by Robin Wells
"I've been thinking about you, wanting you until I thought I'd lose my mind."
He pulled her into a kiss so hot she thought she'd melt, drawing her as close as the gear box would let them get. It wasn't nearly close enough. "Let's go in and get a room," he murmured.
. Annie's heart did a fast, giddy dance. Their arms around each other, she and Jake crossed the parking lot and walked through the brass double doors.
As they entered the lobby, they nearly collided with a short, blond-haired man. The man glanced at Jake, then stopped short, his ruddy face creasing in a smile. "Jake—Jake Chastaine! Why, I haven't seen you since our ten-year high school reunion."
. Jake dropped his arm from around Annie as if she were a hot potato. "Smitty—good to see you." The two men shook hands.
Smitty glanced at Annie with open curiosity, then looked back to Jake.
"How are your folks?" Jake asked.
"Fine, fine. They recently moved to Arizona. How are yours?"
A shadow passed over Jake's face, as if a gate had clanked shut. "They're dead."
Smitty looked stunned. "Oh, wow—I'm so sorry. When did it happen?"
"Two years ago. An auto accident. Rachel.. . well, Rachel was with them."
Smitty's mouth fell open. He rapidly closed it. "She's. . ." His voice held a question mark..
Jake nodded, his face grim.
"Oh, man. I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I've lived in Dallas for the past five years, and ..."
"It's okay."
Smitty cast another curious glance at Annie. Jake cleared his throat. "Annie, this is Darrell Smith, an old friend from high school. Smitty, this is Annie—Annie, er, Hollister."
Hollister? Her last name was Chastain now. She glanced at Jake questioningly.
"Nice to meet you," Smitty said, shaking her hand. "Any friend of Jake's is a friend of mine."
Annie smiled at him, wanting to correct the error. "Actually, we're…”
Jake took her arm and gave it a warning squeeze. "We're, uh, just going in for dinner," he interrupted.
"Well, I won't keep you. It was great .seeing you." The man shook Jake's hand again, and nodded at Annie. "Nice meeting you." His eyes creased in a sympathetic frown as he turned back to Jake. "Hey—I'm really sorry about Rachel and your folks."
Jake nodded somberly. Smitty headed out through the brass doors, leaving Annie and Jake alone in the bright, marble-floored lobby.
"You didn't want him to know we were married," she said bluntly.
"No." Jake raised his hand to his cheek. "It seemed too awkward."
"It was awkward anyway."
Jake sighed, avoiding her eyes. "He knew Rachel. We all went to school together. For me to have remarried so soon after her death. It seems, well ... disrespectful. As if I didn't love her."
An ache started deep inside of Annie and expanded outward, growing keener and sharper as it reached the surface. When she spoke, her voice came out sharp, too. "I didn't know you were so hung up on appearances."
Jake's jaw firmed into a stubborn set. "I am when it comes to Rachel."
"I don't suppose it occurred to you to just tell him the truth."
"Look—I hadn't seen Smitty in five years. I didn't feel like getting into a discussion about infertility treatments and donated sperm."
It was understandable, of course, but it didn't make Annie feel any better.
His voice softened. "You're hurt."
Annie didn't deny it. Hurt seemed like a paltry word to describe the raw ache she felt inside.
"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you." Jake's eyes were remorseful. "I just didn't think any good would be served by giving him a bunch of unnecessary details."
Was that how he viewed their marriage—as an unnecessary detail? A fresh wave of hurt washed over her. "Do you intend to keep our marriage a secret from all your friends and acquaintances? If that's the case, I don't know why we bothered getting married at all."
"For Madeline. We did it for Madeline."
Of course. How could she have forgotten? How could she have been so foolish as to think, for even a minute, that they could have a real marriage, a union with love between the two of them as well as between each of them and their child? How could she have been so moony-eyed as to think Jake might actually grow to care about her, might even fall in love with her as she'd fallen in love with him?
"Be sensible, Annie. As time goes by, it'll become easier to explain. All anyone will ever need to know is that you and I were briefly married and that we have a child together."
It made perfect sense. It was logical and reasonable. But Annie didn't feel reasonable. She felt heartsick and hurt.
It was an exercise in futility, trying to win Jake's heart. Jake would never love her as he'd loved Rachel. Annie would never fill Rachel's shoes. She would always be second best. What she and Jake had wasn't a marriage; it was an arrangement.
She'd known that, going into it. She'd been an idiot to think she could change his mind.
"Would you like to get some dinner and talk it over?" Jake asked.
There was nothing to talk about. She'd hoped that this weekend would be a turning a point, that she and Jake would become lovers, that they could turn their sham of a marriage into the real thing. Now she could see it was a lost cause.
Jake didn't want a future with her. In his mind, she was already a thing of the past. His words burned painfully in her mind: All anyone will ever need to know is that you and I were briefly married and that we have a child together.
Tears welled in her eyes. She struggled to blink them back.
"Let's go get some dinner," he urged.
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry. I'd like to just check in and go straight to the room."
"Well, okay." Jake's expression was clearly bewildered. "But I thought, after what just happened, that you wouldn't want to...."
Good grief—he didn't really think she was suggesting that, did he? She pulled herself to her fullest height. "It'll be easier if we spend the night in separate places," she said in her frostiest tone. "You can pick me up here tomorrow afternoon, and we'll go get Madeline together."
Jake's eyes were somber, his expression pained. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Annie. If I did, I'm really sorry."
"So am I, Jake. So am I."
Chapter Nineteen
"I don't see what the big deal is." Kelly looped a strand of blond hair around a long red fingernail and recrossed her legs, flashing a tempting stretch of thigh. "You've told me you haven't slept with your wife in over a year. Surely she can't expect you to stay celibate indefinitely."
It wasn't Susanna who expected celibacy, Tom thought guiltily, fiddling with a pen on his desk. For the last few months, she'd made it more than clear that she wanted him back in her bed. And she'd sure made it tempting—parading .around in slinky lingerie, making sure he caught her in various states of undress, giving him that come-hither, I-want-you look that had always made his libido work overtime.
And damn it .all, it was still effective. He wanted his wife like crazy, despite the fact he was mad as hell at her. And that, in .turn, made him angry at himself.
What was wrong with him? If he were a normal, red-blooded mart, he'd be panting after Kelly. What fifty-five-year-old male wouldn't be flattered and turned on by a beautiful young woman who was actively pursuing him?
Hell, he did feel flattered and turned on; his libido was revved up and rarin' to go, and he felt as randy as a sixteen-year-old boy. The strange thing was, all of his thoughts and fantasies centered on his wife. The closer he'd gotten to convincing himself that he was within his rights to leave her, the more his body seemed to crave her.
It must be force of habit, he thought moodily. Thirty-three years of making love to the same woman must have programmed an automatic response. If he got aroused, he wanted Susanna. Sexually, he was Pavlov's dog.
Take this weekend, for example. Dear Lord, but he'd wanted his wife over the weekend. He'd come ho
me from that golf tournament to change clothes for the evening's dinner, and he'd found her sitting on the kitchen floor, rolling a ball back and forth with that baby. She'd been laughing, and she'd looked so much like she had when Rachel was young that it had taken his breath away. It was like walking through the door and stepping back thirty years. And for a moment, all of those good times, all of the hopeful, youthful exuberance, all of the joy and fun and passion, all the best parts of his life—they were all there, right there in the room, so tangible he could touch them.
Could touch her.
For a moment, he'd had an almost overpowering urge to put the baby in her crib, carry Susanna upstairs, and make slow, fast, passionate, tender love to her. For a fleeting moment, he had been certain that if he could just bury himself in Susanna, he could bury all of the pain between them. It was ridiculous, of course—an overly simplistic solution. Besides, even if he'd wanted to give it a try, he wouldn't know how to start. He'd allowed such a distance to grow between them that he had no idea how to bridge it.
So instead of making a move on Susanna, he'd focused on the baby. He'd thought he'd feel indifferent to the child, but she'd charmed the socks off him. The baby was the spitting image of Jake, and she had such a winsome, appealing smile that it was impossible to look at her and not smile back. She'd toddled over to him, a picture book in her hand, and looked up at him with her father's brown eyes. Before he knew it, Tom had found himself sitting on the floor, the child in his lap, reading nursery rhymes.
Kelly shifted her legs again, deliberately hitching her skirt even higher. "I've registered for the New Orleans convention."
"That's a good career move. I'm sure you'll get a lot out of it."
"I hope so." Her lips curved in a slow, sexy smile. "I had my secretary call your secretary, and we're booked on the same flight."
Oh, Christ. Tom swallowed.
"I got my reservation in late, though, and the hotel is sold out."
"So where are you going to stay?"
"I'd like to stay with you."
Tom's heart began to pound. "Kelly ..."
"I'll be discreet. No one but the hotel maid will know what room I'm in."
"Kelly, it's the convention hotel. People would see us getting on and off the elevators together."
"So? They'll just think we have rooms on the same floor. No one would believe you'd have the nerve to have a lover stay right in the room with you." She smiled. "The secrecy of it will make it all the more exciting."
Tom squirmed on his chair. "Look, Kelly—I'm a married man. I can't do anything like that until I've severed things with Susanna."
"So sever them."
"It's not that easy."
Kelly shifted forward. Her jacket gaped open to reveal a glimpse of cleavage. "You'll probably find it a whole lot easier after a weekend in New Orleans with me." She ran a finger down her decolletage. "Besides, you're looking at things all wrong. If we have an affair, you'll be doing your wife a favor."
"How the hell do you figure that?"
Her lips pulled back in a kittenish smile. "You'll give her the satisfaction of being the wronged spouse. The fact of the matter, Jake, is that she'll probably be just as relieved to end the marriage as you will. I'll bet she's just as unhappy as you."
Tom tapped his pen on his desk blotter., Kelly might be right, but he didn't like hearing it.
She leaned over further, making her breasts strain against her low-cut gray silk blouse. He could see the black lace at the top of her bra. "I've been dreaming of the things I'll do to you, Tom. Of the things we'll do together. We'll have a good time. A really good time."
A knock sounded on the door. Tom looked up to see Jake standing in the doorway. Jake's eyes went to Kelly, then his mouth hardened into a tight, displeased line. "Sorry. I didn't know you had company."
A hot rush of guilt washed through Tom. "Kelly and I were just, uh, discussing some business."
Jake's eyebrows rose. "I thought you'd settled the LaMarr case."
"We did. We were just discussing the conference in New Orleans."
Kelly shot him a smile, apparently hoping to win him over. "Are you going, Jake?"
"Not this year."
Tom scowled. This was news to him, and he didn't like it—not one little bit. He started to say as much, but' Kelly rose from her chair. He automatically rose as well to see her out.
"Thank you for your time." Kelly's voice took on a professional tone for Jake's benefit. "I appreciate your advice about the conference."
"I'm sure you'll enjoy it."
"I'm counting on it." Her lips curved in a catlike smile. She sauntered to the door, her hips swaying. Tom held the door open and watched her leave.
Jake's eyebrow quirked up as he sat down across from Tom's desk. "She's chasing you all the way to Louisiana?”
"She's not chasing me, for Christ's sake." Tom circled the desk and sat down. "She's planning to attend a national professional conference for attorneys in her specialty. Which, I'd like to .point out, is exactly what you should be doing."
Jake placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and folded his hands. "That's kind of what I came by to talk about. I'm still interested in changing the focus of my practice."
"I told you my thoughts on that. As far as I'm concerned, the subject is closed."
"But I've got a way we can satisfy both of our objectives." Jake leaned forward, his eyes earnest. "We could form a whole separate division devoted to consumer law. We'd want to do it first-class, of course-bring in a couple of attorneys who already specialize in that area, and ..."
Tom leaned over his desk, the tendons in his neck tightening. "I told you no, damn it."
"Come on, Tom. It's a reasonable, workable plan."
"Not to me." Tom's fist clenched his pen so fiercely it nearly snapped in two. "This firm handles corporate law—period. Not charity cases or worker's comp or ambulance chasing. Corporate law. It's our specialty, our only specialty. It's been that way for twenty-five years, and I intend to keep it that way."
"Well, then, what would you say about me setting up a separate practice on the side?"
"I'd say you can't hold two full-time jobs and do them both justice. If you want to increase your caseload, believe me, there's plenty of work out there. I turned down two major accounts last month."
"Tom, this isn't a whim. I've given this a lot of thought. I'm burned out. I went into law because I wanted to work for justice, to make a difference, to help people. To tell you the truth, I don't feel like I'm helping anyone but a bunch of fat cats get fatter."
Tom stared at him. He hardly knew this boy anymore. He'd loved Jake like a son, but Jake had changed to the point that he seemed like a stranger.
Or maybe it was himself who'd changed. Maybe the person Tom no longer knew was Tom.
He brushed a pile of papers to the side of his desk with the back of his hand, trying to brush away the unsettling thought. "This doesn't sound like you. It's that woman, isn't it? You've let her turn you into a friggin' bleeding heart."
Jake's eyes glittered, hard and cold as ice. "I'd rather have a heart that bleeds than no heart at all."
"You're out of line there, son."
"No. You're out of line. With your priorities, with your attitude, and with your ethics."
"My ethics have never been questioned."
"Well, I'm questioning them now. I see what's going on with Kelly. I might be a bleeding heart, but I'm not blind." Jake glared at him hotly. "Neither is Susanna."
Tom's heart constricted. So did his hands on the desk. "That's enough."
"You're right." Jake rose stiffly from the chair. His voice was hard, the look in his eye even harder. "It's more than enough. I resign. I no longer care to be your partner." He strode to the door, then turned and paused. "Or your friend."
"You quit?" Annie's eyes were wide. She stood in the flower bed at the from of her house, a spade in her hand, a Chinese-style straw hat on her head, wearing short denim c
utoffs and oversized cowboy boots. She looked ridiculous.
She looked adorable. Jake's heart had done a funny little leapfrog when he'd pulled into her drive moments ago and seen her bent over, industriously planting periwinkles. She'd looked up when she'd heard the car, and the way her face lit up at the sight of him had made his pulse leapfrog again.
Madeline ran up to Jake, a plastic spade and bucket
in her hand, a huge grin on her face. "Ink! Ink!" Smiling, Jake, bent down and picked her up. "What are you going to do?" Annie asked.
"Well, first of all, I'd like to take a week or so off and spend some time with Madeline." And you, he silently
added. "If that's all right."
Annie wore a slightly stunned look. "Sure."
"Then I thought I'd explore my options. I'll network with other attorneys, talk to my old friends at the D.A.'s office, maybe visit with a district judge or two. I might even explore the possibility of teaching at a law school." "You'd be good at teaching."
"I don't know how good I'd be, but it sounds a lot more satisfying that what I've been doing lately." Annie smiled. "This calls for a celebration." "Quitting my job is a reason to celebrate?"
"Darn right." She grinned. "This is the first completely spontaneous action I've ever known you to make."
"No, it's not."
"It's not?"
"No. Kissing you was."
Annie's face turned a deep shade of red. "That's something we're better off not discussing."
"I agree. It's far better just to do it."
He leaned around Madeline and kissed her, full on the lips. The baby giggled. Even with a pint-sized chaperone between them, Jake felt the kiss all the way to his toes.
"There," he said. "Another spontaneous act."
He'd been thinking about Annie obsessively ever since he'd kissed her that night in Tulsa, thinking about how she'd told him she wanted to make love with him.
Knowing that she harbored such thoughts about him had been keeping him awake at night, tossing and turning, aching with desire. It didn't help that she'd said she was doing the same. Her words kept echoing in his mind. "I've been thinking about you," she'd said. "Wanting you until I thought I'd lose my mind."
