Expecting His Baby Page 9

  How was he going to drop her off at her apartment door and go home to his celibate life as if last night had never happened? This was the payoff for breaking promises, Judd thought caustically. And suddenly remembered his proposition, the one he hadn’t yet broached to her. In theory, it was for Emmy’s benefit. But in practice, it would certainly affect him.

  With aching clarity he remembered something else: how ardently and trustingly Lise had opened to him, offering him unstintingly all the gifts of her body. Was he going to throw them back in her face? He gave an impatient sigh. He was known throughout the business world for making momentous decisions with the rapidity of gunfire; yet when it came to Lise, he felt immobilized by doubts and second thoughts and then still more doubts.

  Keep your proposition to yourself, Judd Harwood. Goodbye is just a two-syllable word.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LISE woke to the soft cooing of doves in the jacaranda trees outside her room. Automatically she reached for Judd; but found only tangled sheets and a pillow. Her eyes flew open. She was alone, she thought in confusion. Alone and naked in her own bed.

  Her skin smelled of his, her body suffused with a delicious languor; she hadn’t dreamed their lovemaking. It had been real, wondrously and heart-wrenchingly real.

  Where was he?

  Emmy. Of course he couldn’t stay in bed with Lise and risk his daughter finding them there together. But couldn’t he have woken her before he left? Held her close and kissed her before leaving her alone?

  Her nightgown was still lying on the floor, startlingly blue against the pale tile; and a hundred memories flooded Lise’s mind. She’d had to travel all the way to a small tropical island to learn how powerful and utterly beautiful the act of love could be. And it had taken Judd to teach her.

  As if a lizard’s claws had scraped her face, Lise was suddenly visited by a paralyzing insight. Why wouldn’t Judd be more than competent in bed? He was experienced. He’d had wealthy and sophisticated lovers who traveled in the same world as he. She, Lise, must have seemed impossibly naïve and inept.

  What had Angeline said to her once in the back garden in Outremont, on one of her rare visits home after her marriage? “Of course, women throw themselves at him all the time. You can’t really blame him for taking what’s offered—he’s only human, after all.”

  At the time, Lise had concluded Angeline was being far too forgiving. Now she felt a blush of shame rush from her chin to her forehead. Last night she, Lise, had offered herself to Judd. He’d had the grace and the forbearance to refuse. But later, in her bed, he’d taken advantage of what she’d so freely made available. And who, indeed, could blame him?

  Last night she’d become one in a string of women. She’d cheapened herself in her own eyes, let alone in his. How could she have done that? If she hadn’t kissed him so fervently when he’d sat on her bed, if she hadn’t fallen into his arms with the ease of a wave curling onto the beach, he’d have left her alone. Kept his promise.

  She couldn’t stand her own thoughts. Lise jumped out of bed, tossed her nightgown under the pillow and hurried into the bathroom, where she turned on the hot water full force in the shower, and scrubbed herself vigorously with lilac-scented soap to remove every trace of Judd from her skin.

  But how was she going to erase him from her memory? Her senses? How to forget the feel of him, the huskiness in his voice when he’d told her how beautiful she was, the laughter and passion and delight he’d brought to her bed?

  She would forget him. Eventually. She had to.

  Dressing quickly in a bright cotton skirt and peasant blouse that she hadn’t worn yet, Lise opened her door and stepped out into the sunlit hallway. If she hesitated, she was lost. Fixing a smile to her lips, she walked into the dining room. “Good morning, Judd…where’s Emmy?” she said casually. “Oh good, more papaya. And aren’t those fresh croissants?” Her back to him, she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Emmy’s on the beach with Sally and her husband,” Judd said. “How did you sleep?”

  He sounded so damn sure of himself. So cool, so detached. As if he’d never been within ten feet of her bed. Lise turned around, her face set. “When did you leave my room?”

  “Around five. I didn’t know what time Emmy might wake.”

  “We should never have—”

  “We did, Lise,” he said with menacing softness. “The question is, what do we do now?”

  “You take me home. We say goodbye.”

  “Just like that?”

  “What else do you suggest?”

  He hesitated fractionally. Then he said in a clipped voice, “A few days ago I mentioned a proposition I had for you.”

  “You put it into action last night,” she said nastily.

  “Don’t, Lise. Don’t cheapen what happened between us.”

  She put down her fork. “So what did happen, Judd?”

  “We made love. Twice.” His jaw hardened. “For me it was an unforgettable experience.”

  “Just like all your other unforgettable experiences.”

  His eyes flashed as though sunlight had glanced across a knife blade; instinctively she shrank from him. “You’re determined to think the worst of me.”

  “And the worst of myself,” she said bitterly.

  “Are you saying you regret what happened?”

  “Of course!”

  “I don’t believe you! I was with you, I held you and kissed you and heard you cry out my name—you were being most truly yourself with me. How can you possibly regret that?”

  “It was a one-night stand,” she cried. “I’ve never done that before—and I never will again.”

  Restlessly Judd moved his shoulders. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know: that she was a woman of principle. Okay, Judd. Decision time. If you keep your mouth shut, last night stays as a one-night stand, and you don’t try to see her again. Ever. Or else you can take a gamble. A huge gamble, because it involves Emmy.

  He needed his head read.

  Emmy needs Lise.

  The three short words replayed themselves in his mind; and Judd knew them for the truth. Not giving himself time to retreat from them, he said flatly, “Why don’t you hear me out? About this proposition, I mean.” He took a deep breath, feeling his tension level move up another notch. “I’d like you to take a position in my house as Emmy’s companion. You’d get her off to school in the mornings, be with her when she comes home, stay with her when I’m away or if she’s sick. Your weekends would be free whenever I’m home. But obviously I’d expect you to quit your job at the fire station.” He then mentioned a rate of pay that made Lise blink.

  She said the first thing that came into her head. “Do you always try to buy people?”

  “I’m talking about hiring you. Not buying you.”

  “And where would I sleep?”

  He said with careful restraint, “Once the repairs are finished, you’d have your own suite of rooms off the main wing.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “We’d all be in the guest wing.”

  So angry she no longer cared what she said, Lise fumed, “So for an amount of money that, as you must know, is a fortune to me but peanuts to you, you’d be getting a mistress and a nanny all in one? You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, if I refuse.”

  He stood up, his hands jammed in his pockets. “You persist in distorting everything I say. You’re the one who made a play for me before dinner last night—or are you conveniently forgetting that? And if you didn’t enjoy yourself in bed with me, you should quit being a firefighter and become an actress, you’d make a fortune. Listen to reason for a minute. If you lived in my house, you and Emmy could get to know each other better. You wouldn’t be so tired. Nor would you be putting your life at risk every day the way you do now.”

  Oh, wouldn’t I? she thought crazily. Shows what you know, Judd Harwood.

  She could have told him she was desperate to quit her job; had been for week
s. She didn’t. “The answer’s no,” she said in a stony voice.

  “I am not hiring you as my mistress, as you so charmingly put it.”

  “You’re not hiring me for anything!”

  “You’ve got to be the most stubborn and contrary woman on the face of this earth,” Judd grated. “You’d be good for Emmy, Lise, I know you would.”

  “Emmy doesn’t even like me.”

  “She would. Given time.”

  Lise said furiously, “I’m not going to be the one who salves your conscience so you can travel to all the trendy resorts and society parties and neglect your own child.”

  “Is that another direct quote from my ex-wife? Seems to me both of you conveniently manage to forget that I have a job, which requires a fair bit of travel. And which happens, of course, to have paid for this trip.”

  Her lips set mutinously. “So after last night, how much do I owe you?”

  He took her by the shoulders, his jaw a tight line. “A remark like that is what cheapens you. Not anything you did in bed with me last night, Lise.”

  He was right. Of course. Her body slumping in his hold, Lise said with the kind of honesty that only desperation brings, “Judd, I was a fool to come here. And even more of a fool to wear that dress last night. I’m sorry I made a play for you, I wasn’t thinking with anything other than my hormones. The best thing we can do is go our separate ways tomorrow and forget that last night ever happened. Please.”

  “Hormones,” he repeated in an unreadable voice.

  “Well, of course. What else could it be? We don’t even like each other—we’re certainly not in love with each other. So we can’t possibly jeopardize Emmy’s peace of mind, her security, for something that’s no more than lust.” Then, from the corner of her eye, Lise caught movement. With patent relief she added, “Thank goodness—here comes Emmy with Sally.”

  For a moment Judd’s fingers increased their pressure; her head jerked up. “We’re not through with each other—no matter what you say.”

  Of their own volition, Lise’s eyes fell to his mouth, and instantly she was tortured by memories of how Judd had kissed her last night with such passion and inventiveness. Don’t go there, she thought frantically. Not now. “There are some people you can’t control, Judd. And I’m one of them.” She pulled free of him. “I’m going to pack. See you later.”

  He made no move to stop her; his whole face had closed against her. Lise hurried down the hall and into her bedroom, shutting the door with careful restraint. Then she stared dry-eyed at the room in which she’d found such bliss. The wide bed with its exquisite painting of a blue heron over the headboard. The collection of jade carvings on the recessed shelf against the far wall. A serenely beautiful room she was deliberately leaving, to go back to her real life.

  Moving like a robot, she began folding the garments in the closet into her two suitcases, separating those Judd had bought her from the rest. Her brain, belatedly, had begun to work. Why had Judd invited her to become Emmy’s companion? He loved Emmy. Why would he risk his beloved daughter growing fond of a woman who was nothing but an employee?

  Maybe this time Angeline was right: that Judd always treated people like chessmen on a board, disposable objects to be moved according to his own design and for his own ends. So that he won, Lise thought unhappily. Because winning was the name of his game.

  His reasons didn’t matter. She’d said no and she’d meant it. Nothing could be more impossible than for her to live in the same house with Judd, no matter how big a house or how often he was away. She couldn’t bear to do that. It would destroy her.

  Ten hours later the limo drew up outside Lise’s apartment block. A messy mixture of snow and ice pellets was falling from a gray sky. The snowbanks edging the streets were dirty, while the pedestrians looked hunched and grumpy. Lise said in a voice that sounded totally artificial, “Emmy, it was lovely being with you. I hope it won’t be too hard going back to school. Judd, I—”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “There’s no need for—”

  The look he gave her would have stopped a fire truck in its tracks. Lise got out of the limo and as he reached in the trunk for the cases, said sharply, “I only want my own.”

  “Do you have to argue about everything? You’re keeping the clothes I bought you and that’s the end of it.”

  The raw cold seemed to have penetrated her very bones. Shivering, Lise said, “This is the end of it, you’re right,” and prayed he hadn’t heard the pain underlying her words. She tramped through the snow to the front door and held it open for him. Then she said, “I can carry the cases, Judd.”

  He put them down on the floor. His eyes were an impenetrable gray. As cold as the sky, she thought, and said clumsily, “Your villa, the pool, the rain forest—it was all so beautiful…thank you.”

  As if the words were forced from him, he said, “When you go back to work, for God’s sake don’t go taking risks.”

  “I saved Emmy by taking risks.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “If you change your mind about the job I offered you, call me. Goodbye, Lise.”

  “Goodbye,” she whispered, and watched him walk away from her, out the door, across the sidewalk and into the limo. Which smoothly accelerated into the traffic.

  He was gone. He hadn’t kissed her, and he’d made no mention of another meeting. He’d gotten the message. Finally.

  She took the elevator to her floor. Her apartment looked cramped and untidy. Lise turned up the heat and started to unpack, her own suitcase first, then the one Judd had given her. But when she came to the jade-green dress, her hands stilled. For the space of a few glorious hours, she’d become the kind of woman who could wear such vividly hued and provocatively designed silk. She’d discovered that woman in Judd’s arms, clasped to his naked body. But now she had to go back to being herself. Blue jeans. A firefighter’s rubber boots.

  If Judd hadn’t bought that dress, she wouldn’t have gone to Dominica. She wouldn’t now be paralyzed by a pain that served only to remind her of those dreadful days after her parents died in the fire, when she’d lost everything known and familiar and taken for granted.

  If she hadn’t gone away with Judd, she’d still have known who she was.

  March merged into April. Winter clung to the city, burying the crocuses and early daffodils in layers of snow and freezing rain. Highway accidents abounded; a rash of false fire alarms had every firefighter in the city on edge. Not that Lise wasn’t on edge to start with.

  The first week she was home she scarcely slept, and when she did, her dreams were haunted by images of Judd. Erotic images, that woke her to an empty bed and a body aching with need. Terrifying images, where he was trapped in a burning jet and she couldn’t rescue him. From these she woke drenched in sweat, her heart racing in her breast.

  How could he, in so short a time, have affected her so strongly? More pragmatically, how was she to endure the long night hours alone in her apartment? Her only choice seemed to be turning off her body altogether. Driving herself so hard at work that she was tired enough to sleep when she got home.

  Forgetting that she had a body. Let alone any sexuality.

  The second week was a nightmare. Three people died in a suspected arson. Dave broke his arm in a warehouse fire; Stephan inhaled smoke and ended up in intensive care.

  Lise’s last shift that week was on Thursday. She got off at six, changed into street clothes and, instead of going home, hurried down the street to the nearest pub. She needed warmth and people and noise. She needed a glass of red wine along with a hot meat pie and French fries smothered in gravy. Too bad about cholesterol. Simple comfort was more important.

  She was going to quit her job. The decision had, somehow, coalesced this week. So she needed to strategize how best to do it, and also how to pay for the vet’s assistant course she was almost sure would be her next move.

  Lise found a table in a secluded corner, placed her order and let th
e first mouthful of wine slide down her throat. Then she uncapped her pen, took out her notebook and began totting up her finances, frowning prodigiously. If only she hadn’t blown so much money on her trip to Paris and Provence last summer; it had made a huge dent in her savings. Money she could now have used.

  “May I join you?”

  Lise would have known that voice anywhere. As her heart gave a treacherous leap of mingled panic and joy, she looked up. “Hello, Judd.”

  He looked impossibly handsome in dark cords, a leather bomber jacket and a deep blue sweater, his black hair disarrayed by the wind. He flung his jacket over the back of the chair and sat down; the waitress, Lise noticed sardonically, came to their table immediately. After Judd had ordered a beer with fish and chips, he leaned forward, his eyes running over her face. “You look god-awful,” he said succinctly.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “I followed you from work.”

  “Really?” she snapped. “And why did you do that?”

  “Figured it was time I tried buying you again,” he said with a feral grin.

  She took a big gulp of wine. “I don’t come cheap.”

  “You said a mouthful there,” Judd said acerbically.

  “You’re a born manipulator.”

  “I just work on the facts.”

  “You work on other people’s weaknesses.”

  Judd raised his brows. “You’re admitting to having some?”

  Oh, yes, Lise thought, I have weaknesses: one of them’s sitting right across from me. And dammit all, for the first time in two weeks, I feel alive.

  The waitress deposited Judd’s beer in front of him. He raised his glass. “Salut.”

  She said levelly, “Are you reoffering me the job as Emmy’s companion?”

  “At double the salary,” he remarked.

  Lise played with her glass, watching light dance fiery-red in the swirling wine. How clever of Judd to wait until her resistance was at its lowest ebb, when she was overwhelmed by the horrifying images of the last few shifts. Her resources drained, her tiredness bone-deep.