by Risk, Mona
But darn, she wanted to feel a man’s warm body against hers.
Her dry throat hurt. She rubbed her neck and reached in the small refrigerator for a bottle of water. Still every part of her body could use a massage, a gentle stroke, a caress.
Oh God, I’m losing my mind.
She should try to sleep and forget her crazy needs. With shaking hands, she removed her clothes and underclothes and threw everything on a chair. The crisp temperature of the air-condition setting cooled her overheated flesh. Stark naked, she glared at the mess, she’d just created, she, the accomplished housewife. Even though no one would see it, she picked up her things and padded to hang them in the closet.
A knock on the door startled her.
“Yes?” Her voice shivered as her gaze skated over her own nudity.
“Barbara, it’s me.”
Panic vibrated through her body. “Lou, what’s wrong? Has something happened to Roxy?”
“No. I just need to talk to you. Please let me in.”
“Just a minute.” She yanked her robe from a hanger, knotted the belt at her waist, and wobbled to the door. Her hand froze on the knob. She couldn’t receive him like this. She needed underwear, a bra, and more clothes. “Just a minute,” she repeated while twirling around to face the room.
Her mind blanked. What to wear now? She rushed to the dresser, opened the drawers one after the other. Her bra was in the middle drawer, her undies in the bottom one. She jerked the belted robe over her head, slipped her undies on and hooked her bra.
“Barbara, please.”
“Yes, yes, coming.” She ran back to the closet, grabbed a dress, and slid it over her head. Darn, it was upside down. She pulled it up and reached for the next hanger. Her satin nightgown. Oh what the heck. She donned it and dropped the belted robe over it. “I’m here. With a deep sigh, she plodded to the door.
“Barbara.” Lou stepped forward and squeezed in the room, wearing sleeping shorts. The unbuttoned top revealed a shag of black hair tapering toward the elastic band of his shorts.
Her jaw sagged and her cheeks flamed. Stunned, she stared at him and then glared. “You mind telling me what this is all about?”
His mussed hair and haggard face attested to his unsettled mood. “Barbara, I haven’t slept for four days. I stay awake in bed thinking of you, yearning for you. Why can’t you come to me? Am I that awful? Do I scare you?”
She averted her gaze. “It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t betray David’s memory.”
“Your husband loved you. He’d want you to be happy, with a good man to take care of you.”
Her eyes widened. “Take care of me? How?”
“Let me show you.” He pulled her against him and covered her face with kisses. His masculine delicious scent swirled around her and fogged her thoughts.
“Lou, I’m not a one-night person.” She struggled to breathe, but a vacuum seemed to engulf her.
“Not just one night. An eternity with you.” His heavy breathing burned her neck.
Trying to be understanding, she murmured. “Oh Lou, you just miss you latest girlfriend.”
He backed up and held her at arm’s length. “Barbara, I haven’t been with any girlfriend since I met you. I kept comparing every woman to you. None had your class, your kindness, or your beauty.”
“Still we’ve been together for only a week.”
“I know you better than any woman I’ve dated for months. My dates never bother to talk to me. We go out, have dinner, and end in bed.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? Only I haven’t agreed to the last part of the deal.”
“No, Barbara. Don’t compare our relationship to that. Don’t degrade our special feelings for each other.”
“Which feelings, Lou?”
He wiped his forehead with a tired hand. “I don’t know yet. I’m trying to understand myself.”
Was he feeling the same irresistible attraction that tormented her? Was he scared by the depth of that attraction as she was?
“I’m trying to understand too.” She smiled. “But let me reassure you. You’re far from awful, and you don’t scare me.” To prove her point, she cupped his cheek. He grabbed her hand and blazed her palm with a kiss.
Fire burst in her belly. She knew she was lost. He must have realized it too.
“Darling, trust me,” he whispered against her hair. “You won’t regret it.”
His palm cradled her face and his lips captured her mouth.
Their first proper kiss.
She melted against him, her fingers hooked on his shirt. His tongue slipped between her lips, invaded, and caressed. Her own tongue met his timidly and careened joyously. All thoughts fled her.
She moaned, her chest heaving. His lips roamed over her face, and trailed blazing kisses across her cheek and along her throat. “Darling, I think I’m falling in love.”
Happy bells chimed in her ears. She heard them loud and clear.
Lou raised his head and scowled. She flinched. Was that his phone ringing?
Their eyes met. He shoved his hand in his shorts pocket and glanced at the id. “Damn. We’ll let it ring.”
“No. What if it’s Roxanne?”
He exhaled loudly. “It’s not.” He stomped to the chair next to the desk and took his call.
Barbara sat on the bed and tried to calm her erratic breathing.
“What’s going on now?” he barked in the phone with a tone she’d never heard him use.
“I sent you the money. What now?… I said I can’t come… Call 911. Go to the ER.” His voice rose with every word.
Barbara gasped. Someone was hurt. She concentrated on his words.
“Don’t try to make me feel guilty… Who’s the father? … What do you want to do Monica? Get an abortion?… Stop crying, I can’t hear you.”
Horrified, Barbara pressed her hand on her mouth. Who was Monica?
Was she pregnant? By Lou?
It was one thing to have a string of short-term lovers and another to use a woman and reject her when she needed him.
Nauseated, her heart thumping against her chest, Barbara wanted to throw up. Her tongue cleaved to her palate and she couldn’t utter a word. She remained slouched on her bed and wiped her mouth to erase the taste of his lips and tongue—a taste that had delighted her a moment ago.
“You can’t throw your problems on me now. I’m three-thousand miles away… Stop crying, Monica. Go to the hospital… Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. I promise.”
He shut his phone and rubbed both palms over his temples.
“I’m sorry for the interruption.”
“You’re not going to help your girlfriend?” Barbara snapped, her voice chilly. “She maybe pregnant with your child and you’re abandoning her?”
“My child?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“This Monica. She’s pregnant from what I heard. She was begging you to help her. And you ignore her. You’re despicable. To think…” Barbara covered her face with her hands. To think she was about to fall in his arms, to sleep with him when his former lover writhed in pain.
“You don’t understand.” He extended a hand to her. “Barbara—”
“Get out of here.” A shudder raked her and she bounced off her bed, pointing to the door. “Now.” Tears rolled on her cheeks. She was crying for herself and her broken dream that hadn’t even sprouted, and for the poor woman he’d just ignored.
He groaned. “Let me explain.”
“Explain what? That Monica is a former girlfriend bothering you at the wrong moment.”
His face hardened. “You really don’t trust me.”
“I heard it with my own ears.” Her breathing echoed his.
He heaved a deep breath and fisted his hands. His lips thinned. Anger carved his chiseled features, but his gaze didn’t waver from hers. “Monica is my daughter.”
“Your what?” The room spun around Barbara. Her heart stopped beating for a second.
“My daughter,” he repeated with dejection.
Chapter Six
“How come Roxanne never mentioned you have a daughter?”
“Because I never talk about Monica. I haven’t seen her in years. Heck, she’s not even sure she’s my daughter.” He averted his gaze and stared far away, at images from his past probably. His fingers clutched his chest.
David had done the same before his first heart attack. Almost at the same age.
Barbara feared Lou might be in physical pain. Oh God, no, please. She regretted her callous judgment. “I’m sorry, Lou. Sit down. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“A Scotch would be better. I’ll fix us two drinks.”
Carefully watching him, she nodded and sat on the bed. “How old is Monica?”
“Twenty-two.” He opened the small refrigerator and added ice cubes to two glasses.
“And her mother?” Barbara guessed the woman might have triggered Lou’s mistrust of women for so many years.
“Jennifer was five years older than me,” he said as he poured the whisky and then handed her a glass. She sniffed its pungent smell, hoping the strong alcohol wouldn’t cloud her mind. “She worked in a bar. I met her when I was in college in New York and fell madly in love, but I soon bored her. She dumped me.” He chugged half of his drink, clucked his tongue, and dropped in the chair next to the desk.
“So how—”
“Ten years later, we bumped into each other in Atlanta. You’d think that at thirty, I’d have been wiser.”
“You still held a flame for her?” In a way, Barbara was pleased to discover he was capable of loving a woman for that long.
“I was still an idiot. That’s what I was.” The bang on the desk startled her. Now at fifty-four, Lou resented his previous naïveté. “Jennifer moved in with me. But not for long. Later, she called to say she was expecting my child.”
“Ah, did you believe her?”
“Yes, and I was delighted to be a dad. I thought something positive has finally come out of our troubled relationship. You see I grew up in a very conservative home. My mother was a church-going lady, classy and generous. Just like you.”
His gaze roamed over her with appreciation. Barbara smiled at the compliment. That explained why Lou liked her.
“I wanted my child to have the good childhood I had.”
“So you married Jennifer?” Hoping he’d done the right thing, Barbara arched her eyebrows.
“She laughed in my face when I proposed and said she wasn’t ready for monogamy. I realized a marriage with her wouldn’t last long but I wanted to be part of my child’s life. Jennifer had no medical insurances so I immediately gave her a check and said I’d pay for the delivery and the baby’s expenses.”
“You were there when the baby was born?” Riveted by his story, she studied the thinning of his lips, and the sad little lines carved around his eyes.
“No. Jennifer had a knack for disappearing. She called when the baby was five-months old. I was furious to be deprived of my child’s first months and we had a fight. That’s when she screamed she wasn’t sure Monica was mine. She was sleeping with two other men at the time.” Disgust and rage churned in his eyes, now as gray as a tempest. “The girl has her mother’s looks. I wanted her to take a DNA test. Jennifer refused.”
“I can understand your frustration, your anger. But you kept contact with your daughter?”
“Only a few times over the years.” He shook his head. “Jennifer followed her lovers and only called me when she needed money.”
“No wonder you longed for a family life.” Now she understood why he never married.
“When she grew up, Monica was the one who called to ask for money. I made her promise to go to college and I paid her tuitions.”
“You’re a generous man, Lou, and a forgiving one.” Barbara ached for him. Not to be sure that his daughter was his own flesh and blood must have been a torture.
He snorted. “Guess what? Monica withdrew the money and never stepped foot in college. A real disappointment. A year ago, she told me her mother had died of cancer. Now she follows in Jennifer’s footsteps. Men, drugs, and a pregnancy to top it all off.”
“Oh God.” Barbara blessed her daughters for siding with the right crowd and not giving her too much trouble. Lou’s conversation with Monica echoed in her ears. “But she sounded desperate.”
“She was. The jerk left her. I thought she wanted to have an abortion, but I heard wrong with all her sobbing. She’s eight months pregnant, having horrible contractions and afraid of a miscarriage.”
“Where is she, Lou?”
“In a small apartment in New York. She needs immediate help. I can’t do it from here. I told her to call 911. Three days ago, I sent her five grand.”
“Lou, she’s only twenty-two. Tiffany’s age.” Barbara’s heart squeezed at the thought of any of her daughters facing such problems on her own. “She’s all alone, pregnant, sick and miserable. Even if you’re not sure you’re her real father, you obviously accepted responsibility for her when you supported her.” He nodded. “Too bad she lost her mother. Young women need their mothers at a time like that. But you can’t ignore her now when she’s begging for your presence. You should go to her.”
“I don’t see how my presence would help. I’m not her mother.”
“Lou, I can’t stand to leave her alone. Listen, if you want, I’ll come with you.”
“Are you serious? Why?” His eyebrows arched.
“As I said, she’s my daughter’s age, and I’d die before I abandon one of my daughters. Monica is your daughter and she needs help. Right now. We’ll leave tomorrow.” She jolted from the bed and clasped her hands, ready to plan.
He emptied his glass and stepped toward her. “You’re an angel, Barbara. I’m lucky to have met you.” He brought her close against him for a tender hug.
The electric tension between them had abated, but the sparkles in his eyes assured her that their passionate interlude was not ended, only postponed for a more appropriate time.
“It’s not fair to cut your vacation.” His tone indicated he had trouble swallowing the bitter pill.
In a way, Barbara was happy Lou had come to her room. Not only because she’d savored a smidgen of his ardor, but mostly because now she’d have the opportunity to meet his daughter and help him bond with her. After all, family relationships were Barbara’s expertise.
“I had a wonderful vacation, Lou. Let me thank you by taking care of your daughter. Now go to your room and book the earliest possible flight to New York. Meanwhile I’ll notify Roxanne that we’re leaving tomorrow. I just hope we arrive before it’s too late for her baby.”
****
In spite of a sleepless night, Barbara refused to let the stewardess prepare the bunk bed for her during the long trip to New York. She was too nervous to sleep and preferred to chat with Lou. He hadn’t fared any better the night before and swallowed a couple of drinks to calm his rattled nerves.
Holding her hand during almost the whole trip, he told her about his life in detail. The happy childhood with two brothers in a stable home; his dream of becoming a reporter, his ambition and professional success, and his disappointment and failures at developing meaningful relationships with women.
Barbara shared her love story with David, their struggle to build a future for themselves and their children.
“He never cheated on you?”
Her head snapped toward Lou. “No.” She lowered her eyes and fiddled with her seatbelt.
“Did he, Barbara? Don’t make him a saint now because he’s dead.”
“He never cheated,” she repeated. “I caught one of my friends kissing him in my own house, at my party, and threw her out. And I gave him a warning. I’d never forgive infidelity, never.”
“I bet he learned his lesson and heeded your warning. I wouldn’t want to lose a woman like you.” Lou kissed her briefly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Try to nap
.”
She lowered her head in the hollow of his neck and drifted off.
****
They checked in at a hotel not too far from the New York Women’s Clinic and dropped their suitcases with the bellboy. Lou hailed a taxi and gave him the clinic’s address. A moment later, Barbara dashed inside the lobby while Lou paid the taxi. At the reception desk she showed her id. “Ma’am, I’m looking for Monica Roland. She was brought to the ER last night.”
“One moment.” The volunteer typed the name in her computer and scanned the screen. “Can you spell the name?”
Barbara complied and waited.
Had Monica delivered already? Worry hammered her insides. I hope she hasn’t lost the baby. Her pulse raced like an out-of-control train. Barbara quickly reviewed her six deliveries, five healthy girls and the little boy who died at three hit by a car. Can a woman still miscarry at the eighth month in this time of medical progress?
“Sorry, Ma’am. I don’t see that name on my computer. Are you sure this patient came to our clinic?” the middle-aged woman said.
“Yes, I’m positive. Please look again.”
“No Roland on my lists.” The volunteer frowned. “We have a Monica Jackson. She arrived at the ER at 5:45 this morning. But that’s not who you want.”
“Monica Jackson, yes,” Lou muttered behind her. “Where is she? Did she have the baby? It’s an emergency.”
“Right away, sir.” An appreciative smile lingered on the volunteer’s lips.
Lou had that effect on most women. Young or old, they melted in front of him and went out of their way to help her handsome companion.
“Okay, she was admitted to ER early this morning. Two hours ago she was scheduled for a c-section.”
“Can we see her?”
“I don’t know. Go to the third floor and ask the nurse in charge. Put on these badges. Take the elevator at the end of the corridor on the right.”
“Thank you.” Lou tugged at Barbara’s hand and they rushed to the elevator.
“Why Jackson, not Roland?” Puzzled Barbara squinted.
“It’s Jennifer’s last name. I told you I wasn’t notified of Monica’s birth for five months. I tried to change the name to Roland. Her damn mother refused.” An angry grimace etched Lou’s face. “Apparently, my money was welcome but not my name,” he grunted, his breathing heavy.
