if you’re pregnant.”
“What are you saying?” she’d asked.
He’d stopped slinging fishing gear into his backpack and had walked over to her. Cupping her chin with blunt, tanned fingertips so that she was forced to stare up into his blue eyes, he hadn’t spoken until he was sure he had her full attention.
“If there’s a baby, I want it,” he said softly. “Do you understand me?”
But he didn’t want her. She’d nodded and after a long moment he’d freed her chin.
“Okay then,” he said.
“I could lock myself into the downstairs bedroom and not come out until morning. You wouldn’t even know I was here.”
He’d turned and smiled at her. “Trust me. It wouldn’t be the same. I need to be completely alone.”
“But I wouldn’t bother you.”
“The hell you say. Every fiber in my being would know you’re nearby. You bother me by existing.”
“Oh.”
She must have looked hurt because his expression had gentled.
“But not always in the worst possible way.”
Not always in the worst possible way. Was that a compliment?
Before he’d left, he’d locked his office and his bedroom upstairs. She’d stiffened at those final clicks as the bolts shot home and he’d withdrawn his key.
When she’d been a little girl, she used to follow her father everywhere when he’d packed for a trip. She’d lingered, watching him lock all the doors that kept her out of entire wings of their houses and apartments too.
The servants, of course, had had keys so they could clean. But his only daughter had had no access.
All her father’s homes had been furnished with valuable antiques and art collections worthy of museums. He’d said he didn’t trust the servants to keep her from sitting on the chairs and spilling drinks or food on the furniture or tainting one of his precious sculptures or paintings with oily fingerprints.
How different her mother had been. Their homes had previously been filled with sunlight and flowers and friends. She’d always had time to sit on the floor and play with her daughter or read to her or chat.
After Alicia finished her sandwich, she sat in silence sipping her milk. Finally, she rose and washed the dishes.
Feeling too restless and lonely to shower and get ready for bed, she began to pace, calling to Gus, who had disappeared again.
Climbing the floating stairs, she lingered outside Jake’s locked bedroom and remembered the night he’d carried her inside and kicked the door shut. The walls of his bedroom were either floor-to-ceiling bookshelves or tall windows with views of his large backyard and pool.
They’d made love on his bed and then on the thick woven rug by his bed. Then they’d lain in bed talking. When she’d noticed that only books filled his shelves, she’d asked him why he didn’t have a single photograph of his friends or family.
“I left home when I was very young. I traveled light. This house is rented, like all the houses I’ve lived in. So—no pictures.”
“You’ve never built yourself a house?”
“Maybe someday.”
“My father didn’t like photographs either. He wouldn’t even let me have a picture of my mother in my room. He said photographs depressed him because they reminded him of things that were dead and over. He said he wanted to live entirely in the present.”
Jake’s face had hardened at the mention of her father, but he’d stroked her mouth with a fingertip and had said nothing. Had he known then he would team up with Hayes Daniels the next day and accuse her father? Or had Hayes approached him?
After Jake had blown the whistle on her father, Jake had called her; maybe to explain his side. Or maybe to hear her side.
Not that she’d taken his calls.
Still, how many times had she nearly picked up the phone because she’d ached to hear his voice and had wondered why he was calling?
Part of her wanted to hate him for what he’d done to her father, but he wasn’t her father’s only accuser. Serious amounts of money had gone missing. Someone was responsible. Naturally she didn’t want to believe it was her father.
Turning, wishing she could empty her mind of all her confusion concerning Jake and her father, Alicia walked back downstairs.
Her footsteps were hollow taps echoing through the house, which felt too empty without Jake.
At the bottom of the stairs she shut her eyes. More than anything she wished he was here.
What was going on?
Never had she felt more mixed up by the impossible, mysterious longings in her heart.
Five
“I told you I was pregnant, didn’t I?” Alicia said gloomily. “You should have been prepared.”
“Should have been is definitely the operative figure of speech here.” Jake gripped her elbow and hurriedly propelled her out of the doctor’s office building into the parking lot.
It was nearly one o’clock and the heat was searing. Cars whizzed past them on the busy street.
“I didn’t realize how much I hoped you were wrong about this,” he said, moving to the street side of the walkway to shield her from the traffic.
With an effort, she tried to ignore the sting of his words. She’d hated the way he’d barely looked at her or the doctor, the way he’d barely said a word during the office visit. The instant the doctor had confirmed Alicia’s fears, Jake’s tanned face had hardened into a stony mask. No matter how the doctor had attempted to get him to open up, he’d rebuffed her every question. The only sign of life in Jake’s set face now was the fiery turbulence in his grim blue eyes that hinted at the inner battle raging inside him.
“You certainly put on a happy face in the doctor’s office,” Jake muttered. “I couldn’t believe all the questions you asked the doctor, like this is a normal pregnancy and we are a normal, happy couple.”
“I’m not exactly happy,” she whispered, warier of him because of his dark mood. “But I wish I was. Just as I wish you could be, too. Any child deserves parents who want him—even ours.”
“Hell.”
“I can’t help it if I want our child to be wanted and have a normal, loving childhood. Any mother would.”
“Even a mother who despises the father of her baby?”
But she didn’t despise him. She’d liked having him with her at the doctor’s office.
“Do
