HAVING HIS CHILD

by Amy J. Fetzer

Angela didn't care.

  He was touching her, and that was all she could think about. All he let her think about. Thoughts of revealing her secret fled as he stroked her up and down.

  "Shift the gear," he said, and she did, not wanting him to stop, and as he pulled into his driveway, into the garage, she was ready to make love to him right then and there.

  The closing door sealed them in darkness, and in seconds he was at the passenger side, pulling her from the seat and kissing her again. The cool steel of the Jaguar met the back of her bare thighs, and the sensation rocketed desire through her with hot demand. And Lucas obliged, pushing up her skirt, his thumbs hooking the thin band of her panties and snapping it.

  Her shock overrode her desire, and he laid her back over the hood, scooped his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her. He met her gaze, a crooked, sexy grin curving his lips before he tasted her.

  "Lucas!"

  He held her tightly to him, his motions devouring and lush, his tongue darting, plunging. Her hips rocked, but he kept her prisoner, torturing her over and over, sucking the bead of her sex and making her arch off the cool metal hood.

  Then he parted her and pushed two fingers deep inside her. Angela found paradise instantly, the rip of it driving a scream from her throat and echoing in the dark garage. Her body convulsed wildly, without control, his imprisonment making her pleasure more powerful. He thrust with a determined motion, and when he felt her body calm, he dragged her off the car and pulled her into the house.

  "I can't believe you did that to my panties," she said, staggering weakly.

  "Yeah, I know," he growled, and once inside pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a ferocity she recognized. "And I need to get you out of these, too, fast." He opened her blouse, unclasped her bra, then filled his palms with her breasts.

  She pushed into his touch, driving him backward. "You, too." She worked the buttons of his shirt open as they toed off their shoes. Her blouse and bra fell to the carpet, laying a sensual trail as they stumbled into the hall. As if he couldn't wait, he pushed her against the nearest wall and kissed her. And kissed her.

  Desperation riddled him, his need for her, not just her body, driving him insane with want. He wanted her, and for two weeks she'd been shutting him out. He'd never felt more lost and wanted to be found again, in her arms, in her body, to prove to her that they were matched. Parted from her, he was half alive; with her, he was whole and human and he wanted only to hold her, look into her eyes. There he saw his future, a life he'd dreamed of as a kid.

  A place to belong.

  He wasn't letting go, ever, and as he stripped off his shirt and mashed her to the wall, his kiss told her so. He peeled her skirt down, cupping her buttocks and bringing her hard against him, whispering that he couldn't wait to be inside her, to feel her body cradle him.

  "Then we need less clothes." She kicked her skirt aside, then opened his trousers, her moves hurried with the thrill of passion. Her hand closed over him, and he groaned loudly, thrusting into her palm as he rubbed her breasts.

  She slid down the wall, taking his trousers with her. Then she wrapped her hand around his arousal and took him into her mouth.

  His mind went blank.

  He could barely stand, his hands braced on the wall above her as every touch, every pass of her tongue sent him further and further out of control. He knew he was groaning like a wild man, but he couldn't help it.

  "Angel, Ange, honey."

  She merely strengthened her motions, holding him prisoner to her sweet assault.

  He was going to lose it. And he gripped her under the arms, yanking her upright. He was on her in an instant, his kiss devouring her mouth, her breasts.

  Wild. Primal.

  He backed up, dragging her with him, against him as he added his trousers to the scatter of clothing. Mouths plundered, hands groped with frenzied passion, rediscovering, memorizing.

  In his bedroom they didn't stop.

  He swiped a foil packet off the dresser, tearing it open as he pressed her against one of the four bedposts. She gave it a fleeting glance, a little niggle of guilt hitting her as he donned it … until he closed his lips around her nipple and drew it into the heat of this mouth.

  All thoughts fled in the heat spiraling through her like a rushing river, spreading to her fingers and toes. He trailed kisses down her body, the curve of her hip, pausing to kiss and stroke her softness before turning her around and marking a path over her buttocks, her spine. Angela dropped her head back, clutching the bedpost as his fingers dipped between her thighs. She pushed against him as he played her body like a well-strung violin, drawing her tighter and tighter.

  "Lucas, please." She pushed against his arousal.

  The moist heat of her sent surges of anticipation through him as she lowered slightly. Open, vulnerable.

  Trusting.

  He filled her, deep and thick, gripping her hips and slamming his eyes shut. Completion swelled through his being, stealing his breath. A turmoil of emotions melted with passion, and he withdrew, long and heavy. She moaned, almost a purr, and he answered her, throbbing as her delicate muscles went hard, fisting him in a tight glove of desire.

  Angela pulsed shamelessly, wanting his boldness, needing him more desperately in this moment than ever before. It wasn't enough; it was too much. She felt as if she were coming apart, the seams of her soul splitting as she rushed to keep them together.

  Lucas felt her impatience, the build straining his own muscles, and he clutched her, shoving and shoving and wanting this to never end. Suddenly he withdrew, and her cry of frustration was smothered beneath his mouth as he turned her in his arms and lifted her.

  He pushed smoothly home, lowering her to his bed, never breaking tempo, driving, driving. He cocked one leg slightly, braced above her, and smiled into her beautiful eyes.

  He thrust hard, and her gasps tumbled into his mouth.

  "You're mine, Angel. You always have been," he whispered. "You always will be."

  "Yes," she murmured against his mouth. "Yes. Always. Oh, Lucas."

  Bodies met and parted.

  Opulent waves of pleasure buffeted them with each thrust, and in his ice-blue eyes she saw his heart, read the depths of his soul. And she gave him hers on the lake of wrinkled sheets.

  Primal with emotions.

  With unbridled passion.

  Feminine muscles clamped like a vise, and he surged into her. She gasped for her next breath, the pulse of luxurious ecstasy breaking as she thrust her hips upward and locked her legs around him.

  They ground against each other, rocking, rocking, the splintering passion shooting through her, hard and tense and tingling. She watched his pleasure erupt on his features, heard his breath skip and stall. Yet he never broke eye contact, even as he lengthened and throbbed hotly inside her, even as his climax crushed through him and into her.

  They shuddered together, a union binding them.

  "Angel. Oh, Angel."

  "I know, darlin'. I know." It stunned her every time he made love with her. The power and need scrambling wildly inside her, sensations folding over one another and rushing for a release that only he could give.

  And as they kissed, both clinging with the same desperation, she didn't want this time to end, didn't want reality and the world to enter this bedroom. For it would bring their problems back, and she'd have to reveal the secret kept safely inside her body.

  * * *

  Lucas dozed lazily, smiling to himself. He could hear Angela searching the house for her clothes and cocked one eye toward the door as she walked in. She was wearing his shirt and looked incredibly sexy in it.

  She threw his slacks at him. "I haven't any panties."

  He grinned. She looked so cute, her hands on her hips, his shirt open and exposing the cleft between her breasts and the soft curls between her thighs. Why did she bother? "Didn't I tell you it was my fantasy to leave you pantyless when you're around me?"

  "What difference do th
ey make since you have me out of them so quickly?"

  He chuckled. "Then don't wear any, ever."

  She eyed him as she snapped out her skirt, frowning at the wrinkles. "I'm going to look like the town tramp going home like this."

  "No, you're not. You're going to look like a woman who's been loved all afternoon." He patted the space beside him. "Stay."

  She didn't look at him, shaking her head as she inspected her blouse, which was only slightly less wrinkled. "I have to go into work early and do some promo spots for a new sponsor." Stripping naked, she put on her bra, then her blouse,

  Lucas noticed her hands were shaking as she stepped into her skirt. And that she wouldn't look at him.

  "Angel?" He left the bed, pulling on his chinos before he crossed to her.

  "Yeah?" She zipped her skirt, tucked in her blouse.

  Then he remembered how this day had started, with them talking out their problems. He stepped close, tucking two fingers under her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. "Talk, Ange. I can feel something bottled up inside you."

  Angela knew this was the moment she'd dreaded. "I was supposed to have the first procedure this week."

  His features tightened. "I take it you didn't?"

  She shook her head.

  He knew how badly she'd wanted this, and something awful slithered through him just then. "How come?"

  "I'd changed my mind. Amazing, huh?" She laughed shortly, and Lucas didn't hear a bit of humor in her tone. "After all my talk I couldn't do it, not at the risk of losing you."

  Lucas was at once pleased and sad. He was keeping her from having what she desired because of his desire not to be a father.

  "I want a life with you, Lucas, and if I'd gone through with it. I knew I'd lose you."

  "Aw, baby, you wouldn't. Nothing is going to stop us from being together. We just have to find a solution."

  His earnest tone broke her heart, and she looked away. "I had hoped so."

  He frowned. "There's something else you're not saying, I can feel it." She lifted her gaze to his, and the sorrow he saw there kicked him in the chest. "Tell me. My God, you look as if someone is dying."

  "When the doctor came into the office with the routine test results, I'd already made up my mind. I was leaving to come see you." His expression said he believed her. "Then she gave me the test results and—" she held her breath, then burst with "—it was too late. I'm already pregnant."

  He stared at her as her words sank in. "Pregnant? But if you didn't have the procedure then…" His features went slack.

  "We made this baby, Lucas." She swallowed. "This child is yours."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  A half dozen emotions passed over his features. Shock, wonder, pleasure, then fear.

  "Oh, God."

  "Well, that wasn't the reaction I was hoping for," she said, "but it was the one I expected."

  That rankled him. "How long have you known?"

  "A couple of days."

  "And you didn't think to tell me!" he raged.

  "I am telling you now, and it took a while for me to get used to the idea, too, you know."

  "With anything else you would have come to me instantly."

  "Sure, but not when I knew how you felt. You don't want this baby."

  He met her gaze. A fist tightened around his heart. "That's not true."

  "Really?"

  "I want you, and the baby comes with you."

  Want you? When would he ever admit he loved her? "Well, duh, there's a stretch."

  "Damn, Ange. Give me a second." He pushed his fingers through his hair. "It's not every day a man hears those words."

  "And you were hoping never to hear them, I know that."

  Tears glossed her eyes, and Lucas felt slayed where he stood. "What's done is done. We'll get married right away."

  "The hell we will."

  He blinked, shocked, then recovered. "Why the hell not?"

  She scoffed. "I'm not marrying you because of a baby, Lucas. I had planned all along to raise my child alone."

  "Our child." His eyes narrowed. "So I don't matter? All you care about is this baby?"

  "How can you ask that? I wouldn't be feeling torn in half if I didn't love you so much. For heaven's sake, Lucas, the only child I ever wanted was yours but I knew how you felt. It's the reason I never wanted to cross the line with you all these years. I valued your friendship more than my needs. And I, at least, remembered every time you said you didn't want to be a father."

  "Dammit, Ange. You've got to marry me. Think of your parents, your sisters and brothers."

  "I am thinking of all of us. And I don't want you because of guilt or obligation."

  "It's kind of hard to get around those points, you know." He wished the words back the instant they left his lips.

  Her brows shot up, hurt clear in her eyes. "Exactly," she said, and her voice broke.

  It killed him to hear it. "Aw, honey, listen to me," he said, gripping her shoulders when she tried to move away. "I'm not sorry we've made love, Ange. I don't regret a second of being with you."

  "Oh, Lucas," she moaned. "I don't, either, only that it's brought us to this. And it looks pretty grim from my point of view."

  "It's not. I want to marry you."

  She shook her head. "You'd be doing it because you feel you have to, not because you want to. I don't want that for us. I'll be just fine on my own."

  "That's my child inside you." A little burst of joy skipped through him at his own words, surprising him to the core. "I have rights."

  "Possession is nine-tenths of the law." She pulled free and headed for the door.

  "Oh, no, you don't." He stopped her.

  Angela batted at his hands. "No, don't touch me."

  He wrapped his arms around her anyway, holding her till she stopped squirming. "We can't be enemies over this, Ange. I won't let it happen." She moaned and sank further into his embrace. "Now, why won't you marry me? Be honest."

  Her forehead pressed to his chest, she muttered, "Because you've never been committed to anything in your life except medicine. I've seen proof."

  That was problem number what? Four? Five, he thought. "And if I said I wanted this baby?"

  She looked up, shoving out of his arms. "Oh, that is the biggest lie of all. For fifteen years you've been telling me you don't want to be a father, Lucas." She paused thoughtfully, then asked, "But if you were so all-fired determined not to be a dad, why didn't you have a vasectomy?"

  Lucas stammered, unsure himself, but Angela went on without stopping.

  "I'll tell you why. Because somewhere deep inside you, you did want a child. And that scares the hell out of you."

  Lucas stood rock still, feeling like she'd just hit him dead in the face. Why hadn't he done something permanent? Then he looked at her and knew why. Hope. A thread of hope. But the words wouldn't come off his tongue.

  "You don't have to be in this child's life and risk that you just might abandon him," she said sarcastically. "Abandon us." Her voice faltered and her lower lip trembled. "And you don't have to tell anyone you're the father, either. My sister Sarah is the only one in the family who knows that I was going to be artificially inseminated. I can just tell the rest of them that."

  Anger crushed over his spine and exploded in his features. "You don't think I wouldn't admit to my own child! Damn you, Angela. Since when have you thought so little of me?"

  Hurt shone in his eyes, and Angela's heart cracked all over again. But the truth spilled easily. "Since I knew I was the only one in love in this relationship."

  She walked out. Again. Lucas stared at the empty doorway for a second, then bolted after her. She was in the garage, the door rising, the engine to his car revving.

  He rushed to the side of the car. "Ange, wait…"

  "No, Lucas," she said over hard, gut-wrenching sobs. She wouldn't even look at him. Then she stepped on the gas and gunned out of his driveway. Lu
cas watched as she made the corner like a pro, then glanced across the street as his neighbors gawked at the barefoot, bare-chested doctor.

  He went into the kitchen and fell into the nearest stool, cradling his head.

  He was going to be a father.

  He wasn't angry, just shocked, more so that she didn't want him to tell anyone and that she was trying to cut him out. Well, hell, he thought, she knew better than anyone how scared he'd been that he'd turn out like his parents. But he'd stuck with her, and if she thought he was going to accept this "I can do this alone" garbage, she was in for a big surprise.

  Possession might be nine-tenths of the law, but a father had rights.

  As soon as that thought passed through his mind, he groaned, pushing his fingers through his hair. He didn't want to fight with her. Nor be her adversary. She was having his baby, for heaven's sake. Their baby. And he might not have wanted to be a father, but what was done was done. They were going to be parents, a mom and dad.

  Angela would have no trouble being a great mother, but the only fathers he'd ever known well were her brothers and her father, Evan. What would her parents say? He was the favored friend of the family, but was he good enough for their daughter? He had a checkered past and no lineage to speak of. And they all knew he didn't hang around relationships for long.

  And what about her father, Evan? Lucas hated to disappoint the one man he respected above all others.

  Lord, he thought. Her brothers were going to kill him.

  * * *

  Lucas rarely worked in the well-baby clinic, but he felt compelled to be here. He loved kids, all of them. Maybe too much, he thought. But inside he felt as if he were incapable of anything more than medical attention and bedside manner. Which had been sadly lacking in the last three weeks.

  Lucas held the infant close to his chest as he brought her to her mother. "She's in perfect health," he said, laying the baby in her mother's arms.

  The father stood behind her and sighed audibly. "Thank God. We'd waited so long to have her."

  The new father met his wife's gaze and laid his hand on her shoulder.

  The look that passed between them was familiar to Lucas in that he'd seen it often, yet he couldn't quite grasp the meaning behind it until now. They'd made a child out of their love. Wanted the baby in their lives. And he wondered what his life would have been like if his parents had wanted him. Suddenly an old memory pierced his thoughts. Him, standing on the steps of the school, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and at the time he hadn't known it had been filled with his clothes. The instant he'd looked inside to get his papers and pencil for class, he'd known his mother wasn't coming back. He'd agonized all day about where he would go, where he could hide so people didn't know that his mother hadn't loved him enough to want him in her life. And the feeling of worthlessness and abandonment had clung till Angela had walked into his life.