The Bachelor's Bride. Audra Adams
“You don’t remember making love—”
“No...yes...but only afterward. I thought it was a dream.”
“You said that. What made you change your mind?”
Rachel blew out a breath to steady her nerves. She was trembling so badly she had to sit back in the chair and grip the armrests to stop herself from visibly shaking.
“Something’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant.”
Reid stared at her. He didn’t think anything could shock him more than her unexpected appearance. But she’d topped that. And then some. He kept his expression neutral, no easy feat when his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought the buttons on his shirt would pop.
“And you’re here to claim that I’m the father?”
“There’s no other explanation,” she said.
“I could think of a few.”
Rachel’s hands formed into fists. She had to remain in control. This was difficult enough without her losing it. Of course he would be skeptical. Who wouldn’t be? Yet he had a right to know, whether he believed her or not.
She licked her lips. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m thinking,” he said with a raw politeness that bordered on contempt.
“Yes, I do. You think I’m after money or something. Well, I’m not. I don’t want anything from you.” She stood. “When Trudy and I finally figured out what must have happened, I asked her to bring me here. I thought you had a right to know. No more, no less.” Rachel eased herself away from the chair and headed for the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
“Stop right there,” he said.
“I’m not one of your underlings, Mr. James, you can’t order me around.”
“Come back.” When she didn’t move, he gritted his teeth and added, “Please...”
Rachel looked across the room into crystal green eyes. The intensity of his gaze was overpowering and it propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet from him. “I have nothing else to say to you,” she said.
“Well, I have some things I’d like to say to you, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
Reid moved away from the couch. His mind was reeling. With the ease and grace of a man used to getting his own way all the time, he walked over to his desk. He lifted a gold cigarette case off the mahogany top and flipped it open, extracting one and slipping it between his lips.
“Cigarette?” he asked, then added, “No. I forgot. You don’t smoke. Tried it once when you were sixteen and made yourself sick.”
Rachel’s chin came up as a chill ran down her spine. She had told him things about herself. Details about her life. Yet all she had from him came through Trudy and what she’d read in the papers. All secondhand.
Except, that is, for the child she carried.
A wave of weakness overcame her and she swayed. “I’d like to sit down,” she said in a small voice, and moved toward the leather chair in front of his desk.
“How about some coffee? Or tea?” he asked.
“Tea would be wonderful.”
Reid pressed the intercom and placed the order with Charlotte.
“You don’t look well,” he said, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” She looked up at him. “Normal, I’m told, under the circumstances.”
He gave her a curt nod and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag into his lungs as Charlotte brought in a cup of tea on a tray. She carried his finest china service, the one reserved for important guests, foreign dignitaries and the like. Reid caught his assistant’s eye and questioned her with a glance. She smiled, a Mona Lisa smile that said she knew too much.
Damn Trudy. He’d better nip this bit of news in the bud or the entire building would know about it before five o’clock quitting time.
“Thank you,” Rachel said as she accepted a cup from Charlotte.
“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said. “If you need anything else, just call.”
“That will be all, Charlotte,” Reid said, dismissing her.
She smiled again as she left, and Reid gave her an imperceptible shake-of-the-head warning before returning his attention to the woman across from him.
As Rachel doctored the tea, Reid studied her through a haze of smoke, his eyes hooded, his brain racing. He attempted to conjure up that night once again, more pragmatically this time, without the warm, fuzzy feeling that always seemed to engulf him whenever he thought of her.
That day had been hell. By five o’clock he’d had a raging headache, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to make the obligatory appearance at the perfume launch party. But he’d relented and agreed to attend. He’d milled around the room several times, shaking hands, making nice to all the media people. The place was packed to capacity, invitations having spawned invitations like rabbits in a warren. They’d rented the armory for the event, which was only blocks from his town house, and the temptation to cut out early was too great to ignore. He had been just about to do that when he’d spotted her.
Like a scene out of an old movie, the hoards of people had faded into the background as their eyes met across the room. Without much thought, he’d changed direction and walked over to her. She’d smiled, and the pounding in his head had seemed to subside. They’d talked party talk, and she’d made him laugh. No easy feat under the best of circumstances, but that night of all nights it had seemed almost miraculous.
He’d asked her to get some air, go for a walk, and she’d accepted. Moving slowly through the crowd, they’d managed to leave without anyone noticing. The night was warm, humid, and after a block or two their clothing had stuck to them. He hadn’t planned it, but they’d ended up near his town house. He’d invited her up for a cool drink, and she’d accepted.
The memories swirled around him as he gazed across the desk at her sipping her tea. She glanced at him over the rim of the cup.
The warm fuzzies returned. He couldn’t remember the rest of the evening without them. She’d been so...real. They’d talked as if they’d known each other all their lives. When she’d commented on the decor, he’d taken her on a tour of the town house, ending up in his top-floor bedroom. She’d teased him about the size of his bed, and he’d jokingly told her to test it out. With lazy informality, she’d stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the feel of his white satin sheets.
It was then that their eyes had met once again and the same tug that had pulled him to her at the party had brought him to sit on the edge of the bed.
She’d been so unselfconscious that it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.
And then he’d lost it. All sense of time, place, reality...control. They’d made love with such freedom, such comfort, it had seemed as if they’d been at it for years.
Which was why he couldn’t forget it.
And if it had been that special for him, it had to have been that way for her, as well.
Which was also why he wasn’t buying her claim that she couldn’t remember any of this.
Was it all an act? He couldn’t know, not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to check her out. But she knew Trudy Levin and that was a plus in her favor. Trudy had been with him a long time, and he trusted her completely.