Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  “I did want to talk to you about something, Tony. I’m just not sure this is the right place.”

  Glancing down as two of his nephews streaked by, he said, “If you were thinking about giving me my sex talk, don’t. I’m still waiting for my father to do the honors.”

  Apparently, she didn’t feel like dignifying his remark with a comment of her own. She simply stared at him, her expression so serious that Tony felt inclined to say, “This is a wedding reception, Jenna. Not a funeral.”

  Glancing away, Jenna said, “Yes, I know. Beth’s happy today. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “And you don’t believe that’s possible?” he prodded.

  “She has her heart set on adopting Christopher. I don’t know what she’d do if something went wrong.”

  Tony followed the course of her gaze to the other side of the room. Beth chose that moment to look up, a smile stealing across her lips. He wondered if she had any idea what that smile of hers was doing to him. He was well schooled in what to do and what to think about to keep his desire from becoming obvious, but today it required all his concentration to accomplish such a feat. A need had been building in him for months, and there was only one way to satisfy it.

  Without taking his eyes off Beth, he said, “If you’re trying to tell me not to hurt her, don’t bother. I intend to do my best to make her happy. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

  Jenna sputtered something he couldn’t understand, then finished her tirade in English. “There’s nothing more frightening than a nonbeliever begging for trouble.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said sardonically, “while I try not to step on any cracks in the sidewalk or break any mirrors. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s time to take my wife home.”

  * * *

  “The wedding was lovely, wasn’t it?”

  Tony’s answer was a deep, mellow hum, just as it had been the first two times he’d answered the same question. If Beth had been alone, she would have pressed both hands to her face. But then, if she’d been alone, she wouldn’t have been repeating herself in a frantic effort to hold her nerves at bay.

  This wasn’t the first time she’d taken the winding street that led to Tony’s house. It was, however, the first time she’d taken the route as Mrs. Anthony Petrocelli. Therein lay the problem.

  Although today was the sixth of September, the day was still summer warm. People everywhere were sitting on porch swings and lawn chairs, lazily passing a pleasant afternoon. In contrast, Beth’s nerves were scrambling. When she and Tony had first left his parents’ house, she’d concentrated on taking one slow, easy breath, and then another. When that had failed to calm her, she’d tried to fill the quiet with inconsequential talk of everything from the weather to a bumper sticker that read Don’t Blame Me. I Voted Republican.

  She’d turned her head at Tony’s throaty chuckle, the look deep in his eyes draining the laughter out of her chest. She knew what the look in his eyes meant. She’d been married before, after all.

  Struggling for something, anything, to say, she peered straight ahead. “Do you see that road winding up the mountain?” she asked. “That leads to Jenna’s cabin.”

  “How far up the mountain does she live?”

  Thankful to have finally hit upon a safe topic, she said, “It’s a ten-minute jaunt the way the crow flies, but like they say here in the Rockies—”

  “You can’t get there from here.” Their voices came in unison, his deep and husky, hers throaty and soft. There was something about the combination that replaced the nerves in her stomach with a warmth that seemed to have a life of its own.

  Her emotions whirled; her thoughts spun. Staring at the sharp lines of his profile, she said, “Jenna claims that every time two people speak in unison, a wish is about to come true.”

  He took his eyes from the street long enough to look directly at her. “Sometime I’d love to hear the story of how you and Jenna met.”

  “Sometime?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded.

  “But not now?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Now I’d rather concentrate on making that wish you mentioned come true.”

  She swallowed hard as Tony pulled his car to a stop in front of a Victorian-style house that had probably been built almost a hundred years ago by some prospector who’d struck it rich in a nearby mine.

  “Here we are,” he said, opening his door.

  Struggling with uncertainties, she peered at the house that was about to become her home. Suddenly, she wanted to back up, to start over at the beginning. Everything had happened so fast. She and Tony were about to stride into his house as husband and wife, and they hadn’t even discussed the most fundamental elements of their marriage. Rather than wait for him to come around to her side of the car, she got out and met him on the sidewalk that led to the side door. “Tony, I think we should talk.”

  She let out a little yelp when he swung her into his arms and shouldered his way through the door. Inside, he asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

  Beth felt weightless in his arms, and strangely shy. Eyeing the threshold behind them, she whispered, “Are you superstitious, Tony?”

  He kicked the door shut and lowered her to her feet an inch at a time. “Let’s just say that after your friend’s pep talk, I’m not taking any chances.”

  If need had a sound it was the rasp of his breath in her ear. If it had a texture, it was velvet over steel. She closed her eyes as he moved against her and covered her mouth with his, letting her know without words that there was a time for talking. And it wasn’t now.

  The nerves in Beth’s stomach turned into warmth, and then into need. Opening her mouth, she returned his kiss, answering with a need of her own.

  His hands were everywhere, molding her closer, gliding up her back, his palms skimming over the smooth material of her dress. She didn’t remember sliding her hands around his back, but she’d never forget the contour of muscle beneath her fingertips. His touch was gentle and sure, his fingers slipping into her hair, only to glide down the sides of her neck, kneading her shoulders until she felt like a willow switch, slender and pliant and strong.

  She’d been in this house yesterday when she’d moved some of her things, but today, she had only a hazy impression of her surroundings. She stepped out of her shoes in the hall, her stocking feet practically floating over the hardwood floor. Little by little, she and Tony made their way to an open staircase that reached invitingly toward the second story.

  Their kiss continued as they mounted the first step. She might have been able to catch her breath somewhere near the fourth stair, but he lowered her zipper so slowly, so smoothly, that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to catch her breath again.

  This was a new experience for her, this spontaneity that was melting her from the inside. Barry had been arduous and thorough, and in the early years of their marriage, at least, he’d been loving. But Tony’s passion was explosive. It obliterated all thought, allowing instinct to guide her. And her instincts were turning her into a creature she barely recognized, one who was wanton and sensuous and sure of what she wanted.

  She slid his tie from his collar and deftly tossed it over her shoulder. It landed on the railing with a quiet swish. She felt him swallow as she unfastened the top button of his shirt. Feeling bold and ever so brazen, she reached up on tiptoe and kissed the strong column of his neck, slowly moving to his chin, and finally his mouth, where she captured his groan, deftly unfastening buttons all the while.

  His jacket and shirt came off together, inside out, landing on the top step. Her dress came next, falling to the floor in a pool of blue.

  He kissed her chin, her neck. His lips nuzzling the straps of her slip aside, his fingers slowly pushing them from her shoulders. She was vaguely aware of the carpet at her feet, of walls painted a cool white, the color blending into nothingness as her eyes drifted closed. His hands brushed the outer swells of her breasts,
her head tipping back when he cupped them, one in each hand, through the satiny material of her slip and bra. Hazy images floated through her mind, playing across her senses, glimmering with the shards of daylight filtering through her eyelids.

  The ring of a telephone must have come from far away, because there were no telephones in the place Tony was taking her. He seemed as reluctant to be distracted as she was, turning his head away from the sound.

  “Do you think you should answer that?” she whispered.

  He pulled her hard against him, letting her know without words exactly what he wanted to do. “I couldn’t get an entire week off for a proper honeymoon, Beth,” he said while the telephone rang on. “But I’m not on duty tonight. Tonight is all we have. So no, I definitely do not want to answer that.”

  His lips were wet from her kisses, his hair disheveled from her hands, his breathing as ragged as hers was shallow. In the background the answering machine clicked on. Ten feet away, he lowered his face to hers for another kiss.

  “This is Florence Donahue at Social Services. I’m sorry to bother you, but this is urgent. I must speak to one of you immediately. Please return my call as soon as possible.”

  Their eyes opened, their gazes locked, silence growing tight with tension. “Christopher,” Beth said, breaking out of his embrace. “Oh, my God! What if something’s happened to Christopher?”

  Tony knew he should do something, but his mind was still foggy with desire. Slowly coming to his senses, he said, “We have to call Mrs. Donahue right away.”

  Beth was already dialing the phone.

  Chapter Five

  “All right, Mrs. Donahue…yes. Yes, of course.”

  Tony could practically see the tension drain out of Beth’s shoulders as she spoke into the telephone. There was excitement in her voice. It wasn’t exactly the kind of excitement she’d turned loose in his arms moments ago, but it was excitement just the same.

  Powerful relief washed over him. Christopher was obviously okay. When Beth replaced the phone and turned around, grinning, his relief gave way to desire all over again. He hadn’t appreciated the interruption, but he was thoroughly enjoying the anticipation of picking up where they’d left off.

  “That was Mrs. Donahue.”

  “Yes,” he answered, taking one slow, easy step toward her, “I figured.”

  She had the grace to shake her head at his drollery, the movement drawing his attention to the hair waving around her face and shoulders in total disarray.

  “It wasn’t bad news, after all.”

  He nodded and took another step closer. “I figured that, too. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very expressive face?”

  The startled look of surprise that crossed her features had his pulses pounding in a rhythm as erratic as a mountain storm. But it wasn’t thunder rumbling in the very center of him. It was instinct, and it was telling him to take her to bed. As soon as possible.

  He’d based his decision to marry her on instinct, and he knew better than anyone that it seldom let him down. After all, his instincts had saved patients’ lives on more than one occasion. The hospital board was pleased with his decision to marry, his mother and father were happy with his choice, and although he was still in a state of shock over Beth’s inability to have children, he couldn’t deny the fact that there was something different about the desire he felt for her. She was his wife in Father Carlos’s eyes, and in the eyes of the State of Colorado. If he didn’t make her his wife in the conjugal sense real, real soon, he would surely explode.

  “Mrs. Donahue said that Christopher is being released from the hospital earlier than planned.”

  He spent an inordinate amount of time staring at her lips. So much time, in fact, that he was having a difficult time comprehending what she was saying.

  “Tony? Did you hear me?”

  He nodded, his gaze gliding down the smooth column of her throat, straying to the bodice of her slip where her taut nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric.

  She darted past him so suddenly his pant leg stirred in her wake. By the time he turned around, she was bending down, scooping up her dress.

  “Beth, what are you doing?”

  “I’m getting dressed.”

  She glanced at him, her eyebrows arching slightly, a blush climbing to her cheeks. Tony didn’t have to glance down to know what had caused it.

  Averting her gaze, she said, “You’d better get dressed, too, don’t you think?”

  He looked at her, disoriented. “What do you mean?”

  “The hospital is ready to release Christopher.”

  “Now?”

  She lowered her voice as if to counter the raised volume of his. “Yes. That’s why Mrs. Donahue called. Someone was seen lurking around the nursery again. So, for security reasons, not to mention insurance purposes, they decided to release Christopher as soon as he reached five pounds.”

  Realization dawned. He didn’t understand why someone had started lurking around the nursery, but he was familiar with hospital policy and insurance practices. Christopher had been in the hospital for nearly three months. Any costs not absorbed by Vanderbilt Memorial would be picked up by the State of Colorado. These days, patients weren’t allowed to remain in hospitals any longer than was absolutely necessary. It was hospital policy to send premature babies home when they hit the five-pound mark, providing they were healthy, of course. And Christopher had hit the mark today of all days.

  “Just think,” Beth said, slipping into her dress. “He’s coming home the day before his three-month birthday. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

  Staring at the wisp of her slip that was steadily disappearing as she raised her dress’s zipper, Tony thought it was a coincidence, all right. A coincidence of catastrophic proportions.

  She started down the stairs. With one hand on the banister, she turned to look at him. “Are you coming?”

  Tony practically snorted. Apparently not. Grimacing, he refastened his belt. “I’ll be right there.”

  He strode to his bedroom for a clean shirt, thinking that someday he’d probably see the irony in the situation. Hell, someday he might even see the humor. But right now he found nothing funny about it. In fact, if he had to choose between laughing and crying, crying would win by a mile.

  * * *

  Crying. The entire house had been echoing with it for hours. It was 2:00 a.m., and although Tony had heard of new parents crying from sheer exhaustion and desperation, he wasn’t the one raising the roof tonight. Christopher was responsible for that. The baby had been extremely even-tempered throughout the entire ordeal of being released from the hospital. Mrs. Donahue had been there, papers had been signed, and everybody who’d gotten attached to the little tyke during his stay in the nursery had held him and kissed him and told him goodbye. Cameras had flashed, hands had waved. Chris had started fussing about an hour after they’d brought him home, and he hadn’t let up for more than five minutes at a time since.

  Beth had remained surprisingly calm. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d decided to try to rock him to sleep in the room they’d quickly converted into a nursery. Evidently, it hadn’t worked, because Tony could still hear the baby’s cries. Glancing up, he saw Beth coming down the stairs, the squalling infant in her arms. Christopher’s red face was in stark contrast to her pale pink robe; the worry and fatigue in her eyes was very different from the sensuality he’d seen in their place hours ago.

  “I don’t understand it,” she said, moving the baby to her shoulder. “He was never this fretful in the hospital.”

  Tony tried to recall some of the advice he’d given expectant parents over the years. Shrugging, he said, “I’m sure he isn’t the only baby who’s cried his first night home.”

  “You’re probably right, but I envisioned his first night with us a lot differently.”

  Tony had to agree with Beth on that one. He’d envisioned tonight a lot differently, too. He only hoped his expression looked less pained than he
felt.

  It took a moment for him to realize that Christopher had begun to quiet down. He and Beth took a collective deep breath and shared a hopeful look. The baby seemed to have relaxed, his eyes closing as if he was exhausted. Tony didn’t move, not even to breathe. It was only a little after two. Maybe the night could be salvaged, after all.

  The baby started to squirm. Within seconds, he was crying his little eyes out all over again. Tony nearly dropped his head into his hands. “Maybe he’s hungry,” he said helplessly.

  “I tried feeding him a little while ago. Maybe he has a bubble.” She patted his tiny back, to no avail.

  Tony ran a hand through his hair, then glanced at his watch. He had to be at the hospital in less than five hours. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d functioned on very little sleep. Hell, he hadn’t planned to get any sleep at all tonight, but for an entirely different reason.

  Beth’s voice rose over the noise the baby was making, somehow managing to sound contrite despite its volume. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Tony.”

  Studying her intently, he shifted his weight to one foot and calmly said, “I need an update here. Exactly what part of this is your fault?”

  She swayed to and fro, the motion having little effect on Christopher. “I guess none of it, but I’m still sorry. Since you have to be up early for work and since I’m taking the equivalent of a maternity leave, I have the day off. Why don’t you go on up to bed?”

  Tony had been waiting to go to bed all day. He just hadn’t planned to go alone. Eyeing the squalling baby, he faced the fact that consummating his marriage was going to have to wait. “Maybe I will try to get a little sleep. If you’re sure you’re up to handling him on your own.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Reluctantly, he headed for the stairs.

  “Tony?”

  He was halfway to the stairway when he turned around. She made quite a picture standing in the doorway, the hem of her satin robe skimming her ankles, her dark auburn hair catching the rich hues of soft lamplight, her eyes steady and serene despite the fretful baby in her arms.