Sweet Promise (24 page)

But the real reason is you're trying to keep my mind occupied, and off Sean,
Joanna thought fondly, her gaze sliding once more to the dismal beauty beyond the windows.

It wasn't working. She'd been home over three weeks, and during that time she'd thought of little else. And after last night, she was hurting worse than ever.

Oh, God, if only she hadn't let herself be talked into going to that embassy party. She hadn't wanted to, but her mother and Matt had been insistent, and because she had known they were worried about her, she had given in.

Bitter, silent amusement rippled through Joanna when she recalled the pep talk she'd given herself as they had entered the embassy. It's time to pick up your life again, she'd lectured. You can't pine away forever. And anyway, Washington is a big town. Just because you're going to a party doesn't mean you'll run into Sean.

Brave words. And totally inaccurate. She had practically bumped into him the moment they entered the ballroom.

He had been standing just a few feet inside the door, and at the sight of him she had come to an abrupt halt, her heart crashing against her ribs. Even now, Joanna could remember, with painful clarity, every tension fraught moment of that disastrous encounter.

"Sean."

She hadn't even known she had spoken, but as his name whispered past her lips he had looked up, straight into her eyes. For a small eternity they simply stared at each other. Then, at last, he said quietly, "Hello, Joanna."

"Hello," she managed to choke out. Her heart was booming in her chest like a kettledrum, and for a panicked second she feared she would pass out.

Sean's gaze switched to Claire and Matt, who were standing on either side of Joanna, alert and wary as they watched the tense tabloid unfold. He nodded, and his mouth moved in a semblance of a smile. "Claire. Matt. Good to see you."

They returned the greeting, but Sean's gaze had already slid back to Joanna.

"How are you?"

"Fine. And you?"

"I'm doing okay."

"I... uh... want to wish you luck with your campaign. I read in the newspaper that you're making a bid for the nomination."

"Thanks."

"I... I was afraid you'd change your mind."

"I thought about it," Sean admitted, his eyes hardening a fraction. "But I decided it would be stupid not to, since it's what I want."

All through the banal conversation Joanna drank in the sight of him like someone dying of thirst who has just discovered a clear bubbling spring. She was so enthralled, it was several minutes before she even saw the blonde by his side, and still another before she realized that the woman's arm was linked with Sean's.

Seeming to become aware of the woman at the same time, Sean glanced down at her and looked back at Joanna sharply. "I'm sorry. I don't believe you've met Natalie Stone. Natalie, this is Joanna Andrews, and Claire and Matt Drummond."

"It's so nice to meet you. When Sean invited me to this party he said I'd probably meet some famous people but I certainly never expected to meet Claire Andrews," the woman gushed, eyeing Claire's protruding abdomen with avid interest.

"My name is Drummond now," Claire corrected with gentle firmness before glancing worriedly at Joanna's white face.

Helplessly, Joanna's stricken gaze went back and forth between Sean's face and the slender white arm resting on the dark sleeve of his tuxedo. In that moment, she thought she would surely die from the crushing pain that pressed in on her.

* * *

Joanna picked up another pecan and snapped it in two. During the past three weeks she had wondered if he was seeing other women. The uncertainty had been horrible, but knowing, she discovered, was worse. So much worse.

She wasn't sure how she had gotten through the rest of the evening. Now it was all a hazy blur of pain. She had thought that she'd concealed her feelings well though, until her mother had shown up on her doorstep bright and early that morning.

Joanna's gaze warmed when it lit on her mother. Over the past few years she had come to realize how lucky she was to have a mother like Claire, but never more than this morning. She hadn't pried or rendered judgment or offered advice, but had simply taken Joanna's hands in hers, and said, "You love him, don't you, darling?" And when Joanna had nodded and burst into tears, she had held her close until the storm had passed.

Then she had asked Joanna to move to the farm until after the baby arrived. "It will be good for you, and you can keep me company. And now that you've quit your job, there's no reason why you can't."

Joanna had tried to refuse, but where her loved ones were concerned, Claire wasn't above using a little emotional blackmail. "Please, darling. You'll be doing me a tremendous favor. With my due date so near Matt is absolutely terrified to leave me alone at the farm during the day. If you don't come I'm sure he'll end up hiring a nurse to stay with me."

Put that way, Joanna had really had little choice, but, she didn't mind. There was some comfort in being with people who loved you.

A smile curved Joanna's mouth as she followed her mother's waddling progress around the kitchen. She wore plum-colored maternity slacks and a plum-and-lilac top that looked wonderful with her gray eyes. Short curls framed her face beguilingly and gleamed like spun gold in the warm light of the kitchen. Flour covered her hands and arms up to her elbows, and there was a smudge of it on her cheek, yet Joanna had never seen her look more appealing. Claire had always been beautiful, but now there was a Madonna-like quality to her loveliness that took your breath away. It was no wonder that Sean had almost lost his heart to her four years ago, Joanna mused with love and pride, and just a touch of envy.

As she watched her mother, Joanna wondered wistfully if she would ever attain that kind of serenity, the kind that comes with loving and being loved in return.

* * *

Sean's fingers drummed an impatient tattoo on the table. He darted another look across the dimly lit bar to the entrance and shifted restlessly.
Where the devil is Matt?
A glance at his watch told him that Matt wasn't even due for another ten minutes, but knowing that did nothing to curb his restiveness.

Cupping his hand around the back of his neck, Sean squeezed the knotted muscles and rolled his head from side to side. God, he was tired. Between strategy sessions, hiring a staff, setting up a headquarters and scaring up backers, he'd been run ragged these past few weeks. It had been years since he'd actively worked on a campaign; he had forgotten just how hectic it could be.

But not so hectic that you don't think of Joanna a hundred times a day, he thought with both resentment and longing. Sean glanced at the door again and took a sip of bourbon.
Hell, face it, man. Nothing is going to wipe her out of your mind... or your heart. Even if she is too young, even though she's reckless and willful and spoiled—you love her. Which is why you're here, and why you asked Matt to meet you for a drink.

Had he been mistaken? No. No, he was almost certain that had been pain he'd seen in Joanna's eyes last night when she'd realized he was there with Natalie.

The memory of that wounded look brought a grimace to Sean's face. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Joanna. Why the devil had he even asked Natalie to go with him to that party? He hadn't wanted to. But like a pigheaded idiot, he'd been determined to prove to himself that he didn't need Joanna, that he could still enjoy the company of other women. What a laugh.

Still, his date with Natalie may not have been a total washout. If that was pain he'd seen in Joanna's eyes, then that meant she did care. Didn't it? And if she cared, that changed everything.

What Joanna had done was pushy and presumptuous, but he could overlook that, as long as he could know for sure that she had gone to bed with him out of love, and not for what she could get from him.

While Sean was lost in his anxious thoughts Matt sat down in the chair opposite him.

"How's it going, buddy?"

"Matt! Hey, glad you could make it," Sean responded just a shade too jovially. "What'll you have, your usual?"

"No, nothing for me, thanks," Matt said when Sean started to signal for the waiter. "I can't stay long. I want to get home to Claire. And anyway, it looks like we're in for more snow. I need to head out before the roads get too bad." Leaning back in his chair, Matt eyed Sean speculatively. "So, how's the campaign coming along?"

"So far, great. Jerry Calder's managing it for me. Of course, he was my second choice." A lopsided grin crooked one side of Sean's mouth as his eyes met Matt's. "But I knew better than to ask you. I figured once that baby gets here you're going to want to stay close to home."

"You figured right."

Sean's expression grew serious, and he looked down at the squat glass he was absently rotating. "And then there's this..."

"This thing between you and Joanna," Matt finished for him when he hesitated.

Sean's head jerked up, and he found himself pinned by his friend's keen blue gaze. "Yeah, there's that," he admitted grimly. Sean tossed back the last of his bourbon and set the glass down. Black eyes met blue ones in a long, searching look. "How is Joanna?"

Matt's impassive expression did not so much as flicker, and at that moment Sean recalled why he never played poker with the man. He stared back at Sean for what seemed like minutes. "Do you really want to know, or is that a polite question?"

"I want to know."

"All right then... she's miserable."

The quick flare of hope Sean could not hide brought a hint of a smile to Matt's mouth. "Look, I don't know what happened between you two on that cruise. I don't think I even want to know, but it's about time you patched this thing up. Because to tell you the truth, old friend, you don't look too hot, either."

"Do you think it's possible?"

"You won't know until you try, will you?" When Sean didn't answer, Matt gave an impatient sigh. "Look, Joanna is staying with us until after the baby is born. Why don't you come home with me for dinner and talk to her?"

It was tempting. Very tempting. Sean looked at his friend searchingly, torn between doubt and longing.

What if I'm just kidding myself? Seeing something because it's what I want to see?

Finally, a look of determination tightened his face. Pushing back his chair, Sean stood up and tossed some bills on the table. "Let's go."

* * *

"Matt's home," Claire announced as they saw the car headlights flash by and continue on to the barn.

Standing by the sink preparing a salad, Joanna looked up and had to suppress a grin when she saw the way her mother's face had lit up. Her amusement grew as she watched Claire quickly dry her hands, then fluff her curls and smooth imaginary wrinkles from her maternity smock before going to the back door to greet him. Shaking her head, Joanna returned her attention to the celery she was dicing. She'd never known two people that much in love.

Joanna heard the door open and felt the blast of frigid air against her back, but, discreetly, she didn't turn around.

Matt's "Hello, darling" was followed by a few seconds of heady silence that signaled a lingering kiss.

"Mmm. How's my favorite pregnant lady?" he asked finally in a caressing voice.

"Still pregnant."

"Good. Uh...as you can see, I brought company for dinner. You don't mind, do you?"

"I... why no. No, of course not." Claire rushed to assure him. "Uh... Joanna, darling, look who's here."

The note of uncertainty in her mother's voice, as much as the request, brought Joanna around to face them, but her smile of greeting froze and faded away when she spotted Sean.

He was standing beside Matt, watching her in that intent way of his, still and silent, waiting for her to say something. Joanna felt as though an iron fist had knocked all the wind from her body. Her eyes skittered to Matt. How could you? How
could
you, they asked silently. She had thought he cared about her. Didn't he know how much this would hurt?

Joanna felt panic welling up inside her like a geyser. She couldn't endure, an evening of polite conversation with Sean, act like he was no more than an old family friend. She couldn't.

With a silent plea, her gaze went to Claire. In her eyes Joanna saw compassion, in the regal lift of her head an unspoken call for courage. Joanna's jaw clenched and her hands curled into tight fists. Every muscle in her body quivered with the urge to flee, but from somewhere she found the strength to battle it down. Tilting her own chin in a way that unconsciously mirrored Claire's elegant dignity, she stepped forward and said calmly, "Hello, Sean."

"Joanna," he replied with a nod, still watching her with that disconcerting intensity.

Even in the midst of shock and panic, Joanna's mind registered a myriad of irrelevant details about him: his upturned overcoat collar, the tiny pieces of sleet peppered across his shoulders and in his blue-black hair, the look of fatigue around his eyes and the deeper lines that bracketed his mouth, the faint shadow of beard, the scent of cold winter night that clung to him. He looked tired, worried and unhappy. Even so, to Joanna's aching, lovelorn heart he looked wonderful.

More than anything, she wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she couldn't. Sean was lost to her. She had to accept that, and she would. Someday she would be able to look at him without feeling as though her heart had just been ripped from her chest. But not now. Not yet. It was too soon.

"Here, let me take your coats," Claire said, breaking into the tense silence. "While Joanna sets another place at the table you two go wash up. Dinner will be ready by the time you're finished."

For Joanna, sitting across the table from Sean was exquisite, excruciating torture. While the others talked she kept her eyes on her plate and moved the food around with her fork. Her stomach felt as though it were tied in a hard knot, and throughout the meal she only managed to choke down a half-dozen bites.

Sean regaled Matt and Claire with stories about the cruise, telling them about the people they'd met, the places and things they'd seen. With his teasing, devilish charm, he managed to make incidents that had been only mildly amusing sound hilariously funny. The others laughed uproariously, but every word tore at Joanna's heart and scraped her nerves raw.

Several times Sean tried to draw her into the conversation, but she spoke only when he asked her a direct question, and then she kept her replies as brief as possible. She could feel his gaze burning into her, but she refused to look at him. All she wanted was for the interminable evening to end, for a chance to escape to her room and cry.

To Joanna's vast relief, after the meal the men retired to the den, leaving her and Claire to deal with the dishes. Knowing that they would join them as soon as they were through, Joanna worked with meticulous care, drawing out the task as long as possible. When at last everything was put away and the dishwasher was chugging monotonously, she started to sweep the kitchen, but after only two swipes Claire took the broom from her.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said, giving her a mildly reproving look. "But, sweetheart, it's pointless. You can't hide in the kitchen forever."

Panicked defiance flared in Joanna's eyes for an instant, then faded as her shoulders dropped. "I don't want to go in there, Mother. I can't."

"Yes, you can, Joanna. I know it's hard, but it's something you must face and accept, because the problem isn't going to go away. Sean is a dear friend of ours. He has always been welcome in this house, and he always will be. Unless there's something you're not telling me." Claire cocked her head to one side and gave Joanna a long, thoughtful look. "Should we be angry with Sean? Has he done something unforgivable?"

"No, of course not." Pressing her lips together in a grim line, Joanna sighed her defeat. "And you're right. It's time to stop running away."

"That's my girl." Claire gave Joanna a quick hug, and with a hand at her back urged her toward the door. "Now, come on, we'll— Oh, my God!"

With the startled exclamation, Claire stopped in her tracks, and Joanna turned to find her staring straight ahead, her eyes wide with shock. As one, they both looked down at Claire's drenched slacks and the spreading puddle at her feet. When their eyes met again both women had paled. "My water," Claire said, in a faint, amazed tone. "Joanna, my water has broken."

At the words, Joanna's heart jerked. She looked around wildly for a second. Then she leaped forward to put a supporting arm around her mother and at the same time screamed for Matt at the top of her lungs.

Five seconds later he came barreling through the door with Sean at his heels. "What is it? What's the ma—"

He stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide with horror when they lit on Claire.