Searching for Cate

by Marie Ferrarella

  “What do you mean?” Christian asked, a wary edge to his voice.

  “She’d told you about the pregnancy and didn’t want you saying anything to Lukas.”

  “Yes, why?” The wary tone remained.

  She shrugged. “There were times when the two of you would exchange looks and I thought that maybe…”

  “That maybe what?” He spared her one glance before turning back to the road. She could see that he didn’t care for what she’d left unspoken. That made two of them. Which was why she realized she was so relieved to find out that this was about keeping a pregnancy secret rather than an affair.

  “That I was bedding my brother’s wife?” Even saying it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Is that what you think of me?”

  “I wasn’t sure what to think,” she told him honestly. After all, she hadn’t known him all that long. And yet there was a part of her that felt she had known him a long time. There were things about him that just jibed with her soul. Timeless. “But that was a pretty tough situation she put you in.”

  “She had her reasons.”

  And her reasons had put him in hot water with his brother. A smile curved her mouth as she regarded him. “You’re pretty loyal, aren’t you?”

  He slowed down at the next light. It had turned yellow, then quickly went to red. He stopped just in time. “Family is all there is.”

  “When you have one.”

  “You had one, Cate,” he reminded her, stepping on the accelerator again. “Seems to me they loved you a great deal.” Her father had gone to great lengths to keep her from finding out that she was adopted because he hadn’t wanted to risk losing her. That spelled love in his book. “Sometimes love makes you do stupid things because you’re afraid of losing that love.”

  There was something in his voice that caught her attention. “You speak from experience?”

  “Maybe.” But it wasn’t something he was about to go into with her. Not yet, perhaps not ever. There had to be more between them before then. He slanted a look toward her. “Would you like to come over?”

  She knew what he was asking. Knew all along, no matter how she tried to tell herself otherwise, what her answer would be.

  Because she’d been hoping for this from the moment he’d asked her to fly to the reservation with him.

  “Yes.”

  The house was too quiet.

  The silence was driving Lydia crazy. Lukas hadn’t said a single word to her since they’d left his mother’s house, no matter how hard she’d tried to get him to talk.

  As he turned toward the staircase, she all but threw herself in front of him, blocking his path. When Lukas began to turn away, she grabbed his wrist and forced him to face her.

  “Talk to me, Luke,” she half pleaded, half demanded. “I can’t take this silent treatment much longer.”

  That was when he finally looked at her. She’d never seen his eyes look like thunder before. “Talk to you? Why should I talk to you? You wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “What are you talking about? I always talk to you—”

  “Not about the baby,” he shot back.

  She blew out a shaky breath. “Please understand. I just needed a little more time.”

  It didn’t make sense to him. “Why, Lyd? Why did you need more time? And how could you keep this from me? I’m your husband. It’s my baby, too. I had a right to know, a right to enjoy it from the very first minute you were sure.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to hold back tears that were suddenly pressing so hard against her lids. It was a sign of weakness. She didn’t want to cry.

  She did her best to make him understand. “Because if I told you, you’d have the same objections that Christian had tonight. You wouldn’t want me to go to the Ukraine. You wouldn’t want me to follow this case through.”

  He set his jaw hard, staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. And maybe, in a way, he hadn’t, he thought sadly. Maybe he’d been blind before. He never put her second. But she had done that to him. “And is the case more important than us?”

  “No, but—” Lydia sighed, then tried another approach. “I need to tell you about Susan and then maybe you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

  He was angry and he wanted to remain angry. But he loved her, really loved her, and if there was something she could say to subdue the anger, the pure hurt he now felt inside, he was willing to hear her out.

  “All right,” he said, sitting down on the bottom step, “tell me about Susan.”

  She sat down beside him and told him about her cousin. Told him about the promise she’d made to herself when this case began to evolve the way it did. She left out nothing.

  “I can’t help it, this case means a great deal to me. And these girls are so young, Lukas. You should see Katya—” Tears rose in her eyes again. “They need someone to fight for them. They have no one.”

  “No, not no one,” he told her quietly. With his thumb, he brushed away the tears that had leaked down her cheeks. “They have you.”

  She swallowed, afraid that she’d somehow misunderstood. “Then it’s all right with you?”

  “No,” he told her honestly, “it’s not all right with me.” If he had his way, he’d keep her beside him, under lock and key. But then she wouldn’t be the woman he’d fallen in love with. She wouldn’t be Lydia. “But you need to do what you need to do.” He framed her face in his hands, worried already. “Just promise me, you won’t take any undue risks.”

  She raised her hand. “I promise. Only ‘due ones.’” God, but she loved this man. “I’ll only be gone a few days. Just long enough to bring Baker in. Sullivan’s already working on getting the State Department to fire Baker if this checks out.” And then her smile softened. “You’re wonderful, Lukas.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” The import of the earlier discovery was just now sinking in. Extreme pleasure washed over him. He could hardly believe it. “So, pregnant, huh?”

  She grinned. “Yup.”

  He rose to his feet, taking her hand in his. “Would you like to celebrate?”

  “With all my heart.” She threaded her arms around his neck as he lifted her up into his arms. “I like it a lot better when we agree.” She buried her face in his neck.

  He kissed her hair softly, then began to go up the stairs. “Yeah, me, too.”

  Chapter 32

  This time, there was no pretense, no need to make excuses to Christian or to herself as to why she was in his apartment or what the rest of the evening would hold. She felt as if it had been building up to this from the moment he’d come to pick her up for the unexpected trip to meet his family.

  “Why did you bring me there?” As he shut the door behind her, she asked him the question that had been hovering in her mind ever since he’d called earlier to see if she was interested in going. She hadn’t wanted to ask him before for fear that the invitation would be withdrawn. “To your mother’s house,” she added when he made no response.

  “It’s mine, too,” he told her quietly. He felt as if his gut was tightening into a knot, just looking at her. There was no point in pretending. He wanted her. More now than the first time. Because then there’d been curiosity involved. Now there was only knowledge. And desire. “Mine and Lukas’s, or so Mom says. Just because we’ve moved here doesn’t mean that’s still not home.”

  Why did he refrain from telling her things? Was he afraid they’d become too close if he did? She pushed, but only a little, leaving him space. “That still doesn’t answer the question.”

  “No,” he agreed. He adjusted the lights, turning them lower. “It doesn’t.” Christian turned to face her, his eyes drawing her in. “Does every question have to have an answer?”

  A stubborn glint came into her eyes at the same time her mouth curved. He could feel her smile moving him. “I’d like it to. Unless the conversation’s about Einstein’s theory of relativity,” she said flippantly, “in which case—”

  “In which case,” C
hristian pronounced, slipping her coat off her shoulders and down her arms as he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to the side of her neck, “you talk too much.”

  “It only seems that way because you’re so quiet.” Freed of her coat, she turned around to face him. Her limbs already felt heavy, as if she were drugged while, in contrast, her pulse raced wildly. Anticipating. Her eyes searched his face, looking for a clue, for a sign. “What are you thinking about?”

  Only a hint of humor entered his eyes. “That you talk too much.”

  “What else?” she prodded, her breath whispering along his face.

  He could feel his body warming. Yearning. “That I want to make love with you. That I’ve wanted to all evening.” His breathing grew shorter as his desire lengthened. “That I’m sinking into quicksand when I promised myself never to do it again.”

  Cate was positive her heart had just leaped up into her throat. But if that was true, how could she still speak?

  “It’s not quicksand,” she told him. Her eyes held his for a long moment, even as she felt his hands beginning to roam over her, probing, touching, causing her pulse to feel as if it was in danger of breaking the sound barrier. “I won’t let you go under.”

  The promise almost made him smile. “It could already be too late.”

  Even as he said it, he thought that it was. Because there were things happening inside of him, feelings being stirred, feelings that had very little to do with sex and everything to do with the coming together and sealing of two souls.

  Cate leaned into him. “Pessimist,” she teased, her lips grazing his just lightly enough to arouse him. She could feel his need pressing against her. Felt her own mounting even before her skirt and blouse had left her body and found the floor.

  Her heart hammered against his fingertips as he removed her bra. He filed his hands with her breasts, sealed his mouth to hers. Their breaths and desires mingled, merged.

  Feeling shaky, needing to anchor herself to something before she found herself sinking to the floor, she wrapped her fingertips around his biceps. They felt like rocks. She held on to them as best she could while she pressed her mouth against his for all she was worth. Drinking in the life-sustaining passion she found there.

  Her head spun. Her fingers tightened on his arms. A fire broke loose in her belly, feeding the craving that was taking hold of her.

  She found herself being moved back. Step by step. Christian kept moving forward, his mouth assaulting hers, his hands traveling up and down her body, reducing everything he touched to a consistency of warm Jell-O until he had her back flat against the wall with no room for escape.

  As if she wanted it.

  The wall felt cool against her naked back. His body felt hot against the rest of her.

  And all the while, she was aware of an eagerness inside of her, an eagerness that only kept building, doubling, until she felt it would burst out of her pores.

  Her head spinning almost dangerously now, Cate worked his clothing loose, taking buttons out of their holes, tugging at zippers and buckles, until she had finally gotten rid of the barriers of material that kept him from her.

  She ran her hands over him as if she’d never touched a man before, never felt that wild surge through her veins that only intimacy brought.

  His skin was hot as it moved against hers and she felt her own flesh sizzle. She could swear that it felt even hotter on the inside than it did to the touch. Anticipation was responsible for that. Anticipation at what was to come.

  At least, she thought she anticipated it. And yet, when it began, she found that she was unprepared for the onslaught that followed. Unprepared for the siege that he lay to her body.

  Christian pushed her against his sofa, easing her fall with his arm tucked under her.

  His mouth roamed over her face, her neck, her breasts, claiming each place he passed, making it his own. Making her his own.

  She twisted and turned against him, eager to have him anoint her everywhere. Eager to have the flames grow even higher as his lips and tongue teased, suckled, moistening that which was already moist.

  And then, somewhere amid the haze that had claimed her brain, she realized that she was being only the recipient, not the instigator. It went against everything she had ever believed herself to be. Summoning energy from some far-off recessed place, she pulled herself together, determined to return the favor. Or the exquisite torture.

  He was unprepared for it.

  She could tell the moment she began. The look in his eyes gave him away. Seeing it gave her a sense of power as well as delight. Fortified, she forged a trail along his torso with her hands, with her mouth, and delighted in the response she felt. When he moaned, she thought she was going to explode.

  Unable to hold back any further, she splayed her body over his, positioning herself so that his entry would be almost effortless.

  Damn but she was more than a handful, he thought. More than he had bargained for. The thought sent rays of sunshine through him, giving light to the dark.

  His eyes on hers, filled with desire and wonder, Christian thrust himself into her.

  The climax that came, seizing them both in its grip, was more intense than anything they’d experienced with each other so far. It absorbed more of them than it had before. And brought with it a sense of overwhelming awe.

  He could feel her heart slamming against his as she spiraled up with him, reaching.

  Reaching.

  And then they were floating down again. And paradise was a memory.

  His arms closed more tightly around her during the descent than the ascent. Because before it had been due to passion, but now it was because of the tenderness that was washing over him. He realized that he liked holding her like this, liked feeling their hearts linked.

  The strings he claimed were not there, the strings he wanted to resist more than anything in this world, tightened around him.

  He didn’t care.

  Maybe later he would, when energy returned, bringing with it baggage filled with remorse and other useless emotions. But not yet. Not yet.

  Cate raised her head, a slightly dazed, bemused expression on her face. She rested her head on the hand she had pressed against his chest. Her eyes were on his.

  “So, you think the Angels have a chance at the pennant next season?”

  He didn’t know about the Angels, but he was beginning to wonder if he did. With a laugh, he cupped the back of her head with his hand and caught her mouth with his own. Her lips still tasted sweet, even blurred with the imprint of his.

  He grinned at her when it was over. “I don’t really follow baseball.”

  “Too bad.” Did she seem as breathless as she felt? To her ear, she sounded like an unseasoned runner who had just attempted a five-mile run. “Everyone should have a sport to call their own.”

  One side of his mouth rose in a half smile. “This yours?”

  He saw her eyes darken. Had he insulted her? He hadn’t meant it that way.

  “I told you,” she said, “I don’t do this kind of thing on a regular basis.”

  “I didn’t mean to insinuate that.” And then he paused before asking, “Why me?”

  For a moment, she only looked at him. And then a smile came to her lips. He thought it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Now who’s asking questions?”

  “Why me?” he repeated, needing to know.

  Chemistry, attraction, they were all good words, but that’s all they were. Words. And there was something more at play here.

  “I don’t know,” she told him honestly. “Maybe because something in your soul talked to mine.”

  She’d said the wrong thing. Or maybe the right thing, she amended, because the look in his eyes changed instantly. He released her and fell back against the sofa. She didn’t know whether to curl up beside him, or get up and get dressed.

  The question answered itself as she felt his arm close around her. Drawing her to him, to his warmth. “I was married on
ce.”

  “I know.” Her words were slow, measured, as if she was feeling her way around. “Lydia told me.”

  He tucked his other hand under his head, looking at the ceiling. Looking at the past. “What else did Lydia tell you?”

  “Nothing. She said it was your story to tell.”

  “No,” he answered quietly. “It was Alma’s.”

  She waited a beat before asking. “Was that your wife’s name?”

  “Yes.” He glanced at her beside him. “It means soul.”

  She nodded, an almost shy smile gracing her lips. “I know. I took Spanish in high school.”

  He looked back up toward the ceiling again, not seeing it.

  “I thought she took mine when she died.” And then, abruptly, he rose up on his elbow and looked down at Cate. He felt as if he was standing on the very edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss. Wondering if he was going to fall. “Alma killed herself. And she killed our daughter.”

  Shock waves resonated through her. For a second, Cate forgot to breathe.

  Chapter 33

  The horror of what he must have had to endure slammed into her with the force of a Mack truck. Cate sat up and stared at him in disbelief.

  “Oh, God, Christian, I am so sorry. What happened?” The question rose to her lips before she could stop it. She had no right to pry into his pain, even if she hoped to ease it. She was quick to try to erase her words. “No, wait. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  He realized that he wanted to tell her, to let her into the dark part of his life that he normally didn’t share. He didn’t explore why. Alma’s death wasn’t something that he talked about. Not with someone outside his own family. He doubted if any of the people he worked with at Blair Memorial knew very much about his past, other than his record as a physician. Certainly not this.

  He took a deep breath and released it.

  “I’d known Alma all of my life. She was beautiful, bright, but she had these demons….” His voice trailed off for a moment and Cate thought he’d decided against saying anything further. But then he continued. “Demons she couldn’t conquer and I couldn’t help her with.”