Caroselli's Accidental Heir (10 page)

“A busy one.”

“He left a message. I’m afraid to listen to it.”

Tony walked over to her, hand out. “Give me the phone. I’ll listen to it.”

She dialed her voice mail and handed him the phone.

Tony listened for what couldn’t have been more than ten seconds. “He left his cell number. Said to call when it was convenient. At any time.”

Uh-oh. “How many doctors do that? And on a Friday night, no less.”

He handed back her phone and sat down next to her, sliding his arm around her shoulder. “That doesn’t mean it’s bad news.”

She put the phone on speaker then dialed the number.

Dr. Hannan answered after only two rings. “Good evening, Lucy.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Caller ID.”

Of course. Duh.

“Everything is fine,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You and the baby. You’re both fine.”

Oh, thank God
. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“Absolutely. The baby is small but healthy.”

She was so relieved she could have sobbed. “Does this mean no more staying off my feet?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go training for a marathon, but you can resume your normal activities. I’ll see you in a month. If there’s a problem before then, call the office.”

“Okay. And thank you, Dr. Hannan.”

“Good night Lucy.”

She ended the call, looked up at Tony and promptly burst into tears.

Twice in one day? Really? What the heck was the matter with her?

Tony put his arms around her and she clung to him, soaking the front of his shirt with her tears, as he murmured reassurances, told her everything was going to be okay now. She desperately wanted it to be true. Yet she couldn’t shake this impending sense of doom. Was this all just a little too good to be true? Was she going to wake up back at her mom’s in Florida and realize it was all just a dream?

The outburst was blessedly short-lived, and when the tears finally stopped, Tony gave her a tissue and said, “Feel better?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Sorry. Guess I was a little stressed out.”

He kissed her forehead, his stubble rough against her skin. “Everything is okay. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

This time,
she wanted to say. So many things could still go wrong.

Tony cradled her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, which she was sure were watery and bloodshot. “Marry me,” he said. “Don’t even think about it. Just say yes.”

The word balanced on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to so badly, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want a marriage of convenience.

“Lucy?”

There was something in his eyes this time, a look that, if she didn’t know better, she might have mistaken for love.

Her mind was playing tricks on her again. She was seeing what she wanted to see. “I know you think it’s what’s best for the baby—”

“Maybe it’s what’s best for me.”

Well, obviously. Wasn’t that why he kept asking her?

He realized what he said, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was, it would be best for
us.
All three of us.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to say. “But, technically, there is no
us.
Not beyond us being friends.”

“Do you ever think that maybe there should be?”

More times than she could count. But not for the reason he was probably thinking. “I can’t.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “You mean you won’t.”

Six of one, half a dozen of the other. “Can’t...
won’t.
What’s the difference?”

“I can’t accept that,” he said.

He didn’t have a choice.

“There has to be a way to convince you that this is the right thing to do. Just tell me what to say, what to do. What do you want?”

Tell me you love me and that you can’t live without me,
she wanted to say. Even if it wasn’t true. She would probably say yes.

And if she did, she would be living a lie.

“You make me crazy,” Tony said, pressing his forehead to hers. “If you could just...”

“Just what?” Compromise her principles? Her dignity?

He growled in frustration and pushed up off the bed, started pacing the floor like a caged animal. What had gotten his panties in such a twist?

“Look,” she said. “I know you’re probably used to getting what you want, but—”

He swiveled to face her. “Are you
kidding
me?”

She drew back at his sharp tone.

“When have I ever gotten what
I
want?”

She had no idea how to answer that, though she had the feeling it was a rhetorical question.

“I’ve stayed in a job, and a career, that I’ve grown to despise, because it’s the right thing to do for the family.” His tone grew more indignant with every word. “I have always done what I’m supposed to. And what has it gotten me? I can’t even get the woman I love to marry me. So tell me again, how is it that I’m used to getting what I want?”

He’d lost her at
love.
She could hear him talking still, see his lips moving and hear the words, but the meaning wasn’t getting through.

She cut him off midsentence. “What did you say?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his brow furrowing. “Which part?”

“When you said you love me.”

He closed his eyes and cursed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

He was
sorry?

“No,” he said. “Screw that. I’m
not
sorry. I know it will probably only drive you farther away, but Lucy, I love you.”

And
why
would that drive her away? She opened her mouth to respond but he kept going.

“I know that’s probably the last thing you want to hear right now,” he said.

The last thing? Really?

“For what it’s worth, I did try to fight it. For your sake.”

For
her
sake?

“And in the spirit of total honesty—”

“Tony!”

“What?”

“Shut up already,” she said, and before he could say another word, she kissed him.

Nine

L
ucy wasn’t sure how she wound up on her back on the bed. Or how Tony managed to get their clothes off so fast. But damn, he sure did move quickly.

His scent, the flavor of his mouth, the rasp of his beard stubble against her skin were all so familiar, so Tony, yet this was as thrilling and exciting as the first time. She let her lids fall and felt the gentle sweep of his lips over hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, gazing at her as if her skinny frame was a work of art. He trailed kisses across skin, kisses so steamy she could feel herself melting, sinking under. “Promise me you’ll wear that dress again.”

“What dress?” She ran her hands across his thick shoulders, urging him closer, but it was like trying to move a brick wall.

“The one you were wearing tonight,” he said, running a hand up her thigh. “I like that it’s soft and slippery....”

She gasped as he slipped his fingers inside of her and with a wicked smile said, “Just like you.”

He stroked her, his touch unhurried and sweet one minute, and shockingly intimate the next, bringing her closer and closer to bliss. He kissed his way down, spreading her thighs apart, tasting her there, too. Sparks of desire popped and crackled, igniting her blood, and his breath on her skin worked like a soft breeze to fan the flames. He kissed and touched, murmuring sexy words that seemed to blend together and muddle up in her brain until they sounded like nonsense.

She threaded her fingers behind his neck, pulling him to her, his warm weight sinking her into the mattress. Every part of him felt warm and strong and solid. A shaft of moonlight from the bedroom window poured over him, accentuating every inch of his beautifully defined chest, his wide, solid shoulders and sinewy arms. He laced his fingers through hers, pinning her hands above her head. Then he rocked his hips just so, eased himself inside her with one long, slow, stroke....

Yes.

He gazed down at her, his eyes glassy and unfocussed, and said,
“Lucy.”

That alone nearly did her in. She was teetering on the edge of a cataclysmic explosion, the sparks snapping and sizzling, drawing ever closer to the end of her fuse.

He kissed her, a deep soul-searching kiss, while he tortured her with small thrusts of his hips. She clung to him, sinking her nails into his shoulders, his backside, her body arching with impatience. She’d never felt so out of control, so swept away with lust.

Tony muttered something unintelligible, then his grip on her hands tightened as every part of him began to tense. He thrust harder, taking Lucy to an entirely new level of ecstasy as the current pulled her under. Her own strangled moan was all she could hear, all she could comprehend, as the pleasure crashed down and dragged her under. Excruciating and perfect.

They were both breathing hard as Tony settled down beside her. She couldn’t be one hundred percent positive, but she was pretty sure that pregnant sex was different from regular sex. It felt more...
passionate.
More intense.

Could that be what was causing her to feel even more confused, more unsure of herself, than ever?

This should be the happiest day in her life. Tony loved her and wanted to marry her and they were having a healthy baby. His family liked her and she liked them. She was getting everything she had ever wished for. She was supposed to feel happy. So, why did she still feel like a fraud?

Tony unwittingly gave her the answer. He curled up close, laying his head beside hers on the pillow. “I love you, Lucy.”

He loved her? How could he, when he didn’t even
know
her?

It seemed as though, when she fixed one disaster, another immediately cropped up in its place. When did it end? She must have made at least a few decent choices in her life. When did those start paying off? Or didn’t it work that way?

She wanted him so much, wanted this. But not this way. Not knowing that at any moment something could come out about her past and he would never feel the same about her. He needed to know who and what she was. The good
and
the bad stuff. Luckily for her, this was an easy one to fix. All she had to do was tell him the truth. All of it. Then if he still wanted her, she would know she’d covered all her bases.

And after all this time of smothering the truth, of hiding it away, it would feel good to have it out there. To know that at least someone else out there knew.

“I wasn’t completely honest with you about why I moved to Florida,” she said.

He lay still beside her, listening.

Her heart started to beat faster and her hands were trembling.
Come on, Lucy, just say it.

This truth thing was harder than she thought it would be. If she stopped for just ten seconds and let herself consider all the consequences...

Nope, bad idea. No more stalling or beating around the bush. She started this thing, now she was going to end it.

“Part of the reason I left, is because I was hoping you would come after me.”

No reaction.

“Because...well...I guess because I fell in love with you and I was too afraid to tell you. I knew you were relationship-shy and, surprise, so am I. If you came after me, I would know you loved me. That’s why I didn’t tell you about the baby. I knew you would want to do the right thing, and it would have been too hard being married to a man who didn’t love me.”

She paused, expecting him to say something, then from beside her she heard a soft snore. Oh, no, he didn’t...

She lifted up so she could see his face.

He was sound asleep.

* * *

Tony woke Saturday morning at ten-thirty, after the best night’s sleep he’d had in a week.

Wow. Had it really only been a week? So much had happened since then. But last night had been a breakthrough in their relationship. Maybe the hard part was over now, and all they had to do was move forward. Start over in a sense.

He threw on his robe and went looking for Lucy, but all he found was a handwritten note placed on his laptop, which frankly scared the hell out of him. Maybe sleeping with her had been a bad idea. Had last night freaked her out so badly it sent her running back to Florida? He unfolded the note and started to read it.

Dear Tony,

I DID NOT leave you. Just thought I would get that out of the way, since that was probably the first thing you thought of when you saw my note.

He shook his head and smiled. She knew him too well.

I’m with your mom. I called her this morning to let her know that everything is okay with the baby and she insisted we go shopping.

You passed out on me last night, so I never got to tell you how nice it was. Better than nice. I’m really glad we’re back to that place.

Him, too. But...

Okay, so this is the part where I get serious.

Uh-oh.

I love you. And I know that you think you love me, but you can’t really, because I’m not the woman you think I am. That probably doesn’t make much sense, but it will. We have a lot to talk about. But first I need you to do me a favor. Do you remember me telling you about my journal?

Of course he did. It had been a school project that just kept going. She would sometimes pull out her laptop and write in it when she was hanging out at his place.

I never thought I would hear myself say this to anyone, but I want you to read it. I’ll warn you that it’s very long and you’re going to read a whole bunch of stuff you wished you never knew. I’m sorry about that. But you NEED to know. If after you read the ENTIRE thing, you still want me (and I will totally understand if you don’t) my answer is yes, I would love to marry you.

I sent you an email link to the site and included my user name and password.

Love,

Lucy

Stunned, Tony set the letter down and for several minutes he just stood there, digesting it, looking at his closed laptop, almost afraid to open it. She’d have to do something pretty awful to make him not love her. He was sure that she was exaggerating....

But what if she wasn’t?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

He fixed himself a strong cup of black coffee then sat at the table and opened his computer. Her email was waiting for him, with all the required information, so with growing trepidation, he logged in, half hoping that by some fluke it would deny him access. But up popped her account.

It was sorted by year, going back to when she was eleven years old. The most recent entry had been created this morning at 5:40 a.m. He resisted the urge to skip to the end and read the current stuff first, since it was probably the most relevant, and started at the very beginning.

The first few months had him yawning. It was the usual preteen type stuff. What any girl would write in her journal.

He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was wasting his time, and Lucy had some repressed, deep-seated flair for the dramatic that was just now emerging.

Then the school project ended, and with it disappeared that ideal, candy-coated world she had created. The first non-school post began, “Evicted again. Came home from school and all my stuff was in the Dumpster.”

It went downhill from there.

After reading two more weeks’ worth of entries, a knot began to grow in his gut. Two weeks more and he felt like vomiting. By the time he made it through the first year, he was seriously thinking of taking out a contract on Lucy’s waste-of-a-life mom, who wasn’t doing anyone any favors by being alive. He was Italian. He knew people who knew people.

He kept telling himself that it couldn’t get any worse, but it always did. Thirteen-year-old girls wrote in their journal about the latest teen pop star or the boy they want to kiss. They did not write about their mom’s
friend
copping a feel when her back was turned. Or waking in the middle of the night to find a different man snapping pictures of her while she was sleeping.

There were stupid people who didn’t know any better, and bad people who knew and didn’t care, then there were people like Lucy’s mom, the kind who fed off other people’s pain.

He’d taken a couple of psychology courses in college and he recognized the characteristics of a sociopath when he saw them. No one with a conscience would treat their child the way Lucy’s mom had treated her.

Pure evil. That’s what she was.

He thought of all the times he’d complained to Lucy about his family and felt utterly disgusted with himself. His childhood—his entire life—had been a freaking utopia compared to what she had been through.

She’d left home at seventeen and moved in with a friend. She’d been so full of hope that things could finally be better. But it wasn’t long before the friend got a little too friendly one night, and when Lucy wasn’t cooperative, she was out on the street. She seemed to drift through the next few years, moving around a lot, making new friends but never really connecting.

Heartbreaking. It was the only way to describe her life. Every time something good happened, five other things would blow up in her face. It seemed as though bad karma had taken a hold of her and wouldn’t let go.

Then she’d met Tony.

Though it had been more than a year, the memory of that night, of seeing her behind the bar that first time, was scored in his memory.

Refreshing, that had been his first impression. She was young and vibrant and so pretty in her own natural way that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. Apparently the feeling was mutual. A surprise to him considering they barely spoke the first half dozen times he came in. But according to her journal, it wasn’t for a lack of interest. The way she told it, he was some sort of Greek god or something. She’d written one entire freaking page about his eyes.
Just
his eyes.

She’d done an amazing job of hiding it because he’d never had a clue. And when he’d asked her out, she’d told him she didn’t date customers. The journal told a different story, that she thought he was too handsome and too nice, and therefore too good to be true. But gradually, over the next few weeks, he’d worn her down. That was the time when the tone of the journal really changed.

It was a bit like watching a flower unfold on time-lapse film. She’d gradually begun to open up, to trust him. To fall in love. She’d given him a gift. A window into her soul. And she was right. He would never look at her, or himself for that matter, the same way again.

Seeing himself through someone else’s point of view was intriguing and frightening, and brutally painful. But mostly just painful. A year of therapy couldn’t compare to this slap-in-the-face, deal-with-it approach.

He considered it a miracle that after everything she had been through, all the hurt and the lies and the broken promises, she had opened up to him. She’d trusted
him.

The responsibility of that knowledge was beyond overwhelming, and he was nearly 100 percent sure he hadn’t deserved it, but he would never take trust for granted as long as he lived.

He heard a key in the lock, and looked up from the computer, his vision fuzzy from too much time reading the journal, to see the front door open. It was Lucy, her hair mussed from the wind. He was happy to see that his mother was not with her.

She stopped short when she saw him, looking surprised. “Are you sick?”

Did he look sick? “No, why?”

“It’s six and you’re still in your pajamas.”

That meant he’d been sitting there riveted for almost seven hours. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, or for that matter lunch. He hadn’t even gotten up to use the bathroom. “I’ve been reading.”

She blinked. “Oh...good.”

Why did she not seem so sure of that? “That was a long shopping trip. Where’s all the stuff?”

“Neither of us had the energy left to carry everything upstairs.” She shrugged out of her jacket. “She said we can come by for dinner tomorrow and pick everything up. Except of course all the stuff that’s being delivered.”

Delivered?

“She bought furniture,” Lucy said, looking pained. “I resisted, but there was nothing I could say to stop her.” She paused, chewing her lower lip, facing him, but not actually looking at him. “So, how much did you read?”