Heart of the Night (40 page)

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. Seconds later, she gave a quick shake of her head. “You don't know me well enough.”

It didn't make sense any more to Jared than it did to her, still he felt it, and it was worth repeating. “I do love you.”

Her heart was thudding. “But I'm wrong for you. I have a career, like Elise. I can't give you what you want.”

“You would have given me a baby. That's part of what I want.”

She thought about the baby that wasn't, closed her eyes, and murmured, “I don't know why I've thought so much about it lately. I'm not that old. I could have babies for the next ten years.” While that was true, it didn't make her feel better. She burrowed more deeply into the cushions.

Jared lightly stroked the underside of her jaw. “Can I get you anything? Aspirin? Tea?”

She shook her head.

“It could happen next month, or the next,” he told her softly. “I don't have any intention of using birth control.”

“Maybe we should. Maybe there's a message in this. Maybe I'm not meant to be pregnant right now.”

“There's no message. But it's only been two weeks. Some couples work at it for years.” When she didn't respond to that, he put a hand on her stomach and moved it in a light, circular motion. “Can I hold you?”

“You are.”

“Hold you in my arms.”

She shrugged.

He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it hadn't been a no, and he needed to hold her. Slipping his arms under her as he came to his feet, he turned, sat down, and settled her so that she was resting against him with her knees comfortably bent.

“Okay?”

She nodded, but she felt weepy. It wasn't just her period. It was all the different things that had happened in the past two weeks—Megan, Jared, the trial, turning thirty-one. She usually looked at the bright side of things, but she was too drained to do that just then.

“Why don't you skip work tomorrow?” Jared asked. His mouth was pressed against her forehead, his voice a light rasp. “The rest would do you good.”

“I have too much catching up to do.”

“But you're not feeling well.”

“I'll be better by morning.”

He wanted to argue, but who was he to know about the intimate workings of her body? “Are you definitely going to Marco Island on Saturday?”

“If Susan can make the arrangements. I'll rest there.” She whispered a snort. “Good timing. You and I couldn't do much with me this way.”

“Shows how much you know,” Jared drawled, drawing her eyes to his. His voice was low, just sandy enough to underscore his thoughts. “I could pleasure you. There are ways other than intercourse. And you could pleasure me. You've already shown me how. But that's not the only reason I want to be with you. There's more to us than sex.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She nodded.

“I'd want you with me this weekend, whether we make love or not.”

She felt worse than ever. “I have to go with Susan and Megan.”

“I understand,” he said, trying hard to.

“If I could have chosen any other time, I would have, but Megan needs it now, and Susan does, too. She and Sam had a fight. I think she'd like to be gone right now.”

“It's okay,” he said, but he was jealous as hell. “There's lots I can do.”

“With my trial just over, it's a perfect weekend for me to go. We'll leave late tomorrow and be back late Sunday.”

“I'm used to being alone.”

“Don't
say
that,” she wailed. “I feel so badly.”

So did he. He didn't want Savannah going to Florida with Susan and Megan. He wanted her to himself. Holding her close, he spoke against the top of her head. “I'm not being fair. I know it's important for you to go. I'll miss you. That's all.”

“I'll miss you, too,” she whispered and buried her face against his chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a bell rang, but she was too wrapped up in Jared's warmth to pay it heed until he mentioned it himself.

“Are you expecting someone?”

Puzzled, she looked up and shook her head.

“That was your doorbell.” Sure enough, it rang again. He glanced at his watch. “It's ten-fifteen. Any idea who it could be?”

Again she shook her head, whereupon the bell rang a third time, then a fourth, fifth, and sixth in rapid succession.

“Someone's angry,” he decided. Shifting Savannah, he slipped out from under her. When she started to rise, he pressed her back down. “Let me.”

For a woman of wealth, Savannah was not pampered. She didn't usually sit still long enough for that. But she sat still now. Given the tender state of her insides, she appreciated not having to move.

Jared recognized Susan the instant he opened the door. Though he had only glimpsed her once before, she wasn't the kind of woman a man forgot. For one thing, her thick, auburn hair was too striking. For another, she was statuesque and in that, unusual. And while she wasn't holding a bottle of scotch this time, he could tell she had done so not long before. The scent was faint, but distinct.

The insistent ringing of the doorbell had aptly conveyed her annoyance. It was evident in her expression when he opened the door, although it almost comically vanished as soon as she saw him.

“Oh my.” She glanced at the townhouse to her left, then her right. “Am I at the wrong one?”

“No,” Jared said and stood back. “Come on in.”

But Susan didn't move. She stared at him with dawning awareness, her frown returned. “You're Savannah's messenger.” She leaned forward and called, “Savannah?” but her eyes never left Jared.

On the living room sofa, Savannah was immobilized by a momentary panic. She had known that sooner or later Susan would have had to find out about Jared, but she had counted on later. She didn't want that confrontation now. Under the best of circumstances, she couldn't hold a candle to Susan in appearance, and this was far from the best of circumstances.

But there was no avoiding the meeting. She simply had to decide how best to handle it. Her first impulse was to join Jared at the door, but that required too much effort. Instead she drew herself higher on the sofa and called, “Come on in, Suse.”

Tearing her gaze from Jared, Susan swept past him. She was frowning when she stopped before Savannah. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing much. Exhaustion. Cramps.”

“Cramps.” Susan sighed in dismay. “Cramps. You've done it again, haven't you? Here we are, all set to go off for a weekend of sun and surf, and you've got your period. This happens every time.”

Savannah was thinking that it shouldn't have happened this time, though not for the reason Susan thought. She glanced at Jared, who had followed Susan into the room and was standing to the side with a hand in his pocket. “Unfortunately, I had no say in the matter,” she told Susan. “Is everything okay? I didn't expect you.”

“Obviously,” Susan drawled. Her gaze bounced from her sister to Jared and back. “A messenger? What's he delivering this time?”

“A little consolation,” Savannah said on impulse.

“Consolation? Since when do you need consolation? You won your case. That must please you. Another victory for the legal eagle.”

Jared wasn't sure he liked her tone of voice. It gave him the same unsettling feeling his brother did. But she wasn't his brother, she was Savannah's sister. He trusted that Savannah knew best how to handle her.

“It was a victory for the people of this state,” Savannah said quietly. “I'm just glad it's over.”

“So who's he?” Susan asked, tossing her head toward Jared.

“He's a friend. Susan, Jared.”

Susan gave him a slow once-over. “Not bad for a friend.” She eyed his leather jacket. “I didn't think it was from K-mart.” Slipping out of her fur, she tossed it over the free end of the sofa and sank into a nearby chair. “Is he joining us?”

Savannah had fully expected Susan to make an instant play for Jared, but that wasn't happening. And Jared, while he studied Susan in a curious kind of way, looked far from enamored. That gave Savannah a bit of courage.

“The question,” she amended, “is whether you're joining us. What's up?”

“You know what's up,” Susan muttered, glowering. “Sam Craig is a bastard. Do you know what he had the gall to do? After I went to the trouble of taking pictures of his place, sending them by courier to Dennis Becker, spending hours on the phone with Dennis telling him what I had in mind, and arranging for him to fly in, Sam wouldn't even give us the time of day. If that's an example of the kind of gratitude your friends show, I'm not sure I want to meet this one.” She tossed her head in Jared's general direction.

Savannah sent Jared an indulgent glance before facing Susan again. “You were going to decorate Sam's place?”

“Yes, I was. That's
was.
Past tense. I have no intention of doing another thing for Sam Craig. I have no intention of
seeing
him again.” Abruptly, she sat forward. “He's a throwback, do you know that? He's a throwback to the Stone Age. So you think he's an eighties man? Think again. Old-fashioned as they come.”

“Sam?” Susan asked in some surprise.

“Yes, Sam. He makes all the decisions. No give and take. A regular dictatorship. He's the king of the castle, period. Have you ever heard anything so backward?” Before Savannah could answer, Susan turned on Jared. “Are you the dictator type, too, or have the times actually sunk into that pea-brain of yours? Pea-brains,” she repeated, turning back to Savannah. “That's what men have, and if we don't watch out, we'll be in trouble. Look what happened to the dinosaurs. Their tiny pea-brains couldn't cope with change, so they died off. If we sit back and let men rule the world, that may well be our fate.” With a certain finality, she sank back in her chair.

There was total silence. Then Savannah took a breath and said, “Well. That's an interesting theory.”

“There's merit to it. Men are far inferior to women. Just look at what they're doing to the world. People are dying in Central America and Northern Ireland and the Middle East, and it's not women who are doing the killing.” She threw a hand up in disgust. “Why I waste my time on them is beyond me. They're not worth it. Not for a minute.”

“I don't know,” Savannah mused. “Seems to me there are a few things they can give us that we can't give ourselves.”

Susan was surprised, not by the suggestion itself, but by Savannah's making it. Savannah wasn't a sexual being. She was an intellectual one. Traditionally, she'd have been the one to talk about the ills of the world, with Susan tossing in the sexual innuendo. It seemed that the tables were momentarily turned.

Susan's excuse was her anger at Sam. She wondered what Savannah's was. Studying her curiously, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

Then it had to be Jared. More curious now, Susan turned to him. “How do you know Savannah?”

“We met through her work,” he answered. He had both hands in the back pockets of his jeans and was standing, almost lazily, with his weight on one hip.

“Are you a lawyer, too?” she asked, and went on before he could answer, “You don't look like the men Savannah usually brings home.”

“I don't bring scads of men home,” Savannah protested.

Susan whispered, “Don't tell him that. Keep him guessing.” She faced Jared. “Lawyer?”

“Nope.”

“Politician?” she asked, but she doubted that. He looked just a little too comfortable in his jeans and sweater to be the type to spend hours on end in a suit.

“Nope.”

There was something familiar about him, but she couldn't decide what it was. An awful thought struck. “Oh God, you're not another cop, are you?” She rose from her seat. “Because, if you are,” she ranted, stalking to the side of the room, “you can tell Sam Craig everything I said.” She whirled around. “You guys spend your days and nights playing cops and robbers, and you go so far undercover that people rarely see the real you. But I saw the real Sam, and he's no knight in shining armor. He's a louse.” She turned suddenly cautious eyes on Savannah. “Have you seen him?”

Savannah was beginning to think Susan was truly smitten. “Not since last week. When did you two fight?”

“Yesterday.”

“He hasn't called since then?”

“Are you kidding?” Susan drawled sarcastically. “Macho man isn't about to stoop to apologizing. I'm sure that as far as he's concerned, he's totally in the right.”

“And as far as you're concerned,
you're
totally in the right.”

“Of course.”

“I guess that's that, then,” Savannah said.

“Exactly.” Chin held high, Susan returned to her chair. She sat down, crossed her legs with an elegant flourish, and laced her fingers together on her lap. She looked as though she planned to sit for a while.

Had Susan been anyone but Savannah's sister, Jared would have picked up the silver-fox fur and held it in a blunt invitation for her to leave. He couldn't quite believe that she was sitting there so complacently, totally unaware of interrupting anything. Then he remembered some of the things Savannah had said, and it occurred to him that, quite possibly, Susan didn't realize there was anything to interrupt.

He intended to correct that.

Crossing to the sofa, he hunkered down as he had before, framed Savannah's body with his arms and said in a near whisper, “Want that aspirin now?”

She shook her head, smiled, and whispered back, “I'm okay.”

“Maybe you should go to bed.”

“In a little while. You have to go to work soon, don't you?”

He nodded. “I want to know you're okay before I leave.”