by Diana Palmer
“With that gorgeous Tammy on your arm,” she recalled.
“Window dressing. My shield, to keep you from seeing how hooked I really was. In fact, I was hooked in Atlanta. I just convinced myself that it was only physical.”
“You had me convinced, too, after opening night,” she said dryly.
He shook his head slowly, watching her. “I thought I was going to die when you told me you were pregnant. I was sure it wasn’t mine. But I was equally sure you hadn’t cheated on me. It made for some interesting mental exercises in logic. Finally, I decided that if I loved you, truly loved you, trust was the proof of it. And just when I was ready to tell you that, you stopped caring. At least, you stopped listening. I went off to write my screenplay, to show you I meant it, certain that you hated me by then. And all of a sudden, there you were on my doorstep, saving me from certain dissolution.” He smiled. “Then I knew there was a little hope left, so I started chasing you. And got explosive results.”
She remembered that feverish lovemaking, the sweetness of finally knowing she was loved. Reading the screenplay, realizing what she meant to him…her eyes went soft with memory.
“The only regret I have,” he continued, “is that I didn’t marry you in the very beginning. Your parents are still a little unhappy about the sequence of things, and I can’t say I blame them. Kate won’t be allowed to sleep with men until she’s married,” he added doggedly. “And society be damned.”
“Why, just listen to you!” she chided. “Just listen! How pious you’ve become!”
“It’s your fault. Who’s been dragging me to church every Sunday. Which reminds me,” he glared at her, “does Bartholomew have to come with us?”
“He’s getting older,” she reminded him. “It’s hard for him to find the cab fare. Besides, you know he adores his goddaughter.” She traced a pattern on his chest, watching his breathing change. “Besides,” she murmured demurely, “now there’ll be another christening. Somebody has to stand up with us.”
He stayed her wandering hand. “I suppose so.” He looked down at her relaxed body wonderingly. “It must be the water,” he decided. And then he ruined it all by grinning so smugly that she burst out laughing.
“Twice,” he chuckled, his eyes full of masculine appreciation. “Damn, I’m good!”
“Are you really?” she whispered, lifting up to put her mouth softly to his. “Prove it.”
His breath was coming roughly now as his hands smoothed over her taut breasts, over the hips that cradled his child. “My pleasure,” he breathed. His mouth parted, biting warmly at her lips, arousing her madly. “What a pity,” he whispered, “that you got rid of all your maternity things.”
“But I didn’t,” she grinned, and laughed at his stunned expression.
“You kept them?”
“Well, you might not have expected this, but I did,” she told him. “I believe lightning can strike twice.”
His face radiated love and laughter. “Do you? Then I guess I can believe in angels. I certainly married one,” he whispered against her warm, soft mouth. “You, and two babies. That’s heaven on earth to me, all right.”
She laughed under her breath and curled up against him as his mouth made slow, sensuous love to hers. Before the feeling burst through her thoughts, she was picking out names. Boys’ names…
eISBN-13: 978-1-4603-4538-2
LovePlay
Copyright © 1985 by Diana Palmer
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