"Made love?"
Lucas looked him dead in the eye and said, "Yes, sir." He shifted on the bench, propping his arm on the back. "You know about my past, my parents."
Evan nodded.
"Well, I always believed I would turn out just like them. Ange knows this. With every woman I've dated, I've ended the relationship before things got too close, too heavy."
"Before you had the chance to fall in love, you mean," Evan said.
"Yeah." Lucas rubbed his mouth. "Angela made a point of reminding me about it often. She was right, I did do that. But now I know she was the reason I never let relationships get that far. And now, well, she thinks I want to marry her out of obligation or guilt. And I know it's the morally right thing to do, for all of us. But in my heart, I know it's what I've wanted since the day I met her." Lucas leaned forward and sighed back on the bench "Except now she isn't giving me the chance. Hell, she barely gives me the time of day."
"Well, then, son." Evan clapped him on the back. "We'll just sit here till we figure out a way." Evan smiled at Lucas's hopeless look. "Because nothing would make me happier than to walk Angela down the aisle right to you, Lucas."
A ripple of pleasure rolled through his body, and Luc swallowed the knot crowding his throat. His eyes burned. "Thank you, Evan."
Evan grabbed his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. Then after a moment he said, "However, I'd rather not do it when she's eight months along with my next grandbaby."
"Me, too."
Lucas looked toward the house, wondering if the women of this family were siding with her and about to gang up on him.
* * *
Elbow-deep in suds, Angela ignored the females littering the kitchen as she washed the pots and pans. She made enough noise to let them know she wasn't in the mood for talking, especially about Lucas.
But they weren't getting the hint, talking behind her, speculating why she wouldn't marry Lucas.
"Hush!" she shouted over the din of voices. "I won't marry Luc just because I'm pregnant."
"Pregnant with his baby, Angela," Sarah said.
Angela looked over her shoulder. "Well, duh, I'd forgotten about that."
Sally glanced at the other women, then slid into a chair. Sarah, Meg and Blaine's wife, Kelly, set the table for coffee, then poured.
"Angela Marie," her mother said. "That pot won't come any cleaner, so quit that and come sit. Now."
Angela let her head drop forward and sighed. Her mother had that "set yourself down and give me your side of the story" tone she had whenever Angela and her sisters had fought. Angela rinsed her hands and snatched a dish towel from Sarah, glaring at her.
Sarah smiled.
"I can still beat you up," Angela growled under her breath.
Sarah laughed, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into the chair. Meg handed Angela a cup of coffee, whispering that it was decaf.
Sally spoke first. "You feeling okay, honey?"
"Aside from morning sickness at one in the afternoon, yeah."
"Good. Now let's talk about why you won't marry Lucas."
Angela cupped her head, her elbows on the table. "This is between Lucas and me." And when she got him alone, she swore she was going to deck him. "Y'all need to just back off."
"Oh, honey, I haven't even started," her mother warned.
Angela looked up and decided not to fight it. Her mom would pester till she got what she wanted anyway. "Fine, hammer away."
"Do you love him?"
Tears filled her eyes.
Sally had her answer.
Her sisters grew silent.
"Now tell me why you won't marry this man, because in my book, young lady, he's the best there is."
She'd never disagree on that. And just to know he was a few yards away made her want to run to him, feel his arms around her. Even if it was only to argue with him, she needed to be near him. "Mom, would you want a man to marry you out of obligation or guilt?"
"Who says that's why he's asking?"
"I'm pregnant with his child. That about says it all."
"Are you telling me," Sarah said, "that Lucas never mentioned marriage before then?"
"Well, no, he did say he wanted to…" After they'd made love that first night. When she'd tried to leave.
"Well, there you have it," Sarah said, settling back in her chair and cupping her mug.
"No! Lucas never wanted to be a father. Never. Ever since I met him, he's always been glad to be with us, with this family, but he didn't want to be a dad. Heal children, yes. Have some of his own, no. It was the reason I never … pursued more than friendship…" Angela rubbed her face. "I've always wanted kids of my own."
"I know. But did you ever think that maybe he was just scared then?" her mom said, taking her hand and holding it.
"Of course he is. But I'm not about to make a mistake by marrying a man who doesn't want to be a father, has avoided marriage like the plague and has never been committed to anything but medicine."
"People change."
She pulled free and sniffled. "Yeah, well, I think he's asking because of what you and dad would think if he didn't."
Her mother gawked. "That's ridiculous."
"Is it? We're his only family, Mom."
"No, honey," her mom said softly. "You've got his only family growing inside you."
Angela blinked, then looked away. My God. Why hadn't she thought of that? And if Lucas wanted to be a part of her family, why wouldn't he want to be a part of his own?
Angela pushed up from the table and stepped quickly out the back door. Her father was walking across the yard alone.
"Where's Lucas?"
"Gone."
"Excuse me?" Panic jolted through her.
"He went home, I guess. I have to tell you, honey, he didn't look very hopeful."
"What did you say to him?"
"The truth. That if you were set on doing this alone, then he'd better get used to it."
One look in her father's eyes told Angela she wasn't getting the whole story. Men. They were as bad as women when it came to sticking together. Her daddy was supposed to be on her side.
Angela groaned, then pushed past him toward the back yard gate, running toward the street. She stopped at the curb in time to see the taillights of Lucas's car shift around a corner. Her heart sank as he sped away.
Why did he leave without saying goodbye? Did he realize he didn't want her? And just what did Daddy say to him?
She returned to the house, grabbed her handbag, kissed her parents goodbye and left.
* * *
"I know you've been burned, and you have every right to be cautious," Angela said into the station's microphone a few days later. "But what is your heart telling you about this man?" Even as the words left her mouth she felt as if she were betraying her listeners. Who was she to talk?
"He's a great guy, and I want to trust him. My heart's screaming at me to let him in. You know … share with only him."
"Could you live with yourself if you broke it off permanently?"
There was an audible groan on the other end of the line. "No way. I'd regret it all my life."
Angela felt the same feelings and suspicions pounding in her own heart. "Then you have to weigh giving him your trust, against a lifetime of 'what ifs,'" she said to the caller.
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Think about it long and hard, caller, then the right decision will be easy."
"Well, all I really know is that ignoring my heart was making me miserable," the woman said, and Angela heard the smile in her voice. "Thanks."
"Glad I could help." Angela cut the line, then turned a dial, bringing up the intro to a country song. "Thank you for calling, and you're listening to KROC radio, with AJ at Midnight. I'll be here with you till the sun rises over the low country."
Angela tapped a key on the keyboard and nodded to the producer as the soft ballad played over the airwaves. She gripped her head, her elbows braced on the de
sk. She felt like a hypocrite. Who was she to be giving advice when her life was a complete mess?
God. She missed Lucas. Missed him so much her chest ached at the thought of him and her arms throbbed to hold him. She hadn't the will to call him, for hearing his voice was like a slow kill, tearing her heart in half and making her bleed. But even if they fought, she still wanted to be near him.
And he hadn't called her.
He hadn't come over.
She was beginning to think she'd pushed so hard, he'd done exactly what she'd predicted.
He'd run.
Tears burned her eyes, and when her producer tapped the window, she only lifted a hand in acknowledgment and pressed the phone line. "Hi, this is AJ, what can I help you with tonight?"
* * *
Lucas's body reacted to the sound of her voice. Soft, husky, with a southern drawl that made his skin tingle. But he could hear the sadness there. He didn't want to make her miserable. He didn't want to feel this lousy, either, but fighting with her, hearing her deny him was tearing him apart.
Every time she pushed him away, it hurt more and more till Lucas wondered why he was putting himself through this.
Because he loved her and couldn't live without her. As Lucas lay stretched out on the sofa, Angela's voice pealed through the speakers, and he closed his eyes, wishing she was here and in his arms instead of on the radio giving advice to the lovesick of the low country.
What about them? What advice did she have for them?
He twisted on the cushions when her voice dropped to an octave he recognized. The way she spoke to him when he was pushing inside her, when her body pulled him back and clamped down on his soul.
His throat tightened.
He was jealous that everyone else was hearing her speak that way.
Lucas pushed his fingers through his hair and gripped his head. He loved her and he knew she loved him. She wouldn't be trying so hard to push him away and let him off the hook with their baby if she didn't.
But the root of it was that she knew him and every detail of his past, and she couldn't shake that he'd been a different man then. And was different now because he'd loved her.
And because of it, she didn't trust him anymore. Lucas didn't know how to regain her trust. He didn't know what he'd done recently to lose it, either.
His past, it seemed, was forever catching up with him and ruining anything good in his life.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
Angela walked briskly down the hospital corridor, heading for the elevator. She stopped short when Lucas appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.
Her heart dipped, and her gaze clashed with his. Electricity connected, jumping on a train of emotion and charging full steam ahead. Making her hunger. Making her hands itch to touch him. Making her want to see him smile, feel his body against hers.
He stepped close, his gaze raking over her face before he met her eyes and said, "Hi, baby."
She melted right there. "Hey, medicine man."
His brows knitted as he glanced toward the OB clinic. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, she just wanted to make sure."
His sigh of relief was audible.
"You left the other night without saying goodbye," she said softly. It was like talking to an intimate stranger, she thought, hating this feeling of walking on eggs.
"I didn't think you wanted to talk to me." How did they get this far apart, she wondered, and knew it was her fault. "I always want to talk to you, Lucas."
"Yeah, I guess it's just that we never agree, lately." He lifted his hand to touch her face, then let it drop.
Angela felt the loss of it like a cut to her soul. "You're still mad at me for telling them?"
She shook her head, smiling weakly. "I couldn't lie to them. Or deny you the right, if you wanted it."
Was that hope he heard in her voice? "I do," he said with feeling. "I realized that ganging up on you like that was unfair."
"It's okay. They all think I'm dense as a doorknob for not marrying you."
"This is between you and me, Angel, not them. It's our lives, our baby." Her eyes teared a bit, and he groaned. "God, I wish you could—"
He bit off his words as two women passed them, their bellies beautifully rounded with unborn babies, and Lucas's gaze followed them briefly as they got into the elevator.
"I can't wait to see you like that."
Angela was finding it easier to believe him when he was looking so sincere, yet skepticism pushed words past her lips before she could stop them. "Yeah, right."
His attention shot to her. "Don't start doubting me now, Angel," he said softly, crowding her, advancing until she had little to do but come up against him or step back. As he expected, she held her ground. It felt wonderful to be this close to her again, feel her heat, smell her scent. "Not after all this time."
"How can I not, Luc? A one-eighty-degree turn after fifteen years of hearing the same words, the same adamancy, is so hard to believe."
"I'm the one person you should believe," he said and there was a grinding bite to his tone she didn't mistake. "And believe what I say."
Her breath skipped as he encroached a bit further, but when she started to talk, to deny him again, he snatched her against him and kissed her. A hard press, a demanding, soul-consuming kiss for all to see.
Her response was strong and immediate. Just as powerful, just as throbbing and filled with heat. He crushed her against him, his hands mapping her spine, quick and rough, and penetrating her clothes. He kept kissing her till she weakened in his arms, until Angela couldn't think of anything but being with him, naked and primal.
Then, as the elevator chimed, he stepped back, his expression harsh as he pushed her inside. Angela stumbled slightly, then spun around, meeting his gaze.
Not an ounce of happiness showed in his features.
"Never doubt."
"Lucas—" The doors closed in her face.
Lucas stared at them for a minute, then turned toward the ward.
* * *
Angela missed him terribly. And being in his house, cleaning, cooking and working as if her heart weren't torn in half, wasn't helping her heartache. Yet as hard as it was to touch his things, smell his cologne, she needed to be near him. Even if it meant cleaning up after him. At least he was being less and less of a slob, she thought, then wondered if it was conscious, because she was pregnant. He never made mention of her stopping this job because of the trouble they were having, and she kept telling herself she was still here because she needed the extra cash and worked practically by rote now. But it was a lie. Just like the one she kept telling herself every morning, that Lucas wanted to marry her to keep his child from being called illegitimate.
The last time she'd seen him played over and over in her mind. The look in his eyes, the feel of his kiss, forcing her to see that beyond the great sex and friendship there was a wild jumble of emotions and doubts.
She was trying, she swore she was.
She didn't want to do this alone.
She ran the dust cloth over the coffee table, stacked the magazines, fluffed pillows, then arranged the couch cushions. One wouldn't fit properly, and when she dug in the cushions, she found a book, How To Be a Great Dad.
Her heart skipped and dropped to her stomach, and with a moan she sank to the couch. The pages were dog-eared, his last spot marked. She opened it and found notes and thoughts jotted in the margins. They were mostly about her. And a couple of name choices.
She put the book under the cushion near the arm where she'd found it and tried to block it out of her mind. But when she went to Luc's bedroom, her senses came alive with memories. His scent lingered in the air. She touched the bedpost, smiling, and her body flushed with the warm memory of their loving. Oh, she missed him, she thought, sighing. She stayed that way, her cheek pressed to the post, her arms around it, till she was nearly in tears.
Then she shook the thought free and went back to cleanin
g.
Returning to the hall closet for the vacuum, she opened the door. The thing practically fell on her. Pulling it out, she frowned at the large box tucked in the back of the closet. That's why it fell, she realized, and switching on the light, tilted her head to read the words printed down the side. A high chair. A little smile slipped over her lips. What was he up to?
Clearly she wasn't meant to find the book, but this? Well, she thought, it was hidden by winter coats. Taking the vacuum to his room, she cleaned there, nearly sucking up another book stuck under the bed. A medical book on pregnancy. She shook her head, put it on the nightstand and finished her work, deciding that the guest room could wait another day since it was never used, and that she needed to be out of here before he came home from work.
But she wanted to stay. Even if it meant arguing with him. Even if it meant hurting each other, she needed to see him, touch him. Quelling her thoughts, she turned off the oven, left a note of instructions and slipped out. She could get a couple of hours of rest before her show tonight, she thought, not really in the mood to offer advice to the lovelorn.
Not when she'd lost the love of her life.
* * *
Two days later, Angela stood in Luc's back yard, staring at the huge, plain brown cartons. She tipped her head to read the side of a box. A wood swing set with a slide and deluxe sandbox. A smile wreathed her face. Lucas would have a hard time putting that together. He could stitch a wound and save a life without thought, but mechanically, he was hopeless, and she could see him laying out the pieces like instruments for surgery. She considered calling her brothers over to help him, then thought, Let him do it. She knew Lucas. He would give it a try himself before he'd ask for help. The thought brought her up short. What was he trying to do here, with the high chair and the books and now this, she wondered, walking in to his house and out of the heat. If he was trying to convince her he wanted this baby and was ready for it, he was succeeding. But he wasn't convincing her that he was ready for marriage.
She walked into the living room and froze. It, too, was filled with boxes, a dainty crib and dresser in smooth light wood, a matching changing table, a playpen complete with umbrella. And Lord, a car seat, which was laughable because it wouldn't fit in his Jaguar.
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