Magic Moment (15 page)

She glanced at the clock on the night table; eleven
P.M.
Muffled voices from the kitchen drifted up the stairs. How long did he intend to stay in the kitchen? Was he avoiding sharing a bed with her? Since she was pregnant, perhaps he no longer saw a reason for being intimate with her. This was the larger of the guest bedrooms, but there were two smaller ones. Perhaps he was explaining to Aunt Lonnie why he needed to sleep in another bedroom. Yes, they had enjoyed each other, but their intimacy had a purpose. Making a baby.

She glanced at the small, round clock on the nightstand; eleven twenty-five
P.M.
Laura tried to keep her eyes open, but she was dozing …

Everything was dark. Rising through a fog, a haze surrounding her. Laura’s senses were dull. Groggy, tired, she drifted into the shadows, the salty sea air tickling her nose. The gentle dipping —
Madre
swaying? — lulled her. The bed’s weight shifted, and a hard form nestled against her back. An arm hooked around her waist and a protective hand rested on her belly. The body, snuggling beneath the bedcovers, was pleasantly familiar. Warm lips brushed her cheek. Even if only in Laura’s dream, her husband slept with her tonight.

• • •

Chase was leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow. She wished he wouldn’t leave Sea Tower, wished everything that had happened since the diner and the FBI were all forgotten. Except, of course, for Chase making love to her, her pregnancy, and their marriage. She wanted him with her, but Chase had convinced himself that the puzzle’s answer remained locked in the warehouse files. He had also convinced himself that his job was to solve the mystery. He planned to gather whatever information he could, confront his father, then head back to Sea Tower and sort out the mess. Earlier, Dr. Silver had confirmed what the couple already ecstatically knew. Laura was pregnant.

Tonight Lonnie attended her book club meeting. The couple sat on the sofa watching a DVD, something featuring Kevin Costner and baseball. Their feet shared the ottoman, Laura sitting close enough so that Chase could wrap an arm around her shoulder. She enjoyed any excuse to snuggle against him.

He concentrated on the movie while she fought sleep. This baby really snapped her strength. Convinced she carried a boy, if the child made her this tired barely weeks into the womb, imagine how exhausted she would be mothering an energetic toddler. A DVD slow motion image of Laura, chasing a curly-haired little replica of Chase in fast-forward mode, gave her the giggles.

“I’ve been quiet for almost two hours. You can’t be laughing at something I said,” Chase chuckled.

“I’m tired. That’s all.” She noticed the closing credits rolling.

Pressing the remote, he turned off the television. “Ready for bed? Yes or no?”

She couldn’t hold back her yawn. “I guess.”

Chase stood, and the warm snugness she took pleasure in left her. He held out his hand, tugging her to her feet. Laura’s legs, stretched in one position for too long, gave way, as if they no longer had the strength to support her, and Chase’s hands were immediately on her waist.

“You need some help?” He didn’t wait for her response. Sliding an arm around her waist and the other beneath her knees, he lifted her. “How ’bout a ride?”

“Sure.”

With long, powerful strides, he carried her up the stairs. Laura closed her eyes, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. Inside the bedroom, he sat her on the bed.

“I need some help getting undressed.” A smile curled her lips. “You’re the only one around to assist.”

He grinned wickedly, his blue eyes blazing. Laura delighted at that look. Only when directed at her, of course.

“I thought you were tired,” he said.

“You carried me up the stairs. I’m wide awake.” She raised her arms. “Help me undress? You won’t be sorry.”

There was a long silent pause. Passion left his eyes, and his features took on a serious expression. “Laura, you’re pregnant,” he said, his tone flat.

Those words, with their deadpan tone, hurt more than any slap delivered. She was pregnant, no need to make love, no need to be close, no need to hold her.

Quickly, her arms came down. She need not embarrass herself any further. If that was desire she saw in his eyes, it was only there because she had wanted it to be.

“I’m sleeping in my clothes.” She stretched out on the bed, turning her back to him. “Goodnight.”

“Laura.” He lowered his head, eyeing the hardwood floor. “I — I — you — listen — ” Pausing, he inhaled, then exhaled loudly.

Tears stung her eyes. He didn’t need to explain and cause her further humiliation. They had reached their goal. “I’m pregnant.” She spoke to the wall. “I need to go to sleep.”

She held her tears until she heard the door close.

When Lonnie woke Laura the next morning, Chase was gone.

The small commuter plane left on time. Before boarding, Chase had called a casino bartender he always tipped generously. The man agreed to meet Chase at the Atlantic City airport and drive him to Magic Lake Island. Chase’s next call was to Mac. The security guard, who had been looking after the BMW, promised to be waiting when Chase arrived. Adrenaline pumped through him at full speed. His objective: get to Philly and get back to Sea Tower as fast as he could.

By mid-afternoon, Chase in his BMW exited the bridge connecting New Jersey and Pennsylvania. He drove along the expressway toward his father’s warehouse. An acidic feeling wrangled in his stomach. Now that he was here, he hated being back in Philadelphia. He dreaded a confrontation with his father, who was bound to be a nasty son-of-a-bitch, berate Chase for getting involved, tell him shit about what was going on, and have a fit for Chase’s marrying Laura.

Chase sighed. Maybe Laura was right. They should just let the FBI deal with this crap.

But his father was his father. Chase’s conscience wouldn’t just let him hand his father over to the law without knowing exactly what the old coot was involved in.

On the other hand, Chase’s concern was protecting his wife and unborn child.

He missed his wife.

Laura
. He recalled her peaceful expression that morning, her delicate form curved around him. The woman slept like the dead. Both nights, she hadn’t even stirred when he had gotten into bed. Perhaps the heavy sleeping was from her pregnancy. He had chosen not to wake her this morning, and after a light kiss, he was off.

The grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, recalling the wantonness covering her dainty features last night. Even now, his lust stirred in all the right parts. They had made their baby, their mission accomplished. Chase had assumed their lovemaking days were over. Hadn’t the first time been just a fluke?

Maybe it wasn’t?

Could pregnant women have sex? Chase wished he had paid more attention to his high school biology. He considered the lunging, pushing, and thrusting could hurt the baby, and Laura’s tender insides.

Maybe not?

Damn, when he returned to Sea Tower, they were having a serious conversation. He loved his wife, plain and simple. They had grown so close, were married, and were having a baby. She had said when the bad guys were in jail, when she was safe, she would give him a divorce. Those feelings, he knew, were because she felt he had forced himself to marry her.

Chase had
wanted
to marry Laura. He enjoyed being with her. Seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, holding her in his arms while they slept. He saw no reason why they couldn’t have a real marriage, the life together, forever after, the whole shebang. Hell, the two aspects that his buddies whined they battled with their wives over, money and sex, Chase and Laura had covered. He had plenty of money, and they had great sex.

As the BMW cruised, Chase practiced the words “Laura, I love you,” the manner, voice pitch, the perfect touch of emotion. Laura had to love him, he decided. He refused to believe her feelings for him were nothing more than gratitude.

He passed through the chain link gates and pulled his car into the cement lot adjacent to the Donovan warehouse. The lot was used for loading merchandise onto customer trucks, but right now it was empty. At three in the afternoon, the majority of workers had finished. Those who remained were foremen, security guards, and office workers.

An uneasiness crawled through Chase. Not sure why he felt the need, he opened the glove compartment, took out the handgun, and secured it in the back waistband of his jeans. His denim jacket hid the piece well. Despite having the permit for six years, the closest he had ever been to using the weapon had been the night he found Laura terrorized.

He climbed the stairs quickly and pushed open the glass door leading into the office. He was careful not to let it clang behind him. How strange seeing another woman sitting at Laura’s desk, a willowy bleached blonde, her dark roots advertising a touchup was long overdue. Her fingers plugged at the keyboard.

“You must be the new bookkeeper,” Chase said. The woman, several years younger than Laura, swirled from the monitor. “I’m Chase Donovan.” He extended his hand.

Her stare crept over him, then she smiled. “Marla Baker.” She shook Chase’s hand, holding on a bit too long and squeezing a bit too hard. “Gee, I wish I had this job before her.”

He took back his hand. “Excuse me?”

Her gray eyes had a sizzling glint, her smile an edge as her top lip curled higher on one side than the other. “If I had been the bookkeeper before Laura, I might be in her shoes today.” The V-neck of her ruby red sweater plunged a bit too deeply for office wear. She leaned forward in her chair, giving Chase a view of her ample bosom.

“My wife’s shoes?” His expression was stony.

“You know what I mean,” she said with a wink.

He shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Yes, Chase most certainly did get the meaning. And he wasn’t interested. He had exactly what he wanted back in Sea Tower.

The woman pouted and eased back in her chair.

Chase nodded toward Dick’s private office. “Is he in?”

“You didn’t tell your father you were coming? He’s in Florida.”

A wave of relief washed over Chase. Breathing space. He had easy access to the files with his father gone. And their conversation would wait.

Again, Marla leaned forward. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.” The tip of her tongue darted out and circled her lips. “You might have to stay a few days.”

If nothing else, the woman was persistent. “I wasn’t planning on staying more than a day,” Chase said. “I’m still on my honeymoon. I have a wife who I miss, and I am anxious to get back to her.”

“Chase Donovan!”

Chase and a glowering Marla turned to the doorway. Rachel, her streaked hair extra spikey, stood by the photocopier. She had a large white plastic bag, obviously having returned from a Rita’s Diner snack run.

His smile was a simple one. “Hi, Rachel.”

She placed the bag on Marla’s desk and threw her arms around his neck. “I can‘t believe it! Are you really, truly married, or just pulling my leg? I’ll tell you, I nearly fainted when I got the email.” The day Laura had emailed Kate about missing a lunch date, Chase emailed Rachel requesting Laura’s transfer from her own individual health care coverage to his.

He grinned. “Laura and I are married.”

“Congratulations.” Rachel pressed against Chase, a little too close for a congratulatory hug. He quickly backed away.

“Is she with you?” Rachel asked.

“No. Laura tires easily these days. You did take care of that health insurance business, right?” They had used his membership number with Dr. Silver’s office.

Rachel nodded. “Is Laura sick?”

His father hadn’t spread the news. “Laura’s pregnant. We’re having a baby,” he said proudly. “My father didn’t tell you?”

Rachel responded with a gaping mouth and a head shake. She was speechless.
Savor the moment.

“Marla tells me my father’s in Florida,” he said, moving on.

“Meeting with a new orange broker. If you want to call him, I have contact information. He’ll be home tomorrow night.” She cocked her head to the side. “Laura’s actually pregnant?”

“Sure is,” Chase said. “I’ll get Dad’s number later. I want to use his office for some calls.” He gave Marla a cordial smile. “Nice to meet you. Good luck with your new job.” He turned toward his father’s office.

As he closed the door behind him, Chase heard Marla say, “Damn! He’s hotter than I heard.”

Rachel snorted. “And I’ll be a naked slut. In all the time Laura Roberts worked here, sitting right where you are, she barely spoke to Chase. It turns out, she was screwing him.” Rachel’s astonishment was clear; part shock, part envy. “She even managed to get herself knocked up.”

“And married. Lucky bitch,” Marla muttered.

Rachel’s laugh was more like a snort. “More like smart bitch.”

Chase scowled, having no patience for office gossip. And having gotten to know Laura, grow closer to her while they were docked during the storm, he understood why she and Rachel were civil office mates, but little else. Snippy chitchat wasn’t his wife’s style.

He didn’t want to go directly to the file room and begin snooping around. So he snooped in his father’s office. Nothing out of the ordinary caught Chase’s attention. Dick’s golf trophies on the top shelf of a mahogany bookcase needed a polishing. The bookcase held a backlog of farmer’s almanacs. Chase never quite understood why the old man had them. He certainly didn’t read them. Photographs hung on the wall, Dick with mediocre politicians and local sports celebrities.

He flipped through the day planner. Nothing unusual regarding the broker in Florida, a dealer that other area proprietors used. It appeared the trip had been planned for several weeks. Dick may have mentioned the jaunt to Chase. Many times, perhaps too many, he simply ignored his father‘s conversations.

After skimming the computer printouts, he pulled on each of the four desk drawers. He yanked harder on the last one and muttered a curse. He wasn’t aware the drawers locked, let alone knew where a spare key was kept. Asking Rachel would arouse her suspicions.