by Lucy Ryder
Clearly taken aback by her vehemence, Dylan hardened his jaw. “You should have told me yourself.”
“Why? Because we slept together?” She abruptly cut off the rest of her words because they still had an audience. Oh God—his mother was listening with rapt attention to their exchange.
Face flaming, Dani rose unsteadily to her feet but when she took a step away from him Dylan grabbed her hand and yanked her back to the sofa.
“Dylan!”
“Sit,” he ordered, pressing his fingers to her pulse. “I’m worried about you. When last did you eat?”
Her tongue snaked out to dampen her dry lips and instantly the older woman was there, offering a glass of water. “I’m fine,” she repeated, taking the glass. “But thank you,” she said quietly. “For your concern.”
“Yes, Mom, thanks—but you really should get back to the ball. Aren’t you in charge of proceedings?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, darling,” the older woman said, brushing aside his concern. “Janice Hetherington will take over.”
“No, please,” Dani said, her fingers tightening around the glass. “Mrs. St. James, I insist. I’m just sorry you had to witness—” She licked her lips nervously and slid her gaze sideways to include the man at her side. “Well...that. I’m sorry I ruined your function.”
“Call me Vivian, dear. And you haven’t ruined anything. Besides, you have nothing to apologize for,” Dylan’s mother declared firmly. “It was all Richard.” Her eyes went to her son. “And maybe Dylan too. But,” she added, when Dani opened her mouth to leap to his defense, “if he hadn’t punched him, I would have.”
To say Dani was shocked by the swift rejoinder was an understatement but the glint in the older woman’s eye told her she would have done it if her son hadn’t beat her to it.
Vivian St. James’ eyes bounced between Dylan and Dani for a couple of beats before she sighed. “Fine, I know when to make a graceful exit. But,” she said, pointing a slender finger at Dylan, “I expect you to bring Dani to meet your father.”
And with that she dropped a gentle kiss on Dani’s upturned cheek, arched a peremptory brow at her son and left the room in a swish of skirts.
For several moments Dani stared at the closed door, before turning to see Dylan watching her with an odd combination of concern, satisfaction and amusement.
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“My mother likes you.”
She puffed out her red cheeks. “I have no idea why—I embarrassed her.”
He chuckled. “No, I did. But since I brought you along she’ll forgive me.” His hand was warm and gentle as he cupped her chin and tilted it up. “You’re still looking a little pale. What’s up, Dani? Talk to me.”
Unable to handle the gentle concern and the look in his eyes, Dani pulled away and rose. She needed to put a little distance between them before she forgot they were only having a wild affair.
She inhaled carefully. “Like I said, it’s probably just a virus or something.” She smoothed unsteady hands down her dress and aimed a shaky smile in his direction. “I like your mother.” She bit her lip and pressed a hand against her stomach. “But maybe it would be better if I left.”
With a muffled curse Dylan surged to his feet and took a step toward her, coming to an abrupt halt when she sucked in a startled breath and stumbled backward into a nearby chair. She threw out a hand to catch herself before she took another tumble and added to the evening’s humiliation.
* * *
“Why do you do that?” he demanded. “Why do you pull away just when I think we’re getting somewhere?” He knew he sounded frustrated and bewildered.
She licked her lips nervously and edged toward the door. “Dylan—”
Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets, the abrupt movement filled with frustration. “I’d never lift my hand to a woman, so you can just stop right there. I’m not like your ex.”
Dani’s spine snapped straight. “I didn’t say you were,” she shot back.
Dylan was pleased to see angry color flood her pale cheeks, a sparkle replacing the remoteness in her eyes.
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
Anger, he decided, was preferable to that wounded wariness that made him want to find her ex and break his nose all over again. And maybe a few other bones as well.
“It’s hard not to when you seldom put any there yourself.”
She sucked in a harsh breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He sighed, turning away. It wasn’t her fault that he wanted more than she was prepared to give, and beating at her with his exasperation would only cause her to withdraw even more. “I’m just wondering why you never told me what he did.”
“You expect me to spill my guts just because we s-slept together?”
Annoyed, Dylan shoved a hand through his hair, wincing when his swollen knuckles protested. “No...” He sighed again. “But I might have handled the situation better, handled you better, if I’d known.”
“What makes you think I need you—or anyone—to ‘handle’ me?” she demanded. “I can handle myself, Dylan. I’m an adult. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me.”
Her unspoken words, I don’t need anyone, hung in the air between them and he wondered if she really believed it. If she did, he’d have a hard time convincing her to trust him.
Frustrated, he flung words over his shoulder. “I couldn’t just stand by and let him slash at you like that, Dani.” He faced her and demanded, “What kind of man would do that?”
Her body slowly lost its rigidity and she had the grace to grimace in apology. “I’m embarrassed,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around her torso as her gaze slid away. “I humiliated myself.” Her chin lifted. “I embarrassed your mother and now you...you—” She pressed her lips together.
“And now I what?”
She spun away, the rigid lines of her body radiating new tension. “Richard isn’t the kind of man who handles humiliation well,” she snapped over her shoulder. “He’ll—”
“I know exactly what kind of man he is,” he interrupted smoothly, annoyed that she would think the lawyer had intimidated him.
“He’ll do what he says,” she added, as though he hadn’t spoken. “He’ll pad the truth and come up with a dozen witnesses to corroborate his lies.”
“I don’t care about him, Dani. I care about you. And I care about what he said that had you fainting in the bathroom, that upset you so much that you’re repairing those walls around you faster than I can tear them down.”
His hands settled on her shoulders. He felt the bones delicate and fragile beneath his hands. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and wished she would lean on him, take what he offered.
“What hold does he have on you?”
* * *
Dylan’s hands were warm, firm and gentle as they cupped her shoulders. His touch, the deep tone of his voice, made her eyes sting with longing. It would be so easy to lean on him, to take what he offered.
But she couldn’t. Didn’t dare. Because...because she wanted it too much. And wanting things too much was a sure-fire way to get her heart broken. But he was there, so steady and strong that she couldn’t resist turning into him.
“He doesn’t,” she murmured, sliding her hands up to his shoulders to tunnel unsteady fingers through his hair. “Not anymore.”
With her eyes on his she lifted onto her toes, her body sliding against his as she pressed a soft, tentative kiss to the corner of his mouth. For just an instant he resisted. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to argue but then he gave a low, agonized groan and wrapped his arms around her in one jerky movement. His mouth, hard and seeking, closed over hers in a searing kiss that belied the abrupt strength in his arms, the tension in his body.
This, she thought with a shiver of excitement, was all she could give him.
“Come home with me,” he said, and groaned, his hands urging her closer, as though she was infinitely precious and fragile, smoothing a path up the length of her back, his body vibrating with heat and urgency.
She could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm and wondered if he felt what she did—a sense of rightness that scared her even as it made her yearn for what could never be.
With a rough growl he dragged his lips along the line of her jaw. “No...upstairs. I...can’t wait.”
Dani, lost in the pleasure of his mouth, fought with the buttons of his waistcoat and then his shirt. “Here,” she demanded, shoving her hands between the plackets to slide them over his hot skin. “Now.”
With a savage curse he swept her off her feet, and together they dropped onto the sofa against the wall. He shoved a thigh between hers.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he rasped against her lips, before taking her mouth in a kiss that was abruptly impatient. “I want this...you.”
And, thrilled by this new dark edginess, Dani lifted her mouth to his and gave him everything.
* * *
Sagging against the bathroom wall, Dani swiped the back of her shaky hand across her mouth. It was the second time she’d lost the contents of her stomach in the past twenty-four hours, and she couldn’t remember how often she’d lost them over the past few weeks.
Maybe it was time to admit it probably wasn’t a virus, or even stress. Maybe it could still be stress, she admitted with a grimace. They hadn’t yet heard from Richard, and that usually wasn’t a good thing. But, although the waiting was exhausting, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as waiting for Dylan to lose interest and dump her for someone more suitable. Someone more beautiful, more exciting, more...everything.
Someone not likely to embarrass him in public.
Although, she admitted reluctantly, he seemed to be showing no signs of losing interest. Instead, every day he seemed to be...more. More patient, more passionate, more... God...more tender, she thought with a delicious shiver. He touched her more often—and not just during sex—as though he wanted her to know he was there. Wanted her to get used to the weight of his hand, the heat of his body, even in a crowd of people.
And he’d made her crave him, she admitted with a touch of panic. Crave the way she’d awake locked in his arms. Crave being with him. And if that didn’t scare her enough, the way he kept hijacking her thoughts did. She thought about him at the most inconvenient times and she hated it. Hated it that he’d come to mean so much...
Oh God, she was in trouble. The kind that could break a girl’s heart if she wasn’t careful.
But Dani had learned the hard way to be very careful. Careful not to let the expression in his eyes and the touch of his hand as it smoothed the length of her spine affect anything more than her senses. And she was being extra careful with her heart, which was locked up tight and safe.
And that was a good thing. A very good thing. Or she’d be—
“So...” An annoyed voice interrupted her panicked thoughts. “When are you going to stop hiding in the supply room or the bathroom and tell me what’s going on?”
Dani opened her eyes to see two sneakers beneath the stall door—one propped over the other as though their owner leaned casually against the wall. She groaned. Amy gave new meaning to the word persistent.
She rolled her head against the wall, too exhausted to shove at the damp hair that had fallen into her face. “I’m fine,” she rasped through her burning throat.
The nurse muttered a succinct curse. “You’re still sick, aren’t you?”
Yeah, a little voice answered, love-sick.
No, no, no! she denied, aghast. Nothing of the sort. She was just a little stressed. Waiting for Richard to strike always made her tense.
“Of course I’m not sick,” Dani scoffed weakly because it was patently obvious to everyone that she hadn’t been herself lately. “I’m just hoping to escape your endless questions. I’m fit as a fiddle.”
Her friend made a rude sound in the back of her throat. “Then you won’t mind getting checked out by Rachel.”
Rachel, an ER physician in her fifties, was the shift supervisor.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amy.”
Dani impatiently brushed her suggestion aside and pushed to her feet. Cursing the exhaustion that made her want to lie down and sleep for a week, she opened the door.
“I don’t need to see Rachel or anyone else. I’m just feeling a little under the weather, that’s all.”
“Okay,” the nurse said.
She sounded so agreeable that Dani relaxed as she headed for the row of basins to wash her hands and rinse her mouth. Too soon it seemed, because then came Amy’s next words.
“If you won’t see Rachel, then I want you to use this. Right now.”
Dani sent a frowning look over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw the slender box her friend held out.
“Seriously?” she demanded with a snort. “You want me to pee on a stick?”
Blue eyes stared back, level and serious. “Yes.”
Dani rolled her eyes and pulled off a strip of paper toweling to dab her face. “You know that’s not possible.”
“Because you have Asherman’s?” Amy asked mildly. “Or because you haven’t been getting any with a certain gorgeous orthopedic surgeon?”
Dani quickly looked around the bathroom, relieved to see it was empty. “Well, because... Because...” she stuttered, then snapped her mouth closed when she couldn’t think of a single reply other than You know why.
She turned away, pretending she was on top of things when the truth was she felt as though she was going down for the third time.
“Unprotected sex?” Amy yelped.
Dani gave a guilty start. A quick look over her shoulder showed her friend staring at her with open-mouthed shock.
“Seriously?” She shook her head as though to dispel the image. “Are you insane?”
Face flaming, Dani squawked, “A condom broke and then...and then we didn’t...um...” She rolled her eyes and snickered, because she couldn’t help feeling like a teenager facing her mother after being caught having sex in the sitting room. “We...um...didn’t bother after that. Mom.”
Amy snorted. “Let’s forget the safety issues for just a moment, shall we?” Grabbing Dani’s wrist, she pulled her back toward the stall she’d just vacated.
Resisting, Dani huffed out an exasperated laugh. “Amy—”
The nurse stopped and spun around so suddenly that Dani plowed into her.
“I care about you.”
The hitch in her friend’s voice, the concern, silenced any retort she might have made.
“You’ve lost weight, you’re pale and you have dark circles under your eyes. You’re a mess and I’m worried about you.”
After a couple dozen heartbeats Dani sighed and surrendered. She didn’t want to tell her friend that she was afraid she was in love with a man who was way out of her league—a man who was a member of a social class she could never belong to. Didn’t want to belong to, she reminded herself.
“All right,” she growled, grabbing the pregnancy test and stomping into the stall. She turned and jabbed it into the air. “If only to prove that your theory is totally off the wall. I’m a little run-down and I can’t shake this virus. That’s all.”
Secure in the knowledge that she was right, she shut the door smartly in her friend’s face. She was the doctor, wasn’t she? Surely she’d be able to tell the difference between a virus and early pregnancy? Even if it was possible.
Which it wasn’t.
Ten minutes later, however, she was staring in shock at the twin pink stripes in the results window. Her knees wobbled, her ears buzzed and her head felt as if it was two feet abov
e the rest of her body.
“But... But that’s—”
“Impossible?” Amy demanded, her face alternating between delight and shock that probably mirrored Dani’s.
“But...but... Dr. Cartwright said... He said—”
“Well, clearly he was wrong,” Amy interrupted, practically shoving the stick under Dani’s nose. “Doctors sometimes are, you know. They aren’t infallible and they aren’t God.”
Dani refused to believe it. “These things aren’t definitive either, Amy,” she said briskly, grabbing the box to check the use-by date. “They’re often defective and give false positives. I have Asherman’s.”
“Well, clearly you don’t,” Amy retorted smartly. “And to make certain, why don’t you schedule an appointment with Dr. Dawson? Getting a second opinion won’t hurt.” Her eyebrows arched challengingly. “Will it?”
Yes, dammit, it would hurt. Especially if she got her hopes up and it turned out to be a faulty test. It would... She’d be devastated.
“Fine,” she said calmly. “But I’m telling you it’s a false positive. I’m not pregnant.”
She shook her head firmly and for an instant wondered who she was trying to convince. Herself or Amy.
“I can’t be pregnant. It’s just not possible.”
* * *
She was pregnant.
Fierce joy warred with disbelief and panic as Dani gripped the steering wheel until her fingers ached. Driving off the ferry at Departure Bay, Nanaimo, she was scarcely aware of the stream of cars and throng of people around her.
For God’s sake, she lectured herself silently as her heart pounded and her vision wavered. Get a grip. She was pregnant, not dying. But damn if she wasn’t hyperventilating—in a good way—at the notion of life growing in her belly. And hyperventilating—not in a good way—at the thought of telling Dylan.
A keening moan escaped before she could shove it back. It was the very last conversation she wanted to have. Not after assuring him they were safe. Not after the best month of her life. And like an idiot, she even found herself dreaming of a future with Dylan—which was ridiculous, especially as she’d been the one to insist they were temporary. He’d think she was trying to trap him and he’d be furious. She couldn’t blame him but it would be the end of anything good between them.
