"Charles!" she exclaimed, speechless.
His eyes ran over her clothing and his eyebrows arched. "Isn't it early for evening gowns?" He scowled. "Surely you aren't just getting home?"
"As a matter of fact, she is," Simon said from the doorway of the living room, and he looked more dangerous than Tira had ever seen him.
He approached Charles with unblinking irritation. “Isn't it early for you to be calling?" he asked pointedly.
"I have to talk to Tira," Charles said, obviously not understanding the situation at all. "It's urgent."
Simon leaned against the doorjamb and waved a hand in invitation.
Charles glared at him. "Alone," he emphasized. His scowl deepened. "And what are you doing here, anyway?" he added, having been so occupied with Gene and Nessa that he still thought Simon and Tira were feuding. “After what you and your vicious girlfriend said to her at the charity ball, I'm amazed she'll even speak to you."
Jill had gone right out of Tira's mind in the past twenty-four hours. Now she looked at Simon and remembered the other woman vividly, and a look of horror overtook her features.
Simon saw his life coming apart in those wide green eyes. Tira hadn't remembered Jill until now, thank God, but she was going to remember a lot more, thanks to Charles here. He glared at the man as if he'd have liked to punch him.
"Jill is part of the past," he said emphatically.
"Is she, really?" Charles asked haughtily. "That's funny. She's been hinting to all and sundry that you're about to pop the question."
Tira's face drained of color. She couldn't even look at Simon.
Simon called him a name that made her flush and caused Charles to stiffen his spine.
Charles opened the door wide. "I think this would be a good time to let Tira collect herself. Don't you?"
Simon didn't budge. "Tira, do you want me to leave?" he asked bluntly.
She still couldn't lift her eyes. "It might be best."
What a ghostly, thin little voice. The old Tira would have laid about him with a baseball bat. But he'd weakened her, and now she thought he'd betrayed her. Jill had lied. If Tira loved him, why couldn't she see that? Why was she so ready to believe
Charles?
Unless... He glared at the other man. Did she love Charles? Had she given in to a purely physical desire the night before and now she was ashamed and using Jill as an excuse?
"Please go, Simon," Tira said when he hesitated. She couldn't bear the thought that he'd seduced her on a whim and everything he'd said since was a lie. But how could Jill make up something as serious as an engagement? She put a hand to her head. She couldn't think straight!
Simon shot a cold glare at Tira and another one at Charles. He didn't say a single word as he stalked out the door to his car.
Tira served coffee in the living room, having changed into jeans and a sweater. She didn't dare think about what had happened or she'd go mad. Simon and Jill. Simon and Jill...
"What happened?" Charles asked curtly.
"One minute we were engaged and the next minute he was gone," she said, trying to make light of it.
"Engaged?"
She nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.
He put the evening gown and Simon's fury together and groaned. "Oh, no. Please tell me I didn't put my foot in it again?"
She shrugged. "If Jill says he's proposed to her, I don't know what to think. I guess I've been an idiot."
"I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have opened my mouth." He put his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry."
"Why did you come?" she asked suddenly.
He drew his hands over his face, down to his chin. "Gene died this morning," he said gruffly. "I've just left Nessa with a nurse and made the arrangements at the funeral home. I came by to ask if you could stay with her tonight. She doesn't want to be alone, and for obvious reasons, I can't stay in my own house with her
right now."
"You want me to stay with her in your house?" she asked.
He nodded. "Can you?"
"Charles, of course I can," she said, putting aside her own broken relationship for the moment. Charles's need was far greater. "I'll just pack a few things."
"I'll drive you over," he said. "You won't need your car until tomorrow. I'll bring you home then."
"Nessa can come with me," she said. "Mrs. Lester and I will take good care of her."
"That would be nice. But tonight, she doesn't need to be moved. She's sedated, and sleeping right now."
"Okay."
"Tira, do you want me to call Simon and explain, before we go?" he asked worriedly.
"No," she said. "It can wait."
Charles was the one in trouble right now. She refused to think about her own situation. She packed a bag, left a note for Mrs. Lester and locked the door behind them.
The next morning Mrs. Lester found only a hastily scribbled note saying that Tira had gone home with Charles—and not why. So when Simon called the next morning, she told him with obvious reluctance that apparently Tira had gone to spend the night at Charles's house and hadn't returned.
"I suppose it was his turn," he said with bridled fury, thanked her and hung up. He packed a bag without taking time to think things through and caught the next flight to Austin to see the governor about the job he'd been offered.
Gene's funeral was held on the Wednesday, and from the way Nessa clung to Charles, Tira knew that at least somebody's life was eventually going to work out. Having heard from Mrs. Lester that Simon had phoned and gone away furious having thought she spent the night with Charles, she had no hope at all for her own future.
She spent the next few days helping Nessa clear away Gene's things and get her life in some sort of order. Charles was more than willing to do what he could. By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Tira was all by herself and so miserable that she felt like doing nothing but cry.
Nevertheless, she perked herself up, dressed in a neat red pant-suit and went to the orphans' Christmas party that she'd promised to attend.
She carried two cakes that she and Mrs. Lester had baked, along with all the paraphernalia that went with festive eats. Other people on the committee brought punch and cookies and candy, and there were plenty of gaily wrapped presents.
Tira hadn't expected to see Simon, and she didn't. But Jill, of all people, showed up with an armload of presents.
"Why, how lovely to see you, Tira," Jill exclaimed. She didn't get too close—she probably remembered the cup of coffee.
"Lovely to see you, too, Jill," Tira said with a noxious smile. "Do join the fun."
"Oh, I can't stay," she said quickly. "I'm filling in for Simon. Poor dear, he's got a raging headache and he couldn't make it." "Simon doesn't have headaches," Tira said curtly, averting her eyes. "He gives them."
"I thought you knew he frequently gets them when he flies," Jill murmured condescendingly. "I've nursed him through several. Anyway, he just got back from Austin. He's accepted the appointment as attorney general, by the way." She sighed dramatically. "I'm to go with him to the governor's New Year's Ball! And I've got just the dress to wear, too!"
Tira wanted to go off and be sick. Her life had become a nightmare.
"Must run, dear," Jill said quickly. "I have to get home to Simon. Hope the party's a great success. See you!"
She was gone in the flash of an eye. Tira put on the best act she'd ever given for the orphans, handing out cake and presents with a smile that felt glued-on. The media showed up to film the event for the eleven o'clock news, as a human interest story, and
Tira managed to keep her back to the cameras. She didn't want Simon to gloat if he saw how she really looked.
After the party, she wrapped herself in her leather coat, went home and threw up for half an hour. The nausea was new. She never got sick. There could only be one reason for it, and it wasn't anything she'd eaten. Two weeks into her only pregnancy with Tira, her mother had said, the nausea had been immediately apparent long before th
e doctors could tell she was pregnant.
Tira went to bed and cried herself to sleep. She did want the child, that was no lie, but she was so mad at Simon that she could have shot him. Poor little baby, to have such a lying pig for a father!
Just as she opened her eyes, there was a scratching sound and she looked up in time to see the unwelcome mouse, who'd been delightfully absent for two weeks, return like a bad penny. He scurried down the hall and she cursed under her breath. Well, now she had a mission again. She was going to get that mouse. Then she was going to get Simon!
She fixed herself a small milk shake for Christmas dinner and carried it to her studio. She wasn't even dressed festively. She was wearing jeans and a sweater and socks, with her hair brushed but not styled and no makeup on. She felt lousy and the milk shake was the only thing she could look at without throwing up.
Charles and Nessa had offered to let her spend Christmas with them, but she declined. The last thing she felt like was company.
She wandered through the studio looking at her latest creations. She sat down at her sculpting table and stared at the lump of clay under the wet cloth that she'd only started that morning. She wasn't really in the mood to work, least of all on Christmas Day, but she didn't feel like doing anything else, either.
Why, oh, why, had she gone to Simon's apartment? Why hadn't she insisted that he take her home? In fact, why hadn't she left him strictly alone after John died? She couldn't blame anyone for the mess her life was in. She'd brought it on herself by chasing after a man who didn't want her. Well, he did now—but only in one way. And after he married Jill...
She placed a protective hand over her stomach and sighed. She had the baby. She knew that she was pregnant. She'd have the tests, but they really weren't necessary. Already she could feel the life inside her instinctively, and she wondered if the baby would look like her or like Simon.
There was a loud tap at the back door. She frowned. Most people rang the doorbell. It wasn't likely to be Charles and Nessa, and it was completely out of the question that it could be Simon. Perhaps a lost traveler?
She got up, milk shake in hand, and went to the back door, slipping the chain before she opened it.
Simon stared down at her with quiet, unreadable eyes. He had dark circles under his eyes and new lines in his face. "It's Christmas,"' he said. "Do I get to come in?"
He was wearing a suit and tie. He looked elegant, hardly a match for her today.
She shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said tautly. She looked pointedly past him to see if he was alone.
His jaw tautened. "Did you expect me to bring someone?"
"I thought Jill might be with you," she said.
He actually flinched.
She let out a long breath. "Sorry. Your private life is none of my business," she said as she closed the door.
When she turned around, it was to find his hand clenched hard at hiis side.
"Speaking of private lives, where's Charles?" he asked icily.
Sine stared at him blankly. "With Nessa, of course."
He scowled. "What's he still doing with her?"
"Gene died and Nessa needs Charles now more than ever." She frowned when he looked stunned. "Charles has been in love with Nessa for years. Gene tricked her into marrying him, hoping to inherit her father's real estate company. It went broke and he made Nessa his scapegoat. She wouldn't leave him because she knew he had a bad heart, and Charles almost went mad. Now that Gene's gone, they'll marry as soon as they can."
He looked puzzled. "You went home with him..."
"I went to his house to stay with Nessa, the night after Gene had died," she said flatly. "Charles said that it wouldn't look right for her to be there alone, and she wouldn't stay at her own house."
He averted his eyes. He couldn't look at her. Once again, it seemed, he'd gotten the whole thing upside down and made a mess of it.
"Why are you here?" she asked with some of her old hauteur. "In case you were wondering, I'm not going to shoot myself," she added sarcastically. "I'm through pining for you."
He shoved his hand into his pocket and glanced toward her, noticing her sock-clad feet and the milk shake in her hand. "What's that?" he asked suddenly.
"Lunch," she returned curtly.
His face changed. His eyes lifted to hers and he didn't miss her paleness or the way she quickly avoided meeting his searching gaze.
"No turkey and dressing?"
She shifted. "No appetite," she returned.
He lifted an eyebrow and his eyes began to twinkle as they dropped eloquently to her stomach. "Really?"
She threw the milk shake at him. He ducked, but it hit the kitchen cabinet in its plastic container and she groaned at the mess she was going to have to clean up later. Right now, though, it didn't matter.
"I hate you!" she raged. "You seduced me and then you ran like the yellow dog you are! You let Jill nurse you through headaches and spend Christmas Eve with you, and I hope you do marry her, you deserve each other, you... you...!"
She was sobbing by now, totally out of control, with tears streaming down her red face.
He drew her close to him and rocked her warmly, his hand smoothing her wild hair while she cried. "There, there," he whispered at her ear. "The first few months are hard, but it will get better. I'll buy you dill pickles and feed you ice cream and make dry toast and tea for you when you wake up in the morning feeling
queasy."
She stilled against him. "W...what?"
"My baby, you're almost certainly pregnant," he whispered huskily, holding her closer. "From the look of things, very, very pregnant, and I feel like dancing on the lawn!"
Chapter 10
One looked up at him with confusion, torn between breaking his neck and kissing him.
''Wh... what makes you think I'm pregnant?'' she asked haughtily.
He smiled lazily. "The milk shake."
She shifted. "It's barely been two weeks."
"Two long, lonely weeks," he said heavily. He touched her hair, her face, as if he'd ached for her as badly as she had for him. "I can't seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth."
She lowered her eyes to his tie. It was a nice tie, she thought absently, touching its silky red surface. "You had company."
He tilted her face up to his eyes. "Jill likes to hurt you, doesn't she?" he asked quietly. "Why are you so willing to believe everything she says? I've never had any inclination to marry her, in the past or now. And as for her nursing me through a headache, you, of all people, should know I don't get them, ever."
"She said...!"
“I came home from Austin miserable and alone and I got drunk for the first time since the wreck," he said flatly. "She got in past the doorman at the hotel and announced that she'd come to nurse me. I had her shown to the front door."
Her eyebrows arched. That wasn't what Jill had said.
His eyes searched over her wan face. "And you don't believe me, do you?" he asked with resignation. "I can't blame you. I've done nothing but make mistakes with you, from the very beginning. I've lived my whole life keeping to myself, keeping people at bay. I loved Melia, in my way, but even she was never allowed as close as you got. Especially," he added huskily, "in bed."
"I don't understand."
His fingers traced her full lower lip. "I never completely lost control with her," he said softly. "The first time with you, I went right over the edge. I hurt you because I couldn't hold anything back." He smiled gently. "You didn't realize, did you?"
“I don't know much about... that.''
"So I discovered." His jaw tautened as he looked at her. "Married but untouched."
Something niggled at the back of her mind, something he'd said about John. She couldn't remember it.
He bent and brushed his mouth gently over her forehead. "We have to get married," he whispered. "I want to bring our baby into the world under my name."
"Simon..."
He drew her close and his lips slid gently
over her half-open mouth. She could feel his heartbeat go wild the minute he touched her. His big body actually trembled.
She looked up at him with quiet curiosity, seeing the raging desire he wasn't bothering to conceal blazing in his eyes, and her whole body stilled.
"That's right," he murmured. "Take a good look. I've managed to hide it from you for years, but there's no need now."
"You wanted me, before?" she asked.
"I wanted you the first time I saw you," he said huskily. His lean hand moved from her neck down to the hard peak of her breast visible under the sweater, and he brushed over it with his fingers, watching her shiver. "You were the most gloriously beautiful creature I'd ever seen. But I was married and I imagined that it was nothing more than the sort of lust a man occasionally feels for a totally inappropriate sort of woman."
"You thought I was cheap."
"No. I thought you were experienced," he said, and there was regret in his eyes. "I threw you at John to save myself, without having the first idea what I was about to subject you to. I'm sorry, if it matters. I never used to think of myself as the sort of man to run from trouble, but I spent years running from you."
She lowered her gaze to his tie again. Her heart was racing. He'd never spoken to her this way in the past. She felt his hand in her hair, tangling in it as if he loved its very feel, and her eyes closed at the tenderness in the caress.
"I don't want to be vulnerable," he said through his teeth. “Not like this."
She let out a long sigh. She understood what he meant. "Neither did I, all those years ago," she said heavily. "Charles was kind to me. He knew how I felt about you, and he provided me with the same sort of camouflage I gave him for Nessa's sake. Everyone thought we were lovers."
"I suppose you know I thought you were experienced when I took you to bed?"
She nodded.
“Even when you cried out, the first time, I thought it was pleasure, not pain. I'll never forget how I felt when I realized how wrong I'd been about you." His hand tightened on her soft body unconsciously. "I know how bad it was. Are you...all right?"
"Yes."
He drew her forehead against him and held it there while he fought for the right words to heal some of the damage he'd done. His eyes closed as he bent over her. It was like coming home. He'd never known a feeling like it.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 198
