Secretly Married

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  Delaney hadn’t moved.

  He let his eyes take his fill of her. Over the gilded sheen of her hair, down the creamy length of her throat to the shadowy cleavage revealed by the scooped neck of the thin, ribbed shirt.

  He exhaled sharply. He needed his head examined. Or a dip in the ocean to cool his jets. He approached the side of her bed again and barely touching her, slid the glasses from her nose. He set them on the nightstand, then reached for the lamp.

  “Sam?” Her voice was soft. Thick with sleep. As different from the raw tone of her “Happy anniversary” as a voice could get, and it reached down inside him, clamping like a tight velvet fist.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  In a sinuous motion, she slid down the pillows. The sheet dragged down around her hips where the bottom of the shirt had ridden up, displaying a pale slice of flesh. She languidly lifted her arms in the same way she’d done when he’d had to leave their bed because of some case he was working.

  Desire slammed into need.

  Need warred with common sense.

  She was asleep.

  But at least she hadn’t murmured Do-Wright’s name. He went on his knees beside the bed, throwing out common sense the same way he always did when it came to Delaney. His hands slid over the supple strength of her biceps.

  Any minute she’d wake up and give him hell.

  Maybe it’d be worth it.

  She sighed and turned more fully toward him, her hands curving over his shoulders as he leaned over her. In a movement achingly familiar, she flattened one hand against his back, the other sank into his hair, and her nose found the crook of his neck.

  Crown him king of idiots.

  He nudged. She turned. And instead of just being hunched over the bed, he was lying alongside her on top of it. Her knee slid over his leg. She was boneless, thoroughly asleep.

  He couldn’t make the same claim.

  Definitely king of idiots.

  He scooped her up until she lay on top of him. He cupped her face between his hands. Murmured her name.

  Her eyes popped open.

  Her lips parted in a silent “oh” as the sleep cleared from those deep pools of blue.

  Only then did he kiss her.

  Resistance was fleeting. Then her hands pulled, rather than pushed. Her knees fell to either side of him, her fingertips grazed his jaw, his temple. He ran his hands over the flare of her hips. The shirt was no barrier when his fingers tunneled beneath it, exploring the silk of her back right up to her shoulder blades.

  She dragged her mouth from his, planted her hand on his chest and pushed herself up. Her hair tumbled forward over her cheeks, her eyes. He could feel the imprint of her slender hand splayed against his chest, as if it were dipped in fire. The warm weight of her sitting on his thighs was a torture all its own.

  “I don’t understand you.” She whispered, but the admission settled on him like daggers. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  Everything. Nothing. He closed his eyes against the sight of her, against the swell of her breasts, rosy crests thrusting against the thin cotton. Nothing would be easier, but it was also empty. Dull. Lifeless.

  And he was still alive, as her arrival on Turnabout had pointedly reminded him.

  He jackknifed, keeping her in place on his lap, until his nose was inches from hers. “I’m hard, and I’m tired of games. What the hell did you come here for, Laney? The pleasure of stripping my skin right off me? ’Cause that’s what it’s like having you near and not having you.”

  “You’re the one who’s kept me a virtual prisoner on this island.”

  “I’m not talking about that.” It took more effort than he liked to keep his voice from rising. “And short of locking you in one of my jail cells, we both know there’s not a place on this earth that you couldn’t stroll in or out of if you were so inclined.”

  “Oh, right. As if I can arrange my life in whatever fashion suits me? You’re describing my mother, Sam. Not me.”

  The hell of it was, he knew she was right. Delaney had never traded on Jessica Townsend’s wealth or name. Nor had she done so on her father’s reputation with the force. Two people who could offer everything to her but who hadn’t.

  Yet Delaney had survived. Hell, she’d even excelled. She hadn’t needed her parents any more than she’d needed him. “And if you could arrange it, what would you do?”

  Her lashes swept down, hiding those deep, soft pools. Then she looked at him. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”

  Don’t ask the question if you’re not prepared to listen to the answer. How many times had he heard her voice that belief?

  He lifted her from him and rolled off the bed. Her gaze drifted over him, clung in places that only served to make him more annoyed. With her. With himself. With the past, and most particularly with the present. “Look somewhere else, Delaney, unless you really want the answer to that.”

  Color rioted in her cheeks. She didn’t look away.

  He leaned over her, planting his hands on the mattress. The muscles in her long, elegant throat worked in a swallow. He knew if he kissed her again, they’d spend the rest of the night tearing apart the bed.

  The knowledge made him even harder. But he flipped the ring off his finger and held it in front of her. “Why’d you bring this back?”

  Her lips pressed together for a moment. “I always thought it was an unusual band,” she murmured. “I didn’t realize how unusual until I drove Etta home. It’s a family ring, isn’t it? You didn’t go out and buy it. She wears one just like it.”

  He didn’t deny it. “Why?”

  She sighed a little. “What does it matter, Sam? You were so ashamed of us that you kept our marriage a secret from your own family.”

  “I was never ashamed of you.”

  “Then why? You didn’t think our marriage had a chance of working, so why tell anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  She blanched. “Well. I guess I asked the right question. How…embarrassing.”

  “Stop.”

  “Why?” She pushed at him and slid across the bed, away from him. “You married me, but you didn’t expect it to work. Why did you even bother talking me into Las Vegas? We were responsible adults, Sam, more than capable of dealing with my pregnancy—”

  “Because your dad was a jerk. Because he couldn’t see past his nose to stop blaming you for something your brother caused. Because your mother was more interested in screwing her Russian mobster-gardener than being a mother when you needed one. Because—”

  “You felt sorry for me.” She looked away, her expression pained. “Dandy,” he heard her whisper.

  “Because you were beautiful and too good for the son of a criminal,” he corrected flatly. “And nothing about that has changed. Not even if you’re pregnant now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Danté,” he bit out, “is a convicted felon.”

  “So? I saw his ankle bracelet earlier, Sam. I’m not an idiot. I’ve had dozens of patients who wore bracelets just like it. Your father’s on house arrest. That’s why he wasn’t at Maisy’s barbecue on the beach, and the only time I’ve seen him in town was with you.”

  “Parole, to be accurate. And everybody expects apples not to fall far from the tree.”

  She eyed him, seeming to forget that she wore only a thin T-shirt and panties cut high on her mile-long legs.

  “My father was a cop. A good one. Randy was a total screwup, into everything not necessarily shy of illegal. They still loved each other. What has that got to do with you and me?”

  “Danté is a forger. My whole life was colored by his deeds. He was good but not good enough to not get caught. Again and again and again. Even by me. You know what it feels like to have to arrest your own father?”

  Her brows drew together. “Oh, Sam.”

  “You wouldn’t have had dinner with me if you’d known about him, much less married me. Christ, Delaney, your mother
is an heiress. Your dad was a cop. They didn’t make it work. How were we supposed to make it work?”

  “They split up after the accident! Neither one of them handled Randy’s death well.”

  “So they split and managed to forget that not all of their children died that night when Randy drove you both off the road.”

  She winced but didn’t deny the truth of his words, “You could have told me about Danté, Sam. You chose not to. Do you think so little of me?”

  “What I think is that you didn’t want to be there in the first place and any excuse—”

  “You should have told me.” Her voice rose sharply.

  “When would I have done so, Delaney? Maybe made an appointment with your secretary so I could see you?”

  She jerked as if he’d slapped her.

  “You spent nearly twenty hours a day at the office,” he went on, his voice tight. He tossed the wedding ring on the bed. “You married me, but you didn’t want to be around me. There was nothing you needed from me. I may not be a doctor of psychiatry, but even I picked up on that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Her voice was hoarse.

  But he knew he wasn’t. “You were the princess in the ivory tower. Only, you kept sneaking down. Kept taking pro bono cases, cases that nobody else wanted to deal with. Getting your hands in the muck and the mire of a world that wasn’t pretty at all. Why was that? Because you thought if you did your father might recognize that he hadn’t lost everything in the accident you and Randy had? That your brother may have died, but you were alive and important, too?”

  It took the sight of tears rolling down her cheeks to stop his tirade. She’d never cried easily. Not in the two years he’d known her before they’d eloped. Not in the four months they’d been together before he’d chucked it all and walked out, leaving his personal life in even more shambles than his professional one.

  But with the anger gone, it left a gaping hole inside him. One that was too damned familiar and too damned painful.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. “Does Danté’s record have something to do with you losing your job?”

  Why not? Of course she’d make the obvious connection. “The money was counterfeit. It had Danté’s artistry all over it. When the money disappeared from the evidence locker, they blamed me.”

  “But you wouldn’t—”

  “Are you sure about that, Laney?” His jaw was so tight it ached. “That day in the hospital when I told you about Internal Affairs calling me in, you didn’t even question it. What would you have thought if you’d known about Danté?”

  “The only thing I was thinking that day was that I was never going to hold our baby in my arms.” Her eyes were red. “That when I’d needed you with me, you weren’t there. And that the very reason you’d married me no longer existed. You blamed me for going out that night to pick up Alonso, and you never stopped. Then two weeks later you moved out, proving that I was right.”

  “I moved out because you couldn’t bring yourself to look me in the face. Because if I hadn’t been so determined to follow every goddamned letter of the law, I would have gone myself, and you’d have never been driving in the first place!”

  She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, her head shaking. Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I didn’t blame you for my accident,” she finally whispered.

  “And I didn’t blame you for it, either.”

  She gingerly lowered herself to the foot of the bed, her head bowed, her soft hair falling on either side of her neck.

  There were so many things about Delaney that had gotten to him. But the most damaging had been the vulnerability she tried so damned hard to hide.

  “The money was found, eventually,” he said abruptly. “My record was cleared. But I knew I wasn’t going back to New York again.”

  “Because of me.”

  He exhaled roughly. Pulled the handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Yes.”

  She was silent for a long moment. But she finally took the square of cloth and pressed it to her eyes. “You’re the only man I know who carries a handkerchief.” Her voice was muffled. Careful.

  “Comes from being raised by an annoying grandmother.” His voice was just as careful.

  “She loves you.”

  He’d never doubted it. Maybe Delaney had been born to a woman who could buy and sell half of Manhattan. But he’d been the one to know someone in his life loved him even if she did cause him no end of consternation. “She’s big on family.”

  “Something she obviously passed on to you.” Her voice was husky. “She wants you to go to dinner on Sunday.”

  “She always does. She knows why I won’t.”

  “Because of your father.”

  “Yes.”

  She tilted back her head. Her eyes were red. Her nose was red. Her lips were full.

  He was still a hairbreadth away from tumbling her back on the bed.

  “Some anniversary, hmm?” Her lips twisted in a macabre stab at humor.

  Unfortunately, he’d been known to have a touch of the macabre himself. One of the ways a detective managed to stay sane in the city. “Like none I’ve ever had before.” Ironic truth.

  “I spent last year’s working.” Her fingers curled into her palms, surrounding the handkerchief. “I didn’t need to. I just…didn’t want to go home.”

  “Was Chad there?” He hated the question; the lack of control he had in asking it.

  “He would have been if I’d asked.” She glanced at him, then looked away. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t want Chad. I’ve never wanted Chad. Not that way. If I had, I could have married him ten years ago, the first time he asked.”

  “But you considered it.” It wasn’t a question. How could it be, when he knew the answer.

  She inhaled. Exhaled. Stood and held out the cloth to him. “I thought it was the smart thing to do.”

  He didn’t take the cloth, and her hand finally lowered. “And you’ve always prided yourself on being smart.”

  She turned away, but he could still see her face in the mirror. “When brains are a person’s only strength? Yes.”

  “None of this changes the fact that you could be pregnant.”

  In the mirror’s reflection he saw her eyes close, her fingers curl until her knuckles were white. “I won’t be.” Her voice was raw. “But I’ll wait it out just to satisfy you.”

  He stepped behind her, closing his hands over her shoulders. Looking at their reflections. He, tanned and dark-haired; she, ivory-skinned and fair. Her gaze met his in the mirror and it was filled with emotions he couldn’t even put a name to.

  “Get some sleep,” he said after a moment. “Midnight has passed. Celebrating is done.”

  Her eyes flickered. “I’m sorry.”

  He drew his thumbs down the curve of her shoulders, and away. “So am I.” About so many things.

  Leaving the ring on the bed, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  He wished he could close the door on his feelings where she was concerned as easily.

  Chapter 14

  “Have you seen Caitlin?” Annie poked her head in the playroom, where Delaney was reading a story to Mary.

  Delaney shook her head. Mary did, too.

  Annie nodded and disappeared.

  Delaney smiled down at the little girl, transferring the picture book into her hands. “Keep reading. I’ll be back.” She climbed to her feet and hurried after Annie. “Is something wrong?”

  “Caitlin’s gone missing.” Annie kept her voice low as she walked toward the front of the house. “Alonso was the one who noticed first. I’ve looked everywhere for her. Logan went off-island this morning to talk to someone who’s applied for Dr. Weathers’s position. I’ve called Sam. He’s on his way over.”

  Her stomach sank. Not entirely because of Caitlin.

  She and Sam may have finally spoken about matters that should have been addressed earlier, but since their abysmal
anniversary a week ago, they’d gone out of their way to avoid each other. He’d be gone from the house when she woke, and she’d be gone when he returned. And Sunday had passed without one mention of Etta’s dinner.

  “Maybe she went to see the father of her baby.”

  Annie shook her head. “Whoever that is. But she’d have had to cross the same time Logan did. She didn’t.”

  “So she’s still on Turnabout. Has she done this kind of thing before?”

  “No.” She raked her fingers through her hair, looking clearly rattled. “Why would she run away?”

  “Did she have an argument with anyone here?”

  Annie kept shaking her head. “She spends a lot of her time with Alonso. You’ve surely noticed that.”

  Delaney had. She’d spent so much time with the residents of Castillo House that Annie and Logan had taken to joking that they needed to build her a bedroom, too. “Does Betty have any ideas?”

  Again another head shake.

  “She got pregnant by a cop, you know.” Alonso stood in the great room watching them. “I’m pretty sure of it. That’s why she doesn’t like the sheriff much.”

  Annie pressed her palm to her stomach. “If she wants to see the father of her baby, all she’d have to do is say so. We’d help her.”

  “She doesn’t want to see the guy. She doesn’t want to—” He broke off.

  “Alonso.” Delaney reached up and caught his face, gently forcing him to look at her. “If you know something, now’s the time to say so.”

  “She didn’t tell me nothing,” Alonso insisted. “Honest.”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “But you have some idea, yes?”

  “She said she wanted to be alone. That she knew there was one place she could be sure of it. She’s scared of havin’ the kid, you know? She said she wished she were a bird, so she could just fly off and be alone.”

  “One place? On the island?”

  “Yeah. She likes being outside. You know how she’s always talking about birds. And that’s all I know.”

  Delaney nodded. “Okay. Why don’t you go make sure the children keep occupied?” She waited until he’d left, then turned back to Annie just as Sam came through the front door.