To Love a Man (39 page)

“Shouldn’t you be sitting down?” he asked, completely changing the subject as it occurred to him that she had been on her feet ever since he had entered her apartment.

“I’m not ill, I’m pregnant,” she answered evenly. “A perfectly natural state. And I think you should remember that I’ve gotten this far without your solicitude, so there’s no need for you to start acting like an anxious father-to-be at this juncture. Too little and too late, Sam.” Her tone as she finished was faintly mocking.

“Sit down.” This time it was an order.

Looking up at him, Lisa recognized the steely-eyed man who had ruthlessly bent her to his will out in the Rhodesian bush. Only this time they weren’t in Rhodesia—and she would be damned if she would meekly obey! She didn’t deign to answer, just folded her arms over her breasts and eyed him with her head tilted slightly to one side as she remained on her feet. For a moment, as his eyes flickered, she thought he might mean physically to enforce his command. Then his mouth softened, even smiled at her a tad ruefully.

“Lisa, honey, if I’d known you were pregnant I would have come right away,” he said in as gentle a voice as she had yet heard from him. He made as if to come toward her, enfold her in his arms.

She held him off with an upraised hand. “You don’t understand, do you?” The words were cool, the expression in her eyes remote. “I never doubted that you would come back—and offer to marry me—if you knew I was pregnant. But I don’t want to get married for a reason like that. It’s not a very sound basis for a lifelong commitment. I’ve lived through one bad marriage, and so have you. I’m not going to make another mistake like that.”

“I came here today to ask you to marry me,” he said, regarding her steadily. He stood perhaps five feet away, his arms folded over his broad chest, his rough black hair tumbling in a heat-induced wave over the bronzed skin of his forehead.

Despite herself, Lisa was conscious of a faint, niggling urge to throw herself into his arms, to be sheltered and protected, to be loved. Then she reminded herself that he didn’t love her—at least, not enough to marry her in the teeth of all the potential problems her money and their disparate social positions might bring. Not enough to marry her at all—without her pregnancy to force his hand.

“I hadn’t the faintest notion that you were pregnant until you opened the door, Lisa,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “But I came back for you anyway. Because I realized that I love you. Baby or no baby, I want you for my wife.”

Lisa stared at him. She was tempted—oh, so tempted!—to take him at his word. To marry him. It was what she wanted, had wanted all along. But if he didn’t really want her—if he was just marrying her because of the baby—she wouldn’t be able to stand it. She had had her heart broken twice already, first by Jeff, then by Jennifer. She was afraid that a third time would wound her past bearing. And she had trusted Sam once, loved him unreservedly, offered herself to him without any holding back. And he had sent her away. It seemed almost unbelievable that now, when she was expecting his child, after months without a word, he had turned up out of the blue, asking her to marry him.

“Has Amos been in touch with you?” she asked, trying but not quite succeeding in keeping the suspicion that had suddenly occurred to her out of her voice.

He eyed her. “No,” he said. “I haven’t heard from Amos in months.”

“How did you know where I lived?”

“I stopped by the house—I thought you were still living there. Henry Dobson gave me your address. I don’t even think Amos was there. If he had been, I’m sure he would have had a few things to say to me.” A wry smile twisted his mouth. “What does he think about this,” he nodded at her belly, “by the way?”

“Oh, he’s horrified,” she said with a grimace. “Although he’s trying his best to hide it. To his way of thinking, ‘nice girls’ don’t get themselves in situations like this. At first, he naturally assumed that you and I would be getting married, so that made it a little better. Then when I told him that we weren’t, I was afraid for a moment that he would pass out. He wanted to go to the Circle C to drag you back here and make you marry me, whether you wanted to or not. But I told him that if he interfered in this, I’d never forgive him. And he saw that I meant it. Since then he’s been very good about the whole thing—I think.” The last two words were muttered under her breath as she eyed Sam speculatively. It was just too much of a coincidence that he had turned up like this . . . wanting to marry her. She could not shake the feeling that he must have known about the baby.

“I swear I haven’t talked to Amos,” Sam said. His blue eyes met hers without any hint of evasion.

Maybe he was telling the truth, Lisa thought, suddenly wanting fiercely to believe it. Then her common sense reasserted itself.

“Marry me, Lisa,” Sam repeated quietly.

He was still standing some five feet away, his arms crossed over his chest, the setting sun sending orange-gold rays through the big picture window behind him to paint a bright aureole around his dark head. His face was shadowed in contrast, but Lisa felt the intensity of his gaze on her. Once again she had to fight the urge to cross the small space that separated them and throw herself into his arms. But no—there was too much at stake, for the child that was even now twisting inside her as well as for herself. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake again. This time, before she committed herself to love, she had to be sure.

“I told you, Sam, no.” Her arms came up to hug her stomach, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. His eyes followed every movement she made. “At least—I have to think about it. This child will be better off without any father at all than with a father who resents him, or with parents who are constantly at each other’s throats. Before, when it was just you and me, it didn’t matter so much. If it didn’t work out, we could have gotten a divorce, and we would have been the only ones hurt. Now—now everything is so much more complicated. I would find it hard to divorce the father of my child.”

“There wouldn’t be a divorce. I love you, Lisa.”

She smiled, almost bitterly. “Do you, Sam? You said that before—and then you left. What about the money? I’m still rich, Sam, and you’re not. When is that going to start bothering you again?”

He turned away from her to take a quick, angry turn about the room. Finally he stopped by the darkening window and turned to face her, his hands behind his back gripping the carved-oak sill.

“During the last few months, I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter,” he said, the words quiet. “The money’s yours. I won’t touch it—but you can use it, if you want. To buy clothes and personal things for yourself—and the baby.”

“That’s quite a switch.”

She was mocking him, her head tilted to one side. In the deepening gloom, she was a faint pale blur with her ivory skin and silver-gilt hair. Her eyes and the expression on her face were hidden from him by the shadows.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. And I came to the conclusion that you’re what’s important—you and what we have together. Nothing else matters, compared to that.”

At his words, Lisa felt a little flame begin to flicker and grow inside her, melting the block of ice that her heart seemed to have been encased in since Sam had thrown her off the ranch—and she had found out about the baby. He sounded almost humble, as if he was pleading with her to give him a chance. Not at all like the arrogant, authoritative soldier she had come to know. He sounded sincere—and, she thought, maybe he was. At this moment. But what would it be like when they had been married six months, a year, five years? Would the money prove an impossible stumbling block between them? Before, she had been willing to take that chance. Now, she had to be sure—because of the baby.

“Well?” His tone told her clearly that he was getting impatient with her continuing silent regard. It also told her that he expected only one answer.

“I have to think about this, Sam. It’s not something I can decide right now, on the spur of the moment. You’ll have to give me time.”

“Goddamm it!” The oath ripped out of his mouth, cutting through the gloom like a knife.

Lisa’s head came up, and she regarded him warily as he turned with quick, efficient movements to draw the drapes across the now-darkened window and flick on the pair of china lamps flanking the sofa. When the room was bathed in a soft, golden pool of light, he crossed to her, putting his hands on her upper arms and holding her when she would have pulled away. She felt the touch of his long, strong fingers gripping her bare skin all the way down to her toes. It had been months since she had felt anything sexual, months since she had even allowed herself to think of her body as anything except the vessel carrying her child, and the sudden rush of desire from nothing more than the touch of his hands startled her like an electric shock. She tried to draw away, but he held her, not hurting, but inescapable.

“How long are you planning to keep up this nonsense?” His words were clipped. The deep blaze in his eyes told her that he was suddenly very angry.

“As long as it takes for me to be sure—and it’s not nonsense.”

His anger ripped away the veil that had shrouded her own over the last, miserable months. Her eyes met his defiantly, a clash of blazing emeralds and sapphires. Most women—indeed, most men—Lisa thought as she stared up into the fiercely carved face intent on bending her to his will, would have been frightened if Sam had turned such a glare on them. She was not—she knew him too well, and the stakes were too high.

“And that’s your last word on the subject?”

From the whitening of the deep grooves at the sides of his mouth, she could tell that he was keeping a tight rein on his temper. His hands on her arms had tightened just a little, so that she felt his fingers digging into her flesh. Still, she felt no pain. Instead, she was conscious of an odd feeling surging through her veins. A feeling almost of exhilaration, as if her blood had been frozen for centuries and was just now beginning to melt. In love or in anger, Lisa realized, Sam made her come alive.

“Until I’ve had time to think about it, yes.”

His hands tightened even more, then they released her, dropping to his sides abruptly as he swung away. Lisa gaped after him as he strode toward the door.

“You’re not leaving?” The words were surprised out of her.

“Yes, I am. Isn’t that what you wanted?” His voice was tight, angry. His stride didn’t slacken until he had the door open. Then he turned back to face her.

Lisa blinked at him. Knowing Sam, she hadn’t expected him to concede so rapidly, at least not without one heck of a fight.

“Well, isn’t it?” he demanded.

“Yes.” There wasn’t much else she could say.

“Right.” The single word was clipped. “I’ll be in touch.”

Then he swung on his heel and walked through the door, pulling it shut behind him. Lisa was left gaping after him, her thoughts in such turmoil that it was some minutes before she remembered to cross the room and lock the door.

XIX

H
E
was waiting for her when she left work the next day, his car parked illegally in front of the building that housed the magazine’s offices, himself dressed casually in jeans and a crew-neck yellow T-shirt. He was leaning against the closed car door, his arms, bronzed and hair-roughened, crossed over his chest, the afternoon sun glinting off his wavy black hair. The snug-fitting jeans showed off his narrow hips and long legs, while the soft cotton of the T-shirt emphasized the powerful muscles of his upper arms and shoulders. When he saw her walking toward him, he straightened away from the car, his arms dropping to his sides, and smiled. His mouth curved up lopsidedly, making deep gashes appear in his tanned cheeks; those blue eyes watched her with an expression that should have been outlawed for the effect it had on her. Lisa eyed him warily. With her heart doing flipflops the way it was at the mere sight of him, it would be all too easy to give in and agree to marry him without more ado. And she still wasn’t sure whether that was the best thing to do. For any of the three of them.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded as she got close enough, hoping that her severe tone would disguise the way her heart had leaped at the sight of him.

His curious, twisted smile deepened. “I thought I’d take you out to dinner,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be waiting for her. “Okay?”

He was impossibly handsome, standing there watching her with those blue eyes while he held open the passenger-side for her. Lisa noticed several of the women with whom she worked giving him interested looks as they walked past on the way to the parking lot, then looking at her with a combination of speculation and envy. Tomorrow she would be in for countless curious questions. . . .

“I have my car,” she said, wavering. Suddenly she knew that she really wanted to go with him, wanted to be with him. She had missed him more than she had let herself admit over the last months; now she felt like a flower left too long in the sun that at last senses the promise of rain.

“No problem. I’ll bring you back here afterward and you can pick it up. Or I can drive you to work in the morning.”

She looked at him sharply. “If I go to dinner with you, you won’t be spending the night, Sam.”

He grinned at her. “What a suspicious mind you have! All I meant was that I’d be glad to stop by your apartment in the morning and pick you up. Nothing to get excited about.”

“I prefer to come back for my car.”

“Anything you say. Are you going to get in or not? I’m starting to feel pretty silly, standing here holding the car door open while you eye me like I’m a cross between Jack the Ripper and Bruno Hauptmann.”

Lisa had to chuckle at that. And, chuckling, she got into the car.

“How did you know where I work?” she asked as he slid behind the steering wheel and switched on the ignition. The motor turned over, and then he was expertly maneuvering them out into the streaming traffic.

“Amos,” he said briefly, not taking his eyes off the road.