Читать книгу Just For Christmas - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

HOPE LOGAN GLANCED at her wristwatch, then out the open door of the gift shop to the main waiting area of Maitland Maternity Clinic. Noon hour had cleared most of the personnel from the building, but she didn’t have to wonder if her husband would be in his office. As the vice president of finance, Drake was a busy man who rarely took time to eat a sandwich at his desk, much less leave the building for a leisurely meal.

Hope had to see him today. She couldn’t put it off any longer. But she dreaded walking into his office. Since he’d moved out of their home two months ago, she hadn’t asked him for anything. And she wasn’t at all sure how he’d react to her request. But good or bad, she was soon going to find out.

She glanced over her shoulder at her young assistant, who was arranging a row of teddy bears on a display shelf. “Can you handle things for a few minutes, Tess?”

“Sure, Hope. Take your time.”

Time. The word stayed with Hope as she left the gift shop and walked across the quiet waiting area to the elevator doors. For the past several months, she’d felt each tick of the clock as it chipped away at her fertile years. At thirty-two, she wasn’t getting any younger. Yet she was no closer to having a child of her own than she had been at twenty-two. The miscarriage she’d suffered had risked her life, and Drake refused to consider another pregnancy. Not only had she lost her baby, but her husband, too. She shook the depressing thoughts from her mind. Right now she had a more immediate problem to deal with.

On the second floor Hope headed down a long corridor until she reached a door with a gold nameplate that read Vice President Drake Logan.

Even though she’d walked slowly, her heart was pounding. She breathed deeply and prayed she would appear calm and in control once she was facing her husband. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was crumbling without him.

When Hope entered the office, Juanita, Drake’s longtime secretary, was busy at a computer. She hit several buttons on the keyboard before she glanced up to see who was standing beside her desk.

“Hope! How nice to see you!”

Hope gave the older woman a rueful smile. “How are you, Juanita?”

The secretary folded her hands on top of her desk and gave Hope her full attention. “I’m doing well. I’ve missed seeing you these past few weeks.”

In a nervous gesture, Hope pushed a hand through her hair. “I’m still running the gift shop. I’m here in the clinic every day.”

Juanita’s smile was full of concession. “That’s not the same as you dropping by the office for a visit.”

The older woman’s keen black eyes took stock of Hope’s pale face and loose-fitting clothes. In spite of the brave front Hope tried to present to her friends, everyone in the clinic knew she was grieving over her separation from Drake. Everyone except Drake, she thought sadly.

“You’ve lost weight,” Juanita said gently.

Hope gave a negligible wave of her hand. “I needed to. My clothes were getting too snug. This way I’ll have plenty of room to eat for Christmas.”

She glanced across the small room to the closed door leading into Drake’s private office. At this moment she’d rather venture into a den of lions. “Is he busy?”

Juanita smiled wryly. “Some things never change. But at least he’s alone. Go on in,” she urged.

On shaky legs, Hope left the secretary’s desk and crossed the expanse of carpet to Drake’s office. His deep voice immediately answered her brief knock.

“Come in.”

Opening the door, Hope stepped inside the all too familiar room with its comfy leather armchairs and shelves of books and mementos. Drake was behind his desk, and for a moment she said nothing, letting her eyes drink in the precious sight of him.

Even now, after all the pain he’d put her through, she still had to admit he was the most impressive-looking man she’d ever known. Thick, light brown hair lay in unruly waves above his ears, long enough in the back to tease the top of his collar. A wayward hank was always falling forward onto his wide forehead, which was more often wrinkled in a scowl than a smile. Sandy brown brows and long lashes framed a pair of eyes as green as a tropical sea.

His face was lean and angular, his lips full and well defined. The strong lines of his nose and cheekbones belied a trace of Choctaw blood, handed down through his father’s side of the family.

Hope had always considered Drake’s features a bit too rugged to call him classically handsome. But coupled with an athlete’s body and a strong masculine presence, his looks were positively potent. So potent that the sight of him never failed to stir Hope, even after ten years of marriage.

“What is it?” he asked, not bothering to look up from the file he was studying.

“I need to talk to you, Drake.”

At the sound of her voice, Drake’s head jerked up. As his startled gaze collided with hers, he slowly closed the manila folder and lowered it to the desktop.

“Hello, Hope,” he said blandly.

Since Drake had moved out of their home, Hope had barely spoken with him. They’d had to put on a good front at the wedding of their friends, R.J. and Dana, and both had attended the Maitland family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Unlike Hope, Drake didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from their separation. His trim body looked just as fit as ever.

Trying to ignore the painful longing pouring through her, she returned his greeting.

“Hello, Drake.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desktop. Hope’s gaze followed the movement of his broad shoulders beneath his pinstripe dress shirt.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said frankly.

She pressed her dry lips together and silently prayed once again for her heart to slow its frantic pace. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than fainting in front of Drake. He’d think he was the reason. And he’d be right.

“I’m sure you are.”

Her short reply put a twist to his lips. “Are you going to keep standing there by the door or are you going to sit down?”

If she had a choice, Hope would rather remain by the door, away from him, but given the purpose of her visit, that would make her look ridiculous.

Taking a seat in one of the cordovan leather armchairs, she forced herself to cross her legs and ease back as though seeing him again was no more unusual than chatting with an old friend.

“So what’s brought you up here today?” he asked. “Do you need more money?”

Inwardly she flinched. Drake had always believed money and things were important to her. But he was the one who’d been brought up in a wealthy family. He was the one accustomed to having most anything he wanted. Not Hope. All she’d ever wanted was a family. Someone to love. Someone to fill the void she’d experienced growing up without anyone except an irresponsible mother.

“I’m not here for financial reasons. We both know you’ve made sure I have plenty of money,” she reminded him, trying to hide the deep resentment she was feeling.

A frown of frustration marred his features. “Then what do you need, Hope? I have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Megan and Ellie. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

She wanted to remind him that he’d kept her waiting for months now, but her throat was suddenly so tight she didn’t know whether she could continue to breathe, much less speak.

“I need you, Drake.”

THE SIMPLE WORDS were not what Drake had been expecting to hear, and for a moment he felt as if someone had whacked him in the middle of the chest.

As he tried to regain his breath, his gaze covertly slid over the luscious sight of her. Hope was just as beautiful now as she had been ten years ago when she’d become his wife. Her honey-blond hair was thick and straight and swished against the top of her shoulders. Her skin was as creamy and luminescent as a pearl. And her lips. He didn’t want to think about their sweet fullness, any more than he wanted to think of her long legs wrapped around his, her soft, slender body urgently pressed against him.

“Hope, we’ve been through this argument so many times we might as well be two voices on a tape recorder saying the same things over and over,” he said wearily. “It’s senseless to keep beating the issue to death. I haven’t changed my mind about us trying to have a child. I’m not going to change it.”

Anger flashed briefly in her blue eyes and at the same time her chin lifted with pride and a hint of defiance. “I’m not here to discuss my desire for a child, Drake,” she said curtly.

Drake’s brows lifted with guarded suspicion. “Oh. Then why are you here? To tell me you’ve realized the risks of what another pregnancy might do to you?”

His question caused her lips to compress to a grim line. “I know what the risks are, Drake. You’re the one who can’t get past—”

She broke off and quickly glanced away from him. Drake didn’t urge her to finish what she’d been about to say. He didn’t want to hear it, much less think about it. He’d spent this whole year trying to forget how close she’d come to dying.

Releasing a heavy breath, he picked up a pencil and unwittingly tapped the end against the manila folder lying before him. “So you haven’t given up on the idea of being a mother. Have you made any progress with your plans to adopt?”

Her gaze skittered to him, and for a moment, the shadow of pain he glimpsed in her eyes tore at him like the angry whip of a briar bush.

“I still have my name on a list of adoption agencies. But they all tell me it’s a slow process.” Determination squared her jaw. “But I’m not giving up, Drake. I won’t ever give up wanting a baby.”

Drake was careful to keep his disappointment hidden as his senses continued to drink in her classic beauty. After being without her for two long months, having her this near was both precious and painful.

He rose from his chair and moved around to the front of the desk. Folding his arms over his chest, he stared at her. “Okay, so you’re not here because you’ve changed your mind about having a child. And you don’t need more money. Maybe you’d better tell me exactly why you are here?”

Drake could see anger simmering beneath the surface of her blue eyes. He wasn’t surprised. These past few months, any little thing he said seemed to set her off.

“Don’t speak to me as if I’m one of your business associates, Drake. I am still your wife, even if we don’t live under the same roof.”

His nostrils flared as he skimmed his gaze over her flushed face. “Do you think I’ve forgotten that?”

“I think you’ve forgotten a lot of things,” she said tightly. “Or maybe you just never knew them to begin with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dear God, don’t let me lose control now, Hope silently prayed. She was here to help little Stevie, and she couldn’t do that by pushing Drake even further away from her.

She drew in a calming breath, then shook her head. “Nothing. Forget that. I didn’t come up here to argue with you, Drake. Far from it.” Her gaze slipped to the sculpted line of his lips, and yearning instantly sprang up inside her. “I’m here to ask you to come home.”

Stunned, Drake stared at her for long moments. Then, muttering an oath, he crossed to the other side of the room, where a wall of plate glass looked over the sweeping drive leading to the clinic. Outside it was a cool winter day in Austin, and the trees were as bare as his heart.

“Hope, I don’t know why you’re doing this to me. You’ve already said you haven’t changed your mind. And I still feel the same. What could possibly be gained by my coming back home? We’d only wind up hurting each other more than we already have.”

Tears stung the back of Hope’s eyes, but she fiercely fought them away. Weakness was the last thing Drake needed to see in her. He had to know that nothing he could say or do would break her determination.

“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Drake. But—”

Her words halted as he suddenly whirled, his face dark with anger.

“Don’t try to act as though you’ve been thinking of my needs or wants these past few months,” he rasped. “Because we both know what’s been on your mind, and it sure as hell hasn’t been me!”

Quickly, Hope rose to her feet and crossed the room to where he stood. “All right,” she said quietly. “Blame everything on me if you must. I don’t care if you want to paint me the villain. None of that matters right now. I’m not even asking you to come home for my sake.”

Drake was trying his best to digest her words, but it was a hard thing to do when his attention kept slipping to the dove-gray sweater clinging to her breasts, the long black skirt slit up her calf. He knew every inch, every sweet curve beneath her clothing, and he was aching to touch her, taste her, bury himself in the warmth of her body.

“Then why?” he asked hoarsely. “Why do you want me to come home? You think us being back together will improve your chances for adoption?”

If adopting a baby was the only choice she had, she would gladly snatch it. But Hope was still fairly young, and she was healthy. Her deepest desire was to have her husband’s baby, but if not his, then she had to believe there was some man out there who would be glad to give her the family she wanted.

“Whatever you might think of me, Drake, I would never use you—for any reason.”

The trail of his suspicious green eyes was like a red hot torch sliding over her body. She tried to ignore it, but heat was rapidly flushing her cheeks.

“Then why ask me to come back? I don’t—”

“For Stevie,” she interrupted.

Drake’s expression went blank. “Stevie?”

“Yes. Your sister’s son. Denise called a few days ago and asked if I’d be willing to keep him from now until the New Year while she and Phillip are in Europe.”

“Europe!” he burst out. “What the hell are they doing going there? The last time I talked to her, she was ready to divorce Phillip and move to Houston.”

Hope clasped her hands in front of her—mostly to keep from touching him. “Apparently, she’s had a change of heart. They’ve decided to spend some time alone, away from everything, to try to work out their differences.”

Drake shook his head with disgust. “Denise doesn’t know what the hell she wants! And God knows, she should never have had a child. From the time he was born, she’s done nothing but shoulder that little boy off on someone else!”

The last time Hope had seen Stevie, had been a year ago. He’d been five then. A kindergartner with toffee-brown hair, a smattering of freckles and a frail little body. But it had been his eyes that had stayed with Hope. Somber brown eyes without a flicker of joy or laughter to light them.

Denise and Phillip had come to Austin to attend a blues concert and had dropped the boy off at Hope and Drake’s house, expecting, more than asking, them to baby-sit. During his brief stay, Hope had tried her best to make friends with her nephew, but he’d remained a closed book. Since then, the memory of his sad little face still had the power to haunt her.

She nodded in agreement. “That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t refuse. I don’t want Stevie hurt any more than he already has been by his parents’ neglect.”

He glanced at her sharply. “Then why didn’t you insist they take the boy with them? That’s where he needs to be. Not with me. Or you.”

A sigh escaped her as she pushed one hand through her hair. “I know the boy isn’t my responsibility. But it was obvious just by talking to Denise that she’s in no better shape to care for Stevie now than she ever was. And as for Phillip, I never considered him to be father material. But then I don’t suppose Denise ever pressed him to be a dad to Stevie.”

“Why would she?” Drake snorted. “She doesn’t want anything interfering with their social life in Dallas.”

His voice was full of bitterness, and Hope knew he was thinking about his parents. His father had died three years ago from a sudden stroke, and his mother two years before that from a lingering illness, but even with them gone, Drake was still deeply affected by their lack of love and interest in him. Like Stevie, he’d been raised by nannies and placed in one boarding school after another until he was eighteen and on his own at college. He knew all too well what it was like to be neglected and cast aside, and she could only pray he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to his nephew.

“I’m sure Denise and Phillip are both to blame,” Hope said. “But right now I’m more concerned about putting some normalcy back in Stevie’s life while he’s here in Austin.”

Drake frowned. “I don’t see where you need me to do that. The boy has rarely laid eyes on me.”

Hope raised a hand in protest. “He doesn’t know me any better than you. We’re both going to be strangers to him. And he’s going to feel frightened and abandoned. That’s why we need to try to give him a sense of security.”

Drake wearily wiped a hand over his face. “I agree the boy needs security, Hope. But I can’t see us giving it to him. We don’t even have our own house in order!”

“Okay, so we don’t. But we can pretend. That’s all I’m asking, Drake. Just for one month while Stevie is here.”

His brows puckered with confusion. “What are we supposed to pretend? That his parents really do love him? A child knows when he’s loved and when he isn’t. It would be cruel to mislead him.”

She glared at him. “Do you have to be so harsh?”

He sighed. “I’m not being harsh, Hope. I’m being realistic. I can’t help it if you don’t like the truth.”

She didn’t know why his attitude should hurt her. Drake had never been one to sugarcoat anything for any reason. He expected people to face facts, no matter how painful they were. But these past two months without him had been living hell for Hope. Her emotions were raw, and his words were pouring salt deeper into the wound.

Tears were once again scalding the back of her eyes. She blinked and swallowed, then looked away from him before she could manage to speak.

“I don’t want you to—” She stopped, shook her head, then swallowed again. “When I said we could pretend, Drake, I was talking about us. You and me. All I’m asking is that you come home for a month. And make believe you love me.”

Pretend. Make believe. Dear Lord, Drake thought, he didn’t have to do any of that. He loved Hope more than his own life. He always had. She just couldn’t believe it. She thought he was a selfish bastard. And maybe he was, Drake admitted. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

When he didn’t say anything, Hope stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm. It had been too long since she’d touched him, and the feel of her left him trembling inside.

“It’s December, Drake. Christmas is coming. You know how important that is to a child.”

As a young boy, Drake remembered it being a special time for his friends. But not for him. He’d dreaded the holidays. His parents had never failed to fill the house with people he didn’t know. He was relegated to his room upstairs while the parties went on and on. Christmas morning, he and his sister were given a generous hour downstairs to open their gifts, and then the two of them were packed up to their rooms to spend the rest of the day with their nanny. But somehow the worst for Drake had been when he returned to boarding school and heard the stories of his friends’ holidays. Their fathers had played football with them, or taken them fishing and horseback riding. Their mothers had let them help bake Christmas cookies and decorate the tree. Drake hadn’t known what any of that was like, and he’d felt an outsider.

The bitterness of those memories was reflected in his voice when he spoke. “I’m not the right person for the job, Hope. I’d end up making the kid more miserable than he already is.”

Her fingers tightened on his arm as she shook her head. “If I believed that, I wouldn’t be up here right now. I wouldn’t be asking for your help.”

It amazed Drake that even after this separation, she still believed he could be a father. She was like a blue heeler who wouldn’t give up until the last cow was penned. And suddenly he wondered if a month with the three of them together was exactly what Hope needed to make her see just what a rotten father he would make. Maybe then she would realize their marriage could and would survive only if she put the idea of having a child behind her.

“If you’re worried I’ll try to keep you there once Stevie goes back to boarding school, I won’t,” she hurriedly promised. “You can return to your apartment and everything can go back to the way things are now.”

“When is Stevie coming?” Drake asked.

Something in his voice sent hope flickering through her heart. “I have to pick him up at the airport in the morning. Tess is going to run the gift shop for me tomorrow.”

Today was Thursday. He had one more day of work before the weekend. But Drake made his own hours, which were usually far more than what the Maitlands expected of him. He could take off long enough to go to the airport with her.

“I’ll move my things back tonight. Will you be home?”

Hope was suddenly so weak with relief, her legs threatened to give way. “Yes,” she said, then in spite of everything, she had to smile at the small miracle that had just happened. “I’ll be home.”

The joy on her face stabbed Drake right through the heart. Making his wife happy was all he’d ever wanted to do, and he’d tried hard to see that she’d had everything she needed or wanted. But it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. And he’d be a stupid man to believe the smile on her face was because of him.

“I’ll be there,” he said, then pulling his arm free of her fingers, he stepped around her and headed out the door.