It's News to Her

by Helen R. Myers

  “We’re eating in bed?”

  “An indulgent pleasure of mine, particularly if I’m feeling sorry for myself or under the weather. What, you’re worried about spills? If you’re as hungry as you claim to be, I promise you there won’t be enough left for crumbs in bed. Are you telling me that you never ate in bed growing up? Not even when you had the measles or chicken pox?”

  Offering a droll glance over his shoulder as they parted ways at the foot of the bed, he said, “Boarding and prep schools tend to frown upon it.”

  “What about picnics?”

  “Does lunch at a sidewalk cafe at a four-star restaurant count?”

  “Then all the more reason that for our first date, you need to experience a late-night dinner in bed.”

  Bemused, Cord watched her reorganize the bed covers and place the large, shallow bowl in the middle of the mattress. The gentle sway of her hips almost took his mind off of food, as did those legs that went on forever. He’d overheard Tom refer to her as Legs and decided that would be his pet name for her, as well. And he would be the one the personnel director wouldn’t dare chastise.

  “This isn’t our first date,” he said, belatedly realizing what she’d said. He set his tray on the nightstand and held her glass out to her.

  “Of course it is.” Taking a sip, she set the goblet on her nightstand.

  “The flight to New Jersey was our first date. We had wine and Asian food on the trip back.”

  “I was on the job,” she reminded him. “And despised you—or thought I did. I wouldn’t have gone out on a date with you even if you’d threatened to fire me.”

  “You didn’t despise me.” Cord’s insides froze at the thought. “You were a little—confused and disappointed. Besides, if we go with your perspective that means we’ve never been on a date, but we’ve had sex. Made love,” he amended quickly and with a self-satisfied smile. “You would never do that,”

  “Consider it a compliment to your animal magnetism.” Sitting down cross-legged on the bed, Hunter immediately stabbed a ravioli and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm. Delicious and decadent.” She then fed him one.

  Taking up his glass, Cord stretched across the opposite side of the bed and took a grateful sip of his wine, then eyed her indulgently. “All right, have your fun at my expense.”

  “Only a little. Actually, I’m teetering on the brink of shock.” She fed him another piece before taking one for herself. Then she dabbed a slice of the garlic bread in the creamy Alfredo sauce and fed it to him, too.

  Cord moaned. “You’re right, it’s good. But you’re wrong about the shock part. There are no rules, and as with all of life changes, it’s bound to take time to adjust, to learn to accept and adapt to each other’s differences.”

  “Twenty-four hours ago, I thought you realized you’d made a mistake and changed your mind about wanting me. Love wasn’t even hinted at. Now, here we are. Do you realize that I might even be pregnant? It’s all backward.”

  “It’s perfect…for us.” Determined to keep her thinking positive, Cord was again late in catching the idea that she’d just thrown out to the universe. As his heart made an acrobatic move that should have been medically impossible, he saw her reach for her wine. He smoothly removed it from her grasp before she could take another sip.

  “Excuse me,” she said, pointing to the departing goblet.

  Ignoring her protest, he placed it on his table and returned with a bottle of water, which he opened and handed to her. “You’re serious? It’s possible?”

  “It’s possible. I don’t know how probable. But you didn’t use a condom, and I’m not on birth control. Think it’s a good thing we have directors and producers to get the news on the air in a timely fashion?”

  As she reached for the fork again, Cord stilled her hand. He didn’t want to make fun of this subject. “Would that be all right with you?”

  He watched as Hunter’s expression softened. “You said you wanted a family.”

  “I do. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know if it would ever happen. I’m not one of those women who would have wanted to raise a child on my own—or be a one-child parent. And I know how difficult one unwed-mother pregnancy would be on my grandmother. Multiples could have dire consequences.”

  “Stop.” Cord cupped Hunter’s cheek with his good hand. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. Marry me.”

  Smiling, her eyes overly bright, Hunter planted a kiss in his palm. “You don’t have to rush things. We can—”

  “No, we can’t,” Cord said, getting off the bed and heading for the bathroom where he’d put his clothes. When he returned, he held a small, black velvet box.

  Watching Hunter’s lovely eyes grow wide, he came to her side of the bed and sat beside her. “This was my grandmother’s. I spoke with Lenore before coming here this evening and told her my intentions. I didn’t want her feelings hurt.” Gingerly lifting the lid as he balanced the box with his bandaged fingers, he exposed a three-carat, canary-yellow diamond circled by three more carats of white diamonds. “Be mine,” he said, lifting it out of the satin-lined slot. “My first, last and only.”

  “You really did come here intending…”

  “I love you. It was time. Marry me, Hunter Harding?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, giving him her left hand. When he slipped the ring on her finger, Hunter breathed shakily. “Oh, Cord…do you think your grandfather would have added his blessing?”

  “He already did.” Quietly, but proudly, he told her about one of their last, prolonged conversations. “It was the day after we returned from New Jersey. The day I headed out to California with my next stop being Chicago. I told him that I thought we’d made progress in clearing the air. I told him a great deal about my feelings for you. He must have seen something in me this time because that’s when he told me that if I had the good luck to convince you, he wanted you to wear his Annie’s ring.”

  Hunter wrapped her arms around his neck, overcome with emotion. “That makes missing him all the more painful. It would have been the thrill of my life if he could have agreed to give me away and walk me down the aisle.”

  Wanting only to ease her grief, Cord said, “Well, sweetheart, first of all, he would probably have needed a wheelchair to carry you down on his lap. And second, when it came time to ask if anyone objected, he would have made sure the minister allowed a painfully long silence before proceeding.”

  Bursting into laughter, Hunter agreed. “He would, wouldn’t he?”

  He kissed her then, with all of his heart. If he thought she’d shown him her passion before he learned that he still had much to grasp about his dark-eyed beauty. Before the end of their second kiss as an official couple, the future Mrs. Cord Yarrow Rivers had him lifting her onto his lap.

  “I have to get back to the estate soon,” he groaned. “There’s an early board meeting to make everything official, and then I have to meet with grandfather’s attorney, along with Lenore and my parents. More incessant, preliminary paperwork.”

  “I know.”

  “I wanted to spend this night above all nights with you.”

  “Better yet, make sure you clear your calendar for our wedding night,” Hunter warned with mock sternness. Then she grew sympathetic. “All responsibility is on you now.”

  “But I’ll be back tomorrow night. We can discuss dates.”

  “I’m a fig girl myself.”

  “Minx.’

  Stroking his hair, Hunter said, “Before you leave, remind me to give you a key.”

  He held still, savoring that moment. “Just like that?”

  Gently biting his earlobe, she chided, “First you complain about my caution, now you’re questioning my conviction?”

  When she sat up smiling, their gazes locked, and the first flame of passion reignited. Slowly, slowly, as though reveling in the wait as much as the impending connection, they inched closer, focused on each other’s lips. Then their warm breaths merge
d as one. Finally their lips brushed together.

  As sparks of desire shot through Cord’s body, he slanted his mouth over Hunter’s, initiating a different kind of dialogue as mysterious and ageless as the universe. Deep, stroking kisses soon had him gliding his right hand to her breast where he relished the feel of that bud, already taut and ready for his mouth.

  “Just once more,” he breathed. “Then I have to go.”

  “Yes.”

  Their attempts at restraint had already loosened his towel. Hunter swept her sleep shirt over her head so fast he would have chuckled if he wasn’t so grateful they were on the same sexual wavelength.

  “Straddle me,” he coaxed.

  She did but stayed on her knees, enticing him with herself. Framing her breasts with his hands, he stroked her nipples as he brushed kiss after kiss over each mound. “I promise you,” he said, “when I have two good hands again, I’ll do this justice.”

  With her forehead touching his, she had them cocooned in a world all their own. “Well, there’s plenty more of you that’s working just fine,” she told him.

  He was glad she thought so, but he wasn’t going to last long if she kept on with the sexual innuendos. “Take it, take me,” he told her.

  She did, just as slowly as they’d kissed, wanting every ounce of what they could bring to the moment. When he was sheathed by her, he felt her tighten inside and milk him.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, feeling moisture on his forehead.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You keep that up, you may get that early baby you’re worrying about.”

  “Not the best position for fertilization.”

  “You’re about two seconds away from being flipped over and rocked to sleep,” he said between nips of her lower lip. “Then we’ll talk about fertilization.”

  “Cord Yarrow Rivers, don’t you dare get ravioli and Alfredo sauce all over your grandmother’s beautiful ring.”

  “Your ring now, my love.”

  “Cord—Cord!”

  Epilogue

  Fourteen Months Later

  “…And so the cat is out of the hat—and hat box. With the mystery of the lost family feline resolved, the Johnsons continue with their unpacking at their new home on Long Island while Mommy cat, Misty, spends her days nursing her two kittens—when they’re not busy shredding packing paper and batting foam worms.

  “That is Monday, October twenty-fourth. We wish you a night with equally blissful endings.”

  “And that’s a wrap. Thanks, Hunter. Textbook warm-and-fuzzy story,” director, Stan Pfeiffer, said. “Now when I get home tonight, my five-year-old is going to meet me at the door and wrap her arms around my leg crying, ‘Daddy, can we adopt one of Misty’s babies?’”

  “From what I gathered, checking back with the Johnsons, it sounds like they’re keeping those kittens,” Hunter said, removing her earpiece. “There’s your out…unless you want to head down to the local animal shelter. There are always plenty of homeless cats and dogs there.”

  The native New Yorker, who more resembled a longshoreman, wagged a sausage-size finger at her. “The closest my kid is getting to a pet is if I point to a rat in the alley between our apartment buildings and tell her that she can name it.”

  Hunter shook her head as she awaited help to take off the rest of her gadgetry. For all of his gruffness and toughness, Stan was something of a pussycat himself. It had just taken Hunter longer than usual to figure that out, and for the two of them to settle in to a comfortable work mode. But then there had been a great number of things to adapt to in the last fourteen months.

  She also had her mike unclipped from her royal purple, soft-knit dress as the assistant came to help her, but she had temporarily lost the ability to get the wires and uncomfortable battery pack out from under her clothing. “Thanks Roger, thanks everyone,” she called to the rest of the crew that continued to whistle and applaud their own smooth work as much as hers

  “There you go, Mrs. Rivers,” the assistant said, achieving what Hunter did not. “Are you okay?” she asked, giving her a closer inspection than usual. “You looked a little uncomfortable at the end. Did the earpiece poke you, or the mike battery cut into your back?”

  “Not too much more than usual, Rachel, thanks.” Pushing back her chair, Hunter stroked her belly. There was no more hiding that she was big with child: any-day-now size. “There’s no comfortable position to sit or lie in these days,” she drawled. “Do you think that the viewers picked up on as much as you did?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. It’s just that everyone says you’re the consummate professional and to take notes. They’re right. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, and I’m thrilled to think I’m beginning to read you a little better. Just let me know if there’s something I can do to make this stuff easier.”

  Touched by the sweet girl’s initiative, Hunter reached out to squeeze her arm. “Rachel, I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that you’re catching on fast and couldn’t do your job any better. I hope you get that promotion to the next step in production. I’ll put in my good word.”

  As the young woman grinned and scampered away, Hunter saw Cord emerge from the production room and stride purposely toward her, although he did take the time to exchange greetings with several of the staff. He looked as handsome and distinguished as ever in his navy blue, pinstripe suit and red tie. It took no time at all for the butterflies to start fluttering in her tummy, just watching him. And to think they had already celebrated their first anniversary a month ago. Hardly newlyweds anymore, she thought with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what he would say about that.

  Before she could reach for her shoes—the lowest heels she’d worn since she wore ankle socks—Cord was at her side, crouching to help her slide them on. She almost blushed because his movements were more intimate and caressing than practical.

  “What’s the grin about?” he asked, looking like he knew full well.

  “I’m merely enjoying watching you, but the guys in the control room may be groaning in disgust.”

  “Every damned one of them is green with envy.”

  “Uh-huh. How did the program that you caught look to you?”

  “You’ve hit your stride again—and you look radiant and luscious.”

  “That’s a polite word for fat.” She sighed, thinking if she ever fit into a pair of her high heels again, she would never complain about discomfort again. But then she’d also worried that she would never be embraced by this city, too. At first, some of the critics had tried to resist embracing her.

  “You’re pregnant and oversensitive, my love. Everyone in the control room may remember that I’m the paycheck, but they still want their product to look it’s best, and a chief part of that product is you. Clever Cat-and-the-Hat bit,” he added.

  “Too cutesy for cosmopolitan New York City?”

  “Give yourself a break, sweetheart,” Cord said, stroking her calf. “You’re not exactly from a two-chicken TV station. Everybody loves a positive story, especially in difficult international times.”

  She knew that, but her hormones were trying to undermine her at every turn. It was her fifth month as the evening anchor at YCI’s New York cable TV channel and she’d begun staying consistently in the number two position in her time slot even against the network stations. Along with their recent anniversary, she and Cord were expecting their first child—a son—any day now. Life was definitely in transition.

  “When did you get in?” she asked, forcing herself to relax and count her blessings. He was having to commute to headquarters—as well as travel—more, and while she couldn’t help but worry when he was flying, she knew there was no one more cautious and invested in safety than Cord and his aircraft crew.

  Before answering, Cord rose and kissed her soundly. Still, it was a chaste kiss compared to what she knew he would bestow on her when they reached the limo where Phil and Lane were sure to be waiting.

  “About twenty minutes before you p
robably sat nervously in your office and tracked our flight on the internet, and I made it into the control room about ninety seconds before you went live, so I did see every piece.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Still, it’s nice to be missed.”

  “Why not just accept that I miss you every second, even when you’re at the loft and I’m here?”

  “I do, beloved,” he said, suddenly all seriousness. “I still can’t believe my good fortune and universal blessings.” Slipping his arm around her, he helped her to her feet. “How’s that for discreet? I even resisted sneaking a fanny rub.”

  Thank heaven for small favors, she thought with an inward groan, because she knew full well that he believed in showing his true feelings for her and didn’t care what anyone thought. “I love you,” she purred. “And I’m sorry for sounding like a rat terrier with a bad haircut.”

  Shaking with laughter, Cord led her off the stage and toward the nearest exit. “How about we head home for a bubble bath and foot-and-back massage?”

  “Cord Rivers, if you do that for me, I will give birth to a baby hippo for you.”

  He held her close all the way to the elevators during and the ride down. “Did you talk to your mother? Is she going to let me send up a car for her and your grandmother, so they don’t miss the baby’s arrival?”

  Hunter bit her lip. She knew he and her mother and grandmother got along just fine, but she didn’t want to inundate him with company. Particularly female company. She was more than enough for him.

  “I heard that,” he said. “Just as loudly as if you were beating a bongo drum in my ear. How many times do I have to tell you, the more the merrier?”

  Easy for him to say. Their loft had a state-of-the-art kitchen now, and her grandmother might like it so much, she’d never leave. “I still think it would be smarter to put them up in the hotel across the street.”

  “We have plenty of room,” Cord assured her.

  “What’s the news from Lenore? Will she come up?”

  “She let me make the reservations while I was down there. She arrives the day after tomorrow, and she sends her love. She’s missed you more than she’ll say.”