Marriage by Contract

by Sandra Steffen

  He strode to the table and reached for the baby, infant seat and all.

  “Do you want me to get you a towel?” she asked.

  He paused near the doorway, the baby seat held a few inches away from his body. “It’s only water. Don’t worry, I won’t get Chris wet.”

  Laying a hand on his arm, she said, “I think Christopher is in very capable hands, soaking wet or not.”

  Tony felt at once humble and ten feet tall. He wasn’t entirely sure why. He only knew that he’d just been paid an incredibly high compliment. He watched the course Beth’s gaze took as it rested upon Christopher and slowly climbed to his face.

  “He’ll probably sleep for another hour or so,” she said quietly. “That should give us enough time, don’t you think?”

  Outwardly, Tony didn’t move, but inside his heart lurched and desire uncurled like the smoke of a raging forest fire. “Oh,” he said, his voice a low vibration in his own ears, “I think the next hour is going to go by awfully fast.”

  She smiled softly and slid open the screen door. Ever careful of the baby in his arms, Tony turned to follow.

  * * *

  A shadow flickered across the dry grass in the meadow. It stopped suddenly, blending with the larger shadows thrown by the trunk of a dying birch tree not far from where the owl had been roosting. If Tony’s senses hadn’t been so filled with the scent of Beth’s perfume and the promise in her smile, he might have glanced over his shoulder. If he had, he might have been able to make out the brim of a baseball cap, and the tumble of dark, wavy hair.

  Chapter Seven

  Beth stepped to the side as soon as she walked through the door, allowing Tony enough room to follow. He slipped out of his soggy shoes, then shouldered his way past the lamp and bookcase he and Martin had moved from her place. Standing barefoot and dripping wet, he looked at her, the need in his brown eyes warming her despite the cool evening breeze.

  Christopher made a mewling sound in his sleep, drawing both their gazes. As if the sight and sound of the baby reminded them that he wouldn’t sleep forever, they both strode farther into the room. Moving around a box containing some of her things, Beth bent down to turn on a low lamp; Tony leaned over a sturdy table, ready to place the baby seat in the center.

  “Wait,” Beth said quietly. “Let’s take him upstairs to his room.”

  “You don’t think we’ll hear him if he wakes?” Tony asked.

  “Are you kidding? The next time I talk to Jenna, I’m going to ask her if she can hear him all the way from her cabin in the mountains. I’d just feel better knowing he’s upstairs with us.”

  Cradling the infant seat in his arms, Tony said, “All right, lead the way.”

  Beth felt his eyes on her and doubted that it was an accident that he stayed three steps behind her all the way up the stairs. She wasn’t accustomed to leading, or setting the pace, or making the first move. The fact that Tony didn’t seem to think twice about allowing her to do all those things cast a spell over her, making her feel winsome and beautiful and strong.

  She switched on the night-light in Christopher’s room, then watched from the doorway as Tony placed the baby, infant seat and all, in the center of his maple crib. Brightly colored animals danced from the end of the strings of the mobile. When Tony turned around to face her, her nerve endings danced in a similar fashion.

  She felt heat spread to her throat and a fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Tony pulled his shirttails free on his first step toward her, unfastening the top button on the second. By the time all the buttons were undone, he was standing directly in front of her, and the butterflies in her stomach had been replaced by the most amazing sensation.

  Before her stood a man who obviously had but one thing on his mind. She’d always thought of him as aggressively male, and yet he’d waited for a sign from her. The enormity of what he’d done for her filled her with a quiet urgency she’d never known before. She and Tony had become husband and wife in name two days ago. Tonight, she wanted them to become husband and wife in every way.

  Tony followed Beth to the next doorway down the hall. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, and had imagined it dozens of times. In his fantasies, he’d been as strong and passionate as the rumors about him. Every time he’d thought about this since that night three months ago, he’d taken his time and had made it last a long, long time. The desire kicking through him right now wasn’t going to be easy to slow down.

  He strode to the head of the bed and turned the lamp to its lowest setting. Peeling the shirt off his back, he turned around, the soggy garment landing on a chair at the same time he drew in a quick breath at the sight of Beth standing less than two feet away. He hadn’t heard her come closer, but he swore he’d never seen more open longing in another woman’s eyes. He wanted to allow her to set the pace, but if she didn’t touch him soon, he was going to explode.

  He smoothed a strand of her hair away from her face, taking the touch he needed. She went perfectly still for a moment, then swayed the tiniest bit toward him. It was all the invitation he needed. His arms shot around her, clasping her to him, molding her to the hard planes of his body. Still, she wasn’t close enough.

  He felt along the back of her blouse for buttons, and then in the front. It wasn’t until she’d worked the button at her shoulder and then those down the side of her blouse free that he understood the reason behind the indulgent, knowing smile on her face. He almost told her that that was the damnedest place for buttons he’d ever seen, but she dropped her arms, the yellow fabric slid from her body, and he forgot everything except the need pulsing through him.

  Her bra was beige lace and was probably very beautiful, but he was more taken with the ease with which the front clasp gave way. He sucked in a quick breath at his first sight of her breasts. And then conscious thinking ceased. He pulled her to him in one motion, breast to chest, skin to skin, man to woman. Still, they weren’t close enough.

  Beth felt Tony’s hands move along her back. They encircled her waist, searching for the side closure on her slacks. She’d half expected the first time they made love to be awkward. After all, they didn’t know each other, weren’t familiar with all the little secrets their bodies held. But there was nothing awkward in the sensations quaking through her right now. And there was certainly nothing awkward in the strong hands effortlessly doing away with her clothes.

  Her palms smoothed over his jeans, the fabric wet and cold. She heard the clink of a belt buckle and the rasp of a zipper. Her eyes fluttered closed, her hands brashly gliding over flesh that was amazingly warm.

  She’d never be sure how they ended up in bed. One minute she was standing, the next minute her back was being pressed into a soft quilt, and her legs were tangling with his. He kissed her mouth, her breasts, her stomach, the curve of her hip and the length of her smooth thigh, in that order, and in every other order, until she lost track of exactly where his mouth ended and her skin began. She writhed, and moved, and returned his kisses, caress for caress, pleasure for pleasure.

  His skin dried in the late summer air, but his hair remained damp and cool beneath her fingers. He smelled of pine and man and something infinitely elusive. His touch was strong and sure one moment; gentle and inquisitive the next; arousing, always.

  In the early years of marriage to Barry, sex had been a pleasurable, mutually satisfying act. But in the last few years when she’d been trying so desperately to conceive, she’d always been aware of exactly what they were hoping to accomplish. And she’d failed him every time.

  Tony barely gave her a moment to think, let alone worry about failure. He brought her to the brink of completion, sending hot, heavy desire rolling through her. In her desire-laden state, she was vaguely aware of the scrape of a drawer, and a sudden coldness on her body where he had been. She went up on one elbow as he had done.

  Moving close to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself into his back. What she did after that brought
a moan from a place so deep in his throat she felt its vibration in the kiss she placed between his shoulder blades. As if he couldn’t stand another moment of her ministrations, he turned in her arms, pressing her into the mattress and parting her legs all in one motion. She gasped, her hips finding that age-old rhythm.

  His face was hard and beautiful and intense in the dim light. His mouth covered hers, then broke away at the last second, but it didn’t matter, because he joined her on another level, in another place, in a world where only lovers could go.

  Sometime later, they caught their breath, floating back to reality just as Christopher’s first cry carried to their ears. Tony rolled to his side and smoothed his hand along her thigh. “That baby has perfect timing.”

  Beth heard the smile in his deep voice. Feeling sated and sure of herself, she smiled back. “That isn’t what you said on our wedding night.”

  She sucked in a breath as his hand inched up her ribs, his fingers spreading wide over her breast, then slowly closing, kneading, caressing. There was smug satisfaction in his voice as he rasped, “Believe me, you were worth the wait.”

  The mattress moved beneath his weight, bouncing slightly when he stood. “Where are you going?” she asked, her eyes following the play of muscles stretching and bunching with every step he took.

  “I thought I’d go get Chris,” he said, pulling on a pair of sweats. “I want to thank him for sleeping so soundly this past hour.”

  Beth watched him go, thinking he didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body. She pushed the tangled hair out of her eyes, then sat up, gingerly smoothing her hand across the bedspread. Her fingers bumped against a small object. She scooped the sealed foil package into her hand, turning it over in her palm, her thoughts turning over at the same time.

  His reach for a condom had probably been automatic. At the time, she’d been too lost in sensation to question it. Now she wondered what thoughts had gone through his mind in that moment when he’d realized that protection wasn’t necessary. Pregnancy was impossible.

  She could hear Tony’s voice as he tried to talk Christopher out of crying. Slipping off the bed, she hurried into the next room, where she quickly donned a robe.

  The sight of Tony bent over Christopher, who was working his way to a red-faced wail, sent her hopes soaring and doubts to the back of her mind. So what if he’d thought of protection. So what if he’d realized he couldn’t make her pregnant. As a lover he’d been incredible. Reminding herself that she’d always spent too much time on self-doubts, she strode to her husband’s side and reached for the baby who was fast becoming their son.

  * * *

  “Would you say everything has been going okay since you brought Christopher home?” Florence Donahue asked, scribbling something on a yellow legal pad.

  Beth began rattling on about how well Christopher was doing, how much he was eating at each feeding, and how sweet his disposition was. Now that Tony thought about it, that probably was what the social worker had meant, although the answer that had popped into his head was slightly different. As far as he was concerned, everything was a helluva lot better than okay. He and Beth had moved all her things into his room last night. They’d made love after they’d gotten Christopher fed and changed and back to sleep, and again this morning before the alarm had gone off. Yes, everything was definitely going very well, indeed.

  “All the paperwork seems to be in order,” Florence Donahue said, placing several forms in a ragged leather case.

  Beth unclasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. This was by no means the first time she’d met with the adoption worker. In fact, she knew more about the Colorado social service system than she’d ever dreamed she’d know. Terms such as voluntary and involuntary abandonment, the termination of parental rights and supplemental petitions had become nearly as common to her as IV tubes and bandages.

  “I’m aware that someone was seen lurking around the hospital nursery and that there is much speculation as to this person’s identity,” Mrs. Donahue said. “I’m a bit surprised and enormously relieved that the press hasn’t chomped down on this story and exploited it for everything it’s worth. In recent years, adoption cases have been big news. In those instances, tragic mistakes were made. I want you both to know that I’m going by the book on this one. I’ve filed the proper petition, amended it at the proper time. It’s been more than ninety days since the birth mother abandoned Christopher. We’ll publish on her this week. If she still hasn’t come forward by the end of September, there’s nothing she can do in a court of law, nothing she can say, no way she can regain the parental rights she forfeited when she turned her back on her child.”

  “You make Annie sound callous.”

  Tony glanced at Beth. Although she’d spoken the words quietly, there was no disguising the strength behind them.

  Florence Donahue looked at her over the top of her reading glasses, then slowly removed them from their precarious perch on the end of her nose. “That wasn’t my intention.”

  “Of course it wasn’t,” Beth answered, as if she truly understood how being placed in the position of having to decide the fate of children, some of whom were beaten and abused by the very people they loved, could taint a person’s view of the world. “Because Annie isn’t bad, Florence. She’s a girl who was all alone, a girl who gave birth to a baby she was too young to have, a girl who was scared to death of having her baby two-and-a-half months early in the middle of a power failure.”

  Mrs. Donahue’s pinched expression slowly gave way to a stiff pull at her lips that very well could have been her first smile of the day. Turning shrewd eyes to Tony, she said, “I believe I’ve been duly chastised. It’s obvious that your wife has an incredible capacity to love and to forgive. How about you, Tony? How do you feel about Christopher Moore?”

  “He’s a fighter. But his name is going to be Christopher Petrocelli.”

  The speed with which Tony corrected the social worker raised Mrs. Donahue’s penciled-on eyebrows and gave Beth pause. As if realizing how defensive he sounded, he lowered his voice before continuing. “He’ll be christened Christopher Vincent Petrocelli.”

  Slowly turning a pencil over from lead to eraser and back again, Mrs. Donahue said, “I understand you come from a large Italian family.”

  Tony shrugged. “Two parents, one grandmother, four sisters, eleven nieces and nephews and a partridge in a pear tree.”

  “Eleven nieces and nephews. Family gatherings must be very noisy and terribly messy.”

  Tony crossed his arms on the table and cast Mrs. Donahue the kind of grin that so many of his patients fell in love with, his shrug undoubtedly as natural as his masculine smugness. “That’s what Petrocelli kids do. Make noise and messes.”

  “All children make noises and messes, Dr. Petrocelli.”

  The slight change in inflection in Florence’s voice didn’t escape either of them. Tony narrowed his eyes and said, “Of course they do.”

  Beth watched Florence scribble something on her legal pad, wondering where the other woman was headed with this particular vein of conversation. In a seemingly casual tone, she said, “I understand that Beth is unable to have biological children.”

  Beth had never heard a more pregnant pause. Even the clock on the mantel seemed to stop ticking, waiting for Tony’s reply.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “She told me before we were married.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” Mrs. Donahue asked.

  Suddenly, Beth remembered the foil package she’d found on the bed after the first time they’d made love. He hadn’t reached for a condom again, and she hadn’t given it much thought. Until now. She looked at Tony, schooling her expression to appear casual and unconcerned about his answer.

  He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then turned back to the other woman. “I think it’s a shame. You should see her with Christopher. Beth is one of those women who could easily handle a house full of kids.”

  B
eth appreciated his insight, but Florence Donahue wasn’t as easily appeased. “It only takes one child to make a family, Doctor.”

  The fact that Tony didn’t seem to know how to reply brought a whole new set of worries to mind. Coming to his rescue, Beth said, “For Tony and I, that child is Christopher.”

  Mrs. Donahue raised her penciled eyebrows again. Beth braced herself for whatever she was about to say. Instead of stating facts or voicing her opinion, the heavy-set woman said, “I think we’ve covered enough for today.”

  She set a time for the next appointment, gathered her things and left.

  Tony was quiet, seeming to pay an inordinate amount of attention to shrugging into his jacket. Since Beth couldn’t very well just stand there staring, she began tidying up the table.

  “Remind me to tell Gib about Florence Donahue.”

  She turned suddenly, pencils in one hand, a notebook in the other, “what” undoubtedly written all over her face.

  Tony smoothed his hand down his tie and cast her one of his most appealing half smiles. “Gib spent his formative years in combat in the marines and the past ten years working for a private agency that deals with covert action. He’s been trained by the best, but he could still take a tip or two from Mrs. Donahue concerning tactical maneuvers and pointed interrogations.”

  She was sure Tony expected her to smile, and she did, eventually, although she really wanted to ask him about the expression behind his eyes. Even though the sexual aspect of their marriage had advanced considerably—she nearly blushed at that understatement—she still didn’t know him well enough to decipher his moods.

  “You’re quite a woman, Mrs. Petrocelli.”