Nine Months with Thomas, page 13
He smiled.
Meghan yawned.
“Are you tired?”
“A little,” she said. “It’s normal, according to what I’ve read. I take a nap in the afternoon.”
“Do you feel all right?”
“I feel fine. Now tell me, how was your day?”
“It was good. We got a new client. Well, almost one. I’ll have to go to San Antonio in a week to finalize the details.”
Meghan felt as if a part of her had been torn away. “How long will you be gone?” she asked.
“Three or four days.”
He was often away that long, staying in the city instead of making the long drive every day, but somehow two thousand miles seemed like the end of the earth.
“Will you be all right here alone? I can ask Mrs. Barrie to stay the night.”
“She doesn’t stay when you go to your apartment.”
“I know, but I’d feel more comfortable knowing you weren’t alone.”
“Would you take me with you?” The words were out before she could call them back. Thomas stared at her. “I know it’s an imposition. I just thought…”
“Do you really want to go?”
“I’ve never been to San Antonio.”
“What about the baby?”
That would be his first concern, Meghan thought. “I’m only two months pregnant. I have no medical restrictions.”
“I just thought…traveling…” He hesitated.
Meghan remembered that Ruth had died in a car accident. Thomas was probably thinking that she could die the same way.
“I won’t be driving.”
“That doesn’t matter. Are you sure you want to go?”
“I won’t interfere in your business. And I can entertain myself.”
“I’ll have the tickets ordered,” he said.
Meghan nearly threw herself into his arms. At the last minute she remembered to keep her hands to herself.
San Antonio was hot, dusty and monochromatic. Thomas spent most of the day and part of the night in meetings. He came in exhausted. Meghan was on her own most of the time. She toured the famous Alamo and surrounding area, but found being away from Baltimore was just as boring as staying alone in the house.
Looking out of the hotel window, Meghan saw the dusty landscape fanning to the horizon. Below her was the pool. The water was crystal clear and looked inviting.
Twenty minutes later she was swimming laps. She swam until she was tired, then took one of the lawn chairs and sat in the hot, dry air. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the exercise and her pregnancy conspired against her. Her eyelids drooped and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
“Mrs. Worthington-Yates?”
Meghan thought she heard her name three times before she opened her eyes. She was not used to being called by Thomas’s last name. Her name was Meghan Howard, but to the world she was now Mrs. Worthington-Yates.
“You’ve been asleep for half an hour. The sun can really burn you out here.” A pool attendant spoke to her, a short Latina woman with an armload of towels.
“Oh, I didn’t intend to fall asleep. Thank you for waking me.” Meghan sat up and cried out in pain. Instinctively, her hand went to her arm, but touching herself only caused more pain.
“Here,” the attendance said, handing her a tube of aloe. “Don’t shower. The spray will sting. Take a cool bath and put this on the burns afterwards. It’ll take the sting out. You’ll be all right in a couple of days.”
Meghan struggled to her feet and gingerly walked to the elevator and back to her room. Seeing her reflection in the mirror had her making a horrible face. She looked as if she was wearing a mask. Her sunglasses had covered her eyes and prevented the sun from deepening the color over that part of her face. Her nose was Rudolph-red. Her arms and legs that hadn’t been covered by her one-piece bathing suit had darkened to burnt gold.
No way could she hide this from Thomas. When he got in, she was usually asleep, but she always got up to have breakfast with him. If she didn’t show up in the morning, he’d come investigating. His first concern would be for the baby, so he’d make sure she was all right before going out. She didn’t think she’d hurt the baby. Millions of women got sunburned and she’d never heard anything about that having an effect on the fetus.
She ran water in the bathtub and slipped down into it. The soft cloths provided by the hotel were too rough for her skin.
“Stupid,” she told herself as she soaped the cloth and used it to drop water on her body. Using the same method, she rinsed herself and softly pressed the plush towels on her wet skin until it was only slightly damp. Air dried the rest of her.
Then she slipped into a long-sleeved blouse she’d brought because the air conditioner might be too cold and a pair of long cotton pants. Most of her was covered either with cloth or makeup when Thomas came in earlier than expected.
“Meghan?” Thomas called her name. She jerked at the unexpectedness of hearing him. Tiny soldiers with bayonets stabbed her arms and legs. She bit back the scream that jumped into her throat.
Another step and he’d see her. She’d done what the attendant told her to do, but she hadn’t added any makeup to her face, only some creams and lotions.
“I thought we could go—” He stopped as soon as she swung her head to look at her. “What happened?”
In one step, he was beside her. He bent down to inspect her face.
“I fell asleep in the sun,” she admitted. “I know I look like I’m wearing a mask.”
He laughed. “You do at that.”
Meghan would have swiped her hand at him, if she wasn’t aware that the action would cause pain in her arm. “If the attendant hadn’t wakened me, I’d probably need medical care.”
“This isn’t permanent?” He pulled an empty chair up next to her and sat down.
She shook her head. “In a couple of days I’ll be back to normal. At least that’s what the attendant said.” She paused. “You were saying something when you came in.”
“Oh, I thought we’d stay two extra days, go out tonight, have dinner, do some sightseeing. You should really see the city and I know I’ve left you alone since we arrived.”
“Does this mean you’ve completed your business?”
“All done. I can relax for a couple of days.”
He was practically oozing happiness. “And it worked out well?”
“Better than well.” He leaned toward her. The chair he’d pulled up was close enough for their knees to touch, but Meghan’s were under the desk, safely protected by loose-fitting pants. “We got the contract with all the conditions my legal staff said we needed.”
“Congratulations.” She reached for his arm, but stopped before touching him. “This will be a celebration?”
“Yes, we’re going to go out with another couple.”
“I didn’t think any of the others had brought their spouses.” She could have had company on her solitary trips. If only she’d known one of the other wives was in the hotel.
“They didn’t. Bill Stone’s wife is flying in today. The others are going home tonight.”
“Bill? He’s one of the lawyers, right?”
“Right.”
“What time is dinner?”
“We’re meeting them at seven downstairs.”
“I’ll be ready.” Meghan smiled but wondered if she’d be able to walk with the sunburn.
“Bill’s wife’s name is Donna. The two of you will have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
“She’s pregnant with their third child. Three or four months, I believe.”
“Do they know I’m pregnant? I mean, have you told the people at your office?”
Thomas shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Being cautious?”
“Maybe. I’ve been through this several times and I don’t want to announce anything and then have something go wrong.”
“Thomas, nothing is going to go wrong. This is the miracle baby.” She smiled and he did, too. Meghan wanted to touch him. She clasped her hands to keep from doing it. “I’m healthy and in reasonably good shape. I’m taking all of my vitamins and getting plenty of exercise.”
“I know. But up until the end of the second trimester you’re still at risk to miscarry.”
“I’ll be careful,” she said.
Thomas reached over and took one of her hands. She swung around in the chair and he took the other one. It was the first time he’d touched her in a long time. While most of her body was sunburned, her hands had been protected by the towel she’d used to dry off after her swim. She’d draped it across her midsection. Yet her hands trembled when Thomas folded them in his larger ones.
They both stared at their entwined fingers. Meghan felt the heat of his fingertips climbing up her arms and doing battle with the bayonet soldiers for dominance along her skin. Thomas’s assault forces won. Meghan lifted her eyes. Thomas’s gaze bore deeply into hers. She saw desire there. Her body suffused with need for him.
She felt the electricity that always accompanied his presence kick up a few kilowatts. The room seemed dim. Meghan didn’t know if it was cloud covering the sun outside or her eyelids dropping that blocked out the light. Her body searched for something to ground the power of Thomas’s attraction, but found nothing. She leaned forward, unable and unwilling to stop herself. She wanted him, craved his touch, hungered to feel his body against hers just once more.
Her chair creaked. The effect was that of a pin bursting the balloon that had blown up around them, enveloping them in a world of rapture. Meghan’s eyes snapped wide and she pushed back. At the same time, Thomas dropped his hold on her hands and moved away, too.
He stood up, stepping away from her. “I’m going to shower,” he said.
Too much information, Meghan thought. Directly after she’d leaned in to kiss him, he presented her with an image of his naked body, wet and hard.
This arrangement was not working. Cool water sluiced over Thomas’s neck and shoulders, but it didn’t calm his rapidly beating heart or the fact that he wanted to take her to bed and keep her there for as long as he was physically able.
Ruth had stood between them. Thomas had sworn he’d never fall in love again and he was not admitting that the loved Meghan now, but he wanted her. More than he’d wanted the other women in his life. He knew he could fall in love in this one.
And now there was a baby. Not their baby, but his and Ruth’s. He poured shampoo on his hair and thought about how he’d gotten into this situation. He was sure it would be a contractual situation, like the one he’d just completed. But this was Meghan and the contract was missing one thing—the arm’s-length transaction. She wasn’t an arm’s length away. He didn’t want her that far. He wanted her inside his arms. It didn’t matter that she slept more than an arm’s length from him. It didn’t matter than he’d spent this entire trip at meetings avoiding her. She distracted him just by being alive. She entered his dreams and popped into his head at odd moments.
He’d lift a cup of coffee and remember her drinking decaf during one of their evening talks. He’d see a woman in shorts and remember Meghan’s long legs in her jogging pants. At night when he returned to the suite, he couldn’t resist checking to see if she was all right.
But where did that leave him and Ruth? And what about the child? Meghan was pregnant. There was another life to consider. And Meghan had told him renegotiation wasn’t something she was open to.
Thomas had rarely been in this position before. He usually got his way. But never had he dealt in human flesh. Switching off the taps, he stepped from the shower and wrapped his body in a towel.
Stepping into the bedroom, he had no doubt that he wanted to deal in Meghan’s flesh.
When he came out of the bedroom forty minutes later, he’d shaved and dressed. Meghan sat on a barstool at the counter. She slipped off of it and faced him when she heard the click of his door. Thomas let out a long slow breath.
“Wow,” he said. He’d said it the first time she’d bowled him over and each time since. She wore a long, floral dress that had only tantalized him in his want to slip his hands across it and around her slight body.
“Wow,” Meghan answered. It had become their greeting, but Thomas meant it. The lighting suited her, casting a soft glow on her newly tanned face. Her feet were bare, showing unpainted toenails. Hair with reddish highlights glowed about her face like a frame.
“What did you do to your face?”
“Makeup,” she said. “I hope it isn’t too much.”
Thomas walked to her. He stopped barely a foot away. He noticed her breathing, the rising and falling of her breasts. It seemed a little shallow, as if she were intentionally trying to control it.
“No,” he said. “It’s perfect.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. Thomas was in danger of catching her to him. “Shoes?” he asked.
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to wear shoes?”
She looked down, wiggled her toes and looked back at him.
“My feet are much more comfortable without them,” she said. Then she slipped them into the sandals sitting by the barstool. Thomas wished he’d declined dinner with Bill and Donna. He’d much rather spend it alone with Meghan, even though he knew how dangerous that could be.
Chapter 12
Eliza Doolittle had nothing on Meghan Worthington-Yates. Meghan could have danced all night, too. Bill and Donna Stone were a wonderful couple. Meghan enjoyed talking to her. Bill was a lawyer and Donna, in addition to mothering two children and carrying the third, was a dentist with a lucrative practice in Baltimore.
But despite their engaging conversation, the evening was capped by her dancing with Thomas. Being in his arms with the music surrounding them was like heaven. She only slightly felt the effects of her afternoon in the sun. Maybe she would pay for it later, but she didn’t care. She got to be in his arms, to close her eyes and feel him, smell his unique scent.
She hummed as they got off the elevator and Thomas opened the door to the now dark suite. Meghan stopped short and stepped out of her shoes. Thomas walked into her. His arm instinctively came out to save her from toppling forward.
Meghan could not stop the cry of pain that shot through her arms when his arms pulled her against him.
“Are you all right?” Thomas asked, but he didn’t release her.
Meghan nodded. He turned her into his arms. Meghan winced, but kept her head low so he couldn’t see her face.
“I can’t live like this, Meghan,” Thomas said. “You’re driving me crazy.”
He lifted her face then, saw the look in her eyes. Meghan couldn’t have disguised it if she wanted to. All those times they’d walked on eggshells had been to keep from breaking the fragile membrane separating them. Meghan knew she should step back. She should move out of his arms and escape to the safety of her bedroom. But his eyes were holding her. She couldn’t move, didn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was.
Meghan moved first, but Thomas met her. Crushing her to him, his mouth was hard as it took hers. She tasted the sweetness of the wine he’d drank at dinner. His arms tightened around her. But lying still wasn’t something she could do. His mouth tantalized hers. She trembled in his arms. Her arms lifted, searching, finding and circling his neck. She pressed into him, her fingers caressing the nape of his neck as his mouth forced her head back.
His hands moved around her back, his fingers drawing downward from her breasts to her hips. Thomas cupped her bottom and pulled her into him. Meghan settled her body into his as if they were two halves of the same whole.
His lips slipped from her mouth to her neck. Meghan’s head fell back, giving Thomas greater access, relishing the flood of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.
Meghan’s heart raced. Her senses threatened to overload. She felt like fire, sure that combustion would take place at any moment.
Thomas’s hand found the zipper on her dress and she felt the air on her back as he pulled it down. Meghan breathed heavily. Anticipation and passion vied for control. His head lifted and he looked into her eyes. Then his mouth repositioned on hers. He squeezed her to him, drawing her shoulders close. The dress fell off her shoulders, passing her fingers. Without a sound, it fell to the floor.
Thomas looked at her. Meghan felt no modesty under his gaze. He kissed her shoulder, roughly. Meghan winced at his touch. Thomas stopped. He stepped back, looking at her. Suddenly everything changed.
“Ruth, what have you done?”
Meghan went cold. Her body froze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her body was numb. Where things had been hot, they were now icy, frigid. Meghan felt naked. She wanted to put her hands up and protect her, run from Thomas’s eyes.
She took two steps back, each one out of the dress that lay at her feet. She didn’t look down, but kept her gaze steady on the man in front of her.
“Meghan,” she said, her voice no lower than a soft whisper. “Meghan. Not Ruth.”
She was avoiding him. And rightly so. All the ground he and Meghan had gained was lost with a single word. It hadn’t been intentional. Then it never is in those situations. Thomas looked at the photo of Ruth on his desk.
“You knew this wouldn’t work from the beginning, didn’t you?” he asked the immobile figure. Ruth smiled at him, unchanging. She wasn’t there to answer his questions, to help him through situations the way she had done in the past. He loved her. He’d always love her. But now there was Meghan. And Thomas knew Meghan had melted the ice around his heart.
He no longer stayed in Baltimore overnight. He made the trip home every night in hopes of being with her. He’d been doing it for nearly three weeks. Meghan was polite, but she went no further toward being friendly.
Thomas missed talking to her. Their after-dinner conversations came to an abrupt halt after San Antonio. Meghan accepted his apology, but went back to being a guest in his house. She didn’t keep to her rooms. He knew she swam and went for walks. She shopped with Mrs. Barrie and had lunch with some of the neighbors, people Thomas hadn’t met in all the years he’d owned the house. Often he could hear her laughing in the kitchen or enjoying a television comedy. When he came in, she would change. All the laughter went out of her and she’d find she needed to do something in another part of the house.
