Clutching the note with the number she was to ring for an appointment with a consultant obstetrician, despair washed over Becca. She couldn’t go into hospital again with the memories and the smell.
Closing her eyes, she curled up into the foetal position. Fat tears pooled and spilled from her eyes, seeping into the pillow.
Intellectually, Becca knew that painful, agonising emotions do not go away if you refuse to deal with them. They multiply, breed and eventually consume a person.
But grief is a trap.
It isolates a person leaving them vulnerable. Abrasive words and acts of unkindness were too difficult for her to accept or to cope with these days. And grief was a room with no doors or windows, with no way out. A person needed to deal with it or stay trapped in eternal despair.
They say there are five stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.
Becca needed to be honest with herself and admit she’d never moved on to acceptance. But pain, soul deep, battled every logical thought. Even now she refused to acknowledge all she’d lost. The dark anger that threatened to devour her roared into her psyche. Utter fury with God, with life, with fate, attempted now to consume her.
Where was the darkness?
She wanted the numbness, the feeling of floating above life and its petty issues. No Justin, no Lucas, no pregnancy - just nothingness.
She wanted it back.
Someone listened, because she dropped like a stone into sleep and into the black embrace of oblivion.
To a place where hell and horror reigned.
Becca glanced at the time on the kitchen clock, again.
Two hours late. Where was Rick? Probably got his nose stuck in some system glitch. Smiling, she dialled his cell phone. It rang repeatedly before going to voicemail.
The baby kicked and she rubbed loving fingers in big circles on her swollen belly.
Even the sprout was concerned. ‘We’re going to give your daddy a piece of our mind when he gets home,’ she told her daughter. Lily, they’d named her after her mother’s favourite flower.
Humming a tune to a routine she was working on, she turned down the oven.
Rick never managed to get anywhere on time. That was the trouble with being married to a nerd and technological wizard; you needed to think creatively when it came to meals.
The man, she decided, would be late for his own funeral.
The doorbell rang and she padded on bare feet down the hallway. He’d probably forgotten his keys, again. What was he like?
She opened the door and smiled. ‘Honestly, Rick, what are ...?’
Two policemen, a woman and a man, stood before her.
The policewoman stared at her belly and paled visibly as her young colleague took a shocked breath. The look in their eyes said more than words ever could.
Death.
When grief arrived, it arrived with a cunning stealth. There had been no blue lights or sirens when death took her husband. It had killed him with a single pop of a blood vessel in his clever brain. A massive stroke. Caught in Death’s dark embrace in two seconds and a single breath as he’d stood to come home.
Time seemed to stand still, everything was happening in slow motion for her now.
She spun to run but the sharp stinging pain stopped her. Fluid ran down her legs.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her heart broke into two pieces, she actually felt it happen.
And then the agony hit her.
She couldn’t catch a breath to scream as her belly went too hard too fast.
Chaos reigned in her world now, slashing and burning everything she held dear.
Her mind took pity on her, flew her to a place where she floated above reality, torment and a river of blood.
The flashing lights and relentless sirens came for her now.
A too loud voice told her to hold on.
But then the fragile wail of a life born too soon had her roar in agony like a tortured beast.
All she heard was the erratic too fast beat of her heart.
She smelt the metallic odour of her blood and the sound of her tormented cries for her mate and her baby sent her howling into Hell.
A mask was put over her face as the too loud voice told her to take deep breaths.
Becca plunged into darkness, down and down.
Someone was screaming in the distance.
The sound came closer, louder and louder.
‘Hush, querida.’
Strong familiar arms held her, rocking her.
In her ear a deep voice muttered soothing sounds, words, in Spanish.
The trembling wouldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop it. Her teeth chattered. Cold sweat and nausea swept over her in wave after wave, leaving her clammy and disoriented.
‘It is not real, it is a dream.’ Pale, Lucas searched her face as he laid her down on the damp pillow, his dark eyes filled to the brim with anxiety. ‘I am calling the doctor.’
He reached for the phone and Becca’s trembling fingers touched his arm.
‘No, I’m okay now. I get nightmares when I’m upset, please don’t.’
She couldn’t bear talking to well meaning strangers.
Her heart rate calmed at last and she sat, pulling the sheet under her arms.
Lucas perched on the edge of the bed his dark eyes narrowing on her face.
‘We need to talk.’ He didn’t touch her and for that she’d be forever grateful. ‘You are pregnant?’
He looked as if he’d been hit by a truck and who could blame him?
How the hell hadn’t she known? But she didn’t have any of the signs she’d had before. Her periods were always irregular, especially over the past couple of years because she’d never quite got over the need to keep too close an eye on her weight after studying ballet.
With a shudder, she nodded and inhaled. ‘Six weeks.’
Those dark velvet eyes never left hers. ‘The child is mine.’ It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
She fought the hysterical need to scream ‘Of course it’s yours!’
With nerveless fingers she plucked at the sheet and cleared her throat.
‘Yes, it’s yours.’
She couldn’t read his eyes as he studied her face but his jaw tensed.
‘What are you going to do about it?’
Ice gripped her heart. He didn’t want the child? Her throat closed as she struggled with a maternal instinct so powerful it sliced through grief like a hot knife through butter.
She tried to read the expression in those dark eyes and failed.
The most important thing, Becca realised with an alarming clarity of thought that had been absent from her mind for far too long, was to get away from him.
She needed space and time to think.
‘I won’t have an abortion.’
Emotions whirled in his eyes and she couldn’t decipher them. He didn’t remind her that she was the one who said there was no way she wanted a baby.
Shame that she could play with a new life, even consider bringing one into the world when she was a psychological mess and not in a stable relationship hit her hard. But this was a precious gift and no matter how she’d come to receive it she would do everything within her power to keep it.
Lucas gave a single nod of his dark head.
‘Very well. But I will have an active part in the life of my child.’
Stunned, Becca simply stared at him.
One minute he’s asking her if she wanted an abortion and the next he wanted to be a part of the child’s life.
She shook her head, pressing shaky fingers into her eyelids. Why was he being so utterly cold to her?
But she lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye.
The pulse hammering in her throat made it difficult to speak.
‘I’m going home.’
He shook his head and spoke slowly,
‘Not unless you have someone there to look after you. Is there?’
There was her mother, but she was in the South of France. And how could she bring more heartache to her door?
Becca moved to get up and immediately wished she’d worn something less revealing. The fitted sheath made her feel too vulnerable under the intense scrutiny of those dark eyes.
‘No, but I can’t stay here.’
His gaze sharpened. ‘Why not?’
The tone made her eyes wide. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. She was so self-obsessed she’d forgotten about his feelings, his shock.
‘I’m so sorry about this, Lucas.’
He stood and thrust a hand through his hair, around the back of his neck as he paced to the window and back.
Those dark eyes stared at her now with such intensity she felt breathless.
‘I am assuming you did not take the morning after pill?’ At the shake of her head he ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth. ‘Care to tell me why not and why the hell you did not tell me?’
She cringed at the cold harsh tone.
Becca wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened to her and she wondered if she ever would be.
So she lied straight to his face. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t. I went to the pharmacy and bought it and even sat down to swallow it. But I couldn’t do it.’
And he wasn’t buying that she realised as those dark eyes bored into her soul.
‘I asked you a question, querida.’
She plucked at the sheet with nerveless fingers.
‘There was a good chance that I wasn’t pregnant. My periods are erratic at the best of times. I’ve been busy with work and well ...’ her voice caught in her throat as she swallowed.
‘Well, what?’
The rumour mill in theatre land was full of how disconsolate a certain theatre star was at the moment and nursing a broken heart. ‘There’s been all that stuff about Willow Bailey in the press and I didn’t want to add to your burden. So I ...’
He appeared to take what she said at face value, thank God.
‘I have never had relationship with her, I told you that. I have no reason to lie, querida. It was strictly business.’
‘But ...’
He pulled up a chair and sat astride it, resting his arms on the back.
‘She is... was a client.’ By the look on his face, Becca realised there was probably a lot more to it, but what business was it of hers?
‘Is that why you did not want to contact me?’ he asked.
There was no point in denying it. ‘It was part of the reason.’
He nodded. ‘And the other part?’
Her mother always said that honesty was the best policy.
Steadily, Becca met his eyes. ‘You scare me, Lucas. And I don’t want to be part of the circus that’s your life.’
He shook his head, those cold dark eyes narrowed now as they studied her features.
‘Are you sure there is not something or someone else?’
Confused by what sounded like hurt in his harsh tone, she simply stared.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You appear to be intimate with the man you were dancing with this evening – if I could call what you were doing with him dancing. Are you sure he is not the father?’
The dance and Justin’s kiss brought heat to her cheeks.
‘You saw that?’
The arctic look in his eye made ice ball in her gut.
‘You put on quite an exhibition, querida. And here I was thinking you were shy.’ His voice dripped with disdain. ‘You are an excellent actress, I will give you that.’
The tone put her back up. Why, the supercilious, son-of-a ...
She jutted out her chin. ‘You know nothing about me.’ And decided the look in his eye was just plain nasty.
Heat flashed in her face then drained away leaving it too pale.
The rapid pulse in her neck alerted Lucas to the fact he’d upset her.
His doctor had told him Becca shouldn’t become stressed and he cursed himself for his stupidity.
She took a couple of shallow breaths, her flashing eyes never left his for a moment.
‘Justin is my partner, business partner. I’m a choreographer not an exhibitionist. We were simply letting off steam.’
He almost winced as her voice, blade sharp, sliced into him.
Heady relief surged through his system even as his encyclopaedic memory for all things showbiz dinged. Wait a minute. It clicked. Justin Cope and Rebecca Wainwright, of course.
‘You are working on Burt Lindstrom’s new movie?’
Her wide-eyed surprise almost made him smile.
Burt was a close friend as well as a client.
God, she looked fabulous, all angry and irritated with him.
‘Yes,’ her eyes narrowed now. ‘What type of dancing do you think I did, lap-dancing?’
Even as her voice dripped with contempt, Lucas thrust the picture of what she could do on his lap out of his mind.
He couldn’t help it, he grinned. ‘Justin is gay, right?’
Her little mewl of annoyance stirred his blood.
‘That’s none of your business.’
Oh yes it is, baby. Delighted with her, he smiled. ‘You are a very talented lady.’
Unimpressed cold blue eyes stayed on his. ‘We’ve earned it.’
‘Why did you not tell me?’ He watched heat burn her cheeks as white teeth tugged on her bottom lip. A habit he’d come to recognise meant she was evading.
She sighed. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
Actually it was a very big deal but he wasn’t about to start an argument with her over it. He’d find out why she’d kept it from him, eventually. Cristo, she was one of the top in her field. It explained a lot about how she ticked. In fact Burt had told him that the Cope and Wainwright team were creative workaholics. She wasn’t a party animal, shunned the limelight and he wondered who represented them. And he realised now that after the death of her husband Becca had most likely thrown herself into work.
He creased his brow as he tried to read and understand the myriad of expressions crossing that beautiful face.
‘You are shortlisted for a Tony?’
She took a deep breath as those brilliant eyes studied him.
‘Yes, but I doubt we’ll win.’
‘Who represents you?’
‘No one. Justin deals with contracts and negotiations. For obvious reasons I’ve kept to the background. I need to go home, Lucas.’
No way. He had too much to think about. He’d been about to discuss the facts of business life with her but the look in her eye made him ease back. She was pregnant with his child. The doctor had ordered bed-rest and he would use the advantage he’d been handed to keep her with him until he could work out his too intense and complex feelings for this woman. And more importantly hers for him.
He shook his head. ‘You are carrying my child. I have a vested interest in your physical and emotional health. I am coming with you to the doctor tomorrow.’
He watched a variety of emotions run across her expressive face. He recognised fear, despair and something else, something dark haunting her beautiful eyes.
Those eyes became huge as she clutched the sheet to her breast.
‘But I can’t stay here. I need clothes and... stuff.’
Okay, she needed personal possessions, no problem. ‘I will drive us over to your place and we will collect everything you need.’
Becca groaned and dropped her head to her knees.
Lucas couldn’t help it, he sat on the bed lifted her hair and rubbed her neck. The muscles under his fingers were rock hard with tension.
‘Think of it as a break. Once you have had the results we will review the situation.’
Her head whipped up. The full mouth trembled.
‘I don’t want a break. I need to work. We’re on tight deadlines.’
The pulse jack-hammering under his thumb to
ld him she was determined.
‘Very well. I am coming to your apartment and will stay with you.’
‘What?’ She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘I have a one bed roomed apartment. Where are you going to sleep?’
Lucas knew it was a gamble. He didn’t fancy sleeping on a floor, but needs must. ‘The sofa?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘How tall are you? Six three, four?’
He shrugged, battling to resist kissing that fabulous mouth.
‘Something like that.’
‘Uh huh, so how does the idea of sleeping with your feet hanging over the edge of a two-seater sofa grab you?’
It didn’t. But he’d rather have his tongue ripped out of his head before he admitted it.
Before he could reply, she lifted her purse from the bedside table and pulled out her ancient cell phone and he wondered what she’d done with the Blackberry.
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath and hit speed dial.
Vivid blue eyes held his. ‘Okay, I’ll stay here tonight. Can I have privacy?’
Lucas leaned his forehead against the wall outside her bedroom.
The low murmur of her voice hummed through his system. She left a voice message for Justin telling him she would be late tomorrow, that she’d see him around lunchtime.
Dios, what a mess. She appeared too highly strung this evening. His doctor said she was incredibly fit and well apart for her blood pressure.
He shook his head in dismay.
The girl tonight was a bag of nerves.
What had happened to the woman who’d danced with him and made love with him as if he was the only man in the world for her?
By the nightmare she’d had, he realised she was emotionally fragile too.
He’d never forget those heartbroken sobs.
He pressed his fist to the ache between his ribs.
Justin was naturally very close to her. They’d danced with an intimacy it was impossible to ignore. Thank God he was gay. It had angered him; he admitted it, to see him touch her like that. Jealousy was a new and unwelcome experience for Lucas and he was finding it very hard to deal with. When it came to Becca he appeared to morph into a caveman and how pathetic was that?
He could run three miles without losing his breath. But one look at Becca this evening and he’d been gasping for air.
A Stormy Spring Page 9
