Heart of the Night (28 page)

“I'd have your baby,” she said.

He gave her a crooked grin. “You may just do that. I didn't exactly run over here with a rubber in my sock. Unless—”

“I'm not.”

“How's our timing?”

She tilted her head from side to side in a could-be-better, could-be-worse gesture.

“You don't look worried,” he said.

She didn't feel worried, either. “I wouldn't mind a baby.”

“A career lady like you?”

She shrugged.

Jared felt a sudden tightness in his throat. He coughed to relieve it. “DeBarr would love that.”

“Paul wouldn't have a say in it.”

“He's your boss.”

“What I do with my body,” she said with surprising force, “is none of his business.”

Looking down at her, Jared felt a swell of gentleness. She was a fighter. He rather liked her cause at that moment. Recalling Anthony Alt's snide innuendo, he said, “You've never been with Paul.”

“No. I work with him. It would be dumb to confuse the issues.”

“If he turned you on, it wouldn't seem so dumb.”

“Maybe not. But he doesn't.”

“Do other guys in the office?” When she gave him a what-is-this look, he said, “It's intimidating for me to think of you there in an office full of men.”

“I don't date them, and I certainly don't sleep with them. I thought we'd established the fact that I've been chaste for some time.”

“That doesn't mean you haven't been tempted. AIDS has wreaked havoc with temptation.”

“I haven't been tempted. Trust me. Besides,” she sighed and returned her cheek to his chest, “I've been too busy to get involved.”

“If that's so, how could you manage a baby?”

“I'd do things differently if I had a baby.”

“How?”

“I'd go into private practice and work part-time. I'd move into a bigger place, hire an au pair, and have her stay with the baby while I was gone.”

“You've mapped it out.”

She was silent for a time before admitting softly, “I've dreamed.”

Jared thought the dream was just fine, except that it was missing one major element. “What about the baby's father?”

“I don't know.”

“Wouldn't you like a husband along with your baby?”

“Not for the baby's sake alone. If the father and I were in love, we'd marry anyway. But I don't need marriage. I'm loaded.”

“What's money got to do with it?”

“If an unmarried woman becomes pregnant, she might look to marriage for financial security. I wouldn't have to do that.”

“What about emotional security? Raising kids is hard work. Wouldn't you want someone to share the load?”

“If that someone and I didn't get along, the child would be worse off than being raised by a single parent.”

“I don't want my child raised by a single parent.”

“I doubt I'm pregnant.”

With no warning at all, Jared shifted her on the bed and loomed over her. Though his hold was gentle, his expression brooked no argument. “I want to know. If you are, we're getting married. No child of mine is going to be raised by one parent when he can have two.”

She swallowed. “I doubt I'm pregnant.”

“Well, if you are, you know how I feel.”

“Yes.”

He was staring at her, but increasingly the stare was more indulgent. “Why do I get the feeling that I lost that one?”

“Because I doubt I'm pregnant, and I feel foolish carrying on this conversation. We only met three days ago. Besides,” she winced, “I think I'm lying on my birthday flowers.”

He rolled away and retrieved the flowers. Taking them, she slipped from the bed and went off in search of a vase and water.

Jared watched her leave, watched the swirl of her robe behind her. Then he sat up and looked around the room. The last time he'd seen it, he'd been preoccupied with Savannah to the exclusion of all else. Now he wanted to see what clues the room gave.

It wasn't a large room, though the high ceilings gave that impression. Savannah had furnished it simply in white wicker with a dresser and dressing table, an easy chair, a low table with several magazines on top, and a pair of nightstands flanking the double bed. The accessories were pale blue, and between the swirls of the wicker and that blue, the effect was feminine in an airy sort of way. It reflected her personality, he decided. As professional an appearance as she made, she was refreshingly feminine inside.

On impulse, he reached for the radio that stood on the nightstand. The music came through softly, a ballad that was high on the country charts. Grinning smugly, he flipped off the switch, climbed from bed and went to the window to see what it was Savannah saw when she awoke each morning. Propping an elbow high on the jamb, he gazed out over the chest-high, gathered sheers.

That was how Savannah found him. Her steps faltered just inside the door, and she stared, awed by the magnificence of his shape. He was a sculptor's dream, a masterpiece of long limbs and handsomely carved muscle. Her view was mostly of his back, a broad expanse of smooth skin made dynamic by the slant of his arms. His shoulders were corded, his back tapered to a narrow middle and waist, his buttocks tight. His legs were those of a runner, long, lean and solid.

Just looking at him made her insides melt.

Catching sight of her, he dropped his arm and straightened. “I was getting lonesome,” he said in a deep, very Jared Snow voice. He started toward her.

Head-on, he was even more impressive than from behind. Without his clothes he seemed larger, more firmly developed. He wasn't hairy; there was a spray of tawny down on his upper chest, but it quickly descended into a narrow line that disappeared into his navel. Below that, the hair was darker, thicker, and below that, he was amply endowed.

Savannah's mouth had gone completely dry.

Taking the vase of flowers from her hands, he set it on the nightstand. Then he returned to her, framed her face with his hands, and kissed her very lightly, very gently. When he had satisfied himself with one angle, he tipped his head and tried another, and after he'd explored that with the same lazy curiosity, he tried a third.

By the time he raised his head and looked down at her, the gray flecks in his eyes had gone noticeably darker. He lowered his hands to her shoulders, whispering hoarsely, “I want you as naked as me,” and slid off her robe and nightshirt with the single sweep of each hand.

Taking a step back, he looked at her. She tried to cover her breasts, but he easily captured her wrists and held them away.

“You're beautiful.”

She shook her head. “My sister's the beautiful one. I'm the smart one.”

“You're beautiful and smart.” Drawing her closer, he flattened her hands on his chest, moved them in slow circles over his nipples, then guided them lower. When they reached his groin, he closed her fingers around his erection. He saw her eyes widen, knew what she was thinking. “That's how much I want you,” he said in a low rasp. “You've already taken all of me inside. I won't hurt you.”

Savannah dropped her gaze to her hands. She moved them in a gentle caress, loosened them to touch the velvet head, then trace the length of the ridge underneath. The more gently she explored him, the harder he grew, and the harder he grew, the more she wanted him.

Trembling inside, she came closer. Her view was obstructed when Jared began to touch her nipples. Already tight, they grew painfully so, mirroring the knot that had gathered low in her belly. She let out a low moan, dropped her head back, and closed her eyes.

Nudging her around, Jared sat her on the edge of the bed, perched sideways next to her and covered her open mouth with his. His kiss was deep and wet, and while she was in the throes of it, he spread her legs and slid one finger, then a second, inside her.

She cried his name, but it was muffled in his mouth. He wasn't ending the kiss any more than he was removing his fingers, and then he started doing such wonderful things with both that the only sounds she made were ones of pure pleasure. She was unaware of spreading her legs wider, even raising her knees, unaware that she was clutching his shoulders for dear life. The pleasure he gave her was so intense that she knew nothing until he quickly brought her over to straddle his lap and thrust into her, when she shattered into a million fragments of joy.

When she returned to earth, her face was buried in his hair, her arms were coiled tightly around his neck, every meeting place of their bodies was wet with sweat, and he was breathing as roughly as she.

“Jesus,” he croaked.

She sputtered out a laugh. “My thought exactly.”

After another minute of slowly diminishing gasps, he said, “What do you do to me?”

“Me? You were the one who started it.” She imitated his deep drawl. “I want you as naked as me.”

“It seemed only fair.”

“Fair? I'll probably be bowlegged for a week. I'm not conditioned to this.”

“Thank God.” He fell backward and rolled over, came up on his knees, and hoisted Savannah higher on the bed. Grabbing the sheet that had been kicked into a bunch long before, he came down beside her, settled her comfortably in his arms, and drew the sheet high. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I'd like to sleep now.”

Savannah brushed her nose against his chest. “Fine for you to say. You're not picking up your sister at ten forty-five. If I fall asleep now, I may not wake up.”

“You'll wake up.”

She hummed out a sound that quite perfectly captured his own sense of pleasant exhaustion.

“You should have set it for twelve,” he murmured against her hair.

“Mmm.”

“Call her and change it.”

“She'll be furious if I wake her up to tell her she can sleep later.”

“You sound like you're afraid of her.”

“No.”

“Are you?”

“No. It's just that she wouldn't understand why I wanted more time to sleep.”

“You mean to tell me,” he asked slowly, “that she's never been zonked by early morning love?”

“I don't know, but that's not the point. The point is that she doesn't expect it of me.”

“Because you're the smart one, not the beautiful one?” He gave a sleepy chuckle. “Clue her in.”

But Savannah couldn't do that. Susan prided herself on being the stronger of the two when it came to sex appeal. As smug as Savannah felt at that moment, she didn't want to rob Susan of that edge. Her sister felt confident about so little else.

Jared's breathing lengthened. He was soon asleep. Lulled by the rise and fall of his chest, Savannah followed. When she awoke, it was nearly ten.

“Oh, no,” she murmured, scrambling away from Jared and off the bed. She made straight for the bathroom, within seconds was under the shower, within minutes was out and drying herself as quickly as she could. It was ten-thirty when she picked up the bedroom phone and punched out Susan's number.

The line was busy.

Jared was sleeping soundly, sprawled on his stomach with one arm over the spot where she should have been.

She tried Susan again. The line was still busy.

Coming down on the edge of the bed, she watched him sleep. He looked totally comfortable and very masculine against the feminine decor. She couldn't quite believe that he was there, but he didn't go away when she blinked.

She tried Susan again. This time she got through. “Hey, Suse, just wanted to tell you I'm on my way.”

There was a pause, then a mercifully sober, “You're late.”

“Not by much, but I didn't want you to worry. I'll be there soon.” She hung up before her sister could say anything else. Then she looked at Jared. He was still sleeping.

Unable to resist, she leaned over and put a light kiss on his cheek. He didn't stir. For a final minute, she enjoyed the sight of him. Then she rose from the bed, crossed to the dresser to pick up the purse and heels she'd set there a short time before, and, with a last, longing glance at Jared, she left the room.

C
HAPTER
12

Susan wasn't alone when Savannah arrived. Dianne Walker, Susan's former sister-in-law, was there to open the door, swathed in fur and Obsession.

“Happy birthday, darling,” she said, offering first one cheek, then the other to Savannah. “We missed you last night. The party was divine, wasn't it, love?” she said to Susan, who had come up from behind. Without awaiting an answer, she addressed Savannah again. “You're such a stranger. Always working. I'm glad you're taking Susan off for the day, though. It's been a dreadful week.” She was studying Savannah closely. “But you're looking wonderful, darling. Kidnappings must agree with you.”

Under normal circumstances, Savannah would have reacted to so offensive a comment. But she was feeling unusually light inside, and very indulgent. “A good night's rest will do it every time.” Sidestepping Dianne, she gave Susan a hug. “Happy birthday, Sis.”

Susan returned the hug. “You, too.”

“All set to go?”

“I need another two minutes on my makeup. Dianne distracted me.”

Two minutes would be five, and Savannah knew she would be stuck with Dianne during that time. But she said, “Go ahead and finish. I want to give the hospital a call and see how Megan's doing.”

Excusing herself, she took off for the den and put through the call. Will answered the phone in Megan's room, his hello a tired one.

“Hi, Will. It's Savannah. How's she doing?”

“Okay.”

“Did she sleep last night?”

“Yes.”

“Is she feeling any better?”

“I don't know.”

“She's still not saying much?”

“That's right.”

“And you can't talk freely because she's listening. Has the psychiatrist been in?”