Torn (32 page)

Jake caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window glass and winced. He didn’t look much better. There was quite a scrape on his right cheekbone, and a bruise forming a swell above his left eye. And as he slowly crossed the room to sit next to the man who’d stolen his wife right out from under his nose, his bones creaked, then screamed in protest when he sat down. But he
felt
better, damn it.

Ah, nothing quite like a hit in the ribs… Unless it was several hits in the ribs. He glanced askance at Tyler. The next time Chelsea saw that man’s ribcage, it would be quite colorful as well. Jake sighed, then groaned. Chelsea. One look at that lovely nurse, and he’d completely forgotten about why he was here in the first place. Jesus, what a mess. Chelsea was right. About a lot more than he’d given her credit for.

Jake leaned back against the chair, tipped his head against the wall. “Then I
know
.”

Tyler leaned forward, his elbows supported by his knees. “Jake…”

“God!
What
?”

“How long have you known?”

Jake’s brows lowered and he looked over at the actor. A long silence filled the room, broken only by the background noise of doctors being paged, telephones ringing and being answered. Finally, he drew a breath and exhaled. “About the babies? Or that she was sleeping with you?”

Both men chewed on that for a while, then Jake spoke, his voice low. “The night she came home and had sex with me because she couldn’t make love with you.”

Eesh… Phrased like that?
Ouch
. Tyler winced. Aw man, that sucked. That had to hurt.

“I let her think what? That she was playing me for a fool? That I’m a sucker? That she wasn’t fucking you and having an affair, and then that she got
‘caught’
by getting pregnant? Because
she
knew too, you know! All this time, she knew those babies were yours –– not mine, and she never said a word!”

Both men stood and Nurse “Cratchet” raised a brow, but apparently knew better than to ask. This
was
Hollywood after all. “Your wife can see you now.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

J
ake and Tyler followed the nurse known as “Cratchet” to Chelsea’s room. As they traveled through the halls, a consistent chorus of gasps, twitters, complete with exclamations ––
Oh, my God! That’s Ty Benson!
–– followed them as well.

Jake, lips twitching, glanced at the actor to see how he was faring, but the other man appeared to carry the weight of fame well. He smiled back and said hello to those who greeted him, even shook a few hands. More than once, the trio stopped so Tyler could oblige a fan with his autograph.

After the third such occurrence, Nurse Johnston had enough. Due to the fact that her patient was pregnant –– with twins no less –– Chelsea Morgan had been placed in the maternity ward just in case complications arose. Normally, it took five minutes to get from the hospital admitting area to the maternity ward, which was on the opposite side of the hospital. The RN huffed as she looked at her watch. A good fifteen minutes had gone by, and they weren’t even halfway there.

One moment, Jake and Tyler strolled behind Nurse Johnston, and in the next, they practically ran after Drill Sergeant Cratchet. The next physician who approached the small, hurried entourage, barely escaped with her head. As Tyler watched her slink off –– stethoscope between her legs –– a sandy brow lifted, and he studied the flushed RN. He wondered if she would consider leaving her day job. With Jennifer on the rampage, he could use a scary-ass mother like her as a bodyguard.

Abruptly, the large woman stopped and Jake and Tyler almost plowed over her. She gestured to a closed door. “Your wife’s room.”

Both men nodded, and the muscular nurse blinked, shook her head. She gripped the steel clipboard firmly in her thick hands. “No upsetting my patient,” she growled, blue eyes stern as they regarded both men.

At their simultaneous nod, the nurse tilted her head, satisfied, turned on her white wedge heel, and left. The two men looked at each other in silence, then Jake stepped up to the door. He raised his hand to knock, then paused, looked back at Tyler, and stepped to the side. “After you.”

Tyler eyed Jake’s arm warily as it swept open in an accommodating gesture. “That’s all right.” He gestured with his own arm. “After you.”

Jake’s smile was sudden, saccharine, and did not reach his sky blue eyes. “No, please. I
insist.
” His pause was blatant, meaningful. “
Ladies
first.”

His lids lowered over his eyes and his brow furrowed deep as Tyler glared at Chelsea’s husband. Fists clenched at his sides, he took a step toward Jake, jaw tight. “Listen you sanctimonious prig ––“

“Tyler?” Chelsea’s voice was muffled but understood as it floated through the closed door. “Is that you?”

The eager inflection on his adversary’s name made Jake flinch. Shoulders slumped, he backed away from his aggressive stance, ran a long-fingered hand down his face and sighed. He looked at Tyler for a long moment without saying anything. The older man stared back. Finally, Jake’s shoulders rolled in a shrug. “She wants you. So go.”

“Jake…”

“It’s a bit late to start dusting off the old conscience, pal. Go on, Ty. What’s the hold up? It’s bad manners to keep a lady waiting.” Jake’s voice roughened and he practically shoved the other man into his wife’s room.

Tyler stepped back out, faced the other man and paused, his hand against the door. His gaze was steady and sincere. “Jake… For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

A muscle ticked in Jake’s temple. His acknowledgement, a curt nod to show that he understood that Tyler wasn’t apologizing for stealing his wife, but for the fact that Jake got hurt in the process, was level, and so was his reply. “At the moment, it ain’t worth dick, Benson.”

The man who possessed Chelsea Morgan’s heart inclined his head to the right, the soft light of apology crystallizing in his dark blue eyes. He started to open the door of Chelsea’s room, and Jake was treated to the look of sheer joy on his wife’s face when her eyes found Tyler’s.

Gut twisting, Jake watched Chelsea lift a hungry face to Tyler, her arms encircling the actor’s trim waist as he bent his head, her hands sliding up the smooth fabric to Tyler’s shoulders, pulling the older man closer. In response, Tyler’s large hands cupped Chelsea’s face, thumbs gently caressing the silky skin over her cheekbones. Jake couldn’t see the expression on the other man’s face, but his wife positively glowed, her dark brown eyes shining with devotion as they gazed upon Tyler. The actor bent further, and Jake caught what had to be a flash of tongue before the other man’s body blocked his view.

Jake stepped away from the threshold, his breath expelling in a slow exhale. He leaned back against the wall, lightly banged the back of his head against the painted, concrete surface. “Why am I still here?”

“Excuse me…?”

Startled, Jake jerked upright, and
really
whacked his head on the wall. “Ouch! Jesus Chris––“

A musical, sympathetic giggle cut short his tirade, and Jake opened his eyes to fall into a warm, hazel-green gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.”

It was her. The nurse from the fight. His throat suddenly dry, Jake forced himself to swallow, to speak. “That’s okay. I was just…”

The nurse shifted her slight weight, tucked the box she carried under her right arm. Her smile, shy at first, deepened. A dimple formed in her left cheek, under her eye. “Banging your head against the wall?”

Jake, almost against his will, felt his mind relax as his body responded to the young woman’s voice. His lips answered her smile with one of his own. “Yeah, something like that.”

The nurse shifted again, switched the box over to cradle in her other arm. She looked nervous and Jake wondered why. “I just couldn’t leave without asking you about your shirt. It’s very unusual. At least, it is around here,” she amended.
Glancing down, Jake lifted his arms, looked at the sleeves, the colorful, half-inch wide, ribbons of white and turquoise fluttered with the movement. “A good friend of mine made it for me.”

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen one in a long time.”

Jake tilted his head, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied the woman in front of him. She looked familiar, but he knew he’d never seen her before. He would have remembered her. Unexpectedly, he heard a voice ask, “Do I know you? Have we met?” And could have smacked himself when he realized it was his own.
God. She’s gonna think I’m feeding her a line.

“Well, I’ll be damned. That explains why you look so familiar to me –– I must have seen your picture on her wall. You look a lot like her.” Shaking his head in wonderment, Jake remembered his manners and held out his hand. “Jake Morgan.”

She looked at it, then bent to set the box she carried on the immaculate, beige linoleum floor. Her hand, warm and dry, slid into his grasp, and the hair on his neck stood up.

~*~

Chelsea watched the tall actor as he settled down on her bed and picked up her hand. Eyes still dreamy from his kiss, she looked at him, then blinked in surprise, and
really
looked at him. The gasp escaped her throat before she even realized that she’d taken a breath. “What happened to you!”

Tyler snorted, his fingers ginger as he touched his split lip for a moment before letting his hands fall to his sides. “Your husband. He has one hell of a left hook.”

Chelsea’s dark eyes widened as she rocked back into her pillows. “Jake?”

A sandy brow rose over Tyler’s right eye. “You have more than one?”

“You!” Acting before she thought, Chelsea whipped around to throw a pillow at her lover, then cried out in pain, her hands flying to her ribcage.

Instantly contrite, his lips pursed with worry, Tyler pulled away the blanket, checking for injury. Amused, Chelsea watched him, the pain subsiding on its own. “Like you’re a doctor.”

“Hey,” the actor protested, cobalt eyes twinkling, “I played one on T.V.”

Her lips stretched into a smile. “That’s right. Dr. Wilder on
General Hospital
. I remember.” She settled back against the pillows, and took his hand in hers. “They’re just bruised.”

“Just bruised,” he repeated, his eyes growing dark. “I could kill Jennifer.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

This time, it was his left brow that rose, stating clearly how well Tyler believed
that
statement.

“Why did you leave
General Hospital
?” Chelsea raised his hand to her lips, and kissed its palm, effectively erasing all thoughts of his ex-wife. “I missed having you in my living room.”

Tyler leaned closer, his pupils expanded until his eyes appeared black as they focused on the young pregnant woman. “Sweetheart, you can have me in your living room any time you want. Just say the word. I’m yours.”

He frowned, leaned in closer. “No, Chelsea. I want
you
. I want to be
your
husband. I want you to be
my
wife. I love your kids. I love our babies… I love you, Chels. I want you to marry me. Will you?”

“Jake…”

Arrrrrgh!
Tyler’s roar of frustration was silent, but expressed in a great sigh as he straightened, pulled his hands from hers, ran his fingers through his golden hair. He rolled his head back on his shoulders, shook it as he looked at the ceiling. “What! What about Jake? Jake knows! He knows how I feel about you. He knows I’m in love with you, that I’m the father of the babies you’re carrying. He knows. He beat the crap out of me. So what? What about Jake?”

Chelsea’s chocolate eyes narrowed, took in Tyler’s injuries. “You really got into a fight with my husband?” She sat up straighter in the hospital bed, brows low on her forehead. “Did you hurt him? Where is he?”