An Independent Wife (20 page)

After a restrained greeting she and Greg rapidly regained their former easy mood. They parted with Greg's grinning comment that having a full-time husband must be good for her, she looked contented.

Like a cow, Sallie thought to herself in amusement as she went up to Rhy's office. She was still smiling when she stepped off the elevator and literally ran into Chris.

"You're back!" he exclaimed in instant delight, holding her at ann's length and looking her over.

"You're blooming, darling!"

Sallie's eyes widened in dismay as she realized that she hadn't let Chris know that she was still in town.

Greg knew, of course, but Greg wasn't exactly talkative about personal details. "I've never been gone,"

she admitted ruefully, smiling up into his dark eyes. "Rhy caught me."

Chris's eyebrows rose. "You don't look as if you're wasting away," he drawled mildly. "Maybe the situation isn't as bad as you thought it'd be?"

"Maybe," she said laughing. "Greg just told me that I look contented! I can't decide if I'm insulted or not. "

"Are you really happy, honey?" he asked in a gentle tone, and all of his joking was gone.

"I'm happy in a realistic way," she replied thoughtfully. "I don't expect heaven anymore, and I won't be destroyed when what I have ends."

"Are you so sure that it will?"

"I don't know. We just take every day as it comes. We manage to get along now, but who can say that it'll always be like that? What about you? Did you and Amy ... ?" She stopped, looking into the level, accepting brown eyes, and she knew that he was alone.

"It didn't work." He shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to the window at the end of the hallway, away from the elevator doors. "She's married to that other guy now, she won't even talk to me on the phone."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "She got married so soon. I thought she wasn't supposed to marry him until later this year?"

"She's pregnant," Chris said rawly, and for a moment his face twisted with his inner pain, then he drew a deep breath and stared at Sallie with wry selfmockery. "I think it's my baby. Well, maybe it's the other guy's, I don't know, but I know that it could be mine, too. I'm not even sure Amy knows. I don't care. I'd marry her in a minute if she'd have me, but she said I'm too 'unstable' to be a good father."

"You'd marry her even knowing that she'd slept with another man while she was going out with you?"

Sallie asked in amazement. That was love, love that accepted anything.

He shrugged. "I don't know what she did, but it wouldn't make any difference to me. I love her and I'd take her any way I could get her. If she called me now I'd go to her, and to hell with her husband." He said it in a calm, flat tone, then he shook his head. "Don't look so worried," he advised, a smile coming to his face. "I'm all right, honey, I'm not falling apart."

"But I care about you," she protested weakly. "And I care about you." He grinned down at her and suddenly lifted her in his arms, swinging her around giddily, laughing as she protested. "I've missed you like mad," he told her, his brown eyes turning impish. "I don't trust anyone else to give me advice on my love life-"

"Take your damned hands off my wife."

The toneless words were dropped like stones and Sallie struggled out of Chris's grip to whirl and find Rhy standing just outside his office door, his eyes narrowed to slits. Automatically she looked at his hands. They weren't curled into fists but were slightly cupped, his long fingers tense through his arms, his stance, relaxed and loose. Those hands could strike without warning, and Rhy looked murderous.

She moved forward, casually putting herself between Rhy and Chris, but Rhy moved to the side and another clear path to Chris. As he moved Amanda came out of the office and stopped in her tracks at the sight of Rhy's bloodless face.

Chris didn't seem disturbed; he remained relaxed, his mouth curling into a wry smile. "Easy there," he drawled in his slow, humorous tone. "I'm not after your woman. I've got enough woman trouble of my own without taking on someone else's."

By then Sallie had reached Rhy, and she put her hand on his arm, feeling the rigid muscles there. "It's true," she told him, smiling like mad in an effort to hide the fear that had her heart thudding. "He's madly in love with a woman who wants him to settle down and stop dashing off to other countries at the drop of a hat, and he likes to tell me all about it. Does the plot sound familiar?"

"All right," Rhy uttered, his lips barely moving. His face was still frozen in white rage, but he growled at Amanda, "Go on to lunch. Everything's okay."

After Amanda and Chris had left she and Rhy stood in the hallway staring silently at each other.

Gradually he relaxed and said tiredly, "Let's get out of this hallway. The office is private."

She nodded and preceded him into his office, and no sooner was the door closed behind them than he caught her in his arms, holding her to him so tightly that her ribs protested in pain.

"I've never been out with him," she managed to reassure him as she gasped for breath.

"I believe you," he whispered raggedly, his lips brushing across her temple, her cheek, the comer of her eye. "I just couldn't bear to see you in his arms. You're mine, and I don't want any other man touching you."

Her heart pounding, Sallie lifted her arms about his neck and clung to him. She was giddy with hope.

The violence of his reaction couldn't be simple possessiveness; his emotions had to be involved to some extent for him to be shaking like this, his hands almost punishing as he touched her. But she couldn't be certain, and she held back the most reassuring phrase of all that trembled on her tongue: I love you. She couldn't say it to him yet, but she had begun to hope.

"Hey, I came to see if you want to have lunch with me," she finally said gaily, lifting her head from its resting place on his shoulder.

"That's not what I want," he growled, his eyes straying suggestively to the sofa, "but I'll settle for lunch."

"I'm afraid we caused a scandal," she teased as she walked beside him to the elevator. "It'll be all over the building before the end of the day."

He shrugged negligently. "I don't care. Let it be a warning to any of your other pals who might want to hug you. I'm a throwback, a territorial animal, and I don't allow any encroachment into that territory."

At once she felt an icy shaft of pain in her heart. Was that all she was to him, a part of his territory?

Thank heavens she'd kept silent a moment ago instead of blurting out her feelings for him! She was a fool to look for any deeper feelings from him; he didn't have any, and she'd always known that. He was a throwback, his instincts swift and primitive. He saw to the satisfaction of his needs and didn't waste time on anything as foolish as love.

The sense of accomplishment she felt as she stared at the last page of the manuscript surpassed anything she'd experienced as a reporter. It was finished! No longer was it a figment of her imagination. It existed; it had an identity. She knew there was still a lot of work to be done on it, rereading, correcting, rewriting, but now it was, for all intents and purposes, complete. Her hand reached for the telephone; she wanted to call Rhy and share this moment with him, but a wave of dizziness made her fall back weakly in the chair.

The dizziness was only momentary, but when it had passed she remained as she was, the impulse to call Rhy having faded. That was the fourth spell this week.... Of course. Why hadn't she realized? But perhaps she'd known all along and hadn't allowed the thought to surface until now. The book had claimed all of her attention, all of her energy, and she had pushed herself to complete it. But as soon as it was finished her subconscious had released the knowledge of her pregnancy.

Glancing at the desk calendar she decided that it had been the first night in Sakarya. "When else would it have been?" she murmured to herself. That was the first time in seven years Rhy had touched her, and she had immediately become pregnant. She gave a smile of self-mockery, then the smile became softer and she drew the calendar to her to count the weeks. Her baby would be due around the beginning of spring, and she thought that was a wonderful sign, a new beginning.

This baby would live, she knew. It was more than a new life, it was a strengthening of the fabric of her marriage, another bond between her and Rhy. He would make a wonderful father now, much better than he would have been years before. He would be delighted with his baby.

Then she frowned slightly. Fih-ning on the documentary was scheduled to begin next month, and Rhy had planned on taking her with him. He might change his mind if he knew she was pregnant. So she wouldn't tell him until after they returned! She wasn't about to let him leave without her; it would be a rerun of their early days, and she wasn't sure enough of either him or herself yet to endure a long separation.

She realized that she had a lot to do before then; first and foremost she needed to see a doctor and make certain everything was normal and that traveling wouldn't hurt the baby, and begin taking the recommended vitamins. She should also buy new clothing, because by the time the filming was done she would probably have outgrown her present wardrobe. She pictured herself round and waddling and grinned. Rhy had missed most of her first pregnancy, but this time she would insist that he help her to do all of the little things she'd had to manage by herself before, like getting out of bed.

Of all the nights for Rhy to be late, she thought, he had to pick this one. He called at five and told her wearily that it would probably be eight or later when he made it home. "Eat without me, baby," he instructed. "But keep something hot for me. I don't think I can face a sandwich."

Swallowing her disappointment, she agreed, then suggested jokingly, "Do you need any help? I'm an old hand at meeting deadlines."

"You don't know how tempting that offer is." He sighed. "But work on the book instead, and I'll be home as soon as I can."

"I finished the book today," she informed him, her fingers tightening around the receiver. "So I'm taking a break." She had wanted to tell him when he first walked in the door, but she couldn't wait that long.

"You did what? Oh, hell," he said in disgust and Sallie's mouth trembled in hurt surprise. Then he continued, and she brightened again. "I should be taking you out to celebrate instead of working late.

But I'll be home as soon as possible, then we'll do some private celebrating, if you understand my meaning."

"I thought you were tired." She laughed and his low chuckle sounded in her ear.

"I am tired, but I'm not dead," he replied huskily. "See you in a few hours."

Smiling, she replaced the receiver. After eating her solitary dinner she took a shower and settled down in the study to begin rereading the book, scribbling changes and corrections in the margins as she went.

The work was absorbing, so much so that when she heard Rhy's key she was surprised at how swiftly the time had passed. She shoved the manuscript aside and jumped to her feet, then had to cling to the back of a chair for a moment when dizziness assailed her. Slowly. She must remember to move slowly.

Rhy entered the study, his tired face breaking into a grin as he surveyed her attire, a transparent dark blue nightgown and matching wrap. He tossed his jacket aside and tugged his loosened tie completely off, throwing it on top of his jacket. He began unbuttoning his shirt as he came to her. "Now I understand the charm of coming home to a negligee-clad wife," he commented as he slid his arms around her and pulled her up on tiptoe for his kiss. "It's like a shot of adrenalin."

"Don't become too fond of the practice," she warned. "I just took my bath early because I had nothing else to do. Are you very hungry?"

"Yes," he growled. "Are you going to make me wait?"

"You know I meant for food!" Laughing at him, she crossed to the door. "Wash up while I set the table. I've kept things warm."

"Don't bother with the dining room," he called. "The kitchen is fine with me, and a lot handier." She did as he instructed and set his plate in the kitchen. He joined her there and while he ate they discussed the book. Rhy had already talked to an agent that he knew, and he wanted to hand the book over before they left for Europe.

"But it isn't ready," Sallie protested. "I've already begun making corrections for retyping."

"I want her to read it now," Rhy insisted. "It's a rough draft. She won't expect it to be word perfect right now."

"She?" Sallie asked, her ears pricking up.

"Yes, she," he mocked, his gray eyes glinting. "She's a bone-thin bulldozer by the name of Barbara Hopewell, and she's twenty years older than I am, so you can draw in your claws."

Sallie glared at him. She had the feeling that he'd purposely tricked her into revealing her jealousy and she didn't want him to gain too much of an advantage on her.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" she demanded. "I don't want you worrying about the book while we're in Europe. Hire a typist, do whatever you have to, but I want the book out of the way before we leave."

Because she was feeling resentful over his gibe about jealousy she propped her elbows on the table and gibed back at him. "Has the thought occurred to you that now that the book's finished I'll be bored sitting around here all day? I need to be looking for a job, not jaunting around Europe."

If she'd wanted to rile him she succeeded beyond her wildest expectations. He turned pale; then two hectic spots of temper appeared on his high cheekbones. Slamming his fork down on the table he reached across and grasped her wrist, hauling her to her feet as he stood up himself. "You never miss a chance to twist the knife, do you?" he muttered hoarsely. "Sometimes I want to break your neck!"

Then he jerked her against him and brutally took her lips, not allowing her a chance to speak even if she could have thought of anything to say, and with their mouths still fused he slipped one an-n behind her knees and lifted her easily, her slight weight nothing to his powerful arms.