Her Secret, His Child

by Paula Detmer Riggs

  "I thought you were asleep," she whispered.

  "Not a chance," he said with a smile in his voice. "I was just working up the courage to ask you to stay with me tonight." He rubbed her shoulder with the flat of his hand, and she shivered.

  "Okay, but set the alarm for five," she said after thinking it through.

  "Now that sounds like something a man can look forward to." He sounded so boyishly eager that she laughed. "Don't get too excited. All I'm going to do is get up and go back to my own room."

  "So that you don't have to answer embarrassing questions?"

  "So that we both don't." She ran her hand over the contours of his chest. Finding the small silver medal, she touched it gingerly and asked, "Is this something special?"

  "St. Christopher's medal." He hesitated, then covered her hand with his. "Remember that boy in rehab I told you about?"

  "The surfer?"

  "His name was Franco. The medal was his. His father gave it to me after he died."

  She drew an unsteady breath. "I'm sorry."

  "So am I. But, simplistic as it sounds, I believe he's happier now."

  "It's not simplistic," she chided softly. "And I have the same feeling."

  She lifted her head, trying to see the expression in his eyes. He took advantage of her nearness to kiss her. It was a long, draining kiss that left her breathless.

  "No more questions, bright eyes. It's late, and since you insist on hauling your cute little tush out of here at the crack of dawn, I think we'd better get some sleep."

  Reluctantly she agreed and pulled out of his arms. "Grab Tilly's precious duvet while I set the clock," he ordered, switching on the light.

  She winced as the light blinded her for an instant. By the time the alarm was set, the light was out again and she was tucked up tight against him, she had quietly, inevitably, accepted the fact that she was indeed in love.

  * * *

  Carly heard the alarm and for a minute was disoriented. She usually woke to the sound of music on her clock radio. Still half asleep, she managed to shut off the annoying buzzing without waking Mitch.

  Accustomed to sleeping alone, she'd awakened several times in the night to find herself held tightly against him. He was a heavy sleeper, scarcely moving, his breathing deep and measured.

  Lying quietly in the hazy light of dawn, her face only inches from his, she watched him sleep. His face had become so dear to her, not only because the hard angles and strong bones were beautifully formed, but also because of the strength she saw there. Unable to resist, she gently smoothed the tumbled hair from his forehead, loving the soft coolness of the dusty blond thickness. No matter where they went from here, she'd had this one glorious night.

  Inching closer, she gently pressed her lips against his, and he frowned. His lashes fluttered, then slowly opened. Surprise surfaced first in the depths of his tawny eyes, then a smile slowly kindled, stirring her heart. "Thought I was dreaming," he murmured, his voice rusty.

  "It's five past five," she whispered. "I have to go."

  He drew his eyebrows together. "Kiss first," he ordered. He pulled her close and covered her mouth with his.

  When his blood started to heat, he reluctantly ended the kiss and let her go. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were soft with the same need he'd seen in his dreams. Hungrily he watched as she slipped from the bed and dressed hastily. After slipping into her shoes, she bent to kiss him one last time.

  "I'll see you later," she murmured, hating to leave.

  "Tonight," he ordered, hooking a strong arm around her neck and pulling her down for one last, lingering kiss that left them both flushed and breathless.

  "Tonight," she promised before slipping away, leaving him alone.

  Crooking an elbow, he slipped his hand under his head and closed his eyes. His body was sore, but he would trade a few aches and pains in private places to hold her again.

  Damn, he felt good, he thought, sighing heavily. His dream had been erotic and detailed, and his heart was still running a little fast. He smiled as he remembered a particularly steamy part, his mind playing over the details. Suddenly he realized that he'd been wearing his braces in the dream, and his stomach thudded. It was the first time since his injury that he'd seen himself as he was now in his dreams, rather than strong and whole, the way he wanted to be again.

  Slowly he drew a ragged breath. Until this moment he'd always harbored a secret belief that someday, somewhere, someone was going to come up with a miracle cure for his kind of paralysis. That hope had gotten him through some tough times.

  But now he had Carly, and maybe that was what his subconscious was trying to tell him. That maybe it didn't matter now that he was never going to move his legs again—not when he had his very special lady sleeping next to him.

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  Carly sat back and swiped her bedraggled bangs out of her eyes with the back of her wrist. She'd been working in her flower garden for almost two hours, and it was finally beginning to shape up. If she worked fast, she might even get the rest of the petunias into the ground before it got too dark to see clearly.

  Frowning, she studied the pattern of color. Something wasn't quite right. Maybe more white next to the purple and pink? "That should do it, don't you think, Tabby?" she said to the cat stretched out on the warm earth. Tabitha regarded her with bored green eyes before opening her little pink mouth in a huge yawn.

  "Thanks for that vote of confidence. Just for that, you can just move those lazy bones of yours so I can put these pretty flowers in the spot you kept all nice and warm for them."

  Lifting Tabitha to her lap, she took time to rub the cat's ears. Instantly a low rumbling purr broke the tranquil silence, and she laughed softly. "At least you didn't desert me tonight," she murmured, bending to rub her cheek against Tabitha's soft fur.

  It was Tilly's day off, and she had gone to Medford to visit her sister. Coach had talked Felicity into going out to dinner, and Tracy was working the four to twelve shift at the movie triplex in Bradenton Falls. As for Scanlon, she never knew when he would be home.

  He was scouting the local high schools, talking to the coaches about prospects other colleges might have passed by. It was a long shot, he'd explained to her and to Coach, but worth the time and trouble, especially if he came up with a talented kid or two.

  They'd made love twice more in the last week, once in the pool, once in his room. Remembering those times in his arms had her smiling at odd moments and forgetting her train of thought in meetings. Even Sandy had remarked on her absent-mindedness.

  "I'm in love, Tab, and I'm scared," she murmured to the little cat who blinked up at her with haughty indifference. Laughing softly, Carly rubbed Tabitha's belly, and the low rumbling purr intensified. "My conscience tells me I have to tell him the truth. Everything I believe in tells me I should. But it's so hard to know how to tell him. Or even when."

  Last night, when she'd been nestled against Mitch's warm broad chest and he'd once again mentioned the nagging feeling that they'd met before, she'd nearly blurted out the truth. Only uncertainty about his reaction had stopped her.

  "I'm afraid he'll hate me for not telling him about Tracy," she whispered into the cat's fur. "Or maybe I'm afraid he won't believe me. And what about Tracy, Tab? Should I tell her the truth, or shouldn't I?"

  Tabitha regarded her lazily, looking bored, and Carly sighed. "If only my life could be as uncomplicated as yours, Miss Pampered Cat," she said, giving the cat a final nuzzle before setting her aside.

  Carly was watering the last of the transplants when she heard the Jaguar pulling into the drive. Still on her hands and knees, she quickly gathered her gardening implements and stowed them in her tool caddy.

  She glanced over her shoulder and waited until he was closer before smiling a welcome. It was obvious from his expression that he was surprised to see her.

  "So you're the one who's into flowers," he said, glancing around meaningfully. "I wondered
."

  "I call it my hobby, but I suspect it's more in the nature of therapy. Working in the dirt tends to ground me."

  "Sounds dangerous to me." He stopped at the edge of the walk and squared his shoulders. To relieve the tension in his overworked arms and back, she suspected. "Got a minute for a tired coach?" he asked when she scrambled to her feet.

  "Only if he doesn't have a problem he needs solved immediately." She wiped the dirt from her hands and shoved them into the oversize pockets of her khaki gardening shorts.

  He smiled then, but the tired look around his eyes remained. "Sounds like you've had your quota of problems for today."

  "And then some. How about you? Find any hot recruits?"

  "One. Kid named Henry Williams. He and a bunch of other guys were playing pickup basketball on the courts behind the student union when I stopped for coffee. He's got the perfect build for a quarterback."

  "But Ian's our quarterback."

  "Ian's graduating in another year. Williams is a freshman, although he looks older."

  "He is. Henry's one of the boys from the 'Youth at Risk' program. He spent last year at McLaren."

  "What's that?"

  "Juvenile hall. He belonged to a gang in Portland and got mixed up in a shooting, although he was only charged as an accessory."

  He looked thoughtful. "Any reason why he can't go out for the team?"

  "None that I know of. Is he interested?"

  His mouth slanted. "Yeah, he's interested. Turns out he's a big fan of the Jacks."

  She pushed back her hair. "Most folks are around here."

  "That's why I figured an exhibition game between the Jacks and the Wolves might draw a pretty good crowd. I called in a few favors and arranged for some of the guys from Portland to drop around for a pick-up scrimmage before the season starts. We settled on the first Saturday in September."

  Carly felt her excitement growing. "The NFL Lumberjacks?"

  "Right." The barest hint of a smile tugged at his mouth.

  "The same Portland Jacks that went to the Super Bowl last year?" She knew she sounded incredulous and she didn't care. This was almost too good to be believed.

  "Seems to me someone told me that not too long ago, yeah."

  She choked back a laugh. "How … what favors?"

  "Actually, it was more like blackmail. I just reminded J.C. Cobb of how good I used to make him look, and how if I hadn't, he wouldn't be coaching those same Jacks. It took him a while, but he finally admitted that I was right."

  She drew a quick breath, but what she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and hug the dickens out of him. "I can't believe it. The Jacks."

  "Not all of them," he hastened to remind her. "Just the guys who hadn't already made other commitments. Mostly rookies and second-string guys."

  She bit her lip, a list of things to be done already started in her head. "I'd better call Marca first. We'll need massive publicity and special tickets. Maybe some of those T-shirts she's so high on."

  "Whoa, hold on. I had to do some horse trading for this deal, and I thought I'd better check with you first before things got out of hand."

  "What kind of horse trading?"

  "Since the guys don't get paid extra for this kind of thing, J.C. and I came up with the idea of making it a benefit for the Jacks' scholarship fund. We donate all the proceeds from the ticket sales in return for the players' services."

  She felt a pang of disappointment before shrugging it away. "That seems fair. After all, the purpose is really to inspire our players and get some publicity for the team."

  She felt Tabby's warm body rubbing against her ankle and glanced down. The fat cat's bushy tail waved in the air like a plume, the tip jerking back and forth.

  "Go catch a mouse," she muttered, drawing an impudent meow from Tabitha and a startled look from Scanlon.

  One side of his mouth moved. "Hey, wait a minute. You're talking to my roommate. I'm not crazy about waking up to find she's brought a dead body to bed."

  Carly blinked. "So that's where she's been. I wondered why she hadn't been sneaking into my room lately."

  "She followed me in three nights ago and wouldn't leave. I woke up in the middle of the night with her draped around my neck and damn near threw her across the room before I figured out I wasn't being strangled in my sleep. Now she sits by the door and waits for me to come home. She looks so pathetic that I haven't been able to turn her away."

  Carly laughed. "I know what you mean. She's a cuddler from way back. Comes from being separated from her mother too soon, or at least that's what Tilly claims. We found her on our doorstep one morning, and she's been ruling our lives ever since."

  Carly pulled her hands from her pockets and bent down to rub the cat's ears. The security lights had yet to be turned on. The light from the terrace was too distant to provide much more than a faint glow, but it was enough to enable her to see the smug look in Tabby's eyes.

  "Spoiled, aren't you?" Carly murmured, straightening. As though aware they were discussing her, Tabby sashayed between them, stepping daintily over Scanlon's size twelves before rubbing against the backs of his legs.

  "If she bothers you, just throw her out," Carly murmured. "She's used to it."

  "I'll keep that in mind. Right now we have an understanding. She keeps my neck warm, and I sneak treats in for her every night."

  She glanced up and found him watching her with a brooding look in those dark eyes. The teasing comment she'd been about to make vanished, her thoughts scattering like so many fallen petals. Even though he hadn't moved, even though they were nearly an arm's length apart, she felt as though she was being slowly seduced.

  "I … this is certainly good news. About the Jacks."

  "There's one more thing," he said, forcing his mind off the memory of her soft body curled into his and on to the reason he was in her life at all.

  "What's that?"

  "I agreed to TV coverage by one of the Portland stations. Seems they cover all the preseason games before hooking into the usual network coverage."

  She moved toward him. "TV? That's fantastic! How much will they pay, do you think?"

  "Not a lot. It's local, remember?"

  "You're right. For a minute I got so excited I forgot."

  Mitch was suddenly aware of a soft quality to the air and the quiet that seemed to wrap around them. Freeing a hand, he smoothed her hair. She smelled like the flowers she'd been planting, and there was a smudge of dirt on her chin.

  "Someone from the Jacks organization will be contacting Marca tomorrow or the next day, unless you'd rather he called you directly."

  "No, Marca's the expert, but I'll let her know they'll be calling."

  Backlit by the glow from the porch, her face seemed more lovely than ever. But it was her soft pale lips that drew his attention.

  "Don't I get a kiss for being such a good boy, bright eyes?"

  "One thing you are not, and that's a boy." She let her gaze linger on those wide shoulders for a beat longer than courtesy demanded and felt desire stir to life in secret places.

  "Can we try for good?" Very slowly, he bent his head toward her and heard her breath hitch. Covering her mouth with his, he luxuriated in the softness of her lips and the warmth of her breath on his face. Need rushed through him like a drug suddenly shot into his veins. He swayed, then found his balance and pressed a hand to the small of her back, steadying them both.

  "Gardening must be hot work," he murmured, kissing a smudge of dirt on her cheek.

  "Oh, it is," she murmured, shivering. "Very." Drawing back, she smoothed a finger down the shallow crease in his cheek before allowing herself the pleasure of tracing his lower lip with that same fingertip. "Recruiting must be hot work, as well," she murmured, loving the sudden glint of need in his eyes.

  "Sweaty, too," he agreed, then groaned as she pressed closer. "How about a swim?" he managed to get out between kisses.

  "Sounds wonderful," she answered a little breathl
essly. "Especially since no one else is home."

  Mitch allowed himself one last kiss before drawing back. Unfortunately Tabby chose that moment to come between them. Startled, Carly moved, and, caught by surprise, he felt his balance shift and tightened his grip to keep her from falling. Somehow, though, her feet tangled with one of his crutches, and the two of them went down together.

  Mitch lost his crutches, one of which hit Tabby on the head, and the indignant cat yowled and took off running. Carly landed on top of Mitch, her hands still on his shoulders. "Talk about a passion killer," he muttered, and she pressed her face against his chest to keep from laughing.

  "Are you okay?" he muttered, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, where she saw a quick flash of anguish before the shutters came down.

  "I'm fine," she murmured, a little breathless. "How about you?"

  His mouth slanted. "I'm okay, but you'd better worry about that cat, 'cause I'm going to kill her as soon as I get myself out of this damn flower bed." She recognized a frazzled ego when she heard it, and she burst out laughing.

  "Not if I beat you to it," she vowed shakily.

  "We'll both do it, only you'll have to catch her," he said, rolling her to her back. She started to push him away, then realized that he'd angled himself so that he was lying next to her, not atop.

  "It's a deal," she managed to murmur before his mouth covered hers again. His kiss was demanding, eager, his hands pushing into her hair, holding her as he kissed her again and again, each kiss more draining, more arousing, until she was aware only of the delicious sensations tumbling through her. Moaning helplessly, she opened her mouth to him, wringing a harsh groan from his throat as his tongue slipped inside, tentative at first, then hot and insistent.

  Her hands kneaded his back, thrilled with the feel of hard muscle through the thin shirt, loving the sense of power and strength she felt there. Warmth spread over her skin as his mouth began a sensuous exploration of her throat, his breath hot and moist and arousing.

  "Sweet Caroline," he murmured against her ear. "My shy little temptress."

  Scanlon, my love, she thought, nearly mindless with swirling, consuming pleasure. The pain he'd caused her was forgotten, submerged in sweet desire. The last of her reservations slipped away, and she gave herself into his hands, lost in the orgy of new sensations.