Sarah's Child
“I don’t want children,” he said harshly. “Ever. After losing Justin and Shane, I can’t bear being around children. If you want children, then I’ll back off now, because I can’t give them to you.” Pain twisted his features; then he controlled himself, and an expression of bleak resignation settled in place. “I just can’t get over…” His voice trailed off, and she felt his shoulders draw up, as if bracing themselves under a burden that showed no signs of lifting.
Sarah swallowed, wondering how many marriage proposals were followed by a bluntly honest statement from the prospective groom on why the woman shouldn’t marry him. How many women would want to marry a man who offered companionship instead of love, a man who didn’t want a family, a man who would be gone on frequent trips? And she remembered what he’d said the night he’d packed up all the boys’ things—that he hadn’t been able to sleep in the same bed with a woman since Diane’s death. She wouldn’t even be able to share the nights with him! A woman would have to be crazy to accept such a proposal, Sarah thought. Crazy in love.
She stepped back from him and looked at his hard dark face, the face that had lived in her dreams for years. She thought only briefly of her dream of raising a houseful of children, his children, then gently told her dream goodbye. Those children lived, after all, only in her dreams, while Rome was very real, and if she turned him down now, heaven might slip forever out of her grasp. So he didn’t love her; he cared for her, respected her, enough to want to make their relationship legal. Miracles did sometimes happen, and as long as they lived, there was always the chance that he would grow to love her. But even if he never offered her his heart, he was offering her all that he could. She might turn him down, out of pride, but pride wouldn’t replace the living warmth of the man. Pride wouldn’t make love to her with the swift hard passion he’d shown her the night before. With a woman’s intuitive wisdom, she knew that, so long as he desired her so strongly, she had a chance of warming his wintry heart again.
“Yes,” she said calmly. “Now what?”
Her brief matter-of-fact acceptance didn’t shift him off balance—his only reaction was a deep intake of breath that swelled his chest—then he pulled her against him again. “What I’d like to do is strip you naked and take you on the nearest flat surface I can find—”
Sarah interrupted, groaning. “The floor again,” she protested teasingly.
“Or the table. Or the cabinet top.” The powerful reaction of his body told her that, while his words were teasing, his body was serious. Sarah held her breath, wondering if her already stiff muscles could survive an amorous encounter on the hard tile of the kitchen floor. Clasped against him as she was, she couldn’t see his face, or she’d have cried out at the passion etched on his features.
Rome held her tightly to him, wanting to absorb her into his flesh. The relief that had flooded through him at her casual acceptance of his proposal was so great that he’d felt almost faint; then he’d been seized by the primeval desire to finalize their bargain in the most basic way possible. He wanted to brand her as his; feel again the softness of her body beneath him. He’d planned his proposal very carefully, couching it in the most logical terms he could present, letting her know he wouldn’t disrupt her carefully ordered world. The idea of marrying her had come to him during the night, and he really did feel that Diane would approve of his marrying Sarah. More than that, he liked the idea of her having his name and being in his bed every night. The fiercely possessive streak in him wanted to mark her off-limits to every other man, especially before that damned Max Conroy could work his potent charm on her. But until she’d looked at him after he’d asked her to marry him and very calmly said “Why?” he hadn’t realized how desperately he needed her to say yes. Her affirmative answer, finally given, and in such an offhand manner that he was shaken by how little enthusiasm she had for the idea, had lifted a weight from him that he hadn’t even known was there until it was gone and he felt his freedom from its restrictions. Lord, how he wanted her!
He rubbed his beard-roughened chin against her temple and reluctantly shifted her away from him. “We can wait,” he said, wanting to embroil her in plans before she had a chance to have second thoughts. “We have to plan everything, and make arrangements.”
“We have to make breakfast,” she added, taking her cue from him and keeping everything light and practical. “Unless you’ve already eaten?”
“No, I hadn’t even thought about it. I didn’t realize I was hungry until you mentioned it, but damned if I’m not starving.”
She smiled a little, thinking that he’d just revealed that he’d been suffering from an attack of nerves, though she wasn’t going to drive herself mad trying to decide whether he’d been afraid she’d turn him down or afraid she’d accept.
“Let me comb my hair; then I’ll make the biggest breakfast you ever saw.”
“While you’re combing your hair, I’ll start on the biggest breakfast we ever saw,” he amended. “Do you want the works?”
She nodded, feeling happier than she ever had before, and her appetite seemed to have increased in response. Though normally a light eater, she felt hungry enough to put away a man-size breakfast. “I like my eggs over medium,” she informed him on her way out.
“I’ll expect you back before then. It doesn’t take that long to comb your hair!”
“How do you know?” she retorted smugly. “You’ve never seen me.”
His low chuckle followed her as she went to the bedroom. When the door was closed behind her, she sat down on the bed and clasped her hands on her knees, every muscle in her body quivering in delight. She couldn’t believe it. After she’d torn herself to pieces over him for years, he’d walked in the door and asked her to marry him. His reasons were logical, but that didn’t matter. To a starving woman, half a loaf was better than no bread at all. She thought of the mornings they would share, cooking breakfast together, lingering over a last cup of coffee, and her heart felt so full of happiness that she had trouble dragging oxygen into her chest. A marriage opened up a whole new world of intimacy. Not just sexual intimacy, but the tiny things like sharing the bathroom mirror when they were in a rush to get ready for work, trading sections of the newspaper on Sunday mornings, having someone to rub the strain from her neck and shoulders after a hard day.
Suddenly she didn’t want to be away from him a moment longer than necessary. She splashed cold water over her face, combed her hair and pulled it back with a clasp on each side, and swiftly changed into jeans and an oversize white shirt. She rolled the sleeves up as she returned to the kitchen.
The bacon was frying when she entered the room, and she sniffed in deep appreciation. Rome was rummaging in her cabinets, and he emerged with a box of instant pancake mix. “Pancakes and eggs,” he announced. “Silver-dollar pancakes.”
She shrugged and went along with him, not certain that her appetite was healthy enough for pancakes as well, but his probably was. While he was mixing the batter, she set the table, poured the orange juice, and got out the eggs.
“We’ll have to find a new apartment,” he said casually. “Neither of ours is large enough to hold all our things.”
“Ummm.” Thinking to spare him the necessity of spelling out to her that he wouldn’t be sleeping with her, she said casually, “I’d like to have a three-bedroom apartment, if we can find one at a reasonable price. It would be nice to have an extra bedroom in case anyone came to visit.”
He went curiously still, but his back was to her and she couldn’t see his expression. To let him know that she wasn’t going to dwell on the subject, she said just as casually, “I’ll have to quit my job.”
His head jerked around, his dark eyes incredulous.
“Well, I, will.” She smiled at him. “I can’t work at Spencer-Nyle if I’m going to be married to you. It’s unprofessional, and I don’t think it would work very well, even if Mr. Edwards agreed.”
His jaw set grimly. “I didn’t think of that. I can?
??t ask you to quit your job for me. I know how much it means to you—”
“You don’t know anything,” she interrupted. “I was thinking of quitting anyway.” It was time Rome Matthews began learning a little about the woman he planned to marry, and the first lesson was to begin breaking it to him, gradually, that she wasn’t a dedicated, high-powered businesswoman who got the greatest satisfaction of her life from her job. “It’s just a job,” she said deliberately. “I like it, and I’ve done my best at it because I don’t believe in only half doing something, not because I’m devoted to it. I’d begun thinking of quitting, as I said. After last night, I didn’t see how I could go on working with you.”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “You’d quit just because we had sex?”
“I didn’t think I could keep things professional between us at work.”
“Look, I could arrange something—”
“No,” she said mildly, not giving him time to finish. “I’m not planning to sit on my rear and let you support me, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve worked too hard to settle into a routine of soap operas, and I wouldn’t have anything else to occupy my time. I’ll get another job.”
“That’s not it,” he growled angrily. “I’m well able to support you even if you wanted to sit on your rear for three lifetimes. I just hate the thought of you giving up your job because of me.”
“It’s the only reasonable thing to do. I’m not that attached to it, and you’re an executive; I’m not.”
“You’ll look for another secretarial job?”
“I don’t know.” Thoughtfully she broke an egg into the skillet. “I have some money saved up; I might go into some sort of business for myself. I could open a dress shop, like every lady of leisure with money and time on her hands does.” She grinned at the thought.
He shook his head. “Whatever you want, as long as it’s what you really want. If you want to stay at Spencer-Nyle, I’ll throw my weight around.”
“I really think I’ll be happier out of the office routine. I’ve done it for a long time now, and I’m ready for a change.”
After a moment, he chuckled wickedly. “This is really going to drive Max crazy.”
“Rome!” Laughing helplessly at him, she shook her head. “What a fiendish thought! Did you ask me to marry you just so you could force Max to get a new secretary?”
“No, but it serves him right.”
“Don’t you like him?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I like him a lot. He’s a hell of an executive. But liking him at work, and liking the way he looks at you are two different things.”
Sarah decided that she really owed Max a big favor if his interest had sparked the possessiveness in Rome that had resulted in last night. As she finished cooking the eggs, she stole glances at Rome, and a thrill went through her every time. They worked so well together, it could have been the hundredth breakfast they’d shared instead of the first. She only hoped that this first breakfast was an indication of how smoothly their married life would go. She wouldn’t push him, but she hoped, with every fiber of her being, that she could teach him how to love again.
Telling Max, that Monday morning, wasn’t the easiest thing she’d ever done. He was at first disbelieving, then outraged, as he realized that she was turning in her notice.
“The bloody barbarian did this deliberately,” he fumed, pacing up and down the office, so angry that his vivid eyes were glittering. Temper radiated from him like electricity. “He knew you’d quit and leave me totally lost.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said dryly. “I can’t tell you how much it reassures me to think that Rome asked me to marry him solely to upset your routine.”
Max halted in his pacing, staring at her, and his eyes softened. “I need a good hard kick in the rear,” he finally admitted ruefully. “Ignore me, darling. My nose is out of joint because he’s already won the race, and I was left standing at the starting post. It’s so damned embarrassing.”
Sarah laughed, because the image of Max’s mooning over her was so ludicrous. He was sophisticated down to his fingertips, and every woman in the building would give her eyeteeth for a chance with him…every woman but herself. He watched her as she laughed, her face lit by the inner glow that riveted him every time he saw it. As if drawn by her gentle warmth, he moved closer to her, a little sad because that glow wasn’t for him, and she’d never grace his life as he’d so often imagined her.
“If he ever makes you unhappy, you know where I am,” he murmured, stroking her satin cheek with his forefinger. “Be careful, darling. Beneath that controlled corporate image the man’s a wolf on the prowl, and you’re just an innocent lamb. Don’t let him have you for lunch.”
Max didn’t state the obvious, that Rome didn’t love her, but she knew that the thought was in his mind. He was observant enough to know that Rome’s actions sprang from libido, not from emotion.
“You do know what you’re doing?” he worried.
“Yes, of course I do. I’ve loved him for a long time.”
“Does he know?”
She shook her head.
“Then, don’t tell him. Make him work for it; he’ll appreciate it more.” A shrewd look entered his eyes. “Why do I have a feeling that the lamb is going to get the best of the wolf?”
“I don’t know, but I hope you’re right,” she said shakily. “You don’t know how much I hope so!”
“Just remember: If it doesn’t work out, cut your losses. I’ll be here if you need me. I have a fantasy,” he mused. “It’s a very simple one. I fantasize that I take you back to England with me, marry you in the stone relic of a church where my family has shackled themselves for more generations than I can count, and get you with child. Providing heirs would be my favorite occupation.”
Sarah laughed again, blushing, and part of her wished it could have been Max. Her love would have been safe with him. But instead she’d given her heart to a man burdened by the past, a man who wanted her body and her companionship, but not the wealth of love inside her.
“May I kiss you?” he asked, sliding his hand from her cheek to cup it around her chin, lifting it so he could look her full in the face. “Just once, and I promise to never ask you again…as long as you’re with Rome.”
Looking into those wickedly dancing turquoise eyes, Sarah knew he didn’t have a chaste good-bye kiss in mind. He wanted to kiss her with passion, with all the heat of his superb male body. She knew very well that Max wasn’t in love with her, but she knew, as he did, that had things worked out differently he could have been the one she married. Only the timing of their initial meeting had prevented it. Knowing that she could have loved him if she hadn’t loved Rome first and forever blinded herself to other men made her feel a little sad and a little happy at the same time. “Yes, as a good-bye kiss,” she said, and rose a little on tiptoe to offer her mouth to him.
At the same moment that his mouth touched hers, Sarah heard the door open. She knew that Max heard it too, but he didn’t pull away. With the devilishness of his personality, he instead drew her closer even when she stiffened reflexively against him, wrapping his arms around her and locking her tightly to the hard warmth of his body. He kissed her deeply, his tongue dancing across hers, taking his time about it and savoring the taste and feel of her. Every nerve in her body jingled, telling Sarah that it was Rome who’d entered, but she found herself totally helpless in Max’s embrace; beneath that slender, elegant frame were steel muscles. At last he lifted his mouth, and she gasped for breath, hanging in his arms, and he looked straight across the room into Rome’s narrowed dark eyes, a brilliant smile lighting his face. “Do you have any objections?” he asked mildly.
Rome crossed the office to them and gently took Sarah out of Max’s embrace. Pulling her into the strong safety of his arms, he cradled her against him. “Not this once,” he said smoothly. “Not as good-bye. But that was your one free ride, and I’m giving you that only because you’ve lost. If there
’s a next time, you’ll have to pay.”
“Fair enough.” Max grinned and held out his hand to Rome. “Congratulations.”
They shook hands, grinning like idiots, and Sarah rolled her eyes. She’d been expecting bloodshed, at the least, but instead they were the best of buddies. Men! Who understood them?
“I’m stealing her for a long lunch hour today,” Rome said. “We have a lot to do: blood tests, license, apartment-hunting. I’ll be free at twelve-thirty. Can you make it by then?” he asked Sarah, glancing down at her.
Sarah had already made plans of her own, and she shook her head. “I can’t. I have an appointment at one.”
Max rocked back on his heels, looking extraordinarily pleased at hearing Sarah already balking at Rome’s directions. Rome ran his office with ball-bearing precision, and his cold, cutting sarcasm was known throughout the far-flung divisions of the Spencer-Nyle corporation. Only Anson Edwards was above Rome’s infamous bullying, but then Anson Edwards was legendary for his own scathing temper when faced with incompetence and stupidity. Max waited with pleasure for Rome’s reaction to the way Sarah had refused his request.
But if he’d expected the hobnail boot to come down, he was disappointed. Rome lifted an eyebrow in silent inquiry, then said, “We’ll make it tomorrow, then.”
Rome had to use his iron will to keep from demanding of her just where she was going, but he remembered the arguments he’d used to convince her to marry him. They would have to respect each other’s need for time alone. Sarah was still very much the aloof, rather solitary woman he’d always known her to be. She’d agreed to marry him, but only after he’d carefully pointed out the plusses for both of them. He’d have to be careful to give her the personal space she needed, the mental and physical privacy she was accustomed to. He could live with that, as long as she came willingly into his arms and gave him the hot, sweet comfort of her body, though it seemed he wasn’t even going to get that the way he’d thought. She’d made it pretty plain to him that she expected her own bedroom, and he’d had to grind his teeth to keep from telling her plainly that she’d be sleeping in his bed. He hadn’t wanted to sleep with any woman since Diane, until he’d held Sarah in his arms. She was so elusive. He wanted…he needed…the dark hours spent with her, when even the simple act of lying beside each other in slumber created bonds that would hold her to him. But not yet; he had to move so carefully with her, not panic her into backing out of the marriage.