One Night With You (25 page)

There was a long silence as she stared down at her pink-tipped toes, where they peeked out from under the edge of the enveloping quilt. "Is that what you came to say?" she said finally. "That you're sorry?"

"Among other things."

"What other things?"

"Desiree, we've got to talk. I've been driving around the city for hours. Thinking. Going over everything over and over again. We've got to talk this out. Reasonably. Calmly—"

"Talk what out?" she said, deliberately misunderstanding him.

"You. Me. Stephanie."

"No." She jumped to her feet, leaving the chair rocking wildly behind her. The quilt fell unheeded to the floor. "No. I've said all I'm going to say about that. Stephanie is your daughter. I'm not going to beg you to believe me. I'm not going—"

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, shaking her into silence. She stared up at him, her eyes wide and tear-filled again.

I won't cry
, she told herself fiercely, closing her eyes against him.
I won't cry!

"Desiree, look at me."

She opened her eyes slowly, willing the tears not to fall. He was staring down into her face, devouring her, feature by feature, with agonizing thoroughness. She could see the questions in his eyes again. See him doubting her.

"Why didn't you meet me at the fountain?" he said, as if that question was more important to him than anything else.

"The fountain...?"

"I waited for you in Ghirardelli Square, Desiree. And I came back the next day in case we'd gotten our wires crossed. But you never showed up."

"You waited?"

"Like a fool, for hours. I kept telling myself that you'd be there. That you were special.
We
were special. That it hadn't been just another one-night stand." He shook her again. "Why didn't you come?"

"I wanted to," she replied softly, gazing up into his eyes as if her life depended on it, willing him to believe her. Her life
did
depend on it. "I wanted to. I even got dressed, but..."

"But what?" he prodded her, his voice raw.

"I was more than six months' pregnant and as big as a house," she blurted out. "I had toxemia by then and I'd swelled up like a balloon. I didn't know what I could say to you. How you'd react. I didn't know if you'd even be there." She paused, gulping for air, and the tears spilled over, coursing unheeded down her cheeks. "I was fat and ugly and I thought you'd hate me for getting pregnant."

His arms went around her shoulders, pulling her close, one big hand pressing her wet face into his chest. "Women!" he said softly, incredulously. She could feel the tension drain out of him as easily as if someone had pulled a plug, and she felt his chest heave under her cheek as if he was stifling a laugh—or a sob.

"I could never hate you, Desiree. Don't you know that?" he said into her hair. "I can only love you."

She stood stock-still against him for a minute, doubting what she had heard. She wanted, so very badly, to believe those words that she feared her ears were playing tricks on her. Hearing what they wanted to hear. But he was still holding her, she realized, so it must be true. Somehow. His hand at her head was tenderly stroking her hair. His other hand was biting, almost painfully, into the soft flesh of her hip, as if he feared she would try to move away from him. She felt his lips against her ear.

"You could never be ugly to me, no matter how pregnant you got."

He
was
laughing now, she was sure of it. She didn't know why—whether it was relief or real amusement, or both. But that was okay. As long as he held her like this he could laugh till doomsday and she wouldn't object.

"I'd have loved to see you pregnant," he said then, the laughter suddenly gone out of his voice. There was a pause. "With my daughter," he finished softly.

Desi twisted her head to look up at him. His daughter, he'd said. "Oh, Jake, are you sure? You believe me?"

"I believe you." He was smiling down at her. A look of tenderness was on his face, and his beautiful brown eyes were unclouded by uncertainty or doubt, though unshed tears shimmered in their depths. "Deep down I've always wanted to believe you. From the minute you told me, I wanted to believe that Stephanie was mine because
not
believing was tearing the heart out of me. And because I knew, deep down inside of me, that you weren't the sort of woman to lie about a thing like that. I
knew
it but..." He shook his head and the next words came out haltingly, as if he hated to say them, "But there were those two other times. Those women who said that their babies were mine, and I guess I went sort of crazy for a little while, remembering."

"Oh, Jake." Her arms went up around his neck, pulling his head down to hers so that she could plant tiny kisses all over his face. "Oh, Jake, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you. As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have," he agreed. "It would have saved us both a lot of needless grief, and a lot of wasted months when we could have been together."

"I wanted to tell you. I did. But I was scared."

"Of me?" His hands captured her face, holding her still.

"No, not exactly, but of... Oh, I don't know how to say it. It was just that I had loved you for so long. Ever since
December Fire
, I think, and—"

"Since
December Fire
? But you couldn't have been more than a teenager then. You didn't even know me."

"Yes, I did. In a way. I worked on
December Fire
as a gofer. Zek got it for me as a summer job. And I guess I just fell in love with you then. I know it sounds stupid, but—"

"I don't remember you at all,'' he said incredulously, shaking his head.

"There's no reason you should. We never even spoke to each other," she admitted. "I told myself that it was just a crush. That I'd get over it, but I never did and then suddenly, there you were on the plane and... later, when you'd gone, I was afraid that it was just a one-night stand for you even though it meant so much to me. I
knew
you'd think I was just some dumb groupie."

He winced. "Can't you ever forgive me for that?"

"There's nothing to forgive," she insisted. "What else could you have thought? I picked you up on that plane. I went to your hotel and, well, you know." She looked down, embarrassed, as the fiery color stained her cheeks. "There was nothing else you
could
think."

"I never, not for one minute, thought that," he denied. "Not that weekend, anyway. That weekend all I could think of was how good it was. How
right
it felt to hold you and love you. And for six long months, in the wilds of Alaska, it was the thought of you that kept me from freezing to death. All I could think about was getting that movie over with and getting back to you." He smiled down into her wide shimmering eyes, his own brimming with love and tenderness. "You were too shy to be a groupie. Too uncertain about what you were doing. I couldn't even get you to tell me your name!" he teased.

"But later?" she prompted, remembering what he had said to her in Dorothea's second-best guest room.

"Later what?" he said absently, watching the delicate color come and go in her cheeks.

"That first day on the set and—" she shrugged "—you know. Later."

"You surprised me," he answered quietly. His lips touched her cheek, feeling the warmth of the blush that seemed to so intrigue him. "By that time I had convinced myself that I would never see you again. That you didn't mean anything to me. And then, there you were. With Eldin, I thought. Cool as a cucumber and looking just as sweet and beautiful as I remembered." His hands made lazy circles against her back as he talked and Desi leaned into him, only half listening to his words. "I was angry and hurt," he went on, his lips against her ear, "and so jealous I couldn't see straight. I just said the first thing that came into my head."

Desi arched away from him a little to look up into his face. "Were you really jealous?" she asked him, a delighted little half smile curving her lips.

"Damn right I was," he said and then added, "You like that idea, don't you?"

Desi nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "Only because I was so jealous, too. It's nice to know I wasn't alone in my misery."

"Jealous of whom?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Of Audrey," she admitted.

"Audrey?"

"Yes, Audrey. She's so beautiful and sophisticated. More your type than I am, and every time you kissed her on the set I just—" Desi blushed, lowering her eyes "—just wanted to tear her hair out."

"But that's just part of my job—"

"That's what I told myself but—"

"Hell, I don't even like her much." He slanted a glance down at Desi's face. "You'd have been more on the mark to be jealous of Dorothea."

Desi giggled. "Oh, she'd love to hear that. It would make her day. I'll have to..." Her voice trailed off as she caught the look in his eyes. Her eyes closed of their own accord, her head fell back, waiting.

He kissed her then. Sweetly, at first, teasing her lips with his tongue even after they had opened to him.

"Oh, Jake," she breathed, straining upward to bring her mouth closer to his. "Jake, I love you. I'll never hide anything from you again. Never. No matter what it is. I—"

"Be quiet, woman," he growled, molding his mouth more firmly over hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, hungrily, demandingly, and she felt his hand move up her body to close possessively over her breast, kneading the soft flesh gently through her shirt. Desi melted against him helplessly, her body gone pliant in his arms.

He lifted his mouth from hers for a brief instant. "You will marry me, won't you?" he whispered against her lips. "Give Stephanie a father?"

Marry him! Desi felt joy surge through her and, then, his last words echoed through her head.
Give Stephanie a father
, he had said. Was that what this was all about? He wanted to marry her because of Stephanie?

"Desiree?" He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh, Jake. I—" her voice trembled piteously "—I don't know."

"You don't know. What do you mean, you don't know?"

She looked up into his face, a stubborn look in her blue eyes, despite the shimmer of tears. "I won't marry you just to give Stephanie a legal father. It wouldn't be good for her, or me. Or you, either. You'd just end up hating us both and—"

Jake's left hand came up to cover her mouth. "Be quiet," he ordered.

"But I—"

"Quiet, I said. Now, I'm only going to explain this once, so you'd better listen." He took his hand away when she nodded her head. It slid around her back and he pulled her to him. Hard. His beautiful brown eyes bore steadily into hers.

"I love you, Desiree," he said softly, slowly. "If I didn't love you I wouldn't have asked you to marry me. I would be willing to provide for Stephanie financially, but I wouldn't tie myself to a woman I didn't love. Not even for my daughter. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Jake," Desi murmured obediently.

"Good. Now—will you marry me?"

"Yes, Jake." She sighed rapturously. "Oh, yes."

His mouth took hers again, devouring all the sweetness she so eagerly offered. They began to edge blindly toward the sofa, stumbling into the coffee table in their feverish haste. Jake stopped what he was doing with his hands and mouth to lift her into his arms.

"The bedroom?" he said, his voice low and husky with passion.

"That way," she whispered, pointing toward the hall. "Second door on the left."

He stopped by the bed, letting her body slide slowly down the hard length of his until her bare feet touched the floor. Without a word being spoken, she began to unbutton her shirt—one slow button at a time. The shirt dropped to the floor and she reached for the snap of her jeans, sliding them down her legs to the floor and kicking them aside.

She held his eyes all the while, unwrapping herself like a gift until she stood there covered only by a wisp of lilac silk across her hips and the flaming copper hair that curled to her waist.

Jake reached out with both hands and lifted her hair, pushing it back behind her shoulders. His fingers lingered on the creamy skin of her neck, then trailed lightly across her fragile collarbone and down to her breasts to cup their enticing fullness in his palms.

"It always amazes me," he said, a note of wonder in his deep voice, "how very female you are under your boy's clothes."

His hands left her breasts then, following the curves of her waist and hips. His fingers slid under the lilac silk and continued their slow tantalizing trek downward, caressing her slender thighs and calves and delicate, fine-boned ankles, and he knelt to push her panties down her legs. Obligingly Desi stepped out of her panties when he reached her feet, one hand reaching out to his shoulder to steady herself as she did so.

Jake leaned back on his heels. "You're absolutely perfect," he murmured. His hot dark eyes surveyed her again from the top of her flaming head to her bright-pink toenails. "Imagine hiding all this magnificence under those boy's clothes."

"I have one fault, remember?" she said teasingly, but her voice was shaking and her body had begun to tremble.

"Ah, yes. The beauty mark."

"Mole."

"Beauty mark," he insisted, teasing her. He leaned forward suddenly, catching her off guard. His arms went around her waist, pulling her to him, and his mouth moved, moist and hot, against the little reddish mole on her left hip.

"Jake," she gasped. Her hands clutched his shoulders to keep from falling as his mouth wandered tantalizingly from her hip to her navel and beyond, making her weak-kneed with rapturous delight.

From the next room the baby began to cry softly. They both stilled, listening, hoping she would settle down again, but the whimper rose to a steady wail. Desi began looking around for her robe. Jake rocked back on his heels, his hands on Desi's hips, and levered himself to his feet. "You stay here," he said in a voice not quite steady. "I'll go to her."