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

"You're right, Myles," she slowly agreed, thrilling to his touch when she knew she should be pulling back. "I do take my vows... my promises... seriously. Especially something of this magnitude. But it's complicated. Nothing turned out to be exactly perfect. Too many things went wrong."

His grip tightened momentarily before he took the cup and set it aside. She wanted him to touch her again, wrong or not, because she had loved him too long, she was too alone and all too human. She wanted him to touch her the way he had when he'd stroked her hair. She knew he'd only meant to comfort her, but the effect on her was anything but soothing.

"Look at me, Faith," he said in a low voice. When she hesitated, he did touch her again, tilting her chin up. A single tear of joy and sorrow and distress slid down her cheek. Then she felt the sensitive brush of his fingertip, callused from manual work, as he wiped the plump, wet drop. In that moment Faith knew she had been wise over the years to avoid even the most casual embrace of greeting, the most innocent kiss of good-bye.

"Look at me," he said again.

She did look at him then. As usual, she felt a tingling shock, as though a live wire had hit an exposed nerve.

Myles's hand tensed, and it seemed to jerk as he moved it away. His face took on a strained expression before he frowned and erased what she thought she'd seen.

"Why did I do it?" she whispered with jagged breath. "Because I loved my sister enough to do anything for her. Because the doctor said her will to live and her attitude were vital to recovery... and I thought it might make the difference. I couldn't live with myself if I thought there was one thing I could have done to turn the tide and held it back. Because—"

Because I wanted to make it up to her for falling in love with you before I had any idea she'd fallen in love with the same man. Because, Myles, I wanted to have your baby, no matter how it was conceived.... Because, God forgive me, I was human enough to want to give you something no one else could, not even your wife.

Faith took a deep breath. "Because I'm nearly thirty years old and I have no man in the foreseeable future and I thought it might be my one chance to have a child. I knew you and Gloria would be wonderful parents, and since I planned to move close by, I thought it would be perfect. You'd have all the responsibility and I could spoil the kid rotten without giving up my career." She gave a false laugh. "I'm a practical, modern woman. It made perfect sense at the time."

His expression hardened, and she knew with regret that she'd succeeded in convincing him of the lie.

"Well, it's nice to know that even with that kind of modern thinking you could make a decision that was humane. As for me..."He shrugged and pursed his lips in thought. "No, I don't think I could have been that... objective in my reasoning."

And Gloria would never have considered such a cold, calculating angle.

He didn't say it out loud, but she could hear the thought as if he'd shouted it, and it hurt. Deeply. She'd concocted the lie to disguise her real reasons, but why did he have to swallow it without hesitation? Now she felt compelled to defend herself.

"I had no way of knowing how attached I'd become to the baby. And it's not as though I wanted to put in only occasional appearances on birthdays and holidays. Gloria understood I wanted to play an important role in my child's upbringing and that's why I'd planned to move back. Between the two of us, the child would have the best of both worlds. She was so nurturing and competent, and I'm so..."

So... what? she wondered. Would she make a good mother? It was The Question that wouldn't go away. She wanted to be the best, but she couldn't be Gloria. Gloria who cooked and sewed and took every child she ever met into her arms. Gloria the steady one, the nurturer, the listening ear who always gave good counsel.

And what of her? Had the years really matured her enough to handle this? Faith could feel her bottom lip begin to quiver. What was wrong with her anyway? She never used to cry. But now the tears came when she read baby announcements at card shops, when commercials for long-distance telephone calls came on, when she heard sentimental songs. What had happened to the self-assured woman she had been? Now she felt so... so overwhelmed by it all. She couldn't cook, she couldn't sew. No child could want her for a mother.

An unexpected sob lodged in her throat.

"You're the kind of mother who would let your child have the time of his life while you helped him dig a hole in the ground to China." Myles leaned forward and took her hand. "You'd let him get filthy when he played because dirt washes off and having fun's more important than keeping a rip out of his pants. You might not make cookie dough, but you'd always be game to see who could make a jaw breaker last longest, or have gum balls handy for a bubble-blowing contest. You'd always know the top forty songs and be really 'cool'—for a mom that is."

She sniffled, and looked up from their clasped hands with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Myles. You'll make a..."

"Good father?" he filled in when she trailed off.

He held her gaze with an unwavering, purposeful one of his own. Faith could feel the prickle of chills at the nape of her neck at the same time that her hands grew clammy and damp. Hormones, no doubt.

"What are we going to do, Myles? You know the truth now." Or most of it, she thought. "You also know I wasn't going to let you in on the secret. No more than I planned to give the baby up once..."

Gloria died.
Oh, Lord, for once she wished they could talk without her ghost between them.

"You were going to go through with this all alone, weren't you? If I hadn't found those papers, you never would have told me."

"I thought telling you would make things more complicated than they already were. After all, we did deceive you. I had no way of knowing how you'd react. Whether you'd be angry or accepting or—"

"You were afraid that I'd try to take the baby away, weren't you?"

She nodded. "You threatened as much."

"I know, and I wish I could take it back. But you were denying it all, and I was angry. Desperate. You have to understand something, Faith. I lost too much." His grip tightened, and she returned the increased pressure. "My grief, it was like this living, breathing thing. It's been eating me alive, like a kind of..."

Cancer.
The word hung suspended. Unspoken yet understood.

"I've felt it, too, Myles." She glanced at her belly and wished fervently that he could share her joy over the baby and the comfort she drew from it that made her own loss more bearable. If only the situation were different with her and Myles; if only she could lay his hand upon her belly and let him share the bond.

Instead she said, "I was only thinking of myself. Forgive me for that."

"What's done is done," he said. "What matters now is how we choose to handle the situation. I'm not going to try to take the baby away from you, Faith. But I'm not willing to bow out either."

"I don't expect you to."

"Then you do admit that I have a valid claim on this child?"

"You have the evidence." She flushed at the memory of her blatant denial; she didn't blame Myles for lashing out at her the way he had. The whole nightmarish scene was her fault too. "No, Myles. I'm not going to try to deny that you have a very real stake in all this."

"Good. But we're still left with big problems." He picked up the mug and handed it to her. "Drink your milk, Faith."

She obliged him, knowing it was for the good of the baby, though it certainly wasn't to her personal liking. Once she had a mouthful. Myles fixed her with a meaningful stare.

"I'll call a mover tomorrow to see about getting your things shipped to Detroit."

Faith choked on the liquid. Myles was immediately out of his chair.

"Faith, are you all right?" He began to pat her back furiously, his voice anxious.

She coughed hard several times, then caught her breath.

His face was mere inches from hers. The concern etched in his features shifted to something that was unmistakably male. His eyes met hers and darkened before his gaze lowered to her lips.

Myles could feel the shallow wisp of her breath fan sweetly against his skin. How long had it been since he'd felt this way? Felt the stirrings of his body, the urge to press soft woman-skin to his chest, his loins, to take it and caress it with his hands? So long, oh Lord, so very long. For so long he'd been surrounded by sickness until he thought it had invaded his own body as well.

And here was health, here was life, here was a woman he wanted with a sudden, staggering urgency. He didn't understand it. He couldn't accept it. But there it was, pressing in on him, urging surrender to the weakness of his flesh. A sensation of shutters snapping open gripped him, and he tilted her head up seeing her in a different light.

He stared at a face that looked back at him with confusion. She wasn't the young girl he'd worked with years ago. Flash had been traded in for quiet elegance. Gone were the trendy hairstyles, replaced by something simple but chic. The clothes in her closet were probably classic yet eclectic rather than funky.

In a discreet way he'd noticed her evolution. Only there was nothing discreet about what he was feeling now. His body leaned closer... closer.... Did she have to smell so good? Like the first whisper of spring after a harsh, lonely, endless winter.

He had to move away, get some space between them, or he would kiss her. Too much remained unresolved and his conscience was screaming obscenities at his libido for even thinking it.

Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip. Pink. Delicate. Satiny.

Sexy.

Myles forced his feet to move back and could only pray she didn't hear the groan catch in his throat. She would surely be insulted if she could read his thoughts... or worse, she would pity him, find his starvation of the senses pathetic.

A pity kiss. He hadn't stooped that low.

"Detroit?" she said unevenly, breaking the strained silence. "You mean you still expect me to move there, even after... And my lease here—"

"Can be sublet, and if not, I'll pay any penalty fees. It's the least I can do." Myles paced the room restlessly, needing an outlet of release. "Besides, you said yourself you'd planned to move before everything got so crazy. Why change your mind now?"

He was pushing her and he knew it, but damn... first the baby, and now this. This hurting pulse between his legs. This distress and impatience with himself for not having more control.

"But where will I live? I couldn't possibly—"

"Move in with me? Why not? It's a huge house. We wouldn't even have to cross paths. Except at mealtimes." He managed a slight smile. "Just so I can be sure you're eating right."

What are you, nuts?
his rational mind challenged.
You could share the Taj Mahal and it would still be too close for comfort.

"Myles, I don't know if that's such a good idea. I mean... it's such an awkward situation. I need my own place. And I have to have a studio."

"You work from your home now as it is. Couldn't you keep your accounts just as well from Detroit? I don't think many of those advertisers are going to want to give up their best free-lance designer."

"You're flattering me now."

"But not falsely." He took a steadying breath. "Would you lose any accounts?"

"Maybe one or two, not many."

"I'll make up for any that you lose. In fact my company could use your talents. But the point is this. You can move your career. I can't. CEOs can't pack up and tell the employees to keep in touch."

"I... realize that."

"Then you also realize that it's impossible for me to be there for you and the baby unless we close the distance. Detroit's too far from Denver."

"I can't argue that. But—" She seemed to struggle with something inside herself before closing her eyes and saying hesitantly, "I suppose... perhaps if I could find my own place there. One big enough for a studio... and a nursery."

He couldn't believe his ears. Whatever her reasons, she'd given in much faster than he'd dared hope. Faith shifted in her chair, and he could discern the slight roundness of her usually reed-slim body. Pregnancy definitely agreed with her, he realized. Not only was she filling out, she had more color in her face. He liked seeing her cheeks so rosy.

"A nice place can be hard to find on a moment's notice. And as far as a nursery goes, I want my child to have the best. Don't you?"

"Of course. But, Myles, we can't live together, not even temporarily. I couldn't possibly stay in your house."

"Why not? Because it wouldn't be appropriate? Or because you're afraid this is just a ploy to get you under my roof so that after the baby's born I won't let you take it away?"

For a full minute she regarded him keenly. Then she shook her head. "No, I don't think you'd do that. Not as long as you could spend as much time as you wanted with him... or her."

He felt a smile slowly appear on his lips. It had been so long, the expression felt odd. And good, so good. He hadn't had time to consider things like nurseries and genders and spending time with a baby.
His
baby! He was going to have a baby! After all this time it was finally happening. Not as he'd envisioned it when he and Gloria had bought the big old house years before. They'd been careful and patient, at his insistence, waiting for his daring business venture to stabilize before trying to have children.