by Mallory Rush
"And after that...?"
"After that," he said through taut lips, "we talk about why we're not looking at houses."
Faith burrowed her face into the warmth of his chest, hiding the pleased smile curving her lips.
Chapter 7
Faith sucked in her gut. The full-length mirror was unforgivably honest in its assessment. The short gold-lamé dress showcased her legs to their full advantage, but it hugged her middle, though once it had shimmered and freely swayed.
"I love you, baby, but you're not doing much for my ego," she muttered with an affectionate pat to her rounded tummy.
Slipping into a matching pair of heels that were snugger than she remembered, she paused when she heard Myles on the other side of the wall shutting a drawer. She wished she could watch as he went through his dressing ritual.
Did he put on his shirt before his pants, or his tie before his shoes? A thrill rushed through her as she thought of undressing him in reverse. The prospect was becoming more real with each day they lived together.
Smiling, Faith applied a sinfully-rich ruby shade of lipstick. He didn't want her to move into a house of her own. If she could only be sure his motives had nothing to do with the baby. She hated the niggling doubts of uncertainty, her own insecurities, which persisted despite the intimate turn of their relationship.
Where did his feelings for her begin and those for the baby end? If she wasn't carrying his child, would he want her as much, or care so deeply, or come close to a hissy fit because she kept looking for another place to live?
"Oh, stop it, would you?" she grumbled. "Quit acting like a woman who's jealous of her own child and so unsure of herself, she doesn't want to share."
After all, she'd been sharing him for so long, she should be used to it by now, shouldn't she? No, dammit. She needed him to want her for herself alone and for no other reason. Was that so much to ask?
A tap at the door caused her palms to sweat. Stealing a last glimpse at the mirror, Faith had to admit she did have a certain appeal, despite motherhood's generosity.
She grabbed her matching sequined bag and opened the door.
Myles stood with his elbow braced against the frame. His gaze traced downward from the seductive pile of her upswept hair to the flushed expectation of her glowing face and the sensual shimmer of the sexy dress that looked better on her now than when he'd seen it two Christmases before.
He whistled, his anxiety over how he was going to propose before the night was over, momentarily forgotten. "Lady," he growled, "you are a knockout. I'm starting to wonder if it's your personal mission in life to push me over the edge."
"Like it?" She turned a full circle.
He caught her by the waist and pulled her against him. The lamé at her bosom connected against the starched front of his tuxedo shirt. His hand slid up her back and toyed with a coy curl brushing her nape.
"I love it," he murmured. "Just like I love—"
You. The word lodged in his throat with a jolt. For a moment he was too stunned to fill in the gap. He'd almost said he loved her. Was he in love with Faith? Was that what all these new emotions and possessive instincts were about?
As she continued to stare at him wide-eyed, her lips parting as her breath caught with a soft, inviting gasp, he grappled with the possibility. His gaze settled on her lips, lips he wanted to nibble and devour until her lipstick was smeared and he licked the remains from her mouth.
"Your hair," he said roughly while he flirted with a pin holding it up. "I love your hair. But I'd love to take it down even better."
What did he see before she quickly covered her reaction with a teasing smile? Disappointment? Had she wanted more? Or had he simply wanted her to want more and imagined the softly sighed "Oh."
"I could wear it down, if you want."
"Leave it up. I can spend the night thinking about taking it down later."
"You make 'later' sound like a promise." She brushed her lips over his. "Or maybe a threat. You said we had to talk tonight."
"We'll talk, all right. But I'm learning you're better persuaded with the kind of language that doesn't require an abundance of words." His hands lowered to fan over her buttocks, and he pulled her to him.
She rubbed against him with a feline grace and he heard her purr of desire as he fit his tongue into the warm hollow in her throat.
"Lord, woman. I'd be jealous of all the men in the restaurant if I didn't know you were carrying my baby."
Her motions stilled and he looked at her quizzically. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," she said faintly. "I... I just realized if we don't leave soon, we'll keep your people waiting. Let me grab my coat and we'll go."
Myles stared after her, uncertain what had turned the heated tide. He wasn't any closer to an answer as he took her purple coat and drew it around her with a kiss, which she didn't return with ample fervor.
Once in the roadster, he glanced over at Faith, who stared out the window with only an occasional half-smile in his direction.
"You're quiet."
"Just thinking about my work," she said evasively.
"I know your work's important, but my concern is that it doesn't interfere with your health."
"My health's fine," she retorted. "Quit fussing over me like a mother hen, okay?"
She studied the passing buildings with undue interest, avoiding his startled expression.
"Tight fit in this car," he said, hoping to ease the slight tension. "Once the baby's here, I think we'll need a bigger one."
"I have my sedan. It has plenty of room for me and a car seat."
Me and a car seat? So much for his power of persuasion. His grip tightened on the leather-bound steering wheel.
"Don't I rate a space?" he asked with an edge of frustration.
"That depends," she said a bit shortly herself. "I usually drive my own car, and I'm sure the baby's things will take a lot of room."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means we both know this baby comes first, and you can park your buns in the trunk if you want to join us."
"I don't like the sound of that." He flipped off the CD player and in the sudden charged silence looked away from the road long enough to shoot her a glare. "You make it sound like the baby's all yours and I can tag along for the ride."
"Aren't you?" she said peevishly, returning his glare.
"For crying out loud, Faith, you're talking nonsense. We agreed this was our child. Not to mention what's happening between us."
"Us?" she sniffed.
"Yes, us. What do you think last night was about?" He stopped the roadster short of the restaurant entrance where the valet stood waiting. "I've got the hots for the mother of my child. If that's a crime, I'm guilty. But you share the blame—strutting around in that bathrobe that's straining at the bust, wearing that dress that's going to have every man ogling you tonight so that I won't be able to keep my mind on business."
"I think you're giving me too much credit." Her lips tilted slightly upward, and he fought the urge to kiss them shut. Then she added hesitantly, "I doubt every man has a yen for pregnant women."
"This one does." He discerned the fading of her tentative smile. What was with her? Pregnant women! Who could figure them? Was she still feeling self-conscious about her figure? The heck if he knew, but it seemed as good a reason as anything for her mood swing.
"I like you pregnant," he added, hoping to put things right. "What's more, I'm thrilled as all get out that it's my baby. I can't wait to show you off to Larry and Carol."
Larry and Carol, I'd like you to meet my... my... sister-in-law? The woman who's carrying my baby? No, wait a minute.... This is Faith. You'll notice she's expecting, and I'm proud to say it's mine, but please disregard the fact we're not even engaged. And I'm sure good manners will dictate you won't mention how shocked you are since my loss is still recent.
Good manners, bull, Myles thought. They'd be curious, if not inquisitively rud
e.
"Myles?" Faith said when he continued to stare grimly at the entrance. "What's wrong?"
"Just getting a grip."
A sleek limo passed them with a short honk. The valet opened the door, and a silver-haired woman draped in mink and diamonds accepted his hand. A balding gentleman in a dinner jacket with a cigar between his teeth emerged on her heels.
"Larry and Carol," Myles muttered. "Why couldn't they be late as usual?"
"You don't sound too happy they're here. Are you worried about something?"
No, Faith. Nothing like that. I'm just trying to come to terms with how the devil we're going to handle this whole situation tonight. I've been so wrapped up with how I'm going to ask you to marry me, I didn't think ahead. Not to mention that my plans are getting more botched by the minute, and there's next to no time to salvage this crazy mess I don't understand any more than I understand when I started failing in love with you.
"Look," he said, sighing, while the other couple signaled in their direction. "I don't know what I said or did or how we ended up getting into an argument. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I'll try to make it up to you, but you're going to have to level with me. It takes two to make things work and figure out what went wrong. Whether what we've got is only for a night"—he took a deep breath—"or a lifetime, I don't want to waste it with petty misunderstandings."
Their gazes locked. When she laid her hand over his, he hoped it was a sign of encouragement. Anything to ease his apprehension so that he could focus on getting through what was bound to be one helluva strained dinner.
"I'm sorry, too, Myles," she said. "I don't know what gets into me lately. I'm so manic, I'm driving myself crazy. I didn't mean to take my... my nervousness out on you. Especially tonight. I told you I would always be there for you, only so far I'm not doing a very good job."
"Wrong. You're the brightest spot in my life—you, and Junior." Ignoring his backer, who was about twenty feet away but was scrutinizing them with increasing interest, Myles brought her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss there. "Think we could call it a truce and start the night from scratch?"
"Why don't we just edit out the ride and keep the rest?"
"Sounds like a winner to me. But just one question before we tackle dinner with these two. You're sure it's just nerves or hormones? You're not upset with me about something else?"
"I'm sure. It's not your fault that I want—" She glanced down at her stomach and stopped short.
"Not my fault that you want what? Spit it out, Faith. I'm not moving the car until the air is cleared."
"Nothing, Myles. Let's pull up. They're coming this way."
"Tough." He had to get to the bottom of this before things could unravel even more. "They can bang on the windows for all I care, but we're not budging until this is settled. Business can wait. Anything that's affecting us personally can't."
Faith jerked her attention to the oncoming couple and rushed on. "All I meant was, it's not your fault I want to impress them. I'm afraid the dinner will be awkward."
Myles grimaced. "Awkward? I think that's a fair assumption. But we'll get through it—together. And as far as impressing anyone goes, you're worried about nothing. I'm impressed, and that's all that counts."
He stamped his assertion with a firm kiss on her mouth, then drove the roadster forward. He waved at Larry, who had visibly clamped down hard on his stubby cigar while Carol nearly slumped out of her mink with an expression of incredulity.
They'd seen the kiss and were obviously shocked. Too bad, Myles decided. He wasn't going to act as though Faith was less to him than she was. Even if the other couple had adored Gloria. Lord only knew what they were thinking. Once they got a gander at Faith's stomach, questions were going to be blunt. The whole surrogate fiasco was none of their concern, but he'd be damned before he'd pretend the baby wasn't his. He was as proud as punch and didn't give a tinker's damn what anyone else thought.
Except for the issue of legitimacy. It raised the hackles on his neck just thinking about his child being considered a bastard.
"Are they nice?" Faith asked anxiously as the valet sprang forward and opened her low-slung door.
"Nice. Conservative. And rich enough to be outspoken without worrying too much about stepping on someone else's toes." His gaze lowered to her belly as she stepped out. "They're also very family oriented. Ask about their grandkids, and the conversation won't run dry."
"But what if they ask about—" She gestured to her midsection. "What will I say?"
"Leave it to me, sweetheart. I'll handle them. Just relax and let me take care of any explanations."
He opened his door, but before his feet could touch ground, Carol and Larry had reached her.
"And you are?" they were saying while neither seemed capable of looking beyond Faith's stomach. Myles quickly hurried around to drape a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
"I'm—" She bit her bottom lip. "I'm Faith. Faith Taylor. You must be Carol and Larry."
"Not Gloria's sister?" they said in incredulous unison.
"Larry and Carol," Myles said, "this is someone you've heard a lot about. Please say hello to—"
"Your sister-in-law," Carol supplied as she continued to shake her head. "Though what I saw a minute ago couldn't pass for casual, and really, Myles, how could you... with Gloria barely—"
"How are your grandchildren?" Faith interjected frantically. "I'd like to hear all about them."
Everyone went silent. Larry chewed his cigar and studied her with undisguised curiosity. Faith instinctively hugged her middle. Carol opened her mouth, then shut it. A muscle tensed in Myles's jaw while he gritted his teeth.
"Save your judgments for someone else," he said with quiet control. "We've had a lot happen to us that doesn't bear sharing with other people. But you can rest assured that despite appearances, Gloria was never cheated." Myles pulled Faith close to his side while he fixed the couple with a warning stare. "That said, I'd like you to meet Faith. Not only is she having our child"—he took a deep, steadying breath—"she's going to be my wife."
Chapter 8
Three pairs of eyes locked on Myles. He desperately wanted to see Faith's reaction, but at the same time he was afraid to look.
She tensed beside him and gasped aloud.
Larry saved Myles the trouble of digging himself in any deeper by extending his hand and grasping Myles's in a firm, gentleman's grip.
"Congratulations," Larry said. He nudged his wife and said, "Carol, don't you have something to say?"
"Yes, of course," she said distantly, seeming to be in shock. "Congratulations. We hope you'll be very happy. And... um, I suppose congratulations are in order on your apparent... uh, great expectations. Assuming I heard right. You did say it's yours, Myles?"
"Carol," her husband said in a warning tone.
"Definitely mine," Myles asserted before venturing a glance at Faith. "And so is Faith. Aren't you, dear?"
She was staring at him in disbelief. His eyes begged her not to dispute him.
"Yes," she murmured faintly. He tightened his hold as she swayed slightly and nearly lost her balance. Her teeth began to chatter. "Could we go inside? I'm feeling a bit chilled."
Myles solicitously patted her hand, which did indeed feel icy, and led everyone inside the restaurant.
Myles was quick to help her off with her wrap. Seizing the moment for a private word, he whispered, "Please, just go along with it. Ad-lib when you have to, don't let her get you alone in the ladies' room, and nudge me under the table if you're in a jam. Please, Faith. Do this for me. I have my reasons."
"Whatever they are, they'd better be pretty damned good. How could you, Myles," she whispered sharply. "You could have at least given me notice you were going to pull such a ridiculous stunt."
"Sorry. I didn't know it myself until you were out of the car and about to get pummeled by Carol's nosy questions. You have to admit I didn't get us in such dire straights all by my lonesome. I'm just
doing my best to clean up the mess."
"Well, you certainly could have fooled me. Your great idea to clean up the mess just thickened the gravy. I'd like to strangle you for putting me in this kind of a spot."
"But you'll back me up?"
She hesitated, and his hands tensed at her shoulders.
"I'll back you up. But you'd better watch it under the table because any nudge you get from me is going to be a kick in the shin."
He smiled politely, realizing they were being watched, and kissed her sweetly upon the cheek.
"Just try to remember we're a happy couple."
"Right. Madly in love."
The sarcastic quip was a brutal strike to his own newly realized emotions. He tried to harden himself against it, but failed miserably.
"Speak for yourself," he said in defense.
"If you'd just give me a chance for once, I would."
Her whispered retort was sharp, but he thought he discerned hurt in the depths of her stormy eyes. The hurt wasn't hers alone. Her outrage was justified, but dammit, did she have to act as though the idea of marriage to him was so distasteful? She'd just have to develop a taste for it, by God, because marriage was what he wanted and marriage was what he would get.
When the maitre d' sat them, Myles made it a point to situate himself next to Faith, with the other couple across the elegantly set table.
Myles reached beneath it to squeeze Faith's hand in reassurance, but Faith avoided him, folding her tapered fingers together, her long, ruby tinted nails contrasting vividly against the linen white.
They were saved the necessity for small talk by being handed menus.
"Would you like me to order for you, Faith?" Myles inquired.
"No thank you," she said too politely. "I'll order for myself this time." She proceeded to study the menu with concentrated interest.