“Don’t you have a coat? Gloves?” He tried to sit up again and cursed at his body’s reaction. “How did you get here?”
She shook her head. “I drove. I’m fine.”
“Where’s your coat?”
“That’s not important.” Her glare warned him to back off.
Zach ignored the glare. “Then the weather must have warmed up a lot since yesterday.”
She tilted her head impatiently. “We can pretend it did.”
“I think we’re through pretending.”
“I agree.” She turned to face him, but didn’t meet his eyes. “We should go into this knowing where we stand.”
“What did you have in mind?”
After a moment, she shrugged. “We’re married, and soon the baby will be here. We’ll be a family, and we’ll all get along fine. We’ve got as much as most people have. I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to see that.”
Not exactly an avowal of undying devotion. But maybe he wasn’t making the right connections. “So…you’re saying I don’t have to tell you I love you?”
Her laugh had an edge. “No. I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Clear enough.” She was warning him off, plain and simple. The sharp ache in his gut rivaled the pain in his chest. He concentrated on practicalities. “Where should we live?”
“I meant what I said. We’ll go to your house when you get out of here. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
“And exactly how do you benefit from this arrangement?”
“Don’t think this is all for your sake.” She turned to him with a semiprofessional smile. “I get somebody to wake up in the middle of the night to change diapers. A baby-sitter when I want to go shopping. I’d say there are a lot of advantages for me.”
“Well, great.” Zach closed his eyes. Suddenly, he felt too tired to try anymore. Maybe, if he’d been stronger…maybe, if he could just hold her…
But not today. Today he’d take what he’d been given and be satisfied. He’d have a lifetime to change her mind. He didn’t have to start this minute.
“Zach?” Her voice was closer, right next to him.
“Mmm.?”
“I’m going to let you get some rest. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Fine,” he mumbled. Darkness had begun to creep over the edges of reality. “Wear a coat.”
“I will.”
He thought she’d left the room. But then, just before his brain shut down, he felt her lips on his cheek. Zach slid into unconsciousness with a satisfied smile on his face, if not in his heart.
SHELLEY WASN’T SURPRISED to find Zach’s family—most of them, anyway—waiting for her at the end of the hall.
“We need to talk,” the taller version of Zach said. Grant, that was his name. “There’s an empty room down this way.”
Mrs. Harmon waited there. The rest of the family grouped around her as she stared at Shelley. “You’re married to Zachary?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Why?”
“Because this is his baby and we both want to raise it.”
“There’s no love between you?”
“I—” How could she answer that? Shelley cleared her throat. “We like each other very much.”
“Obviously,” said one of the brothers—Stefan or Josef, she couldn’t remember which.
Nobody corrected the rude remark. Shelley decided to ignore it. “We didn’t plan this. But we’re going to take care of our child. And I will try to make them both happy…” She stopped because she was close to tears—and perilously close to admitting the truth.
She needn’t have bothered. Mrs. Harmon walked slowly across the room and stood in front of Shelley, her blue eyes serious and perceptive.
And then she smiled, laying a cool hand along Shelley’s cheek. “You do love him,” she said softly: “That’s good. Everything will work out.”
Turning to her family, she beckoned them forward. “Zachary has his wife to take care of him. The rest of us will be in the way.”
With that comment, Zach’s family left Shelley alone in the waiting room, at the beginning of a life she hadn’t expected and wasn’t at all sure she would ever deserve.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHELLEY PULLED the Mercedes into Zach’s driveway early on Saturday afternoon, coasted to a stop and gazed at his bungalow. Under six inches of snow, she couldn’t tell much about the landscaping, but the overall impression was neat and tidy. She wasn’t surprised. Zach was an organized thinker.
She used the key he’d given her, opened the front door and put her suitcase down inside. From the top of a small table just to her left, a gorgeous white cat with gold eyes and a regal snubbed nose eyed her with a combination of suspicion and belligerence.
“Well, well.” Shelley closed the door against a cold wind. “You must be Darius.” She held out her hand, but the cat didn’t move. The gold eyes didn’t blink.
As she took a step farther into the house, a warning signal from deep in the cat’s throat advised retreat. Trust Zach to have a guard-cat. Keeping an eye on her adversary, she stepped backward through the doorway into the living room. “He should have sent you to handle that dog. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
The warning sound escalated and the Persian hopped down from its table perch to come after her, tail straight up, fur raised.
She glanced around and found the closest place to sit. Perched on the edge of the brown leather couch, she rested her palms on her knees. “I come in peace, you know.”
Darius set up sentry duty between the couch and a doorway to the rest of the house, tail whipping on the floor with barely restrained rage.
Waiting out probation, Shelley studied Zach’s space. Expecting sleek, contemporary furniture—or else secondhand bachelor stuff—she was surprised at the old-world, settled feel of the room. The house seemed sunny and warm, even on a snowy November afternoon. A carved Jacobean chair and warm wood tables complemented the old Indian carpet on the floor. A sound system took up most of one wall—the man obviously enjoyed music.
“Something the baby would have missed, with just me,” she murmured. Why had she believed she could do everything all alone?
She looked back at the cat. “One of us is going to have to give, friend. I think it should be you.” Standing, she took a step toward her guard. Back arched, eyes wild, the Persian hissed.
At the same time, the front door slammed open. Almost before Shelley could turn around, Darius gave a warning yowl, bypassed her with two long leaps across the couch and raced to the door.
“Hello? Anybody here?” Jimmy Falcon surveyed them both from the doorway. “Whew, I’m glad it’s you, Shelley. For a second I thought I’d be confronting some dangerous perp in here.” He closed the door, then turned around with a grin. “Maybe I am?”
Her heartbeat slowed. She managed a smile. “Not me. But Darius might be contemplating murder.”
Jimmy looked down at the cat hissing at him from the tabletop. “You’re just pretending, Darius. I know you’re hungry. Let’s show Shelley how to tame you.” He nodded toward the back of the house. “The way to this guy’s heart is definitely through his stomach.”
In the kitchen, Jimmy opened a can of cat food while Darius sang for his supper. “Sorry I scared you when I came in. I picked up a key from Zach’s mom right after he got hurt, so the cat would get fed. He’s coming home this afternoon, right?”
Shelley nodded. “The doctors would rather wait until Monday, but Zach talked them into today.”
“That’s good. He’ll do better in his own house. Between the nurses and his family, he sounded pretty crazed last night.”
She looked over at Jimmy. “You talked to him?”
“Yeah, I’ve called him every day. I don’t do the hospital scene anymore…unless I’m unconscious.” He gave her his self-mocking grin. “Zach knows that—so he managed not to get hurt too badly.”
She grinned back. “What a pal.”
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she said as Jimmy pulled on his coat. “Darius had me stalemated on the couch.”
“I’m not surprised. This guy doesn’t like strangers. He barely tolerates Zach, some days. But feed him a couple of those snacks every day and eventually he’ll let you have the run of the place.”
“I’ll remember.”
They walked to the door. Jimmy turned with his hand on the knob. His dark eyes were serious, for once. “You and Zach are getting off to a kinda rocky start.”
She felt her face heat up. “I know.”
“Give yourself—and him—some time. Things will work out. Trust me.” He flashed a smile and left.
While Darius cleaned himself after dinner, Shelley explored the rest of the house. The only bathroom was about the size of her linen closet. Zach had left his razor and shaving cream out on the last morning he’d been home. She blinked back tears at the sight of such personal tools. He was lucky to be coming home at all.
His bedroom wasn’t a giant cavern, like hers, but large enough for the furniture—a four-poster bed, a big dresser and a chest, plus a simple table and a blue armchair by the window. Books were stacked on the table, hardcovers and paperbacks, romances and history books and magazines with official-sounding titles—Law Enforcement Weekly and Public Service Journal.
A historical romance lay open, spine up, on top of the stack of magazines. Well-thumbed pages told her he’d read this one more than once. Shelley focused on the words, saw that he’d stopped in the middle of a love scene. She read the page, drawn immediately into the mood and tone of the writing. Was the author that good? Or could her own heated reaction have something to do with standing in Zach’s bedroom, beside his bed, with his personality all around her and the memory of sleeping in his arms beating inside her heart?
Trying to shake off the daydreams, she stripped the bed and remade it with clean white sheets under the blue blanket and soft red spread. She drew the drapes against the afternoon glare and turned on the lamps. The room glowed like an old painting.
And that brought back the dreams. Yes, she could picture Zach here. Picture herself in his bed, warm and drowsy, being wakened by his hands moving on her skin, and his mouth seducing hers, whispering love words in her ear. The baby moved strongly as her whole body tightened at the thought.
And then she blew out the breath she’d been holding. She shouldn’t expect so much. They might get back the physical intimacy—their wedding night had been beyond wonderful. But emotionally…
Would Zach learn to love her? Shelley could only hope Jimmy Falcon’s prediction came true.
ZACH SUBMITTED to the wheelchair ride out of the hospital with his jaw clenched. “I hate this part,” he muttered to the nurse.
“Then you should stay out of the line of fire,” she retorted. “A bullet-proof vest only goes so far, you know.”
At least Shelley had brought him clothes, so he didn’t have to leave in a robe and gown. At least Shelley was taking him home—home to his own house. And staying there with him.
But not, he realized when they arrived and he shuffled slowly down the hall toward his bedroom, with him. Her suitcase sat in the guest room. Pretty definite message there.
She came up behind him as he pondered the arrangement. “You ought to lie down. The doctors said bed rest for at least a week.”
“Doctors talk too much. I want to sit in a chair. In the living room.” He turned, and they were face-to-face, separated only by the swell of her stomach. He couldn’t resist the chance to brush his fingertips along her cheek. “Thanks for bringing me home. For being here.”
“I’m glad to help.” She ducked away without meeting his eyes. “If you’re going to sit, do it before you fall down.”
Disappointment rocked him. “Good idea.”
He claimed the armchair in the living room, put his legs on the ottoman and groaned. “Feels good. I’ll just stay here for the next couple of weeks.” Darius jumped into his lap and made himself at home for a nap. “Jimmy said he’d taught you how to tame this wild beast.”
Shelley perched on the edge of the couch. “Food always works with males.” She looked around the room, glanced his way, then around again. “Um, would you like something to eat?”
He grinned. Was this progress? “Don’t think so. Do you like cats?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had one. Or a dog, either. I guess I’m a blank slate for pets.”
Two points for their side. But his head was beginning to ache. He let his eyes close. “Not to say the doctors are right or anything, but I think I’ll flake out for a few minutes.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Her footsteps echoed as she left the room.
Zach listened to the sounds of Shelley unpacking—gentle sounds that seemed to echo through the house. He’d hadn’t allowed a woman into his space before. Definitely not for more than a night or two.
How long would Shelley stay? Did she see the relationship as permanent—and permanently bloodless? Had she decided that married life, minus love and passion, suited her just fine?
What would be the best way to change her mind?
The first mind he needed to change, though, was Carol’s. “I guess I have to deal with my sister,” he told his wife that night as they ate Chinese takeout. “I’ll do it tomorrow when we go to lunch at Mom’s.”
Across the table, Shelley looked up with panic in her eyes. “Oh—I don’t know…”
“It’s really casual. We just sit around and talk.”
“But—” She looked at her plate, then set her fork carefully on one edge. “I don’t suppose this is something I can avoid, is it?”
Zach shrugged, then remembered why he shouldn’t. “Ow… Sure you can. I’ll tell them you had to work.”
Shelley rubbed her temples. “No. I owe Carol an explanation.”
“She owes you an apology, as far as I’m concerned. She was way out of line.”
“She was upset.” Standing, she picked up her plate. “Are you finished?”
End of discussion, he gathered. “Let me help.”
Shelley shook her head. “You shouldn’t work that hard. I’ll take care of it.” Because she didn’t want him too close?
Zach put his hands in the air. “Okay. You win. I think I’ll turn in.”
He took his time walking down the hall, hoping she would call him back. She didn’t.
Darius scooted into the bedroom ahead of him, and Zach slammed the door behind them both.
Not exactly how he’d planned to spend his first night at home with his new wife.
THEY MET AGAIN the next morning with serious faces and not much to say. Shelley flipped pancakes and fried bacon. Zach didn’t usually eat breakfast before his mother’s Sunday lunch, but he ate this one and then retreated into the newspaper.
Not that he could concentrate on reading—he heard every move Shelley made as she straightened the kitchen, went to her room, showered and dressed. Like a masochist, he punished himself with images of what she was doing and how she must look.
She came into the living room about eleven-thirty. “What time do we need to go to your mother’s house?”
“More or less now.” He folded the sports section, added it to the neat stack by the chair, then looked up at her. “I can go by myself.”
Her hair gleamed as she shook her head. “No, you can’t. The doctors said no driving.”
She tempted him almost beyond endurance, this gorgeous wife of his, wearing a red plaid flannel shirt and slim black pants.
Zach fought for concentration. “So drop me off.”
Her left hand, with his ring on it, moved protectively to her stomach. “We’re married, Zach. We might as well act like it.”
Frustration got the better of him. “You’re making that a tough assignment.�
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She moved away. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”
Like a dog with a ham bone, he couldn’t let go. “Trying to do what?”
Shelley turned to stare at him. “Why are you so determined to fight with me?”
“Because otherwise you won’t talk at all.”
“I—” She looked down at his face. Judging by the shadows under her eyes, she hadn’t slept any better than he had. “Let’s just go, okay? I’m ready whenever you are.”
Zach sighed and slowly pushed himself out of the chair. “Great. Let’s roll.”
They arrived at his mom’s house to find the whole crowd already in attendance. His mother opened the door. “Zachary, how are you?” She reached up for her usual kiss. But before he could answer the question, she’d turned to Shelley. “Come in, Shelley. Let Grant take your coat. Would you like something to drink before lunch? Please, sit down. Do you need a pillow for your back?”
Zach was left staring after them. “Close your mouth,” Grant said as he walked by on his way to the closet. “You know how Mom loves the prospect of more grandkids.”
“Yeah, I know.” Would that work to his advantage with Shelley?
Stefan and Josef made room for him on the sofa in the living room. “I can’t get over this.” Stefan shook his head. “You’re just about the last of us I expected to see changing diapers.”
“Life’s full of surprises.” Though Shelley appeared to be talking to his mother, Zach hadn’t missed the glance she cast his way at Stefan’s comment.
“Can I have your address book? Can’t remember if it’s brown or black.”
“No way.”
“You won’t be needing it anymore.”
“Shut up, Stef.”
He had a feeling the damage had already been done. His mother was still talking babies. Shelley kept her poise, surrounded by all of his sisters and sisters-in-law, but the expression she wore looked frozen… no, closed.
And then he realized that one of his siblings was missing. He nudged Josef. “Where’s Carol?”
“Her room. Mom sent her upstairs when she refused to apologize to you and Shelley.”
Expecting the Best (Harlequin Superromance) Page 18
