by BETH KERY
“There’s something important we need to talk about,” he said. She became distracted when she felt him press his mouth to the top of her head, kissing her.
“What?” she asked, something in his serious tone making her wary.
“We need to talk about the baby—its security, both legally and financially.”
Faith swallowed and lifted her head. She could just make out his stark features in the dim light from the restaurant.
“All right,” she said. “What about it?”
He reached up and gently removed a windblown curl from her cheek. She shivered, but not from cold, when he tucked it behind her ear and his fingers grazed her skin.
“The thing of it is, Faith,” he began, “given the circumstances, I think the right thing to do—the only thing to do—is for us to get married.”
Chapter Eight
From her stunned expression of disbelief, Ryan realized it’d been the last thing she’d expected him to say. He felt himself sinking and forced himself to rally. He’d known this particular challenge wouldn’t be easy.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
“I’m dead serious. Think about it, Faith. If we marry, I’ll have a legal responsibility for the child, no matter what.”
Anxiety leaked into her expression. “You need it to be a legal obligation to be a father to the baby?”
“No. That’s not what I mean. Of course I’ll do my part no matter what. More—if you’ll let me. But my point is, the legal contract of marriage makes things easier all around. The baby will automatically become my dependent. There won’t be any hassles with the Air Force in regard to providing all the benefits that go along with the fact that I’m a veteran.”
He saw her brows pinch together in dubious consideration at that. He pushed on. “Think about it, Faith. You have your own business. You know how expensive buying your own health care is. If we’re married, you’ll have coverage not only for the baby forever, but for yourself, as well. During the delivery.”
She bit at her lower lip, looking bewildered.
“There’s not only the legal and financial considerations,” he continued. “I’d love to say that in this day and age, it doesn’t matter to a child whether his parents have ever been married or not, but I think we’d both agree that just isn’t the case.” When he saw the doubt and anxiety lingering on her face, he threw out his trump card. He hadn’t wanted to use it, but Faith wasn’t going to give him any choice in this.
“We can get a divorce after the baby is born, if you like,” he said. He forced himself not to grimace at the words.
He was desperate for Faith to accept him into her life. If he had to resort to partial measures in order to gain her compliance, he’d take what he could get. His only hope was that if she allowed him in partially, he could eventually coax her into accepting him completely. Faith clearly had doubts about his worthiness as a partner. Given her past with Jesse, he couldn’t say he blamed her.
He just needed a chance. An opportunity to prove himself, once and for all.
He slid his hand into his jacket pocket. Her eyes went huge when he opened up the ring box. The lights from the interior of the restaurant glittered in the center diamond brilliant and glowed like a subdued fire in emeralds surrounding the band.
“I hope you like it,” he said. “I chose the emeralds to match your eyes.”
She looked bowled over.
“Are you really that shocked?” he asked. “I would have thought you were at least partially expecting something like this. It’s not like I haven’t made it clear I have feelings for you.”
He instantly regretted saying that. A panicked look entered her expression.
“Ryan, you’re just saying that because of the circumstances. You’re under no obligation to do this.”
He shook his head and gave a small bark of laughter. “I don’t feel obligated, Faith. I want to do this.”
“For the baby, right?” she asked shakily.
“Right,” he said grimly. It wasn’t really a lie. He was partially doing this for the baby. The baby was his, after all.
The baby was theirs. As in, theirs together.
He just needed to prove to Faith that she was his, as well. And just as he’d suspected, he thought as he studied her anxious face, it wasn’t going to be a simple challenge.
* * *
Faith stared at the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen and felt herself spinning. Her heart throbbed so loudly in her ears, she wondered if Ryan could hear it. He wanted her to marry again?
He wanted her to marry him?
She stared up at him helplessly, the lovely ring winking in the dim light as if to coax her.
“Ryan...I don’t know what to say.”
“Think about it, then. You can give me your answer when you’re ready.” Despite her doubts, a sharp pain of disappointment went through her when he closed the ring box and slipped it back into his pocket. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer, so that her lower belly was flush against his groin and her breasts pressed against his ribs. “But there’s one thing I should make clear. I don’t want there to be any doubt how much I want you. I kept my attraction for you buried while you were married to Jesse. I wasn’t even aware of its magnitude until Christmas Eve. I’m not going to lie to myself about it anymore. And I’m not going to lie to you.”
He bent and covered her mouth with his. He felt her small, surprised gasp, sensed the heat behind her parted lips. Altering the angle of the kiss, he sought with his tongue, relishing her sweetness. Just one taste and he found himself hardening for her, the lash of desire striking sharp, stinging nerve and flesh. He felt her mouth soften beneath him. Triumph soared through him when her tongue began to duel shyly with his. He pulled her closer in his arms, deepening the already ravenous kiss. His hands settled on her hips. He palmed her hungrily, loving how her curves fit his hands.
He pushed her even closer against his body, groaning quietly when he felt her softness cradle his arousal. He wanted her again, with the strength and heat of a thousand suns. He didn’t think he could take much more of standing on the sidelines, ravenous and craving while Faith was just out of his reach.
He lifted his head, nipping at her lips.
“I want to make love to you again. I have every second...of every day...since that first time,” he said quietly between gentle, hungry kisses on her mouth. “Tell me that you want that, too.”
“I do,” she said breathlessly, returning his feverish kisses avidly.
Arousal raged in him at her admission. “Then let’s go. Would you like to come to my hotel room? Or would you prefer we go to your house?”
It took him a moment to realize she was no longer participating as eagerly in their kiss. He lifted his head and studied her face. The uncertainty he saw there sliced through his lust like a sharp blade. Perhaps she noticed his disappointment, because her tone sounded apologetic when she spoke.
“Ryan, if you want me to consider your proposal of marriage seriously, I don’t think we should cloud the picture by sleeping together.”
He pulled her closer next to his body, making sure she knew the profound effect she had on him. “It’s kind of hard to be completely rational when I want you so much,” he said. “Maybe we could think clearer if we just gave in to it?”
She gave him a suspicious look, and then laughed when she saw his small smile.
“You can’t blame a guy for trying,” he muttered. He released her with extreme reluctance. She gathered her wrap around her and looked up at him solemnly.
“I want to think this over,” she explained. “It’s hard to do that when you’re...we’re...”
“I understand.” He sighed.
She bit her lip and stared out at the black lake. “I think I should probably go home. I have a lot to think about,” she said.
He ran his hand along her shawl-covered arm.
“I’ll be available. If you want to talk about the idea of
marriage, just call me. But while you’re thinking things over, I should return to San Francisco. There’s a lot I need to do if I intend to move the charter airline business to Michigan.”
“Do you still plan to do that? Even if we don’t...marry?” she finished awkwardly.
He nodded. “I purchased the Cessna that was for sale at the airport, and I’ve arranged to rent space there for my planes and an office.”
“Really? You’ve been busy,” she said, sounding a little numb.
“I haven’t changed my mind about wanting to be near my son or daughter. I don’t think I could stand being that far away on a regular basis from my child.” Or from you, he finished privately. If he said that out loud, she’d run scared. He’d already witnessed how skittish she could become at the idea of them in a romantic relationship. For now his best bet would be to give her the space she needed to feel confident in her decision. He touched her cheek with his fingertips, wishing he could erase the doubt and fear on her face.
“Take your time. I’ll be here, whenever you need me,” Ryan said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling up at him. Something twisted in his gut when he saw tears shining in her eyes.
* * *
Two weeks later Faith took off work a little early and stopped by the grocery store. Tonight was a special night. She wanted to make a nice dinner and there were still some last-minute details at the house that needed completing.
At around six that evening she finished making the bed in the guest bedroom, taking extra time to fluff the pillows. Her heart raced with nervous anticipation. She’d already showered and dressed in a manner that she hoped looked nice without seeming like she tried to look nice. The steaks she planned to make on the grill were marinating and the green bean, grape and pasta salad was ready to serve.
She ran her hand across the pillowcase, trying to picture Ryan’s head resting there. It seemed surreal, but it was going to happen. Tonight. Ryan had already arrived in Holland. He would be at her house at any moment.
For a period of time—it would be his house, as well.
A week after the fundraiser ball, following a great deal of soul-searching, she’d called him in California and agreed to marry him. He’d taken another week to tidy up matters with his business and put his condo up for sale. In all that time Faith hadn’t seen him. She missed him more than she cared to admit, his absence feeling like a raw ache in her belly, which she continually told herself was a figment of her imagination or quite possibly indigestion from her pregnant state.
She’d made clear her requirements for the marriage, of course. It would be in name only. Ryan could live at her house until the divorce was final—in the spare bedroom. They would remain married until the baby was born, giving their child at least the basics of legitimacy. Faith wouldn’t have cared about such a thing; her baby would be loved to the ends of the earth, no matter what legal contract had been observed or not observed at the time of its birth. However she didn’t want to deprive her baby of any of the benefits of a “normal” childhood.
Whatever “normal” meant.
She now had an inkling of what Ryan had meant about the social stigma associated with having a child out of wedlock, as much as she wished she hadn’t gained knowledge of that particular prejudice. Her parents had been stunned and somewhat stiff when she’d informed them the day after the fundraiser that she was pregnant. When she’d called them back, and informed them that she planned to elope with Ryan—the father of her baby—they’d seemed somewhat mollified.
Faith knew her parents were utterly involved with each other, their friends and their social schedule. She wasn’t offended that they’d seemed relieved when she said Ryan and she planned to elope in a small, private ceremony, and that they wouldn’t be required to fly from their cozy condominium to Michigan. She routinely made excuses for her parents’ lackluster interest in her life, and had long ago accepted the fact that Bob and Myra Blackwell were more interested in each other and their social network than they’d ever been in their only daughter. Faith described them as “deliriously happy in their golden years,” for instance, while her friend Jane was known to dub them “self-involved excuses for parents.”
In all honesty Faith wasn’t much bothered by the idea that her parents couldn’t be roused from their routine to attend her wedding. Given the facade of the marriage, she’d prefer not to have too many witnesses to the event.
She stood next to the bed and glanced around Ryan’s new bedroom suite, anxious to make sure everything was neat and orderly. Her stomach seemed to leap into her chest cavity when she heard the brisk knock at her front door.
She opened her mouth to greet him when she opened the outer door, but nothing came out. He looked amazing to her. In the two weeks of his absence, his hair had grown a little bit. It now brushed his collar in the back and fell farther forward on his forehead. Along with a slight scruff on his lean jaw and the duffel bag flung casually over his shoulder, he appeared to be exactly what she’d subtly accused him of being in the past—a bad-boy, extremely sexy pilot with the promise of a new adventure gleaming in his eyes. Or maybe the reason her brain immediately leaped to “sex” had to do with the way his dark eyes trailed over her in a preylike perusal, as though he was calmly planning where he was going to take his first bite.
She cleared her throat and forced her ridiculous thoughts to scatter.
“Welcome back,” she said breathlessly. “Or should I say, welcome home.”
He grinned—a quick, brilliant flash of sex appeal.
“Thanks,” he said, stepping into the foyer when she waved her hand and stepped back.
“Did everything go okay with your arrival in Holland?” Faith asked as she led him to his bedroom, her chin twisted over her shoulder. She was having trouble pulling her stare off his rugged male glory and nearly passed the doorway to his room.
“Yeah, all went well. Both planes are snug in their new homes at the airport, and I dropped Scott off at his new apartment,” he said, referring to the other pilot for Eagle Air.
“So Scott is all settled?” Faith asked as they hovered outside the room.
“Yeah. He wants to thank you in person for all you’ve done in helping him. He liked the apartment a lot. I want to thank you, too, Faith, for looking at some places and sending him the apartment photos and the phone numbers for getting utilities connected and everything.”
“Mari took care of some things, as well,” she reminded him, flipping on the light and leading him into the room.
“I know. We’re thankful to both of you. I’m glad Scott decided to make the move with me. He’s too good of a pilot to lose. Besides, he’s as much of a workhorse as I am,” Ryan said distractedly, his gaze moving around the bedroom and finally landing on Faith.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” he said, sounding stunned.
“You...you like it, don’t you?” Faith asked, referring to the newly refurbished bedroom.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” he repeated, looking almost grim. He plopped his large duffel bag on the bed and came toward her. “You shouldn’t have, Faith,” he admonished, looking all around the room again and then back at her. “I would have been happy sleeping on the couch. You didn’t have to redecorate a whole room.”
“It’s just new bedding and curtains.”
“And new lamps, and rugs...and was that painting there before?” he asked, referring to the framed Lake Michigan landscape.
“No,” she admitted, feeling uncomfortable under his blazing stare.
He muttered something under his breath and stepped closer. Her breath stuck in her lungs when he took her into his arms, making the action seem as natural as climbing into the pilot’s seat of an F-16.
“You shouldn’t have spent all that time and money on me,” he said quietly, his voice resonating above her forehead. She looked up slowly. It overwhelmed her a little—a lot—to feel his rock-hard body next to hers, to see his bold-featured, mu
ch-missed visage so close. “I’ll pay you back for everything you purchased.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I wanted to make it a nice place for you,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes caught in his steady stare.
“I missed you while I was gone,” he said.
“I...I missed you, too,” she admitted shakily. She ducked her head when he lowered his. She was sorely tempted to lift it again, to accept his kiss—to glory in it. Because there was little doubt, given the glint in his eyes and the rigid expression of his features, kissing her had been precisely what Ryan was about to do. She couldn’t allow their arrangement to derail from her planned course within three minutes of his arrival at the house.
“Why don’t you get unpacked, and I’ll go and get us some lemonade in the kitchen,” Faith said, backing out of his arms. Her false cheeriness stood in stark contrast to Ryan’s slanted brows and slightly irritated expression.
He entered the kitchen several minutes later. She glanced sideways at him as he bent to greet an ecstatic Topsy and ruffle the puppy’s coat.
“Look at you. You’ve grown, haven’t you, little girl?” he murmured, grinning.
It was an unusually warm spring day and he wore a short-sleeved white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. The shirt displayed his muscular arms ideally. Faith paused in the action of garnishing their drinks with lime slices.
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” she said, eyeing the only partially revealed depiction of what appeared to be a bird with outstretched wings etched on steely biceps just beneath a white sleeve.
He stood, a darkly amused look on his face. “You haven’t given me the opportunity to show it to you yet.”
She blushed and busied herself putting away the ice-cube container. It was true what he’d said—they’d been so wild with lust on Christmas Eve, they hadn’t really had the opportunity for the niceties.
