Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (16 page)

"Why didn't you tell me that to begin with? I would have married you in Denver and in name only if I'd known."

"Why? I didn't want you to feel sorry for me. I can take your anger, Faith, but never your pity. It's too much of an affront to my pride. And once you were here, it didn't take long for me to realize giving you my name wouldn't be nearly enough."

She slid her hands into his hair, urging his mouth to come a whisper away from hers.

"You once said having to prove you're strong all the time is a weakness in itself. I think this just proves your point. You're the most virile man I've ever known, Myles Wellington. Physically, yes, but in every other way too. I could never pity you. Just as I couldn't bear your keeping such a sensitive part of your life shuttered away from me. I want all of you. Every thought. Every emotion." She traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. "Every fantasy."

They met, mouth-to-mouth. He poured all his bitterness and need and liberated release into the urgency of their healing kiss.

Faith undid his pants as they kissed, stroking him, charging him with familiar passion. He rolled her to her side and entered her from behind, their hips moving in perfect sync. His hands glided over her, knowing exactly how to please her, caressing just the right places to bring her to the peak.

He poured himself into her, giving up the last remnants of his childhood exile with a groan that rolled up from the hidden places of his soul.

He exulted in the instinctive knowledge that she cherished even his darkness, and he emerged with a feeling that was wondrous and new.

* * *

"And this is Jennifer, my best friend, from Denver, who was my maid of honor." Faith handed the glossy to Carol to add to the growing stack. "A friend of Myles's took the pictures. We liked the idea of having the personal touch. It seemed appropriate, since it was such a small wedding."

"Small but beautiful," Carol said with approval. "I'm so sentimental, I could practically cry just looking at these. Larry's always embarrassed to go to weddings with me. I even got teary-eyed watching Charles and Di on TV."

Looking away from Carol, who continued to pour over the photos, Faith smiled at Myles sitting beside her. The small space between them filled up with unspoken words, a remembered tenderness that was treasured, and a sense of shared trust.

Soon she would show him the sculpture. It was between them, though he didn't know it, the one secret she withheld. When the time was right, she would tell him all. What held her back, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the baby. Perhaps it was not knowing exactly how Myles might take the news. Or maybe she was just waiting to hear him say three magic words. Whatever the reason was, her instincts insisted that the perfect moment would present itself. Today hadn't been it. The invulnerable man had been vulnerable to her; confessing her own hidden hurts would have to wait.

"How many people did you have?" Carol asked.

"Ten," Myles answered, draping his arm around Faith's shoulders. "All close friends."

"No family?"

His arm tensed.

"No," Faith interjected quickly. "Myles's parents passed away some time ago. Mine have been gone since I was eighteen. After they went down in a small plane, Gloria and I stuck together. She was always the steady one, as much mother to me as sister." Staring at the pictures, Faith again experienced the odd sensation that had gripped her at the wedding. Shaking it off, she added, "We missed my cousin Martin at the ceremony. He's in Europe on business."

"I keep wondering what it is he says he has for us," Myles mused. "He was so cryptic."

"By the way," Faith said, "did we mention that our Lamaze classes start next week?"

"How exciting! I wish they'd had such things when Larry and I were having our babies. We have five kids, which wasn't so out of the ordinary then. Nowadays, though, people seem to stop at one or two."

Myles and Faith exchanged knowing glances. Carol was nothing if not consistent.

"I don't think ours is destined to be an only child," Faith ventured, realizing they hadn't discussed the possibility of more. Their marriage was still new.

"Once we hit an even dozen, we might decide we've got enough," Myles put in with a chuckle, winking broadly at Faith.

Surely he wasn't serious. This pregnancy seemed to be lasting forever; how many times would she be willing to go through this, to relinquish herself for a new life? And how many demands would a child put on their relationship? How much time would she have for the career she'd worked so hard to build? As it was, she couldn't keep up.

As Carol bid them good-bye and good luck. Faith stared after her, the questions tumbling like so many dice.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Myles put his arms around her, but she pulled away slightly.

"You don't really want a dozen children, do you?"

"I used to think I did. And you know how much our own family means to me." He gazed down at her thoughtfully, a frown creasing his brow. "I have to admit that lately, though, I've started getting selfish about not wanting to share you. But I'm coming to terms with it... sort of. I keep telling myself that mature, grown men don't try hoarding their wives away from their own children."

Faith bit her lower lip. "Mature, grown women do. At least this one does."

"You too?"

She gazed at him anxiously. "Does that mean we're horrible, Myles? That we won't be good parents?"

"No. I think it means we're sharing some of the same anxieties over a lot of unknowns. I like to think it means we've got a strong enough marriage to confess what we wouldn't to anyone else and that we're bringing our child into a home full of trust and... love." He smiled ruefully and added, "I do feel a lot less guilty now. I'm thinking I'm only human instead of a selfish ogre."

"You haven't had the corner on that market. I've been thinking... or maybe trying not to think lately about..." Faith eyed him levelly. "Myles, what about my career?"

"What about it? Do you want to cut back some more? Or better yet, quit the accounts you've got left and come work for me. The benefits are terrific, pay's not bad, work the hours you want, and you can sleep your way to the top."

"Stop joking, Myles. I'm serious about this."

"So am I. If past experience is any indicator, we make a damn good team." He pulled her against him, ruthless in his attempts at persuasion. "I have a lot of respect for what you do. I'd never ask you to give up something I wouldn't be willing to give up myself... but I could be totally unscrupulous when it comes to keeping you as close to me as I can."

"I'm a hard sell," she warned, even as she warmed to the idea. "You'd better throw your best pitch."

"Okay. For starters I don't like you working late the way you do some nights when I can see you're ready to drop. I sit on my hands to keep from yanking you away from your drafting table."

"I... suspected as much. One of freelancing's drawbacks. You don't like my deadlines, do you?"

"The only time I resent your work is when it eats into our time together. That's why I think we'd both be happier if you closed shop here and put your time in at my office. Besides, it would give us a chance to work on projects away from home and baby. Sure, that part of our lives is the most important, but it's healthy to have more in common than just that and to keep from getting so caught up with our separate careers that we catch quickies and conversation on the fly while we try to raise a family."

Faith thought of the nights she'd already spent working during their marriage and of the mornings she'd woken up to an empty bed. She thought of the women she knew who loved their husbands but didn't seem to know them anymore, the demands of family and job slowly driving them apart, making them near strangers.

"Okay, you've got my attention. Let's hear the plan," she finally said.

"You close your ears and eyes to the weeping and gnashing of teeth when you break the news to your clients. Wind up what you've got, take as much maternity leave as you want, and when you're ready to start working again, pick the days and hours you want."

"But who'll take care of the baby?"

"Simple. We'll hire a part-time nanny. If you're still nursing when you decide to come back to work, I'll have a nursery put in the office so that she and the baby can be handy. I've been planning to get one started for the other women at work anyway."

"What if we disagree, as we're bound to?"

"As long as you don't undermine my authority at work, you can disagree as much as you like. We respect each other professionally. If it gets too personal, we'll just have to work out our differences of opinion in private."

"The other employees might resent me. You wouldn't exactly be unprejudiced."

"Smart people don't bite the hand that feeds them. Besides, once they get a load of your work, they'll be thanking me for bringing you in."

Faith considered him and his suggestions one by one. "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't off-the-cuff?"

"Because it isn't off-the-cuff. I've been plotting this whole scheme since before we got married."

"You're manipulating me. Pulling all the right strings."

Myles slid his hand up her maternity top to fondle a breast.

"I should hope so. But maybe a little more practice would help. Tell me which string makes you weaker. "

Faith moaned her assent as he found her weakest string.

"Enough," she finally pleaded. "I give up. We win."

He sealed the victory with a heart-stopping kiss. The baby stamped its approval with yet another kick.

"Oh, that was hard!" She jumped as a flurry of activity commenced. "And... oh no, the hiccups again."

Myles grinned broadly as he stared down at her belly.

"Looks like one hell of a party in there. Junior must have had too much to drink."

They laughed, and it felt so good, so right. Myles pressed his hand over her belly; she pressed her own over his.

"You know who I miss, Myles?"

"I miss her too, Faith."

"As strange as it sounds... at the wedding, of all the people I wished were there..."

"Gloria," he whispered.

"Yes. I missed her worse than ever then. And only you can understand how I felt."

"She was there," he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. "I felt her there."

"I feel her now," Faith whispered.

"So do I." Myles stroked his hand over her belly as it quieted. "And she's smiling."

Chapter 12

"Hey, gorgeous, are you almost ready to go? We don't want to be late for our last session."

Faith didn't answer. She stared down morosely at her untied laces. Her back hurt. She could hardly breathe. And she was carrying so much baby she didn't seem to have room for food or drink. Though that wasn't true, judging from the number of her trips to the bathroom. The August heat didn't help her hot flashes either, even with the thermostat set near freezing.

"I don't want to go," she muttered crossly. "I want to stay home and be miserable."

She glanced up at Myles, who stood in the doorway, looking maddeningly calm and comfortable in the jeans hugging his well-built hips. That was another thing—she was so sick of maternity clothes, she could scream. She felt like a beached whale and thought she looked like one. She couldn't even get out of bed or a low-slung chair without a hand.

"You go on," she said irritably. "I'll stay."

"Are you crazy? You're due in two weeks. Every time my pager goes off, I have palpitations. Every time you groan or try to get out of bed, I'm ready to jump into my pants and fly out the door."

"At least you can get into them," she accused. "Go away. I want to be alone."

"What's wrong, Garbo?" He smiled tenderly and came to kneel beside her chair. "I won't leave you alone until you tell me."

She was being unreasonable and she knew it, but dammit, how could he understand? How could anyone understand, unless that person had been eight and a half months pregnant?

Suddenly so tired of it all—the pregnancy, the fatigue, the horrible discomfort—she gave in to the need to cry, to get something out of her system, even if it wasn't what was kicking her under the ribs.