Bundle of Joy (20 page)

Sam pulled off her mitten with her teeth and pressed her bare palm against Carly's forehead. "Cool as a cucumber," she said. "You're just fine."

"My stomach hurts," said Carly. "Maybe it's appendicitis."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Carly Bradley," said Sam in exasperation, "except these fibs you're telling."

"I don't want to go to school," Carly whispered. "I can't."

Suddenly Sam's dark blue eyes softened with understanding. "You don't have a present for the grab bag, do you?"

Carly shook her head and whispered, "No."

"And you don't have anything Christmas-y to wear?"

Carly shook her head again. "Mom said there's no extra money and that everyone will have to understand." There was truth to her mother's words but Carly at eleven was too young to hear it. Besides, eleven year old children weren't known for their compassion. She would be the laughingstock of the school, like one of those poor kids who the nuns forced to take baskets of food for their families. Imagine taking charity from nuns who'd been sworn to vows of poverty! She would rather be dead.

"I have an idea," said Sam after a minute. "Let's go back to my house."

"We can't! We'll be late for school."

"It's your choice, Carly. You can either be late for school or go without candy-cane knee socks."

Carly's eyes widened. "You mean like the ones in the window of Bantam's?"

"Exactly."

They'd be just the thing to perk up her dark green wool skirt and white blouse. She'd look so Christmas-y, like one of the crowd.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Sam's hand and starting to run. "If we hurry we can get to your house and back to school before they take attendance."

#

Caroline wanted nothing more than to go home, put on a pair of those candy-cane knee
socks and a comfortable nightgown, and watch television. It would be wonderful if Charlie happened to be there, as well, but she'd never been one to wish for the impossible.

"I'm afraid late nights are too much for me these days," she said a few minutes after ten. "I think I'll call a cab and head home."

Mary Ann did the expected and offered to drive her, but Caroline shook her head. "Stay and enjoy yourself," she said. "I'll be fine."

"I'm out of here, too," said Stu, rising to his feet. "I'll drop you off."

Caroline started to protest but Stu was adamant. He lived in Princeton proper, and her store was only a stone's throw away. Besides, a wave of bone-numbing exhaustion was moving its way through her body, making it almost impossible for her to keep her eyes open. "Thanks, Stu," she said, stifling a yawn. "That would be wonderful."

Stu was an amiable sort, not quite as bombastic as the other red-suspendered fellows who were part of the old Drew University crowd. He chatted pleasantly enough as he took her back to the store, touching on football and the latest Broadway sensation. All Caroline had to do was nod and smile at the appropriate times.

"Here we are." He whipped into a parking spot in front of
Once Over Lightly
and shut off the engine. "Which car's yours?"

She pointed toward the red sports
car.

He whistled. "Feel like giving me a ride around the block?"

"Not tonight, Stu. Why don't I give you a rain check?"

He tilted his head to one side and studied her. "You know, I may not be a psychologist but I know an unhappy woman
when I see one. That new husband of yours treating you right?"

She bit her lip against a flood of emotion. "Nothing that a good night's sleep won't cure."

"I take it that's my cue to say goodnight."

"You always were perceptive." She leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. "Thanks for the ride."

He saluted. "Any time."

Stu waited until she was safely in her car and pointed toward home then with a beep-beep of his horn, they parted company at the corner of Nassau Street and Route 206. The roads were empty and so was the local Super Fresh where she stopped for a quart of milk and some whole wheat bread. She wasn't hungry but that really didn't make any difference. The baby needed food, even if she didn't care if she never ate again.

She had no business being surprised when she reached her apartment and didn't see Charlie's truck. There was no reason to think Charlie would be coming back to her apartment any time soon. Not after the way she'd treated him.

She stumbled through the foyer, wishing for the thousandth time that she'd invested in timers. Anything to avoid coming home to a dark and lonely place. Maybe she should get a dog, too. Someone who'd be happy to see her when she came home at night. Kids loved dogs. Caroline had spent hours in front of the television set watching
Lassie
, wishing she had a dog of her own.

"I'm thirty-one years old," she grumbled as she made her way toward the living room light switch. "I should have a dog of my own."

The male voice seemed to come from nowhere. "How about a St. Bernard?"

She screamed and punched at the switch. Light flooded the living room. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

Charlie was sprawled across her immaculate sofa, his big ugly running shoes perched against the arm. "Nice to see you, Mrs. Donohue," he drawled. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

iii

Caroline struggled to regain her composure. "I thought you were at the bar."

"Yeah," he said. "Evidently."

She didn't like the sound of his voice. "What do you mean 'evidently'?"

He got to his feet, looking impossibly large and male against the feminine backdrop of her living room. "I saw you with your friend," he said without preamble. "What the hell was going on?"

She was at a loss for a moment then she realized what he was talking about. "Not that I owe you any explanations, but Stu was kind enough to drop me back at the shop."

"'Stu was kind enough,'" he mimicked. "A real prince of a guy."

"There's no reason to get nasty," she said, heart racing. "I was out with a group of old friends and Stuart gave me a lift."

Are you jealous, Charlie? Could you possibly be acting like a jealous husband?
"How on earth did you see me with Stuart?"

"My truck's in the garage. I had the mechanic drop me off at your shop. I saw your car was still there and I got wor--I hung around awhile to wait. You and your pal pulled up just after I called for a cab."

"You were spying on me."

"That's nothing compared to what you were doing."

She glared at him but her pique had absolutely no effect on him.

"Where'd you go?"

"The Place." She moved toward the kitchen with her grocery bag.

"That dive on Route 1?" He was hard on her heels.

"It's not a dive." She flung open the refrigerator and put the bread inside. "The Place caters to an impressive clientele."

"Red suspenders," said Charlie with a snort of derision. "I should've known you'd find another guy with red suspenders."

"I hate red suspenders," she shot back. "And for your information I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there and get back home."

"Yeah?" He looked both suspicious and hopeful and her damnable heart twisted with emotion. "What were you doing there in the first place?"

She took a glass from the cupboard then poured herself some milk. "That, Mr. Donohue, is none of your business."

He grabbed her wrist, spilling milk on the countertop. "The hell it isn't."

She looked pointedly at his hand. "Let me go."

"First tell me what you were doing at The Place."

Somehow this didn't seem the right time to assert her independence. Quickly she told him about Mary Ann's visit to the shop and her impulsive decision to meet up with her old university crowd.

"I suppose you had yourself a swell time with all your frat brat pals."

"Frankly, no." She hesitated then decided to opt for the truth. "I was bored out of my mind."

"Probably all that talk about stock options and inheritances bored you stiff."

"That's right," she retorted. "I almost fell asleep with my face in my club soda."

His grip on her wrist changed subtly. "I'd pay a lot to see that, princess."

"I'll just bet you would."

"Why is it I get the feeling there's a hell of a lot I don't know about you?"

"Because you're a smart man, Donohue. You know a lost cause when you see one."

He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb, lazy, circular motions that made her pulse quicken. Damn the man. "Still, though, I bet I know a few things about you that you don't even realize."

"I wouldn't bet on that." Oh God, the touch of his hand was making it hard to think.

"I would."

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"When it comes to this, I am."

One instant they were standing separate and apart; the next instant she was in his arms, his mouth on hers, seeking, demanding, questioning.

"This doesn't prove anything, Charles," she managed. "This doesn't mean a thing."

"Shut up," said Charlie, claiming her mouth again and again until she was breathless with desire and leaning against him for support.

"We don't need this," she whispered as he swept her up into his arms. "The one thing we don't need is complications."

"This
is
complicated," said her husband, striding toward the bedroom at the rear of the apartment. "It's time we stopped pretending it isn't."

"Making love won't solve our problems."

"Pretending we don't want each other won't either."

"Sex isn't everything."

His laughter was deep and earthy. "Say no before we walk through that bedroom door and this won't happen again, but once we cross that threshold, all bets are off."

"You're a tough man, Donohue." She pressed a kiss to the base of his throat, his collarbone beneath his work
shirt. He smelled wonderful, like soap and fresh air.

He stopped in front of the bedroom door.

"It's up to you, Caroline." His face was inches from hers, the expression in his green eyes matched the heat gathering inside her chest.

"Oh, Donohue," she said, "did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"

The first time they had come together out of desire, pure and simple. This time desire ran high but there was much more to their union than sexual need. Neither one was willing to admit to that, however, at least not with words. But Caroline's heart resonated with unfamiliar emotions and Charlie felt as if he were reaching for a taste of paradise.

She stood in the center of her bedroom, trembling, as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. The rasp echoed in the throbbing silence, followed by the slither of silk as the garment dropped to the floor at her feet. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her lace-edged half slip and eased the garment over her hips and thighs until it too puddled about her ankles.

Gently his hands cupped the fullness of her breasts, weighing their softness in his palms. "Beautiful," he murmured, brushing his lips against that softness.

"I have cleavage at last," she said, trying desperately to retain the last remnants of sanity. "I've always wanted to be voluptuous."

His head dipped lower, his lips trailing fire across her midriff and coming to rest against her belly.

"Donohue," she whispered. "Please, don't..."

But he didn't listen. She didn't want him to listen. She wanted him to continue what he was doing, moving his hot and restless mouth with the silky moustache across her rounded belly, stroking her hips and thighs with knowing hands, murmuring words she couldn't quite hear but understood intimately.

She rested her hand atop his head, letting the strands of jet black hair slip through her fingers like raw silk. It felt so right to be in that room together, to feel her body against his, to know that before too much longer they would be tangled together on her bed, giving and receiving the same dark pleasures they had found on that night in June when it all began.

Of course, it hadn't begun in June. Not really. She sighed as he lowered her to the mattress, his warm and eager body covering hers with fierce gentleness, controlled abandon. This had been ordained from the first moment they met, from the first look they'd exchanged, the first words they'd spoken.

But, there were no words between them now. Words were unnecessary against the spectacular burst of fireworks that exploded as he found her with his hand. She shuddered with pleasure, shifting restlessly, urgently, on the soft bed while he took his sweet time with her pleasure.

#

She was hot to the touch, moist with desire. He wanted to bury himself in her again and again, seeking the source of all things wondrous and holy. There was nothing about his wife that wasn't beautiful. She was perfectly made, on a scale so delicately feminine that he almost hesitated to possess her as completely as he wanted to. And there was the baby to consider.