Читать книгу Daddy On The Doorstep - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 10

“What?” Andrea exclaimed. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the telephone.

When she lifted the receiver, Nick growled, “Can’t you even believe me about the stupid phone?”

Her cheeks flushed red, Andrea looked away from Nick as she hung up the receiver. They had never argued while they were married until the night before Andrea had decided to leave him. Then, as now, she’d expressed disbelief at something Nick had said.

“I just—it was a natural reaction,” she assured him and then hurriedly asked, “do you think they’ll fix it anytime soon?”

As if nature wanted to answer her question, a loud boom of thunder shook the house.

Nick gave her a sardonic grin. “Anything else you want to know?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes. What are we going to do?”

“Stay inside where it’s dry. We should be all right. Aunt Bess could feed an army at a moment’s notice. Even if the electricity goes off, we’ve got—”

“Do you think it will?” Andrea asked with a gasp, nervously looking at the overhead light.

“Andy, relax. If it does, we have oil lamps and firewood. No problem.”

His casual dismissal of their predicament irritated her. He’d accused her of overreacting when they’d argued. She hadn’t liked it then and she hated it now.

“Fine,” she snapped, and turned her back on him, crossing her arms over her chest. No problem? Even with all the electricity she wanted, she’d still be stuck here alone with Nick. If that wasn’t a problem, she didn’t know what was.

Feeling his stare on her, she whirled back around. “I’m going to find something to read,” she muttered without looking at him. Bess was a prolific reader and kept a lot of books around the house. Andrea needed something to take her mind off the six-foot-three bundle of trouble staring at her.

“I think I’ll take a nap, if you don’t need me,” Nick offered in return. “I’m still on Africa time.”

She risked a look and immediately noted the shadows under his eyes. Why hadn’t she seen them before? Probably because she’d been distracted by his body, she admitted to herself. And because she was afraid to look him in the eye for any length of time. Those eyes of his could mesmerize her faster than a rattler could lure an innocent rabbit to come closer.

“Fine,” she agreed, and entered the living room to search for a book.

Something was pulling her from sleep. Andrea shifted and banged her elbow into hardness. Funny, she thought fuzzily, what’s the wall doing there? Her bed wasn’t next to the wall.

Even as that thought came, she noticed the cut-velvet texture under her cheek and her eyes opened. Aunt Bess. She was at Aunt Bess’s house. And Aunt Bess was in the hospital and Nick was here.

With her.

She groaned and sat up, dislodging the book she’d been reading. Not that it had held her interest. She’d checked on Nick several times, enjoying the opportunity to watch him sleep, forbidden fruit as it were.

The urge to join him on the big bed had sent her scurrying back to the sofa in the living room. And her own eventual nap. She was so tired lately.

The deep shadows in the room caught her attention. Had the electricity gone off, as Nick had predicted? She quickly reached for the lamp and breathed a sigh of relief when it clicked on, sending shafts of light around the room.

Her watch read ten past seven, which explained the growl from her stomach. She got up and tiptoed to Bess’s bedroom. Pushing the door open only enough to peek in, she discovered Nick was still sleeping. Quietly, she retreated to the kitchen.

Though she was unsure whether Nick would join her for dinner or not, Andrea had no intention of being a martyr and skipping the meal. As Nick had said, Aunt Bess always had more than enough food on hand. After a quick survey, Andrea opened a can of soup and put it on to heat while she fixed some sandwiches from the fresh turkey she found in the refrigerator.

When everything was ready, she went back to the bedroom and pushed the door open slightly again. When it abruptly swung all the way back, she smothered a scream and jumped.

“Easy, there. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Nick said, though his look wasn’t an apology.

“I thought you were still sleeping.”

“Were you going to wake me?”

“I don’t know. I fixed something to eat, but I didn’t know if…if you were hungry.” She backed toward the kitchen, unsure what to do next.

“I’m starving,” he assured her, his gaze pinned on her face.

“It’s only soup and sandwiches.”

“Good enough.”

He took a step toward her and she turned and fled to the kitchen. Somehow she feared he might mistake her for his meal.

They ate in silence until Nick had finished.

“You’ve got a healthy appetite,” he observed.

Her head snapped up and she stared at him before looking away. “I always have,” she said mildly.

“True. But you didn’t always look like a waif with eyes too big for your face. What have you been doing to yourself?”

He continued to stare at her, and the turkey in her mouth tasted like sawdust. She swallowed before replying, “I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to eat?” he asked skeptically. “Everyone should make time for proper meals.”

Since he’d constantly missed dinner because of work, Andrea couldn’t believe her ears. “Is this the same man who called most evenings to say he’d grab a bite somewhere, that I shouldn’t count on him for dinner?”

He gave her a lopsided grin, almost an apology if she could believe her eyes. “Maybe I learned the importance of meals after what I had to eat in Africa.”

The reminder of how close she’d come to living in a world without him pierced her heart. She’d accepted that he wasn’t going to be a part of her life, but she couldn’t bear to think of him dead.

“Was it very bad?”

A low grumble was his first response. When she continued to watch him, he muttered, “Yeah. Eat your sandwich. You can’t afford to waste any calories.”

“Will you tell me about it?” It would be torture to hear what he’d suffered, but somehow she had to know.

“No. There’s no point in talking about it. Eat.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t wanted to talk during their marriage. His only interest had been in the bedroom. In the beginning, she’d been so swept off her feet, so overwhelmed by his magneticism, she hadn’t noticed how limited their relationship was.

Then he’d taken her to a company dinner. The stunning blonde who worked in accounting discussed business with him. Then they talked about sports, mostly the Chicago Bears. Two men joined them and expanded the conversation to hunting.

Andrea had stood there, realizing for the first time that she had no knowledge of Nick’s real life. She could tell the blonde what turned her husband on. She could share with the gentlemen what he said when he reached satisfaction. She knew what he liked her to wear.

But she didn’t know him.

They’d only been married a month, after a whirlwind courtship that was even shorter. Andrea set out to correct the difficulty. And found herself blocked at every turn. If she made plans for the two of them, Nick inevitably canceled. Work was too hectic; candlelit dinners ended with her eating alone.

Attempts at conversation either were dismissed because he was too tired…or because he wanted her. When she protested her loneliness, he offered her a bigger allowance and told her to join some clubs.

Most painful of all, when she’d asked about starting a family, he’d flatly refused.

“You’re not eating,” he reminded her, dragging her from her distasteful memories.

She abruptly stood. “I’ve finished.” Crossing to the sink, she dumped what was left of her sandwich in the trash and began rinsing the dishes. The kitchen was completely up-to-date, thanks to Nick. He couldn’t persuade Aunt Bess to move to Chicago, or to let him build her a new house. But she was terribly proud of her new kitchen.

“So, where are you living now?” Nick asked as he sat slouched at the table.

Andrea eyed his casual air, but she wasn’t fooled. “You already know.”

He didn’t move, but his gaze intensified. “What makes you think that?”

“Who else would deposit ten thousand dollars into my checking account?” When she’d gotten the deposit slip in the mail, she’d first thought the bank had made a mistake. But when she’d called, the bank officer had kindly explained that her husband had thought she might need additional funds in her separate account. He even assured her that if she needed more, any check she wrote would be covered by her husband’s bank in Chicago.

“I thought you might be strapped for cash. You didn’t take much with you.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

“I’m fine. I can return the money to you whenever you want it.” She might not be living in the lap of luxury, but she was managing.

“I don’t want the damn money,” he replied, straightening, his shoulders stiff.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she crossed to the table and reached for his dishes. In a flash he had seized her wrists, forcing her to stand still.

“Andy, why did you leave?”

Her heart beat faster as she debated her response. They’d had an argument, but she hadn’t decided to leave until after he’d left their penthouse, bound for the airport for another business trip. Like most runaways, she’d left a note.

“I—I told you in the note.”

“‘Our marriage isn’t working’? You think that’s an explanation for walking out? Hell, we were only married for six months!” His brows furrowed across his forehead and those devilish blue eyes glinted with fury.

She pulled from his grasp. “What do you care? You didn’t come after me or call me. You just went on about your business, leader of free enterprise, billionaire extraordinaire.”

He rose and Andrea took a step back. “Is that what your leaving was all about? You wanted me to come after you? To prove that I love you? Didn’t I tell you I love you? Can’t you accept my word? Do I have to—”

“No!” she replied sharply, interrupting his tirade. “No, that wasn’t what I wanted. I want a divorce. That’s all I want. You can keep your money.”

She turned her back to him and took a deep breath, hoping to steady her racing pulse. She needed to stay calm.

When he spoke again, his voice was even, as if he, too, recognized the need for control. “At the moment, you’re still my wife, Andy. I’m supposed to provide for you.”

“We’re separated, Nick. Just because I haven’t filed for divorce, yet…” She stopped because she didn’t want to discuss why she hadn’t filed for divorce.

“And you think by taking an apartment in Kansas City, getting a job with Robbins Interiors, buying a beat-up old car that can’t safely take you a block—”

“How do you know all that?” she demanded, surprised before she stopped to think. When she did use her head, the answer was appallingly clear. “You had me followed?” she asked, her eyes wide with dismay, her voice rising several octaves. How else would he know so much about her life?

“No, of course not!” When she continued to glare at him, not giving an inch, he muttered, “Just checked up on. You’re my wife, Andy. It’s my duty to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she assured him. Turning, she set his dishes on the cabinet and then walked to the door. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To watch the news on television.”

Bess had refused all Nick’s attempts to buy her a television, but he’d finally surprised her with one for her birthday two years ago. Though she complained about it a lot, she’d finally confessed to Andrea that she “occasionally” watched a soap opera. And then proceeded to relate every plot twist for the past two years.

Andrea switched on the set and checked her watch. She had at least an hour to kill before the ten o’clock news came on. Hopefully, there’d be some program worth watching.

As she flicked through the channels, she heard a step behind her.

“Mind if I join you?”

“You? I didn’t think you watched television.” She didn’t turn around, thinking that he might go away if she didn’t look at him.

“I don’t think I can make any deals tonight without a telephone or a fax, so I might as well relax.”

Unable to bear being close to him, afraid he might question her more, she swung around and tossed the channel changer to him. “Here. I think I’ll go to bed.”

He caught her arm as she rushed past him. “Come on, Andy. Sit down and watch television. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

And would he also promise not to touch her? Even as briefly as he held her arm, she could feel her blood racing, heating up. He had no interest in her, but she responded to his presence like a hound after a fox.

“I really don’t—”

“Andy.”

That one word, softly spoken, halted her protests. With a shrug, she tugged her arm away and walked back toward the television. But she didn’t sit on the sofa where she’d taken her earlier nap. No, she sat in the big chair, which was Bess’s favorite spot.

Nick settled on the sofa, his long legs stretched out across the coffee table. Reading the program guide, he gave her the choices for the next hour. One of the popular hospital shows was just starting, and Andy chose it.

The problems of a modern hospital were absorbing and entertaining until halfway through the show when a guest character came through the emergency door pregnant and in labor. Nick, who’d been relaxed and absorbed, shifted his position on the couch, and Andrea noted a frown on his brow.

Almost unconsciously she covered her stomach with her hands and turned back to the television. She watched the doctors reassure the woman and then confer in private about her chances of survival.

“This is crap,” Nick muttered. “How about a snack?”

“A snack?” she asked, distracted by the drama in front of her.

“Yeah. You don’t want to watch this stuff. It’s depressing.” He stood and took her hand to tug her to her feet.

“I want to see what happens,” she protested.

When she didn’t respond to his pull, he dropped her hand. “Fine. I’m going to the kitchen. Shall I bring you anything?”

“I’d like an apple and a glass of milk,” she said, turning her attention back to the TV.

He made a disgusted sound and left the room.

Following the plotline of the story, Andrea breathed a sigh of relief when the doctors were able to deliver a healthy baby with a promise of the mother’s recovery.

“Here. What happened?” Nick asked, returning from the kitchen.

She looked up in surprise to find Nick holding the apple and a glass of milk out to her. “She had her baby and everything’s fine. A little boy. See, there he is,” she said, pointing toward the television set.

Nick harumphed and sat back down on the sofa. “They shouldn’t use real babies. What’s wrong with those parents? Babies should be home, safe in their nurseries.”

“I think they have strict laws to protect the baby. And the money can provide for college later on.” She bit into her apple, enjoying the juicy crunch of it. “That’s not all bad. Besides, the show wouldn’t be as good if you didn’t get to see the pretty baby.”

“Babies are a lot of trouble.”

Andrea turned to look at him as he stared at the television, her heart aching. “I think a baby would be worth any trouble he caused.”

Somehow they’d never discussed babies before their marriage. She’d just assumed he’d want a family, as she did. When her parents died in a car accident, she’d become an orphan at an early age. She’d been in several foster homes until she got out of high school and was on her own.

With scholarships and some money from her parents’ life insurance, she’d made it through college, but she’d been lonely. In quiet moments, she’d dreamed of having her own family someday, someone to share the happiness and shoulder the pain together.

She kept her face glued to the television, not wanting to see any more rejection on his face.

Nick said nothing else and the program drew to a close. The news commentator asked them to remain tuned to that station for the latest update of the flood hitting the midwest and an up-to-the-minute weather report.

“Reporting the weather can’t be that difficult if the man can spell ‘rain,”’ Nick muttered.

“Maybe the forecast is going to change. If the rain stops, it shouldn’t take too long for things to get back to normal.”

“And what’s normal?” Nick growled. “You in Kansas City and me in Chicago?”

“We were talking about the weather, Nick.”

“I don’t want to talk about the weather. I want—”

“Shh! The news is starting. I want to hear it.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to concentrate on the television, but in reality, she was listening for another protest from Nick. But he surprised her and said nothing.

“Good evening. Thank you for watching. The midwest, Missouri and Kansas in particular, are experiencing the worst flooding in its history. The Mississippi River is twelve feet above flood level and the Missouri, which feeds into the larger river, is several feet higher. For more details, let’s go to our reporter in St. Louis, Jason Freed. Jason…”

Watching the ravages of the flood was heartbreaking. But it brought home to Andrea just how grateful she should be to be safe, with no loved ones threatened. She might not like being trapped with Nick for a day or two, but at least she was safe in Hubbard, Missouri.

When the focus of attention was switched to the weatherman, both she and Nick leaned forward. Unfortunately, the man didn’t have good news. While there was a lull in the storm at the moment, radar showed more rain on the way, for at least the next five days.

“Five days?” Andrea gasped, forgetting for a moment that she should be grateful.

“At least,” Nick added with a frown. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had a phone.”

A sudden idea struck her. “What about your cellular phone? I thought you carried it with you everywhere.” Her breathing quickened at the thought of their being rescued.

“I haven’t been back to Chicago since I left for Africa, Andy. When I heard about the floods, I came straight here from New York.”

“Oh.” No wonder he looked so tired. “Were you really kidnapped, or did you just get lost?”

He gave a smile that was more a bare movement of the lips than an attempt to indicate humor. “I was kidnapped.”

“Why?”

“An attempt to put pressure on the government. The group who kidnapped me wanted them to release some of their members who’d been imprisoned. They thought if they took an American businessman, the U.S.A. would force their government to act.”

“And did they?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I escaped and found some help to get me back to civilization.”

For the first time, she noticed the skin on his wrists. It appeared darker than the rest of his skin, as if it had recently been rubbed raw.

Reaching out, she ran a finger over one wrist until his hand grabbing hers awakened her to what she was doing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” he ordered her tightly. “It’s over.”

She pulled her hand free and nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, it’s over.” And so was their marriage, their life together. And she would bear the scars for the rest of her life.

Standing, she said, “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, also rising.

Because she’d hoped he would continue watching television a little longer, she stared at him, her eyes wide.

“You’re going to bed now?”

“Yeah. You want the bathroom first?” His tone was casual, as if such forced intimacy didn’t bother him.

Andrea wished she could show as much cool. But she couldn’t. With a nod, she rushed from the room.

A few minutes later she emerged from the bath to find Nick stretched out on Bess’s big bed, his hands folded behind his head. She fought to pull her gaze from his muscular length. “Sorry if I took too long.”

“Nope. It gave me time to warm the bed for you.”

She almost choked as she took in his words. “W-warm the bed for me?” Swallowing, she added, “I thought you’d want this bed. After all, Bess is your aunt. I’ll take the other bedroom.”

“I guess you haven’t looked in there yet,” he said nonchalantly as he sat up.

Foreboding ran through her. “No. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah. A leak in the roof.”

“Where?”

“Right over the middle of the bed. Lucky break, though. The mattress was ruined, but the carpet didn’t suffer. I dragged the mattress out to the garage and put a pot under the leak to catch the drip.”

Lucky break. Yeah, right. She gathered her scattered wits around her and turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find some blankets and make up a bed on the sofa.”

“I don’t see the need for that, Andy. After all, we’re not divorced yet. We can share this bed.”

He stood and walked toward her, but she knew, come hell or high water, and the latter was a real possibility, she wasn’t sharing a bed with Nick.