The Soldier's Baby Bargain (5 page)

“I still want you, Faith. I think it’s only fair to tell you that.”

She started, shocked by his bold statement. She stared out the window to her neat, attractive ranch house, trying to gather her thoughts. It was hard with him stroking her skin and what he’d just said echoing around in her brain. She reached wildly for the threads of logic spinning around with a vortex of doubts and desire.

“You’re just saying that because you’re confused about the baby,” she said.

“You said I was saying it last time because I was confused about Jesse’s sudden death. When are you going to believe that I’ve always found you attractive, Faith?”

She looked at him in alarm.

“I never would have done anything while Jesse was alive. That’s not my style. I know it’s not yours, either,” he said in a low, compelling voice. “The truth is, I didn’t allow myself to think about it very much. You were another man’s wife. Off-limits. I wouldn’t even call my feelings toward you attraction. They were respect. Admiration. I liked you a lot.”

She stared at him, her throat and chest feeling full—achy. She couldn’t look away from his stark, handsome face.

“My feelings for you would have stayed in that holding pattern if circumstances hadn’t changed. But they
did
change. You discovered Jesse wasn’t faithful to you.”

“I was filing for a divorce at the time he was killed,” she said, shocking herself.

Ryan’s expression tensed. His caressing fingers paused. “You were?”

She nodded. A tear spilled down her cheek. She was angry at Jesse for his infidelity. Furious. So why did guilt still rear its ugly head inside her when she thought of the fact that she’d been planning on leaving him when his life was cut unexpectedly short?

“I told him that I planned to divorce him when he admitted to his affairs with both Melanie and that other officer that worked at the airport. He was so upset about the divorce. He never told you?” she asked shakily, searching his face.

“He never said a word about you two breaking up,” Ryan said. His flat expression told the absolute truth. Jesse had kept the impending end of their marriage to himself. Maybe he’d hoped she’d change her mind. He might have died with that secret. The realization caused a pain of regret to go through her. She shuddered. Damn these hormones. Since her pregnancy, she cried at the drop of a dime. Suddenly Ryan’s arms were around her. She clutched on to his shoulders and wept.

“It’s just...you knew Jesse. He was like a kid at times. I know he wasn’t capable of being faithful. I know I wasn’t meant to be his wife. But I cared about him.”

“I understand,” Ryan soothed, stroking her back. “Maybe he wasn’t capable of being faithful to you, but I do know that Jesse cared about you, too.”

“I hate to think of him dying, knowing that I was leaving him,” Faith managed between bitter tears.

“I’m sure he was feeling regretful about having hurt you.”

That made her sob harder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her arms and back. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. No, it’s true. I suppose some people would feel vindicated that he felt guilty on the day he died, but I think it’s just...”

“Terrible,” Ryan finished for her. “I understand.”

“Do you?” she asked wetly, leaning back slightly in order to see his face. His features looked like they’d been carved from rock in the dim lights emanating from the dashboard.

“Yeah. I think we both know that while Jesse might not have been ideal husband material, he was a good guy in a lot of other areas of life. It’s got to be hard for you, thinking of him dying knowing that he’d done you wrong.”

“Exactly,” she whispered shakily.

“It’s still not your fault, Faith. You didn’t do anything wrong. You had every right to file for divorce once you learned he’d cheated on you, not once, but several times. It’s just that life took a rotten turn in the interim, and Jesse was killed. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I know,” she said weakly. She touched the side of his neck along his hairline. His hair was a pleasure to her fingertips—crisp and soft at once. “I’m always telling myself I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wish I hadn’t told him about the divorce when he was about to...”

Ryan shook his head, his face now rigid with compassion. “You’re not all-seeing.” He cradled her jaw gently. She went still, utterly aware of the intimate contact. “Death is the same way. You can’t beat yourself up for things you don’t have any control over. All we can do is take what we’ve been given and make the best of it.”

His breath was warm and fragrant against her upturned lips and nose.

“I want to make the best of
this,
Faith—for whatever is happening between you and me,” he said, his voice like a rough caress. “Part of me feels guilty for making love to you last Christmas Eve, but I’m tired of apologizing for it, sick of beating myself up about it. How can I apologize when it felt so damn good...so damn right?”

And suddenly his mouth was covering hers, warm, firm and once again, Faith was lost in the sensual storm that was Ryan.

Chapter Four

N
o one kissed like he did, Faith thought dazedly. His mouth felt like it was made to fit hers. He plucked at her with movements that struck her as languorous and demanding at once; he sandwiched her lower lip between his and bit at the sensitive flesh lightly, making her gasp. When she opened her mouth, he slid his tongue between her lips, a sleek, sensual invader. Ripples of pleasure cascaded down her spine.

He made a sound of male gratification as he tasted her, sweeping his tongue everywhere, exploring her...possessing her. Faith responded in the only way her muddled brain and buzzing body seemed to know how to respond to Ryan’s sensual assaults—wholeheartedly. She tangled her tongue with his, absorbing his flavor, feeling their kiss in the very core of her being. She’d noticed that pregnancy had made her body extra sensitive, her sense of smell and taste more acute, her breasts plagued by a dull, not unpleasant ache.

Adding Ryan to the formula only seemed to amp up her sensitivities to a whole new level of feeling.

She tightened her hold on his hard shoulders, pulling herself toward him, pressing their upper bodies together. Feeling her breasts press against the solidness of his chest made her moan softly into his mouth. As if electrified by the sound, Ryan leaned into her further. His hands moved along the side of her body, molding his palms over her rib cage as if he wanted to feel her heartbeat. He touched the sides of her breasts and gave a low, tense moan, deepening their kiss. Pleasure rippled through her, the strength of it shocking her. Even through her coat and clothing, his caress had the power to make her forget her inhibitions and recall her elemental femininity all too well.

A shock went through his body. They broke apart. He cursed a second later when his thigh hit the gearshift.

“Are you all right?” Faith asked anxiously.

“Yeah. This just isn’t an ideal location for this,” he muttered, trying to arrange his long body in the seat. What
this
actually meant penetrated Faith’s lust-befuddled consciousness.

“It’s not the ideal
situation
for it, either,” she said starkly, leaning back, breaking their contact. She stared out the front window, letting her arms fall to her sides, regretting the loss of Ryan’s hard male body almost as much as she did the feeling of his hands sliding off her torso. She breathed deeply, trying to find some sanity. One second they’d been pressed together too tight to slip a match between them, and the next, they were separate...

...alone.

She suffered through a tense moment of silence before he spoke.

“Just because the situation is unusual doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

She couldn’t help but give a bark of hysterical laughter
.
“
Unusual?
Don’t you think you’re stating it a bit mildly? I’m pregnant with my dead husband’s friend’s baby, whom I hardly know. I’d say that’s a bit more than unusual. Ryan? What are you doing?” she asked in amazement when he unfastened his seat belt and reached for the door handle.

“I’m walking you to the front door. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling the latch. He glanced back at her. She saw that his features were tight with regret. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t know how many times I can say that without sounding like a fool or a liar.”

Faith shut her eyelids and took a deep breath to restore her calm. “I’m okay, Ryan. I’m not upset.” She opened her eyes and regarded him. “You have to admit, though...this whole thing is awfully strange.”

“Strange, maybe,” he conceded, swinging his long legs onto the driveway. “Not awful, though. Far from awful.”

* * *

Later that night Faith lay in bed wide awake, her hand curved protectively over her belly, staring blankly at the ceiling. What was she going to do about Ryan’s decision to move to the area? Did she have a right to do or say anything? Didn’t he have a right to be near his own child, if he chose?

What was she going to do about him
period?

Despite her anxious thoughts, her errant brain kept returning to that kiss in the car. She’d learned at Christmas that logic and kissing Ryan did not go hand in hand. For the past three months thoughts of that night would sneak up to plague her during the dark, quiet hours when she had nothing else to distract her from them. In the interim of Ryan’s absence she’d almost convinced herself that what had happened on that night was an aberration of memory. Surely Ryan’s kiss couldn’t be that wonderful, his touch that powerful.

But now he’d kissed her again, and she could no longer deny the truth.

The first part of that visit on Christmas Eve had gone reasonably well, Faith recalled. At first she’d been aware of a certain tension in the air upon seeing Ryan so unexpectedly for the first time in two years. He hadn’t been given a leave of absence to attend Jesse’s funeral, so she hadn’t seen him then. Every time she’d met with him before, it’d been within the safety of a large gathering...within the security of her marriage.

Faith hadn’t fully realized until later that evening, however, that the thick tension between them on Christmas Eve had been of the sexual variety.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have served him a glass of her spiked Christmas punch? It’d be convenient to blame what happened later that night on alcohol consumption, but Faith suspected very strongly that Ryan had been right when he’d said the experience felt unstoppable, Christmas punch or no.

She vividly recalled how stunned and pleased she’d been when he’d called that night and said he was nearby.

* * *

“This is wonderful,” Faith said when he entered the house, bringing a brief blast of cold winter air with him. “What are you doing back in Michigan?”

“I’m visiting my sister, Mari,” Ryan said, his gaze dropping over her robe-covered figure regretfully. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I should come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Come with me to the kitchen. I have some punch left over. I’ll get us a cup and we’ll talk.”

“Jesse used to say your punch had more juice than an F-15.”

“The way he used to drink it, he was right,” she said, smiling as she glanced back at him.

He chuckled. “I don’t want to be any bother. I’ll stop by another time...if that’s all right,” he added cautiously.

“Of course it’s all right, but you’re not a bother now. I was only going to bed because I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“Were you here alone?” he asked when she flipped on the kitchen light. She did a double take when she saw the concerned expression on his face.

“I wasn’t alone. I went over to a friend’s house—she’s my office manager, actually.”

“Oh, yeah. Jane, right?”

She paused, stunned. “How do you know about Jane?”

He shrugged. “Jesse used to read me your letters.”

She blushed and glanced away.

“Not...not
all
of them, just portions,” he hurried to say. “I hope you don’t mind. Entertainment on a deployment is kind of scarce, but warmth and affection from a loved one is an even rarer commodity.”

“So you shared some of Jesse’s?” she murmured.

“Not in a weird way or anything,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable.

She laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I don’t take offense. There was nothing in my letters that couldn’t have been read on the base announcement system, anyway. I just tend to ramble on in my letters like a crazy woman.”

“I liked them. You’re a good writer. You could get published, telling all those stories about your practice. Some of them were really funny. I could sense your personality through your words.”

“Thanks,” she said, both flustered and flattered.

“So...you were with Jane tonight?”

“Yes,” she said, swinging open the refrigerator. “She has a huge family. Half the people there assumed I was a long lost cousin. It was nice,” she said, pulling out the plastic-covered large bowl she’d used to transport the punch.

“Really?” he asked pointedly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, twisting her chin to look over her shoulder.

“I was at a family gathering tonight, where I was the outsider,” he admitted, stepping closer and closing the refrigerator door for her. “I was at my sister’s in-laws’ family gathering in Harbor Town. I’m glad you felt like you belonged. Personally, I felt the urge to run a couple times, but I was there at my sister’s request.”

She paused in the action of removing two cups from the cabinet. “Well...maybe I did exaggerate my comfort level with Jane’s family a little bit. Still, it’s nice not to be alone. On Christmas.”

“Yeah. Now we can not be alone together,” he said, smiling.

Their gazes stuck. She realized she’d frozen in her task. She hurried to fill their glasses.

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up a moment later when he took a drink.

“Jesse wasn’t exaggerating. Now I get why they call it
punch,
” he said, blinking.

She laughed. “We’ll keep it to one glass, but we could use some Christmas cheer, right?”

“Right.”

She smiled and turned and replaced the bowl in the refrigerator.

“Merry Christmas,” she said when she rejoined Ryan a moment later, holding up her glass.

“Merry Christmas.” They watched each other over the rims of their glasses as they drank.

“I’m sure you have plans for Christmas,” she said after they talked a while. “But I hope you’ll consider yourself invited here, if you have any free time. I’ll make a nice lunch or dinner for us. And your sister and her family are invited, too, if they’d like to come.”

“That’s very generous,” he said slowly. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Jesse used to say you didn’t know a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger,” she said, smiling. “I feel like I know you as well as some people that I see every day of my life.” The full awareness of what she’d just said—of how much she’d meant it—seemed to soak into her brain slowly. When it fully penetrated, she’d looked at Ryan cautiously, her breath stuck in her lungs.

He stared at her. Black lashes emphasized eyes that were so dark brown they verged on black. She would have thought eyes that color would be cold in appearance, but Ryan’s shone with warmth.

With heat?

She spilled a little of her punch on her robe when she stood too abruptly. Ryan sprung up almost as rapidly. She laughed awkwardly as she wiped away the red liquid with her hand.

“Clumsy,” she muttered under her breath. Now her hand was all sticky. “Uh, excuse me...I just need to...”

“Faith?” he called when she rushed over to the kitchen sink and turned on the water.

“Yes?” she asked, glancing around to see he’d followed her and set his half-empty glass on the counter.

“You don’t feel like a stranger to me, either.”

She stared, her mouth partially opened in amazement at his stark declaration.

* * *

His deep voice seemed to ring in her head three months later as she lay in bed. Faith kept telling herself to stop remembering—reliving—every detail of that night. She told herself to forget.

The problem was, part of her rebelled against that very idea. Part of her clung on to the memories of feeling so alive...so cherished. He’d made her feel so special, made her so aware of her femininity, made her prize again what Jesse had found replaceable.

Part of her treasured the memories of Ryan, and that part was only growing since he’d come back into her life. That realization worried Faith.

It worried her a lot.

* * *

She was in the process of doing Saturday morning chores when she heard a car door slam. Her heart lurched against her breastbone when she peeked out the window and saw Ryan’s car in the driveway. He’d said that he’d stop by again today, but she hadn’t expected him so early.

She dropped the curtain and glanced at herself in the vanity mirror. She’d washed her hair this morning, but hadn’t styled it. It’d dried into a wild riot of curls, which she’d restrained in a low ponytail at her neck. She wore an old pair of low-rise jeans and a simple white T-shirt. The shirt was a lot tighter than she ever remembered it being before, and the jeans kept slipping down her hips while she worked, resulting in her newly expanding belly protruding over the waistband.

A brisk knock resounded down the hallway. Topsy charged to the front door, yipping ferociously the entire time. Panicked, Faith flung open her closet and grabbed an old flannel shirt. She hurriedly slipped it on, and then hitched up her uncooperative jeans. She grabbed Topsy before she opened the front door.

Ryan stood there in the sunshine holding a toolbox. His dark hair fluttered in the spring breeze. He wore a pair of well-fitted jeans, brown work boots and a dark blue thermal shirt with a T-shirt beneath it. He pretty much epitomized the sexy tool man that every female with a healthy pulse on the planet would love to invite into her house.

She mentally rolled her eyes at the errant, ridiculous thought and opened the screen door for him.

“Is this a good time?” Ryan asked.

“Er...a good time for what?” she wondered, her gaze running over the line of his slightly whiskered jaw and well-shaped mouth.

His lips tilted ever so slightly.

“To fix your back door. Unless you had something else in mind. I’m flexible.”

Faith realized his gaze had dropped. She’d tried to close the flannel shirt over the revealing T-shirt, but Topsy had wiggled her way into the opening, parting the material. Her nipples prickled beneath Ryan’s warm glance. Heat rushed into her cheeks.