Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  Laughter and raised voices carried to his ears from someplace down the hall. Of their own volition, his feet followed the sound. He came to a stop a few feet from the employee lounge. Holding very still, he stood in the doorway, silently watching. Balloons bobbed from a centerpiece on one of the tables, voices rose and laughter trailed from one side of the room to the other. Beth stood in the midst of it all, looking regal and poised. He wondered if he was the only one who saw the stiffness in her shoulders or the forced brightness in her smile.

  “Open mine next,” Kitty Garcia insisted, thrusting a brightly colored package into Beth’s hands.

  There was a lot of speculation as Beth slid her finger beneath a piece of tape and lifted the paper away. “Hold it up!” someone yelled. “This I’ve gotta see.”

  Using both hands, Beth pulled a see-through scrap of lace and red satin from the box. A blush tinged her cheeks, but she played along, holding the skimpy teddy to her body, smoothing her hand down its length. She chose that moment to look his way, her gaze meeting his from the other side of the room. Karen Sloane nudged her, and a heartbeat later, the other woman waved. Beth’s lips lifted in a semblance of a smile, and Tony felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him all over again. He returned Karen’s wave and did his best to return Beth’s smile, but it wasn’t easy. Hell, breathing wasn’t easy.

  “Come on in, Tony,” somebody yelled.

  Others took up the cry, but Tony only stood there, holding Beth’s gaze. She lowered her hands, the teddy dangling from two fingers. Something intense flared through him. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he’d never felt anything quite like it in his life. This wasn’t just a simple case of him wanting a woman. There was nothing simple about it.

  “Come on, Doctor! Have a piece of cake.”

  Tony hesitated, casting a cursory glance at the people in the room. He knew that if he took that next step, there would be no turning back. Glancing back at Beth, a jolt went through him, a thought close on its heels. Tony Petrocelli had been raised to trust two things: his Grandma Rosa’s homemade pasta sauce, and his gut instinct. And his gut instinct told him he wanted Bethany Kent.

  That want was complicated, not to mention confusing. But he’d been confused before, and truth be told, he liked complications, at least the kind that left him feeling strong and masculine and more alive than he’d felt in a long, long time.

  With his eyes trained on Beth, he walked into the room.

  Chapter Four

  “Goodbye, Beth, see you tomorrow!”

  “Yeah, bye, Bethany. Bye, Dr. Petrocelli!”

  “Goodbye! Thanks for everything,” Beth called from the doorway, waving as the last two guests left the party. Suddenly, the employee lounge seemed awfully quiet.

  “Would you close the door?” Tony asked from a few feet behind her.

  Although she would have preferred to postpone their conversation, she closed the door and slowly turned around. She hadn’t known what to make of the sight of him standing in the doorway half an hour ago, and she certainly didn’t know what to make of the sight of him standing an arm’s length away right now, but fear and hope were fighting over the butterflies in her stomach. And fear was winning.

  Tony was wearing his ordinary doctor attire—dress slacks, shirt and tie. There was, however, nothing ordinary about the barely there smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Rather than take the risk of reading too much into his expression, she waited for him to begin.

  Eyeing the lingerie and other gifts lying on a nearby table, he finally said, “Now that I know what goes on at bridal showers, I understand why my sisters like them so much. Add a stripper and a keg of beer, and they’re not much different from bachelor parties, are they?”

  From now on, Beth told herself, she was going to expect him to say the last thing she expected. Shaking her head slightly, she said, “Not all bridal showers are like this one. I had several prior to my first marriage, and believe me, they were all extremely prim and proper.”

  “No wonder the marriage failed.”

  He’d done it again. Surprised every coherent thought right out of her head. Luckily, her answer was automatic. “I think you and I both know why my marriage failed, Tony.”

  She had his undivided attention now. Lowering her voice slightly, she said, “I ran into Barry and his new wife last week. She was very beautiful, and very pregnant.”

  Tony didn’t say anything, and she surged ahead. “Barry couldn’t deal with my endometriosis. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.”

  Tony’s eyebrows rose slightly at the medical term. As a doctor, he knew it well. In mild to moderate cases, it made menstruation painful and conception difficult. In severe cases it made one excruciating and the other impossible. “What has your doctor done about your condition?” he asked levelly.

  “For now, I’m on medication. Eventually, I’ll need a hysterectomy. It’s pretty much textbook, isn’t it?”

  Outwardly, Tony didn’t move, but inside, his thoughts were surging in every direction. He knew firsthand how devastating a diagnosis of endometriosis can be. He’d broken the news to a number of his patients over the years. Suddenly, he wished he could have been there for her, to hold her hand, or offer her his understanding, because he had a feeling her ex-husband hadn’t been concerned about her needs.

  Beth stared up at Tony. He’d been quiet for a long time, obviously absorbing the information. He brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingertips moving to her cheekbone as if he’d been wanting to touch her all day. She stared up at him, afraid of what he might do. Afraid of what he might not do.

  Calling on her last vestige of courage, she said, “I’m thirty-five years old. Adopting Christopher could very well be my only chance at motherhood. I don’t blame you for having doubts, but this arrangement doesn’t have to be permanent. I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement, and I’ll give you a divorce anytime you want. Of course, I won’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind completely.”

  Tony let his fingers glide through the wisps of hair in front of Beth’s ear, trail down the smooth column of her neck and brush the delicate ridge of her collarbone. He could hear her breath catch in her throat, could see the slight quiver in her proud chin. He couldn’t name all the emotions crashing through him, but he knew damn well a woman like her shouldn’t have to beg.

  Moving closer, he said, “Are you having second thoughts, Beth?”

  If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he would have smiled at her double take.

  “Do you mean…?”

  He nodded.

  “But I thought…”

  He shrugged.

  “Then, you’re not…?”

  He shook his head.

  Beth had never much cared for sounding like an idiot. But she couldn’t help it. She could hardly believe her eyes or her ears. Tony hadn’t changed his mind about marrying her. Or if he had, he’d changed it back again. He still intended to marry her. What kind of a man would do that, knowing what he knew? Just who was Tony Petrocelli?

  The shadow of a five o’clock beard gave him a rugged look, but it was the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that sent her thoughts into a tailspin all over again. His eyes darkened with amusement and a kind of fire she’d never seen before. He wanted her. He was making no effort to disguise it, or hide it, or deny it.

  He wanted her. It was that simple.

  An unwelcome tension settled over her, because there had been nothing simple about the look that had crossed his face when she’d first told him about her inability to have children. Doing everything in her power to hold on to her composure for a few more minutes, she squared her shoulders and took a backward step. Tony only followed. She took another, and so did he. Holding up her hand in a halting motion, she said, “Tony, we have to talk about this.”

  “Are you having second thoughts, Beth?” he asked again.

  His voice was too low, too husky, too Italian for her peace of mind. “No,
but…”

  “Good, because I’d hate for my mother to have to try to explain things to Father Carlos, wouldn’t you?”

  Actually, Beth would have liked to hear Elena trying to explain things to Father Carlos. When the other woman was finished, perhaps she could explain what went on in the deepest recesses of her only son’s mind.

  Holding her ground, Beth said, “I don’t want you to look back ten years from now and view this as your biggest mistake. I love Christopher, and I know I can be a good mother. I wouldn’t even consider this if I didn’t believe you’d be a good father, too. I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

  “Give me an update here, Beth. Are you trying to convince me to marry you? Or to not marry you?”

  She wouldn’t have been surprised to see a smile lurking around the edges of his mouth. The fact that there wasn’t made his questions even more pointed, and her answer more important. “I want you to do this for the right reasons.”

  He reached for her hand, easily drawing her closer. “I know what I’m doing,” he said, his lips brushing hers.

  In that moment before he kissed her, everything felt right, and oh, so true. She and Tony were going to be married. And they were going to adopt Christopher. It was as if everything she’d ever done, every heartache she’d ever experienced and endured, had led her to this point in time. It was almost as if it was all meant to be.

  * * *

  “Annie!”

  The glance over her shoulder was a reflex action, as was her slide into an alley at the first glimpse of the police car on the next block. Annie knew without looking that whoever had called out hadn’t been talking to her. How could they be? She didn’t know a soul in Grand Springs except for Todd, and he’d left town months ago. And no one knew her. And really, she had no reason to fear a police officer. She’d done nothing wrong. Unless she counted running away from home more than a year ago when she was sixteen. The memory of the way her mother’s latest boyfriend had looked at her made her skin crawl even now. Running away had been necessary, and quite possibly the first smart thing she’d ever done. But it wouldn’t be the last. She had someone else to think about now. She had her baby. Her son.

  She hadn’t intended to leave the hospital without a word shortly after Christopher’s birth, but she’d panicked. She’d had a lot of time to think since then. A lot of time to plan. She hadn’t seen Christopher in almost two weeks. She didn’t have a car, and hitchhiking was risky. She didn’t want to take any more risks than she had to. For once in her life, Annie Moore was going to do things right. That meant she had to take her time, she had to plan, and she had to prepare.

  Air brakes hissed as a semi stopped at the corner, the diesel fumes mingling with the greasy smells coming from the fast food restaurants on the corner behind her. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, but a glance at her watch told her that visiting hours were under way at the hospital. The halls would be congested with people, which meant that it would be easier for her to blend in. And it would be easier for her to see her baby without anyone noticing her presence. The last time she’d been to the hospital, the nurse on duty kept watching her, suspicion written all over her face. Annie didn’t understand it. It wasn’t as if there was a law against making sure her own baby was all right. She ached to hold him, but knew she’d have to wait a little while longer. For now, she would have to be content just to see him through the glass.

  “Oh, Christopher,” she whispered. “I’m coming.”

  Ignoring the emptiness in the pit of her stomach, she tucked her hair underneath a baseball cap and stepped out of the alley.

  * * *

  “How do I look?” Beth asked, gliding her hands over the pale blue fabric of her dress.

  “You look beautiful, and very nervous, which serves you right for allowing the groom to see you before the wedding. Have I taught you nothing about omens and bad luck?”

  The soft jingle-jangle of Jenna’s bracelets was comforting, even if her words were clipped and her black eyes were flashing imperiously. Beth tucked her lower lip between her teeth and did her best to hide her smile from her best friend. “I’m not superstitious, remember?”

  Jenna Maria Brigante swung around, the hem of her dark green skirt flouncing just above her ankles. Planting her hands on her hips, she sputtered in Romany. Beth crossed her arms and waited for Jenna to finish her tirade. Although she didn’t understand the words themselves, their meaning was universal.

  They were in a small room at the top of the stairs in Vince and Elena Petrocelli’s house, waiting for the music to begin downstairs. Chairs were set up in the living room; white bows and fresh-cut flowers had been placed on end tables and shelves in every room on the first floor. Father Carlos had arrived a few minutes ago, which meant that the wedding would begin right on time.

  Beth checked her reflection again, wondering if she should have worn her hair up, after all. No, she’d had a traditional wedding once. That time she’d done everything according to custom, wearing her mother’s lace, her grandmother’s pearls, even a penny in her shoe. This wedding would be as simple and true as the reason for its occurrence. For Christopher.

  “Here,” Jenna said, pressing a tube of lipstick into Beth’s hand. “For someone who knows exactly what you’re doing and the exact reasons why you’re doing it, you’ve chewed off an awful lot of your lipstick.”

  Leaning closer to the mirror, Beth reapplied the pink gloss. Jenna was right. She was nervous, but whether Jenna believed her or not, it had nothing to do with superstition. She’d been this way ever since Kitty Garcia had reported someone lurking around the nursery a few days ago. Beth had read articles about babies who had been stolen from hospitals, and it stood to reason that a baby who’d been abandoned would be a prime target. The thought of someone taking Christopher tore at her insides. Hospital security had been stepped up, but she wouldn’t rest easy until he was safe in her arms once and for all.

  The beginning strains of music filtered up the stairs. “That’s our cue,” Jenna said. “Are you ready?”

  Before Beth had finished nodding, Jenna tossed her long black hair over her shoulder and spun around. “All right, then. Let’s go. But watch your step. You might not believe in bad omens, but I’m superstitious enough for both of us.”

  Beth took the single pink rose Jenna handed to her and slowly followed her friend. Whether it was luck or poise, she didn’t trip on the way down the stairs or falter as she placed her hand in the crook of her future husband’s elbow. She might have held her breath at the width of Tony’s shoulders beneath his dark suit and at the expression in his eyes. She ached just a little because she no longer believed in living happily ever after, but she could hardly blame that on luck, good or bad.

  They strode to the front of the room, where Father Carlos was waiting. Side by side, she and Tony listened as the old priest began to read from his frayed book. She answered the questions with the appropriate responses, telling herself there was no reason for her heart to feel too large for her own chest. She was prepared to marry Anthony Joseph Petrocelli. She wasn’t, however, prepared to fall in love with him. Their marriage wasn’t going to last forever, anyway. Why, then, did she cross her fingers for luck moments before Father Carlos declared them husband and wife?

  Raising her face for Tony’s kiss, she realized that she might have been the tiniest bit superstitious, after all.

  * * *

  Tony ran his finger between his neck and his shirt collar, even though it wasn’t really his collar that felt too tight. His eyes were trained on the newest member of the Petrocelli family. Beth was standing on the other side of the room, cornered by three of his four sisters. Her dress was a pale shade of blue and bespoke of a woman with good manners and exquisite taste. It fit her to perfection, stopping several inches above her cream-colored shoes. All in all, her entire outfit looked elegant. Her hair was another matter, waving past her shoulders, unruly and just enough out of control to entice a man to wan
t to touch it, to harbor thoughts of taming it. He flexed his fingers at his side, wondering how much longer he had to wait before he and Beth could leave.

  The wedding had come off without a hitch, unless he counted his mother’s and grandmother’s tears, the squabble between two of his brothers-in-law, a little spilled punch and the sour notes Gina had hit on the piano while Beth was descending the stairs before the ceremony began. It was strange, but the instant Beth’s eyes had met his, everything else had receded, until there was only her, and him, and the rousing jolt that went through him as he’d waited for her to place her hand in his.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Pulling his gaze from Beth, Tony reeled in his thoughts and glanced at the raven-haired woman standing next to him, watching him with eagle eyes. Oh, boy. Jenna Maria Brigante was all he needed.

  She peered up at him, chin raised, hands on her hips, her gaze unwavering. A lot of people thought Tony was unobservant, but he wasn’t. He’d always kept to himself, that’s all—his feelings, his thoughts, especially his emotions. He was a private person, and he wasn’t comfortable with people traipsing through his thought processes, especially when the woman doing the wandering claimed she was a bona fide Gypsy.

  Holding her gaze with a firm look of his own, he said, “Are you having a good time?”

  She shrugged. “You know what they say. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

  “Do you want me to try to set you up with one of my associates at the hospital?”

  Coal black eyebrows rose slightly as she said, “I think you and I both know that wouldn’t be a very good idea.”

  The image of a black-widow spider eating her mate flashed through Tony’s mind. He didn’t know why he smiled, but in all honesty, he didn’t dislike Beth’s friend. She’d done a wonderful job as Beth’s maid of honor. A light had been dancing in her dark eyes all afternoon. Now her gaze was strangely direct.