EXPECTANT BRIDE-TO-BE Page 4

  Nothing mattered more to her than lying naked with him in her narrow bed. She needed to love and be loved as much as he seemed to. There was no way she could deny herself the glorious moments to come, and no reason that she should.

  With his first light-as-rain kiss, Jack had chased away the sense of abandonment that had haunted Abby for as long as she could remember. Tonight she would belong to him, heart and mind, body and soul, as he would belong to her. And that belonging would empower them both, their love uniting them in a way that would make possible all the things she had never allowed herself to hope for.

  Still holding Jack's hand, Abby stopped beside her bed and faced him again. The darkness, broken only by the faint light from the living room outlining the doorway, shadowed his features. But she didn't need to see his face clearly to be reassured of his desire. He didn't hesitate a moment before taking her in his arms again, kissing the side of her neck, then the hollow under her ear, making her shiver with wanton delight.

  Seemingly spurred on by her response, he uttered another low groan as he took her mouth in a deep, searing kiss. Rising on the balls of her feet, Abby fit herself to him, undulating against the rigid length of him, eager to feel the proof of his desire as best she could through the layers of clothing they wore.

  Jack groaned yet again, his hands moving down her back and tightening on her hips. Then, astonishingly, he broke off their kiss and, breathing hard, took a determined step back. Too startled by his apparent change of heart to speak, Abby gaped at him for a long moment while she fought to catch her own gasping breath.

  "I can't protect you," he muttered at last, his voice ragged. "I don't have anything with me. So … unless you do … we have to … stop…"

  "Oh, no … I didn't think…" Abby murmured. Totally disoriented, she clutched at the fabric of Jack's sweater as she swayed slightly. She could feel the way his heart raced, much like her own. "And I'm not … I don't—"

  She wasn't on the pill and she didn't have any other form of birth control with her. It had been such a long while since she'd been sexually active that she hadn't thought it necessary to carry anything with her. And never, in her wildest dreams, would she have considered the possibility that she'd end up in Promise, Nevada, standing next to her bed, on the verge of making love with Jack Randall.

  How she wished she had heeded her mother's long ago advice to always keep protection handy—

  Moving his hands from her hips to her shoulders, Jack took another step back.

  "I'm sorry, Abby. I probably shouldn't have—"

  "Wait," she said, her memory of Larissa's advice triggering another recollection.

  She had been looking for a fresh box of tissues in the cabinet under the bathroom sink her first night at home, and hidden behind a can of cleanser and several rolls of toilet paper, she'd come across a partially used box of condoms.

  Abby had been more amused than anything by her discovery. Her mother had always preached the practice of safe sex. Obviously, she had still been practicing what she preached. And thanks to her diligence, so could she and Jack. As long as Jack was still willing.

  "What is it?" he asked, his hands still on her shoulders.

  "In the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom … there's a box of condoms. I saw it the other night."

  Jack didn't say anything for several seconds, but he didn't release his hold on her, either. Her heart pounding, Abby waited for him to make a decision. Finally, he pulled her close and hugged her, hard.

  "I'll get it," he murmured, his voice filled with relief.

  "Down the hall to the left," she said as he turned toward the doorway.

  Abby waited until he'd left the bedroom, then kicked off her shoes and unzipped her dress. She stepped out of it, set it on the chair by her little desk, then slipped out of her stockings, bra and panties. By the time Jack returned, she had crawled into her bed, scooted over to make room for him, and tucked the quilt up around her shoulders.

  Without speaking, Jack set the box of condoms on the nightstand, then turned on the lamp.

  Abby's first instinct was to protest. Then, she saw the blaze of desire in Jack's eyes as his gaze roved over her, and she smiled instead.

  In response to her unconscious invitation, his jaw seemed to tighten. Still silent, he quickly stripped out of his clothes, then seemed to hesitate again.

  Abby stared at him, her mouth going dry as she took in the beauty of his masculinity. When she finally dared to look at his face, she saw that he was now the one smiling, his eyes heavy-lidded, his mouth teasingly seductive.

  "So … you approve?" he asked, his voice low.

  "Oh, yes, I approve," Abby replied, tossing aside the quilt and patting the empty space beside her.

  "Will you do something for me?"

  Though Jack slid into bed beside her, he didn't immediately take her in his arms.

  "What's that?"

  While Abby couldn't think of anything she'd refuse him, the question came out automatically.

  "Will you let me take down your hair?" He reached out a tentative hand, curling an already loosened wisp around his finger.

  "I most certainly will," she agreed, her smile widening.

  Jack made short work of her braid, his fingers deft and clever, yet oh so gentle, as they freed the plait. Then he sifted his hands through the silky strands until he'd spread them over her shoulders in a mass of shimmering waves.

  "You are so damn beautiful," he muttered, meeting her gaze. "So beautiful…"

  He bent his head, growling low in his throat, and kissed her with a hunger that stole her breath away all over again. From one moment to the next, any thought he might have had of holding back seemed to disappear.

  As she had earlier, Abby sensed the almost frightening fierceness of his need. Undaunted, she gave herself to him, heart and soul, reveling in the urgent tug of his mouth on her breast and the boldly probing stroke of his fingertips between her legs.

  He soon had her writhing and twisting under him, begging with wordless cries and shifting hips for more, and then more again until he covered himself with a condom, and almost in the same movement, plunged so deep inside her she called out his name as her body convulsed.

  Rearing back, Jack, too, found release, pounding hard against her as shudder after shudder swept over him.

  Afterward, they lay together in a tangle, panting as if they'd run for miles, their bodies hot and damp with sweat. Neither of them spoke, but as Jack held her close, he gently stroked her hair.

  Curled against him, her head on his chest, Abby blinked back tears of joy. She had never in her life experienced such an overwhelming sense of fulfillment—the kind of fulfillment that only came with love heartfully given and received.

  "I'm sorry I rushed things," Jack said after a while, reaching down to grab the quilt and tuck it up around them. "I really meant to take more time."

  "If I remember correctly, you weren't the only one in a hurry," Abby answered, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips.

  He caught her hand and bit down gently on her wrist, then soothed the spot with a lap of his tongue.

  "Still, I should make it up to you," he insisted, meeting her gaze, his eyes mischievous.

  "Well, yes, I suppose you should…"

  He trailed a line of wet, wanton kisses up the inside of her arm to her shoulder and along the line of her collarbone. Then, using his tongue, he did something truly lascivious to the delicate shell of her ear that had her drawing up her knees in renewed anticipation.

  "Well, then, don't go anywhere," he murmured as he slipped out of bed.

  Abby couldn't have disobeyed him if she'd wanted to. He had turned her bones to jelly, and the sensation was actually quite delightful.

  Jack returned within a matter of minutes. One glance at him assured Abby that he intended to waste no time making up for his prior haste. She reached out for him with undisguised eagerness as he snuggled down beside her, but he seemed to have another idea i
n mind.

  Clasping her wrists loosely in one of his hands, Jack stretched her arms over her head. Then he proceeded to show her—very slowly, but very thoroughly—just how shamelessly passionate he could tempt her to be.

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  « ^ »

  Fighting back yet another wave of panic, Jack forced himself to take slow, deep breaths as he stared into the gradually waning darkness. Beside him in the narrow bed, tucked close to him, spoon-style, Abby slept soundly—one thing, at least, to be grateful for.

  Were she to awaken, he would have to talk to her, and in talking to her, he would have to tell her things she wouldn't like hearing.

  If only he'd had the sense to quit while he was ahead, Jack thought. Then he wouldn't have put himself in such an untenable position. He'd had so many chances to leave well enough alone since he'd first seen Abby in the park. But he had allowed his baser instincts to get the better of him at each and every turning point.

  He could have resisted the urge to kiss her; he could have stopped short of having sex with her; most important, he could have allowed once to be enough.

  Instead, he had gotten himself in deeper than he'd ever intended to be with any woman ever again. And the hell of it was, Abby wasn't just any woman. She was someone very special, someone who deserved a better hand than he was about to deal her.

  As Jack had followed Abby into her bedroom, he had tried to convince himself that they were two adults capable of having recreational sex without any strings attached. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known the intimacies they were about to share would likely hold an altogether different meaning for her.

  She had proven him right as he drove into her, at first slow and steady, then harder, faster. The second time he'd taken her, she had clung to him fiercely, meeting him thrust for thrust, crying out as they found release together, then murmuring softly, "I love you … love you … so much," when he cradled her close in his arms.

  Oddly enough, her words hadn't upset him then. In fact, in all honesty, hearing them had filled him with pleasure, such pleasure that for a few moments, in the afterglow of their lovemaking, he had thought he loved her, too. He'd even come close to telling her so.

  Quickly, though, he had come to his senses.

  He'd been in love with Cindy, deeply and completely, and the pain of losing her had been almost more than he could bear. He never wanted to suffer through anything so devastating again. Allowing himself to love Abby—as he had realized he so easily could—would open him up to the possibility of a whole new world of hurt.

  Luckily, she had been so exhausted that she'd fallen asleep within a matter of minutes after they'd made love that second time. Gently, he had extricated himself from her arms, gathered his clothes, and slipped down the hall to the bathroom.

  Jack had meant to get dressed and leave without waking her. Not exactly the most gentlemanly behavior, but if he stayed, he would very likely say or do something that would only serve to lead Abby on further.

  Better to act like the cad he was and free her from any lingering illusions she might harbor than leave her with hopes and dreams he couldn't fulfill.

  Then, in the bright light of the bathroom's overhead fixture, Jack had seen something that had him choking back a cry of disbelief. The condom he'd been so careful to use had a very obvious tear in it. The protection against pregnancy he'd meant to offer Abby had been no protection at all.

  Stunned, he had cleaned himself up. Instead of dressing, he had gone back to the bedroom and crawled into her bed again. Suddenly, walking out on her without a word had taken on a new and unconscionable twist.

  Granted, odds were against his having impregnated her. But there was always a chance, however slight, that the unthinkable could have happened. His child might very well be growing inside her already, and she had a right to know it so that she could take whatever measures she deemed necessary.

  Jack didn't like the idea of Abby aborting their child—if such a child actually existed. But he couldn't prevent her from doing it, either. She had a promising career ahead of her, and he seriously doubted that taking on the role of single mother was one of her long-term goals.

  What he could do, however, was let her know that if she did choose to take on the responsibility of raising their child, she would be able to count on his financial help. He would provide for her living expenses, hire a full-time nanny for her, pay for the best schools when the time came.

  Hell, he would even offer to marry her if the damned rabbit died—

  With that thought had come what would be the first of several major panic attacks Jack experienced in the hours he lay awake in Abby's bed.

  Marrying Abby was absolutely, positively, out of the question. He simply couldn't do it. Not when he had already come much too close to loving her in the few hours they'd spent together.

  She had already said she loved him. If he proposed to her, she would assume he loved her, too, and she would expect him to act accordingly. For him to do otherwise would hurt her deeply, as would any insistence on his part that their marriage be one of convenience.

  To deny the passion he'd displayed for her during their lovemaking would demean her in a way she didn't deserve. And to try to keep that passion in check while living with her as husband and wife would drive him crazy.

  He would end up so madly in love with her that just the thought of losing her would tie him up in knots.

  Yes, marriage was definitely out of the question. Not that it would even prove necessary. His myriad, mind-boggling what-ifs could very well be all for naught because their one act of unprotected sexual intercourse would more than likely have no repercussions at all for either one of them.

  And should Abby end up pregnant, Jack reminded himself, it wouldn't be his fault alone.

  The box of condoms he had found under the sink could have expired years ago. And while he hadn't thought to check, neither had she. They had both taken an equal chance using them.

  So if, by some fluke, a pregnancy did result, Abby would have to be the one to decide what she wanted to do about it. Whether or not to include him in her decision would be her choice, as well.

  He would give her all the help he could—at a distance, as a friend. And though he would miss being a part of the child's life, the other alternative—taking on the responsibilities of husband and father, with all the emotional involvement that would entail—was strictly out of the question.

  He had barely survived losing Cindy. He wasn't about to set himself up for other, equally devastating losses when he'd gotten by on his own just fine the past few years.

  His mind made up, Jack finally eased out of Abby's bed again. Carefully, he pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, then couldn't resist the urge to feather a last, light kiss on her velvety cheek. To his relief, she barely stirred, but the room had grown light enough for him to see the faint smile that turned up the corners of her mouth.

  His body responded with a speed and intensity that nearly knocked his knees out from under him. Only by reminding himself of the trouble he had already caused them both did he find the strength to turn away from her.

  In the bathroom once more, he dressed quickly, then made his way to the kitchen where he found paper and a pen in one of the drawers.

  He wrote quickly—just the bare facts—included his telephone number in Houston as well as his parents' telephone number in Promise, and signed his name with a flourish. He propped the note against the salt-and-pepper shakers on the table so Abby would be sure to see it, then collected his coat from the hallway and let himself out the front door.

  Already the sky had begun to turn a pale pink on the eastern horizon. Without glancing at his watch, Jack knew it was after six. He would have barely enough time to get home, pack his suitcase and make the drive to Las Vegas to catch his nine o'clock flight to Houston. Gratefully, he noted that at least the weather had cleared overnight.

  He was almost to his rental car w
hen he saw the elderly woman, bundled up in a fuzzy robe, walking a tiny, equally aged white poodle along the swatch of grass that edged the driveway. Startled, he hesitated a moment, uncertain what to say to her, if anything.

  The woman stared back at him with obvious interest, an avid gleam in her eyes, then spoke in a surprisingly strong voice considering her small stature.

  "You're the Randalls' boy, aren't you? Don't suppose you remember me. I worked at your father's bank up until five years ago when I retired. Constance Beckworth is my name." She paused for half a beat, only giving Jack time to nod and smile in feigned recognition. Then she added with a malicious grin, "I thought I'd seen the last of the overnight guests slipping out of that house at dawn when the Summers woman passed away a few days ago. But it looks like the apple didn't fall far from the tree … if you get my drift. I'd be careful, though … a nice young man like you. You don't want to get yourself tied up with the likes of them."

  Jack's smile froze on his face as he realized what the old woman was insinuating about Abby … his Abby. Outrage on her behalf warred with a full measure of shame for opening her up to the gossip-mongering that would surely follow this unfortunate incident.

  He had no doubt Constance Beckworth would see to it that news of Abby's overnight guest was spread all over town, and there wasn't much he could do to stop her.

  Leveling a stern gaze the woman's way, Jack said, "Don't believe everything you see, Mrs. Beckworth. Abby's just a friend. A good friend who recently lost her mother. I would hope you'd be more interested in offering her a little sympathy rather than talking about her so unkindly."

  Mrs. Beckworth turned away from him with a derisive sniff, letting him know exactly what she thought of that idea, then called to her little dog.

  Cursing her as well as himself, Jack ducked into his car and started the engine. Never in a million years had he intended to cause Abby so many problems, but it seemed that was exactly what he'd done.