The Tender Trap

by Beverly Barton

  Two

  “Mr. Wyatt, there’s a Ms. Blythe Elliott here to see you sir.” Sandra Pennington’s voice sounded a bit shaky, and that was unusual for the formidable middle-aged woman who’d been Adam’s secretary for the past ten years. “She insists on seeing you immediately.”

  Blythe Elliott? Here? At his office? Insisting on seeing him? Would wonders never cease?

  Adam’s stomach tightened into knots. What was she do ing here? They hadn’t been together in over two months—not since the night they’d both lost their senses and made love like a couple of wild animals who couldn’t get enough of each other.

  Just the memory of that night aroused Adam. And the last thing he wanted was to get hot and bothered remem bering what it had been like becoming Blythe’s first lover Damn, he’d thought she was experienced, and he’d gotten the surprise of his life.

  When he’d awakened the next morning, Blythe was gone only the scent of her remained in his bed. He’d tried calling her. She’d hung up on him time and time again. He’d gone to her apartment. She’d slammed the door in his face. He’d cornered her at her Petals Plus florist, only to be told that she hated him and never wanted to see him again.

  It had taken him more than one try before he finally got the picture. Whatever had happened between them the night of little Melissa Simpson’s christening had been an aberration, a fluke, a chance happening. Adam had accepted that fact and moved on with his life. At least he’d tried to move on. He had wined and dined several lovely ladies over the last two months, but every time the mood turned serious, he’d see a pair of big hazel eyes looking up at him, he’d hear those sweet little sounds of pleasure Blythe had made when he’d taken her, and he’d feel those small, fragile bones, that soft, sleek freckled flesh he’d caressed the whole night through.

  “Tell Ms. Elliott to come in.”

  Should he stand? Should he remain seated? Should he be friendly or act nonchalant? Should he ask why she was paying him a visit or just say it was good to see her?

  Remaining seated, he leaned over his desk and rested his clasped hands in front of him.

  She swept into the office like a tiny whirlwind, her straw bag clutched to her side, her chin tilted defiantly, her gaze riveted directly to his face.

  Whatever her reason for coming to his office, Adam’s gut instincts told him this was no social call. It was a confrontation.

  Blythe looked even prettier than he remembered. Her short cinnamon red hair shone with a healthy vibrance. Her skin had tanned a rich gold, her freckles darkened to muted copper dots on her nose, cheeks and shoulders. She wore a yellow miniskirt, a matching peach-and-yellow polka-dot blouse and a pair of small gold hoops in her ears.

  “If I’m interrupting something, I apologize,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

  “Sit down, Blythe. Tell me why you’re here.” Of all the women he’d known over the years, why was this little hellion the only one he’d been unable to walk away from and forget? Because she’d been a virgin? Because he’d carelessly forgotten to use protection the first time they’d made love?

  She sat tensely on the edge of the white leather-and-chrome chair to the left of Adam’s huge, black metal desk. Easing her purse into her lap, she clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

  “Would you like some coffee? Or tea? A soft drink?” What was wrong with her? he wondered. Why was she so nervous?

  “No, nothing. Tanks.”

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “I’ve been just fine. How about you?”

  “No complaints,” he said. “Look, it isn’t that I’m not glad to see you, but your visit comes as quite a surprise. Two months ago, you refused to see me. You wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone. I have to admit that I’m curious as to why you’re here today.”

  Oh, this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought. Adam was being nice. Not too nice, but nice enough. After the way she’d treated him, he had every right not to speak to her. But what should she have done? Good grief, they had made a monumental mistake—the biggest mistake of her life. She still didn’t know what had come over her that evening at Adam’s condo. Why, after resisting temptation for two years, had she given in that night? One minute they’d been arguing and she’d dislikes everything his powerful, macho image represented and the next thing she knew she was practically begging him to make love to her. One minute she’d wanted to run from him, and the next minute she couldn’t get close enough.

  “I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible.” Blythe lowered her eyes, not able to continue looking directly at Adam. “It was my fault. I should have known better.” She stood up. Her purse fell to the floor. “I did know better, but I’d never felt anything so powerful before. I just didn’t know how to handle wanting someone so much.”

  Adam shoved back his chair and stood. “Why should we rehash that night now, after two months, when you’ve refused to see me or speak to me before today?”

  Bending over, she picked up her bag and flung it in the chair she’d just vacated, then turned to face him. He seemed so distant, so in control, so much the Adam Wyatt she’d known and avoided for two years. “I’m not here to discuss what happened a couple of months ago. Well, in a way, I am. That is to say, the reason I’m here is to tell you that, well, after we... after we—”

  “Made love,” Adam said.

  “Yes, after we made love, I knew you would regret it as much as I did, and I realized that you’d feel responsible, even guilty because I’d been a... well, I’d been—”

  “The word is virgin, babe. You were a virgin.”

  “Yes, well, I felt there was no point in our blaming ourselves for something that wasn’t your fault or mine. It just happened.”

  “It happened three times.” The statement was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from speaking. Damn! What was the point of reminding her? Of reminding himself?

  Blythe covered her face with her hands. Blowing out a loud breath, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. “This isn’t easy for me. Okay? It’s taken all the courage I could muster to come here today to tell you.”

  “To tell me what?” he asked. “That you don’t blame me for our night of passion two months ago?”

  “No, I don’t blame you. I blame myself.” Blythe balled her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t expect you to do anything. And I’m not asking for anything. I just thought you had a right to know.”

  Adam glared at her, not quite sure what the hell she was talking about, but getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You thought I had a right to know what?”

  “I’m pregnant!” There, she’d said it. The worst was over. Or so she thought.

  “You’re what?”

  Adam rounded his desk so quickly that Blythe didn’t have a chance to get away from him before he grabbed her by the shoulders, his fierce grip jerking her forward. He stared at her. Her eyes opened wide as she bit down on her bottom lip.

  “You’re what?” he repeated.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  She was pregnant! No, it wasn’t possible. Who was he kidding? Of course it was possible.

  He ran his hands down her arms, clasping her wrists with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Blythe. I never meant for this to happen.”

  She shrugged, tilting her head to one side, a tentative smile quivering on her lips. “I know. I told you that I don’t blame you.”

  “You should!” Releasing his hold on her, he turned away, slamming his big fists down on top of his desk. “In all the years since my divorce, I’ve never made love to a woman without using protection. Not once. Not until that night. With you. The first time.”

  “I didn’t use anything, either,” Blythe said, wanting to touch Adam’s back, waiting to reach out and place her hand on his massive shoulders. “I mean, I wasn’t on the Pill or anything.”

  Lifting his clenched fists, he turned and braced his hip on the e
dge of the desk. “Well, we can’t go back and change what happened. God knows I would if I could. We’ve got to deal with the consequences, to make decisions about how we’re going to handle this situation.”

  Blythe didn’t know what she had expected him to say when she told him. Deny that he was the father? Tell her it was her problem? Or had she secretly hoped he’d be happy, that he’d lift her in his arms, kiss her and tell her he loved her and wanted their child?

  But Adam didn’t love her any more than she loved him. If he could go back and change what had happened, he would. He’d just said so himself. And if she could go back to that night, what would she do? Unconsciously, she slid her hand down the front of her skirt, her open palm crovering her stomach.

  “I suppose you’ve considered all the options,” Adam said. Dear God, what would he do if she said she planned to have an abortion? He’d tell her she couldn’t, that he didn’t want her to destroy the child they had created together.

  “Yes, I discussed options with my doctor and with Joy.”

  “You told Joy? She and Craig know?”

  “I told Joy yesterday. She’s the one who convinced me to come here today and tell you. She promised not to say anything to Craig until after I’d talked to you.”

  “Have you made a decision?” He knew he had already made a decision about the baby. It didn’t require any lengthy soul-searching. He’d gotten Blythe pregnant. She was carrying his child. He’d marry her. That was the only honorable thing to do.

  “I decided against having an abortion.”

  Relief spread through Adam. His tight muscles relaxed. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”

  Closing her eyes, Blythe said a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t expected her to dispose of their mistake.

  “My doctor and I discussed the possibility of giving the baby up for adoption.” Dr. Meyers had tried to discuss adoption with her, but she’d adamantly refused. She had no intention of giving away her child.

  Would she give his child to perfect strangers? Dammit, he wouldn’t let her! If Adam had to, he’d do as his father had done and raise the child by himself. “Adoption? Don’t even consider giving away my child.”

  “I didn’t consider it. Not really. I’m going to have my baby and I’m going to keep her.” Blythe had decided that the baby was a girl. She couldn’t imagine herself raising a boy—some rough and rowdy little black-eyed boy who’d grow up to look just like Adam.

  Adam let out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re going to keep the baby?”

  “I came here to tell you because Joy pointed out the fact that, as the father, you did have a right to know.” Glancing away from Adam, Blythe reached into the chair and picked up her purse. “I don’t expect you to get involved. I’m not here asking for any kind of support.”

  “Just what are you trying to say?” Standing, he grabbed her by the arm as she turned from him. “You waltz in here and tell me that you’re going to have my child, but you don’t expect me to get involved. Well, babe, you’d better think again. That’s my baby, too.” He looked directly at Blythe’s flat stomach, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her, to lay a protective hand over his child.

  “You want to be involved?” She stared at him, not sure she had heard him correctly.

  “Damn right, I do.”

  “How is that possible, Adam? I don’t think there’s any way you and I can share a child.”

  “Well, we’d better figure out a way, hadn’t we?”

  She gasped when he laid his hand across her stomach. The touch was so innocent and yet at the same time so compellingly intimate.

  His child. He’d given this woman his baby—and she wanted it. He smiled, thinking about Blythe referring to their baby as her. A daughter. His daughter. He liked the sound of that. His daughter.

  “In what... seven months... our child will be a reality? I don’t think we should waste time on a big, fancy affair, do you? Something simple, but elegant. Craig can stand up for me and Joy can be your matron of honor.”

  What? Surely she had misunderstood what he’d said. It sounded as if he were planning a wedding. “Do you expect me to marry you?”

  “Of course I do. Our child isn’t going to come into this world a bastard, her mother and father unmarried.”

  “But—but we can’t get married.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t love each other. We don’t even like each other very much.” Blythe eased away from Adam’s possessive hand, removing her body from his reach. “Until the night we... er...made love, we couldn’t be in the same room together without getting into an argument.”

  “We don’t argue when we’re in bed together. All we do is—”

  “Don’t say it! I know what happened that night. We both went crazy, but I’m not crazy now, and I know I can’t marry you. It would be wrong.”

  “It would be wrong not to marry. Can’t you see? Even if you and I aren’t in love, even if we have our differences, we owe it to our child to get married. And we owe it to ourselves. After all, Decatur is a pretty old-fashioned Southern town, you know, and we both have reputations to uphold. Hell, you coach a girls’ softball team, don’t you? And I’m on the board of education.”

  “I don’t like your type of man, Adam. Even if we both lose our reputations, it would be better than trying to live together. We’d wind up killing each other.”

  “You didn’t dislike me the night you conceived my child. You gave a good impression of a woman who liked everything about me.” Adam laughed when he heard her gasp.

  “That’s typical of your type, reminding me of what a fool I was. I was very emotional that evening. I’d just become a godmother. Joy named her baby after me, and I was all emotional and everything. Then the thunderstorm blew up... and... and I...I—”

  “Acted like a woman. A real woman. Soft and vulnerable and loving.”

  “I made the mistake of falling right into your big, strong arms. You were...were...irresistible, and for the first time, I gave in to my desires. And just look what happened!” Determined not to cry, Blythe clamped her teeth tightly together.

  Adam reached out for her; she backed farther away from him. “You want me to take the blame?” he asked. “You want me to say it was my fault? All right, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have made love to you. I knew how emotional you were, how vulnerable. But dammit, Blythe, I didn’t know you’d never been with a man. I thought you’d had sex with all those idiots you dated.”

  “Well, I hadn’t. And why I couldn’t resist you, I’ll never know.”

  Adam grinned. “You couldn’t resist me, huh?”

  She flung her purse at him. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor. Oh, damn! Why had she just admitted that she hadn’t been able to resist him that night? She was such a fool. “Ooo...hhh!”

  “We should have an exciting marriage.” Reaching down, Adam picked up her purse and held it out to her. “We can fight all day and make love all night.”

  Blythe grabbed her purse. “I am not going to marry you.”

  “If you think I’m suggesting a love match, then stop worrying.” Adam realized he’d have to play things just right or Blythe would walk out of his office and out of his life, taking his child with her.

  Blythe held her purse against her chest, her arms crisscrossed at her waist. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting that we get married to give our baby legitimacy, to give her two parents, and to maintain our good reputations. We both have a lot to lose as unwed parents.” He watched Blythe as she considered what he’d said. She was weakening just a little. All he had to do was continue persuading her. “When we get married, we can have separate bedrooms, if that’s what you want.”

  “What kind of marriage would that be?”

  “A marriage in name only. For the sake of the baby. After she... or he...is born, we can get an amicable divorce and share joint custody of our child. That shouldn’t be any problem
.”

  “No, that shouldn’t be any problem,” she mumbled. “Would everybody know... I mean would we have to tell people that...”

  “Nobody needs to know anything about our personal business. If you want to tell Joy, it would be all right with me.”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t come here expecting you to propose marriage.” Liar! her conscience screamed at her. Deep down, in your heart of hearts, you came here to Adam hoping he’d find a way to make everything all right. First you break your own cardinal rule about not having sex, then you get yourself pregnant, and now you’re considering marrying the big jerk.

  “Think about it. Talk to Joy.” Adam glanced down at his watch. “It’s ten-thirty. Take all day. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight and we’ll discuss the situation and make plans.”

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt just to discuss the situation. Okay, pick me up around seven.” After all, what harm would it do just to consider his proposal?

  Blythe walked away from him. Adam ran after her, halting her just as she opened the door. “Who’s your doctor?”

  “Dr. Meyers. Why do you ask?”

  “Thought I’d give him a call and—”

  “And see if I’m really pregnant?” She raised her hand against him, wanting nothing more than to slap his face. How dare he think she would humiliate herself this way if she wasn’t really pregnant.

  Adam grabbed her arm in midair. “To find out what I can do to make this pregnancy easier for you.”

  “Oh.” Blythe jerked her arm away from Adam. “Dr. Meyers, in Decatur. I go back for a checkup in a month.”

  Adam clasped her chin in his hand. “I’ll see you tonight. Until then, take care of yourself and my little girl.” He brushed a kiss across her lips.

  She stared at him, not returning the kiss, but not fighting the sweet intimacy either. “Tonight,” she murmured.

  Adam watched Blythe exit the outer office where his secretary sat, staring back and forth from Blythe to him.

  “I’m getting married, Sandra. That little redheaded spitfire is my future wife.”

  “Congratulations, sir. I had no idea you were seriously involved with anyone.”