Friends and Lovers (15 page)

She stared blankly at the new white curtains she’d just hung, and thought absently how pretty they looked and what a good thing it was that she’d had them packed away in the bedroom closet. Then she laughed at her own mundane musings. She was sitting there, unmarried, pregnant, alone in the world, and all she could think about was new curtains.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the cushions. Well, at least she knew now what was causing the nausea and faintness that had plagued her. Some virus!

A baby. She smiled to herself, thinking about little lacy things and someone to love, protect and take care of. A sweet-smelling, soft little child that would grow up…

She caught her breath. Now, that was a thought. What kind of future would a fatherless child have? Houston was no small town, but she was well known in it. She wasn’t going to be able to stay here. It wouldn’t be fair to the baby to let the stigma of illegitimacy be attached to it. Of course, she could go and propose marriage to Donald, she had a feeling he’d marry her in a minute—but that would hardly be fair. And if John found out she was pregnant…She laughed bitterly. He’d think it was Donald’s, that was what he’d think. He and Ellen hadn’t been able to have children, and she knew for a fact that John had always refused to have any tests done to find out whose fault that was. He had every reason in the world to believe he was sterile.

For just an instant she entertained the thought of telling him—but only for an instant. If he wouldn’t believe the truth about Donald, he certainly wasn’t going to believe that this child was his. And, too, she hadn’t the heart for another battle with him. He could hurt her too much. That was the problem with having friends turn into enemies: they knew where to hit and wound the most.

After a while, when the numbness and shock wore off, she made herself a cup of tea and started thinking about what she could do, where she could go. She had a maiden aunt in Georgia, in a little community outside Atlanta. If she invented a husband tragically killed…

She finished her tea and set the cup aside. Strangely, she found herself looking forward to the months of pregnancy. It didn’t occur to her to feel trapped by the impending certainty of motherhood, or to resent her baby. She smiled, thinking how nice it would be to have someone else around the house. Perhaps a little boy who’d look like his father; she could give him all the love that John Durango didn’t want. She’d name him Cameron, if he was a boy, she decided immediately. It was John’s middle name, and she liked the sound of it. And Edward, for her late father. Cameron Edward…Vigny. No, she couldn’t use her own maiden name, she’d have to invent one. She frowned. Well, time enough for that later. Right now, there was a chapter to start typing into manuscript.

She got up from the chair and started toward her desk when the doorbell rang. Oh, no, she thought, please don’t let it be Miss Rose with another hour of ferocious conversation about the noisy neighbors across the street.

She opened the door, expecting Miss Rose. What she found was John Durango, with a bouquet of dark red roses in one hand.

Chapter Nine

S
he stared up at him in shock, her body reacting as if she’d found the French Navy outside her door. Her mind automatically registered how handsome he looked in his blue blazer and white trousers with a white silk shirt open at the neck, and a creamy white Stetson atop his crisply waving hair.

“I had a long talk with my cousin,” he said after a minute, his face hard, his eyes narrowed and appraising as they studied her face. “He was right, you don’t look well at all.”

She felt herself stiffen.
Now
he decided to make up, when it was too late for them to have anything together; when she was pregnant and didn’t dare tell him for fear that he’d marry her out of a sense of obligation. Because he didn’t love her—he couldn’t after the way he’d treated her. Bitterness gathered in her throat, choking her.

“How nice of you to drop by, but the housewarming won’t be until 1995. I’ll be sure you get an invitation,” she added pleasantly, trying to close the door.

He got his shiny boot between it and the doorjamb and stopped her from closing it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in, even for old time’s sake?” he asked quietly, searching her face, her eyes, as if he was starving to death for the sight of her.

“No, I’m not,” she replied calmly. “Your foot seems to be in the way. Could you move it please?”

He grimaced, the mustache lifting and falling impatiently. “I didn’t mean what I had Josito tell you,” he said after a minute, in a curt, angered tone. He hated apologies, he never made them—this was as close as he was going to come, too.

“Didn’t you?” she asked, looking up at him for a moment with a world of sadness in her eyes.

His big hand contracted around the green paper that framed the dark red roses. “My God, what did you expect me to do, crawl on my knees—after you’d told me you were going straight from me to my cousin’s bed!”

“You might have believed in me,” she replied, her green eyes accusing. “From the very beginning, when you found me in the garage apartment, you thought the worst. You thought that I couldn’t wait to jump into bed with Donald. And that’s what I can’t forgive, John, that you didn’t trust me!”

“You don’t understand how it’s been between my cousin and me,” he ground out. “Not just recently, but for years now, and especially since Ellen died. He’s hated me for things I couldn’t help, that I had no control over. Neither one of us made any effort to straighten it all out, until this morning. He…told Josito he wanted to talk to me. I had him come over to the office, and we talked—about the past, and about you.” He drew in a deep, harsh breath. “He was worried about the way you look.”

“I’m just on my way in a few minutes to buy some more clothes and have my hair done,” she assured him.

“Not that!” he growled. “The way you look—pale as a ghost and—” he scowled “—different.”

Watch it, old girl, she schooled herself, don’t give the apples away. She tossed back her long, waving red gold hair, watching the way his eyes clung to it.

“I’m working against a deadline, and I haven’t had a lot of sleep,” she said quietly. “But I went to the doctor yesterday, and he says I’m in great shape.”

For a pregnant lady, she added silently.

He relaxed a little, but the frown still held his heavy brows together. “Are you sure he knew what he was doing?” he asked hesitantly.

“You must think so, you send your men to him,” she shot back. “Now, John, I’m very busy….”

“So am I, damn it, I’m supposed to be in a meeting with some sheik from Saudi Arabia right now about an oil lease!”

“Then don’t let me keep you,” she replied, trying again to close the door.

He looked as if he wanted to chew something—like tenpenny nails. “Will you listen!”

“Sure,” she replied. “The same way you listened when I tried to explain about Donald.”

“He told me all about that,” he said bitterly, “about what he said, and why. And about what you said to me at the charity ball,” he added, his eyes almost pleading—as if those silver fires could plead.

She flushed wildly, averting her eyes. “That’s all over now,” she said firmly, aching miserably inside. “It’s past history. Let’s just…let it go.”

“I can’t,” he said in a harsh note. “Don’t you understand that I can’t?”

She turned, glaring at him. “What did Donald tell you?” she asked, studying the pained look on his face. Was there any guilt mixed in, was that what caused that look in his eyes? He couldn’t possibly know about the baby, there was simply no way. So what was it?

“Will you at least take the roses?” he asked with cold dignity. “The damned things are giving me hay fever.”

“Certainly!” she replied. She took the roses from his hand and proceeded slowly and deliberately to crush the deep red heads against the front of his silk shirt.

***

She got up the next morning, took one of the nausea tablets the doctor had prescribed, and dressed in a loose blouse and a pair of unbuttoned slacks. She needed some looser clothes and that was going to be the first order of business today.

She wouldn’t buy maternity clothes. Not yet, not until she decided what cock-and-bull story she was going to hand her sweet but fluffy-minded aunt when she asked if she could come and live with her. What a blessing that she was successful enough not to have to hold down a daily job. Finances were the least of her worries.

She wanted some slacks with elastic waistbands, but amazingly enough she couldn’t find any. In desperation she went to the shopping mall near John’s office, hoping she wouldn’t run into him. That confrontation yesterday had nearly finished her; it had taken the better part of an hour for her to calm down.

In a small boutique, she found just what she was looking for. She bought four pairs of light-colored slacks two sizes larger than she usually wore, and two pretty, loose blouses to match them. Afterward, she went out onto the mall to sit down and catch her breath. She was so hot that she could barely breathe at all, and she was feeling sicker by the minute. She dropped her purse on purpose to give her an excuse to lower her head, hoping the faintness and nausea would pass. But they didn’t. It was only half a block or so to her car, but it might as well have been six miles for all the good that did her.

She would have given half a book’s royalties just for some ice or a wet cloth. Glancing around, she saw that all the nearby shops were dry goods places—not one of them a snack bar. Fate, she thought with bitter humor.

After a minute, she decided to try walking anyway. There was nothing else she could do except make the effort, or sit there all day.

Clutching her purse and the package, she got up from the bench and started in the direction of the mall exit. The walls seemed to swing crazily toward her, and the people began to blur. She saw a big, imposing man in a dark suit and a Stetson coming toward her, but his face didn’t register. Everything went a startling silver and black, and she felt herself crumpling….

***

She came to lying on a plush sofa, a totally alien ceiling swimming into focus above her head. She closed her eyes again, blinked, and took a deep breath. At least, thank goodness, the nausea had passed. She felt calm and quiet and not at all sick or faint. Her head turned, and she looked straight into John Durango’s fiercely worried eyes.

“Feeling better?” he asked with a cold smile.

She looked around. There were three strange men staring at her from the doorway while John sat beside her on the couch.

“Much, thank you,” she managed in a strained voice.

“Then would you mind telling me what the hell you were doing walking all over creation in this kind of heat and fainting in the mall?” he demanded curtly.

She glared at him, pulling herself into a sitting position. “I’m buying clothes, what does it look like?” she lashed out at him, pointing to the bag lying on the nearby coffee table. “And what business is it of yours where I faint? Do you own the mall?”

The men in the doorway were discreetly retreating, one pausing to close the door behind him.

“Would you like something cold to drink?” he asked after a minute, his concern getting the best of his temper. His eyes slid over her body, as if he was looking for a wound that might have brought her down. They were too well concealed beneath his lids for her to see the expression in them.

“I could do with a small Coke,” she admitted. The air-conditioning in the office felt good to her overheated skin.

“I’ll get you one.” He moved away, leaving her to look at her surroundings and get her wits back. It was a nice office, done in blues and grays, with plush furniture and a beautifully polished wood desk. Whoever had decorated it had good taste.

Only a minute later, John was back with a frosted can of Coke. He handed it to her, opened.

She took a long sip and smiled. “You’re a magician,” she murmured.

“I’m very definitely that,” he murmured with a strange, faint smile on his chiseled lips, a light in his steely eyes that was puzzling, exciting.

She ignored him, sipping the cold liquid until she felt sure that she wasn’t going to get sick or faint again.

“How about something to eat?” he asked. “What have you had today?”

“Some tea,” she murmured sheepishly.

“Idiot,” he grumbled, but there was the old tender concern in his voice. “Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.”

“It isn’t time,” she protested.

“I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“It’s past eleven.”

He cocked an eyebrow down at her. “Honey, if I want breakfast at midnight, I can get it. Would you like to make a bet?”

She smiled. It was the first time she’d smiled at him in ages. The effect it had on John was fascinating. He stared at her for so long that she dropped her eyes in shy confusion, her heart running wild.

“Coming, Satin?” he asked gently.

She reached down to get her purse and purchases, her heart rejoicing at the sound of the nickname. It was good to know that he wasn’t angry anymore. Even though she didn’t dare let things progress to the point they had before, perhaps they could be friends again…at least until she moved away. That would be a little bit of heaven to take with her.

They had bacon and eggs at one of the restaurants on the mall, astonishing the early lunch crowd.

“I know the chef,” he murmured, his mustache curling under a grin as he polished off the last piece of toast and sat back to sip his coffee.

“I’m glad you do,” she sighed, stuffed. “I can’t remember being so hungry.”

He chuckled, his face relaxed, his eyes faintly amused, tender as they swept over her. “Have enough?”

“More than enough, thanks.” She smiled, glancing at the empty plate.

“Eggs are good for you if you’re prone to fainting. Lots of protein. Steak isn’t bad, either.” He cocked his head. “How about one tonight?”

She stiffened, her eyes wary as they met his, the fear in them evident. “I don’t know….”

He leaned forward, his face quiet, caring. “Honey, I won’t try to take you to bed again,” he said softly. “I promise you that. I won’t even touch you if you don’t want me to.”