by Lucy Monroe
She might react with more understanding later, but right now she didn't feel that way.
She needed time alone. It was late and she felt overwhelmingly tired. She trudged upstairs and got ready for bed. When she had washed her face and pulled on flannel pajamas, she walked right past the bed she shared with Alex. She'd used the bedroom set from her condo to furnish one of the spare bedrooms. She intended to sleep there. Alone.
Slipping between the sheets, she wanted to feel comforted by the familiarity of her old bed. She didn't.
She felt lonely. Her cheeks were wet with tears when she fell asleep.
* * *
Alex sat at the large oak table and glared at the brochures Isabel had left lying on it, as if somehow the mess he found himself in was their fault. Isabel acted as if he'd betrayed her when he refused to set a date for the trip. He hoped the deal with Hypertron would be wrapped up by the end of the month, but he couldn't guarantee it. He hated putting her off like this, but he didn't have a choice.
His plans for justice aside, he also had a responsibility to his client. He'd made commitments to St. Clair and he couldn't just dismiss them. But that didn't mean that disappointing his wife didn't bother him.
She'd looked so dejected when she left the kitchen. Like she didn't believe he was going to take her away as soon as he could. Hell, she probably didn't. That look had been so different from her expression when she'd told him she loved him, but if she loved him wouldn't she trust him to keep his word? The thought that her love might not be secure jolted him. He wanted her settled, damn it. He wanted her to believe in him in a way she no longer believed in her dad.
He looked again at the brochures Isabel had dropped on the table and made a decision. He'd have to make arrangements with Marcus, but he was going to prove to Isabel that she had married a man very different from John Harrison. Grabbing the brochures, he left the kitchen and loped up the stairs. He wasn't prepared for the empty bed. The door to the adjoining bathroom was open and there was no sign of his wife.
He found her in the spare bedroom. In her old bed.
The sound of her even breathing indicated that she was already asleep. She thought she could put distance between them by sleeping in another bed, but it wasn't going to happen. Taking care not to wake her, he pulled the bedcovers back. He didn't want another argument right now. He gently lifted her and carried her back to their bedroom. She woke up as he laid her in their bed.
"You came and got me," she mumbled drowsily.
"Of course." Had she doubted for a minute that he would?
She snuggled into the covers. "I'm glad."
He doubted she realized she'd said the revealing words. In her sleepy state, her guard was down. Alex felt his chest expand. She had been angry but had not wanted to spend the night apart. She did love him. She just wasn't sure she could trust him.
He tore off his clothes and then climbed into bed. She rolled into his arms without protest. He kissed the top of her head. "It's going to be all right, sweetheart I promise."
She mumbled something that he couldn't understand and then her breathing returned to the deep pattern of sleep.
* * *
"Isabel."
Someone was whispering her name, pulling her from her dreams of a long Caribbean cruise with Alex. She tried to ignore the summons. If she couldn't have a real honeymoon, the very least the annoying voice could do was to let her have her dreams.
The voice stopped and she tried to slip back to sleep, but now warm, firm lips were nibbling on her earlobe. "Wake up, sweetheart."
Realizing sleep was impossible, she opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't in her old bed, for which she felt embarrassed gratitude. It had been childish to abandon their bed in favor of sleeping alone just because she hadn't gotten her way, and she was determined not to do it on such a flimsy excuse again.
The second thing she noticed was the pile of brochures from the travel agency fanned out on the pillow next to her.
She turned her head to ask Alex what was going on and ran right into his lips. He kissed her until she forgot her anger of the night before and her confusion at finding the brochures in bed with her this morning. She was starting to think she should have worn something less constrictive than her flannel pj's to bed last night when he pulled away.
"I like the way you wake up, Isabel."
"I like the way you wake me up," she admitted. "I'm sorry I went to sleep in the spare room. It was stupid."
Warm brown eyes caressed her with their understanding. "I didn't leave you there."
She smiled. "I'm glad."
"You said that last night, too."
She had? Well, she must have been more cognizant than she thought.
He smiled that sexy smile that always sent her heart into overdrive and reached across her to grab the glossy brochures. Then, lifting her into a sitting position, he put them in her lap. "Where do you want to go?"
"When?" she asked, shocked by the unexpected question.
"The first week of next month."
Gratitude and love filled her to overflowing. Not only was Alex not angry for her overreaction the night before, but he wanted to go on a honeymoon with her. She didn't understand why the trip was so important to her, but it was.
"So soon?" She still couldn't quite believe it. "What about your business?"
"Marcus can handle it."
"The first week of next month?" She rattled off the exact dates, wanting confirmation, feeling a little like Cinderella after being invited to the ball. Rattled and very, very pleased.
He smiled again and that killer dimple that turned her insides to mush seemed to be winking at her. "Yes."
"I can wait until things calm down at CIS. Really." She felt obligated to make the offer. After all, it wasn't as if a honeymoon had been on her list.
He shook his head before she finished speaking. "We're going away. Now pick out where you want to go."
She picked an all-inclusive resort hotel in Mexico.
* * *
The following Sunday, Alex and Isabel went to Priscilla's house for lunch. Lawrence Redding was also there. When Isabel shared the news with Alex's mother of their upcoming trip, Lawrence had only good things to say about the resort she had picked out, having been there once himself.
Alex enjoyed the look of happiness on his wife's face, and then it hit him: his mother was wearing a very similar expression. Alex knew the reason Isabel looked so happy. She was pleased with him, happy to be married to him, happy about their upcoming honeymoon, and happy with the pleasure they found in each other's bodies.
Why did his mother have that same look of feminine satisfaction deep in her eyes?
After lunch Alex cleared the table, asking his mother to join him in the kitchen while Isabel took Lawrence to the solarium to discuss possible job opportunities.
Alex stacked the plates in the sink while his mother put away the leftovers. "So what's going on with you and Redding?"
Priscilla closed the refrigerator and stood next to the counter. She didn't lean. His mother never leaned. "I've been waiting for this question."
He had a difficult time picturing his mother dating, but particularly to a man as unsettled as Redding. Maybe that's why it had taken him so long to get around to asking. "So, what's the answer?"
Priscilla delicately cleared her throat. "We've been seeing a lot of each other."
"Dad's only been dead two years." The words shocked him. He hadn't planned to say anything of the sort. His mother's private life was her own business and two years was long enough to mourn a husband. But Redding?
Rather than the disapproval he expected in his mother's face, her eyes reflected gentle understanding. "It's time to move on, Alex. It has been a lot longer than two years since I lost your father."
Insides clenching, Alex asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your father found a mistress I could never compete with and he gave her all that he had to g
ive."
"Dad did not sleep around." Alex ground the words out, praying they were true.
Priscilla met Alex's gaze, her own steady. "No. When would he have had the time? He was much too busy working to sustain a marriage, much less a clandestine relationship."
"So now you want to get involved with a man who can't hold a job?" Alex couldn't believe his mother's attitude. His parents had not been affectionate, but he hadn't thought their marriage was that bad.
Priscilla's eyes narrowed. She drew herself perfectly erect. "Lawrence has no difficulty holding down a job. Each move he makes is voluntary."
Alex ran his fingers through his hair. "Do you blame me for being concerned? Dad might have worked too much overtime, but he was stable. For all we know Redding is looking at you as his retirement plan."
The minute the words left his mouth, Alex knew they were a mistake. His mother's eyes flashed blue fire, and she looked suspiciously like she and Isabel had gone to the same school for irate females.
"I regret the need to say this, but I'm going to. Your father worked far too much. He let his job overrule every other priority in his life including his family. It may come as a horrible shock to you, but I consider Lawrence my retirement plan. I want someone to spend my time with." His mother's eyes filled with tears, which she quickly brushed away. "I'm tired of loneliness, Alex."
"Damn Hypertron."
"No. Damn your father's workaholic ways," she said fiercely. "He was a heart attack waiting to happen."
The curse coming from his mother's proper mouth shocked Alex, but he wouldn't let her say that Hypertron had no responsibility. "Losing the right to patent his design caused his heart attack. If Hypertron had given Dad his due, he could have relaxed and given you the time you needed."
Priscilla shook her head sadly. "Your father allowed his obsession with the project to take him away from home so much that by the time he finished it, I didn't even know him any longer." She sighed. "Perhaps we could have gotten to know one another again if he put in fewer hours at work, but Ray had no desire to change. He proved that in the hospital."
Alex's muscles bunched as his mother's words penetrated his mind. "What do you mean?"
"His last words were about the project, Alex. He used up his final words to curse Hypertron."
"What do you think they should have been?" Alex demanded, not understanding what she was trying to say.
"Maybe, just maybe, he could have said he loved us."
"He said the insurance was current."
Priscilla laughed, but the sound was hollow. She didn't understand.
"In his own way, Dad was saying that he loved you, that you were taken care of," he tried to explain.
His mother's face softened. "Perhaps you're right, but I needed the words, Alex."
Were the words so important? He'd never said them to Isabel, didn't know if he could. It wasn't something he'd ever said to any woman other than his mother. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd ever used the words at all. After his father's death he'd told his mother he loved her, and once a year later when he found her crying over a photo album.
"So, you're saying because Redding gives you the words, he's a better man than my father?"
He expected her to deny it and was shocked when his mother nodded in agreement. "Better for me at any rate. The words are just that, until they are backed up by actions, and Lawrence has shown me in many ways that I am more important to him than anything else in his life, his work included."
"You don't know that Dad wouldn't have come around if he'd lived," Alex continued to insist stubbornly.
His mom smiled gently at him. "No, I don't know that."
But she didn't believe it. She'd agreed with him to appease him, but her eyes told their own story. His mother didn't hold Hypertron responsible for his dad's death. "So, you're saying it was Dad's fault he had a heart attack and died so young?"
She reached out and touched him. "Does it have to be anyone's fault? Death happens, Alex. It's part of life. Ray's gone but we're still living, and if we do it in the past, we might as well be dead with him."
* * *
Isabel put the finishing touches on the picnic basket before sliding the zip-lock baggie with the used home pregnancy test inside. The small white stick had two colored lines, indicating the tiny life growing inside her womb. She sucked in a breath and smelled the fried chicken she had prepared for lunch, glad she wasn't showing any signs of morning sickness.
Isabel hadn't planned to get pregnant so quickly, but considering how often they made love, she shouldn't have been surprised. They hadn't discussed birth control since their wedding night, when Alex had said he didn't want anything between them, so she assumed he knew she wasn't using any.
She blew out a nervous breath.
He'd said that the idea of making love while knowing that a baby could be the result had turned him on. He'd also promised to fulfill her desire for motherhood. I'll give you babies, Isabel. As many as you want. It followed that he would not be upset to find out that he had already succeeded in making a child with her. So why did her stomach feel like the US Olympic gymnastics team had taken up residence?
Maybe because of the way Alex had reacted on their wedding night, believing she had married him only to have a baby and was even willing to force herself to make love to him without desiring him in order to get pregnant. She still couldn't believe he had been so blind, but what if he still was?
What if he still saw her getting pregnant right away as an indication that she cared more for the idea of having a baby than for him? Who would have thought a man as self-confident as Alex could have those kinds of insecurities? She had to believe he had gotten over them. The prospect of him reacting badly to discovering her news diminished some of the joy she felt about her condition. She wanted him to be as happy about becoming a parent as she was.
She had to admit that only part of her nervousness came from the prospect of telling Alex about the baby. The rest of her anxiety stemmed from the knowledge that she had married Alex for far more complicated motives than getting pregnant. She'd gone into this marriage with her eyes wide open. She knew she loved Alex and that his feelings for her might be limited to the physical need a man has for a woman.
She had married him because the idea of spending the rest of her life without him hurt too much. She hadn't wanted to lose someone else she loved. She realized that subconsciously she had even agreed to the speedy marriage because deep down she had feared that Alex would change his mind.
Her current emotional turmoil resulted from the fact that regardless of how much Alex had pressed for their union, she felt as if she'd trapped him. Her pregnancy would be one more tie that would bind Alex to her. Amidst her joy at the concept of becoming a mother, there lurked an unholy relief that once Alex knew of his impending fatherhood, he would never change his mind about their marriage.
He was far too committed to family and duty to respond in any other way, even if he wasn't happy about it. And that was what made her feel the icy shards of guilt and trepidation that wouldn't go away.
Alex had never said he loved her. He wanted her. He even liked her. He also needed her.
She had seen it in his eyes. And she knew now that it was not just for sex. He needed her, but that wasn't the same thing as love. Or was it? Alex was a man. A man's tender emotions would exhibit themselves differently from a woman's. Wouldn't they?
She took a deep breath and closed the picnic basket, wishing her motives for marrying Alex had been simpler, wishing his motive for marrying her had been love. Because then she would be ecstatically happy right now and she wasn't. Only in discovering her pregnancy had she faced the terrible truth that without love, the family she planned to build could be every bit as empty as the one she had grown up in.
She would have gladly waited to have a baby if only she could be sure of her husband's love. Only that wasn't the way it had worked out. As Nanny Number Five used to say, hindsight
is always twenty-twenty. She was pregnant now and she could only hope that Alex loved her, because he certainly hadn't said anything.
She reminded herself that he had been willing to plan a honeymoon although he had something big going on at CIS. Her happiness was important enough for him to sacrifice his own plans—even his work plans. That said something about his feelings for her, surely. It certainly implied more genuine concern than her father had ever shown.
But it didn't tell her diddly about how Alex would respond to the news of her pregnancy. She knew he would accept the responsibility. He would even accept her right to get pregnant per their agreement, but would he be happy about the baby? Squaring her shoulders, Isabel decided there was only one way to find out: tell him.
* * *
Walking into the CIS office building a few minutes later she found Miss Richards, that paragon among secretaries, sitting sentinel at her desk.
Her brows rose above the line of her glasses at the sight of the picnic basket, but she merely said, "Good afternoon, Mrs. Trahern."
"Good afternoon, Miss Richards. I'm here to have lunch with Alex."
The secretary looked at her computer screen and clicked her mouse twice. "I don't see an appointment, Mrs. Trahern."
Isabel stifled her irritation and smiled. "Wives do not need appointments, Miss Richards. It's one of their perks."
Isabel did not expect her comment to have the effect it did. Miss Richards's eyes darkened with pain and her face lost what little color it had. She took several shallow breaths but did not speak.
Isabel instinctively reached out to touch the secretary's arm. "Are you all right?"
Taking a deeper breath and expelling it slowly, Miss Richards nodded. "Yes, of course."
Her expression once again settled into a professional mask. "Mr. Trahern does not wish to be disturbed."
"Is he in a meeting?" Perhaps Isabel would have to come back later.