten that maneuver he’d dreamed up this morning when he’d been pissed at her for leaving him without a word. Keeping his voice calm and pleasant, he called back to her. “Sure, they are. They’re in your room.”
Your new room.
She was silent a moment. Then, “Trent Crosby, what did you do?”
He grinned. Okay, he was a high-handed, arrogant bastard. But he’d always considered those his good points. He heard Rebecca move away from the staircase. Still grinning, he listened to her footsteps above him, following her progress along the upstairs hallway to the master bedroom. His bedroom.
Their bedroom, now that he’d moved all her clothes from her closet into his.
How long would it take before she came down to read him the riot act? Or would she be glad that he’d removed the decision from her hands?
“You know I’m right, baby,” he murmured, one ear still cocked for what she’d do next. “We’re married, we sizzle, so what could be more natural?”
By the end of the night she’d realize she belonged in his bed.
From overhead came a loud thump. The sound of something heavy falling to the floor. Bigger than a shoe. Larger than a lamp. Not an angry noise.
But an unnatural sound.
“Rebecca?” He was calling her name, and already running, though he couldn’t say exactly why his instincts were sounding a loud alarm.
“Rebecca?” he shouted, taking the steps by threes. “Rebecca!”
But she couldn’t reply, not when she was lying slumped in the middle of the bedroom floor.
“We need a doctor. A specialist. A health-care professional,” Trent said, his hands gathering up Rebecca’s where they lay loosely clasped on the coverlet of his bed. “We need to take you to one.”
“Trent, I am a health-care professional, remember? It’s nothing. I fainted because I didn’t eat today.”
He glared at her, then reached over for the pack of crackers she’d asked for once he’d lifted her onto the bed and she’d opened her eyes. “And why the hell is that?”
She shrugged. “It was that kind of day.”
“There will be no more days like that, do you understand? You gave me two dozen more gray hairs.”
Rebecca’s hand stroked through his hair and she gave him a little smile. “You’re silly. Where’s this alleged gray?”
He grabbed her fingers and held her palm against his cheek. “You need to rest.”
“I need to eat.”
That got him to his feet. “Steak, baked potatoes, and lima beans are on their way. I’m going to call DeLuce’s.”
“Lima beans?” She made a face. “You don’t eat anything green, yet you want me to ingest lima beans? I thought you mentioned soup. That sounds perfect.”
“Sounds,” he muttered. “Don’t mention sounds to me.” The sound of her dropping to the floor above him would follow him for the rest of his life, he knew. Leaning down, he tucked the covers more closely about her legs. “I’m going to get your dinner. Are you warm enough?”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
He frowned at her, her smile doing nothing to lighten his mood. “You’re the mom, damn it. You should be taking better care of yourself.”
“I will,” she promised. “But tonight you’re doing a pretty great job. Thanks.”
“Stay put,” he said, frowning at her again. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Call if you need me.”
He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, then opened the soup and put it to simmering on the stove. Call. The person who needed to call was him. His fingers clumsy, he punched Katie’s number and listened in frustration and worry to the ringing phone. What should I do for her? he practiced saying in his head.
What should I do for me? That was what he wanted to ask, too. He was supposed to be having sex with his wife, not brooding over her. Not worrying about her. Not caring so much about her.
Katie’s answering machine clicked on and he slammed down the phone. He couldn’t call his other pregnancy expert, his littlest sister, Ivy, because the time difference meant she’d be asleep now. So would her baby, he thought, and Ivy would give him a verbal lashing if he woke the child. Stirring the soup, he tried talking himself into a better frame of mind.
Rebecca fainted. She’s fine. She’s mine.
The last thought scared the hell out of him, so he took his mind out of his heart and tried putting it into the gutter. She’s mine, all right. Think of the red satin nightie. Not tonight, but soon, soon he’d see her wearing it.
But even that didn’t conjure up any comforting images. Instead he could only picture her curled up on his floor in that goofy duck-wear. His valentine crumpled on the floor.
His.
She’s mine.
He grabbed the phone, desperate for help. Punching out the familiar number, he didn’t even try to plan ahead of time what he would say. When the familiar voice answered, he blurted out the first thing that came into his head. “My wife fainted and I don’t know what to do.”
There was a long silence. “This isn’t the tyrannical troll that lives in the next office, is it?”
“Claudine, it’s me. Trent. I—”
I’m not comfortable with this. I don’t want to feel this way.
“Claudine, I need help. Please.”
Ten
After a steaming bowl of minestrone soup, Trent brought Rebecca a woman. More specifically, a woman who looked famil
iar.
“This is my secretary,” he said, ushering her into the bedroom. “Claudine.”
Short and squarely built, Claudine had a head of thick silver hair that contrasted with her black eyebrows and dark eyes. The eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled at Rebecca, shoving Trent out of the way at the same time. “I’m your assistant. We’re supposed to remember that, aren’t we?”
He shook his head, watching Claudine bustle forward. “We will remember that when you stop calling me, we.”
Without looking at him, she waved him off. “Go away. Find something useful to do.”
He scowled, retreating to the doorway. “Nag.”
“Donkey.”
“Witch.”
“Donkey’s hindquarters.”
Despite the insults traded, Rebecca could see, with a strange glee, Trent still hovered. “Claudine, are you sure…?”
His assistant’s voice and expression softened. “Go. Take a drive or something. We’ll be fine here.”
She didn’t have to ask him again. Trent disappeared.
Once alone with the other woman, Rebecca wasn’t sure what to say, however. “I’m sorry that he called and asked you to come. I told him I was fine.”
Claudine perched on the edge of the bed. “He panicked, that’s all.”
“Trent, panic?” It didn’t seem conceivable that the big, bad businessman could ever lose his cool. “He doesn’t look panicked to me.”
“Learned that iron control from his father. But he can’t fool me. I’ve worked with him for almost a decade and I worked with Jack Crosby before that.”
Rebecca shook her head. “If you say so. But I still don’t know why he had to drag you over here.”
Claudine smiled once more, those dark eyes of hers twinkling. “I didn’t mind getting a chance to see you again, this time as Trent’s bride.”
“Oh, well, about that…” Each time she had to present herself as his wife, it was getting harder, not easier to pull off. “We, uh, we…”
Get it together, Rebecca.
“We have a lot in common.” Lie. They had one thing in common, and that was their avowed pessimism about love.
Right by Her Side Page 12