Red Midnight (38 page)

“Casey, would you mind? It’s been a while since Erin and I have seen one another …” He let his tone run out with a touch of insinuation which Casey obviously thought to be rivetingly sexual. She actually colored, and her return smile was dazzling with the deliciousness of the innuendo.

“Oh, of course! Let me get out of here! See you all later … much later, I guess!” She walked by Erin, who hadn’t yet been able to shake off the paralysis that held her.

Casey brushed against her, and that finally put her into motion. She managed to give her friend a smile of thanks as she walked with her to the door.

“Oh, Erin,” Casey whispered in a rapid hush. “Is he something! I can’t wait to hear all about your afternoon. He must be gorgeous naked, absolutely gorgeous!”

“Casey,” Erin mumbled in admonition, praying Jarod hadn’t heard the excited whisper. She opened her mouth to say more, but then sighed. Casey would always be Casey. “Thanks again, Case,” was all she said, but she voiced the words firmly as she ushered Casey into the hall. “Talk to you later.” Erin closed the door even as her friend’s mouth opened to keep on going. With the door firmly shut behind her, Erin turned and leaned against it, drawing support as she once more faced her husband. He seemed towering at the moment, smoothly assured and sophisticated as always in his handsome suit with his striking granite features.

She had to say something. Where were all her practiced speeches? Where was the cool she had promised herself when they faced one another again?

“You, ah, should have written or called,” she murmured, wincing as she stammered out the words huskily. “I would have arranged to be home so that you wouldn’t have to waste any time. I … uh …”

“I have lots and lots of time,” he interrupted her quietly.

A silence fell between them, as wide as the space that separated them. It was Jarod who broke the silence. “How are you?”

Erin lifted both hands with a shrug and forced a small smile to her lips. “Fine, thank you.”

He blinked, and then his eyes gazed down to the floor for a moment before he glanced back up to her. “I mean,” he said, smiling slightly himself, “how have you been feeling?” I’m groping, Jarod thought. I sound like an idiot. Why don’t I just come out and ask her if she still wants the baby, if she’s done anything … I can’t even think it, he groaned inwardly.

She answered him in an uneasy rush. “I’m really fine, just fine. No sickness, no tiredness, nothing. I—I really wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t been assured by two doctors. Doctor Hanson—he’s here in Manhattan—he, uh, he says I’m just very lucky and that everything is fine. I think I will have a cup of tea. Can I get you some more coffee? I’m sure Casey made a very large pot. Did you have a good flight over? How are Sergei and Tanya and the rest of the troops? I wrote Tanya, but I haven’t received anything back yet.” As she spoke, Erin hurried into the kitchen and set the kettle on to boil. She was unnerved as Jarod followed her, hovering near. That marvelous scent that had haunted her memory overwhelmed her so that if she didn’t keep talking she would fall over.

He stood near the counter, a brow slightly arched with gentle amusement. “Sure,” he murmured. “I’ll have some more coffee. And everyone is fine.” Erin kept her eyes on the cup while she poured more coffee from the pot. Her fingers were shaking badly, but what was worse, as she took a step closer to hand the cup to Jarod, she tripped. The coffee ran all over Jarod.

“Oh, no!” Erin gasped in horrified apology. She glanced down to see what had caused her to trip. Bill—Casey’s scrounging Persian—had not made it out the door with his mistress. Funny, Erin thought, she hadn’t even noticed the cat. But then she hadn’t noticed anything but Jarod, who was hastily slipping out of his jacket before the coffee soaked the material and scalded his flesh.

“Oh, Jarod!” Erin wailed, but he was laughing.

“I feel like I’ve really come home,” he murmured, tossing the jacket on the counter and ripping quickly at his tie and shirt, which a second later were also on the counter. Erin stared at his bare chest, thinking how badly she wanted to reach out and touch the crisp curling hairs that stretched across the muscled breadth and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Then she thought, Oh, yes, Casey, he is gorgeous naked, he is trim and wired and hard as a drum and wonderful to crush against.

“I, umm, I tripped,” she stammered, swallowing and taking a step backwards. “Bill was beneath my feet. Bill is Casey’s cat, but he thinks he lives here half the time. I didn’t see him in the kitchen. He’s a bit of a pain, but he really is a beautiful cat. Nice company. I am so sorry about your suit—I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He planted his hands on his hips. A broad smile touched his lips, his eyes sparkled with the beauty of crystal. “You didn’t burn me, Erin, any more than just seeing you ever burns me. As to the suit”—he shrugged—“maybe we should move to Texas. Or California or Florida. I could probably get away without dress shirts in those climates—much more economical with you around.”

Erin stared at him blankly. She felt as if she had lost all control of her breathing once more.

Suddenly he took a step toward her, and his arms came around her. One hand held the small of her back, pressing her close against him, close against the heat of his hips; the other held her nape; his fingers raked through her hair, and her head was tilted to his.

“My interfering but sometimes uncannily perceptive cousin told me that you loved me, Erin,” he said huskily. “Is that true?”

She stared at him, at the deep warm cobalt in his eyes. She felt his chest so hard against hers, the coarse jet hairs she had longed to touch touching her flesh through the soft knit of her summer dress. His hands held her firmly, pressing her to him, to the desire that she could feel growing against her.

Anything that she might have planned to say to this man entirely escaped her. She closed her eyes for a second, but nothing helped. She inhaled his scent deeply, and she gasped out a yes that turned to a sob, and despite his hold on her hair she buried her face against his neck and repeated her broken yes.

“Erin,” he murmured, and his arms held her even closer. “Oh, Erin …” It was a reverent murmur, a brush of velvet that whispered through her hair and touched her cheek as he nuzzled against her bent head. For several moments, lost to time, they stood that way, as if afraid to let go and clinging to something infinitely precious in the determination that it not be lost. But then Jarod untangled himself from her arms and took her hands and she saw that his eyes held no guard as well as no ice; they were open and giving and more gentle than she had ever seen them, and they were filled with the tender love she could barely believe could be for her.

“We need to talk, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Could you handle getting me another cup of coffee?”

She nodded. Trembling, she poured more coffee and removed the whistling kettle—which neither had noticed—from the stove. How can I be doing this, she wondered, when I am not sure how I am standing? He loves me, and I can’t believe it. Oh, dear God, don’t let it be a dream.

He carried his coffee and her tea into the living room, seated her on the sofa, and stooped before her. “You have a lot to forgive me for, Erin.”

“No,” she protested, but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.

Then he rose, sipping from his mug as he moved about the room. “I love you, Erin, I want to live my life with you, I want not only this child, but perhaps one or two more. I want to sleep with you, wake to your beautiful silver eyes every morning …”

“Oh, Jarod,” Erin murmured. It was all she could think of to say. His words were all she could ask of God for a lifetime. Why did he keep talking, she wondered in a daze. What else could matter? He was here, all she wanted to do was bury herself within him.

“Erin,” he said softly, “you have to listen to me—I want you to understand. I believe I have loved you for a long time. But I didn’t want to love you. I did love Cara, very much. When I lost her, I couldn’t handle it. I was afraid to love. The only relationships I could have were those in which I could do nothing but take.”

He came back beside her again, taking both their cups and setting them on the small coffee table before the couch, and then taking both her hands between his. “Erin, I didn’t mean to be so cruel the day you came to me about the baby. All I could remember when you told me was the way that Cara had died. And then I assumed that you didn’t want the child—couldn’t possibly want my child—and that you, who were beautiful and healthy and alive, would abort the child. I don’t think I knew it at the time, but I wanted you to tell me that you did intend to keep the baby and that we would have to give our marriage a real chance.”

“Jarod,” Erin murmured, “I did want the baby all the time, I would have never …”

“I believe you, darling, I believe you. That’s why you have so much to forgive me for! Oh, Erin! You thought you were the cripple with nothing to offer because you were terrified to make love. But Erin, you were never the one lacking. I could take you, I could make love to you, but I was the cripple. You never lost the capacity for love itself—I had. But I think it was really from that night, from that very first night we lay together, that I began to love you. Erin, you gave me so very much….”

Erin opened her mouth to speak, to assure him, to tell him that nothing mattered any more except for the incredible fortune that he had come to love her, but he wasn’t done. He set her hands down firmly and began to stalk the room again, and she found herself thinking just what a magnificent man he was, with his handsomely toned, cat-graceful body and rugged features, remarkable eyes, and fine, sound character.

“I was jealous of Gil,” he said with self-contempt. “With no real right. Oh, I think he would have gladly had an affair with you—but half the men in the world probably feel that way. I should have known I could trust you.” He fell silent for a minute, looking out the glass unseeingly. “I misjudged Gil pathetically—and we all paid for it. I’ve apologized to him, but …” He shrugged, and Erin saw again how strong a man he was to recognize his own faults and be pained by them.

He looked back to her suddenly. “Erin—I did use you. I knew you couldn’t be a spy—and you could have left the Soviet Union long before you did. I simply couldn’t let you go.”

Erin was no longer able to stay seated. She flew from the couch, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him as her eyes sought his and her words spewed out vehemently. “I don’t care, Jarod! Oh, don’t you see, I don’t care about anything that happened in the past! You’re here, Jarod.” She broke off abruptly and stared at him with confusion misting the silver of her eyes to a charcoal gray. “Oh, Jarod! Why did you send me home? Why did you let me go through this month of thinking you didn’t care?”

“Because,” he said softly, “I couldn’t believe that you really loved me. That you would want a life with me: That you could give up all the glamour of your life to have our child.”

Erin tilted her head back and started to chuckle throatily. “Jarod—you do need to be forgiven—for the torture my life has been all this time! I couldn’t care less about my career! I was busy retiring while you were sitting here getting acquainted with Casey.”

He took her by the shoulders and held her away from him, searching out her eyes. “Really, Erin? I have to admit that I’m too selfish to allow you in any more bubble baths! The only man I want seeing you clad in soap is me!”

Erin chuckled again and lowered her eyes demurely. “I was always dressed in those commercials!” she murmured chastely.

“But not in enough!” he charged. But then he was pulling her back against him and adding gruffly, “Mary said you always wanted to teach. Is that true?”

“Ummm,” Erin nodded against his chest. “But that doesn’t even matter …”

“It does matter,” he said softly. “And one day, we’ll see that you get to teach. But God, honey,” he added, inhaling deeply of the soft perfumed scent of her hair, “I never had a teacher like you. We’ll have a pack of adolescents falling in love with …”

“I doubt it—I’ll be too old to them!”

They laughed together, and the sound was wonderful to them both. It made them gaze at each other with a new shyness. And then a guarded mist shrouded Jarod’s eyes once more. “Do you realize, Mrs. Steele, that your child will be a quarter Russian?”

Erin sensed both the pride and the insecurity in him. “I know that,” she said softly, a beautiful smile curving her lips. “And I insist that you teach him—or her—the language. And how to play that beautiful instrument. And all the history and heritage…. We tend to lose so much of our pasts, Jarod. I want our child—or children, but I warn you, I think three will be quite sufficient!—to know all about both sets of grandparents! And to value their ancestry. I want them to know all that went into making their father such a fabulous man.”

“Erin…. My God, sweetheart,” he said, a husky timbre to his voice, “how I do love you.”

Erin smiled. “Can you think of anything else?”

“Yes, lots of things. I’ll need to go back to the U.S.S.R., but I can arrange to be here for the next year. I want to make sure that our child is born on American soil. And I’m afraid we can’t really move to California—the United Nations is headquartered here. And—”

Erin placed, the tip of her forefinger over his lips. “Jarod, I know we will have a great deal to discuss. I want to know more about your parents, and I want to know more about Cara. I know you will always love her a little, and that’s okay, Jarod. I’m glad you had such a wonderful love, I believe that that wonderful love is the same that we will share…. And I also want to know about Catherine, Jarod, even if knowing will hurt me.”

“Catherine?” he queried, a devilish tilt to his eyes. He half closed them lazily. “I’ll introduce you to Catherine—tomorrow.”

Erin swallowed suddenly. “Catherine is here? In the U.S.?”

“Ummmm,” Jarod teased. “One of her is.”

“One? You mean there are two Catherines?”

“Ummmm, but you love me and trust me, right? So for the moment, we can forget all about Catherine and Catherine.”