Last Chance For Baby. Julianna Morris
Raoul,” Kane interrupted. “One of us will see you home.”
“That would be my privilege,” Raoul insisted.
Kane looked ready to argue, then shrugged. “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t all right with Julia, but once again Raoul had placed her in a difficult position. If she insisted on leaving by herself she’d look like a shrew in front of Kane Haley, so she managed to grit her teeth and not say anything at all.
In the lobby, Raoul looked out at the lightly falling snow and pulled a scarf from his pocket. He turned to Julia, prepared for a battle.
“You must put this around your neck—you’re not dressed for such weather.”
Her stubborn chin lifted. “I’m sure the cab is heated.”
“You should not get chilled, particularly when you aren’t feeling well.”
“Raoul…don’t push.”
The tired plea cut straight to his heart, but he shook his head and drew the silk scarf around her neck. It wasn’t thick enough in such weather, but it would help protect her throat. He would have put his own coat around her, but knew he would lose such an effort. Julia was as skittish as one of his colts back home and she could only be pushed so far. At least she had gloves to wear, though he couldn’t see how the stylishly thin leather could provide the necessary warmth.
Kane was dealing with the bill, so Raoul nodded a farewell to his friend and took Julia’s arm.
“It may be slippery,” he murmured when she tried to shake free.
“I’m more accustomed to walking on ice than you are—or do you have an annual snowfall in Hasan?”
He chuckled. “No snow.”
She plainly wasn’t happy, but he held her firmly as they walked to the taxicab. Hasanian women were fiercely independent in their own way, but they willingly accepted the courtesies required by male honor.
“Really, you don’t have to come with me,” Julia insisted as she slid onto the vehicle seat, and he followed.
“I don’t have all night,” said the cab driver. “I go off shift in half an hour. What’s your address, lady?”
Raoul’s eyes narrowed and he looked every bit an imperious sheik, ruler of his world. “You will wait as long as necessary, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The man ran a finger under his collar and scrunched down farther in the front seat.
Julia sighed. There wasn’t any point in fighting the issue. One way or the other Raoul was coming with her and she might as well get it over with. She gave the driver her address, certain that Raoul would remember both the number and street name. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t stupid, and he was determined to get his answers about their brief affair.
When the taxi pulled into the driveway of her nineteenth-century brick house, set well back from the street, she squared her shoulders. “Uh…thanks. I’ll see you at work.”
A soft laugh came from Raoul as he took the fare from his wallet. “I will see you inside, and call another cab after you’re settled.”
“No.”
“Yes, Julia.” His tone, though gentle, didn’t brook disagreement, and she simply didn’t have the energy to start another argument.
“Fine,” she muttered.
Lord, she was tired. Too tired to fight, which was frightening. It was too easy to let someone else take control, to find yourself struggling for an identity. Raoul was exactly the sort of man she’d vowed to keep out of her life, and here he was, square in the middle of it.
The interior of her house was chilly, and she hurried to the thermostat and pushed it higher.
“Go lie down,” Raoul murmured. “I will fix you something warm to drink.”
Julia found herself obeying before she could even think. In the bedroom she threw off her skirt and sweater and deliberately pulled on a thick velour nightgown that covered her from her neck to her toes—a far cry from the scraps of lace and silk she’d worn during their time in Washington.
Still…she looked at herself in the mirror and decided that even without the less-than-romantic nightwear, she was hardly a candidate for seduction. Her skin was pale, her medium-length shag-cut hair was stringy around her face, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. The extra tiredness was natural. After all, she was pregnant and she’d never expected to see Raoul again. He’d stormed back into her world with the subtleness of a lovesick camel.
Muppet, her five-year-old black-and-white cat, was curled up on the bedroom fireplace hearth. He got up and stretched when she crawled under the down comforter, then wiggled his way under the sheet to settle next to her stomach.
“Hello,” she whispered, running her fingers through his fur. He purred, and the comforting rumble eased some of the tension in her body.
When Raoul left she would have to force herself to eat and drink more milk. It was like a mantra these days. Eat. Eat. Eat. Drink gallons of milk. And pray the baby gained weight. She’d taken her prenatal vitamins that morning, so….
Julia’s eyes flew open.
The vitamins.
She tried to remember where she’d left them. If they were on the kitchen counter, then the secret was probably out. Alarmed, she slid from the bed and went into the bathroom, gratefully closing her fingers around the bottle sitting on the vanity.
“Julia?”
“I’ll be right out.” Quickly she thrust the bottle into a drawer.
Raoul had placed a tray on her bedside table, and he watched as she hurried across the room. Despite the condition of her stomach and nerves, Julia felt a curl of heat in her abdomen. She’d never expected to be in a bedroom with Raoul Oman again, and it was harder to ignore the memories in such a private setting.
And, while she couldn’t tell what Raoul was thinking, there was a certain intensity in his posture that suggested he was remembering, too.
“I prepared tinned soup and tea,” he said. “Get under your blankets before you become chilled.”
“I turned the heat up.”
Raoul kept the smile from his face, knowing it would simply annoy Julia. There had been many surprises about her that day, and her house was another. It was a beautifully restored brick bungalow from the 1800s, with a simple, restful decor that belied the cool sophistication she projected.
“I hope you don’t object, but I made myself a cup of coffee,” he said when she was settled in her bed, resting against a pile of pillows. “But I thought you would prefer the tea I found by your stove. Herbal, I think.”
Julia’s eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him, so pale and beautiful that he wanted to pull her into his arms. Their time together had been so brief, yet it seemed that every cell in his body was imprinted with her warmth and scent. Sometimes at night he woke, thinking she was there, and the desire was so strong he would be unable to sleep again.
“You’re welcome to the coffee,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to be…ungracious.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
He wanted to pursue the reason she’d eluded him following the Washington conference, but he couldn’t. Not when she was so vulnerable. Something told him Julia would only resent him for taking advantage, making things more difficult later.
The blankets next to her stirred as she reached for the cup of soup and a furry head poked itself out. Julia stroked the feline’s head with an absent caress and it settled down, watching Raoul with unblinking eyes.
“Your cat seems suspicious.”
“Muppet