Bittersweet Chocolate (35 page)

“I haven’t decided, but when I do, Megan is quite capable of taking up the slack, and I’ll be in touch with her on a regular basis.” Her eyes narrowed. “Matthew, a few words of advice. I like Megan. I wouldn’t want her to get hurt.”

He sat forward in his chair, smoldering anger barely disguised. “I assure you, I do not intend to create any problems here at work.”

She always could read him, and gave him props for trying to act indifferent. “Good.”

“So, how are you? Tell me about your life since the last time I saw you.” He grinned. “When do I get to meet the man able to tame you?”

She sighed. That’s how he planned to play it, snide remarks, and innuendo. Uh-uh, she refused to feed into it. If he knew it irritated her, he’d do it that much more.

They talked for an hour. She learned he’d been married and divorced, not a surprise. He said he had three children. Then he dropped the bomb. He had been married when he was chasing after her. She sat in stunned silence, absorbing that tidbit of information while he rambled on.

“You haven’t changed much, Marissa. More mature, but just as lovely.”

Ignoring his compliment, she stood to leave, her mind still processing the information about him being a married man, pursuing a fifteen-year-old. Twenty years later, he shows up trying to run the same tired game on her, watching her the way he used to, and trying to bait her.

Managing to keep her irritation hidden, she said, “Don’t try to play me, Matthew. Don’t even go there. I’m not a kid anymore.” Oh yeah, he’d retained his good looks, but no longer fifteen, she wasn’t impressed. The only thing he would elicit from her this time around was indifference. He knew it, and she knew he knew it, and he could be vengeful if he didn’t get his way. Recalling how their last meeting ended, him telling her to watch her back, she suspected she now had reason to take his long-ago threat seriously.

That reminded her of her latest dream. Had her purported, psyche voodoo precognition been giving her a heads up? Big damn deal, it still didn’t come with superpowers. She snorted. Damn, must be tired, time to go home.

“See you tomorrow, Matthew.”

“Rushing home to the husband?”

“Good night.”

The moment she reached home, she went straight into the bathroom, stripped, and showered. Must have been nuts at fifteen, because seeing Matthew through adult eyes,
eww.
Okay, being irrational, thinking she could wash away the distaste of his touch. Blame it on pregnancy mood swings.

Snatching the shower cap from her head, she sat at the vanity, brushing her hair while she pondered what to expect from him on a daily basis, and how she should deal with his crap. If the bastard thought he could get the best of her at this late date, he needed a reality check.

She dressed in a clean top and slacks then went into the kitchen to prepare dinner, mulling over her dilemma with Matthew.

* * * *

Tristan called out
hello
as he passed through the living room. Marissa didn’t respond, and he didn’t want to approach her until he’d showered. He’d been out in the field most of the day, at the Fallbrook Naval Weapons Station, training and mucking around with ammunitions.

Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, he returned to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, watching her move about, tension building because she remained unaware of him. He had believed all the secrets and daydreaming were a done deal.

He sighed and started forward, intending to confront her about her inattention, then hesitated, remembering his conversation with Vi about Marissa’s pregnancy. Damn. Was she having the same misgivings, was that the cause of her distraction? Tempering his rising anger, he stepped behind her and whispered close to her ear, “What’s up, Rissa?”

“Tris!” She banged his chin when she jumped. “You have got to quit doing that.” She turned, threw herself into his arms, and he could feel her trembling.

“Hey, what’s this about? Are you feeling okay, is it the baby?”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. The baby is fine, and I feel great,” she stated. “But remember me telling you about Hal’s plans to retire? Well, my new boss started today, and I know him from Philly.”

He stiffened.

“Hey, it’s not Joel.” She snorted. “Do you honestly imagine Joel and I could have been in the same room, and I wouldn’t be calling you from jail?” She shook her head. “No, I dated this jerk before Joel.”

“Matthew?”

“Yeah, you remembered.”

“You didn’t tell me much about your life before you met Joel. But the little you said about Matthew, I remembered because he was older, and the only boyfriend your dad disliked.”

“Before Joel, wasn’t much to tell. As for Matthew, he didn’t last long and wasn’t happy with me when we broke up.”

“A twenty-year-old man trying to get into the pants of a young girl,” he grumbled.

“You sound like Brittany.”

“It was true, wasn’t it?”

“Too true.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean, he wasn’t happy with the breakup?” he growled. “What the hell happened?”

“I wouldn’t have sex with him, and he took it badly. In all fairness to the man, I did tell you what I was like back when.”

“That’s all that happened? He was angry, and it’s bothering you now?” He frowned down at the top of her head. “Rissa, that happened twenty years ago.”

“It’s not about back when, but today at work. He mentioned we had unfinished business, I called him on it, and he backed down, said he was joking.”

“Maybe he—hey, he damn well better be joking,” he snapped. “If this asshole hassles you, I’ll have a private chat with him.”

Tristan watched her wrestle with her thoughts and knew the exact moment she came to some kind of conclusion. Thinking about his conversation with Vi, he didn’t want anything upsetting Marissa at this stage.

“Honey, listen to me. I don’t want you worrying about a damn thing, or anybody, so relax. I’ll take care of you, the baby, and any problems.”

“You’re right.”

Too easy. “Rissa.” Her heart-stopping smile derailed his train of thought and he couldn’t resist kissing her inviting mouth.

“Love me, Tris. Now, please.”

He started to undress her, uttered a curse, recalling they were in the kitchen. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her into the bedroom. Their lovemaking was swift, fulfilling, and savage as ever.

“Damn it, did I hurt you?”

“No, and I wish you’d stop worrying.”

He grinned at her no-nonsense tone. “I love you,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

* * * *

Marissa remained beside him, watching him sleep.

Tristan had given her the perfect opening to tell him about her relationship with Matthew, and the outcome, but why push her luck. It wasn’t important and she shouldn’t have let Matthew get to her. Pregnancy mood swings had her blowing quite a few things out of proportion. More to the point, Tristan’s attitude about her and the baby had become too aggressively overprotective. If she told him everything—uh-uh, she could handle Matthew.

She leaned over and kissed Tristan before getting up and going into the bathroom. A hot shower, a quick towel dry, she slipped on her robe, and sauntered into the kitchen to store the food and clean up. It was then she thought the phrase living on love was true. If not, surely she’d starve.

Great, six-month checkup had arrived. It didn’t start out so good.

Her examination took longer than usual, and then Doctor Carey suggested a sonogram. She wanted to refuse, but the doctor’s attitude worried her.

“Why?” She struggled to control the quavering in her voice.

“Just to be on the safe side.”

“Safe side? You said it would be a cesarean delivery. What could go wrong?”

“Marissa, listen to me. With the trauma you’ve suffered in the past, it doesn’t hurt to monitor your progress closely from this point on. First timers are notorious for delivering early,” Doctor Carey explained. “Cesarean or not, I don’t want any surprises. For the next three months, I intend to keep an eye on the baby’s position.”

“Okay, but don’t tell me if it’s a boy or a girl. I want to be surprised.”

“It’s a deal,” Doctor Carey responded with a look of relief.

While they prepped her for the sonogram, several questions came to mind. Doctor Carey had made the decision to do a cesarean because of concerns about Marissa’s birth canal being so narrow. That, along with the damage she’d suffered during the rape, had persuaded the doctor not to take any chances with last minute complications. So why check the baby’s position? And why did Doctor Carey insist on doing the sonogram herself?

“Is something wrong, Doctor?”

“No, the baby is fine. The heartbeat is strong, but I want a clearer picture of what’s going on. You appear a bit large for six months. Is the baby very active?”

“Yes. Tristan thinks he’s doing acrobatics.”

“That’s another reason I need to monitor his position until you go into labor. Don’t want him tangled in the cord.”

Doctor Carey’s explanation seemed plausible, but...hell. Marissa shrugged, dressed, and met the doctor back in her office.

“Are there any incidents of twins in your family?”

Surprised by the question, it took her a moment to respond. “Uh yeah, my grandmother was a twin.” Until that moment, she, and probably all her family, had forgotten her grandmother and great-aunt were twins, because they weren’t identical. No one ever regarded it as significant.

“She’s not the only one anymore.” The doctor smiled.

Marissa left the doctor’s office in a daze. Wait until she told Tristan and Vi. Were they going to be amazed? Wow, twins, they would need a station wagon or a van. Her Mustang and his BMW, not designed for family transportation.

How she made it to the office would remain a mystery, and returning had been a mistake. Half of what she did lacked concentration, and Matthew’s snide comments, she ignored. She left work early. Settling into her car, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Geez, did she have that silly grin on her face since leaving the doctor’s office? Damn, Megan must’ve thought she had lost her mind.

On her way home, she stopped at La Bodega Wine and Spirits on Central Ave and bought a bottle of that Merlot Tristan enjoyed. He would need it.

By the time she reached home, she had to forego a hot bath, only had time to shower before Tristan arrived. The phone rang as she passed through the living room and she snatched up the handset on the second ring.

“Hello.” No response, just harsh breathing that reminded her of that other call...damn, she’d forgotten to tell Tristan about it.

Well hell, not tonight, some asshole wasn’t going to ruin her good mood. She slammed down the phone, stalked into the bedroom, and started undressing. She sat at the vanity, brushed her hair, twisted it into a knot on top of her head, and pulled on her shower cap. About to step into the stall, she heard a door close.

“Tris.” Receiving no reply, she wrapped a bath sheet around her body and walked into the living room. Brow furrowed, bottom lip gripped between her teeth, she stood motionless, looking around. She shrugged and turned to leave when her gaze homed in on the front door. Puzzled, she stared at the lock, sure she’d secured it before she’d left that morning.

Hmm. Flipping the lock, she dismissed it from mind, and returned to the bathroom, refusing to let anything interfere with her good news.

Marissa stepped out of the shower, dried off, and slipped into one of her new nighties—the little black number with the shoestring straps and the matching kimono. She walked into the living room just as Tristan stepped into the kitchen from the garage, and she grinned, thinking about the new turn of events.

“What are you smiling about?” He kissed her, then held her at arm’s length and whistled. “Nice, that’s new.”

“Tris, my grandmother was a twin.” His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t make any comment. “Well, she’s not the only one anymore.” Gaze probing, he stared and she struggled to keep a straight face. She realized her response to his comment about her revealing outfit had to be confusing. The sudden tightening of his grip alerted her to his understanding.

“Rissa, are you sure?”

“Doctor Carey confirmed it today.”

Dazed, he dropped down on the sofa and remained speechless for several seconds before he leapt to his feet and shouted, “Yes! I’m good, aren’t I?”

“Hey, don’t go all arrogant on me, mister,” she teased. “You didn’t do this by yourself.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “That’s why you’re so big,” he mumbled and sat down again. “I’ll have to call Vi and let her know.”

“Oh, what have you and Auntie Vi been up to?”

“Honey, Vi has been concerned. She thought something might be wrong, and she called me about a month ago to discuss it,” he explained. “At the time, I didn’t want to upset you, decided to wait...”

She put her fingers to his lips. “Tris, stop. You don’t have to explain yourself or Vi to me. I know how much both of you care, and are more worried about this pregnancy than I am.” She moved to the sofa and scooted onto his lap. “But there’s also bad news.”

He sobered and grabbed her hand. “It’s not going to complicate the birth, is it?”

“No, the doctor’s going ahead with plans for a C-section. There shouldn’t be any difficulties.”

“Marissa, what’s the bad news?”

“We’ll have to curtail our sexual activity for the next couple of months.”

“That’s it.
That’s
the bad news.”

“Is that it?” she squeaked. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been able to keep my hands off you since the day we met. How can I be around you on a daily basis and not make love?”

“Marissa.”

“Shit, now all I need to hear...”

“Dahlin’.”

“There you go.” She groaned and snuggled closer.

“You scared the shit out of me with your bad news crap. There are other ways to satisfy each other without penetration. If necessary, I’d invent something.”

Heat strafed her cheeks. “Oh yeah, my excitement about the twins, I wasn’t thinking clearly. Do you think they’ll be identical or fraternal?”