by Dani Wade
Willow nodded.
“And went under? Can you tell me what happened?”
She glanced at Tate, as if it made her uncomfortable that he was listening, then back down at the floor. “Everything was fine. But when I jerked up out of the water, I got a cramp.”
Had his unexpected arrival set that off?
“Can you show me where?” the doctor asked.
Willow placed her palm flat on her right side, then dragged it down and across her lower belly.
Tate could feel his every muscle tensing. Regardless of where, cramping wasn’t good. Was it? Even more surprising was the fact that he cared. Really cared. He didn’t know where the emotions were coming from, but he did know his brain thought this was a good reason to freak out.
“I see.” The doctor whispered something and Willow shook her head. Tate stepped closer.
Dr. D’Ambrosio leaned back. “Let’s go lie down in the living room, and I’ll take a peek. Would that be okay with you?”
Willow seemed to relax under his bedside manner. She’d been tense since Tate had yelled at her. No, tense wasn’t the right word. She was tight to the point of breaking.
It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so ugly to her, hadn’t let the high tension of his conflicting emotions get the better of him...
Dr. D’Ambrosio helped Willow up and guided her to the austere, old-fashioned couch in the living room.
“When did you find out you were pregnant?” he asked.
“I took the test last night, but I—” She lowered her eyelids while biting her lip.
“It’s okay,” he encouraged her. “Just tell me.”
Tate understood her hesitation but was anxious to get past the interrogation. “It was a surprise because she took the morning-after pill,” he said.
The doctor nodded and patted Willow’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”
Despite his advanced age, he returned fairly quickly with a chest-high machine on four wheels. The bottom was a slick white and gray cabinet attached to a wide support post. Above that there were drawers, then a shelf with a closed laptop. The whole setup easily rolled across the hardwood floor.
“What’s that?” Tate asked.
“An ultrasound machine. We’ll take a look and see what’s happening.” He smiled down at Willow. “It may be too early. Maybe not. Okay?”
“Is it safe? Will it work?” Willow asked, her voice sounding small.
“Very,” the doctor assured her. “And don’t worry. Whatever is happening with you should show up. I only use the best equipment there is.”
Tate moved around to stand near Willow’s head as Dr. D’Ambrosio got everything ready. He opened the laptop and the screen flickered to life.
“Handy,” Tate murmured, as impressed as he was surprised.
The doctor flashed him a grin, then focused on Willow. “Just relax. This won’t hurt at all.”
Dr. D’Ambrosio started rubbing Willow’s stomach with the wand in slow circles, smoothing the clear jelly across her skin. The image on the screen just looked like shades of gray to Tate. Some spots were darker, some lighter. There was nothing that looked like a child, even a tiny one.
Finally, Dr. D’Ambrosio paused. There was a darker circle on the screen now. Along the lower curve was a small flashing light. “See that?” he asked.
“Yes,” Willow whispered.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
Willow gasped. Tate stared. His own heartbeat sped up, almost as if it were trying to match the rapid pace of the blinking light.
“It’s too early to tell much,” Dr. D’Ambrosio was saying. “But this is a good sign. We’ll just monitor you both and see what happens.”
Tate wasn’t sure what other men felt when faced with the miracle of life, but he seemed to go numb. Everywhere except the beating of his heart. Even though they’d known since last night that Willow was actually pregnant, Tate felt like he’d been wrestling with nebulous what-ifs and his own assumptions.
The picture on that screen wasn’t simply an object. A whole host of implications weighed Tate down. Fear. Dismay. After all, he’d told himself he’d never have children. That his family should end with him.
But as he stared at that little blinking light, the endless possibilities sparked a flare of hope inside of him. A foreign sensation, to be sure. But just like the love he felt for Willow, he recognized it without having ever felt it before.
Only he didn’t know what the hell to do with either one.
The doctor swirled the wand around a little more, but Tate couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Then he turned off the machine and started cleaning up the leftover gel.
Just when the panic reached a crescendo inside him, and Tate knew he’d have to leave before he did something stupid, a chilled hand slipped into his. He glanced at the sofa, but Willow wasn’t looking at him. She watched the doctor intently as he finished, then helped her sit up. But her grip on Tate’s hand didn’t ease.
Tate found himself focusing in on her. How cold her fingers were. The slight tremble in her grip. The way she licked her lips and swallowed hard.
She’s nervous.
“Will the morning-after pill hurt the baby?” she finally asked.
Then Tate realized she wasn’t just nervous. She was scared. He could feel the same emotion creeping into the chaos inside him. Unsure what to do, he sat next to her. He didn’t put his arm around her. He wasn’t sure she’d want that. But he sat close enough to lend his warmth and adjusted his hold on her hand to encompass more of her fingers.
“I’m hoping everything will be fine,” Dr. D’Ambrosio said with a calm nod, “but we’ll keep a close eye on you, just in case.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle. “I want you to start on these prenatal vitamins. That will help with some of the fatigue.”
She nodded. “Why...” She licked her lips again. In that moment, Tate could only imagine how much worse her fear was than his. After all, she was the one it was happening to. He’d been focused solely on himself, how this would affect him. His demands were so selfish when viewed in that light. “What is the cramping all about?”
“Don’t you worry. From the position and the fact that you had the cramp while you were exercising, I believe its source is very simple.”
“What?” Tate demanded.
Dr. D’Ambrosio grinned. “Growing pains. As your belly expands, especially for the first time, your muscles have to adjust. Sometimes they don’t like that. You shouldn’t have to restrict your activities unless you have more severe problems. Simply rest when it happens and see if it goes away. If it doesn’t, call me. I want to make sure you stay healthy, and that the pregnancy stays viable. That could be trickier if it turns out to be twins.”
“What?” she and Tate almost yelled at the same time.
The older man grinned as if he found their shock amusing. “Well, there’s been a set in every Kingston generation, hasn’t there?”
Tate was stunned. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
As he packed up, Dr. D’Ambrosio added, “Congratulations to you both. I’ll check in next week unless you call me.”
Tate mumbled something as the doctor left, but he and Willow remained locked in place, hands clasped.
* * *
Willow woke to find herself in Tate’s bed. That was confusing because she was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep on the hard, uncomfortable couch downstairs as she lay there, desperately trying to process what had just happened. Tate hadn’t been joking that first night when he’d said the furniture downstairs wasn’t fit for sleeping. Or relaxing, even. She’d felt almost like she was on a real table in a doctor’s office while Dr. D’Ambrosio had done her ultrasound.
Ultrasound. Incredible. That tiny flashing speck had actually been a baby’s heartbeat?
Her hand wandered down to press against her lower stomach. How was she going to do this? She thought back to everything she’d seen Jasmine go through over the last year with Rosie. Rosie was adopted, so Jasmine hadn’t actually had to go through labor, but even without that the load had been heavy. What if Willow sucked at all of that stuff?
Without warning, she started to cry. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. Thankfully her weeping was silent. She was mortified that it was happening at all. She wasn’t a weepy sort of person. Then the bed shifted behind her and Willow realized she had an audience.
She pressed her face into the pillow, hoping to hide the reaction since she couldn’t seem to stop it.
“Willow, are you okay?”
“Are you?” she mumbled, hoping to turn the conversation away from her own inner turmoil.
“What I am doesn’t matter.”
That stopped her tears quick. She twisted to face him. He sat on the opposite side of the bed. The rain must have finally started, because the room was dark, even without the shutters pulled. Still she could see him very clearly in this light.
“Since when?”
“I just don’t figure the man has much say in these matters.”
She sat up, too, feeling at a disadvantage lying down. She tried to wipe the tears from her face as surreptitiously as possible, hoping the dimness would protect her just a touch. “I don’t know about other relationships, but in this one, you do. And I expect you to express an opinion...you know, when I ask for it.”
In the light of the single lamp across the room, she saw him grin. At least they could still sass each other during this very awkward conversation.
“So this is a relationship, huh?” he asked.
That wasn’t the question Willow had expected, but she refused to shy away from it. “Well, I thought that’s where we were heading, but if you’ve changed your mind, I fully understand.”
“No, Willow. I haven’t changed my mind.”
When she didn’t respond, he went on. “I realize I lost control for a little while there. And I can’t promise it won’t happen again. All of this—” he waved between the two of them “—is new to me. Some of it is...scary.”
“Even to renowned thriller author Adam Tate?”
“Yes, especially to him. I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day about why a man like me writes books like that, but the truth is, some of this will be scary. Please have patience with me.”
“Me, too.”
He raised a single brow.
“I’ve never done the relationship thing... At least, romantically.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Willow shook her head. “I’m very close with my family, so I do know some things about relationships. But I’ve never dated much...never long-term. And I have helped a lot with my sister’s adopted daughter, Rosie, so I’m not totally clueless about babies.”
Even if the thought of having a baby of her own was terrifying. Exhilarating, too, but the fear muted everything else for the moment. The thought of doing it all alone didn’t put her at ease, either. She didn’t think Tate was into being a hands-on dad.
“I’m glad one of us will know what we’re doing. You’ll have to teach me.”
Surprised, Willow stared.
Tate met her gaze for a moment, then turned away with an uncomfortable look on his face. “I’m warning you, I will probably completely suck as a father. But if nothing else, I’ll be there for monetary support.”
Uh, no. He’d already hinted at an interest in raising the child. She wasn’t going to let him back down now. “That’s not acceptable,” she informed him.
His gaze snapped back to hers. “What?”
“You are a smart, sensitive man. Creative. Imaginative. I expect you to put all of those traits to work for our baby. The last thing we need is your ancestors having the last word and the child turning out like them, right? I’d much prefer he or she turn out like you.”
Time seemed to freeze for a moment, then Tate gave a huff of laughter. “As I said, you’re incredible.”
“I’m just smart,” Willow said with a shrug.
In the blink of an eye, Tate was across the bed and using his weight to bear her back down to the mattress. “And sexy,” he growled as he buried his face into her neck.
Something had been bugging her since she woke up. Willow finally remembered what it was. “Tate, I really need to call my sisters.”
“There’s plenty of time for that,” he murmured against her.
He was completely focused on one thing, so she added, “Before the landline fails.”
“If you’re really nice, I’ll let you use my satellite phone.”
Even as she giggled, she reached to his side and pinched him.
“Ouch!” he said, jerking back a little. “That’s not nice!”
She gave him a big, cheesy smile. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Not if I sweeten you up first.”
“Not happening,” she teased, but had a feeling Tate would make her eat those words.
Easing her over, he started by removing her shirt and bra, then initiated long, steady strokes up and down her back. Just the right amount of pressure. Just the right speed. Willow felt like she was melting into the mattress.
Very few things had ever felt this good.
Then he started in on her arms, squeezing the muscles and massaging her hands. Her moans mingled with the sound of rain as it started to pelt the windows. He moved on to her legs after removing the rest of her clothes. Willow tried to lighten the mood before she completely lost her mind.
“Just for future reference,” she gasped, struggling to form words.
“Yes?” he asked, but he didn’t stop massaging her calves.
What was she saying? Oh, right. “Your talent in the bedroom makes up for a multitude of sins.”
Finally he covered her back, surprising her with his bare chest against her. He whispered in her ear, “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
He turned her over, so they were face-to-face, and continued his gentle, thorough attentions. Willow soaked up his touch. His intensity broke through any physical barriers to stroke her very soul. Any hesitation she’d felt to this point was immediately burned away.
By the time he joined them together, Willow was lost. There was nothing left standing between them. Naked in every way possible, Willow opened up to him. She lifted to meet his every stroke. Tate’s focus and intensity pushed her higher until she leaped over the edge without a second thought. His heavy thrusts and harsh cries sent her over again.
She resurfaced to the feel of his pounding heart beneath her palm and the knowledge that she’d never be the woman she’d been before. It was almost too much. Too raw.
Maybe for him, too. He rolled away, sprawling on the other side of the bed. To her surprise, he didn’t break their connection, though. His hand came to rest on her forearm and he didn’t pull it away. They lay for long moments, the only sound in the room their own harsh breathing.
Finally, desperate to break the silence, Willow teased, “I don’t remember any sex scenes in the Adam Tate books. Where’d you learn to do that?”
Tate grunted, not quite as recovered as she was. It took some time before he said, “I’m an author. I have a more vivid imagination than most.”
As she giggled, he rolled back to hug her close. For at least a few moments, everything was right in Willow’s world.
Sixteen
A bang, then muffled cursing woke Willow from her afternoon nap. Dr. D’Ambrosio had told her sleeping for a short while in the afternoons might help with the exhaustion. Luckily her employer had no complaints. After lunch, cleaning and a long three-way call with her sisters, Willow had lain down in her bedroom.
She still had to clean up some min
or debris on the front deck and remove the lower-level shutters from the windows, but otherwise, they’d had very little damage from the storm. Not that they would have noticed if the house had come down around them. She and Tate had spent most waking moments during the stormy weekend in bed together. “Bonding time,” he’d laughingly called it.
And she very much feared he’d created a bond she would never be able to break. This new, lighter side of Tate was a wonderful thing, beautiful and freeing. She knew better than to think the darker side had disappeared. She only hoped this happiness remained a part of him forever.
The room had gone silent again, but Willow could sense Tate’s presence. She opened her eyes to see him staring at the floor. “What is it?” she asked.
He bent down and didn’t come back up. The silence was too pervasive. After a few seconds, Willow sat up and stared at his back. “Tate? What’s wrong?”
He stood up, then dropped something flat on the bed. The ledger. As her stomach sank, Willow had a feeling playtime was now over.
Without a word, Tate opened the book and leafed through the first few pages. His expression remained impassive when she’d have given anything to know what he was thinking. Then again, when he spoke she wished he hadn’t.
“Is this another example of I’m more than an employee so I can go wherever I want?”
Ouch. But Willow couldn’t fault him for saying it.
As much as she didn’t think she was ready for this, there was no point in beating around the bush. “No, Tate. I found the keys you used to let the workmen upstairs.”
“And just made yourself at home?”
“No, that wasn’t—”
“What is this? Why would you want it?”
He flipped through the pages until he came to the one marked with a sticky note. Obviously those weren’t around at the time the ledger had been written, so... He glanced up at her before reading the page.
“I still don’t understand,” he said. “Why would something like this be of interest to you?” He read some more. “It’s just a contract for a random business transaction.”
