Tony told himself there was absolutely no reason he should suddenly feel taller, broader, stronger. No reason why he should feel so, so proud. But he straightened his shoulders and fought the urge to ruffle Gib’s hair, anyway. “Yeah. He’s always been a fighter. He’s an amazing little kid.”
Feeling strangely uncomfortable with his new set of emotions, he reached for Chris, saying, “Here. He’s a baby, not a live grenade.”
Gib handed the baby over willingly. “Then, I guess throwing myself on top of him is out of the question.”
Tony laughed, the sound rumbling and burgeoning from deep inside. Whether it was the sound or the vibration or the feeling that he was safe, Christopher stopped crying. Just like that, the room became quiet.
Silence. Hell, it was golden. Silver, bronze and platinum all rolled into one.
“What happened?” Gib whispered incredulously.
Making a sound that was half sigh, half moan, all feeling, Tony said, “I think my son and I just reached a little understanding. Come on downstairs, Malone. Something tells me he’ll drink his bottle now. And then he’ll probably sleep for a couple of hours.”
“That’s good,” Gib answered, following more slowly. “Maybe that will give you enough time to explain why your wife had a marriage contract drawn up, and why you look frustrated enough to bite somebody’s head off.”
* * *
Autumn was in the air, and so was blessed silence.
Tony and Gib were sitting on the patio on the wicker furniture Martin Smith had helped move from Beth’s place less than two weeks ago. Now that Chris was sound asleep in his crib upstairs, the night was infinitely quiet, beautifully, amazingly, wonderfully quiet. Lights were coming on in houses up and down the street. The stars weren’t out yet, but the moon was full, and lights twinkled from the windows of the cabins sparsely dotting the face of the mountain.
“Whew,” Gib whispered, propping his left leg on a low stool. “It only took one six-pound baby to do what it usually takes a tall, voluptuous blonde to do. That kid of yours wiped me out. Wore me down. Turned me weak in the knees. If you’re lucky, I might have enough energy left to listen to what’s bothering you. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on, why you look ready to hit somebody, and what it all has to do with that marriage contract I happened to leaf through when I first arrived.”
Running a hand through his hair, Tony took a deep breath and eyed his friend. He hadn’t planned to confide in anyone about this, but suddenly he wanted to tell Gib. He didn’t really know where to start, so he started at the beginning. “I don’t know how to explain it, but something strange happened to me the night Christopher was born….”
Gib nodded every once in a while and asked the occasional question. For the most part, he listened, taking it all in, piecing it all together. Tony told him about the zing that had gone through him immediately after he and Bethany had helped Annie Moore bring Christopher into the world. He explained how Beth had asked him to marry her and why, and everything else that had happened since. When he’d finished the entire, sordid story, neither man said anything for several minutes.
Finally, Gib spoke. “You’ve gotta find a way to tell her you’re sorry, man. You are sorry, aren’t you?”
Tony was leaning ahead in his chair, his elbows on his thighs, his chin propped on his hands. Staring out into the darkness of his backyard, he said, “I’m sorry as hell. I’m just not sure what for.”
Gib shook his head and reached for the drink he’d been nursing for the past hour. “It looks to me as if Beth’s Achilles heel is her inability to have biological children. You found her most tender area and stomped on it.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Tony was glad Chris was upstairs, too far away to hear Gib’s reply, because he’d really hate his son’s first word to be the four-letter one Gib had just pieced together and spit out so eloquently.
“That’s probably what Roosevelt said right after the A-bomb blew a hundred thousand innocent people to smithereens,” Gib declared.
Analogies such as that one were what had gotten Gib in trouble with the Marine Corps years ago. It was one of the reasons he’d gone to work for a private agency. Although Tony didn’t appreciate the analogy any more than the armed services would have, he couldn’t fault Gib for his insight.
Heaving a huge sigh, Tony leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. Things had been a little crazy lately. He grimaced at the understatement. Hell, marrying a woman he barely knew was more than a little crazy. He’d followed his instincts, and look where it had gotten him. He was beginning to realize it was going to take more than gut instinct to get him out of the stalemate he’d reached with Beth.
He’d hurt her, plain and simple. And Gib was right. He was going to have to tell her he was sorry, in words, or in deeds, or in any way it took.
“What are you going to do?” Gib asked.
Tony scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m going to take your advice.”
Gib finished his drink and rose to his feet with the help of his cane. “No need to thank me. Just make me Christopher’s godfather and we’ll be even. How long before the kid wakes up again, anyway?”
“It’s hard to say, but it’ll probably be soon.”
“This goes on all day and all night? The feeding and the diapers and the feeding and the diapers?”
When Tony nodded, Gib shook his head. “That’s why I always carry protection.”
“One of these days you’re going to meet someone who can resist you, Malone. And you know what they say. The mightier they are, the harder they fall.”
Gib flashed his thousand-watt smile. “I fall all the time. For tall blondes, and tall brunettes, and tall redheads.”
Tony ran his hand across his face and on down his bare chest. “Spare me the details, will you? I’m having a hard enough time keeping my hormones in check these days. Now, go on, get out of here, so I can work on my apology to my wife. Oh, and Malone? I’ll talk to Beth about Christopher’s baptism, but I’d be honored if you’d be his godfather.”
Placing a fist to his own chest, Gib swallowed, hard, then slowly made his way around the back of the sprawling old house to the driveway where he’d parked his Jeep. Tony watched him go. In all the years he’d known Gibson Malone, he’d never seen him speechless. Until now.
When Tony smiled this time, he noticed it didn’t feel half bad.
* * *
Beth let herself in the back door, unsure of what she would find. The house was dark, except for the light over the stove. Dishes were stacked in the sink; a soggy kitchen towel was balled up on the counter. The place looked a little messy, but no worse for wear.
Although she’d thought about Tony and Christopher a hundred times, she was amazed at how little she’d worried. She’d seen Tony with his nieces and nephews, and she knew Christopher was in good hands. Of course, the fact that the emergency room had been crawling with patients had helped pass her time. Although Jenna always claimed it was obvious, Beth didn’t know why so many people did so many dangerous things when the moon was full.
There were no lights on in the living room or in the foyer, but the moon was bright enough to light her way. Anxious to find out how things had gone for Tony and Christopher, she slipped out of her shoes, and her footsteps on the stairs were quick and light.
She stood in the center of the hall, their bedroom on her left, Christopher’s on her right. She glanced into the room lit up by the faint glow of a night-light first. Finding the room empty, she padded to the doorway of the room she shared with Tony. She paused, her head tilting automatically, her arms gliding around her waist.
Tony was sprawled out in the easy chair that was tucked into one of the many nooks in this big house. Christopher was nestled on Tony’s chest, his only blanket the weight of his new father’s hand. They were both scantily dressed—the baby in a diaper and T-shirt, the man in navy boxers and nothing else. Both looked blessedly warm, and relaxed, and peaceful.
Soft-touched thoughts shaped Beth’s smile. Something shifted in her chest, spreading outward like waves on a quiet shore. The lamp near the bed was turned to its lowest setting, casting a faint glow over everything it touched. She strode farther into the room, stopping only when her right foot came into contact with the cold, wet dress shirt lying on the floor. She reached down, smiling to herself at the probable cause.
Now that she looked around, she saw that the place was a mess. Sleepers littered the floor, a baby blanket dangled from the bed, and what looked like a torn, dry diaper was hanging, half on, half off the dresser. Two partially empty baby bottles and a half-full one were lying on the floor near Tony’s chair. It looked like a cyclone had swept through the room. Poor baby, she thought, glancing at Christopher’s puckered little mouth. Staring at the shadows Tony’s lashes cast on his cheeks, she whispered, “Poor babies.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she felt a lingering vibration, like emotions tugging on her heartstrings.
Uncertain of her growing feelings and reluctant to disturb Tony and Christopher’s sleep, she tiptoed to the closet for her robe, then headed for the shower.
She stripped out of her clothes and raised her face to the soft shower spray. The warm water washed away the last remnants of the evening’s work, but it didn’t lessen the fullness in her chest or take away the flutter in her heartbeat.
When she was finished, she turned off the shower, dried herself with a clean towel and donned her long robe before padding back to the bedroom. With the gentlest of movements, she lifted Tony’s hand from Christopher’s back. Instead of dropping easily to his side, his hand closed around hers. Her breath caught in her throat, her gaze on his face.
“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered.
“I was.”
His eyes opened, and she was almost sure she could feel herself slipping right in. “Rough night?”
He shook his head. “Rough week.”
He made no move to release her hand, but his gaze strayed to her lips, down to her throat and on to the V-neckline of her robe. Leaning over him as she was, Beth knew he had a clear view of her breasts. Her throat convulsed as she tried to swallow, and Tony’s gaze followed the movement back to her eyes.
“I thought I’d put Christopher in his bed. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You have?”
“I’m sorry.”
She closed her eyes against the tears swimming there. Opening them again, she stared into his eyes. She knew Tony Petrocelli was a private man, a man who wasn’t comfortable with people traipsing through his thought processes. And yet his eyes were open wide, letting her look her fill.
Jenna had told her it was impossible to guard her heart from being broken, impossible to guard against falling in love. Even while she was drowning in the dark, murky desire in Tony’s eyes, even while they somehow managed to walk into Chris’s room and tuck him into his crib and lovingly cover him with a soft blanket, even when Tony took her hand once again, she told herself Jenna was wrong. She could guard her heart. She could.
She’d never remember exactly how they came to be standing at the foot of the big bed. Perhaps they’d walked, or maybe they’d floated there. All she knew was that Tony hadn’t stopped looking at her, and she had to remind herself, every couple of minutes or so, to breathe.
He put his arms around her, and she let him. She knew she shouldn’t, not if she wanted to keep the tenacious hold she had on her emotions, not to mention on her heart. But she let him, anyway, for the plain and simple reason that it felt good. She wasn’t going to turn all poetic and imagine that she’d found heaven in his arms and a haven in the little nook between his neck and shoulder where she rested her cheek. There was nothing heavenly or poetic about any of this. He didn’t love her. And she didn’t love him. He was just a man, and she was just a woman. That’s all they were, a man and a woman, holding each other in a dimly lit room.
He shifted away from her slightly so that he could bring his hand up to her face. “I’ve missed you, and I’m so sorry I hurt you. I signed the contract you left for me, although I have no intention of holding you to it. In fact, there’s only one thing I intend to hold you to.”
He moved against her so there was no question in her mind about his meaning. She closed her eyes. See? she told herself. She was safe, her heart, her mind, her emotions. She could have sex with her husband without turning poetic and falling in love, even when the moon was full.
He removed the clasp from her hair, the heavy tendrils falling around her shoulders. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “So beautiful.”
The tenderness in his voice sent a sweet ache all the way through her, the yearning in his dark eyes shaping her lips around a soft smile. Her eyes fluttered down in direct response to the brush of his lips along her cheek, her ear, her neck.
“Is it okay with you if we ask Gib to be Chris’s godfather?”
Beth heard the words, really she did. She even felt the tickle of his breath on her skin. But in her hazy state, she couldn’t seem to understand their meaning. “Gib?”
“He came over tonight. And I sort of already asked him.”
Beth laughed, the release it brought her infinitely sweet. They could do this, she thought. They could have a real marriage based on their mutual love for Christopher, and on respect, and passion, without pretending that the wind was singing through the cottonwoods or that there was magic in the moonbeams spilling onto the bed.
He drew her face up, one finger beneath her chin, lowering his head at the same time. “Ah, Beth,” he murmured so close to her mouth she felt the words on her own lips. “I want you. Only you.”
In that instant before his mouth covered hers, the wind sang through the trees, the breeze teasing the curtain at the window. Somewhere, an owl hooted in the moonlight. Far, far away, another owl answered. It was magical, as magical as the sound Tony made against her lips, half moan, half impatience. Beth sighed in return, parting her lips, deepening the kiss.
His fingers worked her sash free, parting her robe. She gasped at the first brush of his fingers on her breast, her gasp turning into a moan when he took them both into his hands. Her gown fell to the floor with a quiet swish, his shorts following in one sure swipe.
“Tony?” she whispered, crawling to the center of the bed.
Half sitting, half lying in the moonlight spilling across the quilt, he looked up at her. Slowly raising his head, he kissed her, sighing against her mouth. “Hmm?” His lips moved down to her chin, then farther, and farther.
Her head lolled back, her eyes opening to the moonbeams slanting through the window. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
His laughter rumbled from deep inside him. “Later, we’re going to do this again.”
Beth smiled, but what he did next replaced her smile with a deep, earthy moan.
“I’ve been waiting all week to hear you make that sound,” he whispered huskily. “But I can’t wait another minute to do this.”
Chapter Ten
Tony didn’t know whether to whistle or grin. He breathed in the rich aroma of piping-hot coffee and let his mouth make the decision for him. Placing two mugs of coffee, two glasses of orange juice, two bagels and—because it had been a couple of hours since Chris had eaten—one warm bottle of formula on a tray, he started for the stairs, his lips shaped to a mellow whistle.
Oh, what a difference a day could make. He woke up smiling a little over an hour ago. He’d thought about waking Beth, had in fact already lifted a hand to do just that, but she’d looked so relaxed and serene and peaceful, he’d decided not to. He hadn’t always been so thoughtful. At least he hadn’t been when he’d awakened her at 2:00 a.m.
Beth didn’t appear to have moved in his absence. He placed the tray on the stand on his side of the bed. Being careful not to do a lot of jostling, he stacked some pillows behind him, reached for one of the many medical journal
s that had a way of piling up and settled down to drink his coffee and do a little catching up. Hot coffee, great sex and interesting reading. Life was definitely good.
Beth felt as if she was floating, coming awake a layer at a time. She became aware of the scent of fresh coffee first, and then of the sound of papers rustling. Her pillow felt blessedly soft, the sheets warm and smooth. She opened her eyes slowly and smiled the same way, enjoying the opportunity to look at the man she’d married.
Tony appeared to be lost in some magazine, alternately turning pages and sipping his coffee. He had broad shoulders, strong arms and a washboard stomach. She knew, because she’d kissed every single ridge last night. His chest was bare, and although he was covered to his waist, she doubted he was wearing anything beneath the sheets. Barry had slept in monogrammed pajamas. Tony Petrocelli slept in the nude. If she’d had any doubts regarding the vast differences between the only two men she’d ever slept with, she didn’t anymore. She’d loved Barry, but their life together had been sedate, organized, and so had their sex life. There was nothing organized about the things Tony had done to her, or about the things she’d done in return.
If she’d ever known she had a penchant for wild sex, it had been squashed in her formative years and forgotten in her quest to conceive a child. Last night, Tony had brought it out into the open, and Lord, she was still amazed. She didn’t know if he’d harbored any thoughts about protection last night. She’d been beyond caring, lost in a world of touch and texture, of whispers and sighs. She certainly hadn’t given any thought to becoming pregnant. For that she was so grateful. He’d given something to her last night and again in the wee hours of the morning, something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. He’d drawn a wildness from deep inside her, then proceeded to ignite it, stoke it, take it, only to give it back again with more feeling than she’d dreamed was possible.
The man had been incredible. She’d been incredible.
Marriage by Contract Page 15
