Just a Little Misgiving (Shades of Deception, Book 3) (7 page)

Chapter 5

As
they waited for her turn to see the doctor, Faith let her glance slide once more to Myles's left hand. A pale line on his ring finger contrasted sharply with the darkness of his skin. Nearly a week had passed since she'd first noticed the ring's absence, but the sensation of amazement, of hope lingered. That, and a heart full of sympathy for whatever struggle he must have gone through to make the break.

She wished she could comfort him. He'd been unusually quiet, seeming to draw into himself, touching her rarely, carefully, and with a sensitivity that felt like an unspoken need for understanding. She might have played a role in his decision, but she knew he needed to heal in private.

Perhaps he was almost there, and she prayed it was so. Today he'd been different, more his old self, and unabashedly excited about their trip to the doctor. The way he touched her today was also different—frequently, with lingering touches that felt tender yet assertive. Just thinking about it made her shiver.

"Faith Taylor? You can come back now."

"Thanks, I'll be right there." She put down a magazine containing the latest childrearing advice. "Myles, I'll be back in—"

"I'm going with you. Faith." He stood before she could finish, and offered his hand to help her up. "I didn't take off this afternoon just to be relegated to the waiting room."

"But I thought... I assumed..."

"I assumed you understood. I want to be part of this pregnancy from here on." He flashed her a wicked grin that knocked her off balance. "Just because I wasn't around for the conception doesn't mean I have plans to forgo the delivery."

"Mrs. Taylor? Dr. Laurentz has a tight schedule today, and we do have a few things to do first."

Faith could feel the blood rise to her cheeks. She'd had several prenatal visits in Denver, and she knew exactly what those few things involved. Disappearing for a specimen and changing into an exam gown behind a curtain while Myles waited to see her belly get measured wasn't her idea of getting more intimate in their relationship.

"Myles, really—"

"Look, Faith. I understand that you want some privacy, but I refuse to duck out every time you get an attack of modesty. Considering what having a baby entails, I'd be left out until the nurse held Junior up in the nursery window." He took her arm and firmly propelled her forward. "Now, come on, I promise not to peek while you're changing."

Caught between an impatient nurse flipping open a manila folder and the stubborn set of Myles's jaw, Faith allowed herself to be led toward the scales.

On the way the nurse introduced herself as Diane. "And you're Mr. Taylor, I assume?"

"No, I'm
not
Mr. Taylor. But I
am
the father."

"Thank you for getting me in so soon," Faith cut in quickly. "I know a week's notice isn't much time."

"Usually it's not, but as far along as you... How much did you say you normally weighed?"

Diane jiggled the iron weight another quarter pound.

"One hundred and fifteen. And I'm five-seven."

"Hmmm. You're up twelve and a quarter pounds."

"Twelve and a quarter pounds!" she blurted. "How could I gain twelve pounds already? Wait, it has to be the shoes. I've still got—"

"Halfway to go," Myles finished.

"I'll look like an elephant," she groaned, fighting those blasted tears again. Twelve pounds! How could Myles ever find her attractive or desirable? Just when she'd thought that his recent change in attitude was because he was drawn to her as a woman, she had to go turn into a big, fat blimp. "Face it. I'm getting fat."

"No, you're not. You're beautiful."

Faith's attention snapped from the metal scales and collided with Myles's inquiring gaze.

He was waiting for her reaction, she realized with more than a little surprise.

She opened her mouth, but no words came. She could only feel warmth, the utter delight that he found her beautiful. The scales were wrong. She hadn't gained twelve pounds. She was weightless, floating.

Until Diane led them down the corridor.

"Nervous?" Myles whispered next to Faith's ear.

"Am I that obvious?"

"To me you are. Every time you get nervous, you do this little thing with your bottom lip. Like this."

She looked up to see him draw his bottom lip slowly between his teeth. It seemed unpardonably seductive in the clinical surroundings.

"I do that?" Was she having another hot flash? The room was suddenly so warm. "How do you know?"

"I look at your bottom lip a lot."

"You..." She couldn't seem to quit looking at his mouth. "You... do?"

The mouth in question curled into a pleased smile.

"You just did it again. Does that mean it's me who's making you nervous and not the doctor?"

The examining room door yawned open, and Faith looked from Myles to the table covered by a sheet of white paper. A shapeless blue gown was draped over it. The nurse was busy dragging out a cup, a monitor, and a tape measure.

"Both," she said in a strangled voice. She turned to him then with a plea in her eyes. "Myles, please, I don't want—"

"Enough said. I'll wait out here until you're ready." He touched her cheek with his fingertips, then tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "I'd really like to hear what the doctor has to say, and ask a few questions. If she needs to do anything that's too personal, I'll leave the room. How's that?"

"That's... fair," she agreed.

Ten minutes later she decided it wasn't fair in the least when Myles entered the examining room with an expectant smile and covertly gave her a once-over. She felt at a distinct disadvantage sitting on the end of the examining table with the unflattering gown gracing her less-than-perfect body. Her legs dangled over the sides, and a quick glance assured her they were turning a mottled shade of blue. At least they were shaved, she thought miserably.

"You don't have to look so amused," she muttered. "How'd you like to trade places?"

"I think the doctor might have a problem with that." His sudden cough was very suspicious. "Diane said we had about a twenty-minute wait, by the way."

Great! Twenty minutes stranded here afraid to move because she could feel the paper sticking to her bare bottom and didn't want to rip it. This situation was definitely bad for her blood pressure. A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. She hated this. She wanted Myles, who appeared to be strangling a laugh and was still dressed in his impeccable suit, to share in her growing discomfort.

"What's so funny anyway?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, it's just that..."He shook his head, and his mirth dissipated. He leaned close and murmured confidentially, "Can you keep a secret?"

"What a question, for you of all people to ask," she observed, knowing he couldn't possibly guess he was the deepest secret of all.

"Touché." He let his gaze drift from her bottom lip to her breasts.

She felt a quickening there. Then lower... lower.

"My secret is that this afternoon I looked at nursing gowns. I thought most of them were plain, but compared to this thing they were pretty darn sexy."

"You went shopping? For nursing gowns? You're not serious."

"Never more so."

"But why?"

"You said you planned to nurse." His gaze lifted slowly from her breasts. His eyes, as dark and somber as a midnight sky, were more piercing than she could ever remember. The quickening intensified to a quiver.

"Since you said that," he murmured, "I keep imagining my baby suckling you." He touched his finger to her mouth. "I'm also envious as hell."

Her first instinct was to bite her bottom lip. His finger caught between her teeth.

"I was hoping you'd do that." There was a gritty edge to his voice that matched the narrowing of his eyes. "But, please, don't feel compelled to stop there."

Her tongue seemed to have a curious will of its own, and her voice was reduced to a small whimper. She tasted a trace of soap, which mingled with the faint saltiness of skin.

She probed the contour and taste and texture of his fingertip. He made a noise deep in his throat that was between a groan and a growl.

Without thought she responded, closing her lips around his finger. She suckled his finger with the hunger of a babe at the breast, with the sensual eroticism of two lovers in the heat of passion. Then there was the feel of his other hand working through her hair and moving against her scalp.

"I think you'd better stop," he said in a low, rough voice. "Because as it is, I'm burning to find out if the other things you do with your mouth are half as good as what you're doing to me now."

With reluctance, with a thrill of sensual confidence she'd never experienced before, she complied.

"Just what is it that I'm doing to you, Myles?" Her voice wavered slightly, but it was throaty, deep, aroused.

"Too much and not enough. Making me want to live so that I can endure more of this torture. Making me feel until I ache." He tasted his finger where the moisture of her mouth lingered. "Making me want to forget about being polite and subtle and worried about how you'd react if I did what I've been dying to do to you."

"Why don't you do what it is you've been dying to do, and find out?"

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if he could hear it. This wasn't the man who broke an embrace when his body called to hers or who solicitously inquired how she'd slept and insisted she eat the meal he'd prepared; and she wasn't the woman who yearned in silence and doubted her ability to make him long too.

"It might start with a kiss, Faith, but believe me, it won't end there."

He pinned her with a gaze that reflected the starkness of his need.

She felt as though she were seeing him for the first time. She clung to his desire, exulted in it. She couldn't let it go, not after waiting year after barren year.

"Where would it end, Myles?"

"Don't you know? Here." He placed her hand over his heart. It beat heavy and quick. He slid her palm down the crisp white shirt covering his hard, broad chest, then over his belt of thin leather and the smooth, chilled texture of the buckle, and then lower... lower still...

"And here."

She uttered a short, muffled cry. The shock, the thrill, the utter disbelief of where he had led her to touch him were almost enough to make her beg him to take her right there.

She knew they had somehow cut through the insurmountable obstacles of who they were and what had brought them there and were now confronting the bare truth of what they could be.

He pressed her hand over the straining thickness hidden within his tailored dark trousers, then curled her fingers into his groin. His breath left him in a low, guttural moan, and then quickly he pried her hand away.

"And here. Faith," he whispered, this time touching her. His voice rough with emotion, he laid his hand over her belly, and she could feel him shake. "Here."

"Myles." She laid her hand over his and made no effort to restrain the tears. Where he touched her she felt a fluttering.

His face was transformed with shades of desire, and the torment of unsatisfied need. His eyes met hers in wonder, and a slow smile spread in understanding.

"Did you feel that?" he asked. The fluttering sensation again. "Faith—"

"The baby," she breathed, feeling it move within her for the first time. She'd always known it was there, but the movement, telling her it was truly alive and that it was growing inside, left her in awe and strangely humbled. "My baby," she said, feeling laughter and tears mingle in her throat.

"No, Faith," Myles said, beaming. "Our baby."

Moments later the doctor knocked on the door and found them in a joyful embrace, both of them laughing, with tears rolling freely down Faith's cheeks and Myles's hand resting protectively, possessively over the blue gown covering her belly.

"That's what I love about my job," Dr. Laurentz said after explanations were made. "There's nothing more wonderful than the birth of a baby. It makes up for the down sides of my profession."