Seven-Year Seduction (11 page)

She imagined her brother and his wife bringing their first child home from the hospital…Nick rocking the baby while it slept; Karen sitting there, breast-feeding.

But suddenly, it wasn't Karen rocking Beth's little niece or nephew. It was she, rocking
her
child. Her baby with Connor.

She'd never seen their child, having miscarried so early in her pregnancy, but she had no problem now making out every detail of her baby's features. The tiny little dot of a nose, the puffy baby cheeks, the delicate rosebud lips puckering in sleep.

A sob escaped her and she backed against the wall, feeling the impact of the loss like a musket ball to the stomach. She covered her mouth with her hand and sank to the floor, feeling tears streaming down her face.

Except for a lingering resentment toward Connor, she really thought she'd gotten over the emotional upheaval of the miscarriage years ago. How ironic to discover that while she'd managed to forgive Connor only days before for any part he did or didn't play in the events of seven years ago, it was the actual loss that still hung so heavily on her heart and soul.

It was so easy to envision what her life might have been if she hadn't lost the baby. If she'd remained pregnant and found the courage to tell Connor that they were going to be parents, she knew exactly what would have happened. They'd have gotten married and found somewhere to live right here in Crystal Springs, where they could be near her mom and dad.

And they would have been happy. She'd have finished school eventually and gone on to get her law degree…or maybe she'd have been happy as a stay-at-home mom. She and Connor might have had a couple more kids, her days filled with running carpools, cooking dinners and throwing birthday parties the envy of the neighborhood.

And as successful, as happy as she'd been with her life in L.A., she knew she would have been equally—maybe even more—happy staying in her own home-town as a wife and mother.

But only to Connor and his children.

How had life gone so terribly wrong? She'd had such big hopes and dreams in high school and her first years of college, all of which had come crashing down in a matter of weeks. Whether it was the miscarriage or Connor's failure to call her after the night they were together didn't seem to matter now. None of it did. It was just life, with all its ups and downs, joys and disappointments.

She'd made mistakes along the way, too. Not telling Connor the truth from the very beginning possibly being one of the biggest.

Before she went back to California, she would be sure to rectify that. It wouldn't be easy, she knew, but it had to be done. He deserved to know, and she deserved to spend the rest of her life with a clear conscience.

They could never go back, never reclaim what was already lost, but they could move forward and continue to be friends instead of avoiding each other like the plague.

Of course, after last night, that might not be entirely possible. But getting past secret-sex guilt had to be simpler than getting past secret-pregnancy guilt and seven years of lies.

Taking a deep breath, Beth wiped her eyes and climbed to her feet. To her surprise, she felt relieved and more comfortable in her own skin than she had in ages. It wasn't just the crying jag that cleansed her spirit, she realized, but her decision to come clean with Connor. What a crushing weight that had been to carry around all these years.

She was still sniffing, drying her face with the hem of her shirt when a floorboard squeaked and she lifted her head to find Connor standing on the other side of the doorway. He'd pulled on a clean pair of boxer shorts, but was otherwise gloriously naked. The sun spilling through the windows was brighter now, turning his legs and chest a golden bronze.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brows drawing together in concern. “What's wrong?”

She made one last swipe at her face, even though she knew it was too late to hide the fact that she'd been crying. He'd already noticed her tear-stained cheeks and red, swollen nose.

“Nothing, I'm fine,” she said. And then she shook her head. “No, that's not entirely true.”

Reaching out, she took his hand and pulled him farther into the room. “Connor, there's something I need to tell you.”

His face blanched, his grip on her hand tightening as he sensed it was bad news. “Okay.”

She took a deep breath and dived in, knowing if she didn't, she might never get it out. “I never told you this, but seven years ago, when we slept together after that football game, I got pregnant.”

His expression didn't change, but she felt his entire body turn to stone. Whether that meant he was furious with her or merely digesting the information, she pressed on.

“I didn't tell you, and I should have. I think I would have, early on, if you had ever called or come to see me.”

She held up her free hand, not to ward off any arguments he might make, but to keep herself from traveling down that tired, well-worn path.

“I'm not blaming you or saying you did anything wrong. We both made mistakes seven years ago, and if we had it to do over again, I'm sure we would do things a bit differently. I'm just telling you this because…” She lowered her eyes and licked her dry lips. “You deserve to know. And I'm tired of keeping it a secret, tired of being mad at you for something you weren't even aware of.”

“I don't understand.” His voice rasped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, searching for words. “If you were pregnant, where's the baby?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question. She'd been expecting a barrage of anger, a furious
why didn't you tell me?
Instead, she realized she hadn't shared with him the most important part of what had happened all those years ago.

“I'm sorry, Connor. I should have told you right away,” she said, her own throat threatening to close on her. “I lost the baby.”

For long minutes, he held her gaze, barely blinking, barely breathing. “I don't know what to say,” he finally forced out.

“It's all right, you don't have to say anything. I just…don't want you to hate me. I spent a lot of time carrying this pain around with me, and even though I think you have the right to know everything that happened back then, I don't want you to make the same mistake now.”

“I wish you'd told me. As soon as you found out.”

She nodded in agreement. “I know. I wish I had, too. But I was young and scared, and I hadn't heard from you since that night.”

His fingers clamped around hers. “If I'd known, I would have done the right thing. I never would have let you go through that alone.”

One corner of her mouth turned up in a bittersweet half smile. “I know you wouldn't have. And I appreciate it.”

They stood there for several more seconds, each at a loss as to what else needed to be said. Beth hoped her confession would ease her conscience, but she also hoped Connor wouldn't dwell too long on the past…the way she had.

“I'm flying back to California tomorrow,” she said after the silence had dragged on for a full minute. Running her palm over his stubbled cheek, she added, “Thank you for last night, and thank you for that night seven years ago. Despite everything, I really am glad you were my first.”

With that, she pulled her hand from his and stepped around him, out of the room.

C
onnor stood in stunned silence long after Beth walked away. Minutes or even hours might have passed, he wasn't sure which. And he didn't care.

He heard Beth's footsteps as she paced down the hall, heard her moving around in her bedroom, likely packing. And he wanted to chase after her, he really did. But his feet seemed glued to the floor, and his brain refused to function past the bomb she'd just dropped on him.

They'd made a baby together and he'd never known it. She'd lost that baby and he'd never known it. The ramifications of those facts whirled through his head like a tornado.

He thought he'd been an idiot seven years ago for
letting things get out of hand with her in the first place, but now he
knew
he was an idiot for not checking on her afterward. For not calling to see if she was all right, both physically and emotionally. For not driving up to the university to be sure there'd been no consequences from his lapse of judgment.

He'd been young, sure, but old enough to take responsibility for his actions, especially where Beth was concerned. If anything, he owed her more courtesy and respect than other girls because they'd grown up together, practically as family.

A baby.
He couldn't believe it. He'd fought his attraction to her for so long, and the one time he'd given in, he'd gotten her pregnant. Worse, she hadn't felt comfortable enough to come to him when she'd found out.

He had no one but himself to blame for that. The signals he'd been sending her since their early teens must have confused her beyond reason. Between treating her like a pesky little sister, then casting longing glances in her direction when he thought she wasn't looking, she probably hadn't known which end was up. And then he hadn't even had the courtesy to contact her the day after taking her virginity.

What a heel! What a dumb, selfish jerk! He'd walked away seven years ago, thinking they could forget, pretend that night hadn't happened.

But she hadn't been able to pretend or forget, had she? She'd been young, alone and unexpectedly pregnant by a man who not only didn't call her after sleeping with her, but did his level best to avoid being alone with her any time she came home for a visit.

To top it all off, she'd also been alone when she miscarried. He couldn't imagine how horrible that must have been for her. The fear, the pain, the sadness. No wonder she'd treated him like a particularly foul species of vermin whenever he was around. He deserved every ounce of her disdain—that and more.

And he didn't have a clue how to make up for any of it…or if he ever could.

His head was still spinning when Beth peeked around the corner and caught his attention. She wore her work clothes, the jeans and top they'd bought during their trip for nursery supplies.

“I called the airline,” she said softly. “Now that the storm has passed, flights are back on track. My plane for L.A. leaves tomorrow afternoon. I was wondering if you'd drive me over to say goodbye to Mom and Dad in the morning, then drop me off at the airport.”

He nodded, not quite able to manage actual words yet. His throat felt as though someone had their hands around his neck, squeezing,
squeezing
until he couldn't breathe.

A beat passed before she murmured a quiet thank-you and returned to her room.

God, how was he going to resolve this? How could he assimilate everything that had happened, everything she'd told him, and put it right? And if she was leaving tomorrow, did he even have time?

He didn't want her to leave again, fly all the way across the country, with this between them. Possibly forever. They'd spent the last seven years feeling awkward and avoiding each other…he didn't want to slip
back into that strained behavior simply because he was fool enough to let her get on a plane before they'd cleared the air.

But how he was going to do that, he hadn't a clue.

 

Connor sat in his truck at the curb while Beth said goodbye to her parents. He'd driven her over earlier, expecting a quick visit before taking her the rest of the way to the airport, but Helen and Patrick had been so happy to see their daughter again and so sorry to see her go, that they'd insisted Beth and Connor sit down with them for a nice lunch of cold-meat sandwiches and fruit salad.

It had reminded him of old times, but he'd still felt uncomfortable. Helen and Patrick Curtis had always treated him like one of their own, even though he'd been nothing more than the scruffy foster child from across the street. He'd been a troublemaker, but they'd looked beyond that to the boy beneath who was desperate for a family, a place to belong, and for someone to love him. They'd given him all that and more, and continued to into his adulthood.

He would do anything for them, which included
not
betraying their trust by taking advantage of their only daughter.

But it was a little late to avoid that trap, wasn't it? He'd not only slept with Beth the night before last, he'd taken her virginity seven years ago, leaving her pregnant and alone. Thankfully, those particular gems of information hadn't come up during lunch.

He also hadn't thought of a single solution for set
tling things between them. She was saying her farewells to her mom and dad on the front lawn, then he would drop her off for her flight to California. Never to be seen again.

At least not for a good long while. She didn't come home very often. And she most especially wouldn't come home just to see him.

Dammit. What was he going to do?

The passenger door opened, breaking into his troubled thoughts. She climbed in beside him and he noticed the telltale glimmer in her eyes.

“You okay?”

She turned to look at him, sniffing to hold back tears. “Yeah, I just…never expected it to be so hard to leave.” Digging in her purse for a tissue, she dabbed at her nose. “I've been back other times, but it's never felt this bad to take off again.”

“Maybe that's because this time felt more like coming home.”

The sudden leeching of color from her face told him he'd hit a little too close to the bone. But instead of responding, she glanced out the window, waving to her parents, who still stood in the yard. He took the hint and started the truck, lifting his own hand to Helen and Patrick as they pulled away from the curb.

The ride to the airport passed in silence. Not uncomfortable, just…quiet. He tried a dozen times to broach the subject of their relationship—past and present. The words swirled in his head, forming and then fading away before they reached the tip of his tongue.

He wanted to punch the steering wheel in frustration. Why couldn't he figure out what to say to her?

Pulling into the airport parking area, he shut off the pickup's engine and got out to unload her luggage from the truck bed. They made their way into the terminal. Beth checked her suitcase at the desk, and they walked together toward security.

Before reaching the metal detectors, she stopped, twisting slowly on the sole of her black pumps to lift her head and meet his gaze.

She was wearing a black power suit that made her look every inch the competent lawyer. Black slacks, black jacket, with a burnt-orange blouse underneath to brighten things up. Small gold hoops adorned her ears, a thin gold chain sparkling around her neck beneath the collar of her blouse. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was on her way to a multimillion-dollar contract negotiation. And he had no doubt she'd win every argument she made.

Her blue eyes shone up at him and his gut clenched at her never-ending beauty. Not just on the outside, but on the inside, too. She was everything he'd ever wanted in a woman, yet they were destined to revolve around each other, never stopping long enough to figure out what was really going on. Like asteroids, flying through space, occasionally crashing into one another before shooting off again in the opposite direction.

Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she said, “You don't have to go the rest of the way with me. I'll be fine, and I know you must have better things to do with your day than sitting around waiting for my plane to board.”

He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, rocking back on the heels of his work boots. “Are you sure?”

She offered him a kind smile. “I'm sure.”

Reaching out, she brushed her hand down the length of his arm, her heat warming him even through the light blue material. “Thank you for all you did while I was home this time. We may have started out on the wrong foot, but it was nice of you to drive me around when I needed it.”

“No problem.” A beat passed while he attempted to bring one of his earlier speeches to the forefront of his mind. Instead, all he could think to say was, “It was good to see you again.”

“You, too, Connor.”

“I'm sorry about everything, Beth Ann,” he blurted out.

He would have said more, but she raised a hand, covering his mouth with two soft, manicured fingers.

“I told you, it's all right.” She let her fingertips fall from his lips, landing on his forearm instead. “I'm glad we're friends again. I've missed you.”

His mouth went stone dry at that and he could have sworn he felt tears prickling behind his eyes.

“Call me sometime,” she added.

And then, before he could clear his throat to respond, she shifted the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder, offered him one final, friendly smile, and turned to leave.

He watched her pass through security, walking off toward her gate without a backward glance. His stom
ach churned, his palms sweating as he realized it was too late. She was gone. He'd missed his chance.

He stood there for several more minutes, watching after her—wishing she would come back into view, that he could relive their conversation and do it right instead of letting her slip away before he'd cleared his mind and his conscience.

With a heavy sigh, he let his chin drop to his chest dejectedly. That's it, it was over.

He wasn't even sure what he'd hoped to accomplish, other than making sure she knew how sorry he was for not being there for her seven years ago, for not being around to learn about the baby or help her through the miscarriage.

But the single resounding thought looping through his mind as he left the airport and headed for his truck wasn't that he'd failed to call her after they slept together the first time, or that he'd never known he was almost a father.

It was that he'd lost her.

 

A week later, Connor stood in the doorway of the finished nursery, his shoulder against the jamb as he studied the ocean-blue walls, the sea-creatures wallpaper border, the billowy white curtains. He'd put together a crib for the corner and a changing table for the far wall, and even installed a shelf above the table for powder, wipes, stuffed animals, whatever.

He'd done it all on his own, without Beth's guidance and feminine touch. And he'd missed it, dammit. He'd missed her.

Luckily, a woman at the store had pointed him in the right direction and helped him pick out some of the items. But just in case, he'd kept the receipts so Nick and Karen could return or exchange anything they didn't care for.

They'd gotten back from their honeymoon yesterday, and he'd reluctantly shown them the room. He'd wanted it to be a surprise, wanted to do something special for his best friend and his new wife and child. And he thought he'd accomplished that. Nick had been shocked at the transformation of his old bedroom, and Karen had burst into tears, sniffing and laughing happily as she moved around touching every stuffed animal, admiring each and every detail.

He was glad his friends liked the room, but his own pleasure in their reactions had been dampened by Beth's absence. It had been
their
project, not just his. She should have been there to see her brother's face and receive one of Karen's bone-crushing hugs.

He could picture her standing on a stepladder, affixing the border paper to the top of the wall, glue in her hair, paper unrolling out of control. He could hear her laughter as she struggled to keep her balance, see the gentle curve of her bottom beneath those low-riding jeans she'd worn while they worked, and imagined himself walking up behind her, running his hands over her legs and derriere until she gave up on her task and turned to kiss him instead.

Skipping ahead a few years, his brain decided to take a sharp detour into what their lives would be if they actually got together, if they married and started
a family of their own. They would have a nursery just like this someday…or at least similar. Beth would bring her own unique sense of style to the decorating process, so their child could definitely look forward to something more exciting than clowns or teddy bears.

She would rock their babies to sleep while he watched from the doorway, then they would both put the child to bed and stand at the side of the crib, hand in hand, gazing down at the miracle they'd created.

God, he wanted that, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose where a headache was starting to throb.

So why did he only figure that out now, when it was already too late?

Distracted by his daydreams and self-flagellation, Connor didn't hear Nick come up behind him until his friend slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Admiring your handiwork?”

“Yeah,” he said, returning Nick's grin, even though it wasn't close to his true train of thought.

“I still can't believe you and Beth did all this. I wish she'd stuck around long enough for Karen and me to thank her.” He gave Connor's shoulder another squeeze. “Thank you, too, man. You can't know what this means to us.”

Connor inclined his head. “You deserve it. Both of you. I hope you'll be happy together for a long, long time.”

Pushing away from the wall, he dug into his hip pocket and pulled out a small stack of paper slips. “Here. In case you want to return anything.”