Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  “What time are you due at the hospital?”

  Tony took a calming breath, then said, “Rounds usually start at seven, but since it’s Sunday, I’m due whenever I get there. I don’t have office hours, but after rounds I have some paperwork to catch up on. I should be home shortly after one.”

  Now that he thought about it, it would probably be better for both of them if he spent the morning at the hospital. He could clear up his schedule for the rest of the day, and Beth could get a little much-needed sleep. He didn’t want their first time to be hurried, anyway. This would give him time to make it right. He practically snorted. Right, hell. He intended to make it better than that. If he had his way, it would be darned close to perfect.

  They talked for a few more minutes, then Tony went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for work. He came down twenty minutes later, whistling. Christopher was sleeping in Beth’s arms when he kissed her goodbye.

  Reading the question in her eyes, he said, “That was from Gib.”

  Without warning, he slanted his mouth over hers again, this time much more thoroughly, much more sensuously. “That,” he whispered, “was from me.”

  Beth smiled dazedly. Watching him leave, she thought about all the things she had to think about, all the decisions she had to make, and all the things she had to do. Tony would be back shortly after one. That didn’t leave her much time.

  Chapter Six

  Tony pulled his Lexus into his driveway and cut the engine in front of the garage. With a slow smile of anticipation, he took a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of fine wine in the other, and headed for his own back door.

  The entire hospital staff had been in typical form today, dishing out tongue-in-cheek comments and basically ribbing him mercilessly. With a knowing sort of smile, Noah Howell had insisted that Tony had a jaunty walk. One of the nurses claimed it was buoyant. Even Abigail Horton, the most difficult nurse in the entire hospital and quite possibly the most difficult woman on the planet, had commented on the grin that kept finding its way to his mouth. He hadn’t had it in him to mind.

  He’d told Beth he’d be back shortly after one. He’d finished early, and he knew why. He was anxious to get home. Anxious, hell, he was as excited as a kid at Christmas. Only he wasn’t a kid. He was a grown man. And he’d never been more excited about anything in his entire life.

  Classical music was playing from a radio in the kitchen. Tony didn’t know whether it was Beethoven or Bach, but he knew Beth must have been busy, because the box Gib had tripped over earlier was sitting along the far wall, empty.

  Her touches were everywhere, in whatever was baking in the oven, in the salt-and-pepper shakers on the stove, the yellow towel hanging from the bar near the sink, the rugs on the floor. Tony wondered if every newly married man felt this sudden burst of anticipation and appreciation for the feminine changes in his life. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason for the enthusiasm racing through him right now, not by a long shot.

  He listened for some indication as to Beth’s whereabouts, half expecting to hear a baby’s cry. Instead, he heard the clink of silver and the clatter of dishes. He found her in the dining room, setting the table. She didn’t look up, which allowed him the opportunity to watch her, unseen.

  She’d fastened her hair on top of her head, the style calling attention to her cheekbones and her long, slender neck. She was wearing a satin cream-colored top with gold buttons and trim. Her capris fit her perfectly. The woman certainly had class, but she probably knew that. He wondered if she also knew how sensuous the outfit made her look, the V-neckline dipping just low enough to be interesting, the material just soft enough to follow the contours of her body the way he wanted to.

  She chose that moment to glance his way. For an instant, she seemed flustered, but the look faded, only to be replaced by a warm smile. “You’re early.”

  “I know.”

  His movement toward her was automatic, the shift of his weight to one foot while he handed her the flowers very debonair, his reach for her instinctive. He’d never know how she managed to take the flowers and spin away so quickly that his hand came away with nothing but thin air. His mind obviously hadn’t caught up with his body. But that was all right. He was thoroughly enjoying what was happening there.

  “I’ll just put these in water,” she called on her way out of the room.

  She looked over her shoulder when he followed her into the kitchen, a friendly smile on her face. “What kind of wine did you bring?”

  “Chardonnay.”

  “It’s one of my favorites.”

  Tony knew he had no business feeling so jubilant simply because he’d guessed correctly about the wine, but jubilant was exactly how he felt.

  “How was your morning?” she asked, placing the flowers in a crystal vase.

  “Fine. How was yours?” Tony answered, grinning inanely. It was strange, but he remembered his parents having this kind of conversation almost every night when he was a kid.

  “Oh,” she said, peeking into the oven. “It was wonderful. Christopher and I went to the store. He was an angel. I think last night was a fluke.”

  Tony hoped so, although it was highly possible that they weren’t talking about the same thing. “Where’s Chris now?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Has he been sleeping long?”

  “I just laid him down.”

  Good, Tony thought to himself. Everything was working out perfectly. He strode a little closer, lowering his voice at the same time. “Is that lasagna I smell?”

  “I hope you like it.”

  He was aware of the invisible pattern she drew on the counter, but he was more interested in the scent of her shampoo and the swish of satin against her skin. “You’ve obviously been extremely busy. Did you get any rest at all?”

  “No, but I feel amazingly energetic. Honestly, I think I’m running on pure adrenaline.”

  Boy, oh boy, oh boy, did Tony know the feeling. Heart hammering, he brought his hand up with the intention of brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. When she spun away this time, a furrow creased his forehead.

  “I’m afraid the lasagna isn’t quite ready. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” She peeked into the oven again, making him wonder if she was running on nervous energy, and not pure adrenaline.

  “Why don’t you turn the oven down,” he said quietly. And then, with a lingering huskiness, he added, “Way down.”

  Her head jerked around, her gaze meeting his, only to slide away almost immediately. “All right,” she said quietly. “I suppose dinner can wait.”

  She wet her lips, the flick of her pink tongue stoking the gently growing fire within him. “There’s no need to be nervous, Beth,” he said, his voice sounding low and husky in his own ears. “We’re married, remember?”

  Her gaze shot to his. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  It took a moment for her words to filter past the blood pounding through his ears. Talking was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “Beth, is something wrong?”

  She spun around again, turning to face him only after she’d placed herself on the other side of the narrow table across the room. “No, no, nothing’s wrong. Of course nothing’s wrong. It’s just that everything’s happened so fast. I mean, two weeks ago we didn’t even know each other, and here we are, married.”

  Tony felt his eyes narrow as he said, “I thought that was what you wanted.”

  “It is. I mean, I’m thrilled. It’s just that things got a little out of control last night. And I don’t want it to happen again.”

  An ominous sense of foreboding crawled down Tony’s spine. “What are you saying?”

  Her lips parted as if she couldn’t breathe. She clamped her mouth shut, visibly trying to pull herself together. “Look,” she said, finally finding her voice. “I know I’m not saying this properly. I’m afraid my sister got all the poise in the family. Maybe the fact that Christopher’s fu
ssiness kept us from…sleeping together…was meant to be. I know it forced me to take a long, hard look at what we’re doing.”

  Beth chanced a glance at Tony and very nearly cringed. He was making that low, growling sound men everywhere made when their tempers were about to go through the ceiling. Barry had done it every time she’d failed a pregnancy test.

  “What we’re doing,” Tony said, his temper barely controlled, “is making a life together. I thought that’s why we got married.”

  Thoughts of Barry reinforced her resolve and gave her the courage to continue. Holding her head high, her gaze direct, she said, “I was under the impression that you married me to satisfy the board of directors, not to mention to carry on the Petrocelli name.”

  Tony tried not to swear a blue streak, but it wasn’t easy. His blood was doing a slow boil, and so was his temper. He should have known how to handle himself when squaring off opposite a presupposing, potentially perturbing, impossible female. He’d grown up with four of them. But dammit, he had no words to convey his frustration. And he sure as hell didn’t know what to say to change Beth’s mind.

  “Let me get this straight,” he finally rasped. “You’re telling me you don’t want to go to bed with me.”

  She cringed, but Tony simply couldn’t muster up much remorse. He was having his own problems, and Beth headed the list.

  Biting her lip, she said, “It sounds harsh when you put it that way.”

  “How would you put it?”

  She took a deep breath, probably to gather her wits. After a moment of tense silence, she said, “I know I have no right to expect you to be celibate. And I don’t.”

  Sirens went off inside Tony’s head. “You don’t.”

  “No. I mean, I’ve heard the rumors about your sexual prowess, and I can’t expect you to remain faithful to an arranged marriage. Although I’d appreciate it if you’d be discreet.”

  “You’re giving me your permission to take a mistress?”

  At her nod, his voice dipped ominously, menacingly low. “As long as I’m discreet?”

  When she nodded again, Tony let loose the first of the long string of expletives running through his head. Now that he’d singed the hairs in both their ears, he did the only thing a man in his predicament could do. He cast her a withering scowl, turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled.

  He’d gone four blocks before he calmed down enough to recognize his first rational thought. How was it that he’d gone from buying flowers and wine to storming out of his own house in a matter of minutes? He didn’t know, but smack dab in the middle of it all was Beth.

  A dog stood up in the front yard of one of the houses he passed. The sign on the doghouse read Bowser. Fur and hackles raised, Bowser looked ready and willing to take a good-size bite out of Tony’s hide. Tony glared at him and kept on walking. Other than a low growl followed up with a mean bark, the animal stayed exactly where he was. Smart dog, Tony thought to himself. Old Bowser obviously recognized a hopeless situation when he saw one. Tony couldn’t help wondering if the dog was smarter than he was.

  Was the situation with Beth hopeless?

  He lengthened his stride and increased his pace. It was going to take a lot more walking to figure that one out. Glancing at the mountains in the distance, he wondered if he could make it to Crystal Pass by sunset. Maybe by then he’d have his new wife figured out. But then again, maybe not.

  * * *

  The house was strangely quiet when Tony arrived home. The radio had been turned off, but the oven was still on low. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to Beth, but he figured that since she’d gone to the trouble to make lasagna, he might as well eat it. Taking a fork and plate in one hand and the pan in the other, he sat down at the small table in the kitchen.

  The lasagna had probably been delicious three hours ago. Now it was overbaked and bone dry. Since it was his own fault, he ate it, anyway. He’d eaten worse. Hell, he was pretty sure he was about to eat crow.

  He’d walked for a long time, but he hadn’t quite made it all the way to Crystal Pass. He’d tried to understand exactly what was behind the things Beth had said. A person would think that growing up with four sisters ought to give a man a little insight into those seemingly bottomless vagaries that made up a woman’s mind. Tony didn’t have a clue. He had come to one conclusion, though, and that was that Abigail Horton, the orneriest nurse at the hospital, could take lessons from Beth in ways to exasperate an ordinary man. Still, he wished he hadn’t raised his voice and stormed off without a word of explanation.

  He finished his meal in silence, then placed his dishes in the dishwasher. He didn’t know what to do with the leftover lasagna. His first choice would have been to throw it out, but since he didn’t want to hurt Beth’s feelings, he left it on the counter.

  Footsteps sounded behind him. Tony turned around as Beth walked into the room, Christopher in her arms. The look in her eyes reminded him of a stray cat, hungry, battle weary, yet leery of a helping hand. It made him feel like a heel.

  Nodding toward the baby, he said, “Is he hungry again?”

  She inclined her head, hurrying to the refrigerator for the prepackaged, prepared bottles of formula the hospital sent home with them. “He wants to eat every two hours.”

  “He has a lot of catching up to do.”

  She nodded again, then went about warming Christopher’s bottle. Wishing he knew where to begin, Tony said, “I’m sorry I stormed out on you, Beth. What have you been doing while I was gone?”

  She switched the baby to her shoulder and tested the formula on her wrist so slowly Tony assumed she was testing her answer, as well. When she finally spoke, it was in a voice carefully schooled in neutral tones. “I did a lot of thinking, and I put some of my things away in the spare room.”

  “The spare room?” Tony clamped his mouth shut because he knew he shouldn’t have asked, but hadn’t been able to stop himself.

  Keeping her eyes on the baby, she said, “That bothers you.”

  Bother? He’d passed bothered hours ago. Actually, he’d gone all the way to full-scale frustration. “Why would that bother me?”

  Beth didn’t know what to say. She heard the heavy note of sarcasm in Tony’s voice but saw no point in bringing it to his attention. She began to feed Christopher, who calmed down the instant she placed the bottle to his lips. Lord, she was tired. She felt the lack of sleep in every muscle. The strain between her and Tony was even worse.

  She glanced at him and found him watching Christopher, his expression changing with his changing thoughts. She hadn’t appreciated his earlier anger, but she liked the wariness and frustration in his eyes right now a lot less.

  What had she done?

  She’d asked herself that question a hundred times. What if Tony had changed his mind about the marriage? She’d been married to an attorney for seven years. Among other things, she’d gained enough understanding of the law to know that a marriage could be annulled if it was never consummated. Why hadn’t she just gone to bed with Tony? So what if she ended up falling in love. She’d been terrified to let that happen, thinking she couldn’t live through another broken heart. But could she live through losing Christopher? The very idea sent ice-cold panic all the way through her.

  Shoring up her courage, she said, “I’ll move my clothes to the closet in your room if that’s what you want.”

  Tony’s head came up with a start. After a long moment of silence, he shook his head. “No, Beth.”

  Although his eyes were little more than two slits in his face, there had been no anger in his voice. Beth didn’t know what to say, but she found herself wishing for his anger. At least she’d know how to deal with that. The air of calm surrounding him felt more like impending doom with every passing second.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she began. “And I realize I overreacted.”

  “Maybe. But my answer is still no.”

  His simple wor
ds brought her up short, made her stammer. “But, I mean, I thought you wanted…”

  He held up a hand, and her voice trailed away.

  “I don’t want charity, Beth, and I sure as hell don’t want a virgin sacrifice. No, we’ll do this your way. Or no way.”

  Beth’s mind floundered, her thoughts scrambling. “My way?” she whispered.

  He placed his hands on his hips and quietly said, “We’ll get to know each other before we consummate the marriage.”

  “We will?”

  “Believe me. We will.”

  Beth doubted that they were talking about the same thing, but Tony looked very sure of himself. Wasn’t it just like a man to have a one-track mind? She was too relieved to care. He wasn’t going to annul the marriage. Suddenly, she felt weak in the knees.

  From the doorway, he said, “By the way, I ran into Martin Smith while I was walking. I asked him to help me move the rest of your things over here tomorrow night.”

  “Martin Smith? Isn’t he the amnesia patient who wandered into the hospital the night Christopher was born?”

  Tony nodded, and Beth thought about the man who’d stopped to talk to her a few times since his accident. Martin Smith—that was the name the nurses had given him—was six foot three, at least, and had blond hair and intense blue eyes. He had no idea where he came from, and no idea where he was going. Beth couldn’t imagine losing her memory as he had. It reminded her that everyone had problems, many of them far worse than hers.

  Tony began to speak, his voice drawing her from her thoughts. “Martin’s having a tough time coming to terms with his amnesia. He’s been making his living doing odd jobs—painting houses and mowing lawns. Although he’s a hard man to read, there’s something about him I trust. I’m pretty sure he’ll keep the fact that you’re sleeping in the guest room to himself.”

  For the first time, Beth thought about what it would do to Tony’s ego if that piece of information was made common knowledge. “All right,” she said. “I’ll take Christopher over to my apartment tomorrow and get all my belongings boxed up.”