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“So you married him?”
“I called because I didn’t want you learn about it by reading it in the newspapers or on the Web.”
“As if it matters how I learn it! Where is he now? Is he listening? Gloating?”
“No. He left … right after the marriage ceremony. I don’t know where he is or if he’s ever coming home. It’s not like he wanted to marry me.”
“What? Then why the hell … Never mind! It’s your funeral. You were a fool to marry him, so you deserve whatever misery he dishes out—which will be plenty, I assure you. You made your bed—now lie in it!” With that her father, who wasn’t known for his patience or gentleness, hung up on her, leaving her alone in Jake’s big house to enjoy what was left of her wedding day.
As if she could enjoy anything now, trapped in this house, knowing she’d married a man who didn’t care for her, knowing that by doing so, she’d turned her father completely against her. She should have realized how totally empty and bereft she’d feel once she truly alienated him.
Laying down her cordless phone, she went in search of Gus. Naturally, he wouldn’t come or even mew when she called. When she couldn’t find him anywhere on the first floor, she climbed the stairs and found him reclining in the hall outside Jake’s locked, bedroom door, thumping his tail while waiting for the master of the house to come home.
“You little traitor. You’re worthless sometimes, you know that?”
Gus’s eyes remained shut. He looked much too serene as his head remained on his crossed paws even as his tail began to twitch faster.
When she leaned down and picked him up, he meowed loudly and swished his tail to show that he was very much annoyed.
“Traitor! You’re my cat, you know, not his,” she said, kissing the tip of his ear.
The ear whipped against his skull as she headed down the stairs with him. His yellow eyes stared into hers with a feral look that said he didn’t know any such thing. He was his own cat, thank you very much, and, of course, he refused to purr and began to strain to get away.
When she reached the bottom floor, he twisted sharply. A claw from a back paw caught in her forearm as he jumped to the floor. Then he leaped back up the stairs, no doubt to resume his stubborn vigil outside Jake’s door.
“He doesn’t want you any more than he wants me, you know,” she yelled. “Maybe less!” Then she stalked to the hall bathroom, and washed off the beads of blood and toweled her arm dry.
What had she done? Why had she ever thought marrying Jake even for a short time would be a solution to anything? She’d completely alienated her father now, and that loss filled her with a mixture of guilt and regret. Maybe he hadn’t been the most attentive of fathers but he’d always been there, at least in the background. Until now.
He was probably going to prison and she’d married the man who was responsible. Tears flooded her eyes but she brushed them aside, refusing to surrender to emotional turmoil or self-doubt. She’d done what she had to do for her baby.
Marching into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of ice water and then gobbled three dill pickles and a slice of cheese. Then she hurried to her bedroom where she undressed and got ready for a long evening of watching television and reading the books and magazines on her nightstand. All of Jake’s magazines had to do with outdoor adventures, especially in Alaska, which sounded like a freezing hell with way too many mosquitoes, not to mention bears. Funny, but hadn’t he told her that first night that he sometimes went there to be all alone when he was feeling most stressed?
Later, as she climbed into the big bed all by herself and pulled the sheets up to her neck, loneliness washed over her. She wanted Jake, which was stupid and illogical, considering their circumstances. He had kissed her, yes. Passionately. And then he’d hated them both for it.
Why should she think she could matter to Jake, her father’s enemy, who’d been forced to marry her, when she hadn’t ever mattered to anyone else before? Not even her own father.
Except Mother.
Don’t think about any of that. Or even the present. You will get through this. Concentrate on the future.
Thinking of her own baby, her spirits gradually brightened. She wanted her child fiercely and she was willing to fight for the best possible life for her baby—and that included giving her baby a father. Like her mother, she would create a beautiful nursery. Like her mother, she would spend as much time as possible with her child. And maybe … maybe in time what her father had done or hadn’t done would become clear. And Jake’s attitude toward her and their child would change.
For no reason at all she remembered how he’d held her hand and listened so intently that first night she’d confided in him. Then he’d taken her in his arms the day she’d shown up on his doorstep and told him she was pregnant. Today he’d kissed her passionately. Maybe it wasn’t so foolish to believe he had it in him to make a wonderful father and even a good husband.
She had to hold on to that possibility … and fight for it.
Seven
Alicia woke the next morning feeling stronger—until she caught the thick scent of boudin sausage, frying eggs and steaming chicory-flavored coffee wafting out of the air-conditioning vent.
Obviously Jake had come home. Smiling because she was glad he was home, she sat up. At that slight movement her stomach became hollow and her mouth was suddenly too dry for her to swallow. Throwing her sheets aside, she rushed for the bathroom, intending to splash cold water on her face.
In her haste, she slammed into a low table. The china teacup and saucer she’d forgotten to return to the kitchen last night shattered on the oak floor. With a little cry, she kept running.
After bathing her face, the nausea gradually passed.
Last night to cheer herself up she’d watched a couple of comedies on television, which had eased her depression and caused her to laugh until she’d nearly cried. She’d fallen asleep feeling more hopeful about the future.
At the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing and heavy, male footsteps approaching, she turned slowly.
“Jake?”
“Who else? Are you all right?” he rumbled in his deep, insistent voice.
“Just a touch of morning sickness, but I’m fine. Or at least I will be … soon,” she whispered. “Give me a minute. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Are you naked again?” He sounded hopeful.
“You would think of that.”
“I’m a man. You’re a beautiful woman, who’s now my wife. A woman I have a sexual history with. Of course I imagine you naked. All the time.”
“Beautiful? I haven’t brushed my hair and I’ve got mascara smudged under my eyes.” She groaned.
“I was just trying to make you forget how rotten you feel.”
“Just go away.”
Then he was there beside her with the disloyal Gus Dear close at his heels. The feline devil had the gall to purr as his black tail curled around Jake’s legs and then hers.
“Please leave me—both of you,” she begged even as Jake’s hand against her back and Gus’s silky tail raised goose bumps. “I’ll be okay. Really! Go eat your sausage … and give Gus some tuna or something. Oh, God, tuna!” At the thought of tuna, she fought to swallow.
“So it was the smell of our breakfast that made you feel sick.”
“Partly, but I just wake up that way a lot of mornings.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone last night.”
Jake turned on the faucet, wet a rag and then shut it off. His arms circled her waist gently and he bathed her warm face and lips with a cool rag while Gus’s intent yellow eyes watched them both.
“How did you even know I felt queasy?”
“I heard a sound and wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“Probably the cup I broke when I ran in here. I’m sorry—”
“Forget it. I’ll sweep it up in a minute.”
“You must have been very late last night,” she said, finally looking up at him. Where was her pride? Why had she admitted she’d even noticed the hour?
His icy blue eyes were shadowed, with exhaustion she thought, and his dark face looked ravaged.
“Yes, I was late. Your light was out. I didn’t think you heard me come in.”
She wasn’t about to admit that she hadn’t, even though after her comedies she’d lain alone in the dark for hours listening to every sound the mansion had made. How had she missed his return?
“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said.
Not for the first time she wondered why he had insisted that they live together if her mere presence was such a torture to him he couldn’t stand to be in the same house with her.
“I didn’t get much sleep because your cat insisted on sleeping with me.”
“You should have locked him out then.”
“I did, but he yowled and scratched at my door until I let him back in. Then he lay on top of me purring for the rest of the night.”
“I tried to coax him downstairs to sleep with me earlier but I’m afraid he insisted on lying in wait for you outside your door.”
“Stubborn creatures, cats,” Jake said.
“Disloyal!” she snapped.
“They know what they want, and they never give up.”
Jake’s hard glance sought her face and then raked her body, causing confused emotions to course through her. Then he smiled. “I have a feeling he’s going to make a real nuisance of himself while we’re married. Funny thing—I sort of enjoyed his company last night. I didn’t feel like sleeping alone.”
If Gus was winning him so easily maybe there was a chance for her ….
A chance for what, you fool? This isn’t a real marriage. Jake’s lost lots of money and his reputation is in shreds. He blames you. Daddy’s been indicted because of him. You can’t forget any of that—ever!
And yet people dealt with crises and moved on, didn’t they?
“I’m all right now, so you can go,” she whispered, struggling to stand.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
The warmth of his hands lingered so caressingly on her arms that she was almost seduced into allowing herself the pleasure of his touch. Then she remembered how he’d cut her at their wedding and left her alone all last night. Shakily, she drew herself up taller and pushed his hands away.
“I know you don’t like me,” she said.
“Is this your perverse way of seeking a compliment?”
“No! Of course not!”
“I think it is, so I’ll have to dream one up.” He scratched his dark head.
If she didn’t know better, she would have thought his quick smile endearingly tender.
“You make it sound like that’s very difficult to do.”
His hand touched the back of her waist gently and then brushed her fingertips. “Not so difficult as you might think. It’s impossible to hate you, cher … knowing that you are carrying my child,” he murmured.
He squeezed her hand. “You were very beautiful yesterday. Okay. Enough compliments.” Then he threw his dark head back and laughed. “Be a good girl. It’s early. Quit looking for trouble. Take a shower and comb your hair. You’ll feel better, and maybe you won’t be so set on bringing out the worst in me—which is fairly easy for you to do—as I’m sure you know.”
Thirty minutes later a freshly showered Alicia walked into the kitchen and was surprised to find her husband sprawled at the table in crisp, pressed jeans and a white shirt, looking much too relaxed and handsome with his cup of coffee as he read the paper.
He’d eaten, washed his dishes and cooking utensils and put them away. So why was her husband, who preferred to avoid her, still hanging out in his tidy kitchen? Surely he wasn’t eagerly waiting for his temporary bride to appear.
Sunshine streamed through the windows, filling the mostly white room with golden light. He looked so content with his dark head bent over his paper, for a second she could almost forget how angrily he’d loomed beside her at their wedding yesterday before vanishing on their wedding night. She could almost imagine herself a happy bride.
Then their reality slammed her anew. He was her sworn enemy. Kindness from him was not to be counted on or treasured. It was to be distrusted. Thus, when he looked up at her with an amiable smile on his dark face, she frowned.
“What?” He sat up straighter and finger-combed his dark hair. “Am I guilty of some awful new crime or do I just have a crumb on my lip? Or nose?”
As he brushed his mouth and nose with his napkin, she laughed in spite of herself.
“No.”
“You want me gone so you can have the kitchen to yourself? Well, I won’t be bullied out of my own house.”
“I assumed you’d be at the office, avoiding me again … like last night,” she said.
“Right,” he said, “we’re the weirdo newlyweds who did some very interesting variations on sex—positions that are probably still illegal in some states—on this very table, but now we are supposed to have an aversion to sex.”
Maybe because he was so preoccupied with sex or the lack of it, she remembered lying naked on the kitchen table in this very room, crying out his name in the heat of her passion. She’d loved him that night, incoherently. With his every touch, with every flick of his tongue, he’d awakened a fire inside her she hadn’t known existed, and the embers of that fire still hadn’t gone out.
As he stared at the table, she began to sizzle.
Sensing an advantage when she blushed, he moved his hand back and forth across the smooth finish of the tabletop in the way he might stroke a woman. “You know you could change your mind about that. I won’t object.”
“But you don’t even like me.”
“I’m a man.” He ran his hand along the tabletop again, caressing it. “I can compartmentalize. Let’s just say my body likes yours, and it wonders … upon occasion … rather frequently—hell, all the time—how yours feels about mine. If you want the truth, I don’t think I slept a wink last night. I kept thinking of you in your bed and me upstairs sleeping with a cat.”
She moved to set a kettle boiling on the stove. “You make us sound like we’re no better than animals.”
“You’re in my house, cute as hell … available. I wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t tempt me.”
“Even though you hate my father?”
“He isn’t here. With any luck he’ll be sent to a place where he can’t hurt any more people.”
Fortunately, the tea kettle whistled. With hands that shook she pulled an egg out of the fridge and placed it in the middle of a pot. As she poured boiling water over it, the egg cracked. She set the pot on the stove top anyway. She was almost glad he’d reminded her of her father’s plight and the satisfaction he took in it. The knowledge helped her build up her defenses.
“I’m just being honest,” he said. “There’s a bit of the wild in us all. Why else do we have to spend years and years civilizing our young? Why else did we behave like we did that night? On this very table?”
“Stop ….”
