A Child of Her Own

by Beverly Barton

  Good. If he had to hurt like this, then she should be hurting, too. If he couldn’t find any peace, then he wasn’t going to let her find any, either.

  Breaking their stare-off, Rick turned and walked to the front door, then paused briefly. With his hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. “You couldn’t tell me you don’t want me, could you, honey?” He left the door ajar when he exited the studio.

  Lori Lee stormed across the room, slammed the door and let out a wounded growl. How could she ever have had a kind, compassionate thought when it came to Rick Warrick? The man was beneath contempt. He was every bit as vile and vulgar and uncivilized now as he’d been at eighteen.

  And heaven help her, she still wanted him, more now than ever before.

  Downing the last swig of coffee, Rick screwed the lid back on the empty thermos, then set it on the table. He looked at the ten-dollar plastic wristwatch he always wore at work. Eleven o‘clock. He’d told Powell Goodman that he could come over tonight and take a look at his restored ’Vette. Goodman had said he’d bring by a check for payment in full, and if he was completely pleased with the job Rick had done, he would recommend him to his friends and acquaintances.

  Rick had every confidence in his abilities. If there was one thing he knew as well as he knew the heating and air-conditioning business, it was cars. Especially old cars. Classics. Someday, if he ever had the money, he’d like to own a few himself. Maybe a ‘Vette, like Goodman’s, as well as a ’65 Mustang and a ’56 Chevy.

  While waiting for Goodman, he might as well cleanup. He’d already cleared away his tools and put them in his truck. Rick removed his coveralls and placed them in his gym bag, then rolled up the sleeves of his faded green corduroy work shirt.

  A car drove up outside. Must be Goodman, Rick thought. He turned on the faucets, picked up a jar of GoJo, covered his hands and forearms and began scrubbing. A car door slammed, then a second door. Goodman wasn’t alone. Maybe he’d brought along a buddy, someone who was interested in hiring Rick to restore one of his classic vehicles.

  The metal door to the garage opened. The cool March night air drifted in before the door closed.

  “Be with you in a minute, Goodman,” Rick said. “I was just cleaning up.”

  “Take your time,” Powell told him. “We’ll just take a look at my little beauty here. If she runs as good as she looks, I’ll be very pleased.”

  “Believe me, your ’Vette is in top condition. The motor purrs like a satisfied woman.” Rick unwound several paper towels from the roll lying by the sink, then turned around as he dried his hands.

  He felt as if he’d been poleaxed in the stomach. There, beside an immaculately attired Powell Goodman, stood Lori Lee Guy, breathtaking in her gold velvet skirt and matching jacket.

  “Sorry about that comparison,” Rick said. “I didn’t know you had a lady with you.” Rick surveyed Lori Lee from head to toe, his gaze lingering over the full, round swell of her breasts.

  “Hey, you two know each other, don’t you?” Powell questioned his date. “Didn’t you say he’s got a kid in one of your classes?”

  “Yes, Rick and I know each other.” Lori Lee tilted her chin regally as she looked directly at Rick. “His daughter, Darcie, is one of my star pupils.”

  Powell caressed the ‘Vette’s front fender. “My old man bought this car new and he let me borrow it on special occasions when I was a kid. Remember when I picked you up in it for the senior prom? I was the envy of every guy in the county. There I was, eighteen, driving a ’59 ’Vette and escorting Miss DHS.”

  “That was years ago,” Lori Lee said. “Fourteen years, to be exact.”

  Rick hadn’t been around fourteen years ago. He hadn’t seen Lori Lee crowned Miss DHS, but he’d heard about it. Eve wrote him on a regular basis while he was in the army, often filling him in on all the local hometown news. She’d even sent him a clipping of Lori Lee’s wedding picture that had appeared in the Times Daily. He had memorized how she looked in her satin dress and sheer veil before he ripped the clipping into tiny pieces. Later he’d gone out, gotten drunk and slept with some blond chick whose name he couldn’t remember.

  “I’d like to take this baby for a test run tonight, but Lori Lee’s not in the mood.” Powell slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her against his side. “Are you, darling?”

  Watching Rick look at Powell’s arm around her waist made Lori Lee want to pull away from her date, but she didn’t. She was not going to allow Rick to intimidate her. He had no claim on her. She was a free woman, and he had no right to look at her as if she had betrayed him.

  Powell pulled out his wallet, removed a folded check and held it out to Rick. “I’ll take your word for it that she runs as good as she looks. After all, you wouldn’t try to do a number on me, would you, Warrick? I’m the man whose money—” he waved the check around in the air “—is going to help you buy old Bobo Lewis’s business.”

  Squirming out of Powell’s grasp, Lori Lee sauntered up and down alongside the ’Vette, running a smoothing hand over the satiny new paint job. “Actually, Powell, the money you owe Rick is his, not yours. From the looks of this car, I’d say he earned every penny.”

  “Well, aren’t you a little democrat tonight, taking up for the working man.” Powell handed Rick the check. “You should be flattered that Lori Lee jumped to your defense. But then she’s always championed the underdog.” Powell gazed at her with adoration in his big, blue eyes. “That’s one of the reasons I love her so.”

  Rick took the check, mumbled a unconvincing thanks and tossed the keys to Powell. “Start her up if you’d like.”

  “I know I promised we’d be here only a minute,” Powell told Lori Lee. “But I’ve just got to do this.” He jumped in the car. “Lori Lee didn’t even want to stop by here with me. I had to practically twist her arm, and then when we got here, she wanted to stay outside in the car.” “Maybe the lady didn’t want to get her pretty outfit dirty,” Rick said. “She doesn’t seem the type who likes to go slumming.”

  Powell laughed, the loud guffaws sounding unusually loud in the large, airy garage. “Well, darling, even a grease monkey like Warrick knows a real lady when he sees one.”

  Lori Lee looked at Rick, trying to telepathically convey to him that she didn’t think and feel about him the way Powell did. She might belong to the same social set, but she really wasn’t a snob.

  But Rick’s cold, cynical stare told her that he had no sympathy for her awkward position, that he saw her for the phony she was.

  While Powell played with his expensive toy, Lori Lee could not help comparing her date with his mechanic. Powell Goodman was a handsome man, with sandy brown hair and mustache, and huge, flirty blue eyes. Tonight he wore one of his many tailored suits that fit his tall, slender body to perfection. There was an air of elegance, good breeding and old money that surrounded Powell. He was quite a catch, and she’d been told by more than one woman just how lucky she was to be dating him.

  A. K. Warrick was handsome, too, but in a darker, harder, more powerful way. He was rugged, raw and earthy, his very essence reeking of masculine strength and sensual danger. She’d never seen him wearing anything except faded jeans that hugged his tight butt.

  Where Powell’s hair was short and neatly styled, Rick’s curled about his collar in unruly strands. Where Powell was clean shaven except for his perfectly trimmed mustache, Rick’s lean face always showed signs of a five-o’clock shadow.

  The two men were an amazing contrast in opposites. Powell was the man everyone expected her to eventually marry. Even Powell thought that sooner or later he’d wear down her resistance. But as well suited as their friends thought they were, they really weren’t. Lori Lee didn’t love Powell. And she didn’t want him. Not the way she wanted Rick.

  She hadn’t realized how intensely she and Rick were staring at each other until Powell got out of the ’Vette, draped his arm over her shoulders and said, “What’s going on here? Did I miss so
mething? Did Warrick say something to upset you, darling? You two are staring daggers at each other.”

  Lori Lee laughed, the sound shrill and unnatural. “Don’t be silly. You’re imagining things. Rick’s been a perfect gentleman.”

  “He’d better be when he’s around my girl, if he knows what’s good for him.”

  The pulse in Rick’s throat throbbed. He uncurled his balled fists and shoved them into his front pockets. Lori Lee knew he was on the verge of exploding. If the situation hadn’t been so deadly serious, she would have laughed at the thought of Powell taking on Rick. Was the man insane? Rick Warrick could beat the hell out of Powell, with one hand tied behind his back.

  “Powell, we’d better be going,” Lori Lee said. “You did promise we’d stay only a minute.”

  “She’s bossy,” Powell said, hugging her close. “But I love her, anyway.”

  Lori Lee guided Powell to the exit, then paused, turned her head and glanced back at Rick. “Powell, you forgot to tell Rick about Terry Wilbanks’s GTO.”

  “Oh, yeah. At the party we attended tonight, Terry was telling us about an old GTO he recently bought. When he said he was looking for somebody to restore it for him, Lori Lee told him about your working on my ’Vette.”

  “Terry said he’d give you a call sometime next week.” Lori Lee smiled at Rick, but when she saw the cold, heartless expression on his face, her smile faded quickly.

  “It seems I owe you my thanks,” Rick said mockingly. “It was nice of you to send some work my way.”

  Lori Lee turned her head sharply, no longer able to bear seeing the anger and ridicule in Rick’s eyes. If not for Powell’s steadying arm around her, she would have fallen when she tripped in her haste to escape.

  After Powell drove her home, Lori Lee gave him a halfhearted good-night kiss at the door, pleading a headache as an excuse not to invite him in. Always the gentleman, he acquiesced to her wishes. Once inside the safety of the foyer, she slumped down on the bottom step of the staircase and cried until her eyes were red and swollen.

  The grandfather clock in the hallway struck one in the morning. Lori Lee had taken a warm bath, fixed herself a cup of herbal tea and listened to her CD of soothing chants. But nothing worked. She was wide-awake and miserable. Even Tyke was restless. He kept watching her, a sad, sympathetic look in his big brown eyes.

  She had done everything she could to keep Powell from taking her by the garage to see his car. Everything except tell him the real reason she didn’t want to go with him. What would Powell have thought if she’d told him that she couldn’t be in the same room with Rick Warrick without wanting to throw herself into his arms and beg him to make love to her? Powell would have been shocked senseless, that’s what. Lori Lee chuckled softly. She’d never acted like a wanton hussy with Powell or any other man. Only with Rick.

  Rick. The last man on earth she should want. What did they have in common except their raging desire for each other?

  Only Darcie. Rick’s daughter. The child Lori Lee wished was hers.

  The doorbell rang again and again, as if someone’s finger was stuck to the buzzer. Tyke cocked his head, raised his ears straight up and barked. No one paid a social call at such an ungodly hour, Lori Lee thought. This had to mean bad news.

  Adjusting the belt around her silk robe, she hurried to the door, with Tyke traipsing behind her. Taking the proper safety precaution, she peered through the viewfinder.

  “Oh, my God,” she murmured.

  Rick Warrick stood on her front porch, his index finger repeatedly jabbing the doorbell button. He shouldn’t have come here, especially not at this time of night. What on earth would her neighbors think if they saw him or if they noticed his beat-up old truck parked in her driveway?

  “Go away, Rick. I don’t want to see you. Not tonight.”

  “Open the damn door, Lori Lee. I’m not leaving.”

  Knowing how relentless Rick could be, she realized that sooner or later she’d either have to allow him to come in or she’d have to call the police.

  She unlocked the door, eased it open and confronted her after-midnight gentleman caller. “What do you want?”

  Hovering in the doorway, he visually explored her body, his gaze caressing her silk-covered curves. “Do you really want me to answer that question?”

  When her face paled, Rick laughed. “Thought not. Actually, I drove by to see if Goodman was still here. I figured he might be spending the night. I’m a glutton for punishment, honey. I didn’t get enough pain from seeing him touch you, from listening to him claim you as his girl or from watching him play the lord of the manor to my lowly peasant.”

  “Please, Rick, don’t do this. Not to yourself and not to me.” It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from putting her arms around him and comforting the ache she heard in his voice, from trying to erase the agony she saw in his dark eyes.

  Stepping inside, he pushed her backward, then slammed the door behind him. Sniffing Rick’s boots, Tyke checked out the man who had invaded his home in the middle of the night.

  “We can’t go on this way, Lori Lee,” Rick said. “It’s killing me.”

  She knew exactly how he felt. Wanting him the way she did and not being with him was killing her, too. She couldn’t deny her desire for him; the need was too strong.

  “We’re no good for each other,” she told him. “If we give in to what we want, we could destroy ourselves. I have to think of myself and what’s best for me. You’re the wrong answer to my problems. And you have to think of yourself, of what you’re working so hard to achieve. And of Darcie’s future.”

  “I can’t think about anything except how much I want you. Day and night. Awake or asleep. Having you so close and not being able to take you in my arms is driving me crazy.” He moved forward. She retreated. “You can run, honey, but you can’t escape me. I’m in your blood, as surely as you’re in mine.”

  “And what about Angie Clemmons? Is she in your blood, too?” Lori Lee glared at him, hating him for being able to find solace in another woman’s bed.

  “You have no reason to be jealous of Angie. She doesn’t mean a thing to me.”

  “You have sex with a lot of women who mean nothing to you, don’t you, Rick? I don’t want to be just another one of those women.”

  He grabbed her by the back of her neck. She stood there paralyzed by his heated glare. Sensing his mistress’s stress, Tyke growled a warning.

  “I haven’t had sex with another woman since the night I made love to you in the garage,” Rick told her. “You’re what I want, what I’ve always wanted.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Have you had sex with anyone since that night?” he asked, lowering his head until his lips lightly brushed hers.

  “That’s none of your business,” she said. Still holding her by the nape of her neck, he ran his other hand down her shoulder and over her breast, lingering at her stomach. He spread out his fingers over her belly, the tips almost touching her mound. “No,” she admitted. “I haven’t had sex with anyone else.”

  “I could have had Angie or a dozen more just like her,” Rick said. “Just like you could have taken Goodman or any other man you wanted to your bed. But sex with anyone else would have been useless. It would have been like giving a man dying of thirst saltwater to drink.”

  “Rick, this is a mistake.” She pushed against his chest, but the effort was weak and halfhearted.

  Tyke growled again, a bit more ferocious. Lori Lee spoke to him in a soft voice, reassuring him that she was safe. But she knew she wasn’t safe. She was in danger of losing her heart.

  Rick drew her up against his body, pressing her intimately against his arousal. “There’s no use fighting it, honey. Nobody can give you what you need but me.”

  Sucking in her breath, she melted into him, then lifted herself on tiptoe, offering him her mouth. His tongue circled her lips. She moaned. He nibbled on her lower lip. She whimpered.

  “Sa
y the words, baby,” he commanded, his hand tightening on her neck. “Tell me you want me.”

  “I want you, Rick. I want you.” She kissed his mouth. “I want you.” She kissed his chin. “I want you.” She licked a moist trail down his throat. “I want all of you.”

  Seven

  “This time, it’s going to be the way I’ve always wanted it to be. No quick tumble. I plan to stay all night and take you every way a man can take a woman. By morning, you’ll be so completely mine, you’ll never let another man touch you.” Reaching between their bodies, he untied her belt and opened her robe, revealing the front of her naked body. He sucked in a raspy breath. “God, you’re one beautiful woman!”

  A dragging sensation encompassed her body, pulling her into a silken web of promise. “Rick?”

  “What do you want, Lori Lee? Do you want me to touch you?” His big hand hovered over her breast.

  “Yes, please, Rick. Touch me.” If he wanted to hear her beg, then she would beg. She needed his hands and mouth on her body. She would do whatever he asked of her.

  He eased the robe off her shoulders, completely exposing her full breasts. Her rosy nipples peaked when he looked at them. He rubbed his index finger over the tip of one. She cried out as an all-consuming, hungry ache tightened her breasts. He rubbed her other nipple.

  As an involuntary tremor shimmied through her, she gasped several times, then released a sighing breath. She could smell Rick. Musty, masculine power blended with the fresh, clean scent of the soap he’d used when he showered.

  He smiled, loving the way she reacted to his touch. Cupping the heaviness of her breasts in his hands, he tormented their crests with the rotating movement of his thumbs. Closing her eyes as she tossed her head back, Lori Lee leaned against the wall behind her, flattening her palms against the smooth surface.

  With the sleeves of her red silk robe hanging about her elbows, the hem dragging the floor, she opened her eyes slowly, staring up at Rick with a sleepy, sexy, needy look. “I want to touch you, too.”