The Bachelor's Bride. Audra Adams
York City two years ago after her mother’s death and the breakup of her engagement to Tom. There was no one in her life—if you could call the mess she’d made of things to date a life. Biting her lip, she fought back tears.
Jobless. And now pregnant.
But again, the how came back to haunt her. She was a rational human being. There was no such thing as an immaculate conception—at least not that she knew of, not in this day and age, and not to someone as imperfect as she. So there had to be another explanation. Her stomach churned.
Which meant that The Dream had to be real.
The phone rang and she forced herself to rise and walk into the L-shaped room that served as her kitchen, living room and bedroom. She sat on the edge of her Murphy bed and lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Rachel? Trudy. I’m glad I caught you. I may have a lead on a job. One of our suppliers is looking—”
“I’m pregnant.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“How?”
“Darned if I know. I’m sitting here trying to figure it out.” She didn’t mention the nausea or the shaking.
“Don’t move,” Trudy said. “I’ll be right over.”
A half hour later Rachel’s buzzer sounded. She pressed the button and leaned into it, then waited at the door until she heard the elevator ping. Opening the door, she rested against the jamb and watched her best friend in the entire world walk toward her.
A tall, slim, gorgeous redhead, Trudy Levin was a walking neurosis—ambitious, hyper, driven to succeed in the high-powered world of the cosmetics industry.
When Rachel had first arrived in the city two years ago, she had “hick” written all over her. They’d met on the subway when Rachel had gotten hopelessly lost going crosstown. Trudy, a rare Manhattan native, had rescued her, yapping on her heels like a mother hen. They’d been fast friends ever since.
“I don’t believe this,” Trudy said, brushing past Rachel as she hurried into the apartment. But then, Trudy didn’t walk, she hurried—everywhere.
Rachel made a slow turn and shut the door behind her.
“Lock it,” Trudy said, dropping her oversize bag onto a kitchen chair.
Rachel smiled and obeyed. Trudy was always ordering her around, mostly with warnings on how to survive in the big, bad city. Rachel knew she did it out of love, and found it no chore to deal with her friend’s paranoia.
“Now, tell me what happened.”
Rachel lifted the wand off the counter with more aplomb than she felt and held it out for Trudy’s inspection. “Blue.”
“I don’t believe it,” Trudy repeated.
“How do you think I feel?” Rachel said.
To cover her agitation, Rachel busied herself at the sink. She filled the teakettle with water, then placed it on the front burner. With a flick of her wrist, the flame erupted underneath.
“I’m hurt. Didn’t I tell you all about Jake when I met him? Didn’t I fill you in on every dirty detail of every date? Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” Trudy asked, a puzzled, pained expression on her face.
“Because I’m not.”
“Then who...”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No, it’s true. I have no idea who the father is.”
Trudy walked over to Rachel. She gripped Rachel’s shoulders in her hands and turned her around so that they faced each other.
“Look at me.” Rachel complied, and Trudy’s voice softened when she noticed the tears threatening. “Honey, I know you’re a country girl and all that, but even you know that this isn’t something you pick up from a toilet seat at a department store.”
Rachel attempted a smile. “I know...”
“Then who—”
The teakettle began to whistle and Rachel lifted it off the burner and extinguished the flame. She held the steaming pot aloft as she looked up at Trudy. “It must have been the dream.”
“Dream?”
“You remember, the one I told you about. The one I had when I was sick with the flu.”
“The White Dream?”
Rachel gave her a wry grin. “Yes. The White Dream.”
Trudy dropped into the chair. “Okay. Let’s figure this out.”
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah. Lemon and a half—”
“I know. A half packet of sweetener.”
Rachel set the small, two-seater table with napkins and spoons and prepared the mugs of tea. She looked up at Trudy, feeling herself steady a bit now that her friend was here, now that she had someone to share this with.
Once they were seated opposite each other and the first sip had been taken, Trudy leaned forward and patted her hand. “Now, tell me from the beginning.”
“I don’t remember the beginning. Just the end.”
“Then tell me the end.”
Rachel took a second small sip of the hot liquid. “It must have happened the night I got sick. Remember that?”
“Yeah,” Trudy said. “You came with me to the launch party for the new perfume. You had a bad cold.”
“And I was on antibiotics. I shouldn’t have gone out, but you insisted.”
“So it’s my fault.”
Rachel shook her head. “No, of course not. I just remember you insisting that I go. You wanted me to get out, meet people, maybe make a contact for a job.”
“Right. We stayed at the party until late. We were almost the last to leave. I remember it was so crowded at the armory I couldn’t find you. I walked the hall a hundred times, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you disappeared.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“I found you out front, sitting on a stoop, with your head against the railing. You’d fallen asleep. When I woke you up, you were white as a ghost and felt sick to your stomach. We left right then. I hailed a cab and brought you up here and put you to bed. Do you remember any of this?”
“No. I just remember going with you to the party. I remember walking into the hall, having something to drink...some kind of punch—”
“The punch was spiked.”
Rachel stared into space. “I don’t know about that, either. The rest of the night is a blank.”
Trudy took her hand. Rachel noticed the concern in her face.
“Tell me about the dream,” Trudy said.
“It’s hard. It’s so jumbled.”
“Try.”
She took a breath and let it out slowly. “There was a man, and we...we were...”
“Having sex.”
“Yes.” Rachel blushed.
“In the white room?”
“Yes.”
“And when did you first have this dream?” Trudy asked.
“The