The Baby Bargain (4 page)

Lights seemed to flash beneath her eyelids and the low ache in her stomach became a burning pressure. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she brought her arms up to circle his neck, her movements made clumsy by the bulky weight of his coat.

Without breaking the kiss, Dan bent to scoop her up in his arms. He carried her up the walkway, finding his way more by instinct than sight. Her slight weight barely slowed him going up the stairs.

He had to put her down momentarily to find the keys to the front door. Kelly leaned against the doorjamb, her breathing ragged. The warning bell rang frantically, the sound drowned out by the pounding of her own pulse in her ears.

The door was pushed open and Dan swept her into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind them. The denim jacket and Kelly's own coat landed on the floor with a soft thud. His hands framed her face, his mouth slanting across hers, his tongue plunging inside.

Kelly was helpless to do anything but respond. She was caught between the wall at her back and Dan's scarcely less taut frame. His hands swept up and down her sides as he kissed her, long drugging kisses that drained but at the same time filled her body with a strange burning sensation.

His fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress, sliding it down the length of her spine. The garment slipped down her arms. Kelly shivered, wrenching her mouth free as his hands slid between the two of them to cup her breasts. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her whole body rigid.

For an instant, sanity almost made itself heard. She was rushing toward something for which she was woefully unprepared.

If Dan felt her sudden tension, he misunderstood its cause.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "So beautiful." His thumbs brushed across her nipples.

The sensation was so intense, it was almost painful. She felt his touch, not only at her breasts, but deep inside, like an echo in the pit of her stomach. She continued to shiver, her back arching in an unconscious gesture of surrender.

He'd called her beautiful—no one else had ever said she was beautiful.

"Unbutton my shirt," he muttered against her throat.

Her fingers shaking, Kelly did as he asked. When the shirt hung open to where it was tucked into his belt, she flattened her palms against his chest. She felt the shudder that went through Dan at her touch. It gave her a wonderful feeling of power to feel this man tremble because of her.

Her hands slid to his shoulders as he drew her forward until her breasts were gently crushed against his muscled chest. For a moment, neither of them moved, neither of them breathed.

"I want you." With those words, Dan scattered the last warning bell in Kelly's mind. She had never felt wanted, truly wanted, in her life.

"Yes." The word was a surrender. An offering. A plea.

She couldn't have said how they got from the hallway to the bedroom. It didn't matter. Her dress had disappeared somewhere along the way, along with her underwear, leaving her naked and vulnerable. She didn't care. She was beautiful and he wanted her.

Dan lifted her onto the bed before stepping back to strip off the rest of his clothes. And then he came to her, his muscled body pressing her down against the sheets. She'd never felt anything so intense in her life. A million nerve endings sprang to life, each sensitized to his slightest touch.

She cried out when his mouth found her breast, drawing the nipple inside and suckling. Her fingers twined in his hair, her legs shifting restlessly. She felt hollow and aching inside. Empty and needful. She whimpered when Dan's hand slid across her stomach to tangle in the soft curls at the top of her thighs. She would have closed her legs in automatic reaction to this invasion but his fingers found the warm dampness of her and she could only tremble in helpless reaction to his touch.

Dan's head was spinning with need. He'd never wanted a woman like this, never felt such a powerful, burning need. It was as if something beyond his control had brought him to this woman, this moment

Her skin was soft and warm. She fluttered beneath his touch, her response holding an element of uncertainty that might have given him pause at another time. But he couldn't seem to think of anything beyond his searing need.

He rose above her, his hips sliding between her thighs. In her arms, he'd find a cure for the emptiness that nagged at him. He'd be whole again. At least for tonight.

Kelly's hands settled hesitantly on his shoulders, her eyes wide in the moonlight that spilled in through the open curtains. She bit her lips as she felt him press against her. Suddenly the warning bell returned, clanging through her mind, but it was too late.

Her hands shifted to his chest in an uncertain protest, but the gesture was lost on Dan who didn't recognize it for what it was. With desire pounding in his veins, believing she felt the same, he thrust deep.

Kelly gasped, her nails digging into his chest as pain stabbed through her, shattering the haze of passion that had led her this far. She tried to twist away but there was no escaping the sudden possession of her body.

Her teeth drew blood from her lower lip as he moved above her. The pain had eased but her body felt invaded, stretched, filled in ways she'd never imagined.

Above her, Dan was aware of the sudden rigidity of her body. He struggled to find a reason for it but his body wasn't interested in explanations. She fit him like a glove, all damp heat and soft friction. It had been so long.

Kelly bit back a whimper as she felt him swell within her, his body convulsing over her. There was a long moment when he lay above her, his breath coming in shallow pants. She closed her eyes, praying for this to end, praying that she'd wake up in her own narrow bed to find that this had all been nothing more than a vivid dream.

Dan rolled to the side, aware of her small gasp of discomfort as he withdrew. There was something wrong, something he should remember. His hand came out to catch her arm when she moved to leave the bed.

"Don't." He had to pause to put the words in order. "Don't go." The whiskey he had consumed earlier was suddenly hitting him like a sledgehammer. His speech was slurred, his vision fuzzy. But this was important.

"Need to talk," he managed, trying to fight the fog that seemed to be creeping over his mind.

"Not now," she mumbled, pulling back as far as his grip would allow.

"Later." Yes, they could talk later. In the morning. In the morning he'd be able to remember what it was that was so important. In the morning his brain would make sense of it all. They'd talk then.

Kelly held her breath, her eyes never leaving his face as his drifted shut. The hand on her arm loosened and she slid off the bed as if it were hot coals. Snatching her panties off the floor, she shoved her hair back from her face, trying to remember where her dress was. It was lying in the bedroom doorway and she scurried over to it, jerking it on with shaking hands.

What had she done?

The pleasant alcoholic fog that had made everything seem so right, so inevitable, had been shattered along with her virginity, leaving her nothing to hold between herself and reality.

She'd slept with a man she'd just met. No. Not slept with him. No pleasant little phrases. She'd had sex with him. Nothing more, nothing less. She'd let him pick her up in a bar and bring her back to his apartment like some kind of cheap tramp.

She swallowed back a sob, struggling with the zipper that ran up the back of the dress. The same zipper she'd rejoiced in feeling him slide down.

The straps on the thick, chunky shoes defeated her shaky fingers and she finally just snatched them up, stuffing one in each side pocket of her coat where they bulged awkwardly.

With a last wild look toward the bedroom door, Kelly fled the apartment. The cement steps were icy on her bare feet but she didn't notice the discomfort. She had to get home.

By the time she reached the overgrown driveway that led up to the trailer, she was chilled to the bone. Her feet were numb and she wondered vaguely if her toes were frostbitten. It didn't seem terribly important. All she wanted was to reach the shelter of her bed and pull the blankets over her head. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in the morning to find that none of this had happened.

Her father's truck was parked in front of the trailer and Kelly almost collapsed. If her father caught her...if he ever guessed what she'd done...

She crept around to the back, thankful that she'd thought to leave the window over her bed unlocked, though she'd planned to be home long before her father got back from his meeting. But then nothing had gone quite the way she'd planned.

It took her frozen fingers several seconds to find the edge of the window and get a solid grip on it. It slid open with a soft scraping sound that made her catch her breath. But no light was turned on and there was no sound to suggest that she'd been discovered.

Kelly lifted herself over the windowsill, sliding onto the bed. The air felt hot on her skin though she knew the little heater at the other end of the trailer barely kept the temperature above that outside. Kneeling on the bed, she eased the window shut, feeling her shoulders sag as it clicked into place.

She'd made it. Now all she had to do was forget this night had ever happened.

A soft click behind her flooded the little cubicle with light. Still on her knees, Kelly spun toward the light, her eyes wide and frightened. Her father sat on a chair just inside the doorway. He'd obviously been waiting for her to come home.

And just as obviously, he could read at least some of what had happened from her appearance. She lifted a hand to her face, aware of the forbidden makeup that must be smudged under her eyes. Her hair was a wild tangle about her face.

She shrank back against the wall as he reached for his belt but she didn't protest. She knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop what was about to happen.

March swept in like the proverbial lion, bringing with it snow flurries and below-freezing weather. Winter might have to surrender its hold but it wasn't going to do so without a fight. The land hunkered down to wait out winter's temper tantrum, knowing that spring lay just around the corner, no matter what the thermometer was saying.

Dan scowled out at the chill, gray sky, asking himself for the thousandth time why he didn't just pack up and leave. He could move to a warmer climate. Arizona was nice this time of year. There was nothing to keep him in Remembrance— nothing and no one.

"Hey, Dan. You wanna give me a hand with this engine?"

Casting a last frown at the sky, Dan turned in answer to Lee's call. He'd gone to school with Lee, who was struggling to get his own auto-repair business going. Dan's desultory help had somehow become a full-time job and he'd been working in Lee's repair shop since just before Christmas.

It wasn't the job that was keeping him, he thought as he helped Lee steady the engine they were lowering into a '67 Mustang. When he'd returned from the dead, his mother had given him everything she'd inherited from his father's estate. Her new husband was rolling in money, she'd told him bluntly, and she wanted him to have the money his father had left her. He was comfortable, if not wealthy.

He'd thought of taking some of that money and starting his own business. His father had been a pretty successful contractor with his own company. That had been sold at his death, of course, but there was no reason Dan couldn't start up his own company.

But what good would it do? he asked himself cynically. He could just as easily take the money and travel around the world, have a high old time for a few years and then die poor but well traveled.

He wiped his hands on a greasy rag, trying to shake the depression that was an all too frequent companion these days. He had to make some decisions about his life. He couldn't keep drifting like this. It was all very well and good to spend a few months helping Lee get his business going, but it was just another way to avoid making any decisions, any commitments.

"Why don't you go to lunch, man? I can handle it alone for a while."

Dan nodded in answer to Lee's suggestion. He wasn't particularly hungry but he welcomed an interruption to his thoughts. He stripped out of the overalls that protected his own jeans and flannel shirt. Pulling on his denim jacket, he hurried across the street to Rosie's.

A classic American greasy spoon, Rosie's was complete with cracked red vinyl booths and peeling black-and-white checked linoleum. The waitresses were all well into middle age with teased hair dyed improbable shades of red and lavender. Rosie's was also the best place in town—some said in the county—to get a good hamburger with all the trimmings.

Which meant that, at twenty after twelve, it was also one of the busiest places in town. Every seat at the counter was occupied, as were all die booths. Well, he could order his lunch to go.

"Dan!"

He turned toward the sound of his name, recognizing Brittany's voice and half wishing he could pretend to be deaf. She was seated at a booth in the back. As Dan made his way toward her, he wondered how it was possible that she seemed to grow more beautiful every time he saw her.

"Brittany. How are you?"

"Fine. Why don't you join me?"

"Sure." His hesitation was brief. He slid into the seat across from her, reaching for a menu, although he already knew what he was going to order.

"How have you been?" Brittany asked. "We haven't seen you since before Christmas. I thought you might have left town without telling anybody."

"I've been busy, I guess." Dan shut the menu and looked across the table at her. The sheer beauty of her was almost a blow. Wide-set gray eyes, a beautifully molded mouth and a thick mass of black hair that seemed made for a man to lose himself in. "How have you been? And Michael?"

He made himself add the last. He and Michael Sinclair had once been best friends, closer than most brothers. But that had been a long time ago, before he'd spent two years in that hellhole of a prison. Before he'd come home to find Michael married to the woman he'd loved, father to the child Dan hadn't known she was carrying.

"I'm fine. I've sold two articles since January."

"That's great. Next thing I know, I'll be seeing your name on the bestseller lists."

"Well, it's a long way from articles to bestsellers but you never know."

She broke off as the waitress came to take their orders, picking up the conversation as the woman left.

"Michael's fine, too. He and Donovan are working on a design for a new housing development outside Indianapolis."

"That's great." Dan tried to infuse the proper enthusiasm into his voice. It wasn't that he begrudged Michael his success. He knew as well as anyone how hard Michael had worked. He'd joined his father's architectural firm but he'd had to earn his place there. Still, it hurt to know that Michael had all the things that could have been his. That would have been his if it hadn't been for that damned plane crash.

"How is Danielle?" Really, the question was a masterpiece. A casual listener would never have guessed what it cost him to ask it. But Brittany wasn't a casual listener and she knew exacdy how difficult it was for him to be a casual visitor in Danielle's life. She was Dan's child by blood and Michael's by every other standard that mattered.

"Danielle's fine. She's growing so fast. Sometimes it seems as if I just turn around and she's grown another inch."

"I know. I saw her a couple of weeks ago." Dan shrugged in answer to her questioning look. "I just happened to be going by her nursery school while die kids were out playing. She's turning into a real little beauty."

"Danielle didn't mention seeing you."

"I didn't talk to her. I figured the teachers would probably call the police if a strange man started talking to one of the kids. I was just driving by."

"You're not a strange man," Brittany denied firmly. "You're...a friend of the family. Danielle knows you."

"Well, I didn't really have time to stop, anyway." Dan dismissed the incident. Not for anything in the world would he admit that he often drove by the nursery school when the children were outside. Brittany would probably think he was losing his mind. And maybe he was. But it was a sort of bittersweet pleasure to see Danielle. For a moment, he could almost imagine what his life would have been like if things had gone the way they should have.

"Michael misses you." Brittany interrupted his thoughts. "The two of you were best friends once."

"That was a long time ago. It's nobody's fault that things went the way they did, Brittany. I don't blame Michael for what happened. In fact, I'm glad he was there for you and Danielle," he said, surprised to realize how much he meant it "But things have changed. We're not the same people we were."

"I still think—"

"Don't," he cut in, a smile taking the sting out of his words. "Don't think about it. I don't."

It was a patent lie but he really didn't want to talk about the friendship he'd once had with Michael or think about the way his life might have gone. He was grateful for the waitress's arrival with their meals. Even more grateful that Brittany didn't insist on picking up the conversation when the waitress left.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. A comfortable silence, Dan realized, a little surprised. He could sit across the table from Brittany and no longer be overwhelmed by a sense of what might have been. At some point they'd managed to make the shift from lovers to friends.

"Are you dating anybody in particular?" Brittany asked, her elaborately casual tone completely failing to mask her curiosity.

He wished he could have told her he was. But he couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a date, the last time he'd even met a woman he wanted to date.

He had a sudden memory of big brown eyes and silky soft skin. The girl from New Year's Eve. Funny how she popped into his thoughts at odd times. But he couldn't even remember her name. And he wouldn't really say they'd had a date. An encounter maybe, an incident, one of the more confusing experiences of his life, but definitely not a date.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," he said at last, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

"I could introduce you to a couple of women I know," Brittany offered casually.

"I don't need a matchmaker," he snapped, stung that Brittany, of all people, should be offering to fix him up with a date.

"Sorry." Her eyes reflected her startlement at this reaction. To his horror, he saw the shimmer of tears.

"No, no. I'm the one who's sorry," he said hastily. "I shouldn't have snapped like that For God's sake, don't cry." He shoved a handful of napkins at her, his expression so panicked that Brittany laughed, a slightly watery sound but reassuring.

"I'm not going to burst into tears." She dabbed at her eyes with the edge of a napkin, "Don't mind me. I'm just a little overemotional these days."

"Is something wrong? You said everything was going all right. There's nothing wrong with Danielle, is there, or Michael? You're not sick."

She laughed again at the rapid-fire questions, shaking her head. "Nothing's wrong. Nobody's sick." She hesitated, her cheeks flushing softly. "I'm just a little pregnant and it's got my emotions all topsy-turvy."

In his concern, Dan had leaned across the table toward her and now he sat back with a thump. He felt her words as if they were a physical blow, knocking the wind from his lungs. Pregnant. He groped for something to say.

"A little pregnant? Isn't that like being a little dead? I mean, there's no halfway with that sort of thing, is there?"

"I guess not" She laughed a little, still flushed. "I'm just not quite used to the idea yet, I guess."

Glowing. He'd heard the term used when people talked about pregnant women but he'd never actually noticed it himself. But Brittany was definitely glowing. When he'd first seen her and thought she was even more beautiful, he'd been seeing the glow pregnancy gave her. Had she looked like this while she was carrying his child?

Looking at him, Brittany must have been able to read something of his thoughts. Her smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. She reached across the table to touch the hand he'd unconsciously clenched.

"Dan..."

"Congratulations, Brittany." He deliberately cut her off, knowing it was rude and not caring. He didn't want to listen to her tell him that he'd find a wonderful woman soon. In fact, if he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to do something he'd regret, like break the table in two with his bare hands.

"Look at the time." He glanced at his watch without seeing it. "I told Lee I wouldn't take too long. Lunch is on me."

He threw a few bills on the table and started to slide out of the booth, pausing when he caught the look of distress in Brittany's eyes. He was behaving like a first-class bastard. His face softened as he reached out to catch one of her hands.

"I'm really happy for you, Brittany. Truly happy. No one deserves this more than you and Michael." He stood, still holding her hand and bent to kiss her on the forehead.

She clung to his hand for a moment, her eyes serious. "Don't be such a stranger. Come and see us."

"Sure," he promised, knowing he had no intention of doing any such thing.

Dan left the diner and started across the street to the garage, changing his mind at the last minute and angling away from it. He wasn't ready to talk to anyone. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the cold as he strode down the sidewalk.

Brittany was pregnant.

The knowledge settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't that he begrudged her and Michael this happiness. It wasn't even the thought that, had things turned out differently, this child might have been his. He'd come to terms with the fact that he couldn't change what had happened.

In his more rational moments, he even faced that maybe what he and Brittany had had wouldn't have survived the stresses of marriage. She'd been so young. And he'd had so much growing up to do. That was one thing you could say in favor of Central American prisons: people tended to mature very quickly in them.

No, he was genuinely glad for her. But seeing her so happy, so settled, made him wonder when he was going to find even a portion of that happiness. Maybe it was being the only one to survive the plane crash that had killed his father and everyone else on board; maybe it was the time in prison that had made him realize how short life could be.

He wanted a home, a family, the things that really counted in life. He wanted something to anchor him, a reason to get up in the morning, something to look forward to as the years went on.

When was he going to find any of those things?