by BETH KERY
She heard a knock at her front door. Topsy, her new puppy, began to yap loudly from the utility room. Her reflection in the mirror had previously been rosy-cheeked in anxious anticipation at going to dinner with Ryan. At the sound of his knock all of the color drained away.
She left the bathroom and hurried down the hallway to the front door. She couldn’t help but relive racing toward the front door to greet him on Christmas Eve. Tonight’s anxiety was worse, though. Much worse.
She swung open the front door. “Hi,” she greeted upon seeing his tall, broad shouldered shadow on her stoop. “Come on in. I’m sorry about the racket.”
“You got a dog?” Ryan asked, stepping into the foyer. Faith backed up, making room for him.
“Yes. A few weeks ago,” she said, switching on the foyer light. For a split second they both examined each other. Faith blushed. Was he, too, recalling the other time he’d entered her house and they’d stood in this exact spot, inspecting each other with a sort of breathless curiosity? He looked fantastic—male and rugged, wearing a pair of jeans that emphasized his long legs and narrow hips, a white shirt and a worn dark brown leather flight jacket.
“You look great,” he said.
“Thanks. You like nice, too,” Faith murmured, feeling embarrassed. She’d worried she’d overdressed in the black skirt, leather boots and forest-green sweater. They weren’t going on a date, after all. Despite that, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from taking extra time with her grooming, even spending the ridiculous amount of time it took to straighten her hair with a flatiron.
She waved toward the interior of the house. “I just have to put Topsy in her crate, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Topsy?” he asked, and she realized he was following her. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Yes, she was the runt of the litter from one of my oldest patients, a golden retriever named Erica,” Faith explained breathlessly as they walked through the dining room and entered the kitchen. “All of Erica’s purebred puppies went like hotcakes, but we had more trouble finding homes for this litter. Erica had an unexpected love affair with a local playboy—a spaniel-poodle mix. I was able to find homes for all of Topsy’s brothers and sisters, but poor Topsy remained unclaimed.”
“And so you couldn’t resist adopting him...her?”
“Yes. Topsy’s a she.”
“You told me on Christmas Eve that you had a strict rule about pet adoption.”
Faith paused next to the gaited entryway to the utility room. She blinked when she saw Ryan’s mouth curved in a grin, his gaze warm on her face.
“If I took in every patient who needs a home that comes through my practice I’d be out of a home myself,” she said.
Ryan didn’t speak, just continued to study her with that knowing, sexy smile. Topsy yapped impatiently behind her.
Faith sighed and shrugged sheepishly. Ryan had her number, all right. “Well, I had a moment of weakness when I looked into Topsy’s brown eyes. And like I told you,” she said, her cheeks turning warmer even at the memory of their former meeting here in this house, “I had to take in Cleo—she’s diabetic, and I couldn’t convince anyone to do her injections every day. Smokey doesn’t count, either, because who wouldn’t give a home to a little thing like that?” Faith said, waving at the three-legged, pale gray cat that hobbled fleetly into the kitchen after them.
“There’s no reason to be apologetic because you have a kind heart,” he said quietly. He glanced down to his feet when Smokey brushed against his ankles. He bent and stroked the affectionate feline. Faith had been so offset by his candid compliment that she was glad for the interruption.
“Are you still serving as the president of the Animal Advocates Alliance?” he asked a moment later, standing.
“Oh, yes,” Faith said enthusiastically, glad for a safer topic. Ryan knew about her charity work from Jesse. She’d been extremely touched when he’d made a generous donation to both the Armed Forces Foundation and the Animal Advocates Alliance in Jesse’s name following the chopper crash that had killed him. She unhooked the gate that kept Topsy in the utility room. “The annual fundraiser ball is next week. I put a lot of hard work into it. Well?” she asked, glancing back at him. “Would you like to meet the Queen of Cute?”
“I can’t wait,” he said, walking toward her.
She started to open the gate wide enough for both of them to squeeze into the utility room without releasing the excited puppy, but noticed Ryan stared at her back door.
“What happened here?” he asked, pausing to look at the improvised “lock”—a thick piece of wood nailed to each side of the door. His eyebrows slanted in worry. “Nobody tried to break in, did they?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing. The old lock came loose, and I haven’t had a chance to hire a locksmith to come and replace it yet.” She shrugged. “It’s not very pretty, but it’ll keep things out. I’ve had a real rush of patients at my office as the weather warms up, and I just haven’t had a chance to get it fixed.”
“I’ll come and put a lock on it tomorrow.”
“Ryan, that’s not necessary,” she said, set off balance by his steadfast offer.
“It’s not a big deal.” Instead of waiting for her to inch back the gate—or to protest his offer—he just stepped over it.
“Hi, Topsy,” he said.
Topsy wiggled in irrepressible excitement. She looked like a caramel-colored powder puff.
“I introduce you to Her Highness, Topsy-Turvy Blackwell.”
“I was hoping she’d be a little bigger,” he said.
“Oh, she’ll still grow quite a bit.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t look like she’ll ever be much of a watchdog, does she?” he asked dubiously. He noticed her equally confused expression. “It is awfully isolated out here on this road.”
He was obviously worried about the baby, Faith realized. “It’s very safe here in the country, Ryan. I grew up in this house, and we’ve never had any problems. This area has one of the lowest crime rates in the state. It’s quite safe and close to the population I serve, as well. Lots of my patients live on farms hereabouts.”
Ryan didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he refrained from disagreeing with her. Instead he bent his tall frame to pet the vibrating puppy. “How come you named her Topsy-Turvy Blackwell?”
“Oh. It’s my maiden name. I plan to use it again, I just haven’t gotten around to having it legally changed yet.”
He looked up, his eyelids narrowing on her. She felt x-rayed. “I see,” he said quietly, resuming petting Topsy.
“Do you?” Faith asked cautiously.
He didn’t answer for a moment as he stroked the wriggling puppy. “I think I do. That’s what you wanted to talk to me about tonight, isn’t it?”
Faith swallowed thickly. A heavy sensation pressed down on her chest. Ryan knew that Jesse had been unfaithful to her. How else to explain his shuttered gaze and apparent discomfort? She experienced a wilting sensation. It was illogical and stupid, she knew, but it shamed her, to suspect he knew of Jesse’s infidelities. No matter how much she rationally knew that Jesse had been in the wrong, she still felt vaguely substandard as a female, knowing he’d found other women more exciting than her, that she hadn’t been sufficiently worth it for him to deny temptation and remain faithful.
“Yes, it is what I wanted to discuss with you. Among other things,” she admitted, glancing away from his stare.
He nodded once and stood. “I guess we better get going, then.”
She agreed. He helped her to put the squirming puppy into the crate.
“Topsy may not be ferocious, but you were right. She’s the cutest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he observed a moment later as he opened the front door for her. Faith damned her pounding heart when he casually touched her waist as they w
alked together to his car.
“What are you hungry for?” she asked a few seconds later when he backed out of her driveway onto the rural road.
“I’ve already made reservations for dinner at Butch’s Dry Dock, downtown.” He glanced in her direction when she didn’t immediately respond. “Is that all right?”
“Oh...yes,” she said, flustered. “I love Butch’s.”
She couldn’t tell him his response had set her off guard because he’d planned dinner with her at one of the nicest restaurants in the area. Despite her self-admonishments to remember that this was an opportunity to settle business with the father of her baby, the evening was, indeed, starting to feel more and more like a date.
* * *
An hour later Faith watched as Ryan leaned against the high-backed booth at Butch’s, the remains of their delicious meal still on the table. Ryan had seemed intent on making her comfortable during their dinner, and his efforts were paying off. Her nervousness had slowly faded as the meal progressed and Ryan regaled her with some inevitable funny mistakes he’d made in starting up his business from scratch. It suddenly struck her that they hadn’t yet landed on the topic of Jesse. She wondered if Ryan was avoiding the issue purposefully.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Ryan asked, his eyes warm on her.
“It depends,” she said, a smile flickering across her mouth.
“What’s it been like for you? Being pregnant?”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes going wide. “It’s been...nice.”
“You haven’t been getting sick or anything?”
She nodded. “Yes, I got nauseous almost every day around the seven week mark, but believe it or not, I never threw up. It usually faded when I ate some crackers. I just had to make sure I didn’t let my stomach get empty. It’s gotten much better in the past week.”
“And fatigue?”
Again, she nodded, this time more emphatically. She paused while a busboy came to clear their table. “That was probably the worst of it.” She resumed when they were alone again. “Once I figured out why I felt like taking a nap by ten o’clock every morning, it seemed to help things, though.”
“When did you find out? That you were pregnant?” he asked.
“When I was about five weeks along.”
“I wish you would have called me.”
The back of her neck prickled with awareness at the sound of his low, resonant voice.
“I meant to tell you all along, Ryan. Please believe that. I was going to tell you at the same time I told my parents.”
“I believe you. You’re much too honest to make me think otherwise.”
She gave him a thankful smile. “I just wanted to get through my first trimester safely.”
“I understand,” he said. She searched his face. Seeing not a hint of anger, she sighed in relief.
“Ryan, there’s something I want us to be on the same page about,” she approached the topic cautiously after the waiter brought them coffee and tea. She sensed the tension that flew into his muscles.
“About Jesse?” he asked.
She nodded, took a deep breath for courage and blurted out the details of discovering Jesse’s infidelities. She was learning to read him, she realized after a minute or two of talking almost nonstop. Most people would have called his flat expression impassive, but that slight widening of his eyes meant all-out shock on Ryan’s face.
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “Melanie Shane contacted you, and told you about her affair with your husband?”
Faith nodded and poured hot water over her tea bag. The pain that went through her at the vivid memory was lessening now, altering from the stab of betrayal to the ache of regret. Mostly she was mad at herself for not facing the truth earlier. Jesse was charming and funny and dynamic, but he was not a one-woman man.
Nor a two-woman man, for that matter.
Sometimes it was just easier to be blind to the obvious.
“It was a few months before the crash. She found me through my veterinary practice’s website,” she said. She set down her spoon and met Ryan’s stare. “I’m just thankful that I happened to open the emails that morning. Often, Jane does it before me.”
Ryan shut his eyes briefly. Pain flickered across his hard face and was gone. “They had the most volatile relationship. Jesse and Melanie were either fighting like cats and dogs or they were—”
He stopped abruptly. Their stares held as she finished his sentence in her mind.
“When Melanie first wrote me, she was in quite a state,” Faith said after a long pause. “Apparently she’d discovered that Jesse had slept with a lieutenant who trained airmen on computers at the airport. Melanie was pretty upset by it.”
Ryan grimaced. “Damn. I can’t believe Melanie did that.” He exhaled heavily. “Strike that. I can. She’d get herself into a real state at times, when it came to Jesse. I suppose she had herself convinced she was doing you a favor by pouncing on you with the news?”
Faith nodded. “Bingo. You’d think we were blood sisters, both betrayed by the devil.”
Ryan grunted. “When in reality, Melanie was feeling furious and rejected by what Jesse had done. She ran blabbing to you because she knew it would hurt Jesse. She never gave a thought or care about what she was doing to you. I’m sorry, Faith.”
“It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for.”
A muscle flickered subtly in his cheek. She shook her head sadly.
“You are not responsible for Jesse’s actions,” she stated the obvious.
“I’m responsible for my own.”
Faith swallowed uneasily. Is that how he thought of her and the baby? A responsibility? A burden?
“What was Melanie like?” she asked shakily after a moment, trying to divert his attention.
Ryan shrugged and poured some cream into his coffee. “A good chopper pilot. Volatile. Bit of a daredevil. Feisty exterior with a vulnerable core,” he mumbled succinctly.
“She was...pretty?”
He glanced up, pausing in the action of setting down the small pitcher. “Some men might have found her attractive,” he said with what struck Faith as forced neutrality.
She stared at the snowy-white tablecloth. Much to her surprise, given the topic, she wasn’t that upset. She’d suspected all along she wasn’t as devastated by the news as she should have been that Jesse was unfaithful. She’d been hurt. Jesse had been her husband, after all, and she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with him—before she’d discovered his infidelities.
But deep down she knew that if Jessie’d been the love of her life, that email from Melanie—and Jesse’s eventual admission that Melanie’s accusations were valid—wouldn’t have just been an unpleasant shock. It would have been a lancing, debilitating blow to her spirit.
Jesse had been so full of life. She’d often reflected after she’d learned of his infidelity that she didn’t want to be Jesse’s wife anymore, but she would have wished him well. Always. It hurt, to think of him not out there in the world somewhere...raising hell, warming someone with his smile and his jokes, hopefully finding the happiness she couldn’t give him.
She became aware of Ryan’s gaze on her—warm, concerned, wary. So, he had known all along about Jesse’s womanizing. How did that knowledge factor into their impulsive, impassioned tryst on Christmas Eve? How would it play into the fact that they were going to have a baby together? It was becoming increasingly clear that Ryan felt some sort of misguided responsibility toward her.
“Don’t pity me,” she said.
“I don’t pity you,” he said, his eyebrows pinching together in apparent bewilderment at her quiet forcefulness.
“No?” she asked, calmly removing the chamomile teabag from her cup. “You don’t have some kind of knight
in shining armor syndrome going on for the scorned wife? You said that you visited me last Christmas Eve because you wanted to make sure I was okay...safe. Now that I’m pregnant, I don’t want you feeling regretful, Ryan. I need a father for my baby, not a guilty lover. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
The spoon he’d been using to stir his coffee fell several inches to the saucer with a loud clinking sound. “That’s insulting.”
She met his stare levelly, difficult though it was. His eyes blazed like black fire. “Then why did you act so guilty about Christmas Eve? I’m not the fragile victim you’re imagining. If that was part of the appeal that night, you were misguided,” she said quietly.
He placed his forearms on the table and leaned toward her, his nostrils slightly flared. “I didn’t know whether or not you knew about Jesse and Melanie on Christmas Eve. For all I knew, you were still grieving the love of your life. I wanted you so much, I went ahead and did what I did anyway. So much for the idea that I’m pitying you.”
The anger clinging thickly to Ryan’s words didn’t have quite the effect on her that she would have thought. For some reason, the memory of their fevered joining chose that moment to bombard her consciousness like rapid-fire bullets—Ryan’s hands moving over her in carnal worship, his mouth closing over the tip of her breast and the answering sharp pain of longing in her womb, the feeling of him filling her until she was inundated by him, ready to burst with her desire.
By slow degrees she became aware that the blend of voices and clanking cutlery and china had become a distant buzz in her ears. Ryan blinked as if awakening from a trance and sat back in the booth.