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“It wouldn’t do any good,” he said sharply.
“If you say so,” Jane returned just as sharply. “But at least Grant married me when he found out I was pregnant!” Then she slammed the phone down with a satisfying bang, and a pleased smile spread over her face.
KELL PACED HIS office, running his hand through his black hair. Rachel was pregnant, carrying his baby. He counted the months; she would be six months along, so why had she waited so long before trying to contact him? Had something gone wrong? Was she sick? In danger of losing the child? Was something wrong with the baby?
The worry ate at him; it was even worse than what he’d gone through every day since he’d left her in the hospital. The want and need hadn’t lessened; if anything, they had grown stronger. But every time the temptation to call her began undermining his common sense, his memory would dredge up the picture of her lying on the yard with her blood soaking her clothing, and he knew he couldn’t live if his very presence put her in that sort of danger again. He loved her more than he’d known a human being could love; he’d never loved before, but when he’d fallen, he’d gone over hard. It pervaded his bone and tissue; he was never allowed to forget even for a moment. When he slept it was with the memory of holding her in his arms, but more often he lay awake, his body hard and aching for her softness to surround him.
He couldn’t sleep; his appetite had suffered; his temper was shot to hell. He couldn’t even have sex with other women, because the simple fact was that other women didn’t even tempt him enough to arouse him. When he closed his eyes at night he saw Rachel, with her straight dark hair and clear, lake-gray eyes, and he tasted her on his tongue. He remembered her directness, her honesty, and the games played by women who tried to attract him did nothing other than turn him off.
She was going to have his baby.
The messages he’d been getting had been driving him crazy, and a dozen times he’d reached for the telephone. The messages had all been the same, short and simple. “Call me. Rachel.” God, how he’d wanted to, just to hear her voice again, but now those messages took on more meaning. Had she just wanted to let him know that he was going to be a father, or was it more urgent than that? Was something wrong?
He reached for the telephone and actually dialed the number, but slammed the receiver down before her phone could begin ringing. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He wanted to see her, to make certain that everything was all right. He wanted to see her, just once, heavy and rounded with his child, even if he was never given anything else in this life.
IT WAS RAINING the next day when he drove down the narrow private road that led toward the beach and Rachel’s house. The sky was low and gray, sullenly pouring rain as if it would never stop. The temperature was in the forties, but that seemed almost warm after the twenties he had left behind in Virginia, and the weather report on the radio had promised clear skies and a warming trend for the next day.
He had arranged for a flight to Jacksonville, then caught a commuter plane to Gainesville, where he rented a car. It was the first time he’d ever walked out of the office like that, but after what had happened last summer, no one questioned him. It wouldn’t have done much good if they had; once Sabin decided to move, he moved.
He stopped the car in front of the house and got out, ducking against the rain. Joe was braced in front of the steps, snarling, and it was so much like before that a tight smile tugged at Kell’s mouth. “Joe, heel,” he said. The dog’s ears perked forward at that voice and the command, and with a small bark he bounded toward Kell, his tail actually wagging.
“That’s quite a greeting,” Ke
ll murmured, leaning down to rub the dog’s head. “I just hope Rachel is as glad to see me.” After he’d ignored all of her messages she might well slam the door in his face. Despite the chill he felt himself starting to sweat, and his heart was slamming against his ribs. He was so close to her; she was just on the other side of that door, and he was shaking with anticipation, his loins hardening. Damn, that was just what he needed.
He was getting soaked, so he sprinted across the yard and leaped onto the porch with one bound, disdaining the steps. He knocked on the frame of the screen door, then impatiently did it again, harder.
“Just a minute.”
He closed his eyes at her voice, then heard her footsteps approaching the door, and opened them again, not wanting to miss even a second of looking at her. She opened the door, and they faced each other silently through the screen. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. He tried to see her through the screen, but there were no lights on in the living room, and the dim, gray day didn’t help much. All he could really see was the pale oval of her face.
“May I come in?” he finally asked quietly.
Without a word she pushed the screen door open and moved back for him to enter. He stepped inside, closed the wooden door behind him and reached to flip the light switch, flooding the room with light. She stood before him, small and fragile and very slim. She was wearing tight jeans and a baggy black sweatshirt; her hair was longer and pulled back from her face on each side with two big tortoiseshell clips. She was pale, her face strained.
“You’re not pregnant,” he said in a tight voice. Had she lost the baby?
She swallowed, then shook her head. “No. I’d hoped I would be, but it didn’t happen.”
Her voice, so low and well remembered, made him shudder inside with pleasure, but her words brought him up short. “You haven’t been pregnant?”
Now she looked confused. “No.”
His fists knotted. He didn’t know which was worse, the realization that Jane had lied to him, or disappointment that Rachel wasn’t pregnant, after all. “Jane told me you were pregnant,” he ground out, then abruptly remembered her exact words, and a bark of laughter burst out even through his anger. “Hell, no, she didn’t. What she said was ‘At least Grant married me when he found out I was pregnant!’” he told her, mimicking Jane. “Then she hung up on me. She’s so slick that I didn’t catch it until now.”
Rachel had been watching him, not even blinking as she drank in his appearance. He was thinner, harder, that black fire of his even more intense. “You came because you thought I was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Why bother now?” she asked, and bit her lip to stop it from trembling.
Well, he’d asked for that. He looked at her again. She had lost weight, and her eyes were listless. It startled him, hit him hard. She didn’t look like a happy woman, and all he’d ever wanted was for her to be safe and happy. “How are you?” he asked, concern deepening his voice to a rumble.
She shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose.”
“Does your side bother you?”
“No, not at all.” She turned away, going toward the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of hot chocolate? I was just going to make some.”
