Just For Christmas. Stella Bagwell
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?”