Читать книгу The Family They Chose / Private Partners - Gina Wilkins, Nancy Robards Thompson - Страница 11

Jamison climbed the stairs toward the master bedroom. It was Christmas, for God’s sake. He couldn’t let her go to bed mad. He hated that things had digressed to this point. Before he went to bed he had to try and apologize, because the last thing he wanted was to leave for Washington with things like this. They were supposed to be gaining ground in their relationship, not losing it.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, he thought he heard a voice—Olivia’s voice. Was she talking to someone?

Her tone was light and happy—a bit giddy, in fact—though he couldn’t make out what she was saying until he got to the door and heard her say, “I have to see him as soon as possible. If not, I think I’m going to die.”

See who?

He resisted the urge to eavesdrop and rapped lightly on the door. It wasn’t just the way Olivia flinched when she turned and saw him standing there, or the way she stiffened when he walked in, but it was the way her voice changed that gave him pause.

“I have to go,” she said. “I’ll talk to you soon.” With that, she abruptly ended the call.

They looked at each other for a moment. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to offer any information, he asked, “Who was that?”

“Nobody.” She spit the word too fast, stood too quickly and crossed to the bed, aimlessly smoothing wrinkles from the comforter.

“Nobody?” His tone was a little sharper than he’d intended, but something was up. She wasn’t talking to nobody. “It sounded like somebody to me.”

She ducked her head, refusing to look him in the eye. He fought the urge to cross to her and take her face in his hands and force her to look at him. He’d never been a suspicious man, but then again, his wife had always been very open and sharing. They’d never harbored secrets. This definitely smelled like a secret.

He heaved an exasperated, full-body sigh that was laced with anger and resentment.

She must have sensed his mood.

“It was Paul.” Her words were flat with a terse edge. “He called to wish us a Merry Christmas.”

“He called? I didn’t hear the phone ring.”

She squinted at him, shooting poisonous darts with her eyes. “He and Ramona called earlier and left a message while we were at your mother’s house. I returned their call. Any other questions?”

Yes, he had question, such as how she could be so light and giddy one moment and then turn so cold and guarded when he walked into the room. And who was this man she so desperately needed to see?

Jamison knew his wife well enough to sense that something wasn’t quite right. Something that stretched beyond the baby issue. Something that she wasn’t telling him. Even though he might not get it out of her tonight, he’d find out eventually … one way or another.

At seven o’clock the next morning, Olivia and Jamison sat at the dining room table eating poached eggs on whole wheat toast, which Olivia had prepared. A peace offering after the run-in last night. Actually, it was an olive branch after a reunion that had more closely resembled a train wreck than the rekindling of the relationship they’d both wanted.

She tried to keep her mood light. She shouldn’t have been so defensive last night, but she wasn’t sure how much he’d heard after surprising her while she was talking to Paul, who’d told her that Chance Demetrios was indeed in town this week. Jamison had walked in as Paul was explaining that Chance had planned to use the week while the institute was closed to catch up on some paperwork. Paul had promised to have Chance call her as soon as possible.

Jamison was quietly subdued this morning, and as each minute passed without him asking questions or flat out telling her what he’d heard, she relaxed a little more, allowing herself to believe that her plan was still securely in place.

She hated keeping secrets from him. Frankly, she wasn’t used to doing so and obviously wasn’t very good at it—as evidenced by her defensive display last night, when she was tired and emotionally drained.

Now that she was rested, it was sinking in that Jamison’s having to return to Washington this morning might actually be a blessing in disguise. With her husband away, she wouldn’t have to lie to him about her decision to pursue the in vitro fertilization on her own.

Rather than looking at it as a lie of omission, she chose to think of it in terms of asking for forgiveness later rather than asking for permission right now.

“Breakfast was delicious, as always,” Jamison said after he swallowed the last bite. “I’ll try to get home by New Year’s Eve. I’ll call you tonight and let you know how things are shaping up.”

Olivia nodded and sipped her herbal tea. “That sounds like a plan.”

He smiled at her and reached out and covered her free hand with his. “You do know how much I love you, don’t you?”

The earnestness in his voice tugged at Olivia’s heart, and when she looked at him, the depth of emotion in his blue eyes nearly took away her breath.

“Yes, Jamison, I do. And I love you, too.”

He leaned in, and his lips brushed hers. A whisper of a kiss so unexpected, it made her stiffen and brace her hands against his chest. But then, like sweet ice cream melting in the heat of the sun, she softened and kissed him back, slowly at first.

His mouth tasted of grapefruit juice and coffee and that indefinable flavor that was uniquely him—something for which, she realized suddenly and desperately, she’d been hungering—no, starving—for far too long. She didn’t want him to stop. So she slid her arms around his neck and opened her mouth, deepening the kiss, and fisting her hands into his shirt, pulling their bodies closer.

Maybe he’d changed his mind and would stay with her in Boston rather than going back to D.C. The thought made her heart pound. On one level, she relished the feeling of being alive again, having her husband touch her and respond to her touching him back. Yet on a deeper plane, she sought refuge in the shelter of his arms, their kisses healing the hurt they’d both suffered during their time apart.

At that moment, she knew that they would be okay. They had to be. Because there was no alternative. Plain and simple, she simply couldn’t imagine life without him. She intended to tell him so by leading him up to the bedroom, but the ringing phone preempted her physical love note.

“That’s probably the driver,” Jamison whispered. “Wow, he’s early.” He kissed her again, trailing his lips down her neck, but even that didn’t stop the incessant ringing. Finally, holding her, his forehead pressed against hers, he sighed. “I hate it that I have to go. I’m sorry. It’s not what I planned.” He gathered her hands in his. “Would you mind answering and telling him I’ll be right out?”

Olivia answered the phone on the fourth ring, just before it switched over to the answering service.

“Hello?”

“Good morning,” said a deep male voice. “May I speak to Olivia, please?”

“This is she.”

“It’s Chance Demetrios. Your brother, Paul, asked me to call you this morning about setting up another appointment.”

Olivia’s heart slammed against her breastbone.

She glanced toward the kitchen door for signs of Jamison, then lowered her voice and started walking toward the office where she could close the door and not risk her husband overhearing. “Thank you for calling, Dr. Demetrios, especially since the institute is closed for the holidays.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m working through the holiday. I noticed that your file indicates that we called and ultimately sent you a letter several months ago asking you to come in for further tests. Did you receive that letter?”

Olivia swallowed a twinge of guilt. “Yes, Dr. Demetrios, I did. For a while, we were thinking of delaying starting our family, but that’s no longer the case. We’re ready to move ahead.”

“Wonderful,” said Demetrios. “If you’re available, I can see you tomorrow.”

“That would be lovely. I must apologize for not following up sooner.”

“Well, I was reviewing your file a moment ago and I think I may have some new insight to what is causing your problems.”

Olivia’s heart leaped. “Does that mean you know how to fix what’s wrong with me?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Olivia couldn’t tell if that meant the doctor had good news or bad.

“We’ll need to run some more tests, but we can do that and talk about it tomorrow when you come in.”

After wheeling his bag into the living room, Jamison came back into the kitchen to kiss his wife goodbye. She wasn’t there.

“Olivia,” he called. “I have to go, the car’s waiting.”

No answer.

He fought back a surge of impatience. Calm down. Things had finally started getting back on track. He didn’t want to ruin it now. But where had she disappeared to, knowing that he had to leave?

Rather than stew over it, Jamison decided to signal to the driver that he’d be out in a moment. Maybe by that time Olivia would reappear.

Yet when he opened the front door and looked out into the impossibly sunny cold morning to busy Commonwealth Avenue, the car wasn’t there. Perplexed, he stepped back inside and closed the door. Then, as if driven by a sixth sense, he followed his intuition down the hall to the study. He stopped outside the door when he heard Olivia talking in hushed tones.

“That sounds absolutely perfect,” she said. “But may I call you back? I can’t really talk right now.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang. The car, no doubt. Jamison walked soundlessly down the hall so that Olivia wouldn’t see him and ducked back into the living room.

When she finally joined him a moment later, he patted his pockets. “I think I forgot something. Would you tell the driver I’ll be right out?”

“Sure.”

Jamison went into the spare bedroom where he’d spent the past two nights, picked up the phone extension, and pressed the record for the caller ID log.

The name that appeared was Chance Demetrios. The doctor that she’d seen only once—or at least only one time that he was aware of.

All sorts of questions raced through his mind: Why was he calling her now? Was this the man who, last night, she’d sounded so anxious to see?

Feeling threatened on a number of levels, when he got to the front door, Jamison pulled Olivia into a tight embrace—and again he kissed her as if he really meant it.

So what if he was being territorial. He had good reason. He loved her and he couldn’t stand the thought of her keeping secrets from him or worse yet, turning to another man when she should be confiding in him. He’d given her too much space. Been too busy. Too wrapped up in work, his thoughts focused firmly on the future presidential election. Even so, he still hoped she’d turn to him before she ran to someone else. Even if the man was her doctor.

It was a shame it took something like this to remind him that they belonged together.

His lips found her earlobe, her jaw, her neck and he trailed possessive kisses down to her collarbone. He knew he had to stop. The driver was waiting and if he didn’t stop now, he’d sweep his wife up in his arms and take her upstairs to their bed and prove exactly how much he loved her, like he should’ve done the minute he got home on Christmas Eve.

“Jamison, you’d better go,” she said breathlessly, breaking the contact.

She slid her hands from his shoulders down his arms and took his hands in hers.

There they stood, face-to-face, eye-to-eye—and the words just slipped out.

“Who was on the phone?”

Just like that, her face shuttered again, closing him out. Her eyes held the mysterious darkness of kept secrets.

“No one.” She stepped away from him, opened the front door. The cold winter wind blew in, cutting him down to the core of his body.

“Well, I heard the phone ring and it wasn’t the driver. Was it a wrong number? Your sister? The Salvation Army?”

She looked at him as if he was crazy. For a desperate, furious moment he felt he was stark, raving mad.

“None of the above,” she insisted. “You’re going to miss your flight if you don’t go.”

He looked at her closely. “You’re keeping something from me.”

“No, I’m not.”

The protest came a little too quickly and fervently. The shuttered look on her face made it difficult for him to read her. That’s why he was so taken aback when she reached up and cupped his jaw in her hand.

“I love you, Jamison. You just have to trust me, okay?”

Trust her? When she’s obviously keeping something from me? Even so—

“I love you, too. Please don’t ever forget it, okay?”

He gave her one last hug before he walked down the red brick steps and got into the car. As soon as the vehicle pulled away, he took out his BlackBerry and dialed Cameron McInerney, his aide.

“Good morning, Cameron. I need you to do a background check on a Dr. Chance Demetrios of Boston. Hire a P.I. if you need to. I want to know everything about this guy, every move he makes.”

Jamison hung up the phone and slid it into the breast pocket of his coat. He stared out the window at the tall buildings of downtown Boston. It was his home, but this morning it felt so strange.

Soon enough he’d know if Dr. Demetrios was, indeed, no one, as Liv claimed … or if he was someone that Jamison needed to be concerned about.

Either way, he intended to discover exactly what his wife was keeping from him.