A Stormy Spring (12 page)

So she lied straight to his face. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t. I went to the pharmacy and bought it and even sat down to swallow it. But I couldn’t do it.’

And he wasn’t buying that she realised as those dark eyes bored into her soul.

‘I asked you a question,
querida
.’

She plucked at the sheet with nerveless fingers.

‘There was a good chance that I wasn’t pregnant. My periods are erratic at the best of times. I’ve been busy with work and well ...’ her voice caught in her throat as she swallowed.

‘Well, what?’

The rumour mill in theatre land was full of how disconsolate a certain theatre star was at the moment and nursing a broken heart. ‘There’s been all that stuff about Willow Bailey in the press and I didn’t want to add to your burden. So I ...’

He appeared to take what she said at face value, thank God.

‘I have never had relationship with her, I told you that. I have no reason to lie,
querida
. It was strictly business.’

‘But ...’

He pulled up a chair and sat astride it, resting his arms on the back.

‘She is... was a client.’ By the look on his face, Becca realised there was probably a lot more to it, but what business was it of hers?

‘Is that why you did not want to contact me?’ he asked.

There was no point in denying it. ‘It was part of the reason.’

He nodded. ‘And the other part?’

Her mother always said that honesty was the best policy.

Steadily, Becca met his eyes. ‘You scare me, Lucas. And I don’t want to be part of the circus that’s your life.’

He shook his head, those cold dark eyes narrowed now as they studied her features.

‘Are you sure there is not something or some
one
else?’

Confused by what sounded like hurt in his harsh tone, she simply stared.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You appear to be intimate with the man you were dancing with this evening – if I could call what you were doing with him dancing. Are you sure he is not the father?’

The dance and Justin’s kiss brought heat to her cheeks.

‘You saw that?’

The arctic look in his eye made ice ball in her gut.

‘You put on quite an exhibition,
querida.
And here I was thinking you were shy.’ His voice dripped with disdain. ‘You are an excellent actress, I will give you that.’

The tone put her back up. Why, the supercilious, son-of-a ...

She jutted out her chin. ‘You know nothing about me.’ And decided the look in his eye was just plain nasty.

Heat flashed in her face then drained away leaving it too pale.

The rapid pulse in her neck alerted Lucas to the fact he’d upset her.

His doctor had told him Becca shouldn’t become stressed and he cursed himself for his stupidity.

She took a couple of shallow breaths, her flashing eyes never left his for a moment.

‘Justin is my partner, business partner. I’m a choreographer not an exhibitionist. We were simply letting off steam.’

He almost winced as her voice, blade sharp, sliced into him.

Heady relief surged through his system even as his encyclopaedic memory for all things showbiz dinged. Wait a minute. It clicked. Justin Cope and Rebecca Wainwright, of course.

‘You are working on Burt Lindstrom’s new movie?’

Her wide-eyed surprise almost made him smile.

Burt was a close friend as well as a client.

God, she looked fabulous, all angry and irritated with him.

‘Yes,’ her eyes narrowed now. ‘What type of dancing do you think I did, lap-dancing?’

Even as her voice dripped with contempt, Lucas thrust the picture of what she could do on his lap out of his mind.

He couldn’t help it, he grinned. ‘Justin is gay, right?’

Her little mewl of annoyance stirred his blood.

‘That’s none of your business.’

Oh yes it is, baby. Delighted with her, he smiled. ‘You are a very talented lady.’

Unimpressed cold blue eyes stayed on his. ‘We’ve earned it.’

‘Why did you not tell me?’ He watched heat burn her cheeks as white teeth tugged on her bottom lip. A habit he’d come to recognise meant she was evading.

She sighed. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

Actually it was a very big deal but he wasn’t about to start an argument with her over it. He’d find out why she’d kept it from him, eventually.
Cristo
, she was one of the top in her field. It explained a lot about how she ticked. In fact Burt had told him that the Cope and Wainwright team were creative workaholics. She wasn’t a party animal, shunned the limelight and he wondered who represented them. And he realised now that after the death of her husband Becca had most likely thrown herself into work.

He creased his brow as he tried to read and understand the myriad of expressions crossing that beautiful face.

‘You are shortlisted for a Tony?’

She took a deep breath as those brilliant eyes studied him.

‘Yes, but I doubt we’ll win.’

‘Who represents you?’

‘No one. Justin deals with contracts and negotiations. For obvious reasons I’ve kept to the background. I need to go home, Lucas.’

No way. He had too much to think about. He’d been about to discuss the facts of business life with her but the look in her eye made him ease back. She was pregnant with his child. The doctor had ordered bed-rest and he would use the advantage he’d been handed to keep her with him until he could work out his too intense and complex feelings for this woman. And more importantly hers for him.

He shook his head. ‘You are carrying my child. I have a vested interest in your physical and emotional health. I am coming with you to the doctor tomorrow.’

He watched a variety of emotions run across her expressive face. He recognised fear, despair and something else, something dark haunting her beautiful eyes.

Those eyes became huge as she clutched the sheet to her breast.

‘But I can’t stay here. I need clothes and... stuff.’

Okay, she needed personal possessions, no problem. ‘I will drive us over to your place and we will collect everything you need.’

Becca groaned and dropped her head to her knees.

Lucas couldn’t help it, he sat on the bed lifted her hair and rubbed her neck. The muscles under his fingers were rock hard with tension.

‘Think of it as a break. Once you have had the results we will review the situation.’

Her head whipped up. The full mouth trembled.

‘I don’t want a break. I need to work. We’re on tight deadlines.’

The pulse jack-hammering under his thumb told him she was determined.

‘Very well. I am coming to your apartment and will stay with you.’

‘What?’ She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. ‘I have a one bed roomed apartment. Where are you going to sleep?’

Lucas knew it was a gamble. He didn’t fancy sleeping on a floor, but needs must. ‘The sofa?’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘How tall are you? Six three, four?’

He shrugged, battling to resist kissing that fabulous mouth.

‘Something like that.’

‘Uh huh, so how does the idea of sleeping with your feet hanging over the edge of a two-seater sofa grab you?’

It didn’t. But he’d rather have his tongue ripped out of his head before he admitted it.

Before he could reply, she lifted her purse from the bedside table and pulled out her ancient cell phone and he wondered what she’d done with the Blackberry.

She closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath and hit speed dial.

Vivid blue eyes held his. ‘Okay, I’ll stay here tonight. Can I have privacy?’

Lucas leaned his forehead against the wall outside her bedroom.

The low murmur of her voice hummed through his system. She left a voice message for Justin telling him she would be late tomorrow, that she’d see him around lunchtime.

Dios,
what a mess. She appeared too highly strung this evening. His doctor said she was incredibly fit and well apart for her blood pressure.

He shook his head in dismay.

The girl tonight was a bag of nerves.

What had happened to the woman who’d danced with him and made love with him as if he was the only man in the world for her?

By the nightmare she’d had, he realised she was emotionally fragile too.

He’d never forget those heartbroken sobs.

He pressed his fist to the ache between his ribs.

Justin was naturally very close to her. They’d danced with an intimacy it was impossible to ignore. Thank God he was gay. It had angered him; he admitted it, to see him touch her like that. Jealousy was a new and unwelcome experience for Lucas and he was finding it very hard to deal with. When it came to Becca he appeared to morph into a caveman and how pathetic was that?

He could run three miles without losing his breath. But one look at Becca this evening and he’d been gasping for air.

After the last time they’d been together, when she’d made it crystal clear she didn’t want a baby the abortion question had been a test. He’d recognised her horror and determination to keep the child.

But what had happened in the meantime to make her change her mind?

Becca Wainwright was a beautiful woman full of mixed messages and contradictions. And she was driving him fucking crazy.

Lucas frowned now as another issue raised its head. His father. The old man would be over the moon with a grandchild. Don Norberto Juan Ortiz Conde Del Garda would insist on the child being legitimate.

However, by her behaviour towards him Lucas was more than aware that there was no way Becca would agree to marry him for the sake of a baby. Therefore it was important to keep the news quiet.

Her aversion to publicity was fair enough. He knew plenty of highly creative personalities, particularly actors and musicians, who lived solely to create and loathed the media circus surrounding their profession. So he
got
her, he did.

The beautiful haunted woman that was Rebecca Wainwright had captured his heart at first sight. He adored her and he wanted her in his life as his wife. However, Lucas was under no illusions. Life with Becca was not going to be an easy ride, especially in the beginning. He’d need to find the patience of a saint. She was still grieving and her heart had been broken. Whether or not he could help her mend it was something he didn’t want to consider. There were no guarantees. But they were connected for the rest of their lives by the child sleeping inside her.

He needed to keep the mother of his child close.

The next morning found Becca in the back of the Bentley with Lucas.

Lucas’s white T-shirt had drowned her last night but after running her a bath he’d left her to it and she’d slept alone.

Now they were on their way to her apartment.

Lucas re-arranged his diary with Margo and was speaking now in lyrical Spanish on his cell phone.

Dressed in a dark bespoke suit, a white shirt in pristine cotton and hand-made shoes, the man looked like a walking advertisement for Dior. The single concession to his creativity was a silk tie in jazzy shades of red and hot orange.

Sitting next to him wearing a dress that revealed too much in such a confined space, she was too aware of him.

His dark gaze lingered on her from time to time when he’d reach out to squeeze her hand or stroke her arm as if he couldn’t help but have a physical contact with her. After a while she wondered if he was soothing himself as well as soothing her. A part of her recognised that he was physically indicating he was there as a support for her during a time of deep emotional turmoil for them both.

Staring out the tinted window, she couldn’t help but feel that same strange disconnect with the outside world. A disconnect she knew wasn’t healthy and a disconnect she’d lived with for far too long.

They were taking her to her apartment to pack for an agreed short stay at Lucas’s town house.

In the end she’d managed a good night’s sleep, probably because she’d made a decision for herself and her baby that had put her mind at rest.

Worrying or thinking of the future, she’d learned the hard way, was a lesson in futility. The best way was to simply get through each day, minute by minute, one step at a time.

Lucas was a man who got things done. He’d conveyed the confirmation of her appointment with a gynaecologist later this morning over breakfast.

The car slid into a smart road. Her apartment was on the top floor of a Victorian conversion.

Lucas opened the car door for her, taking her arm to help her out.

He didn’t let her go as she keyed in her code at the main entrance.

In silence she led him up three flights of stairs.

Inserting the key in the lock, she turned to him.

‘I moved here as a temporary measure after I sold the house,’ she offered by way of an explanation of how she lived. Or perhaps how she existed might be a better description.

Opening the door, she saw the space through his eyes and embarrassed heat flared into her cheeks. She’d never had anyone back here except Justin who kept threatening to organise a dumpster.

Lucas’s gasp of shock didn’t surprise her in the least.

‘How long have you been living like this?’

Cardboard boxes and packing cases piled to the ceiling made the long narrow hall tricky to navigate.

At least her kitchen/living room was clear of clutter.

‘Almost two years.’

He followed her through to an airy room with a pitched roof. The walls were painted matt white. One huge window, naked of curtains, fitted into the gable end permitting a skinny winter sun to pool on the tired oak floor. Four skylight windows sucked light into the rest of the apartment. For the first time she saw it for it was - a place to lock and leave. She had no mirrors, knick knacks, photos or even a print on the walls.

A couple of new couches in blue velvet, still with their labels attached, were placed either side of a hole in the wall gas fire. A fragile looking glass coffee table sat forlornly between them. Tucked away in a corner were a round glass dining table and four modern chairs in clear plastic. The tables, she noticed for the first time, were growing a beard of dust which would have horrified her mother who was fastidious about such things.