Sutherland’s Pride (7 page)

“Pride, dear, thank you for stopping to speak,” Bettricia Sutherland said, in almost humble tones. “You haven’t changed.”

Bettricia was an elegant, faded blonde, with a slender figure and soft, blue eyes. She was a tender-hearted woman who lived for her husband and her son.

Pride, conscious of the dotted-on freckles on her nose, clasped the older woman’s hand warmly. “Neither have you. It’s so nice to see the two of you again, and to visit Houston again.”

“You were never full of platitudes before,” Morgan Sutherland observed. “In fact, we liked you because you were so warm and genuine. Have we injured you that deeply by our actions three years ago?”

“Dad, can’t you leave the subject alone? Surely you can see Pride doesn’t care for it.”

“I’m not hurt at all,” Pride said, at once. “If you want to know the truth, I was surprised you spoke to me tonight. I caused you both a lot of trouble and heartache.”

“That’s true enough.” Morgan’s gaze went over her slightly too slender figure. “The question is, how much did you suffer? Has Flynn even bothered to find out?”

“Dad — ”

The situation had almost progressed beyond saving, Pride saw. Morgan had decided he was responsible in some way for her well-being, and he wouldn’t hesitate to try and take her over.

“There was never anything wrong with me,” Pride said quietly. “Flynn has nothing to find out about, or to reproach himself about.”

Morgan’s brown gaze, so like Flynn’s, never moved from her face. He said nothing, but the determined expression on his face told her clearly that he wasn’t done with the subject.

“It’s nice to see you both again,” Pride said. “If you’ll excuse us, I need to get home to my cousin.”

She nodded pleasantly, trying not to notice the tears that had filled Bettricia’s soft, blue eyes, and turned away in obedience to the gentle pressure of Flynn’s hand at her back.

“I’m sorry about Dad’s refusal to stay off the forbidden subject,” Flynn said as they walked toward the door. “He worried about you after you left.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, he did.” He added, “So did I.”

Pride gave him a dazzling smile. “There was no need for anyone to worry about me. As you can see, I’m flourishing.”

“Yes, I see that,” Flynn said, “although your freckles don’t look quite the same as the sun-kissed variety.”

“Now, Flynn, if you want freckles, you’ll get freckles. I thought I did a good job.”

“You did, except for this big one on the left side of your nose. It looks a bit unbalanced.”

“Too bad,” Pride leaped on the change of subject. “My hand must have faltered at a critical moment.”

“I think I can help out in this situation,” Flynn said.

Before she could protest, Flynn wrapped his arms around her, and his lips descended on the side of her nose. For a brief instant, she shoved hard at him, but she was no match for his strength. She stood passively while he caressed the offending dot with his tongue then reached up to rub at her nose with his finger tip.

“Too bad” he said. “Looks like I’ve damaged a few of the others.”

“I feel a lawsuit coming on,” she began, and Flynn’s warm mouth covered hers.

Astounded, Pride closed her eyes to shut out his face while he kissed her with enormous deliberation, as if they stood in the privacy of his apartment rather than the busy foyer of a restaurant.

“Your car is here, sir,” the doorman said, when Flynn lifted his head at last.

Flynn smiled into Pride’s dazed, green eyes. “Now you look even more unbalanced. I’d better tend to the other side.”

Pride recovered herself. “Thank you, I’ll tend to it myself.”

She fell silent while he helped her into his Bronco. Why was Flynn kissing her? Nothing made any sense. The kiss left her in such a whirl, she hardly knew her own name.

Flynn climbed in, and his thoughtful expression encouraged her to swiftly wet the lace-edged handkerchief in her purse and scrub at the freckles penciled on her nose and cheeks.

“Actually, I was getting used to them,” he said.

“Sorry. Maybe I should try getting some sun.”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “The weather should be great.”

He started the engine and guided the vehicle out of the drive and onto the street.

Pride said nothing, but the tumult inside her fairly shouted out a warning. She still wanted Flynn. She must be crazy. She had to be. Worse, she wanted him to make love to her again. She was clearly, certifiably, indubitably, insane.

But Johnny needed a little brother or sister. Surely that need mitigated her insanity a bit.

“What are you smiling about, Pride?”

“I was wondering how much longer your watch was going to live after further exposure to Johnny. He’s a very tenacious little boy, Flynn. Maybe you’d better use your cell phone like everyone else these days.”

Flynn laughed and showed her his elegant, gold mariner’s watch. She peered at the colorful, nautical flags on the face. So far as she could tell, the watch still kept perfect time.

“I’ll have it fixed one of these days.”

“Once Johnny eats the face, you’ll have to invest in a new watch.”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“Let’s hope you still think so, when I send you the bill for the operation to remove various little metal parts from his insides.”

“All kids eat peculiar things. My particular experiences along that line are legendary. Just ask Dad.”

Pride chuckled. “I might do that.”

She’d enjoy knowing of another likeness between Flynn and Johnny, although it looked like she’d never be able to share the likeness with the person most concerned.

Flynn had turned the car into another parking lot and was guiding it into a parking space before Pride realized they had left the street.

“I thought you were taking me home.”

“I’m taking you dancing. We won’t stay long.”

Being around Flynn in a busy restaurant was one thing. Being alone with him on a dance floor was quite another.

“I’d rather not,” she said, almost breathless with the desire to dance with him. Just once, she promised herself.

“I know, but we’re going anyway.” He glanced at her as he released his seat belt. “You can endure dancing with me for twenty or thirty minutes, can’t you?”

She feared she’d do far more than endure it. She feared she’d enjoy it outrageously. That was the problem.

He came swiftly around to help her down. “I’ve changed my mind about that dress.”

Startled, she looked up. His penny-brown eyes were warm and merry, which, at the moment, was more seductive to Pride than his most passionate kisses and apologetic speeches would have been.

“You remember it?” she managed. “I’m surprised.”

“I’ve never forgotten anything about you,” he said.

Feeling considerably shaken, Pride gave him her hand and stepped down. Obviously, this dancing idea was a bigger mistake than she thought.

She tried to remove her hand from his clasp as soon as her feet were on the pavement, but he refused to let go. Instead, he tucked her hand through his arm in the old way and walked her toward the nightclub. Pride panicked when she noted that her overly responsive senses had detected the warmth of his body as he walked close beside her.

The band played a slow, soft tune when Flynn seated her at a small table near the dance floor. Maybe she should spend the time scarfing down cocktails rather than dancing in Flynn’s arms.

She hadn’t been seated a minute when Flynn rose and took her hand. “Let’s dance.”

The music changed to a slow waltz. She went into Flynn’s arms, feeling almost as if time had rolled back.

He held her way too close. Pride made a vain attempt to keep her distance, but his arms proved strong and unyielding. Before she knew it, her cheek rested on his chest, and his hand at her back pressed her against his body.

“You move like an angel,” he said in her ear.

Pride repressed a tingle of reaction to those words and said only, “Thank you.”

Flynn’s soft laughter stirred her hair. “Aren’t you going to tell me I dance like Fred Astaire?”

She had once responded to his compliments with compliments of her own. “I’ll pass judgment on you after a few more dances.”

“Good. We’ll stay as long as you want to dance,” Flynn said.

She wanted to dance with him forever. That realization struck her with shattering effect.

As if he knew her thoughts, Flynn brought her even closer to his body, letting her feel his hard strength and the power of his embrace. Pride gasped and wondered if she could last through another few dances with Flynn Sutherland. Her body already longed to undergo a form of core meltdown.

The band, for once, cooperated with Pride’s head, if not her traitorous body. It shifted from the waltz into a snappy rock number.

“Let’s sit down,” Flynn said. “I want to make a few requests.”

He settled her at their table once more, ordered her a glass of wine, and crossed the floor to confer with the band leader. Moments later, she saw him drop money into the kitty.

“What did you request?” she asked, when he returned.

Flynn smiled. “A few things you like.”

Pride gulped. Was Flynn trying to resurrect her feelings for him by recreating the things she had once responded to? Perhaps he liked her performance in bed so much, he wanted a repeat.

If so, he certainly knew how to go about it.

The band slid into a slow version of a Beatles tune Pride loved. Flynn reached for her hand at once and led her onto the dance floor.

She could not allow this to happen, she realized belatedly.

“Flynn? Do you still plan on adopting children someday?”

The question startled him. She detected the sudden tension in his arms.

“Perhaps,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering. You aren’t really sterile, you know. If you fall in love with the right woman, and conditions are truly compatible, you might just surprise yourself.”

His soft laughter tickled her hair, and seconds later, she felt his lips on her temple.

“I hope so,” he said. “With adoption the way it is these days, I’ll be fifty before I make it to the top of the lists.”

Pride fastened on that. “Of course, you could go on a do-it-yourself kick and take out one of those ads in the personal columns. ‘Rich attorney and full-time Mom with lovely home, fenced yard, and lots of love seek to adopt your newborn baby.’”

“I haven’t even hooked up with that truly compatible woman yet.” Flynn cuddled her closer, despite her attempts to look into his face. “What do you suggest I look for?”

Her writer’s creative instincts swung into high gear. “The first thing you should do, as soon as you have a likely prospect, is have a compatibility check done.”

“Is that so? What the heck is a compatibility check?”

Pride grinned against his chest. “That’s where the doctors check out your sperm and her eggs to make sure they won’t hate each other upon sight. It seems that there are all kinds of little parts on a woman that can develop fierce, allergic reactions to the complimentary parts on a man.” She waited an instant, before adding helpfully, “I believe it’s a common cause of infertility.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, indeed. They forgot to get their little parts checked out for compatibility. Instead, they fell in love.”

“Terrible,” Flynn murmured. “Really terrible.”

“If children are the desired result, that’s a fact,” Pride told him, tongue-in-cheek.

“There ought to be a law.”

“You’re an attorney. Draft one.” She searched her memory for the research she’d once done for an article. “In the meantime, however, there are several techniques available for males with your particular problem.”

“Really?”

Knowing Morgan Sutherland, Pride suspected he had already informed Flynn of every option available. “Yes, indeed. For one thing, when a man has a low sperm count, they can actually concentrate the sperm — ”

“Pride.”

“Yes, Flynn?” She smiled into his shirt.

“Shut up.”

“No, Flynn, I don’t think I will. Those days are over. It’s time you realized I intend to speak when and where I please, on what I please.” She lifted her head, with her most challenging smile. “If you don’t like it, why don’t you just leave me on the dance floor while you turn around and stalk off?”

Flynn smiled back. Oddly enough, he didn’t look angry.

“Leaving you to catch a cab back to Anahuac?” he asked.

“Actually, I’d call Gloria to come get me. Once she got here, we’d get a motel room, now that I’m rich, and spend tomorrow shopping wildly at the Galleria.”

“You still don’t believe you’re rich?”

“My suspicious attitude has nothing to do with you being the lawyer to spring it on me,” she assured him.

“Thank you.” Flynn held her against him. “Your faith in my integrity is most touching.”

“I’ve never doubted your integrity, Flynn,” Pride said, in earnest tones. “Your intelligence, yes, but your integrity, no.”

There was a beat of silence, then Flynn burst into laughter that had couples near them glancing their way.

“I suppose I’m lucky you’ve consented to let me hold you like this,” he said.

“I don’t mind dumb men. It’s the dishonest ones I can’t stand. You know. The ones who swear up and down they’ll take care of you no matter what.”

Flynn came to an abrupt halt, causing Pride to stumble over his foot. His lean face suddenly looked hard and set.

“All right,” he said. “I suppose I deserved that. Get your purse. I’ll take you home.”

Pride snatched up her small, leather clutch on the run as Flynn, his hand at her back, hurried her out of the club. He didn’t slow down until they arrived at his Bronco.

Rather than unlock the door swiftly to lift her in, he stood staring at her in the semi-darkness, making no move to fish his keys from his pocket.

“It occurred to me recently — ” he began.

“Do you mean, tonight?”

“Recently,” he went on, ignoring her, “that you have reason to be considerably upset with me, even assuming your baby was fathered by someone else.”

Pride caught her breath. He still thought she was lying. He still thought she’d slept with another man.