Читать книгу A Vow, a Ring, a Baby Swing - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 10
ОглавлениеChapter Two
Never say never, Rosie thought. Steve Schafer had finally noticed her.
If only it had been for her ravishing beauty, to-die-for body and irresistible charm instead of her shocking announcement. With all her heart, she wished that she could take those words back. Why in God’s name had she blurted out her news like that? Her excuses lined up like ducks in a row: shock and hurt and anger, mixed with a down-and-dirty desire to shake him out of that damn complacency he wore like a pair of sexy jeans.
And fear. Terror had pushed the words out of her mouth.
She’d had the situation under control. She’d planned to marry Wayne and give her baby a name and a father. She’d been determined to make the best of their relationship. She would have made it work, too. But her well-meaning family, with Steve’s eager cooperation, had raced to her rescue. Now she was out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Above all, Rosie did not want anyone else to know she was pregnant. At least not yet. But she knew she’d get more secrecy from a tabloid reporter than Steve. He’d been dispatched by her mother to take care of her; he would feel obligated to report that she was going to have a baby.
There were two reasons she didn’t want them to know. Number one: she was afraid the shock would send her mother back to the hospital with another heart attack. Number two: she didn’t think she could stand to see the hurt and disappointment on her parents’ faces when they found out their only daughter had messed up so badly.
No. She had enough to handle without taking that on just now. Since she couldn’t rewind and edit, she had to do some serious damage repair. But how?
“You’re pregnant?” he said finally.
“Gotcha!” She pointed at him as she tried her best to grin, the last thing she felt like doing.
But turning it into a joke was all she could think of to do. How else could she make him go away? She needed to deal with the fact that her fiancé hadn’t loved her enough to resist her family’s meddling. Surprisingly, she didn’t feel as if she was going to fall apart, but lately she couldn’t tell. Her hormones were pretty whacked out. If she decided to have a good cry, she wanted privacy. The last person on earth she wanted to witness her breakdown was Steve Schafer.
“You’re trying to tell me that was a gag?” he asked. He didn’t believe her.
“Okay, it’s not very funny. I’m not in an especially good mood. Put yourself in my shoes. How would you feel if I sabotaged your wedding?” Did he know she was lying? She was no match for the man who put the “cyn” in cynical. He could see through anyone. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The look of pity on his face at the chapel had nearly been her undoing. If he knew about the baby, there would be a mega-dose of that expression and she would rather walk naked into a hailstorm than see it again.
Tension crackled between them and Rosie couldn’t stand it. “Next time, stay out of my life when my mother asks you to do her dirty work.”
Something crossed his face. A shadow. He almost looked guilty. Well, he darn well should. She was pregnant and not married. Thanks to him she never would be.
He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the cherrywood desk, looking far too comfortable, as if he were settling in for a heart-to-heart. A long time ago he had turned his back on her, given up his claim to soul-baring chats. He didn’t need her, and she would never need him again. Lord, she wasn’t feeling well. If her stomach decided to rebel, a frequent occurrence of late, she would never get rid of him.
“I’m not going to argue with you, Steve.” How could there be arguing when she was the only one talking? The fact that he didn’t rise to her bait and bicker back was immaterial, irrelevant, and completely unimportant. Not to mention frustrating and annoying. “Actually, I’d like you to leave. Go back to my mother and tell her ‘mission accomplished.’”
“I plan to go. But not without you. I have two plane tickets for Los Angeles, and we’re going to use them. Right after we have lunch. It would be a shame to waste this food.”
“You eat. I’m not hungry.” Why was he still trying to feed her? She folded her arms against her increasingly agitated stomach.
“You’ve got to have something. Since when do you turn down a meal?”
“Since I got stood up at the altar. A broken heart tends to put a girl off eating.”
He tensed. “I wish there had been another way. You know I hate this as much as you do.”
He really did look sorry. In fact, he looked terrible. Tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days. She pushed. the thought away. She’d give the man no quarter, no sympathy.
“You couldn’t possibly feel like I do.” He wasn’t pregnant. And if he was, not only would it be a miracle, but there were any number of tall, leggy blondes who would drop everything to make an honest man of him.
“I wish things could have been different, squirt.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He looked apologetic, an expression just this side of feeling sorry for her. If he went to the pity place she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions. No jury of her peers—girls from interfering families who’d paid off a fiancé—would convict her for any mayhem she decided to wreak upon his decidedly hunky person.
“Why don’t you try to eat? I got your favorites.” In a single fluid motion he straightened and lifted the metal dome from one of the plates on the room service tray beside him. “Steak, potatoes au gratin, asparagus.”
She sniffed and her stomach lurched. Brought down by the smell! She put a hand over her mouth and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door. It didn’t take long to get rid of the small amount of breakfast she’d been able to choke down. When she was steady, she rinsed her mouth out.
She was staring at her chalky-white face in the mirror when Steve knocked on the door.
Her humiliation was complete.
“Ro?”
“Go away.”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Go away.”
“Can I come in?”
“No. Go away.”
The door opened. He took one look at her face, quickly but gently sat her on the side of the tub, and then wet a washcloth. He sat next to her and started to bathe her forehead and the back of her neck.
Even though she had ordered him out, she admitted to herself that the warmth of his body, the support implied by his actions, felt good. Too good. As much as she hated to admit it, this was more consideration than Wayne had given her since she’d told him about the baby. But at least he’d agreed to marry her. Now she had to get used to the fact that she was on her own. Thanks to Steve. She had to make him leave.
And she would. Real soon, she thought with a sigh as her eyelids drifted closed while he pressed the wet cloth to her forehead. “What part of ‘go away’ did you not understand?”
“When’s the baby due?”
Her eyes snapped open and she pushed his hand aside. “What baby? This was just nerves, delayed shock—”
“Look, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, Rosie.” He rested his wrist on his thigh and let the damp washcloth hang from his fingers between his widespread knees.
“And that means—what?”
“Wayne told me you were going to have a baby. I thought he was lying to get more money out of me. You really are pregnant, aren’t you?”
She met his blue-eyed gaze for a few seconds, then nodded miserably.
He put his arm around her, ignoring her token resistance as he drew her closer to his side.
She rested her cheek on his solid, comforting shoulder, torn between wanting to push him away and needing to stay there forever.
“Before you ask, it’s Wayne’s baby,” she said.
“I wasn’t going to ask.” He hesitated, then tensed. “Do you want me to find him? I’ll—”
“No way.” She pulled away from the security, shelter and warmth of his arms and stood. Retreating from him, she leaned against the sink. “It’s just too pathetic. I wouldn’t marry a man who took money from my family to break us up.”
“Okay.” He stared at her for several moments, then asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I thought I figured that out.” She had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. “Now I’m not sure. Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I want this baby.”
He nodded.
“I’m having it.”
“All right.”
“When my mother had her heart attack, she thought she was going to die. She told me how much she regretted not being able to see her grandchildren.”
“She didn’t mean for you to—”
“I know.” She folded her arms across her waist. “I know. And she wanted me to be married. I didn’t plan this, Steve. It was an accident. Sometimes things happen. Life throws you a curve. You can duck, or you can lean into it.”
“You’re going with it.” He wasn’t asking a question.
“I want this baby,” she said again.
He nodded. “When are-you due?”
“Six months.” She knew what was going through his mind. Why hadn’t she made plans to marry Wayne when she’d first discovered the pregnancy? That was none of his business.
But instead he asked, “Isn’t morning sickness supposed to be over by now?”
She shrugged. “Marchettis never do anything halfway.”
He nodded absently as he studied her. He was still sitting on the side of the tub. His intense gaze rested on her abdomen, assessing her for proof of the baby’s existence. She felt like roadkill, but outwardly there was no sign. And she would know. Every day she looked in the mirror at her almost-flat tummy. Part of her couldn’t wait to see how she would look, know what the baby’s initial tiny movements would feel like, experience a good solid kick for the first time.
There was another part of her that hoped no one would notice for a decent length of time. By then she would have been married to Wayne and no one would have started counting back the months. Even if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered because she would have had a husband. And the baby, a father. It had been a lovely fairy tale, one she realized that her shallow fiancé would have destroyed pretty quickly. But if Steve hadn’t been so eager to take orders from her mother, at least the baby would have had his father’s name.
After her parents, her brother Nick would take this news hardest. He had always been protective of her. Steve, too. His gaze lifted from her tummy, past her breasts, to her lips, where it lingered for a moment before he looked into her eyes. She saw an expression—something sad?—that made her want to wrap her arms around him. Before she could name the emotion, it was gone. Just as well. More than once she’d been accused of trying to mother the world. In a matter of a few months, she would be a mother for real. She needed to focus on her baby. His welfare came first.
“Six months isn’t very long.” Steve stood and let out a long breath. He ran a hand through his hair, then checked his watch. As he walked out of the bathroom he said, “The sooner your mother knows about this, the better. Are you packed? We’ve got a plane to catch—”
“You go ahead,” she called after him.
He poked his head back in. “What?”
“I’m not going home.”
Steve stared hard at her as he struggled to tamp down his frustration. Even more than before he wanted to get her to her mother. He wanted the peace and serenity of the Marchetti family cabin in the San Bernardino Mountains. He wanted to forget his part in this mess.
He cursed Wayne for the umpteenth time. If he hadn’t been world-class scum he wouldn’t have taken the bribe and everything would be fine. But the weasel’s cheerful greed had made Steve’s dirty mission easy. He wished for five minutes alone with the jerk right now. But Rosie’s fiancé was gone. Steve’s work here was done. It was over. He could leave. All he had to do was take one of those plane tickets and split—out the door. Hit the road. As quickly as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. No way could he walk out on her. Not now.
Her pregnancy changed everything.
The situation had all seemed so simple when he’d left Mrs. M. It was all about getting Wayne out of Ro’s life.
Rosie’s baby put a one-eighty spin on everything. She was angry at her family right now. But she needed them. Somehow he had to convince her to go home to her mother. But the stubborn expression on her pale face told him he was in for a rough sell.
“If you don’t go home, what will happen to your business? You have to get back to that. It’s even more important now, with—” He made a vague gesture in the general direction of her stomach.
“A child on the way?” Her mouth turned up in a brittle smile. “Yes, I know. I’m not abandoning my bookstore. It’s covered. I’d planned to take off two weeks for a honeymoon. Jackie is minding things there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just take some time alone to sort things out.”
“Your mother could help you do that.”
“Then I wouldn’t be alone. Besides, I don’t need help,” she snapped. “I’m a grown woman.”
No kidding. He had tried on numerous occasions to ignore that fact, but her lush curves and unbelievable femininity reminded him on an excruciatingly frequent basis.
“Everyone needs help from time to time,” he said.
“Even you?” she challenged.
“Even me.” The answer was automatic. But the truth was, he didn’t need anything from anyone. Not anymore. If he ever did, there was only one person he would ask. Nick Marchetti.
Their relationship was his most precious possession. He had money now and could buy anything he needed. Nick had been there when Steve hadn’t had a dime to his name. You couldn’t put a price on a friend like Nick. Steve knew how his buddy would take the news of his sister’s pregnancy. Not well.
He kicked himself for not revealing his incriminating information right away, before Wayne had taken advantage of Rosie. Keeping it under wraps had seemed like a good idea at the time. Steve had figured the weasel would trip himself up and she would give him the heave-ho. In fact Nick had told him she’d dumped Wayne. Obviously not in time. Steve knew he would never forgive himself for that. Although he still felt he’d done the right thing in breaking up the wedding. Letting her know Wayne could be bought off had been for the best. Now she would never have to see the damning pictures. But that didn’t change the fact that she was pregnant and not married. Guilt settled on him like a stone. He was to blame for at least part of it.
When Mrs. M. had asked him to stop the wedding, Steve knew he could have said no. Rosie was dead-on about that. If he had, she would be married now. It was his fault that she had no husband to give her baby a name.
He was in way over his head. He had to try just one more time to convince her to confide in her family. “Rosie, you have to tell your mother.”
“No, I don’t,” she said.
Stubbornness and sensibility didn’t necessarily go hand in hand, he thought ruefully. “Sooner or later she’ll have to know. Your dad, too.”
She was pacing in front of the wide, sheer-draped windows. “Then it will definitely be later.”
“Be reasonable.”
“All right. How about this? I’ll go on my honeymoon. When I get home, I’ll tell them Wayne is on a business trip. He’ll just never come back.”
“Your mother knows I paid him off.”
“Good point.” She started pacing again. “You could back me up when I say that he didn’t take the money.”
“Your mother would wonder why the check was cashed.”
“Oh. Right.” She tapped a finger against her lips as she walked back and forth, deep in thought.
“Come on, Rosie. Didn’t anyone ever tell you honesty is the best policy?”
She stood still and met his gaze with her own troubled one. “Whoever said that didn’t have to face Flo and Tom Marchetti and tell them she was going to have a baby without a husband.”
“It’ll be okay. Trust your folks—”
“You don’t know what it’s like.”
“No, I guess I don’t.” He didn’t know what it felt like to face parents, period. “I only had to answer to a social worker.”
“Oh, Steve, I didn’t mean—” She reached a hand out, then let it fall. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “No big deal.”
“It’s just that I’ll have to look my parents in the eye and watch their faces. I can’t stand to see ‘The Look.’”
“They love you.”
“I know. That makes it worse. The Look only works when it comes from the people you love.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“A flogging would be easier. Bread and water for a month would be a walk in the park. The Look is the ultimate punishment.”
“What look?”
“Disappointment” She sighed. “I let them down, Steve. Big time. Nothing I could have done would be worse than this. Their friends, whose sons and daughters have given them legitimate grandchildren, will know that Rosie Marchetti screwed up. My folks will blame themselves, try to figure out where they went wrong with me. They should have been better parents, stricter.”
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
She shook her head. “That’s what I’ll see in their faces. Their daughter, their best and brightest, is pregnant and has no husband. How can I tell them that? I can’t stand to hurt them that way—” Her voice cracked and she clapped a hand over her mouth and turned away.
Here it is, he thought. Here come the tears. He should have known she wouldn’t cry for herself, but her family was something else. And he was still the only one there. He curled his fingers into his palms.
“Rosie, don’t—”
“I’m fine—” She stopped as emotion choked off her words.
“This won’t do any good,” he said.
“I know. I—I can’t help it—” The words were cut off by a strangled sob that shook her shoulders.
“Damn.”
He crossed the room in three strides. He put his hands on her arms and turned her toward him. He felt her reluctance to take the comfort he was offering, then her eyes swam with tears and she covered her face with her hands. She seemed to crumple against him.
Her sweet, soft body snuggling in his arms felt better than he had ever imagined, and he’d imagined it a lot. She was like a sister to him, he reminded himself. He had no right to be aware of her breasts pressed against his chest and the heat that burned through him. He should push her away. How long could he stand having her in his arms without doing more?
He gritted his teeth. As long as it took, he decided. She needed someone now. Fate had put him there. He would just hold her. That’s all.
But he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting motion. He was unable to resist pressing her cheek more firmly to his chest. It felt natural and right for his arms to tug her closer, tuck her softness more securely to his hard length. He took a shuddering breath, then released it. She just needed a shoulder. It was the least he could do. She was his best friend’s sister. But he tightened his arms just a fraction. For himself.
When her crying subsided to an occasional wet hiccup, he said, “They’ll forgive you.”
“I know.”
“They love you.”
“No doubt about it. And I love them.”
“They would want to help you through this, Rosie.”
“Of course they would. But The Look will always be there—in their eyes. I’d do anything—anything—to spare them this disgrace and embarrassment.”
“Anything?”
“Short of murder and mayhem,” she said, nodding miserably. “But there’s no solution to this problem.” She sniffled. “I need a husband. But husbands don’t grow on trees.”
“No,” he agreed. “Not the last time I checked.”
She pulled back a little and looked up at him, a wavery little smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “They don’t fall off turnip trucks, either.”
“Yeah, I try never to do that. It’s not the fall that gets you, it’s the bounce.”
The sound she made was part sob, part giggle, but it was all victory, one that made him feel as if he’d won a marathon.
As he pulled her back into his embrace, her words sank in.
I need a husband.
Then she could face her family and friends without shame. He took half the blame for her situation. He owed her. He owed the family. There was a way to help them all. But it was a huge risk. He could lose the best friend he’d ever had, the only family he’d ever known.
But Rosie was a part of that family. Shouldn’t he help her? She was Nick’s sister. If Nick were in his shoes, wouldn’t he do the honorable thing, the gentlemanly thing? Steve hadn’t hung around the Marchettis all these years for nothing. He’d learned a thing or two. Rule number one: when one of them was in trouble, they were all in trouble.
He wasn’t a member of the family, not by blood. More than once he had wished there was a way to change that. But in this situation, blood lines worked in his favor. He could do something for Rosie that none of the rest of them could. He had a way to get her out of this jam.
“I could be a husband,” he said.
She glanced up at him and her eyes widened. Then she smiled, and her face lit up, and he understood about the glow of a pregnant woman. She looked so beautiful, for a split second his breath caught.
“That’s funny, Steve.”
He frowned. “What is?”
“The idea of you as a husband. Not as funny as the image of you taking a bounce off a turnip truck. But still pretty hysterical. Have you been into that bottle of wine that room service brought up?”
He looked offended. “Why?”
“You’re the world’s most confirmed bachelor. After Nick, of course. But still, I can’t picture you getting married. You’re not very good husband material.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.” She frowned. “I’ll forget you brought it up.”
“For Pete’s sake, Rosie. I’m trying to bail you out here.”
She frowned. “You’ve already done enough for me today. Butt out, Steve. Don’t do me any more favors.”
“Hear me out. You need a husband. I’m available. I’m applying for the job.”
“I don’t believe it. You’re actually proposing?”
He released a long breath and nodded. “Yeah, it’s an official proposal. I’m asking you to marry me, Rosie.”
