The Baby Consultant Page 18

  She was still now, as motionless as a statue, but at least she was listening. “I need you, baby. And you need me. I can’t live without you. It’s that simple.” He lifted his hands, hesitated and placed them on her shoulders, ignoring her flinch. “That’s why I asked you to marry me.” Gently he put a little pressure into his grip, turning her around, and she let him.

  He knew the beginnings of relief. She was listening; she was going to let him explain, and then everything would be right again.

  Then he caught sight of her face, and a deep, crippling fear paralyzed him.

  Her dark eyes harbored a deeper hurt than he’d ever imagined. Her lip trembled. “You didn’t ask me to marry you. You issued a command. I said yes because I loved you. Even knowing that all I was to you was a built-in baby-sitter/bed partner, I said yes.” A sob escaped her and she stuffed a fist against her mouth. For a long moment they stared at each other, regret and grief and rage thickening the air to a tense soup of emotion. And then she began to cry, soundlessly weeping as tears formed huge shiny puddles in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. She whirled again to stand with her back to him, and sobs began to punctuate her silent anguish.

  He was devastated. For the first time he began to understand what he’d done to her. How deeply he’d hurt her. He’d seen her cry only once before, and it had torn him apart. And that night—after the first time he’d met her family—she’d been upset with herself, not him. Lannette had cried frequently, copiously, and the length of time the tears had lasted was usually the same length of time it took her to steer him into doing whatever she wanted.

  Frannie’s tears weren’t directed at him. In fact, she tried desperately not to let him see that she was crying.

  “Frannie...baby...” He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, gathering her against his chest, feeling her rigid body refusing his comfort. His own voice shook as he whispered, “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I need you.”

  She shook her head violently and pulled away from him, no longer trying to hide or stern her tears. “No, Jack. You don’t need me. You want me. There’s a big difference. It’s called, ‘love.’” Despair drew her face into a mask of terrible sadness. “I needed you. I thought I loved you so much that it didn’t matter. But it does matter, Jack. I can’t live with the man I love, knowing I’m nothing more than the one who ‘fit the bill.’” She paused, then turned away again, clearly ending the confrontation. “All I ever wanted was love.”

  Panic gripped him, a bottomless pit of fright. “How could I be such a fool?” he said aloud. “I’m losing you, aren’t I? I do love you, Frannie. I—”

  “Don’t you dare tell me that now!” She flew at him so suddenly he barely got his hands up in time to prevent her from slugging him. “Don’t you dare pull a cheap stunt like that!”

  She was flailing wildly at him. In self-defense, he caught her fists within his much larger ones, pulling them behind her back and anchoring them both with one hand. Her body was flush against his, and immediately his own flesh began to respond the way it always did to her. When she abruptly stopped writhing against him, he knew she’d noticed.

  “If I were pulling a cheap stunt,” he said, “I’d have told you a long time ago that I loved you, wouldn’t I? To cement the relationship, I mean—make sure you were really on the hook. Why would I wait until Stu hit me over the head to get me to admit it? And if any woman would do, why did I eat humble pie for your damned, unforgiving, overprotective friends just to try to get you back?”

  He realized he was shouting and he deliberately took a deep breath and lowered his voice. “This is what you do to me.” He thrust his hips gently against her, seeing the clouds of arousal in her eyes even through the tears. “No other woman. Just you. Because this means nothing unless it’s done with love.”

  His grip loosened and he released her hands, stepping back and freeing her. He wanted to overwhelm her with his love, take her right here in the hallway and show her with his body how much she meant to him. But she had to want it, too. She had to believe him.

  “I love you,” he said, standing quietly with his hands at his sides. “And I want to marry you, not because I need a baby-sitter—or a sexual playmate—but because half of me was missing when you were. I need you to make me whole again.”

  She’d been staring at him during his speech; now she looked down, veiling the beautiful brown eyes that might gave him a clue about what she was thinking. When she raised her gaze to his again, his heart sank at the pain still haunting her eyes.

  “I thought you might be able to love me,” she said, “someday. I was prepared to wait, hoping that someday you could return it.” Her face began to lose its pinched, unhappy look and the devastation in her eyes lightened. “It’s a little overwhelming to find that someday has arrived.”

  “I know exactly when I realized that I felt something more for you than I ever had for anyone,” he said. He sensed she was weakening in her denial of him; he just hoped it was enough. “When we took Alexa to the hospital, and the doctor assumed we were married, I wished it were true. I looked at you and decided that you were going to be mine.” He paused, eyeing the space between them, then took a step toward her and held out his arms. “Would you please come over here and tell me you forgive me?”

  She came into his arms, her breath shuddering out in a painful-sounding sigh as she wound her arms around his neck. Her grasp was so tight it was almost uncomfortable, but he didn’t care. He pulled her against him equally tightly.

  “I thought I would never do this again,” she said.

  “I was terrified I would never get to do this again.” Slowly he closed the gap between their lips, settling his mouth on hers in a simple, tender caress meant to reassure. But when she melted against him, murmuring deep in her throat and opening her mouth for his tongue, he took everything she offered, holding her against him so that she couldn’t miss the way his body wanted this day to end.

  He lifted his head a fraction. “I love you,” he said. “Do you still love me?”

  “I have to,” she said simply. “Without you, life would mean nothing.”

  The answer pleased him; his whole body relaxed. He hadn’t realized how tense he was, waiting for her answer. “You’re still marrying me on Tuesday.”

  Her lips curved beneath his. “There you go again, giving me orders. Don’t you know how to phrase a question?”

  He bent and scooped her into his arms, holding her against his heart as he walked toward the stairs, whispering into her ear.

  Her laughter rang out, filling the house with love. “That wasn’t the question I had in mind!”

  Epilogue

  She got her church wedding after all.

  Frannie paused in the entrance of the white-painted brick church less than a month after Jack had declared his love for her. She wore the gown he liked so much, the gown that carried memories that still could make her blush. Just as she’d predicted, it took a legion of people to help with the long satin train. Behind her, four of her nieces and nephews stood clutching the slippery fabric in determined little hands.

  Ahead of her, Jillian was moving into the bridesmaids’ place near the altar. She looked stunning in the sky blue tea-length gown Frannie had designed for her. Her blond head was bent and she was talking softly to Alexa, whom she cradled in her arms while the lacy white ruffles of the baby’s gown spilled over her arm. Deirdre, halfway down the aisle, wore a matching style in palest pink, her long dark hair rippling around her as she slowly proceeded through the gathered crowd.

  Now it was D.J.’s turn. She heard the electric whir of his wheelchair as he started down the aisle, and a lump came into her throat as his small hand reached into the basket secured to the chair and with jerky motions, scattered rose petals along the white runner between the pews. She’d been so touched when Jack had suggested that D.J. act as a flower bearer.

  The music changed. As the notes of “Ode to Joy” swelled to a triumphant,
lilting melody, she turned her head and smiled at her brother. Donald smiled back, offering her his arm, and together they started down the aisle.

  As she took the first step, her gaze met Jack’s. He stood near the minister, his friend Stu and her youngest brother, Billy, at his side. All three wore severe black tuxes. Jack towered over the other two men, looking even larger than usual in the dark color and her smile grew tender.

  He smiled back. As she drew nearer, she could see the love in his eyes, the confident assurance that this was the day he’d waited for, the day he would make her his for the rest of their lives. He reached out a hand and drew her to his side as Donald relinquished her, and the marriage service began.

  It was like a dream. Prompted by the calm, solemn voice of the minister, Jack spoke his pledge to her and received her vows in return. She handed her bouquet of fragrant orange blossoms to Dee and saw that the smaller woman had tears streaming down her face. Jillian leaned forward and blotted the tears with the edge of a cloth diaper she had hidden in the folds of the baby’s gown.

  They exchanged the rings they had chosen together. After a few more moments, the ceremony was over, and she heard the minister’s voice. “You may kiss the bride.”

  Jack’s big fingers took hold of the edges of the sheer veil and lifted it carefully up and back out of the way. His eyes were a brilliant silver and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Gently, he slid his arms around her and pulled her to him, and she lifted her face for his kiss.

  “My beautiful bride,” he murmured when he lifted his head. “I love you, Frannie.”

  “I love you, too—Jack!” The end of the sentence was a gasp as he swung her into his arms. A ripple of laughter swept through their gathered families and friends as he held her high and turned to face everyone.

  “Put me down!” she whispered in a low, insistent tone.

  Chuckling, he shook his head, holding her high against his chest as he began to stride back up the aisle. “No way, Mrs. Ferris. Now that I’ve caught you for good, I’m going to carry you everywhere.”

  Warm amusement rose, and without thinking, she said, “In another seven months or so, I’m going to be so heavy you’ll need a wheelbarrow to lug me around.” Then her eyes grew big and she clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d just found out for sure yesterday and she’d planned to tell him in a few days, after the craziness that surrounded the wedding was over.

  Jack’s arms went rigid around her and he stopped dead in the middle of the church, pulling her even closer. His voice was strained. “Are you telling me—Frannie, are we going to have a baby?”

  She nodded, smiling, knowing that he would be as thrilled with her news as she had been. “My wedding gift to you.”

  He bowed his head and touched his forehead to hers for a long moment, and when he slowly raised it again, there were tears glittering in his eyes. “We’re going to have to celebrate an additional anniversary on our calendar. Because the day you walked into my office was the best moment of my life, the moment that led to all of these other miracles.”

  And as her husband began to move again, she relaxed, safe in his embrace. He was right Like it was yesterday, she remembered the first time their eyes had met.

  The true miracle was that their lives were now joined forever.

  Watch for Deirdre’s sensuous love story by

  Anne Marie Winston,

  DEDICATED TO DEIRDRE,

  coming February 1999 from Silhouette Desire.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-5793-1

  THE BABY CONSULTANT

  Copyright © 1999 by Anne Marie Rodgers

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S A

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other conntries.