Morgan's Child (13 page)

"That's Yaupon Island after a hurricane passed through some years ago," she told him when they stood in front of the next photo.

That picture showed a tangle of debris in front of the keeper's quarters. Kate's father stood with one foot on a palmetto log, hands on his hips, smiling into the camera lens. Kate had taken the picture herself when she was about ten years old.

"I suppose storms are frequent here," Morgan observed.

"We have a couple of big ones every year, though they don't usually reach hurricane strength," Kate said.

"What do you do when a hurricane comes—go to the mainland?"

"Dad liked to, but I always preferred to batten down the hatches and ride it out on the island."

"Daredevil," he accused, his eyes sparkling. He looked around the room. "There are no pictures of your mother here," he said.

"Dad took it hard when Mom ran away with Johnny."

"You did, too, I suppose," Morgan said.

"What nine-year-old girl wouldn't? Oh, Mom used to send me a birthday card once in a while saying how much she'd love to see me, but every time I tried to set a time and place for us to meet, she wiggled out of it. The last card came from Africa, and I haven't heard from her in years."

Kate tried to sound philosophical, but she'd always felt that there was an empty place in her life that no one had ever been able to fill. She'd had a hard time forming attachments to anyone—man or woman—because deep in her heart she'd always been afraid of being abandoned again. And in fact, the one time she'd let down her guard, that was exactly what had happened.

This was not something she wanted to explain to Morgan, however. She had to do something about him, though, because he was standing in the middle of the sitting room and looking as if leaving was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment.

She gestured toward the couch. "Please sit down," she said, halfway glad for his company. As much as she enjoyed her solitude, it did get lonely on Yaupon Island sometimes.

"Maybe you can help with the letter I'm writing." Earlier she'd printed it, and now she handed it to him.

His eyes scanned quickly. "Very succinct and to the point," he said.

"I tried to write a letter with punch, one that will make someone sit up and take notice. I need to go to work as soon as I can after the baby is born, and it won't be easy. It's not a good job market for one thing, and for another—well, let's just say that I'm anticipating a lot of difficulty," Kate told him.

"If you need a reference, perhaps I could help," Morgan said. He looked so self-confident, and Kate knew that he had no idea of the uphill struggle she faced.

"The only kind of references I need are those in my field, and that won't be easy," she said quietly, staring down at her hands.

"Kate, what's wrong? Something's bothering you." Morgan leaned forward, his eyes warm with understanding.

She interlocked her fingers and stretched them so that the knuckles cracked. Morgan winced at the sound.

"I'm not sure I want to tell you," Kate said.

"Come on, you don't have to be so secretive."

"It has to do with things that happened a long time ago," she hedged.

She must be referring to what Tony had told him about, but Morgan didn't want to let on that he knew. "In that case, the best thing to do is forget them and move on," he told her, waiting to see what she'd say.

"It's not that easy," she said ruefully. "My whole professional career is nothing more than garbage because of what happened." She gazed down at the floor for a long moment. Then, "Would you like a beer?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure," he said, but she had surprised him with the offer. She got up and walked into the kitchen where he heard her opening and closing the refrigerator door. She returned with a can of beer and a glass, both of which she set down beside him.

"Aren't you having one?" he asked.

"I don't drink," she said. "I keep the beer around for guests who do."

He poured and took a sip. "We were talking about your professional career," he reminded her.

She ran a careless hand through her hair, and he suddenly remembered how silky it had felt beneath his fingertips. He longed to touch it again, and it was all he could do to keep his hand curved around his glass.

"It happened at the Northeast Marine Institute," she told him, and he forced himself to pay attention. "That's where I worked before I came here. I discovered that a co-worker was faking data—in fact, his whole study was fabricated. A friend of mine who worked there, Penelope, called my attention to some irregularities, and I investigated and uncovered all kinds of proof. I blew the whistle, and I got fired," she said.

"But you were in the right?" he asked quickly.

"Of course I was," she said with indignation.

"So why were you fired?"

"The co-worker and the head of the department were collaborating on a research paper incorporating the false data. I lost my research job and, when I couldn't pay the bills, I had to sell my house and my car—almost everything I owned. Then my father got sick and—well, here I am." She shrugged and tried to smile.

"Kate, I can't imagine that you sat back and let these people run right over you," Morgan said.

"I didn't. I testified before Congress, only to be publicly dismissed by my department head as a crackpot who resented my co-worker's superior ability. Oh, and I left out one important thing. My co-worker was my fiancé. Mitch and I were supposed to be married at the end of that year."

"You've never recovered, have you?" he asked, watching her carefully.

"Recovered? I lost my house, my car, my job and the man in my life. In short, everything," she said, eyes flashing.

"But not your self-respect," he shot back, and she blinked at him, surprised.

"You don't give yourself enough credit. You stood up to them, Kate, and you were in the right. Not many people would have had the courage to do that." Morgan was touched by her story, and he wished she'd told him before. It helped him understand a lot of things about her.

"Not many people would have been stupid enough to expose two award-winning scientists who can command millions in research grants," she said in a wry tone. "I decide on the spur of the moment to do things, then I have to live with the decision. It's a bad habit."

He knew she was thinking of her pregnancy and of bearing a child for Courtney. A good time to switch topics, so he did.

"Why did you do it, Kate?"

"I've just explained all that," she said. "What Mitch was doing wasn't right."

"I wasn't referring to that. I meant, why did you become a surrogate mother for someone you barely knew?"

She looked wistful. "Because I thought it was the only chance I would have to bear a baby. I decided a long time ago that single motherhood wasn't for me," she said.

A long silence followed. "A woman like you could marry someday. If you choose, that is," he said.

"No, I've ruled that out after what happened between Mitch and me. I'm happiest when I'm working. My priorities are first to redeem myself and then to immerse myself in my work with oysters. Someday I want to achieve something that would have made my father proud of me."

"What would he have said about your pregnancy?"

Kate gazed into space for a moment, looking reflective. "I've asked myself that many times, Morgan. When I first became pregnant, I thought he would have cheered me on. After all, this was something new and had a scientific component. Plus I was doing something useful for Courtney," she said.

"And now?" he asked, his gaze locked with hers.

"I realize that we haven't begun to scratch the surface of the social implications of the latest developments in scientific and medical technology," she said. "For the first time in my life, science scares me." Somewhere a clock ticked, and in that moment Morgan felt sympathy for her and, yes, pity.

"Kate," he said. "There's not much I can do to help you get work. But as for what Courtney did, well, I can make up for it if you'll let me. If I've caused you any grief, I—"

"I could have done without the detective," she said, and her tone was sharp.

"A mistake on my part," he said, thinking guiltily about Tony Saldone, who was at this minute hard on the case somewhere in Maine.

"I know you're a hardheaded businessman, and I'm sure you think that you had to do what you did. But sending a detective to ask my friends about other men! It was so... so—"

"Humiliating," he said in a low tone. "I know. I'm sorry, and I'll make up for it. Let me take care of you, Kate. If you need anything, tell me. I'll get it for you. Not just for the baby's sake, but because you deserve it."

She sighed, and when she spoke it was slowly and without her usual verve. "Since my father died, there hasn't been anyone who would take care of me. I've had to be independent, which I admit came naturally. It's not easy for me to let someone else take over my life."

"I don't want to take over your life. I only want to smooth the way for you."

"Are you going to start following me around every minute again?" she asked.

"I'm the eldest of four children, and I looked after all of them when we were kids. It comes naturally to me to watch out for you, even though I know you don't like it."

"Having somebody tagging around after me makes me grumpy," she said.

"Pregnant women—"

"Don't tell me about pregnant women! The fact is, I'm always kind of a grouch. I'm impatient with people who are trite, inept, corrupt or immoral. And men often bring out the worst in my disposition. Don't ask me why."

To her utter surprise, he laughed. "At least you're honest," he said. When he stopped laughing, he grew more serious. "Do you accept my apology, Kate? I have to know."

"If you can accept my need to grouch once in a while," she said.

"Done," he said.

Suddenly and unexpectedly she stretched her hands out to him, and he took them. Energy flowed between them, and more.

"Friends?" she asked.

"Friends."

At that moment he couldn't pull his eyes away from hers; they looked so deep, so understanding. Somehow he had expected Kate to hold on to her resentment and to make this even more difficult than it already was. He hadn't expected openness and candor.

"You'd better go, or I'll never get my letter finished," she said. She stood, and he watched how she had to position her legs far apart to bear her weight.

He followed her to the door, mesmerized by the way she walked. She moved with stately grace, like a great ocean liner upon the sea. Her limbs were long and lissome, distracting him from the bulk of her belly, but his eyes kept returning to it because, heaven help him, he found that part of her beautiful.

Because it's part of her,
he told himself mentally, but, of course, that wasn't true. The baby was not of Kate at all. It was
his
baby.
His
baby filling her up, weighting her down, changing her life, and the knowing of it gave him a feeling so intimate that he could only imagine how it must feel to have impregnated a woman through the act of intercourse. It must be the ultimate power trip to know that you had not only created a new human being but had changed another person's, the mother's, life forever.

"I'll see you—tomorrow," Kate said.

He wondered if she ever felt lonely when she slept in the double bed he'd glimpsed through the door of her bedroom. He wondered if she ever woke in the night and wished to snuggle against a warm body.

"I meant it when I offered to bring you something from town tomorrow," he said when they were standing in front of the door. "Isn't there anything you need?"

"Pickles," she said suddenly. "I know it's trite, but—oh, if I only had something sour to eat. I seem to have a hard time tasting things these days—everything tastes like cardboard or worse."

"Pickles?" he said, smiling at her.
"Pickles."
He laughed.

He looked at her helplessly, and then, before he knew what was happening, her face tilted toward him, his head drifted downward, and he felt the warmth of her breath upon his lips. One of her breasts brushed his arm, and before he could take another breath, before he lost his nerve, his lips met hers.

It was a slow, sweet kiss, their lips softly pliant, and he was afraid to take her in his arms for fear of breaking the spell. Only their lips touched, and when it was over, her eyes were luminous in the light from the lamp. He was overwhelmed with tender feelings for her.

"I think maybe I just made the second biggest mistake of my life," she said, sounding shaken.

He was taken aback. Was that a wisecrack or a heartfelt observation? Morgan didn't know. But whatever she'd meant, it certainly took the wind out of his sails.

He gripped her shoulders. "Whatever that was, it was no mistake," he said, his voice rough. For good measure he yanked her close and swept his tongue over her lips. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath, and he pulled her closer, backing her up against the door, exploring the exquisite textures of tongue and lips. She might have broken away first, but he pursued the kiss aggressively until he heard her moan deep in her throat, and then he released her, triumph surging through him.