My Secret Wife

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “But what if he never forgives me?” Penny asked, starting to cry all over again.

  “Then at least he’ll know the truth,” Gabe said, looking upset for reasons, Maggie thought, that had very little to do with Penny, and everything to do with him. “And you’ll know you did the right thing in the end.”

  Chapter Eight

  “That really bothered you, didn’t it?” Maggie said, as she and Gabe walked out to the motel parking lot. Directly behind Gabe’s sports car was a big tour bus, blocking their exit from the lot. Groups of slow-moving sightseers were disembarking from the bus, bags and parcels in hand. It was barely time for dinner, and yet they all looked absolutely exhausted.

  “What?” Gabe looked across the street, where mobile souvenir and snow-cone stands had been set up, and were now doing brisk business.

  Maggie cast a brief, longing look at the icy treats being distributed, before turning back to Gabe. “The fact that Penny didn’t tell her husband what was going on.”

  “Yes, it did.” Gabe took her elbow and ushered her across the street, where they stood in line and ordered two large snow cones. Cherry for her, grape for him.

  “Any particular reason why?” Maggie continued her quest to understand him as the two of them strolled a little farther down the street, until they reached a cluster of shops, with a central outdoor atrium.

  “Probably because I identify with Lane.” Gabe said shortly, as he led her over to a park bench beneath a shade tree.

  Maggie tilted her head to the side and drew another, deeper breath. “Because—?”

  Gabe frowned as he sat down beside her. Lips compressed grimly, he said, “Because I was in a similar situation once. Involved with a woman who decided not to tell me the truth about what was really going on with her.”

  Maggie could see his hurt behind the matter-of-fact words. “It sounds serious.”

  “It was.” Silence fell between them as they both sipped on their snow cones.

  “I’d really like to hear about it,” Maggie encouraged finally.

  Gabe blew out an uneasy breath, looking less willing than ever to confide in her. But to his credit he turned his eyes to her and continued anyway, in a low, gruff tone, “It happened when I was eighteen. I was still reeling from my parents’ divorce and all the turmoil in the family, and I got a lot more involved with my high-school girlfriend than I should have.”

  Maggie could tell by the anguished look on his face the worst was yet to come. “Involved in what way?” she asked warily.

  “Sexually—we were sleeping together and we were way too young.”

  Maggie blinked, amazed. That didn’t sound like the Gabe she knew. He was Mr. Responsibility, always putting others’ needs above his own. She could tell by the guilt in his eyes that he wasn’t proud of what he had done. “Did she cheat on you—the way Penny nearly cheated on Lane?” Maggie asked curiously, still struggling to make the connection.

  Gabe shook his head, at peace about that much. After a moment, he continued in a voice that was low, sad, introspective. “Just the opposite. Lynnette was really devoted to me, and I was to her. But we were still pretty young and we both knew it. Anyway, when we were about to head off to college—I was going to Duke in North Carolina and she was going to the University of Pennsylvania, Lynette asked me to elope with her.” Gabe shook his head. Finished with his snow cone, he got up and threw the wrapper away. Maggie did the same.

  The two of them sat back down on the bench, and Gabe stretched his long legs out in front of him and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “I thought she was nuts. I mean I loved her—but marriage? At eighteen? When we weren’t even going to be living in the same state?”

  “So you said no.”

  Gabe nodded grimly. He looked even sadder and more regretful as he said, “What Lynnette hadn’t told me was that she was pregnant with my baby or that soon after arriving in Philadelphia, she’d had a miscarriage. I don’t know why Lynnette didn’t go to a doctor, or get the medical attention she needed. Maybe she was afraid or thought if she ignored the symptoms they would just go away. In any case, her roommate thought Lynnette just had the flu. By the time they got her to the emergency room, it was too late. The resulting pelvic infection was so massive, she died a few hours later. Her parents blamed me, and I blamed myself, too,” Gabe confessed, looking angry and upset with himself once again. “I had obviously let Lynnette down in some fundamental way, even before she asked me to elope with her. Otherwise, she would have just told me she was pregnant. And I would have married her and been the best husband and father in the world to her and the baby. But she didn’t give me the chance to make things right. Lynnette just assumed—the way Penny Stringfield is assuming now—that I wouldn’t do the right thing or stand by her.”

  “Oh, Gabe,” Maggie said softly, her heart going out to him. “I’m so sorry about your loss.” She could see it had hurt him terribly. Wanting desperately to comfort him, the way he had comforted her when she was hurt, she reached over and touched his arm. “Is that when you decided to break all records being a Good Samaritan?” No one did more good deeds than Gabe. And his efforts made sense to her now in a way they hadn’t before—Gabe was still trying to make up for what had happened then.

  Gabe nodded. He took his hands out of his pockets, covered both her hands with both of his, and looked deep into her eyes. “I promised myself I would never be responsible for anyone’s unhappiness again. That’s why I wasn’t able to be with you, after you ended your plans to marry my brother, even though we both knew how attracted we were to each other. I didn’t want to hurt Chase or the rest of the family. But now that Chase has found his own happiness and given us his blessing to pursue whatever this is between us, I know it’s all right.”

  Maggie felt free to be with Gabe, too, though she hadn’t really ever felt she needed Chase’s permission. She just wasn’t sure that Gabe was pursuing her for the right reasons. Was marrying and impregnating her just another act of kindness on his part—an effort to keep righting his wrongs? she wondered uneasily, as they stood and headed back to the parking lot where he’d left his sports car. Or, even more disturbing yet, was it an unconscious attempt to—in some way—replace the woman and baby he had lost so many years ago?

  Maggie wished she could say it wasn’t an attempt at soul-deep redemption.

  But knowing Gabe, knowing how good and decent and kind he was at heart, knowing how guilty and upset he still felt, she couldn’t quite say the two things weren’t connected in his heart and his soul.

  MAGGIE COULD TELL Gabe was concerned about the determined way she kept the conversation on the rebuilding of his kitchen during the drive back to her place. So she wasn’t surprised when he parked the car in her driveway and took her hand in his. Looking at her as if there were only one reply she could possibly make, he suggested softly, “Have dinner with me.”

  Maggie’s heart skipped a beat at the ardor she saw reflected in his eyes. “Just dinner?” she asked lightly.

  Gabe shrugged and looked at her with complete honesty. “I’ve got to admit,” he said in a low, persuasive voice, “I wouldn’t mind making love with you again.”

  Maggie knew if she made love with him again—that night—she wouldn’t just fall in love with him, she would begin to feel as if they were really married to each other. As much as she secretly wanted that to be the case, she knew it really wasn’t. “We set this up as a business arrangement, Gabe,” she reminded persistently.

  Gabe shrugged and tightened his grip on her hands. “Family business, maybe,” he conceded.

  Was Gabe her family? Maggie wondered. Or, assuming that they had made a baby that very afternoon, just her child’s? Confused, her head spinning with her need for him, Maggie wedged distance between them, and said, “I need time to think about everything that’s happened. I think you do, too.”

  Gabe didn’t deny that was the case as they both got out of the car. He merely strolled around to her side of
the car and said, “If you’re still ovulating—if you haven’t gotten pregnant yet—I think we should keep trying.”

  Maggie did, too. But not when she was still feeling so vulnerable and mixed-up.

  She swallowed hard around the tension in her throat. “Tomorrow will be soon enough,” she said firmly.

  Gabe looked at her as if he wanted to make love to her all night long. “If you change your mind, all you have to do is call me.”

  MAGGIE DID CHANGE her mind, about a thousand times. But, determined not to confuse Gabe’s hot and heavy pursuit of her for something more permanent and lasting the way she had before with Gabe and with his brother Chase, she stopped herself from calling Gabe. Instead, she concentrated on making sure she had all the materials needed for his kitchen ordered, via fax, by the end of the evening. Then she took a long bubble bath and fell into bed, exhausted, to dream all night long of Gabe and the way he had made love to her that afternoon.

  Morning found her at Gabe’s place, still wanting him and wondering at the wisdom of her actions—potential baby or no. But there was no sign of Gabe. When he finally did arrive—in the same clothes he had been wearing when he dropped her off at her place the night before—it was clear, from his unshaven face and red-rimmed eyes, that he had been out all night.

  “Rough night?” Enrico asked, giving Gabe the speculative once-over.

  Maggie knew what Enrico was thinking—he was thinking Gabe had been out painting the town red with some other woman.

  “And then some,” Gabe confirmed, yawning. “We had several critical patients admitted at the hospital last night.” He dragged a weary hand over his face. “All I want to do is fall into bed.”

  “Uh—only one problem with that,” Maggie said.

  “We’re going to be hammering,” Luis explained.

  “And drilling and sawing,” Manuel added.

  Gabe looked pained. And, if possible, even more desperately in need of rest.

  Maggie knew there was only one thing to do. “You can sleep at my place,” she said. All eyes turned upon her. The room vibrated with the weight of the male disapproval turned her way.

  “I think it’s up to the client to find his own sleeping arrangements,” Enrico cut in not so delicately.

  “Yes,” Luis agreed, in the same tone, as he glared at Gabe. “That isn’t something the business normally provides.”

  “I also think Dr. Deveraux should sleep at a friend or family member’s place,” Manuel weighed in, sending a paternal look Maggie’s way.

  Maggie had no doubt her parents would have said the same, had they been here to see her make such an unusual offer. Unfortunately for her three crew members, Maggie wouldn’t have been prone to take her folks’ advice on the subject either.

  “Listen, guys,” Maggie said, pleasantly, as she fished the keys out of her pocket. She shot Manuel, Luis and Enrico firm looks. “I know you mean well, but I can make these decisions all by myself.”

  Gabe waved off her offer. “It’s no problem. I can go to a hotel,” he said.

  “Actually, it is a problem.” Already removing the house key from her key ring, Maggie turned back to her crew decisively. If she let them get away with telling her how to live her life once, they would think it was their male duty to keep doing it. And that she did not want, no matter how well-meant the interference. “I’m a grown woman,” she reiterated patiently, her low precise tone of voice clearly emphasizing every word. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Luis, Manuel and Enrico gave her mutually skeptical looks.

  “And I say Gabe sleeps at my place today,” Maggie continued firmly, handing Gabe the key. “Now let’s take a look at those plans, shall we?” She shoved the key ring back into her jeans pocket and headed out to the kitchen, her work boots ringing authoritatively with every step she took.

  GABE KNEW it was a bad decision on Maggie’s part—even before he saw the looks from her trio of protectors. Nevertheless, he felt duty-bound, as a friend, lover and a secret husband, to support her in whatever choice she made. Especially when it came to her construction business and private life. He owed her that and, given the fact that she had brought love and joy back into his life, not to mention the possibility of a baby he had wanted for a very long time but didn’t feel he deserved, so much more.

  As he could have predicted, however, her crew was not about to let the situation pass unremarked. While Maggie disappeared briskly, Manuel, Enrico and Luis lagged behind. Muscles flexed, legs braced as if for battle, they surrounded Gabe, like a very quiet, very determined mob. “Maggie may be our boss, but we watched her grow up and we love her like our own kids,” Manuel hissed.

  “I understand,” Gabe said, just as seriously, but in a low voice. He didn’t want Maggie hearing any of this, either.

  “You are not to hurt her,” Luis warned Gabe with a threatening scowl, looking quite willing to pummel sense into him if necessary, “or further damage her reputation in any way.”

  “Because if you do,” Enrico promised, as gravely as Maggie’s own father would have, had he still been alive, “you will be dealing with us.”

  “And we promise you,” Manuel finished heavily, reminding Gabe of the way he had hurt not just Maggie—but others in the past—“this time it won’t matter what Maggie says. We won’t let you get away with it.”

  LUIS, ENRICO AND MANUEL’S thinly veiled threat still ringing in his ears, Gabe headed over to Maggie’s beach house. Only after he had let himself in and headed for the bedroom did he realize he had forgotten to bring any clean clothes with him. Too tired to drive back to his own place, and for certain too guilty to subject himself to another well-deserved but withering lecture from Maggie’s trio of protectors, Gabe headed for her shower. Feeling weary to the bone, he washed off the grime from the last twenty-four hours, toweled off, and then headed—buck naked—for her bed. He figured, as he climbed between the scented sheets of her bed, that his lack of clothing wouldn’t matter. He’d be up and out of there long before she returned.

  Gabe’s head hit the pillow. Seconds later, he was asleep.

  He woke around 4:00 p.m. Aware he’d done nothing but dream of Maggie the entire time he’d been in her bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up. And that was when he heard a woman’s high-pitched exclamation of dismay and the crash of something heavy hitting the covered porch below.

  Gabe threw back the covers and raced to the bay windows overlooking the open-air porch. He looked down, expecting to see Maggie. Instead, there was a young woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, with a freckled face and waist-length curly red hair. She was wearing a bathing suit, nylon shorts and running shoes, and she had knocked a heavy clay planter full of geraniums off a patio table. It lay shattered at her feet. Backing up, an expression of mingled panic and dismay on her face, she dropped a note onto the painted wooden floor next to the sliding glass doors, covered it with a broken piece of pottery, and then headed back down the stairs leading up to the porch.

  “Hey!” Gabe said, but she was already running full-speed down the beach.

  Wondering what had the young girl so panicked—if she knew Maggie at all, she had to know Maggie would not be angry about a busted planter that could easily be replaced—Gabe walked back into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. Straightening, he grabbed a hand towel and blotted his face. And that was when he heard the soft feminine gasp of dismay. He pulled the towel away from his face, and saw Maggie standing in the middle of her bedroom. She was still in her work clothes: nice-fitting jeans, a long-sleeved navy-blue T-shirt and work boots, and she was blushing fiercely as her gaze dropped, almost unavoidably, to his crotch.

  Figuring it was too late to be upset about her seeing him sans clothes, and knowing there was little he could do about his instantly aroused state anyway, Gabe reached for his boxer shorts and slipped them on over the part of his anatomy that was already hard as a rock.

  “Did you see that girl?” Mag
gie demanded, recovering her composure at long last.

  Loving the pink blush of awareness in her cheeks, the innocence in her green eyes, Gabe smiled. “The one who broke your planter? Yeah, I did.”

  “Who is she?” Maggie demanded, putting her hands on her slender hips.

  Was it his imagination, Gabe wondered, or were her nipples suddenly pearling beneath the soft clinging knit of her T-shirt?

  Gabe shrugged and tried not to think about how nice it would be if he could get Maggie nearly naked, too. He was sure if they made love again, she’d begin to trust him a little more, as there were things that touch and a decided lack of inhibitions could convey a lot better than words any day. Not that she seemed to be wishing for the same thing—no, she looked as if she wanted to erect an electric fence around her. Anything to protect her heart and the successful solo life she had built for herself.

  Aware Maggie was waiting—rather impatiently, it seemed—for him to answer her question, and that his lower half was throbbing, Gabe shrugged his broad shoulders and said, “I have no idea who the girl was. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

  “Well, she left this.” Maggie handed him the note. It was written on fine quality ivory stationery and stained with potting soil.

  Their hands brushed as Gabe accepted it. His fingers tingling from the brief but potent contact, he opened the note up and read the scrawled words out loud, “Jane Doe has a family. They just don’t know it.”

  Frowning, he turned the note over to see if anything else had been written on it, but it was blank. He looked back at Maggie. “What does that mean?” he demanded.

  Maggie spread her hands wide, exclaimed, “Heck if I know.” She stared at Gabe, perplexed, “Why would that girl tell me, anyway?”

  Gabe took a moment to consider. “Maybe she knows you’ve visited Jane Doe at the hospital,” he speculated, at last.