Kitabı oku: «A Husband Worth Waiting For», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

WOW, that was some warm welcome!

Jedidiah grasped the knob of the newel post for support as shock hurtled his giddiness to new heights. And added to his shock was jaw-dropping awe: this woman was gorgeous.

Not only was she gorgeous, she was the vision who’d appeared at his hospital bedside. No angel, but his wife.

He gaped at her as she started slowly down the stairs.

Sarah Morgan was a fragile blonde, with smooth, silky hair parted on the left. It curved out bell-like around her heart-shaped face, ending in a loose wave that brought the tips in to brush against her neck then flip out again. Her skin was clear, her nose was straight…and her gray eyes were fixed on him warily.

“I was going to drive to the hospital and pick you up.” Her voice was low and melodic, with a husky timbre.

He found it incredibly sexy.

Something stirred deep inside him.

“The nurse said she’d call me.” She trailed her left hand down the railing as she descended. A delicate gold band glinted on her ring finger. “After the doctor had checked you out.”

She was straight shouldered and leggy, fine boned and elegant. And though the voluminous shirt billow ing out over her jeans concealed her shape, he had no problem envisioning a curvy little figure under the crisp white cotton.

She’d reached the last step and was only an arm’s span away. To his astonishment, he saw she was trembling.

He reached out and took possession of her left hand. She started. Tried to tug it free. As she did, her perfume drifted to him, sweet roses spiced with carnation. Feminine and tantalizing. He tightened his grip.

“Well, hi, Mrs. Morgan,” he said softly, caressing her wedding band with the pad of his thumb. “How about a ‘Welcome home’ kiss for the injured warrior?”

Her lips parted in a gasp.

Her eyes sparked with indignation.

Her body language screamed rejection.

He did a mental double take. Had they quarreled before the accident? If so, whose fault had it been?

His, apparently!

Oh, what the heck—whoever had been at fault, it was time to make up. And the making up, he figured with a sense of pleasurable anticipation, would be fun.

Keeping her wrist trapped with one hand, he slid the fingers of the other through her hair to cup her head. And before she could catch her breath, he leaned forward and claimed her parted pink lips with his own.

From a foggy distance, he heard a child’s giggle.

“Jamie,” his daughter whispered, “Daddy’s kissing Mommie.”

But Mommie, Jedidiah realized with an uneasy jolt, wasn’t kissing Daddy back. And he’d enjoyed only a brief taste of satin-soft, heavenly sweet lips when she wrenched herself away from him.

Her next move stunned him: she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. And what stunned him even more than her undisguised disgust was the rage in her glare.

“That was inexcusable!” she hissed. “I know you want to get rid of me, but that’s a despicable way to go about it—taking advantage of me. Especially in front of the children!”

“Get rid of you?” He blinked. “Why should I want to get rid of you?”

Her eyes went blank for five seconds. Then they took on a scornful expression. “So you’ve changed your tune now that you need help. Oh, you didn’t have to bother with all that playacting. I’m not about to leave you in the lurch.”

“Sarah, I have to tell you—”

“Go to bed,” she snapped. “You look as if you’re going to pass out at any minute.” Pausing only to scoop up the little boy—his son!—she said, “Emma, come with me to the kitchen. I’ll make us all some lunch.”

The little girl—his daughter!—trotted after Sarah.

Head spinning, he watched them go. He didn’t want any lunch. All he wanted was to lie down. But first, he had to tell his wife he’d lost his memory. Then he’d have her fill him in on everything he’d forgotten. And the first thing he wanted to know was: why was she so angry with him?

Legs wobbly as rubber, he made his way across the foyer, following the fast-fading sound of voices.

“Mom—” that was Emma “—I wanted to go upstairs with Daddy!”

He turned into a corridor and saw a room ahead with the door swinging half-shut. The voices now came from beyond it.

“We have to talk, Emma.” Sarah’s voice came faintly. “That man—he’s not your daddy.”

Jedidiah stumbled. Almost fell. He righted himself, swore under his breath—what breath he had left! He wasn’t the child’s father? Then whose child was she?

“He is too my daddy!”

“No, your daddy’s gone to Heaven. You know that.”

“But he’s come back!” Emma started to cry. “Daddy’s come back!”

“Honey, he’s not your daddy. And he’s not Jamie’s daddy, either—”

Now the boy started to cry, a keening wail that drowned out the heartrending sobs jerking from his sister.

Jedidiah felt as if the carpet had been swept out from under his feet. Was this real? Or was he still in his hospital bed under the influence of some mind-bending drug?

“Listen to me.” Sarah’s voice was urgent, with an edge of panic. “Both of you. I’m going to explain.”

He cocked his head and his ears. This he wanted to hear. But a shadow fell over the open doorway, and a second later the kitchen door shut with a sharp click.

He eased his way along the corridor and stopped at the door. Pressing his ear to it, he listened.

All he could hear was a murmur.

Not one word was intelligible.

Oh, this was great. His wife wasn’t speaking to him, and his children were some other man’s.

But now was not the time to ask for explanations; not with Jamie and Emma around. They were already upset enough. He’d wait till he got Sarah on her own.

Turning, he felt a great emptiness in his heart as he made his way to the stairs. He’d thought, when he’d come back to this house, that it was a home. A home, with a wife who loved him. What he had walked into was a situation as bleak as it was depressing: a house with a woman who despised him, and two children who belonged to some other man.

By the time he’d climbed the stairs, he could hardly see straight. He staggered into the first bedroom he came to, and after clumsily stripping to his briefs, he aimed himself toward the bed. It was queen-size, with a puffy hunter-green duvet.

He tugged the duvet aside, fell onto the mattress.

And passed into oblivion.

Sarah sat on the ladder-back chair, with Jamie on her knee and Emma standing in front of her. Emma clutched Girl to her chest as she listened to her mother’s explanation.

“So you see,” Sarah finished, “Mr. Morgan isn’t Daddy, but his older brother. And that’s why he looks like Daddy.”

“I thought Daddy had come down from Heaven,” Emma said sadly.

“Da-da,” pronounced Jamie firmly, “is back.”

Sarah sighed. She believed that Emma now understood the situation; Jamie, obviously, did not.

“He’s your uncle, Jamie. And I don’t want to hear one more word about it.” She got up and set him on his booster seat. “After we have lunch, Emma, I’m going to put Jamie down for a nap. You, too—”

“I don’t want a nap!” Emma protested.

“Yesterday was a long day,” Sarah said. “And you were up till after midnight. No arguments.”

She needed to talk to Jedidiah Morgan. Needed to set him straight about a few things. And she didn’t want the children around when she did.

The man had a nerve, she reflected tautly as she opened a can of tomato soup; to kiss her like that, thinking it would sweeten her up.

She paused, the can momentarily forgotten as her mind flicked back. It had been so unexpected—the last thing in the world she’d thought he had in mind when she joined him at the foot of the stairs. Certainly she hadn’t been thinking about kissing. She’d been thinking how shattered he looked; how exhausted.

Huh!

Lips compressed, she poured the soup into a pan. Not so exhausted that he couldn’t stir up the energy to grab her and give her a bone-melting kiss—

Bone-melting?

A hot blush rose to her cheeks. She’d purposely avoided thinking about that kiss and the effect it had had on her. His lips had been sensual and smooth, his scent musky and male. For a mind-stopping moment she’d been tempted to succumb to his advances. Lord only knew how she’d managed to resist.

But thank heaven she had.

Jedidiah Morgan was, she realized, just like his brother—he could turn on the con man’s charm when it suited him. But she wasn’t about to fall for the Morgan charm again. Not now. Not ever.

She put the pan on the burner and switched the burner on. She’d take him some lunch as soon as she’d fed the children. And once he’d eaten, she’d let him know that if he wanted her to stay and look after him for a few days, first they had to establish some ground rules.

“Mom.” Emma paused with her soup spoon halfway to her mouth. “I think I hear a dog outside.”

“A doggie?” Jamie’s eyes gleamed.

As Jamie spoke, Sarah heard a sharp yelp, followed by a scrabbling sound against the back door.

She sighed. “That’ll be Max—your uncle’s dog.” She’d forgotten all about the black Lab—but she certainly hadn’t forgotten its aggressive reaction to her when they’d met.

“I didn’t know Uncle Jed had a dog. Can I let him in?” Emma asked eagerly.

“Hang on,” Sarah said. “He didn’t take to me when I met him so I must see if I can make friends with him first.”

She opened cupboards, looking for dog food, and under the sink found a red bowl and a bag of dry dog food. After tipping a generous measure into the bowl, she carried the dish to the door.

Then taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Max started to growl when he saw her, but she said, “Good dog!” in a confident, reassuring tone and held out the bowl.

He immediately ignored her and dove right at the food, almost knocking the bowl from her hand. She stepped back and he followed, his tail wagging like mad, his nose foraging in the bowl.

There, she thought with a chuckle, that wasn’t so hard. Setting the dish on the floor, she leaned back against the counter and glanced at the children.

“What do you think?” she asked. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

“Ooh, he’s cool!” Emma said.

Jamie, who was crazy about dogs, stared at Max in wide-eyed wonder. “Can we pet him?” he asked breathlessly.

“Not while he’s eating,” Sarah said. “Let’s leave him just now, and after your nap we’ll see if he wants to play.”

While searching for blankets the night before, Sarah had found there were five bedrooms upstairs. One was the master bedroom. The room next to it was apparently a guest room. The two across the way were unfurnished. And the fifth, at the end of the corridor, was a large room, decorated in yellow and furnished with twin beds.

It was to this room that she led Jamie and Emma when they went up for their nap. After tucking them in, she drew the curtains and made her way back along the corridor.

She paused at the master bedroom and tapped on the door. There was no response. Opening the door, she peeked in, intending to ask Jedidiah if he was ready for lunch.

He lay sprawled on the bed, out like a light.

And he’d probably remain that way for several hours, she reflected as she closed the door. And despite her distaste for his despicable attitude toward her, she felt a wave of compassion for him. He had, after all, undergone quite an ordeal. Sleep would do him good.

Jedidiah woke slowly.

To darkness.

And the sound of someone breathing.

Someone very close to him.

So close he could feel a warm breath fanning his cheek.

“Da-da?”

He turned his head. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Jamie standing by the bed, his small hands clutching the duvet.

“Hey, kid,” Jedidiah whispered. “How’s it going?”

“I’s lost.”

“Lost, huh?”

“Up!” The child stretched out his arms.

Jedidiah pulled him on board, and a second later the pajamaed figure was cuddled up beside him under the duvet. And in less than a minute, Jamie had drifted off to sleep.

Jedidiah peered at his watch. Almost nine.

Night or morning?

There was only one way to find out.

Easing himself carefully across the bed, he sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the mattress…

And winced.

A wild party had started up inside his head. The stereo beat throbbed against his temple with the insistency of a tom-tom calling a savage tribe to war.

He sat absolutely still till the pain subsided. Then slowly he got up and made his way to the window.

He edged back the curtain and saw that it was dark out.

Night, then.

Hauling on his jeans, he headed for the en suite bathroom—and it was only as he pushed open the door that he found himself wondering how he’d known it was there.

“Mom?”

Sarah looked up from the kitchen table, where she’d just emptied out her bag in a search for her antacid tablets. “Emma, what on earth do you want?”

“Isn’t it morning?”

“No, it’s not morning!”

“I woke up.” The child yawned. “And Jamie was gone so I thought it was morning and I came down for breakfast.”

Sarah frowned. “He’s not in his bed?”

“And he’s not in the bathroom.” Emma yawned again. “Where’s Max?”

“He’s dozing in the sitting room.” Sarah skimmed a glance at the monitor, which was lying on the countertop. She’d set it there after putting the children to bed…but darn it, with everything that had been happening, she’d forgotten to flick it on. She did it now.

“Let’s go upstairs,” she said. “I need to find him before he gets into mischief. I wonder if he went looking for that dog!”

When they reached the landing, Sarah noticed that the door to the master bedroom stood ajar. The room was in darkness, but she could see a pencil of light under the en suite door.

So…Jedidiah was up.

“C’mon, Mom, I want to go back to bed.”

She ushered Emma back to her room, tucked her in, then began a swift search for Jamie. He wasn’t in any of the bedrooms. Could he have wandered downstairs?

She hurried back along the corridor and almost bumped into Jedidiah as he emerged from his room.

He was wearing only jeans, and even in her state of anxiety over Jamie, she couldn’t help noticing what a fantastic body the man had—lean, tanned, muscled, with crisp black hair covering his chest and tapering down…

She sucked in a lungful of air and shot her gaze back to his face. “Excuse me.” Her voice had a Marilyn Monroe breathiness that appalled her. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’ve lost Jamie and—”

“He’s in here—he’s asleep.”

“Oh. I’m sorry if he woke you—”

“No problem.”

She made to walk around him. “I’ll just get him—”

“Why don’t you leave him?” He braced a hand against the door frame, halting her. “He’s okay where he is.”

There was something profoundly intimate about his stance. He wasn’t touching her, but she felt trapped within his space, and he was so close she could smell the salty sweat from his skin. Feel the heat of it.

She cleared her throat and took a step sideways. “He needs to be in the other room. I have the monitor set up so I can hear him.”

“You obviously didn’t hear him this time around!” He dropped his arm and, leaning languidly against the door frame, surveyed her with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“I’d forgotten to switch it on.”

She walked around him and crossed to the bed. Scooping Jamie up carefully, she carried him to the door.

“I thought he might have gone looking for Max,” she said. “I don’t know where the dog’s been, but he’s back.”

“He apparently followed the ambulance to the hospital and then hung around waiting for me. Was he hungry?”

“I’ve fed him.”

“Good. Sarah…we need to talk. After you put Jamie down.”

“I agree.” Her eyes had taken on a haughty glitter. “There are certainly things we should discuss!”

Jed watched her stalk off along the corridor. She was a sparky little thing, this wife of his. It was going to be interesting, getting to know her. Kind of like courting her all over again. He found the prospect exhilarating.

After putting on a shirt, he made his way along to the landing. As he descended the stairs, he glanced around and found himself perplexed by what he saw.

Nothing about the interior of this house drew him. The place not only had a sterile quality, it gave a whole new dimension to the word “tidy.” Something deep inside him ached to see a scarf tossed over the oak hall stand; fingerprints on the pristine white walls; even a fractional misalignment of the oil painting hanging sedately above the telephone table.

What kind of woman had he married that she needed such order in her life? Because he was pretty damned sure he wasn’t the one who wanted it to be this way. He knew—he just knew!—that he couldn’t have been comfortable in such barren surroundings.

Sarah Morgan was an enigma.

Shaking his head, he strolled along to the kitchen, but when he opened the door he did a double take. The room looked as if a bomb had hit it.

There was scarcely a square inch of surface area visible. Dirty dishes cluttered the sink. Toys were scattered on the floor. Children’s clothes—underwear, shirts, socks—littered the countertops. And a spill of items from an open handbag took up most of the table.

The woman was not only an enigma, he decided with a feeling of shock, she had a split personality.

“Good grief!” he muttered. And he was so busy taking it all in, he didn’t hear footsteps coming up behind him.

“What’s the matter?” Sarah asked.

He turned to her. “This place is a disaster area!”

Her face became scarlet. “I’m sorry. Give me a minute and I’ll have it tidied….”

Seeing her embarrassment, he felt like an ogre. A bewildered ogre. This was her kitchen: why was she being so apologetic? Was he, after all, a man who demanded that his wife keep their home neat as a pin despite the presence of two small children? Was he responsible for the unlived-in atmosphere that permeated their house? He hadn’t thought so. Yet—

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll clear up and then give you dinner.”

“How about feeding me first, cleaning up after? I can’t remember when I last ate!”

Which was not all he couldn’t remember! But he’d get around to telling her that shortly.

“The children and I had meat loaf. So…meat loaf, potatoes, peas? I’ll heat it in the microwave.”

“Sounds great.”

As she arranged some food on a plate and slid the plate into the microwave, he glanced at the items scattered on the table. Pens, pencils, a notebook. A packet of tissues. Three yellow suckers, two chocolate bars. Lipstick in a silver case. A child’s pink hairbrush. A red bankbook, a blue vinyl wallet. A few loose coins, a five-dollar bill.

Idly, he flicked up the bill, intending to tuck it inside the wallet. But when the wallet fell open to reveal a photo behind a clear plastic window, he paused, his eyes fixed on the two people in the snap.

Sarah…and himself.

She was wearing an amethyst sundress, her blond hair cut gamine style. He was in cutoffs and a Rolling Stones T-shirt, his hair pulled back in a ponytail.

A ponytail? That didn’t feel like his style—

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sarah’s voice was sharp.

“When was this taken?” He spread out the open wallet flat on the table and pushed it toward her.

“Six years ago. On our honeymoon.”

“Where?”

“In San Francisco.”

Her voice was tight and angry, but it held no hint of puzzlement…and that astonished him. Why wasn’t she saying, “You know where that was taken! You were there!”?

But before he could speak, the microwave beeped. She swiveled her back to him, took out his dinner and set it on the table in front of him. Taking a knife and fork from a drawer in the island, she dumped them by his plate.

“Do you want a glass of milk?” she asked, curt as a waitress who expected no tip.

“Thanks.”

Equally curtly, she served the milk.

Then keeping her eyes averted, she transferred all her belongings from the table to her bag and, after setting the bag on a chair, stashed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

Silently, he ate, all the while wondering at her odd reaction to his questions but coming up with no explanation.

By the time he’d cleaned his plate and polished off his milk, she’d tidied the kitchen and was tossing the last Lego block into its container.

“Dessert?” she asked as she swept up his plate and glass. “We had apple crisp.”

“No thanks. I don’t eat dessert.”

How did he know that?

And more importantly, how come she didn’t?

Oh, he was getting weary of this whole thing. Tilting back his chair, he watched her through speculative eyes as she crossed to the window. Outside, the night was dark and all he could see was black beyond the shiny pane.

“Sit down,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

“Half a sec.” Turning sideways, she reached up for the cord to close the venetian blind. And as she did, her billowing shirt floated up.

Revealing her figure.

In profile.

Jedidiah stared, hardly able to believe his eyes.

He’d thought, when she walked down the stairs to greet him on his return from the hospital, that under her oversize shirt, her figure would be delectably slim and curvy.

It certainly wasn’t slim. But oh, yes, it was curvy.

Curvy didn’t even begin to describe his wife’s figure.

It was obvious to anyone with half a brain that Sarah Morgan was pregnant. And if he knew anything about babies, this one was due to arrive in the not-too-distant future.

Only one question remained to be answered…and now was the time to ask it!

He got up from his chair and cleared his throat loudly.

Aggressively.

She turned, then looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

“I see,” he said, “that you’re pregnant. If you don’t mind my asking—” his voice rang with challenge “—who is the father of this lucky child?”