by Robin Wells
Annie's eyes took on that soft look again. "I can't de- scribe the way I felt when I first heard her cry. And then they put her on my chest, and I got to hold her." She gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. "It was the most wonderful, most amazing moment in my life."
Jake's heart squeezed in his chest, regretting all that he'd missed. He pulled the Volvo into his garage.
Annie looked over at him as he killed the engine. "Speaking of Madeline, I told Susanna to call if she had any trouble with her. Do you think she will?"
Jake hit the opener again.: The garage door rumbled down. "I doubt it. Susanna thinks it's our wedding night."
Wedding night—good grief, now there was a sexually loaded term. It might as well be called "copulation night" or "night of wild marital nookie."
The mention of it made the air grow hotter. Annie looked like she felt it, too. They sat there and stared at each other, sexual awareness humming between them like a current through a power line.
Annie moistened her lips with her tongue and gave a small smile. "I guess our kiss looked pretty convincing."
"I'll say. It nearly convinced the hell out of me. "
Jake had meant the remark to be flippant, but it came out sounding alarmingly suggestive. The garage light shut off, plunging them into darkness. Jake quickly opened his car door, making the light inside the vehicle flip on.
"You're a really good actor," he added, wanting to diffuse the tension.
"You, too."
I wasn't acting. The troublesome thought ricocheted through his head like a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing from one disturbing memory to another. He realized they were leaning toward each other. He forced himself to look away, to get out of the car, to deliberately steer his mind back to the reason they'd gotten married in the first place. "Let's go in and give Susanna a call. You'll feel better if we check up on Madeline."
Annie hung up the cordless phone ten minutes later and turned around to find Jake lounging against the black granite kitchen countertop, watching her.
"Everything okay?" he asked, handing her a glass of wine he'd opened while she was on the phone.
Annie took a tentative sip. "Fine. Madeline fell asleep in the car on the way home from the restaurant. She barely woke up when Susanna changed her and put on her jammies, and now she's down for the night."
"That's good."
"Yes." Except that Madeline had always served as a buffer between them. Without the child here, there was nothing to diffuse the tension that stretched between Annie and Jake like a tightrope. Annie took another sip of wine and looked around. "Your home is lovely."
"Thanks. I'll give you the grand tour."
She followed him through the kitchen and breakfast room, taking in the way it was all done in black granite and shining chrome, very high-tech and sophisticated. "It's very striking. Who designed it?"
"Mainly Rachel. She worked with an architect and an interior designer, but she had specific ideas of what she wanted."
Annie followed Jake into the dining room. It, too, was stark and modem. The focal point was a long, black-lacquered table surrounded by twelve white upholstered chairs. A tall, Oriental silk flower arrangement sprawled dramatically in the center. An enormous abstract painting of cubes and rectangles supplied the only note of color in the room.
The black-and-white theme continued in the living room. Two black leather sofas faced each other in front of the imposing white-marble fireplace. An enormous glass-topped coffee table, a pair of zebra-print chairs, a shoulder-high wrought iron candle holder, a large abstract sculpture, and a plush black-and-white, geometric-patterned rug completed the room.
The house looked like a showplace, not a home. It wasn't just the stylized decor, Annie realized; it was the fact that everything was picture perfect. Every pillow was fluffed, every tabletop neat. "How do you keep, it so spotless?" she asked.
"I have a housekeeper come in once a week." "She must have just been here."
"Actually, she's due tomorrow. I, uh, don't spend much time at home."
Apparently not. Annie looked around, her attention drawn to a collection of oil paintings that looked like Rorschach tests hung over a low buffet against one wall. An array of steel-framed photographs sat below them.
Annie crossed the room and picked one up. Jake, looking about ten years younger, stood in front of a Christmas tree with his arm around a smiling brunette. Annie's stomach twisted. "This must be Rachel."
Jake nodded.
"She was lovely."
.Yes."
Annie gazed at the attractive young woman in the photograph. She had Susanna's sleek hair, the kind of hair Annie herself had always envied. Unlike her own unruly curls, Rachel's locks gracefully fell to her shoulders in a sleek, obedient wave. The woman had a slight tan, even though it was the holiday season, with not a freckle anywhere in sight. An irrational stab of inadequacy cut through Annie's chest. The only way she could get a tan was if her freckles all collided.
Carefully replacing the photo, she picked up the one next to it. A teenaged version of Rachel and Jake smiled back. They were riding in an open convertible, waving to a crowd. Rachel wore a crown and a white evening gown, and Jake wore a football jersey. A banner on the side of the car read "Homecoming King and Queen."
Annie gazed at the smiling couple, suddenly feeling strangely wistful. Rachel and Jake had a long, shared history. Like plants that had been potted together, their roots were deep and intertwined. It was something she would never share with Jake—or any man, for that matter. "Were you two an item all the way through col- lege?„
"Nah. We went our separate ways after high school— Rachel went to Emory in Atlanta and I went to Harvard. But we both ended up back in Tulsa. We got back together at one of her parents' parties. We married a couple of years later."
Annie nodded silently, a large lump in her throat. The next photo made the lump grow bigger.
Rachel, resplendent in a long white wedding gown, a gown that was sleek and fitted and stunning in its simplicity. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon, and she was holding a sophisticated bouquet of white calla lillies.
The next photo showed Jake beside her, looking handsome as a movie star in a tuxedo, smiling down at his bride as together they cut together an enormous, multi-tiered wedding cake. But it wasn't Jake's clothes or even the warmth of his smile that drew Annie's eye; it was the wedding ring on his finger, clearly visible as his hand covered his bride's.
"You used to wear a wedding ring."
Jake nodded.
A flash of insight stabbed Annie's heart. "I'll bet you were the kind of man who never took it off."
Jake looked at her. She could tell she'd hit home by the guarded look in his eyes.
"It was a part of you," Annie whispered. "Just like she was."
Jake looked away, but not before she saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. An odd emptiness filled her chest.
She placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I should have realized ... I mean, I shouldn't have tried to push you into getting a ring this morning."
"Forget about it. It's no big deal." He stepped back and gestured to the next room, apparently eager to change the subject. "Let me show you the rest of the house."
Annie, followed him through the other rooms-a home office with two desks, obviously a his-and-hers arrangement. An upstairs TV room, filled with more pictures of Jake and Rachel. Two pristine guest rooms, each with their own private bath.
And a large, unfurnished room located across from the master suite. "What was this?" Annie asked, looking at the blank white walls.
"It was going to be the nursery."
The nursery—and it was completely empty. As empty as Rachel's arms, as empty as her womb. As empty as Rachel's death had left Jake's heart.
Annie's throat grew tight with emotion. Jake flipped off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Annie stood there for a moment, blinking back the tears that crowded her eyes, not knowing if the tears were for Jake or Rachel or herse
lf.
She drew a deep breath and followed Jake into the next room—the master bedroom suite. Spacious and airy, with tall ceilings and a pair of French doors, the room was all done in white. The tall posts of the king sized iron bed were draped with a gauzy white fabric, giving it a feminine look. More photos of Jake and Rachel covered the tops of two matching dressers.
The house was a shrine to Rachel, Annie suddenly realized. Jake hadn't changed a thing. He was living there in the house, keeping everything just as it had been when she was alive, with virtually nothing changed.
Nothing, that was, except his whole life.
Annie .fought a sudden urge to flee. She didn't belong here. She was an intruder, an invader in another woman's home. She'd known that Jake was clinging to Rachel's memory. She just hadn't known how tightly.
Not that it mattered, she told herself. She'd known Jake didn't love her, known she wasn't entering into a real marriage. Still, a tiny little corner of her heart had secretly, inexplicably hoped...
What? Annie asked herself derisively. That he was going to fall in love with her? She knew better than to set herself up for disappointment like that. She knew better than to pine after an emotionally unavailable man. And any man who flatly stated that he had no interest in ever getting involved again because no woman could possibly compare to his late wife was emotionally unavailable.
Still, he hadn't kissed her like a man who was pining for another woman. He'd kissed her like a man who'd wanted her. Twice.
She glanced across the bed, only to discover that he was staring back at her, looking for all the world as if he wanted to kiss her again. A shock of sexual awareness rolled through her.
She looked away, and her gaze fell on the French doors. She walked toward them. "What's out here?"
"A balcony. It overlooks the backyard." Jake unlocked and opened the doors, and Annie stepped through them, onto a wide wooden deck.
Jake joined her at the railing. The night was warm, and the air felt soft after the hard chill of the air conditioning. Annie peered into the night, but it was too dark to make out anything but shadows. "I hear some frogs. Are you near water?"
"There's a landscaped fishpond at the back. I can go downstairs and turn on the lights, if you want to see it." Jake turned to go.
"Oh, don't bother.' Annie reached out her hand to stop him, and it landed on his chest. It was a small, inconsequential gesture, one she'd made without thinking, but the simple touch set off an odd chain of events.
Jake froze. Annie did, too. They looked at each other, their eyes gleaming in the night like those of a pair of wild animals. She awkwardly started to lift her hand.
His hand came down on top of hers, trapping it against his heart, and then his eyes trapped her gaze, as well. Their eyes held a wordless conversation, speaking eloquently of hunger and need and desire. And then she was in his anus, and his lips covered hers in a kiss.
And oh, dear Lord, what a kiss it was. It started out gentle, but then his tongue slid between her lips, and the next thing she knew, his mouth was doing urgent, delicious, lascivious things to hers, and she was doing them back. Desire, hot and demanding, seized her like a body-snatcher. She pressed against him and felt the hard proof of his desire pressing back. A moan drifted through the night air, and she realized, on some vague, less-than conscious level, that it had come from her own throat.
Jake's hands slid down to her bottom. She fitted herself against him, grinding shamelessly, on fire with desire. She wanted him to pick her up, to carry her inside, to strip her down, to stretch her out, and to spend the whole night making wild, fierce, uninhibited love to her in that big, iron bed.
Except ... the bed would be the one he'd shared with Rachel. The thought hit her like a splash of cold water. Dear Lord—what on earth was she doing? And why was she doing it in Rachel's own house?
Annie abruptly pulled back. Jake pulled away, too. He ran a hand down his face and blew out a harsh breath. When he finally looked at her, his eyes were full of remorse. "Good God, Annie--I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen." V
"Me, neither."
"We—um—must have had too much to drink."
"We must have." But it was a lie, and they both knew it. Annie walked stiffly back into the bedroom as Jake closed and locked the doors. She pretended a deep interest in a candlestick on the bureau.
"I—I'm really sorry," he stammered.
"Forget it. It's no big deal." She faked a yawn. "I'm ready to turn in. Where do you want me to sleep?"
"I don't care. In here, if you want."
Annie looked up, startled. Surely he didn't mean...
Jake cleared his throat. "I, uh, sleep in a guest room these days. So you can have this room, if you want."
He couldn't bear to sleep alone in the bed he used to share with Rachel. A huge lump formed in Annie's throat. "No, thanks. I'd rather sleep in the guest room, too."
Jake's eyebrows arched upward.
Annie's cheeks grew hot. "I mean, the other guest room."
"Oh. Okay. Sure. Wherever you'd be most comfortable." Jake's Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. "I'll, um, go get your bag from the car."
He turned and strode from the room, leaving Annie to stare at the large iron bed—the bed where Jake had made love to Rachel, where they'd tried to make a baby, where Jake no longer slept now that Rachel was gone.
The bed looked empty, but it was crowded with memories, and there was no room in it for her. A quiver of pain shot through Annie's chest.
It was just like Jake's heart.
Chapter Fifteen
"Married? Are you out of your mind?" Tom loomed over Jake's desk the following Monday, his hands planted firmly on the desktop.
Jake leaned back in his swivel chair. He'd known his father-in-law would be upset about his marriage, but he hadn't expected Tom to come completely unhinged. The man had stormed into his office like a S.W.A.T. team trooper two minutes after Jake had settled behind his desk.
"When Susanna told me what you'd done, I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't believe you'd do such an idiotic thing, and I especially couldn't believe you'd do it behind my back."
Jake deliberately kept his voice calm and controlled. "I didn't do anything behind your back. You would have been invited to the wedding, but you were out of the country”
"You did this because you were angry at me for hiring that detective!"
Jake turned a pen in his fingers as he looked up at Tom. "I am still angry about that. You had no right to interfere. But that had nothing to do with my decision to marry Annie. I married her because it's the best thing for our child."
"How do you figure that? You can't, love this woman."
"I love my child."
"You didn't marry the child, for Christ's sake!"
"That's right. I married her mother, and now Madeline has a family." Jake deliberately used the low, even, voice of reason he used in court to make an opposing counsel's argument sound histrionic.
That seemed to inflame Tom further. "Oh, and I sup- pose you spent the last three nights with that woman- first at your house, then out at her so-called ranch—just cementing your family ties?"
Jake felt a muscle tick in his jaw. He had no intention of telling Tom that he and Annie had slept in separate bedrooms. He fixed the man with a stony gaze. "That's right."
Tom's face was already red with rage. It darkened to a mottled purple. "It doesn't bother you one bit that you're making a mockery of your marriage to Rachel?"
"This has nothing to do with her."
"Bringing in another woman to take her place has nothing to do with her?"
"That's not what this is about."
"It most certainly is. You're being disloyal to Rachel's memory."
Jake rose from his chair, his temper blazing to life. "You're a fine one to talk."
Tom's scowl deepened. "What the hell is that "supposed to mean?"
"I'm referring to Kelly."
"Kelly?" Tom strai
ghtened, his expression wary. "What does she have to do with this?"
"She disqualifies you from talking about loyalty." Tom's eyes widened, then narrowed. He took a step
back. "Nothing's going on between Kelly and me." "No?"
"Well, the way you two are carrying on, it's just a matter of time." Jake glared at the older man. "Don't you dare come in here and lecture me about loyalty. Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do."
Jake abruptly sat down and swiveled his chair toward the computer on his credenza, turning his back on the whole situation.
Silently fuming, Tom strode down the hall to his own office, where he slammed the door and loosened his tie. Damn it! He didn't understand how Jake could go off and marry that woman. What was he thinking? He stalked to his window and stared out, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. And what about Susanna? He sure as hell didn't understand how she could have aided and abetted Jake with this cockamamy scheme.
He'd arrived home last night, exhausted and jet lagged, only to have Susanna cheerily tell him that during his absence, Jake had remarried. Just as shocking had been the fact that Susanna had been a party to it.
Tom's blood boiled at the thought. What the hell had his wife been thinking? She'd not only attended the wedding, but she'd hosted a wedding dinner and kept the child overnight so Jake could spend the night alone with that woman. And Jake had evidently taken her directly to Rachel's house.
To Rachel's bed.
Tom slammed his fist on his desk at the thought. Damn it! Susanna was so besotted with the idea, the thought of playing grandma, that she'd lost all her common sense. She'd even gone and gussied up a guest bed-: room with all kinds of baby paraphenalia. And then she'd had the temerity to suggest that the child might be good for their own marriage.
"She's such an adorable child," Susanna had said. "I can't wait for you to see her. She's just what this family needs."
"What this family needs is for you and Jake to get your heads examined," Tom had curtly responded.
What the hell was wrong with the two of them? Was he the only one who hadn't forgotten about his daughter?
The intercom buzzed. He jabbed a finger at it. "Yes?"
