It's News to Her (17 page)

“It's possible. I don't know how probable. But you didn't use a condom, and I'm not on birth control. Think
it's a good thing we have directors and producers to get the news on the air in a timely fashion?”

As she reached for the fork again, Cord stilled her hand. He didn't want to make fun of this subject. “Would that be all right with you?”

He watched as Hunter's expression softened. “You said you wanted a family.”

“I do. Don't you?”

“Yes, but I didn't know if it would ever happen. I'm not one of those women who would have wanted to raise a child on my own—or be a one-child parent. And I know how difficult one unwed-mother pregnancy would be on my grandmother. Multiples could have dire consequences.”

“Stop.” Cord cupped Hunter's cheek with his good hand. “You don't have to worry about any of that. Marry me.”

Smiling, her eyes overly bright, Hunter planted a kiss in his palm. “You don't have to rush things. We can—”

“No, we can't,” Cord said, getting off the bed and heading for the bathroom where he'd put his clothes. When he returned, he held a small, black velvet box.

Watching Hunter's lovely eyes grow wide, he came to her side of the bed and sat beside her. “This was my grandmother's. I spoke with Lenore before coming here this evening and told her my intentions. I didn't want her feelings hurt.” Gingerly lifting the lid as he balanced the box with his bandaged fingers, he exposed a three-carat, canary-yellow diamond circled by three more carats of
white diamonds. “Be mine,” he said, lifting it out of the satin-lined slot. “My first, last and only.”

“You really did come here intending…”

“I love you. It was time. Marry me, Hunter Harding?”

“Yes,” she whispered, giving him her left hand. When he slipped the ring on her finger, Hunter breathed shakily. “Oh, Cord…do you think your grandfather would have added his blessing?”

“He already did.” Quietly, but proudly, he told her about one of their last, prolonged conversations. “It was the day after we returned from New Jersey. The day I headed out to California with my next stop being Chicago. I told him that I thought we'd made progress in clearing the air. I told him a great deal about my feelings for you. He must have seen something in me this time because that's when he told me that if I had the good luck to convince you, he wanted you to wear his Annie's ring.”

Hunter wrapped her arms around his neck, overcome with emotion. “That makes missing him all the more painful. It would have been the thrill of my life if he could have agreed to give me away and walk me down the aisle.”

Wanting only to ease her grief, Cord said, “Well, sweetheart, first of all, he would probably have needed a wheelchair to carry you down on his lap. And second, when it came time to ask if anyone objected, he would have made sure the minister allowed a painfully long silence before proceeding.”

Bursting into laughter, Hunter agreed. “He would, wouldn't he?”

He kissed her then, with all of his heart. If he thought she'd shown him her passion before he learned that he still had much to grasp about his dark-eyed beauty. Before the end of their second kiss as an official couple, the future Mrs. Cord Yarrow Rivers had him lifting her onto his lap.

“I have to get back to the estate soon,” he groaned. “There's an early board meeting to make everything official, and then I have to meet with grandfather's attorney, along with Lenore and my parents. More incessant, preliminary paperwork.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to spend this night above all nights with you.”

“Better yet, make sure you clear your calendar for our wedding night,” Hunter warned with mock sternness. Then she grew sympathetic. “All responsibility is on you now.”

“But I'll be back tomorrow night. We can discuss dates.”

“I'm a fig girl myself.”

“Minx.'

Stroking his hair, Hunter said, “Before you leave, remind me to give you a key.”

He held still, savoring that moment. “Just like that?”

Gently biting his earlobe, she chided, “First you complain about my caution, now you're questioning my conviction?”

When she sat up smiling, their gazes locked, and the first flame of passion reignited. Slowly, slowly, as though reveling in the wait as much as the impending connection, they inched closer, focused on each other's lips. Then their warm breaths merged as one. Finally their lips brushed together.

As sparks of desire shot through Cord's body, he slanted his mouth over Hunter's, initiating a different kind of dialogue as mysterious and ageless as the universe. Deep, stroking kisses soon had him gliding his right hand to her breast where he relished the feel of that bud, already taut and ready for his mouth.

“Just once more,” he breathed. “Then I have to go.”

“Yes.”

Their attempts at restraint had already loosened his towel. Hunter swept her sleep shirt over her head so fast he would have chuckled if he wasn't so grateful they were on the same sexual wavelength.

“Straddle me,” he coaxed.

She did but stayed on her knees, enticing him with herself. Framing her breasts with his hands, he stroked her nipples as he brushed kiss after kiss over each mound. “I promise you,” he said, “when I have two good hands again, I'll do this justice.”

With her forehead touching his, she had them cocooned in a world all their own. “Well, there's plenty more of you that's working just fine,” she told him.

He was glad she thought so, but he wasn't going to last long if she kept on with the sexual innuendos. “Take it, take me,” he told her.

She did, just as slowly as they'd kissed, wanting every ounce of what they could bring to the moment. When he was sheathed by her, he felt her tighten inside and milk him.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, feeling moisture on his forehead.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“You keep that up, you may get that early baby you're worrying about.”

“Not the best position for fertilization.”

“You're about two seconds away from being flipped over and rocked to sleep,” he said between nips of her lower lip. “Then we'll talk about fertilization.”

“Cord Yarrow Rivers, don't you dare get ravioli and Alfredo sauce all over your grandmother's beautiful ring.”

“Your ring now, my love.”

“Cord—Cord!”

Fourteen Months Later

“…A
nd so the cat is out of the hat—and hat box. With the mystery of the lost family feline resolved, the Johnsons continue with their unpacking at their new home on Long Island while Mommy cat, Misty, spends her days nursing her two kittens—when they're not busy shredding packing paper and batting foam worms.

“That is Monday, October twenty-fourth. We wish you a night with equally blissful endings.”

“And that's a wrap. Thanks, Hunter. Textbook warm-and-fuzzy story,” director, Stan Pfeiffer, said. “Now when I get home tonight, my five-year-old is going to
meet me at the door and wrap her arms around my leg crying, ‘Daddy, can we adopt one of Misty's babies?'”

“From what I gathered, checking back with the Johnsons, it sounds like they're keeping those kittens,” Hunter said, removing her earpiece. “There's your out…unless you want to head down to the local animal shelter. There are always plenty of homeless cats and dogs there.”

The native New Yorker, who more resembled a longshoreman, wagged a sausage-size finger at her. “The closest my kid is getting to a pet is if I point to a rat in the alley between our apartment buildings and tell her that she can name it.”

Hunter shook her head as she awaited help to take off the rest of her gadgetry. For all of his gruffness and toughness, Stan was something of a pussycat himself. It had just taken Hunter longer than usual to figure that out, and for the two of them to settle in to a comfortable work mode. But then there had been a great number of things to adapt to in the last fourteen months.

She also had her mike unclipped from her royal purple, soft-knit dress as the assistant came to help her, but she had temporarily lost the ability to get the wires and uncomfortable battery pack out from under her clothing. “Thanks Roger, thanks everyone,” she called to the rest of the crew that continued to whistle and applaud their own smooth work as much as hers

“There you go, Mrs. Rivers,” the assistant said, achieving what Hunter did not. “Are you okay?” she asked, giving her a closer inspection than usual. “You
looked a little uncomfortable at the end. Did the earpiece poke you, or the mike battery cut into your back?”

“Not too much more than usual, Rachel, thanks.” Pushing back her chair, Hunter stroked her belly. There was no more hiding that she was big with child: any-day-now size. “There's no comfortable position to sit or lie in these days,” she drawled. “Do you think that the viewers picked up on as much as you did?”

“Oh, no, ma'am. It's just that everyone says you're the consummate professional and to take notes. They're right. I've enjoyed getting to know you, and I'm thrilled to think I'm beginning to read you a little better. Just let me know if there's something I can do to make this stuff easier.”

Touched by the sweet girl's initiative, Hunter reached out to squeeze her arm. “Rachel, I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that you're catching on fast and couldn't do your job any better. I hope you get that promotion to the next step in production. I'll put in my good word.”

As the young woman grinned and scampered away, Hunter saw Cord emerge from the production room and stride purposely toward her, although he did take the time to exchange greetings with several of the staff. He looked as handsome and distinguished as ever in his navy blue, pinstripe suit and red tie. It took no time at all for the butterflies to start fluttering in her tummy, just watching him. And to think they had already celebrated their first anniversary a month ago. Hardly newlyweds anymore, she thought with a wicked smile, knowing exactly what he would say about that.

Before she could reach for her shoes—the lowest heels she'd worn since she wore ankle socks—Cord was at her side, crouching to help her slide them on. She almost blushed because his movements were more intimate and caressing than practical.

“What's the grin about?” he asked, looking like he knew full well.

“I'm merely enjoying watching you, but the guys in the control room may be groaning in disgust.”

“Every damned one of them is green with envy.”

“Uh-huh. How did the program that you caught look to you?”

“You've hit your stride again—and you look radiant and luscious.”

“That's a polite word for fat.” She sighed, thinking if she ever fit into a pair of her high heels again, she would never complain about discomfort again. But then she'd also worried that she would never be embraced by this city, too. At first, some of the critics had tried to resist embracing her.

“You're pregnant and oversensitive, my love. Everyone in the control room may remember that I'm the paycheck, but they still want their product to look it's best, and a chief part of that product is you. Clever Cat-and-the-Hat bit,” he added.

“Too cutesy for cosmopolitan New York City?”

“Give yourself a break, sweetheart,” Cord said, stroking her calf. “You're not exactly from a two-chicken TV station. Everybody loves a positive story, especially in difficult international times.”

She knew that, but her hormones were trying to undermine her at every turn. It was her fifth month as the evening anchor at YCI's New York cable TV channel and she'd begun staying consistently in the number two position in her time slot even against the network stations. Along with their recent anniversary, she and Cord were expecting their first child—a son—any day now. Life was definitely in transition.

“When did you get in?” she asked, forcing herself to relax and count her blessings. He was having to commute to headquarters—as well as travel—more, and while she couldn't help but worry when he was flying, she knew there was no one more cautious and invested in safety than Cord and his aircraft crew.

Before answering, Cord rose and kissed her soundly. Still, it was a chaste kiss compared to what she knew he would bestow on her when they reached the limo where Phil and Lane were sure to be waiting.

“About twenty minutes before you probably sat nervously in your office and tracked our flight on the internet, and I made it into the control room about ninety seconds before you went live, so I did see every piece.” He chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Still, it's nice to be missed.”

“Why not just accept that I miss you every second, even when you're at the loft and I'm here?”

“I do, beloved,” he said, suddenly all seriousness. “I still can't believe my good fortune and universal blessings.” Slipping his arm around her, he helped her to her
feet. “How's that for discreet? I even resisted sneaking a fanny rub.”

Thank heaven for small favors, she thought with an inward groan, because she knew full well that he believed in showing his true feelings for her and didn't care what anyone thought. “I love you,” she purred. “And I'm sorry for sounding like a rat terrier with a bad haircut.”

Shaking with laughter, Cord led her off the stage and toward the nearest exit. “How about we head home for a bubble bath and foot-and-back massage?”

“Cord Rivers, if you do that for me, I will give birth to a baby hippo for you.”

He held her close all the way to the elevators during and the ride down. “Did you talk to your mother? Is she going to let me send up a car for her and your grandmother, so they don't miss the baby's arrival?”

Hunter bit her lip. She knew he and her mother and grandmother got along just fine, but she didn't want to inundate him with company. Particularly female company. She was more than enough for him.

“I heard that,” he said. “Just as loudly as if you were beating a bongo drum in my ear. How many times do I have to tell you, the more the merrier?”

Easy for him to say. Their loft had a state-of-the-art kitchen now, and her grandmother might like it so much, she'd never leave. “I still think it would be smarter to put them up in the hotel across the street.”

“We have plenty of room,” Cord assured her.

“What's the news from Lenore? Will she come up?”

“She let me make the reservations while I was down there. She arrives the day after tomorrow, and she sends her love. She's missed you more than she'll say.”

“Oh, I can feel it. It's been hard for her, even though Henry has been gone fifteen months now.” Hunter stroked his chest. “Sounds like you're going to have a full waiting room to help you pace.”

He slid her a speaking glance, and she knew why. While they had taken natural childbirth lessons together, he was the worrywart where the delivery was concerned. She thought the easiest thing would be for him not to go through it. He was having none of that.

“I can sweat blood for you
and
coach, thank you very much,” he'd said.

As they exited the building, the autumn-night air whirled around them, tugging at their clothes and hair and peppering them with leaves off the trees that lined the street. Hunter felt the excitement of the city and took a deep breath, finding this time of year energizing. Spotting Lane and Phil waiting for them, she began a penguin pantomime. Both men struggled to keep a straight face.

“Evening, ma'am,” Phil drawled.

“Good to see you in fine spirits, Mrs. Rivers,” Lane said, one eye on her and one eye on passersby.

And then they were on their way. This was a new limousine, the latest in construction, gimmicks and security. Hunter didn't want to know what it cost. What she did know was that Cord had ordered it because she would be riding in it with him. The best part was
that once the door was shut, he put up the window and curtain between them and the front seat and reached for her.

His first kiss after they'd been apart for more than a day almost always brought tears to her eyes. She knew those periods were as tough on him as they were on her. She did a whole visual inventory to make sure he wasn't hiding any shaving or paper cuts and that his eyes weren't beyond bloodshot from sleepless nights.

“Did all of your meetings go well?” she asked.

Cord slid his hand inside her light coat and caressed her belly. “I can't remember. I ditched them from my mind the minute we headed for the airport.” Then he leaned over to croon at her tummy. “Hey, Little You. Are you giving your mommy too much of a hard time?”

“He's already a gifted handler, like his daddy,” Hunter said. “I'm probably ruining his DNA. He sleeps when I'm in meetings and on the air. If I'm on the phone with a politician who's trying to blow me off with bureaucratic doublespeak, he rubs his foot against the inside of my belly as though saying, ‘Chill, Mommy. He only won his election by 400 votes.'”

Watching her, his smile beatific, Cord slid his hand upward to cover her breast. “You can't blame him for loving the sound of your voice. So do I.”

Hunter heard, but then didn't hear because his caresses were doing what they always did to her. She leaned her forehead against his and sighed in pleasure.
“I miss you that way, too. Maybe we can share that bubble bath?” she entreated.

Cord groaned and locked his mouth to hers to let her know how much he appreciated that thought. “You remember what the doctor said. That part of things is on hold until your sixth week check-up after delivery.” But that didn't keep him from lowering his mouth to her breast. Then he slid his hand under her skirt and between her thighs. “We've done all right improvising, haven't we?” he rasped. “It's all good.”

It was and the best part was that every day their love deepened. “It's all good,” she began to reassure him, then her breath caught. “Or—oh! Not?”

Cord was immediately alert. “What is it? Hunter?”

When the cramp finally eased, Hunter started to laugh breathlessly. “I guess no bubble bath for me tonight.”

He froze, looked down to her belly and back up at her bemused face. “It's begun?”

“I've been having subtle contractions for a while. They're not bad yet, but the one I just had tells me that's about to change.”

“Darling.” He framed her face with his and kissed her soundly. Then he leaned forward to rip open the curtains and lower the window. “Gentlemen, there needs to be a slight adjustment to our destination.

“Hospital?” Lane asked, glancing back at Hunter.

Phil was already observing her in the rearview mirror. “Hospital.”

 

Two hours and fifty minutes later, Brendan Harding Rivers joined their happiness. Cord noted that he had both of his parents' lush, dark hair, his mother's warm, brown eyes and his daddy's nose and mouth. Cord couldn't stop looking at him—or exhausted but radiant Hunter.

“I can't believe you did this,” he said, not willing to let go of her hand or to stop staring at Brendan in Hunter's arms. He'd even made it through delivery without passing out cold and embarrassing Hunter.

“I detest the overuse of
amazing,
but isn't he just?” Hunter whispered.

“The beginning of a new dynasty.”

“Dynasty! That's news to me,” Hunter said with some worry. “He might not want to be in our business. He might want to invent things or heal people.”

“Look at that mouth—he's already trying to talk.” But Cord wasn't about to upset Hunter. Next to her heart, she'd just given him the greatest gift of all. “Thank you, my love.”

“Thank you,” Hunter replied, stroking his cheek. “I so hate that you'll have to go home to an empty loft tonight.”

“Are you kidding?” he scoffed. “I'm not letting either of you out of my sight. I'm going to stay right in that chair over there…when I'm not walking down to the nursery to check on this little guy.”

After a soft laugh, she asked, “Will you think to re
member to make a few important phone calls to waiting family, too?”

Kissing her softly, he murmured, “That I can do.”