Intimate Surrender

by RaeAnne Thayne

  "No." The sound was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I just felt the baby move."

  He stared at her, thunderstruck. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Absolutely." Those tiny butterfly wings quivered once more and Katie laughed out loud. "There she goes again."

  He still looked shell-shocked. "Isn't it too early for that?"

  "The books I've read say the fetus starts moving independently at around seven weeks but the first time the mother can detect it is usually between thirteen and eighteen weeks. I'm on the early side of that spread, I suppose. Maybe she's going to be a soccer player."

  "Do you think—" He paused and cleared gruffness from his throat. "Could I feel it?"

  "I don't know. It's very light, just a flicker really. But you could try," she offered.

  She felt suddenly shy when he crossed the room to her but she hitched up her shirt. He placed one of those warm, strong hands on her abdomen and Katie was overwhelmed at the intimacy of standing here with him, sharing the sweetness of the moment.

  "Is he moving?" Peter asked.

  "A little. Not as much as before. She must be tired out. Can you feel anything."

  He shook his head but seemed reluctant to remove his hand. Katie didn't mind. Even though he was only touching her abdomen, she felt embraced by him, almost cherished. Her heart brimmed over with love for him and for their child, and she tried fiercely to burn this moment into her memory.

  "We spent one night together and now there's a little life in there." His voice was low, gruff and tugged at her heart. "It's amazing."

  "I know. It's the most incredible thing that's ever happened to me."

  He curled his hand over her abdomen as if he couldn't bear to let go and she leaned into his solid strength. She didn't want to move, didn't want to shatter this fragile, wonderful peace.

  "I know this baby wasn't something you wanted," she said after a moment.

  "It was unexpected, certainly, but not unwanted."

  If she hadn't already been deeply in love with him at that moment, the sincerity of his words would have done the trick.

  Peter seemed as reluctant as she to sever this fragile connection between them. With his hand still warm on her skin, he moved to the plump sofa and pulled her onto his lap.

  This wasn't bad, either, she decided. Not bad at all. She added another memory to her precious store.

  "When I was about seven my father came home with a puppy," he said once they were settled. "Keep in mind, I had never said a word about getting one and had never even acknowledged to myself that I might like a pet until Dad showed up with the thing. From the moment I saw the little mutt, I adored him. Roscoe slept in my room until I went to college."

  His words touched her, at the same time she grieved for a little boy she sensed had never felt completely secure in his parents' love.

  "We're having a baby, not a puppy," she pointed out. "I wouldn't expect her to lick your hand or chew your slippers, at least not at first."

  His laugh jostled her a little against his hard chest. "I know they're vastly different things but the principle's the same. I never knew how much I wanted a puppy until Dad brought Roscoe home."

  He met her gaze with a tenderness in his eyes that stunned her. "And I never realized how much I wanted a child until I found out you were pregnant."

  The tears burning behind her eyelids spilled out at his words. She sniffled, more in love with him than she ever believed possible.

  At her tears, raw panic flickered across his features and his arms tightened around her. "Don't cry, Katie. Whatever I said, I'm sorry."

  "It's the hormones," she lied, then decided she was tired of untruths between them. "Well, some of it's the hormones," she admitted. "Mostly I'm just so happy you want this baby as much as I do."

  He was quiet for a long moment, an odd expression on his face. "Katie, I have to tell you something."

  His voice sounded tight, almost nervous, and she suddenly didn't want to hear what he had to say. Whatever it was, it had to be something grim with that solemn look in his eyes.

  "Later," she said. "Would you mind just kissing me for now?"

  She didn't give him a chance to say no before she pressed her mouth to his.

  He froze for one shocked second, his eyes wide, then he closed them and kissed her back with all the passion and heat that had been simmering between them for a week.

  She didn't have the courage to tell him of her feelings but she could show him this way. Her arms held him close, her fingers entwining in his hair, as she poured into the kiss all the love she ached to give him.

  They had kissed several times since he arrived at Sweetwater but every touch had been tarnished by the anger and tension simmering between them. For the first time since the night of the bachelor auction, she kissed him without reserve.

  He groaned her name and pulled her closer, so close she could feel his erection jut against her hip. "You feel so good I could stay right here forever and do this."

  "Okay," she murmured against his mouth. "But I think in three or four days we'd probably get hungry."

  "By then the Taylors will be back. We can swallow mouthfuls of Margie's delicious stew between kisses."

  Her laugh turned into a moan as he trailed kisses down her throat. All she could think about were Laura's parting words, that she didn't need to restrict normal activities.

  Did that mean they could they make love? she wondered, blood pulsing thickly through her veins. She wanted to, desperately. Her body cried out for his touch, for the heat and wonder they had found together for only that one night.

  His mouth touched the high slope of one aching, sensitive breast through the open neck of her shirt and she gasped.

  She couldn't bear it. She wanted him to touch her completely, to bare her skin and draw a taut, achy nipple into his mouth.

  "I should stop," he murmured.

  "Why?"

  "Because if I keep torturing myself like this, I won't be able to stop."

  "I don't want you to."

  He groaned and his mouth found hers again in a kiss that scorched her clear to her toes.

  Somewhere in the middle of another of those long, drugging kisses, she was vaguely aware of a noise that didn't belong, the squeak of the front door opening.

  Before she could force her numbed brain cells to work so she could figure out how to extricate herself from his arms and see why the door would be opening, she heard a terrible sound.

  A truly awful sound.

  The most hideous sound she could imagine under the circumstances.

  "What the hell is going on here?"

  Her mother's voice rang through the room like metal grating on metal.

  Twelve

  Katie scrambled to her feet, terribly conscious of her tousled, just-been-kissed disarray. She was vaguely aware of Peter rising, as well, smoothing down the shirt her hands must have rearranged.

  Oh, this was horrible!

  "M-mother. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

  Sheila's collagen-implanted lips curled into a snarl. "What is he doing here? This is the friend staying in this hellhole with you? Peter Logan?" Her voice rose on the last word until she was nearly screeching.

  "Yes."

  "Quite the cozy little love nest you have here. No wonder you wouldn't tell me the name of your mystery man."

  Katie blew out a breath. "I knew you wouldn't be pleased."

  Sheila's face started turning so purple her makeup took on a garish hue. "Not pleased? Not pleased? Have you completely lost your mind? I knew you were up to something—you've always been a terrible liar—so I decided to stop here on my way back to Portland. In my wildest dreams I never would have expected this!"

  Sheila flung each word at her like wickedly sharp rocks, and Katie couldn't help flinching.

  "What were you thinking? He's a Logan." She said the word like the most vulgar of obscenities. "Or at least one of the adopted ones."

  Peter's feat
ures had been without expression since Sheila barged into the house, but at this, his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened with anger. He stepped forward but Katie put a hand on his arm, begging him silently to let her handle it.

  If he entered the fray, Sheila would annihilate him. She fought dirty and had no compunction about kicking below the belt.

  "Mother, I can explain," Katie said lamely.

  "I certainly hope so." Sheila stalked in and plopped onto the chair opposite the couch where they stood.

  Katie didn't know where to start. She didn't want to tell her mother anything, not about the night of the gala and not about the days since. Somehow telling her mother would taint what had been the most wonderful time of her life.

  Before she could catch hold of any of her wildly scrambling thoughts in order to offer some kind of coherent defense, Sheila's gaze landed on the stack of books on the coffee table between them.

  "What is this?" She grabbed one and thrust it at Katie. "Your Baby's First Nine Months?"

  She cringed. Oh, this was a nightmare. Worse than a nightmare. Katie closed her eyes, wishing she could retreat into her safe, invisible comfort zone. It was too late for that. She had walked out of that comfort zone forever the moment she let Carrie Summers talk her into a makeover.

  "You want to tell me why you're reading pregnancy books?"

  She opened her eyes and met her mother's gaze squarely. She refused to feel ashamed about her baby and she would do anything necessary to protect and defend this child. "The usual reason."

  "You're pregnant?"

  "Yes. About fourteen weeks along."

  She had never seen her mother speechless but Sheila gaped for a full thirty seconds. All too soon, she found her voice. "He's the father? You got knocked up by Peter Logan?"

  "This is not some version of Rosemary's Baby, Mother. He's not the devil incarnate." She wasn't sure where the sarcasm came from but it was too late to stow it back down.

  "He might as well be!"

  Sheila looked her up and down with more than her usual distaste and Katie burned under the perusal. "What were you thinking, Katherine? Are you truly that desperate for a man in your bed that you'll even sleep with a Logan?"

  Though she wanted to stay calm and in control, Katie swayed a little from the attack. She brushed against Peter's chest and for the first time realized he was standing at her back.

  At Sheila's words, though, he stepped forward, his eyes blazing. "That's enough," he snapped.

  "I wondered if you were going to say anything or just stand there, you bastard. We both know damn well a man like you could never be attracted to Katie. What were you after, then? Crosby company secrets? Did she tell you any? I hope they were worth all you must have had to go through to get them."

  Katie wanted to die. She wanted to curl up into a ball of humiliation and expire on the spot. The really sad thing was, she could have written the script for this conversation with her mother almost word for word, right down to Sheila's disbelief that someone like Peter Logan would ever be genuinely interested in her.

  "Why not?" Peter asked.

  Sheila looked baffled by his question. "What?"

  "Why wouldn't I be attracted to Katie?"

  Sheila arched one of her carefully waxed eyebrows. "I've seen the women you date. Katherine couldn't even be a bat girl in your league. She wears baggy clothes and she never does a thing with her makeup. She'd rather have her nose stuck in a book than have her nails done, and she wouldn't be able to tell a Dior from a Wang if her life depended on it. I love my daughter, Mr. Logan, but you have to admit, she's a mess."

  Peter stared at her for several long moments, then shook his head, utter contempt in his eyes. "You are one first-rate bitch."

  Sheila sputtered as if no one had ever called her that before, but Peter ignored her.

  "Have you ever even looked at your daughter?" he asked.

  "Of course I've looked at her. She's come a long way since college when she was fat and had hair like Cousin Itt. But she's not one of your slinky super-models and she never will be."

  Never in his life had he come so close to belting a woman. It was all he could do to keep his hands clenched at his sides, especially when he saw how pale Katie was.

  Her hands were trembling and she looked mortified to have them fighting over her like this. He wanted to gather her close and kiss away all the pain he saw in her eyes.

  He couldn't believe any mother would be so cruel to her own child. Mothers were supposed to think their children were the most beautiful creations on the planet. They were supposed to do anything they could to defend them from attacks like this one, not be the one doing the attacking.

  How could Sheila be so blind about her daughter's loveliness?

  Or was she?

  Maybe she saw it clearly enough to feel threatened by it. The idea made sense. He had a feeling Sheila Crosby was just the kind of woman who would grind anybody she viewed as competition under the heels of her four-inch stilettos, even her own daughter.

  "You're right, she'll never be a supermodel. She's too short." He smiled at Katie who gazed back at him with wide, confused eyes. "But with a few more inches, she could walk any runway in the world."

  He laughed as Katie visibly shuddered at the image. He loved this woman. Loved her fiercely.

  He turned back to Sheila. "The first time I saw Katie, I thought she was the most stunning thing I had ever seen. Since I've come to know her better, I've come to realize the woman inside is even more beautiful than what she shows to the world."

  Sheila narrowed her gaze at him as if trying to figure out what game he was playing. It never would have occurred to her that he could be sincere, he realized, despising her fiercely.

  How could she have raised someone as sweet and loving as Katie? he wondered, until he remembered Katie said her brother had basically raised her and her siblings.

  Maybe he needed to rethink his animosity toward Trent Crosby. He had done a damn good job with his sister.

  "If you ever looked closely at your daughter the way I do," he went on, "you would see a beautiful, smart, courageous woman any mother should be proud of."

  He leaned forward until Sheila could look nowhere but at him. "If you ever really saw Kate through anything other than your own middle-aged narcissism and envy at anyone younger and prettier than you, you would also see a woman who could have any man she wants. For some incredible reason, she wanted me and that makes me the luckiest damn idiot in the world."

  Sheila's features filled with a deep rage that aged her at least a dozen years. "Get out," she snarled.

  During his little speech Katie hadn't taken her gaze from him. She looked stunned, so awed by his words that he wanted fiercely to kiss her. Wouldn't Sheila just love that?

  Katie seemed to collect herself and turned back to Sheila. "Sweetwater isn't part of your divorce settlement, Mother. You can't order anybody around here."

  "Then you kick him out! See if you can get that brain you're so damn proud of to work for five seconds and realize he's just using you to hurt Crosby Systems and the Crosby family."

  "No. He's the father of my baby and he's asked me to marry him. I—I've decided I will."

  She didn't look at him when she made her declaration—a good thing, he supposed, since he was sure someone had just shoved a bowling ball into his stomach.

  "You're going to marry him?" Sheila looked as if she would spontaneously combust any second now.

  Katie continued, "If he still wants me after he sees what kind of in-laws he'll be taking on."

  Somehow Peter found his voice, though it sounded as if he'd swallowed a cubic yard of gravel. "He does."

  She finally met his gaze, and the tentative smile in her eyes had him tumbling hard for her all over again.

  "You've gone absolutely mental," Sheila shrieked. "Wait until the rest of the family hears about this. They're going to go through the roof!"

  "No, they won't."

  Katie blinked
as a sweet assurance settled in her heart. She had been so worried about her family's reaction at learning of her pregnancy but she suddenly realized as she listened to her mother rant that Sheila was the only one in the family who would be angry.

  A huge weight lifted from her shoulders and she suddenly couldn't wait to tell the world about the baby.

  "Trent and Ivy will be thrilled for me. Danny will be, too. They love me and want the best for me, regardless of some silly feud we had nothing to do with. When they realize this is what I want, they'll accept it. Jack might bluster a little but I'm sure Toni will eventually make him come around."

  "I never will!" her mother snarled. "You can be sure of that! If you marry this…bastard, to me you'll be one of them and so will the brat you're knocked up with."

  "If I were you, I would choose my next words very carefully." Peter's voice was tungsten-hard, the threat unmistakable. As usual, Sheila didn't heed the warning signs.

  "You're not me," she snapped. "You're a Logan. A filthy, lying, son-of-a-bitch Logan!"

  "Stop right there." Katie stepped forward, her face hot from shame and embarrassment. "I'm sorry you feel that way. If you can't accept my child and be civil to Peter and his family, then I suppose we have nothing more to say to each other."

  Her mother had never physically struck her but somehow Katie sensed that if Peter hadn't been standing beside her, she would have felt the sting of her mother's hand for the first time in her life. Instead Sheila stared at her for a long moment, then stomped out of the house, slamming the door so hard the windows quivered.

  As soon as her mother left, Katie wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. Maybe if she were lucky, the force of that slamming door would collapse the roof in the next ten seconds, burying her in eight feet of snow so she wouldn't have to face Peter.

  She had to settle for burying her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm afraid Sheila can be a little, um, difficult."

  His laugh held deep amusement at her understatement. "I guess you could say that."

  "I don't blame you for changing your mind about wanting to marry me, Peter. No matter what you said to my mother, you don't have to go through with it."