"Thanks!" The little girl raced past him down the hall.
Chuckling, he turned his head and saw Haven framed in the doorway. The sound of his chuckle died, and his breath caught in his throat. For the briefest of seconds, it seemed that his heart stopped beating before jolting to a start again. The late-afternoon sun stroked the riot of curls that framed her face, making her hair shimmer like molten lava. She looked incredibly beautiful. And utterly unattainable.
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi, back."
It was probably a trick of the light, but her eyes looked warm and happy to see him. "How was your day?"
"Fine. How was yours?"
"Fine." He wanted to take her in his arms, to kiss her and hold her, the way he'd seen Pete kiss and hold Eileen at the end of a long day spent apart. Instead, he held his arms stiffly at his sides. He was not Pete, Haven was not Eileen and theirs certainly was not a "normal" marriage. Gestures of affection were reserved primarily for the bedroom.
"If you've got a moment," he said, "I'd like to talk to you."
She preceded him into the living room. When she'd taken a seat at the sofa, she looked up at him curiously. "Sounds serious."
"It is." He sat down next to her. "I've made a decision."
She stilled. "About what?" Her voice sounded subdued, cautious.
"About me. But in the long run, it will affect both you and Anna." He paused. "I've decided what I'm going to do with the rest of my life."
"You have?" She looked taken aback, as if this was the last thing she'd expected to hear.
He nodded, then smiled gently. "You don't expect me to hang around the house like a slug forever, do you?"
"No. And you're not a slug. You're taking a well-deserved vacation. There's no need to rush into anything, you know."
If only he could delude himself that her concern was more than what she would express for any man who'd been through his ordeal. "I'm not rushing, Haven. This is something I've been toying with for years now. I've finally decided to go ahead with it."
She wrapped her hands around her knees. "Tell me about it, then."
"I've decided to set up a foundation in Charles's name. I want to help kids like me, kids stuck in the foster care system." He heard the excitement in his voice as he got caught up in the idea. "The foundation will track these kids through school, and if they maintain a certain grade-point average and stay out of trouble, it will pay for their college education. Next week, I'm meeting with a man who established a similar foundation in New York. He's going to help me get started."
This time there was no mistaking the warmth and pleasure in her eyes. "Oh, Brady, that's a wonderful idea. If you need any help, you can count on me."
"I'll hold you to it. All my research tells me there will be a ton of paperwork to set this thing up."
The phone rang. While Haven moved to answer it, Brady solidified his plans in his mind. First, he'd go to New York and meet with Adam Bishop, learn everything he could. Then, when he got home, he'd get busy on all the paperwork. And he'd woo his wife. Good and proper.
His thoughts trailed off when he saw the look on Haven's face. Slowly, she lowered the phone.
"It's the lab," she said. "The DNA test results are in."
* * *
"I can't believe it," Haven said, staring unseeingly into her coffee cup. The full cup no longer felt warm to the fingers she'd wrapped around it—when? A minute ago? An hour? Two? She had no idea how long she'd been sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the unmoving liquid, only that it had been long enough for it to grow as cold as she felt on the inside.
"Neither can I," Brady replied in a low voice.
In the den, the grandfather clock chimed the time. Disbelief made Haven raise her head to stare at her surroundings. How could it be ten o'clock already? How could almost four hours have passed since learning the devastating news that had, once again, rocked her world?
"Maybe they made a mistake," she said.
Brady looked up from his undrunk coffee and gave a bitter laugh. "You heard the man as well as I did. He said there was a 99.97 percent probability that someone else is Anna's father. There was no mistake."
Haven heard the underlying anguish in his voice and brought her thoughts up short. How selfish she was! Here she'd been, just thinking of herself and of how the news would impact her relationship with Brady. And there he sat, across from her, looking green in the face, as if he were going to be ill. He should be relieved, she thought. The pressure was off. He had no obligation where she and Anna were concerned.
But instead of looking relieved, he looked dazed and crushed. It didn't take a genius to understand why. He'd thought he had a daughter. He'd given his heart to Anna. For the first time in a long time, he'd thought he had a family. Now what did he have? Nothing.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her heart going out to him. "This must be very hard for you."
"I've been going over and over it in my mind, and I still don't understand it. Why did she do it? Why did she write that letter?" His voice sounded harsh and unnatural. He threaded an unsteady hand through his hair as his gaze sought and captured hers. "How could she lie like that?"
Haven didn't understand it any better than Brady did. All she knew was that she couldn't stand his pain. "I told you before, Melinda never lied. Deep in her heart, she must have believed you were Anna's father. She wouldn't have written you that letter otherwise. I guess, with everything she was going through once her illness was diagnosed, she got confused."
"It still doesn't change the fact that I'm not Anna's father," he said quietly.
"No, it doesn't," she agreed.
It was time. Time to broach the subject she'd been dreading. She swallowed as her heart faltered a beat.
"I guess this changes things. Between us, I mean."
A stillness came over him. "I guess it does."
She wished she could tell what he was thinking. But the longer she gazed at him, the more he seemed to withdraw from her.
"So, what do we do now?" she asked.
"What do you want to do?"
What did she want to do? She wanted to crawl into his arms and stay there.
"Whatever you want to do." It cost her a lot to offer up those words.
He raised one eyebrow. "I have final say in this?"
"You certainly have one of the two votes."
He waited the space of a heartbeat before replying. "Then I vote we go on the way we have been. At least for now."
Stunned, Haven stared at him. "You want to stay married?" she blurted without thinking.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"The way I see it, Anna needs us more than ever. We're the only thing standing between her and the Zieglars."
In the stunned aftermath of the news, Haven had forgotten all about the Zieglars and the threat they posed. "Oh, Lord," she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. "The Zieglars. I forgot."
"Well, I didn't."
"What about after?" she asked.
"After we make sure they can never touch Anna, you mean?"
She nodded.
Something flickered in his eyes. "I just can't walk away from her, Haven."
No, he couldn't, she realized. The last thing he would want Anna to feel was the abandonment he'd felt when he was her age. But was this feeling of obligation enough, in the long run, to keep him by her side?
As always, Haven's breath caught and her heartbeat speeded up just looking at him. "Will you still want more children?"
What a stupid question, she thought. Of course he would still want children. Those children would be more important to him now than ever.
"When you're ready," he confirmed.
Here it was—time to tell him the truth. But she couldn't tell him now. With nothing standing between her and the Zieglars except a marriage that the court might look upon in her favor, Anna's future was too precarious for her to risk. No, she couldn't tell him. Not now. She'd have to wait until after the
hearing.
"The lab report doesn't change my feelings for Anna," Brady said. "It doesn't change my desire to be her father." He rose from his seat and pulled her pliant body into his arms. "It doesn't change the way I still want you."
But would knowing that she couldn't give him children change that want?
Haven's heart hammered to a stop, then started again. Brady's eyes smoldered as he looked down at her, and she trembled with the prospect of a pleasure so keen it was almost unbearable. When his head lowered and he swept her mouth with his tongue, all her doubts and fears were driven from her mind. All that existed was the fire that roared to life inside her. All that mattered was Brady's kiss and the way his fingertips seemed to shoot more fire into the depths of her skin wherever he touched her.
Tonight, she decided, she would not allow herself to think of the future and all its frightening possibilities. Nor would she allow herself to think of the past, and its loneliness and pain. For tonight, she had this one moment, and she intended to cherish it.
Brady pulled his mouth from hers and laid his forehead against hers. "Tell me you want me to stay," he urged, breathing hard, his hands moving in restless motions up and down her arms.
Haven's throat worked, but no sound emerged. When she finally found the words, her voice was hoarse. "Yes, Brady, I want you to stay." Forever and ever.
"God, I want you," he said, his voice thick.
"I want you, too," she breathed, then eagerly searched out his mouth with her own.
Just when she thought she'd surely die from the yearning, he pulled away from her to collect the coffee cups and carry them to the sink. That chore disposed of, he turned off the light and gathered her up into his arms.
Haven expected him to carry her up the stairs to her bedroom, the way he had that first night they'd made love. Instead, he surprised her by gently placing her on the kitchen table. No sooner had he done that, than his mouth fastened on hers once more.
"Brady," she said between kisses.
"Hmm?" His hands were busy unfastening their clothing. She trembled as the cool night air flowing through the open window kissed her skin.
"Shouldn't we go upstairs?"
He paused in the process of unhooking her bra to gaze at her with fevered eyes. "I can't wait that long."
His head lowered and his mouth closed over one turgid nipple. In the blaze of desire that consumed her at his touch, Haven realized that, heaven help her, neither could she.
When Brady entered her a moment later with one long, hard, possessive thrust, she cried out with the glory of it. As she clutched her arms around his neck and met every movement of his hips with an answering movement of her own, she was totally unaware of the hardness of the table against her back. Her reality consisted of the feel of him, deep inside her, and the cries issuing from both their throats as, together, they reached the summit of their passion.
Much later, she lay in bed beside him, staring at the ceiling and listening to his deep, even breathing. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as her heart ached with the secret longing for his love. Though their lovemaking had been more beautiful and satisfying than ever, she'd never felt lonelier in her life.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
"Turn around," Haven instructed. "I want to check how the jacket hangs again."
Brady grimaced at his reflection in the three-way minor before turning as requested. It was the fifth suit he'd tried on in the space of an hour, and Haven had found all of them wanting in one way or another. Either the fabric was wrong, or the color was off, or the jacket or pants didn't hang just so.
His irritation mounted as the overeager salesman fussed at his lapels. It took all his willpower to resist the urge to slap the man's hands away. As far as he was concerned, the lightweight gray summer suit looked just fine. Why he had to keep pivoting this way and that to please both Haven and the salesman was beyond him.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked.
He knew his tone bordered on rudeness, but he couldn't help it. He hated shopping. All it took to make his hackles rise was the setting of one toe over the threshold of a store. To spend an hour there was sheer torture. Although, he admitted to himself, there was a small part of him—a very small part—that enjoyed Haven fussing over him like this.
Now, if he could only get the salesman to leave him alone.
"Yes, Brady," she said in a patient voice, "it is necessary. You're flying to New York this afternoon, remember? It would hardly be appropriate for you to show up at your meeting in a tuxedo."
"I know that. I meant all this—" He waved a hand at the people milling around the crowded store. "I feel like a peacock on exhibit at the zoo."
"Besides me, no one's paying any attention," she said dismissively. "Now, turn around and cross your arms over your chest, so I can see how the fabric pulls." Her tone was one that Brady was certain she reserved for her most stubborn and unreasonable students.
With a resigned sigh, he did as he was told. After all, he had no one but himself to blame for this particular predicament. Up until he'd started packing for his trip that morning, he'd forgotten all about the woeful limitations of his wardrobe.
"It's perfect," Haven said. "No alterations will be necessary."
Brady almost sagged in relief.
"Are you always this grumpy?" she asked, as the salesman, tape measure wrapped around his neck, helped Brady out of the jacket.
"I hate shopping for clothes. I avoid it at all costs."
Her eyes twinkled. "I know. I've seen your wardrobe."
Despite the harshness of the artificial lighting that bathed her face, it still managed to retain a soft, golden glow. He wondered how long he would have to stare at her features before he'd tire of them. He was fairly certain the earth would have stopped rotating on its axis long before that happened.
"Would the gentleman like anything else?" the salesman asked.
The gentleman would like to ravish his beautiful wife. "The gentleman would like to go home."
"The gentleman needs another suit, some shirts and ties and a pair of shoes," Haven corrected. At the pained look he sent her, she added, "if you're going to play the part of wealthy philanthropist, you have to dress for it."
At wit's end, he shot back, "If I was at all interested in playing the part of wealthy philanthropist, I'd be having my suits custom-made, instead of buying them off the rack."
"It was a joke, Brady," she said softly, her eyes gently reproachful.
That was the problem, he realized. Lately, everything with her was a joke. Whenever he tried to hold a serious conversation, all he got in return was light banter. Ask about the latest front-page crisis and they'd somehow wind up talking about the price of lettuce or some other such nonsense.
He knew she was terrified of the upcoming hearing, but she wouldn't talk to him about it. "Syd has everything under control" was the most she would say.
One evening, when he'd tried to share with her the pain he'd felt upon learning that he wasn't Anna's biological father, her body language had told him she didn't want to hear it. Next thing he knew, he'd been discussing the merits of slides versus photographs. He'd let the subject drop. He hadn't broached it, or anything remotely personal, since.
Her silence was driving him crazy. Which was the real reason behind his irritability. Funny, he reflected, how their roles had reversed. In the beginning, she'd been the one interested in talking and sharing. Now that he wanted to talk, all she wanted was to be left alone.
It was, he thought, almost as if they were hanging, suspended in time, with their future to be resolved only after the hearing was over and Anna's security assured. Brady knew what he wanted. He wanted to stay married to Haven. And even though she wasn't his biological child, he wanted to be a father to Anna. And it would give him great pleasure to see his child grow in Haven's belly. However, Haven's silence told him that she might not want the same things he did. He didn't try to fool himse
lf that sex—even great sex—was enough to keep her by his side permanently.
An hour later, the back seat of his car filled with his purchases, he pulled to a stop in front of the day care center.
"Sure you don't want me to drive you to the airport?" Haven asked.
He shook his head. "You've been away from the center long enough as it is."
She seemed relieved. "When will you be back?"
"Friday evening. Don't wait dinner."
Will you miss me? he wondered. Or will you even notice I'm gone? After all, she was the most self-sufficient person he'd ever met. What did she need him for?
"You should have had lunch, instead of shopping with me," he said.
She shrugged. "I think the future of an untold number of children is a little more important than my stomach." She paused, and her blue eyes became meltingly soft. "I don't know whether I told you yet or not, but I think what you're planning to do is wonderful. I think it will give you a lot of satisfaction."
Though her admiration felt good, what he really wanted was her love. "Promise me you'll order a sandwich the minute you get back to your office, and that you'll eat every bite," he said, his voice gruff.
"I promise."
And promise that you'll miss me, just a little.
He reached out and pulled her as close as the confines of the compact car would allow. Finding the curve of her cheek with his palm, he let it rest there. As he gazed into her eyes, he wondered how many years it would take before such a simple touch didn't stop his heart.
They sat like that for a long moment without speaking. Then, when he could bear the distance no longer, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her fiercely. Her return kiss was equally fierce.
"Have a safe trip," she said when they came up for air.
"See you Friday." It was just two days, he told himself. Why did it seem like forever? Why did he get the feeling that nothing would be the same between them when he returned?
He pulled her close one more time and held her as if letting go would kill him, which was exactly how he felt. Reluctantly, when she pulled back, he allowed his arms to fall away. He heard the click of the latch, then she was out of the car and he was watching the gentle sway of her hips as she walked up the curved path leading to the center's front door. She turned and waved once before disappearing inside.
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