His Wife for a While (9 page)

"I want to have a baby," she whispered. "I'll do whatever I have to."

"But do you want the memory of conceiving your child to be so cold... so clinical as what you seem to have in mind?"

"Ben, two people do not have to be in love to make a baby."
Chelsea
pushed back the wall of emotion that threatened to pen her in.

"No, we don't have to be in love," he agreed. "But is there some reason we can't at least enjoy ourselves?"

Before she could answer, he continued, "
Chelsea
this can be a warm and happy experience for us both."

"I don't need to enjoy myself. It's not necessary for me to have an…" She stopped suddenly and shifted her gaze to the floor. "I don't have to enjoy myself to conceive a child."

"Orgasm,
Chelsea
," he supplied. "The word you're looking for is orgasm. And you're right, it isn't necessary for you to have an orgasm to conceive."

Chelsea
pulled her hand from his and slid back even farther into the corner of the sofa.

"But," he said, his tone a bit harder, "it
is
necessary for me to have an orgasm if you're to become pregnant. I'm not a stud horse. I'm not an animal. I'm a human being. A man with feelings and emotions."

Feeling as though she would choke on the panic that churned in her chest,
Chelsea
placed the flat of her palm at the base of her throat.

"Look at me, Chels."

She slowly raised her eyes to his and felt unshed tears burning the backs of her eyelids. She would not lose control of herself. She would not!

"It really isn't fair of you," he said, "to expect me to reveal the most intimate part of myself to you when you aren't willing to reveal the most intimate part of yourself to me."

"Oh, so it's 'you show me yours and I'll show you mine,' huh?" She knew very well she was being unfair to him, knew her question was mean spirited, but her words were an ingrained self-defense mechanism that she was unable to stop.

"This has nothing to do with physical body parts and you know it," he said. "This has to do with feelings. The most intimate of feelings, in fact."

"Feelings."
Chelsea
spat the word out in a way that was certain to convey her disgust. She wanted to insult him. She wanted to start an argument. Make him angry. She wanted to make him shout at her, call her names, anything rather than talk about this subject any longer. She was afraid that if they continued down this avenue she would surely fall apart.

"I'm not going to fight about this," he said calmly. "It's obvious that you don't trust me. And until you do…" he slid his hand down his thigh and cupped it over his knee "…I don't see how it would be possible for us to sleep together."

"But that's not fair!"
Chelsea
sat up straight, her gaze locking with his. "We made a deal. You said you'd make me pregnant."

"And I'm not saying I won't," he said. "I have no intention of backing out of our deal. But I'm going to have to add a stipulation of my own."

"You're going to force me to...
enjoy myself
?" she asked, her tone intentionally snide.

He obviously couldn't help the smile that gently curled his mouth. "No." He shook his head. "All I'm asking is that we get to know one another. I want you to know who's making love to you. And I want to know who I'm making love to." Then his gaze intensified, as he added, "I want you to trust me."

"But... but..."

He touched her thigh with his strong, tanned hand. "It won't take long, Chels. You'll see. Soon you'll understand that I'm not a bad person. I only want to help you the way you've helped me." He stood up and looked down at her. "Good night, Chels. I'll see you in the morning."

She silently watched him cross the room, heard his footsteps fade down the hallway. Every muscle in her body felt stretched to the limit. Tears screamed for release.

He didn't know what he was asking. She knew he wasn't a bad person. In fact, she'd already noticed just how wonderful he was. But she couldn't get to know him. She couldn't let him get to know her. And she certainly couldn't ever come to trust him. Because that would mean she'd have to reveal herself to him. And
Chelsea
knew revealing herself meant becoming vulnerable.

Her chin quivered and a single tear trailed slowly down her cheek. Vulnerable was the one thing she'd long ago promised herself she'd never become.

Chapter Four

Ben sat at the kitchen table, lingering over his morning coffee. It had been three days since his wedding… three days since he and
Chelsea
had discussed their differing views on sleeping together. And now he felt as though they were at some sort of stalemate. She'd been quiet and reserved around him before this whole marriage business, but now she avoided him altogether. That's why he'd decided to dawdle a bit this morning and pour himself an unprecedented second cup of coffee, in an effort to force her to talk to him.

He should probably feel bad about insisting on their getting to know one another before they tried to conceive a baby. He knew that physiologically it wasn't necessary for them to know or even like one another before they made love. But
Chelsea
had made the act sound so impersonal. He couldn't imagine having sex with an unresponsive woman. She seemed intent to detach herself from the whole proceedings.

Ben found that idea humiliating, although he sensed that
Chelsea
didn't mean for him to feel that way. The sigh that issued from him was forceful enough to be audible. Who knew what she meant, or what she was thinking? Her intense desire to become pregnant was blinding her to the fact that they were two human beings… human beings with emotions that needed to be recognized and dealt with. The scenario she painted just seemed wrong to him. It
felt
wrong, and he refused to be a part of it.

He really couldn't understand
Chelsea
. She obviously wanted a baby very much, but she didn't seem to show the loving and caring emotions he thought would be necessary to parent a child.

Doubting
Chelsea
's abilities as a mother brought to mind a question that he hadn't thought of before: How did he feel about becoming a father? The circumstances under which he would be fathering this child were so strange that he really couldn't explain how he felt.
Chelsea
had made it very clear that she didn't want his active participation as a parent. He'd have to learn to live with the fact that he would be a father, but he wouldn't be acting as a father. He frowned at the unexpected emptiness that the thought left him with.

More than anything, he had to realize that neither
Chelsea
's mothering instincts nor his thoughts of being a daddy should be his concern. He'd struck a deal with
Chelsea
, and he knew he must fulfill his end. And he planned to, just as soon as he and Chelsea could feel comfortable enough with each other to engage in the intimacies of sex.

The phone rang and he picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ben, it's May. Is
Chelsea
there?"

"Yes…"

"Is she awake?" May's tone sounded a bit frantic.

"She's up," he said. "I heard her rummaging around in her room. What's wrong, Aunt May?"

"I really need to talk to her."

"Okay," he said. "I'll call her to the phone."

Ben set down the phone receiver and went to fetch
Chelsea
. On his way through the house, he wondered why May would be calling
Chelsea
. As far as he knew the two of them were little more than working acquaintances. But then, now that he actually thought about it,
Chelsea
didn't seem to have any close friends. Everyone seemed to be a mere acquaintance to her. She didn't seem to let anyone into that invisible circle that was so tightly drawn around her.

He stopped outside
Chelsea
's bedroom and knocked.

She opened the wooden door, but Ben could clearly see from the expression on her face that the tension that had been between them since their sex discussion was locked tight into place.

"I thought you had left for work," she said.

Ben shook his head. "May's on the phone."

"For me?" Her brow furrowed.

"Um-hmm."

He stood there in the hallway and watched her walk away from him. His eyes were drawn down the length of her retreating figure. Her shiny chestnut hair hung loose, the soft curls at the ends bouncing with each step. The supple fabric of her well-worn jeans hugged her hips and thighs like butter on bread. And those hips swayed gently from side to side. He could tell her modest sashay was not intentional, but was induced by a visceral femininity. One corner of his mouth pulled into a tiny grin as he realized just how appealing he found the natural provocative movement of her body.

She rounded the corner and disappeared from his view, but his imagination easily took over, and he envisioned himself intimately embracing his wife. He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorjamb and let the image take shape. Her big brown eyes gazed up at him lovingly, and he ran his fingers along her jaw and down the silky alabaster skin of her neck. He wondered if she might gasp and lean back her head if he slid his palm even lower, over the full roundness of her breast. He imagined her eyes fluttering closed as he kissed her mouth. Closing his own eyes, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he fantasized about how her naked body would feel pressed against his, her hands playing over him, smoothing over his chest, his stomach, in a slow, erotic motion that stirred him…

"Ben?"

He snapped to attention. "What?" Startled from his reverie by the sound of Chelsea's voice, he knew his answer was a couple decibels louder than necessary. He was relieved that the shadowy hallway would hide the blaze of embarrassment that must surely be written all over his face.

A curious look crept across
Chelsea
's features, but thankfully she didn't ask him what he was doing standing there with a stupid, lustful smirk on his face.

For once, Ben was a tad grateful for his wife's cool, aloof nature.

"I have to go over to May's,"
Chelsea
told him.

"Is something wrong?"

"There's a bird or something trapped in her chimney."

She swiped a lock of hair back from her face, and a deep disappointment shot through him knowing that the tenebrous shadows that hid his embarrassment a moment ago would keep him from seeing her dark eyes up close right now.

"It's probably a squirrel," he said.

"She told me she thought she heard wings flapping."

"Oh." He frowned as he walked toward her. "Could be a bat."

She nodded. "May called an exterminator who said he could come this afternoon but that he couldn't guarantee the safety of whatever's in there. So she called me, knowing I spend a lot of time around animals at the nature center
and
that I'd do something now."