"Something's come up," he said. "I need to tell you about it."
"You're leaving," she said, amazed that she was actually very calm.
He turned slowly to face her. His jaw was taut, his hard mouth bracketed by lines that had never seemed quite so pronounced before.
"How did you guess?" he asked with a wry twist to his deep voice.
"Female intuition," she said, desperately trying to match his tone.
He drew a breath. Raine sensed the control he was exercising. It both fascinated and frightened her.
"I had a call from Frank Weinhard last night, while you were next door."
She felt a rush of dismay. "Is he ill?" she asked with genuine concern.
Morgan shook his head. "Actually, he called to ask a favor."
"I see." She wrapped both hands around her mug so that he wouldn't notice their trembling. "Of course, whatever it is, you can't possibly refuse. Not after all he's done for you." She saw his jaw tighten and hurried on. "I mean that, Morgan. In many ways Frank was the father you should have had."
The father he deserved. A kind and compassionate man with a core of inner toughness that matched Morgan's own. A worthy role model for a young man desperate for guidance and understanding.
"If it was just a story at stake, we wouldn't even be having this discussion, but it looks like it might be a lot more than that."
Raine took a careful breath. She felt a slow tug on the lower part of her belly, followed by a more insistent twisting sensation. To mask her discomfort, she lifted the mug to her mouth and pretended to sip.
"How long will you be gone?" she asked when the contraction eased.
"A week, maybe two. Depends on how things shake out." He shoved his hands into his back pockets, then a second later, pulled them free. "I'll call as soon as I know."
"I'd appreciate that."
"I talked to Jarrod this morning. He's pretty sure you're going to hold off at least that long."
"Yes, that's what he said on Tuesday." Morgan knew that. He'd been with her in Luke's office, enthralled by the images on the ultrasound screen. She'd been touched by his excitement. For all the world, he'd seemed as eager as any expectant father to see the faces in the shadowy images.
"Yeah, well, I figured I'd check with him again, just to make sure." He cleared his throat. "Your dad has agreed to stay with you until I get back."
Raine was so surprised, she nearly let go of her coffee mug. She regained control of her fingers just in time. "You called my father?"
He eyed her warily. "About an hour ago. He'll be here before noon."
She blinked, stunned at the thought of Morgan asking a favor of her father. "Do you need any help packing?"
"No, but thanks for the offer. I packed this morning while you were still sleeping."
Feeling dazed, she glanced around the room, looking for the scuffed, size-twelve sneakers under the chair. The socks on the floor. His worn wallet on her dresser. The room was once again as neat as a pin. Just the way she liked it.
"Looks like you've done a thorough job, but then you've had a lot of practice."
His face tightened, and she felt the prick of tears. "I'm sorry, Morgan. In case you've forgotten, I don't handle surprises very well."
"I haven't forgotten." He stuck his hands in his pockets again, approaching the bed warily.
"You're not wearing your khaki shirt."
He glanced down, his expression rueful. "You said I was too rigid. I'm trying to loosen up."
She smiled. "I see."
He stopped when he reached the bed and looked at her. She felt as though he was searching for words. "I made you a promise and I had every intention of keeping it. Say the word and I'll stay."
Raine felt a wild urge to do just that and had to take a deep breath before it was safely subdued. "And if you stayed, what then?"
He shrugged. "I'd take some flak. Nothing major."
"You'd disappoint Frank."
"He'd get over it."
She almost believed him. Only the tiny flicker of his lashes betrayed him.
"When … when does your plane leave?"
"Eleven-fifteen."
Raine didn't have to look at the clock to know he had to leave within minutes in order to make it on time. "Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
She set her mug on the table and started to throw off the sheet. At least they would have the time it took to drive to the airport to be together.
"I called a cab," he said, stopping her. "He's outside, waiting."
"I see."
He hesitated, then sat down and took one of her hands in his. She felt her body react to his touch, like a flower opening to the warmth of the sun. She knew now that she would always be vulnerable to this man. Married, divorced. It didn't matter. He was a part of her.
"I hate leaving like this, Raine. With things so unsettled between us."
"I love you," she said softly.
His mouth quirked. "Even believing I'm a coward and a liar?"
She felt the blood drain from her face. "Don't say that. It's not true."
He looked at her for a long time, those golden lion's eyes intensely probing. "This is a nice place. Nice people. You belong here."
"And you hate it?"
He shook his head. "I've been doing some thinking. I never realized until I lived here with you these past weeks that every other time I'd been home I was just playing house. I never got involved in your real life. Or Mike's." His jaw tightened, then relaxed. "Not the way Case is involved with his family. Or Boyd. Not where it counts."
"But you could be involved. Deeply involved."
His gaze flickered. "Jarrod may be right to doubt me. Maybe I can't go the distance."
Raine took a breath. "I think you can do anything you set your mind to."
His mouth quirked. "Never staying in one place very long, living out of a suitcase or a Range Rover—it started out as a necessity. A way to prove myself. To show the world I'm as good as anyone else. Better." He filled his chest with air and let it out slowly. "If it's just a habit, I can break it. If it's … part of who I am, who I need to be…" He let the sentence remain unfinished. Raine had no trouble filling in the rest.
"In other words, until you know the answer to that question, we'd better keep things open-ended between us."
He narrowed his gaze. She felt the heat of his body and the hard edge of tension riding him. "It's taken me a while to admit it, but I was a lousy father, and a worse husband. I don't take failure lightly, Raine. It hurts like hell, and I'm not much for pain."
He smiled, and so did she. "None of us are."
"But some have a greater tolerance." He rubbed his thumb over her hand. "You, for instance. Grabbing at life even knowing you might end up bleeding."
"It's not like that."
"Sure it is. And twin boys?" He shook his head. "Now that takes guts."
She laughed softly. "The luck of the draw, so to speak."
He glanced down at the mound of tummy and babies under her nightshirt. "These past weeks, feeling them kick me in the belly night after night, watching them tumbling around under your clothes … I'd all but forgotten they're not mine."
She felt tears welling. "Oh, Morgan—" He stopped her by pressing two fingers to her lips.
"I need a goodbye kiss, honey, to take with me. And make it count."
Her hands weren't quite steady as she reached up to frame his face. She tilted her head, then brought her mouth to his. It was a soft kiss, yet she felt him tremble. She drew back, used one finger to trace his lower lip.
"Your eyes are pure gold. I love your eyes. I love you, lousy coffee, watery spaghetti, quirky rituals and all."
His lashes flickered. "Raine—"
"No, it's okay. I don't expect anything more of you than you've already given me." She let her eyes close as she lifted her face to his again. His lips crashed down hard, and his tongue plunged.
His hands dug into her hair and trapped her, while he ex
plored her mouth with a frantic intensity that took her breath. She was breathing hard when he lifted his head. She let her lashes flutter open, and realized that he was staring at her with an almost palpable longing. "Oh baby, I wish—"
A horn tooted outside, and he muttered a curse.
"Go," she whispered, fighting valiantly to keep her lips from trembling. "Do what you have to do. If you can come back to me willingly, without reservations or resentment, I'll be waiting."
He closed his eyes for a long moment, then with a harsh growl, leaned forward to give her one more hard kiss.
He got up quickly then, and walked to the door. At the threshold, he turned and looked back at her.
"I signed the divorce papers," he said gruffly. "They're in the den. Not because I wanted to, but because it seemed fair."
With that, he was gone.
"More cobbler, Father?" Raine asked with a bright smile.
"No thank you, daughter. I've crammed this old body about as full as I can and still leave room for my lungs to work." Arthur Connelly sat back in her dining room chair and beamed across the centerpiece. "It was another triumph, my dear. I shall be very sorry to go back to my own cooking."
Raine took a sip of milk and glanced toward the twin bassinets placed side by side near the window seat. Both boys had slept through most of their first Labor Day holiday.
September had come in with a whimper this year. All the excitement had happened in August.
She'd been in hard labor by the time her father had arrived a scant forty minutes after Morgan had left. The boys had been in a hurry, arriving just three hours later. Jarrod had performed the necessary surgery immediately, and she'd been pleased to realize she was a fast healer. Luke had pronounced her almost as good as new at her checkup just last week.
"I hope you don't think I'm throwing you out," she told her father with a smile. "I've enjoyed beating you at chess every night."
Arthur frowned. "I beg to remind you that I won both matches last night."
"I stand corrected."
He fiddled with the already perfect knot of his tie. Cleared his throat, sighed, then cleared his throat again. "I'm sorry you haven't heard from him. I thought … well, when I talked to him on the phone before he left, he sounded so concerned about you. I thought maybe things had changed."
Raine felt a whisper of pain in the vicinity of her heart. "At least he left to do something really important."
Her father's seamed face took on a sheepish expression. "I said some harsh things to him when he told me he was leaving."
"I'm sure he knows you didn't mean them."
"Of course, I meant them—at the time," he declared, huffing indignantly. "How was I to know he had a lead on a plot to kidnap the Pope?"
Raine fiddled with her unused coffee spoon. She took her coffee black these days. "He looked terribly tired on TV when he broke the story. I hope he's not still having those headaches."
Arthur coughed into his napkin. Then sniffed. "As you know, I've been periodically checking my answering machine for messages while I've been staying here. There have been several from Morgan, asking me to leave word about you with some man named Bronstein in New York."
Raine looked up, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"He asked me not to."
"You talked with him?"
"No, he was inaccessible by phone. Bronstein said he was checking in often, though." Arthur offered her a sympathetic look. In the five weeks since the babies had been born, she and her father had grown closer. It was a comfort having him there to rock Matt while Alex nursed or vice versa. But her father was going home tomorrow. The fall semester was starting in a week's time, and he had lesson plans to organize.
"Besides, it's time I got used to being a single parent again."
Her father's soft cluck of sympathy told her she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. "So you're going through with the divorce."
She hesitated. "I think I have to in order to make a fresh start."
"And Morgan?"
She sat up straighten It seemed to help. "Morgan will always be a part of my life. I don't hate him. I love him, and he'll be welcome to visit as often as he likes."
"So life goes on?"
Raine nodded. "It does indeed. But then—"
The phone rang, startling them both. "I'll get it," Raine said, grabbing a plate in each hand to carry into the kitchen. In the weeks since the babies' arrival, she'd learned to make use of every spare minute.
It was Prudy on the line. "Are you watching?" she demanded without bothering to say hello. "Did you know what he was planning? Why didn't you tell me?"
Raine blinked. "Who? Planning what?"
"Morgan. He's being reassigned. No more foreign assignments. I just saw it on the tube. If you hurry … oh rats! Too late."
Raine realized her knees were shaking. Grabbing a kitchen chair, she pulled it closer and sank onto the seat. "No more foreign assignments?"
"That's what he said." She heard Prudy's rapid intake of breath. "He was giving an update on that hostage thing about the Pope. About how the Saudis arrested the head of that weirdo group and—"
"Forget those idiots. What about Morgan?"
"I'm coming to that." Prudy sounded offended, and Raine apologized.
"I understand. Anyway, he said it was his last broadcast for the nightly news."
"That's all? Nothing about his plans?"
"Nope. Just that he was looking forward to new challenges."
"What does that mean?"
"Beats me. Maybe he means helping you to raise twin sons, which is definitely a challenge if you ask me." She laughed. "Case agrees. He said the guy's hooked on you big-time and wouldn't be surprised if we looked out the window tomorrow or the next day and saw him pushing those two darlings of yours in the stroller."
Case was sure wrong this time, Raine thought as she guided the big stroller around a puddle on the sidewalk leading from her carport to her back door. It had been two weeks since Morgan's announcement.
Fourteen days of alternating between elated anticipation and deepest misery. She'd expected a call that very night. When it hadn't come, she'd convinced herself she'd hear from him in the morning. When she hadn't, she'd told herself it was the time difference and made sure she was near a phone whenever she was nursing the babies.
Just in case.
But now she no longer jumped when the phone rang. Or ran to the door when the bell chimed.
"Hi, neighbor," Stacy called from her backyard where she was raking sodden leaves. "Want to come in for some coffee? I made a fresh pot."
"Sounds great." Raine steered the stroller off the walk and aimed for the gate in the hedge separating the two properties.
Stacy had put aside her rake and had the gate opened by the time Raine reached it. "Good heavens, I'd swear these two have grown since I saw them two days ago," Stacy exclaimed as she released the safety belt on one of the seats. "This is Matt, right?"
Raine laughed. "Nope. Alex. His hair is the teeniest bit curlier."
Stacy hugged the sleepy baby and cooed nonsense into his tiny ear. "You adorable darling, you. Makes me want to have a son."
Raine gave Matt a kiss on his chubby cheek before grabbing the diaper bag slung over the stroller's handle. "There are days when I wonder if I wasn't really a tad crazy when I decided I wanted to be a mom again."
"And days when you're so glad you are you want to sing with joy," Stacy teased.
"True, but that's usually when they're sleeping."
It took some doing to get both babies inside, the bulky stroller dried and transported to the kitchen and the babies snuggled into the seats again. Matt fell asleep almost immediately. Alex was more inquisitive, glancing around the bright kitchen with absorbed interest.
Both boys' eyes had started to take on a darker hue. They'd be brown, she thought. Like hers. But so far, their hair was a rich golden color. Like Morgan's.
"Are they always this good?" Stacy asked with som
ething resembling awe on her face as she set a brimming mug of French Roast on the place mat in front of Raine.
"During the daytime, yes. They like to play at night." She sampled the coffee and pronounced it perfect. If a trifle weak, she thought to herself.
Stacy laughed as she sat down, but quickly sobered. "I'm glad I caught you because my conscience has been giving me fits."
"What about?"
"Morgan."
Raine felt a chill. "What do you mean?"
Stacy bit her lip, then sighed. "Boyd told me to use my own discretion about telling you. After all, your divorce will be final in—what? A month?"
"Six weeks." Raine leaned forward, her heart suddenly pounding. "What about Morgan?"
Stacy sighed. "It seems this Saudi doctor called Boyd this morning. As a courtesy, he said, since technically Morgan was Boyd's patient too, and—"
"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" She jumped up and began to pace. "I knew there was something wrong. Those headaches—"
"It's not the headaches. It's some kind of exotic disease. Or parasite. Something like that anyway. Apparently he was sick before."
Raine grabbed the back of the chair and forced her knees to lock. "It was a spore of some kind."
Stacy nodded. "Anyway, I guess he had a relapse. Folded up at the airport on his way home, according to this doctor and he's been in the hospital ever since." She hesitated, then added softly, "In intensive care."
"Oh my God. I have to do something. Call someone." She scowled. "The Saudi doctor. Boyd would have his number."
Stacy leapt to her feet and reached for the phone. "Here, call."
* * *
It was the same flight. Maybe even the same plane. It was definitely the same flight attendant. Apparently she liked the New York to Portland run. Eyes closed, Morgan smelled her perfume as she walked past his aisle, checking seat belts prior to landing.
She hadn't repeated her invitation for dinner, for which he was grateful. He'd barely had the energy to get himself onto the plane at Kennedy and into his seat—a different one, this time. On the aisle, but in the second row. He was determined to change his habits, but it was damn hard work. Almost as hard as shucking that lousy desert bug that had taken a liking to him. As it was, he'd been so whipped from the overseas flight he'd had to lay over a night in New York.
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