The Soldier's Baby Bargain (12 page)

“I can’t believe you did all this,” he repeated, looking almost grim. He plopped his large duffel bag on the bed and came toward her. “You shouldn’t have, Faith,” he admonished, looking all around the room again and then back at her. “I would have been happy sleeping on the couch. You didn’t have to redecorate a whole room.”

“It’s just new bedding and curtains.”

“And new lamps, and rugs...and was that painting there before?” he asked, referring to the framed Lake Michigan landscape.

“No,” she admitted, feeling uncomfortable under his blazing stare.

He muttered something under his breath and stepped closer. Her breath stuck in her lungs when he took her into his arms, making the action seem as natural as climbing into the pilot’s seat of an F-16.

“You shouldn’t have spent all that time and money on me,” he said quietly, his voice resonating above her forehead. She looked up slowly. It overwhelmed her a little—a lot—to feel his rock-hard body next to hers, to see his bold-featured, much-missed visage so close. “I’ll pay you back for everything you purchased.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I wanted to make it a nice place for you,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes caught in his steady stare.

“I missed you while I was gone,” he said.

“I...I missed you, too,” she admitted shakily. She ducked her head when he lowered his. She was sorely tempted to lift it again, to accept his kiss—to glory in it. Because there was little doubt, given the glint in his eyes and the rigid expression of his features, kissing her had been
precisely
what Ryan was about to do. She couldn’t allow their arrangement to derail from her planned course within three minutes of his arrival at the house.

“Why don’t you get unpacked, and I’ll go and get us some lemonade in the kitchen,” Faith said, backing out of his arms. Her false cheeriness stood in stark contrast to Ryan’s slanted brows and slightly irritated expression.

He entered the kitchen several minutes later. She glanced sideways at him as he bent to greet an ecstatic Topsy and ruffle the puppy’s coat.

“Look at you. You’ve grown, haven’t you, little girl?” he murmured, grinning.

It was an unusually warm spring day and he wore a short-sleeved white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. The shirt displayed his muscular arms ideally. Faith paused in the action of garnishing their drinks with lime slices.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” she said, eyeing the only partially revealed depiction of what appeared to be a bird with outstretched wings etched on steely biceps just beneath a white sleeve.

He stood, a darkly amused look on his face. “You haven’t given me the opportunity to show it to you yet.”

She blushed and busied herself putting away the ice-cube container. It was true what he’d said—they’d been so wild with lust on Christmas Eve, they hadn’t really had the opportunity for the niceties.

Like fully undressing, for instance.

What he’d said was also just a bit too
intimate,
given the comfortable, safe parameters she was trying to immediately establish in regard to their cohabitation.

“Ryan,” she began with forced calmness, handing him his lemonade, “if we’re going to make this work, we have to...respect each other’s boundaries.”

His dark brows lifted at her schoolmarm tone of voice. “I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I was just stating the truth,” he said, taking a sip of lemonade. She couldn’t help but grin when he made a sound of appreciation, then swallowed the contents of the glass in three large swigs.

“Sorry,” he said a moment later. “I was helping Scott move around some of his furniture, and it’s hot out today. I was thirstier than I thought, and it tasted great.”

“It’s nice out in the shade on the back terrace. Do you want to sit out there?” Faith asked, holding up the pitcher to refill his glass. She was a little alarmed by his level of familiarity—not to mention the heat of his stare. She thought it would be advisable to take the opportunity to rehash the “rules” of their arrangement before things slipped into foolish chaos.

He agreed about going to the terrace, and the three of them—Topsy, Ryan and Faith—retired to the back terrace.

“Everything’s blooming,” Ryan said as he sat down in a deck chair and surveyed the backyard. “Including you.”

Faith paused in the action of settling in the chair next to him. Her glance dropped to her belly. It was definitely protruding a little next to the fabric of the cotton shorts she wore. She’d originally thought the embroidered peasant blouse she wore to be a modest, yet feminine choice for Ryan’s arrival. Suddenly she wondered if instead of looking prim, she didn’t more resemble the busty serving wench on the side of a beer bottle.

She froze, her lemonade glass trembling in her hand, when he leaned over on his hip and matter-of-factly placed his hand on her belly. After a second she inhaled sharply, stunned by the weight of his hand on her rising abdomen.

“Have you really been feeling okay?” Ryan asked, his voice sounding husky and nearer than she expected.

She nodded, keeping her gaze aimed straight ahead. He’d called every few days during his absence and always asked her about her health.

“I talked to Mari yesterday. She told me that you were showing—a little tiny bit, anyway,” he said, shifting his hand upward. Prickles of pleasure went through her. Her breasts were growing so full that in her partially reclining position, his hand almost cradled them. “She said you two found a dress. For the wedding.”

“We did,” Faith said, trying to sound normal. She took a swig of her lemonade, feeling ridiculous doing something so mundane while Ryan touched her so intimately. She knew she should tell him to stop touching her, but she couldn’t help but feel it would draw attention to the significance of the contact...

...the
impact
it was having on her.

“I needed something new anyway. I’ve gone up a size, with the baby,” she explained, hoping he didn’t think she’d gone shopping like a breathless bride for her dream wedding dress. “Mari and I had a nice time, shopping together for it in downtown Holland. We went to lunch afterward.” She risked a sideways glance. His gaze was glued to her face, but his hand lowered over her belly, as if he were tracing the slight convexness. He was just eager to feel his growing child, that’s all. She tried like crazy to ignore the fireworks of sensation going off in her body as his hand reached the lower curve, his pinky resting at the top of her pelvis. A heavy, pleasant ache expanded at her core.

Focus,
she told herself.

“Your sister is such a wonderful person. I can’t wait to meet Marc,” Faith said in a pressured fashion, desperate to turn her attention away from Ryan’s stroking hand. “Are you close to Marc?” she asked in an odd, high-pitched voice as she blindly watched Topsy sink her sharp little teeth into a chew toy.

His deck chair squeaked next to her, and Faith realized he’d leaned closer. His hand moved yet again, the slight bump in her belly curving into his palm.

“We used to be best friends when we were kids,” Ryan murmured, sounding distracted. Faith nervously took a sip of lemonade as his hand slid up her abdomen. This time he went farther, the ridge of his forefinger grazing her lower breasts. “Before the accident his father caused, that is,” he added, moving his hand in a slight sawing motion, stimulating the sensitive skin of her ribs.

Faith stifled a choking sound. Her nipples drew tight against the clinging fabric of her bra.

“After the accident, Marc and I had a falling out,” Ryan continued quietly. Faith struggled to recall the topic. His hand lowered again, this time detailing the side of her abdomen, making it very difficult for her to breathe. “A pretty severe falling out, actually. It came to blows during the lawsuit hearings, I remember.”

“You two fought?” Faith asked, startled. She found herself examining his dark head and profile. He stared fixedly at his hand on her stomach. He nodded.

“Yeah. It almost came to blows again a few years ago when Mari got involved with him after all this time. They were teenage sweethearts, you know.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Then the accident happened. And the lawsuits,” Ryan said so grimly that she temporarily forgot her discomfort—and arousal—at his possessive caress. Compassion for him filled her. She touched a crisp, short sideburn and he tilted his head, spearing her with his stare.

“It must have been so hard for you all—that accident, the losses...everything that came after it.”

He said nothing, but his dark eyes spoke to her, nonetheless.

“Will it be difficult for you? To have Mari and Marc stand up for us when we get...married on Sunday?” she asked, fumbling and blushing at the mention of what they would be doing in three days time.

“No. It’ll be fine,” he said.

It suddenly struck her that they were touching each other very intimately and speaking in hushed tones. She’d called him out here to clarify the safe boundaries of their arrangement, and instead, Ryan’s touch had turned her into a quivering, aroused bundle of nerves.

She dropped her hand and looked away. Slowly, Ryan removed his hand. She could almost feel his disappointment.

Or was it disapproval?

“So we’re all set? For the wedding?” he said, the location of his voice informing her that he’d leaned back in his chair.

“Yes. Father Mike will meet all of us at the orchard,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact, even though she was breathless and she could still feel the imprint of his hand on her abdomen. “It was a wonderful idea that you had, having the ceremony at the McKinley Farm and Orchard. The trees will be in full bloom. It’ll be beautiful.”

“Marc and Mari actually suggested it. They introduced me to it—and the Cherry Pie Café—last year. The McKinleys are nice people.”

Faith smiled. She knew the orchard owners, Nathan and Clarisse McKinley, and had eaten several times at their delicious, lakeside restaurant on the grounds. It’d never occurred to her before how perfect the location would be for a spring wedding.

Not that this was a real wedding or anything,
she quickly reminded herself.

Ryan checked his watch. He cursed quietly and sat up with a start.

“What’s wrong?” Faith asked.

“I have to go. I have a flight. I’m taking a couple DuBois Enterprises executives from Chicago to New York.”

“Oh,” Faith said, taken aback. “I hadn’t realized you’d start working so soon.”

He grimaced slightly as he glanced at her and placed his long legs on either side of the lounge chair in preparation to stand. “You don’t mind, do you? I’ll be back by the time you wake up tomorrow. I was lucky to get a contract with DuBois. It’s going to keep me busy.
Extremely
busy. I should be able to buy another plane soon, with as much work as Deidre and Nick are willing to send my way. I want to build a lucrative business, Faith. For the baby. For the future,” he added, his dark eyes moving over her face.

“Of course,” she said, feeling embarrassed, all thoughts of her warm welcome dinner for him fizzling to mist. Had she sounded whiny because he was leaving so soon after his arrival? She hadn’t meant to. She admired him for working so hard to build up his company. “I’ll go in with you and give you the key to the front door.”

“Thanks.” He touched her cheek and gently tucked a curl behind her ear. Faith tried to ignore the tendril of pleasure that coiled down her neck at his touch, just like she tried to ignore the fact that she was disappointed he was leaving.

After Ryan had left for the airport, she wondered why the house felt so empty. It made no sense whatsoever. She’d lived alone there for over a year, and never felt lonely. Now Ryan had blown through her front door and flown off after just an hour, and the house already felt empty in his absence.

It worried her, how easily she could get used to his presence; how much she could come to count on it.

It meant she’d be all that much more disappointed when he was gone. How much more proof did she need than tonight, that a man like Ryan wasn’t meant to stay in one place for long?

No. That wasn’t going to happen, she told herself firmly as she started down the hallway. She wasn’t going to become dependent on his being there. Hadn’t she been happy and satisfied for almost her entire adult life by calling her own shots?

So if she was so confident that she didn’t need Ryan Itani one way or another, why did she pause outside his opened bedroom door? She hesitated, and then entered slowly. She stood at the mirrored chest of drawers and ran her fingers over a leather box, a bottle of his cologne and a handsome gold watch, dressier than the black casual one she’d seen on his wrist before he’d left.

He might be in his plane at this moment, preparing to fly away from Holland. But his things were here, hallmarks of his presence, reminders that even if it
was
temporary, for a period of time, this was Ryan’s home.

She tried to ignore the feeling of satisfaction that tore through her at the thought, but it was just as hard to banish as her other feelings were when it came to Ryan.

* * *

She saved the dinner she’d made, in case Ryan wanted it tomorrow. By the time she made herself a grilled cheese sandwich and ate, it was getting late. She had a seven o’clock appointment at the office, so decided to retire early. She made sure some fresh towels were laid out for Ryan in his bathroom—he might want to shower when he got home early in the morning.

Now that she was pregnant, sleep came almost immediately the second her cheek hit the pillow. It took a little longer tonight, as thoughts and worries about Ryan moving in and their upcoming marriage whirled around her consciousness. Still, she was fast asleep by the time her bedside clock dial turned to ten o’clock.

She awoke with a start in the middle of the night. She just lay there, her heart racing, trying to figure out what had startled her. There hadn’t been a noise, had there? It took her panicked brain several seconds to recall that it was probably Ryan returning home from his flight. She glanced at her clock. It read 4:35 a.m. She heard a tiny squeak from the hallway floor, as if someone was walking down it with caution.