Suddenly Expecting (9 page)

“Kat, you’re killing me here,” he said softly. “What did he say?”

“They’re doing another test, to double-check the results,” she began. “But...”

“Yes?”

“Preliminary tests were...” Her eyes rounded, disbelieving. “Positive.” She swallowed, her voice cracking. “They were positive.”

Oh, dear God.

For one second the world stopped spinning. He realized he’d gotten out a thick “What?” but the shock quickly drowned everything else out. She was... She had...

No. Just no.

NO.

He realized he was staring, silent and disbelieving, until he saw her tears spilling, slowly coursing down her cheeks, and his heart just shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Nononononono—

He surged forward just as she let out a gut-wrenching sob. In a few strides he’d crossed the room, and then he was crushing her against his chest.

She collapsed into him, and when he felt her begin to shake, he just held on tighter.

Impotent fury surged because he couldn’t help her, couldn’t stop her tears, couldn’t do a damn thing but hold her, muttering totally useless sentiments while she cried and cried and broke his heart over and over.

He swallowed thick gulps of air, tightening his embrace as she trembled in his arms. She was so damn strong all the time, and it killed him to see her so broken now. After her mother’s death, she’d never allowed herself to think about this possibility. She’d been determined to live her life without a death sentence tainting every moment. But now...now...

He held on tight, feeling her body shake, her tears dampening his shoulder, and he swallowed again and again, sucked it all up and bit back all his pain even as he felt his own tears spill on his cheeks. She needed him to be the strong one here. He’d be useless to her any other way.

Yet how could he when everything inside him throbbed with pain and fury and the injustice of it all?

That anger took flame, growing with each second, until thankfully he managed to force back the tears. “We’ll get another test,” he muttered against her hair. “And then another. They could’ve made a mistake—it happens all the time.”

She muttered something unintelligible, and when she finally lifted her face to his, her expression so broken and torn, he couldn’t help himself.

He leaned down and kissed her, hard.

She kissed him back just as fiercely, her small whimper warm in his mouth, her cheeks wet against his. When he angled her head and thrust his tongue between her lips, she groaned, welcoming him, her hands fisting in his shirt to pull him closer.

His brain shorted out as lust instantly exploded. He grabbed her arms and kept kissing her, her gasps of pleasure feathering over his lips, her hands grappling with his shirt, yanking it from his pants.

And then she was backing him up, and suddenly they were sprawled on the couch with her on top, mouths still locked.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. The emotion of the moment had completely hijacked any thought of common sense. With frantic hands they worked his pants open then off, then attacked her shirt, ripping it with their urgency. This was lust at its highest, the kind of clothes-ripping, skin-biting rush that left no room for soft words of love. It was just about the physical coming together of two people in desperate emotional need to connect, to prove they were still alive and were far from done yet.

He yanked up her skirt then dragged down her knickers, briefly reveling in her soft skin, in the warm, throbbing life of her, before she was bracing her hands on each side of his head. With mouths still locked in a desperate kiss, he grasped her hips, shifting her slightly, before plunging her straight down onto his aching manhood.

Her gasp rent the air and he groaned against her hot mouth, feeling the hard pulse of his arousal buried deep inside her. For a dozen breathtaking moments they remained still, intimately joined but unmoving as their eyes locked and they shared one breath.

It was...she was...incredible. Amazing.

With shaky hands, he swept his thumbs over her cheeks, sweeping away the last of her tears, before placing a slow, agonizing kiss first over one eyelid then the other.

“Kat...”

Her expression crumbled. “Please, Marco. Don’t talk.” Then she swooped down for a kiss, silencing him, and began to slowly, sensuously rock.

Instinctively he gripped her hips, taking charge of the rhythm, commanding her body. His heart pounded thickly, blood racing. He may have heard her whimper; he wasn’t sure because his heart was beating so damn fast it felt as if the whole room echoed with it. And past that, there was the faint, sensuous sound of flesh on flesh coupled with their heavy breathing.

She rolled into him, biting her lip. “Marco...”

“Yeah?” His gaze met hers, and the raw need etched on her face blew him away.

“Touch me...”

He did as she asked, and her eyes closed in pleasure, her hands covering his as he skimmed over the velvet flesh of her stomach, her waist, then up over her ribs to finally cup her breasts. His thumbs teased her already sensitive nipples and she hissed, grinding harder into him.

She leaned down and he took her mouth in breathless kisses over and over, until he was about to explode, until the friction and heat where their bodies joined escalated to the point where they were both on the brink.

He felt her tighten around him and he groaned, gripping her hips and thrusting hard, until she panted against his mouth, her eyes squeezed shut. Then, with a soft cry and a ragged breath, he felt her go over the edge.

He shuddered, a deep, satisfied groan wrenching from his lips as he followed her. She collapsed on his chest as he murmured her name, his breath against her cheek, arms tight, holding her close. He felt her response against his neck, her body damp and shaking as she wrapped her arms around him, legs tightening with a sigh. “Don’t move. Stay right here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,
chérie.
” His fingers went into her hair, stroking her nape as the tight throb in his body began to slowly ease.

He blinked.

He loved her.

Just when the hell had that happened? And how? He searched his memory, going over each moment with determined concentration. Had it happened since that night ten weeks ago? Or sooner?

A frown furrowed his brow. It really didn’t matter when, just that it
was.
He loved her as a best friend, as a lover. As a smart, amazing, funny, gorgeous and incredibly vulnerable woman. He loved that fourteen-year-old girl with the perfect hair and bright blue eyes, who’d stood up to his teasing. He loved that vulnerable, crazy nineteen-year-old, the one who’d needed him so desperately, the one who’d leaned on his shoulder, who’d needed
him
in her moment of grief. The woman who’d made mistakes in love and life and still continued to get back up, to forge her way and give the finger to all her critics.

The woman who had just received the worst possible news you could ever get.

No. He couldn’t stop reality from intruding, but damn, he gave it his best shot. He knew the moment she felt it, too; her breath shook just a little on the intake and her arms tightened around him.

“No, don’t,” he said softly.

Too late.

She slowly slid off him in silence. As she fiddled with her underwear and pulled her skirt down, he took the moment to quickly adjust his pants. When he swung his feet to the floor, his breath snagged at her expression. How much effort was she exerting now, just to remain so calm, so in control? She was trying to hold it all together so he wouldn’t see her at her absolute worst.

When she turned her back to him to do up her buttons, the curse he swallowed hurt like jagged glass.
Don’t you dare lose it. Not when she’s managing to keep it all together.

“We should find out when we can go back to the mainland,” he said softly, her back still to him. He had a few seconds to admire the smooth skin of her thighs, the gentle curve of her hip, the strong shoulders as she squared them and finally turned to face him, pushing back that mane of hair.

“Yes. I’ll need to make some more calls, too.”

“Kat.” He leaned forward, looped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Surprisingly she offered no protest, just went into his arms silently. He held her, without passion and without subterfuge, just two friends sharing an embrace.

Finally he said, “Let’s not jump to any conclusions here. They want to retest you. We should wait until that happens before we start making decisions.”

He felt her nod against his chest, knew without confirmation that she was already thinking, planning. Making decisions. Her brain never stopped working, and now, of all days, she needed to make logical, sensible choices.

With a sigh she finally pulled away from him, and reluctantly he let her go. She went over to the table and grabbed her phone. “I have to make a few calls.”

Seven

A
fter Marco confirmed that the port at Cairns would reopen in a few hours, Kat used all her negotiation skills—and a few pleas—to wrangle an appointment with the geneticist for the very next day. Then they made a number of calls to let people know they were alive and well.

From what they gathered, Cairns was a disaster area. Parts of the city still had no water and electricity, and phone coverage was spotty. With the tropical climate, it was crucial those services be up and running again as soon as possible. It would be an arduous task, one that required a coordinated effort of all rescue services, plus private contractors. At least when the ports were clear and operating, supplies could be shipped in, and the massive cleanup could begin.

Armed with that information, they set about doing physical tasks around the house—ripping the tape off the windows they hadn’t already gotten to, and clearing more of the debris that would probably take a few weeks to get into some semblance of order, because all services would give priority to the mainland.

It was good to keep busy, to just focus on the pure physicality of lifting, clearing, moving. She’d assumed there’d be no time to think about tests, babies, Grace or the situation with Marco, but as they worked and sweat quickly soaked Kat’s shirt, she found her mind was not so easily swayed.

You can’t have this baby.
She couldn’t. It was the exact reason she’d vowed not to have kids. Her heart squeezed painfully and she scowled, putting more force than necessary into her raking task.

What her mother had gone through, what
she’d
gone through, watching her slowly wither and die from that death sentence... It was a pain so unfathomable that she’d willingly shift a mountain to prevent it from happening. It was one thing to cope with having the disease, to know exactly what she’d be facing every single day for the rest of her short life. But to willingly bring a child into that equation? No. Never.

Her eyes flicked briefly to Marco, then away. Yes, the pain of termination would cut deep, but it was preferable to a lifetime of anguish, of knowing she could have prevented it but selfishly did nothing. She would not put a child nor Marco through that.

Ah. No. Don’t think about it.
But she couldn’t help it—her thoughts were already there, crowding her head with every single possible scenario until it was the only thing she could think about.

She gritted her teeth, wielding the rake with such force that she heard the handle creak.
Damn. Something else. Think of...the cyclone. Work. Yes, work.
Grace would want her on top of this, sourcing stories, digging up information. She’d be so busy she wouldn’t have a second to scratch herself, let alone think about...
that.

She winced. And so it would begin again—Grace would choose the stories worthy of their effort and attention, the appropriate donation lines would be set up and a dozen other untold issues would remain just a couple of sentences in her notes.

The futility frustrated her.

And so she spent the next half hour focused on cleaning up, and eventually, with her arm and thigh muscles aching from the effort, they managed to clear a good part of the mess surrounding the house.

Finally Marco straightened, grabbed a bottle of water from beneath the tree and took a swig, then picked up his phone. “We should finish up.”

Kat paused, scratching at a thin bead of sweat running down her neck as he handed her another bottle. “Okay.”

“We’ll probably make the mainland by three.”

She nodded, one hand on her hip as she took a long swallow.

When he fell silent, she could feel his eyes on her. “Kat...”

Her gaze snapped to his as she finished the water, and the look in his eyes had her insides crumbling all over again. “Marco,” she breathed. “Don’t.”

“But I have to say—”

“No,” she said, a little too forcefully. “Don’t say a thing. We did that already and look where that’s gotten us. I don’t want to say anything more until I have those follow-up tests in my hands. Until I know for sure.” She studied him for a moment, taking in the tightness bracketing his mouth, his slightly clenched fist. “Promise me. No talk until we know.”

As the seconds stretched, she held her breath, willing him with her mind. She’d coped with her mother’s illness by not discussing, by not talking. She couldn’t recall having one single deep and meaningful conversation with her father about what was going on, how she was coping, what he was feeling. He wasn’t a talker at the best of times, but in this his lips had been perfectly sealed. Not talking was the only way she knew—that and partying until the nights had all just become one big, glitzy blur.

If Marco made her discuss just one more thing about this mind-boggling situation, she was sure she’d dissolve into a bawling mess on the floor.

“Fine.”

Her breath whooshed out, relief flooding in. “Thank you. Now—” she attempted a smile but it fell way flat “—I don’t know about you but I definitely need a shower before we head back to civilization.”

* * *

How she managed to keep everything together for the entire day, Marco would never know. It was a testament to her inner strength, to her willpower, that she went through the motions of the boat trip strong and silently, pale-faced but determinedly swallowing her nausea.

And slowly, as the mainland came closer and closer, their attention was commanded by the shocking result of Cyclone Rory against the mainland of Cairns.

The radio reports had done nothing to prepare them for the devastation. It looked as if someone had stomped through in giant boots and created total havoc. A dozen private boats were all bunched up and shoved against the harbor wall like toys. The majestic palm trees were flattened, some crushing houses, some merely uprooted. Debris, sand, trees, glass, broken buildings and belongings... Everything had been displaced and reorganized into odd clusters, like the small speedboat half-buried in a luxury beach house. The kid’s bike hanging from a lone palm tree. A cracked plasma TV lying in the middle of a now-sand-covered Esplanade pool. There were ripped roofs and scattered belongings and broken dreams left bare and torn.

Everywhere they looked, the cyclone had transformed the coastline into something neither of them recognized. In solemn silence they managed to dock, even though flotsam still floated in the water, then picked their way across the amazing wreck that was The Esplanade, to the next street, where Marco had arranged for a car to pick them up.

The drive north through town was made in similar silence as they were guided through the traffic snarl and stared out at the damage, trying to wrap their heads around the utter devastation the storm had wrought.

Physical devastation to accompany the emotional.

Marco swallowed, his gaze going briefly to Kat in the passenger seat, then back to the litter-strewn road, his eyes firmly on the police and rescue workers directing traffic and controlling the dozen news cars competing with business owners and volunteers eager to start the cleanup.

No, he had to stop those thoughts right now. They didn’t know. Not until—as she said—she had the hard evidence in her hand. Then they would deal with whatever needed to be dealt with. So he bundled all those horrible thoughts, the possible future scenarios, and locked them up tight.

Her ringing phone provided some respite. After a brief conversation that mostly involved her listening to the caller, she hung up and said, “Grace needs me.” He simply nodded.

“I’ll drop you off.”

* * *

When they pulled up outside the studio, Kat swung from the car and then glanced back.

“Thanks. I’ll let you know how I go.”

“You sure you don’t want me there?” he asked for the third time, studying her face carefully as she leaned in.

She nodded. “Grace confided in me. I should be the one to tell her. And the sooner she knows the better.” Her ironic smile was brief. “Preempt that press statement I just know she’s been working on.”

He snorted but said nothing more, so she gave him a smile, said “Thanks” again and left.

But as she strode into the studio, her mind was still on the island, far from the Grace situation. It was as if the time they’d spent there had been their own personal bubble. Now it was back to reality.

She sighed as she dug out her ID and then swept into the building. Time to focus on what she needed to tell Grace.

“Just say whatever comes into your head” had been Marco’s advice on the boat. And he was right. Some of her best stuff for
The Tribune
had been spontaneous and off-the-cuff. Too much rehearsing had felt overedited and scripted. This was one time where she didn’t want things to sound forced.

With a pounding heart, she clipped down the corridor straight to her office, grabbing a runner on the way to determine Grace’s whereabouts. She eventually ended up at the canteen, pausing in the doorway to scan the room, her eyes eventually landing on the TV star at a corner table with their executive producer.

Right. This was it. She took a deep breath and strode over, a smile on her face.

Grace spotted her a few feet away, and a second later she gasped and shot to her feet, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Kat! Oh, my God, it’s great to see you! How’ve you been?”

She was quickly enveloped in a warm Estee Lauder–scented hug, and then firmly cheek kissed. “You were so vague on the phone—you were with Marco on the island, right? Did the cyclone hit there or pass by? Was there much damage? Did you take photos? Sit and tell me everything!”

Acutely aware of the sudden attention, Kat went through the motions of nodding and smiling, accepting hugs and arm pats then thanking everyone for their good wishes until her face started to ache from the smiling. Finally, when the minor fuss had settled and everyone moved back to their tables, she leaned in to Grace.

“I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Grace’s unlined brow went up. “Sure. Let’s go into my office.”

It took a few minutes to get out of the canteen and then down the corridor. But finally they were in Grace’s vibrant yellow-and-blue office, the air smelling faintly of Estee Lauder’s Beautiful, her signature scent.

“So, what’s up, Kat?” Grace smiled curiously, closing the door behind her. “Did you want to run a new story idea past me?”

“No.” Kat eased onto the edge of the sofa, her insides churning. “It’s about Marco.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Boy, this was awkward, way more awkward than she’d thought. It was because it was Grace, someone she cared about. Someone who’d be hurt, no matter how skillful or pretty or unscripted her words were. It was personal this time, and she hated every single minute of it.

Still, she had to put on her big-girl knickers and get it done. So she took a breath and plunged right in.

“Grace. Marco and me...me and him... Well, we’re kind of...” Kind of what?
Together? Bed partners? Having a baby?
“Involved,” she finished lamely.

Oh, way to go. Put those media skills to great use there.

Silence reigned, somehow made thicker by the soft fragrance permeating the air, as the expression on Grace’s perfectly made-up face went through the emotions in a matter of seconds—amused surprise, confusion, disbelief—until she settled on a dark frown. “I’m sorry...what?”

“Marco and I are...involved.”

Grace slowly crossed her arms. “Yes, you said that. But what does that actually mean? You guys are always involved in one way or another.”

“We slept together.”

Grace’s eyes rounded. “What? When?”

Kat swallowed, her gaze firm. “Ten weeks ago, just before he left for France.”
And these past few days...
Although she didn’t need to spell that out, because judging from the look on Grace’s face, she’d already assumed that.

Grace’s slow blink and sudden laden silence said everything and yet nothing at all. So instead of elaborating, instead of trying to justify an action that had obviously cut deep, Kat waited.

Grace slowly sat down behind her desk then leaned back on the plush office chair, her face carefully blank. “I see. A little farewell private party, was it?”

“Grace...” Kat’s chest tightened. God, this was hard! “You two weren’t together at the time—”

“Oh, thanks for checking on that.” The brief grimace slashing Grace’s features twisted a little knife in Kat’s belly. “It makes me feel so much better.”

“I meant, I didn’t plan on—”

Grace held up a hand. “Stop. I really don’t need to know the details.” She paused, raking her gaze over Kat until the burn of humiliation and betrayal had formed a small pool of sweat at the base of her spine.

“You knew when I mentioned wanting a baby,” Grace finally said.

Kat nodded.

“And you said nothing.”

Kat nodded again. “And I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t know what to say. At that point, the thing with me and Marco was just a...a...one-time thing. We’d both decided to just ignore it and move on. But now, after these last few days, we’ve talked and it’s all become a bit more...um...complicated.”

“How?”

Kat flushed. “Just...complicated.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

The shock of having it put right out there made Kat gasp, and she had to scramble for a breath. “Wh—what?”

“Are you pregnant?” Grace repeated, her expression tight.

Because it was Grace, a person she admired and respected, a person she’d come to trust with parts of her personal life, Kat hesitated over her automatic denial. But it was the small hesitation that gave it away, gave Grace clear and direct confirmation. And when the older woman’s face creased into a small smile, Kat’s conflict grew a thousandfold.

Please don’t ask. I can barely wrap my head around it all myself...and the test results just totally screw everything up.

Kat bit her lip and slid her gaze away. “No comment.”

Silence descended for a few moments, silence in which Kat firmly swallowed every emotion she’d been battling the past day. Damn, she couldn’t lose it again. She
wouldn’t
lose it again. She’d had her moment of weakness with Marco, had let the overwhelming feelings command her, make her vulnerable. She couldn’t do it every single time someone mentioned it. Otherwise she’d just be a blubbering wreck on the floor.