“No.”
“Don’t be stubborn,” he accused, but she shook her head and looked away.
Maybe it would take the warning of an immigration visit to make her see sense, Michael thought. Meanwhile, he could hardly cart her to his place screaming. And did he really want to?
HER APARTMENT looked exactly the same as he’d left it-somewhere between dreary and awful. Michael carried her baggage up the three flights of stairs-the elevator was out of order-and stared around with distaste. He wanted her out of there.
“You can’t stay here.”
“Of course I can.” She smiled as he put her bag on the bed. There wasn’t anywhere else to put it. “I’ve been living here for months and haven’t been mugged yet. I told you- I like it. There are nice people here. Would you like some coffee before you go?”
“I…no.” His brow furrowed. “This is only for a couple of days at the most. Do you have coffee?”
“Hey, I’m not exactly starving in an attic,” she told him, exasperated. “I live simply because I need savings to support myself while I can’t work, but I know how to look after myself. And I’ll stay here until we hear from immigration. You don’t need to worry. I’ve eaten every vitamin and done every exercise Dr. Maitland’s given me.”
“You’re seeing Abby?”
“Of course I’m seeing Abby.” She flushed defensively. “Obstetric care is one of the perks of working at Maitland Maternity. There’s no way Ellie would employ me unless I was looked after by the Maitland obstetric staff, and my baby’s too important for me to take stupid risks.”
“Yeah, right.” He tried to make his voice sound as if he hadn’t been worrying, but it didn’t come out right. Okay, he had been anxious. He’d had visions of her without health insurance, and not having seen a doctor since she’d left England.
But why on earth was he worrying now, when he hadn’t so much as thought of her pregnancy since the day he employed her?
For one reason and one reason only, he told himself grimly. Then she was his secretary.
Now she was his wife.
The realization slammed home hard, and with it came an overwhelming sense of responsibility. It was a feeling so vast it almost knocked him sideways. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t asked for it and he’d never dreamed he’d feel like it. Now, though, it was as much as he could do not to pick up her bag and haul her out of there. Carry her out in a fireman’s hold if he had to.
But she was asking him to leave.
“Thank you, Michael.” She was smiling. “You’ve been wonderful.” Her voice trailed off, but the look she gave him was direct and honest. “I was in a mess, and you’ve rescued me in true hero style. You don’t know how much it means to me, but… Well, thank you.” And she took two steps forward, reached up and kissed him very lightly on the lips.
It was a feather kiss, a kiss of gratitude and relief, no more, and there was no reason in the world it should pack any charge at all.
But pack a charge it did, a million volts slamming through his body, leaving it seared and shaken to its core.
It was the shock, he told himself, dazed, as she drew back-the shock of acknowledging responsibility. He took a step away from her, and she was still smiling with her lovely green eyes, as though she hadn’t felt the charge at all. He figured he’d better get out of there fast. It was their second kiss-and he didn’t dare risk a third.
“I…well…I’ll be off.”
“Yes. You’d best leave. You’ll have things to do.”
“I’ll see you Monday.” His voice sounded lame. Spineless.
“No, Michael, I won’t see you Monday,” she reminded him gently. “There’s only four weeks before the baby’s due. Abby told me to quit. Ellie’s hired you a new secretary. You met her last Wednesday, remember?”
That’s right. This had all been organized. He knew it-sort of. So why the heck was his head fogging up like soup?
“I guess…”
“If immigration contacts either of us, then we’ll get together,” she said. “But after our performance yesterday, they might not even check.”
“Jenny, they’re not stupid. They’ll come, and I don’t know how much notice they’ll give.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She gave a self-mocking smile. “So call me. I’m a cab drive away.”
There was something else gnawing at him. “When the baby’s born… What will you do when you go into labor?” It was impossible to keep a note of anxiety out of his voice.
She heard it and smiled. There was no need for his anxiety, but she liked it all the same. “There’s no problem,” she assured him. “I’ll take a cab or I’ll call an ambulance to take me to the hospital. I’ll even walk, if there’s time.”
“Don’t you dare. Call me.”
“Hey, I’m only eight months pregnant, and I don’t need-”
“Call me!” He barked the command, and she blinked. And then she smiled again.
“Okay, Michael. I’ll call you.”
“At two in the morning if necessary,” he growled. “Anytime. You swear?”
“I swear.”
“There’s nothing else you need?”
“Nothing.”
“I told you, I can afford-”
“There’s nothing else,” she said, with a lot more confidence than she felt. She opened the door, then stood waiting until he passed through it. “Thank you for everything, Michael. Goodbye.”
SHE’D SOUNDED so firm.
Jenny closed the door after her husband and stood for a long, long time with her back against it, staring at nothing. There was nothing else she needed.
Except someone.
Except Michael.
Unconsciously she traced her fingers where his mouth had touched hers, remembering the feel of his harsher skin against the softness of her lips. Nice.
Michael was nice.
“The girls at work would have kittens if they heard me,” she said into the silence, thinking of the reception staff and the female nurses at the hospital. Michael Lord had a reputation as a hunk of the first order. But nice? That was the last word they’d use to describe him. He was cool, aloof, demanding…
“But nice,” she said softly, and fingered the ring on her finger. She’d moved Peter’s rings to her right hand. The new band of gold lay light and strange on her ring finger.
Different.
She touched Peter’s rings and tried to conjure up his face. She couldn’t. Frowning, she crossed to her bag and found his picture, put the photograph on her bedside chair, where it belonged.
“Because Peter’s my husband.”
Peter.
She closed her eyes, pain and guilt washing over her. Peter’s title was this baby’s birthright. If she did what Gloria wanted, the baby could inherit it right away.
No. That way was madness. To barter what she knew was right for this new little life for riches and a title…
“I’m sorry, Peter,” she whispered bleakly into the silence. “I can’t do it. It just seems so wrong. I’m sorry.”
She opened her eyes, and there was no one there. Nothing.
Except tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow…
