The Bachelor's Bride. Audra Adams
was able to medically prove the woman wrong and win the case, it had been an expensive and embarrassing undertaking.
Since then he’d become twice shy when it came to relationships. In the last several years, despite newspaper items to the contrary, there had been fewer and fewer women in his life, to the point where he spent a good part of the year alone. And when he chose otherwise, he was particularly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia when it came to using protection. And such had been the case with Rachel.
But condoms didn’t always work—his parents could attest to that—and for that he owed her the benefit of the doubt.
“Better?” he asked as she placed the teacup on the tray.
“Yes. Much.” She looked up at him. “What did you want to ask me?”
“If what you say is true—”
“It is.”
“Then, I suppose I’m asking what you intend to do.”
Rachel toyed with the delicate handle of the teacup. “There are options...choices,” she said softly.
“Yes. Have you made any decision yet?”
She shook her head slowly. “No.” She looked up at him. “I haven’t.”
They stared at each other for the longest time, all those troubling questions with no satisfactory answers hanging in the air between them.
Reid squashed the cigarette in an ashtray. “I’d like to be included in that decision-making process, if I may?”
“Then you believe me?”
He sat back in his chair. “Not necessarily.”
“Then why bother? When I walk out of here today, you don’t ever have to see me again. I promise not to involve you in any way.”
“There is always the possibility that you are telling the truth,” he said. “If that’s the case, Rachel, have no doubts, I will be involved. I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said.
“Are you going to investigate my background, Mr. James?” she asked sarcastically.
He stood. “As a matter of fact, I am, Rachel. And, oh, let’s dispense with the formalities. A little late for that, don’t you think? Call me Reid.” He paused and pinned her with his eyes. “You did that night...over and over again.”
Rachel’s throat went dry. She swallowed. “I don’t remember.”
Reid came to her, and she looked up at him. His face was intense, his eyes as green as a meadow in spring. Placing one hand on each armrest, he effectively trapped her in the chair.
“Then let me refresh your memory.”
His mouth came down on hers. Rachel remained absolutely still with no thought of resistance. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she parted her lips for him. And as night follows day, his tongue swept into her mouth, met hers, mated, and danced a lovers’ dance.
The first thing that registered in Rachel’s mind was the heat. She remembered that with crystal clarity. Then his scent washed over her, his taste, and a flash flood of memories engulfed her. A powerful twinge of desire unfurled in her belly as his heat drifted down through her mouth into all the vital parts of her body.
Her pulse accelerated to an alarming rate. Her head lolled back against the chair and he followed, opening his mouth wider, deepening the kiss, taking as much as she was willing to give. More.
Reid felt like an alcoholic denied drink for too long, freed at last to have a taste, just this one and no more. His heart and head pounded in tandem as he drank his fill. She whimpered, and the sound vibrated into him, his mouth, his heart, his soul.
His arms began to tremble from exertion and something else he didn’t dare name, and the fear returned.
He released her.
They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart, their breathing labored as if they’d been running.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, uncharacteristically apologizing, not knowing why, only feeling the need to do so.
Rachel touched her swollen lips with her fingertips. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
His hands in fists, Reid took a step back from her and shook his head as if to clear it, more for himself than to answer her question.
He half turned and looked at her. “I had to see if your dream had just been my imagination.”
Rachel nodded, knowing what he meant, understanding that he needed verification that they had, indeed, been together, been more to each other than casual acquaintances at a party. The baby notwithtanding—it still didn’t seem quite real enough to her yet—like he, she’d needed some proof now, some tangible evidence that the dream had, indeed, been real.
And if nothing else, the kiss had proved that.
To both of them.
He’d kissed her, but she’d known how to kiss him back. She’d known exactly how to respond to him. It wasn’t something that happened instinctively with a first kiss. That knowledge only came with practice, and consciously, or unconsciously, Rachel had known what he’d wanted from her and how to give it to him.
A knock sounded and Trudy stuck her head in the door. “Are you two all right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Reid said, walking back around his desk. “We’re fine.”
“May I come in?”
“Please,” Rachel answered.
Her gaze locked with Reid’s. Her eyes told him their talk had ended. His said yes...for now.
“If that’s all...” Rachel said to him as she stood.
“May I call you?” he asked.
“I...” Rachel looked to Trudy, then back to Reid. “Yes, if you wish.”
“I do.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll go home with you,” Trudy said, then turned to Reid. “Unless you need me for something?”
Reid shook his head. “No,” he said as he walked the two women to the door, opened and held it for them.
Rachel turned to him, feeling ridiculously awkward. She held out her hand. “Goodbye...Reid.”
“Thank you for coming,” he said politely, and shook her hand.
His hand said one thing, his eyes another. Rachel wondered which message was for her. Perhaps both, she mused, and gave him a tentative smile as she left.
Reid stood in his doorway staring into space long after Rachel and Trudy departed. Charlotte studied him, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she resumed typing. The sound galvanized him and he pushed himself to move.
“Charlotte,” he said as he turned to reenter his office. “Get Mazelli back on the phone.”
* * *
Rachel’s visit to the doctor confirmed what she already knew to be true. She spent the first week of August thinking. Options, she’d told Reid. Choices. There were many in this day and age, but for some reason, she felt hers were limited.
She was thirty years old. Not old, but not young, either. A perfect age, really, to take on the responsibilities of motherhood. If she had married Tom, this would have been just about the time they would be starting their family. But she hadn’t married Tom. She hadn’t married anyone. And there was no one on the romantic horizon.
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