Eden's Baby

by Adrianne Lee

  He caught her hand and kissed her palm. The contact sent a frisson up her arm and straight into her heart. She ought to pull away, resist. “Tell me it’s not my imagination. You do feel something for me, don’t you?”

  David couldn’t believe he had heard correctly. He tried speaking but could only nod. Had Eden just admitted that she had tender feelings for him? He wanted to shout his love for her, but she stiffened suddenly. He hesitated.

  A look of distress captured her features. “I can’t do this. I’m putting you on the spot, ethically and professionally and personally. You deserve better from me.”

  “Let me be the judge of that.” His voice rasped over the words, the loneliness in his soul reaching out to her.

  Eden blinked, tried forcing down the lump in her throat, tried catching her breath. But all of it was impossible ... with him standing so close, his hands infusing her damp shoulders with heat, his ragged breath caressing her face, his head lowering.

  She raised her face to his and closed her eyes as David’s mouth claimed hers, sweeping her into a whirlwind of passion that seemed to go on and on, stealing her senses and wrapping her in a velvet cocoon.

  She was not conscious of peeling off her wet clothes, only of standing naked before David, brazenly, as she had never done with another man. The awe in his eyes thrilled her, humbled her, sent her passion spiraling higher and higher, and she welcomed his hesitant touches as he gently buffed her damp skin with the fluffy blue towel.

  Then he was kissing her again, on her mouth, on her face, on her neck. “Oh, David, I’ve longed for this, longed for you,” she murmured, holding his head in both hands, her fingers luxuriating in the velvety texture of his thick brown hair. He lifted his head; the mossy green of his eyes had darkened to jade with his desire for her.

  He murmured, “I can’t believe this is happening. That you’re really here. Like this.”

  Her heart drummed in rhythm to the rain striking the windows, a beat that was savage and wild and beautiful.

  “Neither can I.” It was a million dreams come true. Eden shoved the terry robe down David’s back, her fingertips playing over the muscled flesh of his broad shoulders and defined arms, across the crisp brown hair of his wide chest, and she savored each delicious new sensation.

  With a honeyed groan, David lifted her against his chest, bringing his naked need against her own, pulling a breathless gasp from her and lowering her to the floor beneath him, gazing at her with such want in his eyes she knew that until this moment she had never understood what it meant to be a woman.

  She welcomed his passionate invasion of her most intimate stronghold, reveled in the taut, silken friction of his sensual thrusts, meeting his rhythm with equal fervor, their joining like a match struck against slate, the explosion fast and hard, rocketing through her every vein, every nerve, every limb, aftershocks tingling her toes and fingertips, the soles of her feet, the roots of her hair.

  Never in her twenty-eight years had she experienced anything close to this mind-boggling pleasure, this achingly sweet joy. “I didn’t know making love could feel so... good.”

  David gave her a lopsided grin, then lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I dreamed it could.”

  “Did you, David?” Eden trailed her fingertips tentatively over his chest and gazed into his moss green eyes.

  “Night and day.”

  Her heart gave a happy leap. If he’d thought about it night and day, it meant he’d wanted to be with her as much as she had wanted to be with him. Everything seemed suddenly less bleak. She felt as if she’d come home, home to the one man who would always make her feel safe and ... loved.

  Loved? She realized with a jolt that she was fooling herself. She was neither safe nor loved. What David had said was dear, but he’d made no real declarations. No promises. Why should he? Dismayed, Eden shoved herself to a sitting position, grabbed up the blue towel and wrapped it around herself like a toga, closing her eyes against the anxious knot that once again filled her stomach. The fire seemed suddenly too hot against her backside.

  “What have I done? I’m no better than Peter.” And when David learned the whole story, he’d feel as if she’d just used him.

  “Don’t say that. You never cheated on Peter while the marriage was intact. He’s set you free.” David touched her shoulder. Eden flinched as if he’d burned her. What had he done to her? Shaking his head, he grabbed his robe and scooted onto the couch. The thought of the misery he was causing her ate a hole through the afterglow he’d been feeling.

  He’d compromised her, compromised his ethics.... Why in hell had he acted so rashly, been so quick to believe that Eden might love him as much as he loved her? He clenched his hands in his lap to keep from reaching out to her again. “I’m the one who let things get out of hand”

  “No. I wanted this as much as you did” Afraid her feelings would be crushed, afraid David didn’t love her as she loved him, Eden borrowed a phrase she’d read in a women’s magazine. “Please, can we just let it be what it was—a wonderful reaffirmation of life?”

  “Sure.” His heart dropped like a deflated balloon. Was that all it had meant to her? A validation of her desirability? It had meant so very much more to him.

  Eden read the confusion and hurt on David’s face and wondered if she’d misjudged the depth of his feeling for her. But what would he feel when he heard the whole truth? She had held it in long enough. She lurched to her feet, awkward in the mammoth towel. “I haven’t told you the worst.”

  Frowning, David shrugged on his robe.

  Her confidence faltered. She drew a bracing breath and blurted, “Peter is dropping Beth from his insurance.”

  Concern grabbed his handsome face. He was acutely aware of Beth’s dire condition, her long wait for a kidney donor. “But that would knock her down the waiting list. Maybe off of it completely. Doesn’t he know that?”

  “Of course he does. He doesn’t care. As far as Peter is concerned, Beth is the main reason for our marriage falling apart.”

  “Her illness, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s quite common. I deal every week with families struggling to stay together after a serious illness or injury has befallen one of them.”

  Eden gave a bitter laugh. “Peter resents the time demands she places on me.”

  David knew he was too close to this to be impartial; he’d abandoned his objectivity the moment he’d touched her. But he could understand how a husband would resent a lack of attention from his wife, especially a wife like Eden, especially a man like Peter Prescott, whom David suspected was a selfish bastard. “Beth didn’t wish the disease on herself.”

  “Exactly.” Eden was gripping the towel with white knuckles. “But I can’t let him take away her insurance. It’s a death sentence for her. What am I going to do?”

  So help him God, he wanted to fold her into his arms again. He clenched his fists. “Have you seen a lawyer yet?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure it will do me any good.”

  “Why? This is a community-property state. A clever attorney might be able to finagle a settlement that keeps Beth’s insurance coverage in lieu of other concessions to Peter.”

  He didn’t doubt for a moment that Eden would agree to such a settlement—even if it meant a substantial financial loss for her—with Beth’s life at stake. So why had she paled at the suggestion?

  She didn’t keep him in the dark. “I signed a prenuptial agreement.”

  Of course. He should have realized,. A man of Prescott’s wealth would insist on a prenuptial agreement. “I take it the document doesn’t serve your best interests.”

  A terse laugh burst from her, and she grimaced. “Not unless Peter conveniently dies before the divorce is final”

  “What?”

  Eden brought her hand to her mouth, realizing belatedly how heartless she sounded. “I didn’t mean that. I’m not wishing Peter dead.” Nor was she explaining this coherently. S
he took another breath. “The terms of the agreement state that if he dies before me, the estate will be divided between his sister and me. But if we divorce, I’ll get nothing.” She began to tremble. “Without the insurance, Beth will die.”

  “No. You won’t allow that.” And neither would he. There were a few sources he would investigate first thing tomorrow. But until he had, he wouldn’t mention them, wouldn’t give her false hope. But he could offer real hope. “Eden, there has to be something you can do. Talk to an attorney about it. I know you’ll find a way.”

  “Find a way?” Desperation nipped at her. Since she’d learned last year that Beth’s kidneys were failing and that she was not a possible donor, Eden had dedicated every waking hour to her sister’s welfare. It had been a horror watching the lively twenty-two-year-old college student transform into a walking ghost, so tired most days she did little more than sleep. Damn Peter Prescott’s cold heart. If she didn’t stop him from going through with the divorce, Beth would die. “The only ‘way’ I’ll find is to stop Peter.”

  She gathered her clothes and rushed down the hall to the bathroom. Minutes later she was dressed, damp fabric sticking to her warmed flesh, chilling her again. But her mind was so full, she ignored the physical discomfort. She wanted to avoid David, to leave without trying to deal with the further complication in her life that their lovemaking had created.

  But he was waiting outside the bathroom door. He had donned jeans and a T-shirt. “Eden, please don’t leave like this.”

  “I have to.” She brushed past him.

  He followed her to the foyer. “Let me help. I’ll do anything it takes. Stay and talk about it.”

  “Not now. I just can’t....” Still, she appreciated his offer. She paused at the open door, rose up on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll call you later.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” David hated letting her go. “You need to change into dry clothes. Promise me you’ll go straight home.”

  “I promise.”

  But for the next few hours, Eden drove aimlessly through the rain-washed streets of Seattle, crossed the 520 floating bridge into Bellevue, then drove down 405 to 1-90 and back into Seattle, repeating the route several times, hardly noticing either the cities’ night lights or the demands of the heavy traffic.

  Her mind puzzled over the dilemmas of Peter and the insurance, of David and the wonderful way he’d made her feel, the awful way she’d left things between them. In her mind’s eye, she recalled his glorious naked body, remembered how brazen she’d been in their lovemaking, how abandoned. Heat stole through her.

  With Peter she always held something back, never even permitted the lights on. She had been his possession, his showpiece, the prettiest wife in a room full of pretty wives, something to make other men envious of him—a role she detected.

  A role that ended when Beth’s illness began taking its toll on her energy. Her looks.

  Then Peter had made certain she knew just how undesirable she’d become, demanding his marital rights but twice in the past year. She shuddered as she thought of the last time, only two weeks ago. Peter had been drunk and in a vicious mood. She’d gritted her teeth until he’d finished.

  But with David everything had been so different. Did he love her? Just a little? The delicious warmth rushed through her again. He hadn’t seemed to notice the circles under her eyes, the weight she’d lost. He’d made her feel special, alluring, and in turn she’d trusted him with her every vulnerability, knowing he’d neither ridicule nor scorn her.

  Eden stretched. If she trusted David to this degree, shouldn’t she trust his advice? Maybe there was some other way to cover the cost of Beth’s transplant surgery and recovery. Making up her mind to call an attorney first thing in the morning, she left the freeway behind and headed for the Issaquah Plateau.

  A mile from home, she stopped for gas. It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when she arrived home and pulled into the five-car garage. Peter’s Porsche was still gone. He hadn’t told her to move out yet, but he would soon enough. Well, she’d deal with that when the time came.

  She entered the kitchen. The phone was ringing. Fearing it might awaken Beth or Ariel Bell, her nurse, both of whom slept on this floor, or Peter’s sister, Valerie, who slept in the room directly above the kitchen, she grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

  An unfamiliar voice said, “Mrs. Peter Prescott, please.”

  “Speaking.”

  “Mrs. Prescott, this is Detective Kollecki with the Issaquah Police Department. I’d like to come over and speak with you.”

  “Now?” At this hour? Eden’s heartbeat accelerated. “What about?”

  “About your husband”

  Eden gripped the phone tighter. “H-has Peter been in an accident?” He always drove his car too fast.

  “I’d rather not say over the phone.”

  An odd queasiness washed over Eden. It had been a horrendous day. Apparently it wasn’t over. Then again, was this really the police? She insisted on phoning the caller back to verify his identity. A moment later, after looking up the phone number, she had the Issaquah police on the line and was put through to Detective Kollecki, who still insisted on telling her about Peter in person. Her queasiness worsened. “You’d better come right over.”

  They arrived fifteen minutes later. Two of them, dressed in plainclothes. Kollecki was a stockily built man with bright red hair and Santa cheeks. Eden didn’t catch the other officer’s name. “Please, just tell me what’s happened to Peter.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we found your husband earlier this evening. He’s dead.” Kollecki grimaced. “It looks like murder.”

  Chapter Two

  “M-murder?” Eden stared at Kollecki with disbelieving eyes, but the shock of his words was sinking in, stepping up her already thudding heartbeat. “How—how could that be?”

  Kollecki seemed to be reading her reactions, measuring her responses as if she was taking an oral test he would later grade. “There’s no question about it, ma’am. The medical examiner was definite.”

  Definite. Peter was dead. Murdered. Her hand flew to her mouth. It was unbelievable. She noticed Kollecki’s intense dark eyes sweeping her, taking in every detail of her, from her rumpled clothing to the mascara she knew was smudged beneath her eyes. But whatever he deduced from this she could not guess.

  “May we come in, ma’am? There are a few questions we’d like to ask.”

  Eden led them into the formal living room, switching on lamps before perching on the edge of the sofa. Her mind reeled, her body felt hot and cold at the same time and the glare from the table lamps seemed as harshly bright as if their shades were missing.

  Kollecki sat across from her, dwarfing the delicate Queen Anne chair, his dun-colored raincoat dull against the gold-striped brocade cushions. He glanced at a tablet nestled in his thick hand. “Do you know a ... Shannon Smalley?”

  The question startled her. A rush of heat beat a path up her spine and into her face. Did she know Peter’s new love? Oh, yes. Only too well. But why was he asking her this? Her brows tugged together. “Ms. Smalley is Dr. Dayton, er, our dentist’s receptionist.”

  “Do you know where she lives?”

  Eden stiffened. “Why?”

  “Then you don’t?”

  “Really, Officer Kollecki, I don’t how you found out about Peter’s—” Eden stopped herself.

  But it was all Kollecki needed to hear. “So you knew about them. For how long?”

  A huge sigh pushed through her lips. “About eight hours ... I suppose.”

  “I see.” He jotted something on the tablet.

  The emotional tide she’d staved off during the past several hours threatened to overwhelm her. Tears stung her eyes. She struggled against them; she would not cry in front of these men. She cleared her throat and somehow kept her voice level. “Look, I’ll cooperate fully, but it’s nearly 3:00 a.m. It’s been a hell of a day and it isn’t over yet. Could your questions wait unt
il morning?”

  The two men exchanged a secret glance, then Kollecki folded his tablet into his pocket. “Sure. Call me around ten.”

  Moments later the two policemen were back in their car. Kollecki gazed out at the huge house as his partner started the engine. “What did you make of her?”

  “Cool. Like ice.” His partner smirked. “Her old man’s offed and she don’t even ask how.”

  Kollecki nodded. “Or where.”

  PATCHES OF BLUE in the cloudy sky gave David hope that the day would be a good one—even though he was off to a late start. He’d tossed and turned throughout the long night, dreaming of Eden, of making love to her, worrying about her state of mind. All he wanted to do was call her, just hear her voice, just talk to her. She’d promised to call. Why hadn’t she? He’d give her until noon. If he hadn’t heard by then, he’d drive to her house.

  He hauled his briefcase to his side, pulled open his front door and stepped onto the porch. He felt something under his right foot. Glancing down, he saw he’d crushed a flower. The moisture left his mouth, and a chill like icy water sluiced down his spine. It was a rose.

  A single white rose.

  Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? Staggering back, he jerked his head up. The only people around were his neighbors going about their morning routines. He drew a shaky breath, then squatted and examined the flower. It had stopped raining sometime near midnight. The rose was dry.

  Should he call the police? And ... what? Ask if any of his friends or students were missing? Had been found dead? His pulse raced, and David willed himself to calm down. He was being paranoid. Unnerved for no reason.

  Besides, whom would he call about it? That unpleasant detective who’d handled Marianne DePaul’s case? He gave a bitter laugh. He sure as hell didn’t want to open that can of worms.

  Not without just cause.

  He hurried back inside and brought out a Ziploc bag, then, using a pencil, he lifted the crushed flower and deposited it within. Kollecki. That was the police officer’s name, David recalled with accompanying distaste. The cop had actually suspected him of killing Marianne. If Rose Hatcher hadn’t confessed ...