A smile appeared on Paul’s face. “It’s fine with me.” He glanced at her. “Leah?”
She nodded.
“Great. See you two lovebirds later.”
Lovebirds. The word leapt out at Leah. If Jason hadn’t arrived when he did, she and Paul would’ve made love. Despite all the very good reasons she’d assembled in her mind. Despite the fact that they weren’t in love. Despite the fact that she wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with the complexities of a sexual relationship. Despite all that, they would have made love.
Leah walked into the kitchen and stood by the sink, staring out at the backyard.
Paul followed her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, standing behind her.
Leah doubted it. “What?”
“You’d still prefer if we waited before we make love.”
“Yes!” She whirled around to face him. “How’d you know that?”
His smile drooped. “Because I’d prefer to wait, too.”
* * *
Paul changed his mind fifteen times in the next fifteen minutes, and a hundred more times as the evening progressed. Jason calling them lovebirds was what convinced him Leah had been right about holding off on the lovemaking.
The word had the same effect on him as a punch to the stomach. Did he love Leah? Paul didn’t know. He was physically hungry for her. He admired and trusted her. He was grateful to her. He appreciated her. He found her generous and sweet.
But did he love her?
That was the one question Paul couldn’t answer. He loved Diane. He could never stop loving her. But if he loved Diane, was it possible to love Leah at the same time?
This was another question for which Paul didn’t have an answer.
Although he’d rationalized marriage and a physical relationship between them—Diane wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone—he discovered the justification no longer eased his mind. He had no way of really knowing what Diane would’ve wanted.
Diane had been his wife. But now he was married to Leah. Where did that leave him?
Married to one.
Devoted to the other.
That was where it left him. Exactly where he’d been weeks earlier. One foot in the present, the other in the past. Torn between two sisters.
One alive.
The other dead.
Married to both.
* * *
Paul took Leah out to dinner that night. A fancy restaurant. Expensive, elegant. He’d already robbed her of so many of the things a wife was entitled to. A courtship, for one.
Leah was a beautiful, generous woman, but she’d been the only one giving in their relationship. It angered Paul that he’d been so oblivious to her needs.
Not only had Leah been deprived of a courtship, but she hadn’t even had a decent wedding—a ceremony with flowers and music, family and friends. Instead he’d rushed her to a preacher friend, not even the minister at the church they attended. He’d married her before strangers, as though he was ashamed.
As the evening went on, Paul felt even worse. He’d cheated this warm, gracious woman out of so much. He wondered how long it would take him to make it up to her. He knew one thing. He’d do it before he made any physical demands on her.
Leah deserved that much.
* * *
Leah wasn’t sure what she should expect of married life with Paul. After the first week, she was more confused than ever. Other than that first afternoon, Paul had hardly touched her. He kissed her cheek before he left for the office and again when he came home. But that was the extent of their physical contact.
Yet he’d never been more generous. He frequently brought her small gifts. A red rose on Monday. Bubble bath on Wednesday. A huge chocolate-chip cookie on Friday.
Leah didn’t know what to make of the changes in him. He was patient and gentle. Tender in ways she hadn’t expected. He praised her efforts, complimented her on her meals and on how clean the house was or how happy the children seemed. He complimented her, too, on her appearance—her hair, the clothes she wore, her eyes.
This was all well and good. But Leah longed to be a wife. A real wife. Not just a stand-in wife and mother, a replacement for her sister.
And she wanted all this even though she’d told him she’d prefer to wait.… She was embarrassed by her contradictory response to him. Yes, she felt that a sexual relationship shouldn’t take place until they knew each other well. And yet… And yet…
Nights were the worst for Leah. After dinner Paul generally worked on his novel. He did this once the children were in bed—he always helped her with the twins and with Kelsey. But as soon as they were down for the evening, he retreated to his den.
Although he’d never said as much, not that he ever would, Leah was convinced his sudden focus on the novel was a convenient way to avoid being alone with her.
It might not have hurt so much if he hadn’t kissed her and loved her so sweetly the first afternoon they were married. If he hadn’t kissed her and told her how beautiful she was to him, she might never have known what she was missing.
But she did know.
She couldn’t tell him, though; she just couldn’t. And she certainly couldn’t ask him to make love to her. Maybe some women could, but not Leah.
They slept in the same bed, but they might as well be in different countries for all the space Paul maintained between them.
All three of the children could have slept comfortably between them. And sometimes they did.
Ryan and Ronnie were pleased that their aunt Leah was now their daddy’s wife. Leah wasn’t convinced they understood the implications, except that she’d moved into the bedroom with their dad and they could have their playroom back.
Nearly two weeks after their wedding, Leah was absolutely sure Paul never intended to make love to her. She was busy arranging a vase of cut flowers after dinner on Friday evening when he came into the kitchen. The kids were asleep, and the night was gently warm.
Paul poured himself a cup of coffee.
“How’s the writing?” she asked, keeping up the facade.
“Slow.”
“Do you want to talk about the scene?” They did that sometimes.
“No.”
His refusal hurt a little. If he hadn’t been so loving toward her in so many other ways, Leah would’ve felt even worse. She gave him a smile of encouragement and returned to her task.
A half hour later she was leaving the bathroom—her hair damp, wearing a cool cotton gown—just as Paul came into the hallway. He stopped when he saw her. His blue eyes looked wild.
Neither moved.
Leah could see every breath he took. She watched the pulse hammering in his neck and felt the tension that seemed to throb through his body.
Right then Leah sensed that he wanted her. It wasn’t tension she saw in him but desire.
“Paul,” she whispered, holding out her hand. “I … I want to be your wife.” Her voice was shaky; she couldn’t help that. This was as close as she could come to asking. His reaction to her was an invitation; she knew that. An invitation she was going to accept.
He closed his eyes. “You’re…ready?”
She nodded. “I’m ready.”
“There’ll be no turning back.”
“I know.”
He took one step toward her and she met him halfway. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the floor until her mouth was level with his own. Then he kissed her with an urgency that stole the breath from her lungs.
Nine
Leah had finally, finally given him the signal he’d been waiting for. Hoping for.
In the past two weeks Paul had tried to court her, show her how grateful he was to have her in his life. He’d brought her small gifts. But they seemed insignificant and couldn’t begin to express everything that was in his heart. If anything, the gifts seemed to embarrass her more than they pleased her.
He wanted to talk openly with her, explain what was
on his mind, but found it impossible. To his credit, during the first week of courting her, his motives had been pure. It was torture sleeping with Leah beside him without touching her. No small feat, he realized, particularly now that he held her in his arms.
The second week, his vision of what he’d hoped to accomplish had blurred, his original objective obscured by his growing frustration. Soon he’d lost track of just about everything, except what he was denying himself. At night he closeted himself in his home office, because being alone with her and not touching her was just too difficult.
Now that she was voluntarily in his arms, Paul wanted no room for misunderstanding. This time, what they started, they would finish. Like he’d told her, there was no turning back.
His hands were eager as he carefully pulled off her cotton nightgown. She must have sensed his excited perusal. Her gaze skirted shyly past him as she smiled. Paul reached out and placed his hand against the side of her face. She pressed her own hand over his.
“Second thoughts?”
Her gaze dropped as she shook her head. “None.”
“Good.” Which had to be the understatement of the century.
All that was left between them was the richness of their desire. All that was left was a beauty that overwhelmed him. A radiance that transcended them both.
* * *
“Oh, Paul,” she whispered afterward, her eyes bright with tears. “I never realized it could be so beautiful.” She combed her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to make love to me.”
“Me not make…not want…never…” The words twisted themselves around the end of his tongue. “I’ve been doing everything but cartwheels in the garden trying to get you to notice me. What do you need, woman, smoke signals?”
Leah chuckled softly. “I doubt it would’ve done any good.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve discovered that, for all your brilliance, you can be pretty dense.”
“Who, me?”
“If anyone needed to send smoke signals, it was me.”
Paul was floored. “Are you trying to tell me you—”
She nodded. “I wanted to say something…but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. Anyway, you kept avoiding me.”
“Avoiding you?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “I had to escape because I didn’t trust myself alone with you. Leah, I’ve been crazy for you since before we got married.”
“You have?”
It shocked him that she was genuinely surprised to hear it. “You’ve kept me waiting nearly two weeks.”
“I’m…not very good at letting you know my feelings, am I?”
He smiled down at her. “Remember, I’m not a mind reader. You’re going to have to tell me what you want.”
She nodded—and kissed him again.
* * *
At work Paul’s mind wandered. There was probably a word for what was happening between him and Leah; he just didn’t know what it was. Not long ago, they’d only communicated about the children or the household or occasionally his book. Now they were profoundly, intimately, attuned to each other.
Simply put, he needed Leah. He felt a sense of freedom in making love to her. Freedom and joy. A joy so great it all but sang from his heart. He expected to feel remorse and guilt, and had been almost giddy with relief when he felt neither. The first night he’d made love to her he’d lain awake and waited for the guilt to come crashing in on him. It hadn’t.
He wasn’t certain exactly what he should be feeling. If not guilt, then what?
He had loved Diane. He loved her still. That confused him even more. If he cared so deeply for Diane, then how was it possible to love Leah as much as he did?
For the first time in months, Paul was feeling something other than emotional pain, and it felt good. He didn’t want to do anything that might threaten the happiness Leah had brought him.
Just thinking about his wife, at home waiting for him, made Paul rush out of the office. He found he did that most evenings now, eager to get home to his family. He’d hug his children and then bide his time until he could be with his wife, with Leah, alone.
Tonight he could hardly wait for the kids to go to bed after dinner. When they protested, saying it was still light outside, Paul appeased the twins by reading them a story. He tucked them in and within minutes they were asleep.
Then he walked into the kitchen, where Leah was cleaning up after bathing Kelsey and putting her to bed. She glanced over at him and smiled shyly.
There was a sweet innocence about her that got to him. He’d look at her a certain way, and she’d blush. He’d discovered that he loved to make her blush. She was very different in that regard from Diane and it entranced him.
“Leah.” He moved up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck. “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered.
She turned slightly. “Paul, I think we should talk.”
“Later,” he promised, kissing the side of her face. “We’ll do all the talking you want later. I promise.”
“The boys…they just went down.”
“They’re asleep. I made sure of that.”
“But…”
He was surprised by her resistance. Not once since that first night had she offered even a token protest.
“All right,” he said, dragging in a deep breath. “What’s wrong?”
“I …don’t know.”
“Obviously something’s bothering you.”
“Yes…” She stayed where she was, her back to him. “What about Diane?” she said in a low voice.
“What about her?”
“Do you…do you pretend—”
“No.” He didn’t allow her to finish because he knew what she was going to ask. “Not once have I made love to you and thought of her. Not once.” He said it emphatically, so there’d be no doubt in her mind.
“Then…then what do you think about?”
He said the first thing that came to him. The truth. “How much I want you, how much you satisfy me. How grateful I am that you’re in my life—and in my bed.”
She turned to face him and slowly raised her eyes to his, studying his expression, seeking some outward sign that he was telling her the truth.
He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s true, Leah.”
He kissed her then, astonished by the sweetness and the power of her kiss.
“You’re sure the boys are asleep?” she asked in a whisper-thin voice. “I know Kelsey is…”
“Yes,” Paul said, urging her toward the bedroom.
She didn’t hesitate.
* * *
When they lay in each other’s arms, satisfied and exhausted, Paul returned to the worry she’d confided in him a little earlier.
“Please believe me when I say I’ve never, ever, confused you with Diane. I need you, Leah. Not because of the way we make love together, and not because of all the help you’ve given me with the children. I don’t know exactly when it happened or even why, but I need you in my life. To laugh with me. To share the joy of raising my children, to share the grief of losing someone we both deeply loved.”
Paul’s hands abandoned hers and moved to softly caress her face. “I call myself a writer, work with words every day, yet I can’t find the words I need now. I wish I could say everything I feel for you. I wish I could explain what’s in my heart….”
His mouth took her, and, sighing, she lifted her arms and slid them around his neck.
The phone on the bedside table rang just then, and Paul groaned and broke away. He let it ring a second time and a third as he tried to compose himself before answering.
“Hello.” Despite his effort he knew he sounded gruff and impatient.
“Paul, it’s Rich. Got a minute?”
Paul’s eyes met Leah’s and he grinned. That was about as long as he was willing to spare. “Yeah, a minute.”
“Jamie and I were
talking. Actually, Jason was in on the discussion, too.”
“What discussion?”
“I’m getting around to that, so quit being so impatient. We all want to take you and Leah out to dinner Saturday night. Sort of a welcome-to-the-family thing for Leah. We should’ve done it sooner, but with Mom and Dad out of town… Anyway, better late than never.”
It took an instant for his brother’s words to sink in. He turned his face away from his wife because looking at Leah was too distracting.
“What did you say?” he muttered. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, dinner. Saturday night for you and Leah. Uh, do you want me to call back later?”
“No, that’s okay. We’ll need to find a sitter, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Mom and Dad will want to hold a reception for the two of you when they’re back from Montana, but that’s not going to be for a month.”
“Or more.”
“Exactly,” Rich said. “It’s too long to wait. We all like Leah and want to make sure she feels welcome.”
“That’s very nice.”
A silence ensued while Paul tried to think of an excuse to get off the phone.
“Why don’t you check with Leah,” Rich suggested. “In case she made other plans.”
“Oh…right.” Paul realized he probably sounded like an idiot. “Hold on a minute.” He cupped his hand over the receiver. “It’s Rich. He’s inviting us out to dinner Saturday evening. Is that a problem?”
“Ah…not that I can think of.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “See you Saturday, then.” He was hanging up the receiver when Rich stopped him.
“You might be interested in knowing where and what time.”
“Oh, right.” He opened his bedstand drawer and got a pen, then wrote down the necessary information using the title page of the paperback he was currently reading.
There was a slight hesitation from Rich once he’d finished. “You okay, Paul? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he answered as evenly as possible. He hung up with a cursory goodbye and reached for Leah. “Now, where were we?”
Stand-In Wife Page 12
