Читать книгу Having Gabriel's Baby - Kristin Morgan - Страница 7

As the bright morning sunlight poured in through the two-inch opening in the drapes of her hotel room window, Joelle Ames turned over in bed and groaned when a sharp, excruciating pain shot across her forehead from temple to temple.

What she wouldn’t have given in that moment for a couple of aspirin. In fact, after moving her head again, ever so slightly, she quickly decided that maybe she needed three of the painkillers, instead. Not to mention, a cold ice pack placed right at a certain spot on her forehead.

Obviously this, her last day of vacation in Acapulco, wasn’t going to be one of her better days. She had come here from her hometown of San Diego five days ago for a badly-needed rest and, since her arrival, had purposefully kept a low profile. In fact, she couldn’t understand what she could’ve possibly done last night that would warrant her having such a terrible headache first thing this morning. After all, since it was her last night of vacation, she’d simply gone to dinner with Gabriel Lafleur, the farmer from Louisiana who had somehow become her touring partner over the past few days. Sure, he was one sexy-looking man, and she had let herself relax for the first time in—What?—Years?—and enjoy his company. But that’s all it was. One night of fun. Now it was over with. She just wished her headache was, too.

If only she could’ve found the courage to pry open her eyelids, climb out of bed and walk over to where her luggage was to see if she had brought along any painkillers with her.

If only she could collect her thoughts.

But the truth of the matter was, it hurt too much for her to try to think straight right now. In fact, losing consciousness would’ve been a blessing at this point. Unfortunately, though, it was obvious that she wasn’t going to be given that luxury.

Suddenly a brief flash of memory from her actions last night crossed Joelle’s mind and she recalled herself dancing in a little, quaint, out-of-the-way cantina. And there was laughter. Lots and lots of laughter. And she and Gabriel Lafleur having a couple of shots of tequila at the crowded bar. At least, a couple. My goodness, she’d never drunk that much before in her life. Hadn’t the plan been to stop in for just one nightcap? Then what in the world had gotten into her to make her get so sidetracked?

Actually her recollection of last night was shaky, at best. It was as though the bitter pain in her head was deliberately blocking out her memory. What, she wondered, had she done between the time she and Gabriel had left the cantina and now? Maybe if she rang Gabriel’s room, which was two floors above her, he could fill in the missing pieces.

She groaned, again, this time after turning over and lying flat on her back. She’d never hurt this bad in her life. A second later she realized that she was completely naked under the sheet covering her—and an immediate alarm went off in her head. Uh-oh. She never slept nude. And she never drank too much, either. Something definitely wasn’t right.

Headache, or not, Joelle decided that it was time she faced the world and made sense of her surroundings. Rubbing her eyelids with the tips of her fingers, she finally found the will to force them open and stare at the ceiling in her hotel room. After a moment, she darted her eyes around the room. Exactly what she expected to find, she wasn’t sure. Then, just as her gaze fell upon a pair of men’s pants tossed across the back of a chair near her bed, the door to her bathroom swung open, and none other than Gabriel Lafleur, her dinner date from last night, stepped through it. His dark brown hair was wet and tousled, and he was naked except for the white towel that was wrapped around his waist. Joelle’s stomach did a flat-out bellybust dive for the floor.

As he strolled forward, his eyes lifted and met hers. Halting as though a steel wall had suddenly dropped down in front of him, he paused a moment before saying in a deep voice, “Well, good morning. I see you’ve finally awakened.”

Shocked speechless—not to mention, mindless— Joelle could only gape at him as her stomach tightened into knots. For a brief moment she thought the sudden wave of heat that swarmed over her and made her sick to her stomach would send her running right past him for the bathroom. As it was, the entire room seemed to fade momentarily before her eyes. She heard her own raspy intake of breath.

“Hey, come on, now. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” she heard him saying. It was enough to make her inhale deeply and, somehow, the room came back into focus.

By this time Gabriel Lafleur had already walked up to the foot of her bed and was now frowning down as if he halfway expected her to fall apart at the seams. She knew that look well. Her father always used it when he wanted to let her know that she’d somehow failed him, again. And, of course, according to her father, she was always failing him. In fact, if her father had had his wish when she was born thirty-one years ago, he would’ve been given a son to follow in his footsteps, not a daughter who seemed to falter every time she tried.

Joelle’s glare wavered momentarily. She felt vulnerable… naked…and mortified to the bone to have this man she hardly knew staring down at her and probably making snap judgments of her character— or, rather, her lack of it. Certainly he had no right to do that. After all, he hardly knew anything at all about her, other than the fact that she’d obviously made a huge mistake last night in thinking that he was a decent enough guy to have dinner with. Nonetheless, if he thought she was going to fall to pieces right there in front of him as if she was some weak little woman with no backbone, he was in for a big disappointment. She no longer gave her father the benefit of seeing her tears. Therefore, humiliated, or not, she wasn’t about to let this man see them, either. Instead she conjured up her best poker face and glared at him.

But, regardless of what she hoped was an Oscar winning performance on her part, the following moments grew increasingly difficult for Joelle. She stared in surprised defiance at Gabriel Lafleur…at his bare, lean, muscled chest, and at the way the dark curly hair at its center lay damp and matted against his tanned skin. Finally, having a will of their own, her eyes began following a drop of water as it slid downward, only to have it eventually soaked up by the hotel guest towel wrapped tightly around his slim waistline. Her throat felt suddenly dry…parched, and swallowing in that moment became difficult. Her eyes lifted to his and what she saw there made her realize that he was aware of her every thought. Finally, unable to deal with this reality for a second longer, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that when she opened them, again, he would be gone.

Obviously her father had been right about her all along. Obviously there was a part of her that was too soft…too womanly, to hold up under the pressure of a man’s world. Surely, if she had any strength of character at all, she wouldn’t be in such a humiliating situation.

Joelle knew her prayers weren’t going to be answered when she felt him touch her arm and say, “Hey, are you going to be all right?” The feel of his warm fingers on her flesh startled her. Her eyes sprang wide open, and they stared at each other as if they were two cat burglars who were suddenly surprised to discover themselves on the same rooftop.

Eventually Joelle found her voice. “Of course, I’m going to be all right,” she snapped.

“Thank goodness for that,” he replied. “About all I need this morning is to find myself at the mercy of a woman in tears.”

“What are you doing in my room?” Joelle demanded, although, in truth, she feared she already knew the answer to that one. She was just hoping like everything that her gut instincts were wrong. But, one thing she knew for sure. He wasn’t going to find this woman in tears.

“Well…” Gabriel Lafleur said, now grinning down at her with white, even teeth and the most clear brown eyes she’d ever seen. He had wide, full lips that, even in the stark brightness of morning reality, beckoned to be kissed. He had high prominent cheekbones and a squared-off jawline, and a nose that flared slightly wider at the end. In essence, he was six feet of pure, unadulterated male. “I was…uh…just making myself at home,” he said, politely. He acted as though being in her hotel room was seemingly of no consequence to him. At least, not like it was to her. “Look, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower,” he continued. “But under the circumstances, I didn’t think that you would.”

Joelle swallowed. “Uh…And what circumstances might that be?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking back up to his handsome face after lingering far too long on a lower, more private part of his anatomy. Thank goodness he still had that towel on. As much as some wanton part of her liked looking at every follicle inch of him, she wished that she could’ve just snapped her fingers and have him disappear from her hotel room.

His grin widened. “Don’t you remember?”

Joelle blinked. Twice. “Remember what?”

“What we did?”

Joelle’s heart hammered against her breastbone. “What did we do?”

His eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Joelle gripped the ends of the sheet covering her breasts and pulled it up to the base of her throat. “O-of course, I do. W-we had dinner together.”

“And…”

“And…uh…we stopped in at some lively little cantina for a nightcap.” Joelle felt quite pleased with herself for having been able to recall that much. At least he wasn’t going to think her a complete idiot.

“And then…” he said.

She stared at him blankly.

He stared back. A moment later he said, “See, it’s like I thought. You don’t remember, do you?”

Hesitating with her answer, Joelle continued to hold the ends of the sheet in a death grip while trying to force her memory from last night to come forward. But the only result was some additional pounding in her already throbbing head. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, don’t feel so bad. ’Cause I don’t, either.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Well…I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious that we came back here and spent the night together.” He paused then, long enough to give the impression that he was waiting on her to make a comment.

But Joelle had no comment at this point. As it was, having her mistake said out loud made her feel sick to her stomach, all over again.

Staring down at her, Gabriel Lafleur used his fingers to comb back his damp hair from his forehead. “Look, to be perfectly frank with you,” he continued, “my memory of what we did from the time we left the cantina until I awakened this morning in your bed is a bit hazy. I can only assume that neither of us recognized the numbing effect of the tequila we were drinking, and it just slipped up on us.”

“In other words, you’re saying we both got drunk.”

“Yeah,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “That pretty much sums it up.”

Once again, Joelle squeezed her eyes closed. “Oh, God, how could I have done something so foolish?”

“Look,” Gabriel said, “I just need to know one thing.”

Opening her eyes, Joelle exhaled deeply. “Like I just said, Lafleur, I don’t remember anything. And, quite frankly, I’d prefer to leave it that way.”

His gaze was challenging. “Yeah, well, that’s fine with me, Ames, except for one thing.”

Once more, Joelle exhaled deeply. Leave it to a man, she thought, to want to recall every nitty-gritty detail of their night spent in bed together. “What’s that?”

“Did we get married first?”

Clutching the sheet against her breasts, Joelle sat straight up in bed. “What?”

He looked her square in the face. “Did we get married last night before coming back to the hotel?”

“Are you crazy? Why on earth would we have done something like that?”

Gabriel Lafleur scratched the side of his head. “Hell if I know. But we’re both wearing dime-store wedding rings this morning. I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t wearing one yesterday.” Stunned, Joelle stared at him in awe as he suddenly tried to pull something from around his finger, but he seemed to be having a bit of difficulty getting it over his knuckle. “And,” he said, as he continued his efforts, “if I remember correctly, at some point last night you said that you wouldn’t sleep with a guy unless you were ready to have some kind of a permanent commitment with him.”

Dazed, Joelle lifted her left hand in midair and gazed at her ring finger as if it was a lighted firecracker ready to explode. But a moment later, she regained her equilibrium and simply slipped off the cheap-looking ring that she knew was sold by any street vendor in any vacation hot spot in the world. She placed it on the bedside table next to her as if it was no big deal. Which it wasn’t, of course. Still, her heart raced ahead like mad. As if she had just discovered herself running in a marathon and knew her life depended on her winning it.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Joelle looked back at him and tilted her chin a fraction higher. “Yeah— well, I can tell you right now, if you had the nerve last night to suggest that we sleep together, you can bet I said something like that to you. Look, I know what you must be thinking of me right now, but the truth is, I don’t happen to get drunk with men I hardly know. Nor do I sleep around.”

“Hey, you don’t have to prove anything to me,” he said. “But, regardless of what you say, it doesn’t change the fact that I remember us leaving the cantina together last night with the dumb idea in mind of finding someone to marry us. Hell, I just want to know if we succeeded.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Joelle grimaced. She, too, now vaguely recalled having done something of similar nature last night. But in the cold light of day, it was simply too farfetched an idea for her to actually believe it possible. Her memory was undoubtedly playing tricks on her. Or…or, maybe, Gabriel Lafleur had somehow set her up to make her believe what he wanted.

With renewed determination, she opened her eyes and glared at him.

“That’s ridiculous. I would never do such an inconceivable thing,” Joelle replied, stubbornly, butin spite of her efforts to convince herself otherwise— her heart was beginning to palpitate uncontrollably, because somewhere deep, down inside, the memory was growing stronger. “You’re making that part up.”

“’Fraid not.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you trying to tell me that we might’ve gotten married last night for the sole purpose of sleeping together?”

“’Fraid so. Or—so it would seem.”

“No way.”

“Lady, if I remember correctly, you were the one setting up the rules, not me.”

“Hey, now, look here. I can assure you, I didn’t coerce you into anything,” Joelle stammered.

“Well, neither did I,” he replied.

“I certainly didn’t come to Acapulco to find a husband.”

Gabriel’s hands went to his hips. “Well, I certainly didn’t come here to find myself a wife, that’s for sure, and I don’t like having to deal with this any more than you do. I’m only praying that we couldn’t find anyone to do the job and ended up just crawling into the sack together. It certainly would make things a whole lot less complicated this morning.”

Indeed, it would, Joelle thought. But, in spite of her initial reaction, a moment later she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the distinct thought of her having just crawled into bed with him. She had morals that she lived by, after all. Morals that had been pounded into her head since she was a child by a strict, disciplinarian father. But she didn’t owe this man a quick briefing of her character upbringing. Besides, what good would it do at this point?

Therefore, in order to hide her growing anxiety, Joelle continued to glare at him and said, “How can you not remember what we did last night?”

He shrugged. “The same as you, I guess. Too much tequila.”

“Oh, God,” Joelle said, making sure that the sheet she held against her continued to cover her nakedness as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and planted her feet on the floor. She hung her pounding head in the palm of one hand. After all that had gone wrong in her life lately, she couldn’t believe that this, too, was happening to her. “This is awful,” she groaned.

Gabriel Lafleur placed his hands on his hips and sighed heavily. “Yeah—well—believe me, I know exactly what you mean.”

Then, in almost the same breath, he said, “Listen up. It seems to me that if we got married last night, then we ought to have some kind of proof—right? I mean, like a marriage certificate—or—or, something.” He turned away from her suddenly, stepped up to the dresser where a few of her personal belongings were on the top and began rummaging through them, searching, no doubt, for some kind of proof. Coming up empty-handed, he turned once again and targeted Joelle with those clear brown eyes of his. “Well, don’t just sit there. Get up and help me look, for heaven’s sake. You said that you didn’t want this to be happening any more than I did.”

The frustration in his voice was enough to spark Joelle into action. “I don’t,” she replied, haughtily. She stood immediately and began searching her hotel room on her own, scanning tabletops…the floor… under the bed. She found her panty and bra, and Gabriel’s tie and Jockey shorts. All four items were hiding beneath the quilted bedspread on the floor at the foot of the bed. She found her white poet’s blouse and the navy blue straight skirt she’d worn to dinner last night thrown on the seat of the chair where his slacks were. With each piece of clothing she found, it became clear to her that both of them had apparently been more than eager to shed their clothes and climb into bed together—with or without the benefit of marriage—and, as a result, her face grew redder and redder with embarrassment. And right along with her renewed embarrassment came a whole new set of memories from last night. Distinct, clear images of her and Gabriel kissing in the elevator as it had taken them up to her floor. And there was another jarring memory of him carrying her across the threshold. Like they were married. And, of course, there was the one of them making love on her bed…

In fact, her memories were now so tantalizingly frank in their recollection of what she and Gabriel had done together, Joelle found herself breaking into a cold sweat as she reached for her shoulder-strap purse that hung on a door knob. She began searching its contents. In truth, she didn’t want to recall the sensuous details of having been in his arms any more than she really wanted to find a marriage certificate declaring them as husband and wife. After all, she’d already made one mistake by getting drunk and sleeping with him. Why compound the problem this morning by hoping to find proof of a marriage that neither of them wanted?

“Find anything?” he asked, coming up right behind her. Her stomach bottomed out.

“Uh…not yet,” she replied, curtly. She could smell the clean freshness of the soap he’d used while showering. Suddenly feeling the need to place added distance between them, she stepped to one side and turned. “How about you?”

“Not yet,” he replied. Joelle noticed that his eyes dropped momentarily to where her hands held the sheet over her breasts and, once again, her stomach quivered.

Joelle gave him a scathing look. Considering that he was wrapped in only a towel, he really had some nerve to look at her as if she was the only one undressed.

Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s probably a good thing. Look, maybe it means that we decided not to get married, after all. Or, maybe we just gave up on the idea because we couldn’t find anyone qualified to perform the ceremony.”

“Maybe,” Joelle grumbled. “But, unfortunately, I don’t think my luck these days is running that high. Considering our inebriated state, we could’ve gotten married and then simply lost the document on our way back here.”

Gabriel frowned, and Joelle could tell from the expression on his face that her theory wasn’t at all to his liking. Well, it certainly wasn’t to hers, either.

Still, she wasn’t quite ready to give up all hope of finding a simple resolution that would allow them to part company without worry or fanfare. Surely one of them would find something to jar their memory and, hopefully, give them both some badly needed peace of mind. With that in mind, Joelle proceeded to check the zipper compartments of her purse, but she found nothing. “Did you look through all your pockets?” she asked.

“I checked my pants. I haven’t found my shirt, yet.”

“Here it is,” Joelle stated, using her middle finger to pick up his wrinkled white dress shirt off the floor by its collar. She turned in his direction and offered it to him. As he reached for it, his eyes met hers, and he smiled.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Look, Joelle, about last night…”

“Forget it. It was as much my fault as it was yours.”

“Yeah…well, that’s not exactly what I was going to say.”

“Oh.”

“Look, I…uh…about the sex…I mean, it was great you know.”

Joelle thought her insides would turn inside-out. Yes, she knew, but she didn’t want to know. “Uh, look, I don’t really remember any of it, okay?” Liar. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Hey, whatever you say,” he replied, shrugging lightly.

Joelle glanced up and their gazes locked. Within moments, though, she realized her mistake in thinking she could handle such a battle of wills with him and she shook herself. What, in heaven’s name, she wondered, did she think she was doing, gazing up at him that way? Here the two of them were, alone and practically strangers, with one of them wrapped in a bath towel, and the other in a bed sheet. Was she completely crazy, or just a glutton for punishment?

She took several steps away from him. He gave her a haunted look as he reached into his shirt pocket and came out a second later with a white folded piece of paper held tightly between his two fingers. Joelle’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s that?” she asked, breathlessly. She was at his side in a flash.

“I don’t know,” he said, releasing an anxious breath. He started to carefully unfold the piece of paper, only to discover that it was just a regular sheet of white, lined, loose-leaf paper. But written on it in a sprawling, amateurish handwriting were yesterday’s date and the words: Gabriel and Joelle, I now pronounce you man and wife. Signed, José Cuervo.

José Cuervo was the brand name of the tequila they had drunk last night.

Dazed for several moments, neither of them spoke. Finally, Joelle couldn’t take the deafening silence another moment. “What does that paper mean?” she asked in a whispered voice. It was as though if she spoke too loudly, the entire world would know her most recent sin.

Still staring down at the piece of paper in his hands, Gabriel Lafleur didn’t answer her. Finally she nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Lafleur, I need you to answer me. What does the note mean?”

“Hell, if I know,” he grumbled, suddenly crumpling up the piece of paper in one hand and tossing it like a basketball toward a nearby trash can. It fell inside like a dead ringer, and he said, “Bingo. See, now we’re off the hook. It’s in the trash.”

“Are you sure?” Joelle asked, still somewhat stunned from just awakening and finding Gabriel Lafleur in her hotel room, much less the rest of it. She sat down on the edge of the bed in the hopes of giving herself a moment to pull herself back together.

“Look,” he said, turning toward her and placing his hands on his hips. Joelle found herself following his every move. He had such wide, sensuous-looking hands.

Those hands had made love to her body last night.

Over and over, again.

She was breathless at the thought of it.

Swallowing hard, Joelle flicked her eyes back up to his. “What were you saying?” she asked.

“I was saying, surely you saw for yourself that piece of paper wasn’t anything legal. No minister or government official would’ve given us a handwritten note like that.”

“I know that. So, what’s your point, Lafleur?” Joelle stated.

“My point is, that piece of paper doesn’t prove anything. Certainly it doesn’t prove that we’re married.”

“I understand perfectly. But who could’ve written it?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he replied. “Any person on the street, for all I know.”

“Then, it wasn’t you.”

“Me,” he said, sounding surprised. “No, of course not.”

Then he narrowed his eyes. “Was it you?”

“Dream on,” she replied, and for the first time since awakening that morning, she actually considered laughing.

“Well, was it?” he asked, skeptically, and suddenly Joelle realized that the man was actually serious.

“No,” she answered.

“Well, in that case, we’re back to square one. We still don’t know what we did last night.”

Suddenly, recalling something very critical in her plans for that day, Joelle gasped. “Oh, my God! What time is it?”

Gabriel glanced over to where his wristwatch lay on a bedside table. “Almost eleven-thirty.”

“Oh—my goodness. How could I be so dense? I must be losing it. My flight back home to San Diego leaves in less than an hour—and I’m not even dressed, yet.”

She raced to where her luggage sat, all packed up and ready to go—thank goodness—and picked up the outfit folded on top that she planned to wear today. “Do me a favor,” she said. “Call a cab and have them waiting for me at the entrance to the hotel in ten minutes.” Within seconds of saying that, she was closing the bathroom door behind her.

Minutes later she emerged, showered, dressed and ready to go. At first she thought that Gabriel Lafleur had skipped out on her and the whole messy ordeal— which she quickly decided would’ve probably been the best way to end this nightmare. But, unfortunately, though the weakening in her knees proved she actually felt otherwise, she saw him a second later, standing at the window with his back to her. He was now wearing the same dark gray pants he’d worn last night.

Without comment, Joelle quickly gathered her personal effects that were still on top of the dresser and dumped them into her cosmetic bag. Then picking up a piece of her luggage in each hand, she cleared her throat in the hopes of getting his attention. Like he hadn’t already heard her rummaging around in the room. He turned around to face her with his hands in his pockets. “I’m leaving now,” she said.

She saw him take in a deep breath. “Look, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say at this point.”

“Then don’t say anything,” she replied. Her heart was galloping around in her chest as if it were a wild, caged stallion.

A lopsided, sheepish grin slid up one side of his face. “But I feel like I should say something. I feel like I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Lafleur. I’m a big girl.”

“Somehow I feel that this is all my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Look, it just happened, okay? So let’s be modern thinking adults about this and just get on with our lives.”

“Hey, if you can live with it, then I sure can,” he replied. “It’s just you seemed to be upset earlier, so I was trying to make you feel better.”

Joelle sighed deeply. Truthfully she didn’t know if she was ever going to be able to live with herself, again, but, at the moment, she saw that she had no other choice than to try. “Look, for my own peace of mind, once I get back home I plan to have my attorney look into this matter and see if he can come up with anything. If he does, then I’ll give him the okay to resolve whatever problem we may have created for ourselves.”

Gabriel nodded his head. “That’s probably a good idea.” He walked to the bedside table where his wristwatch was, picked up a notepad and pencil and jotted something down. “Here,” he said a moment later, tearing off a sheet. “This is my telephone number just in case your attorney needs to get in touch with me.” He shrugged. “You can never tell.”

Joelle hesitated only a second before taking the piece of paper from him and stuffing it inside a pocket of her purse. Then, pulling out one of her business cards, she gave it to him. “Just in case,” she said.

“You never know,” Gabriel replied.

“True,” she said, and for some reason she felt breathless. “I guess we just as soon make this as easy as possible on ourselves.”

“I agree.”

Joelle turned for the door.

“Hey—Ames,” he said in a softer tone of voice. “Wait a minute.”

Pivoting around to face him, she lifted her eyebrows in question.

“What do you think? Did we actually get married?”

The question startled her and, for a brief moment, Joelle had no idea how to answer it. But, at the same time, it immediately brought a few things into focus for her. For one thing, she wasn’t going to part from this man and have him worry that perhaps she would show up at his doorstep one day, saying they were husband and wife and that he owed her something. He didn’t owe her anything.

Gabriel Lafleur didn’t know it, of course, but in her everyday life, she was a fully dedicated career woman and was quite capable of taking care of herself under any circumstances. “I—uh—no, I honestly don’t think we did.”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment of hesitation, “that’s what I think, too.”

“Goodbye, Lafleur,” Joelle said. “Have a nice life.”

“Goodbye, Ames. Take care.”

Then, in spite of a sudden heaviness at the center of her chest, Joelle took a deep, steadying breath, turned and hurried out the door.

She knew it would be the last time she would ever see Gabriel Lafleur again.

And though she hated to admit it, a small part of her regretted it.

It was so silly of her, she knew. Nonetheless, it was true.