Книга - Daddy On The Doorstep

Daddy On The Doorstep
Judy Christenberry


He was rich, he was handsome…and Nicholas Avery was going to be a daddy! When Andrea Avery realized that her whirlwind marriage to the business tycoon had resulted in a bundle of joy, her protective instincts told her to keep the child a secret. After all, the last thing Nick wanted was a family….Only, suddenly stranded during a fierce storm with her soon-to-be ex, she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her not-so-little secret. But the long days–and nights–spent with each other brought back the deep, passionate emotions that still coursed between them. Now that fate had intervened, was this her last chance to convince Nick that he was the perfect husband and–surprise!–daddy?







He needed to hear her secret.

He wasn’t in the best of moods, but she had to tell him. She had to tell him now while there was still time….

“I have something to tell you, Nick.” She stood up even though her knees were shaking as much as her voice.

“You’re trembling like a leaf,” Nick said softly, then gently settled her on the sofa. He squatted down beside her, bringing his blue eyes level with hers.

This revelation was going to be difficult. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. She opened her mouth to reveal the one thing her husband didn’t want to hear.

“Nick, I’m pregnant….”


Dear Reader,

Spring cleaning wearing you out? Perk up with a heart-thumping romance from Silhouette Romance. This month, your favorite authors return to the line, and a new one makes her debut!

Take a much-deserved break with bestselling author Judy Christenberry’s secret-baby story, Daddy on the Doorstep (#1654). Then plunge into Elizabeth August’s latest, The Rancher’s Hand-Picked Bride (#1656), about a celibate heroine forced to find her rugged neighbor a bride!

You won’t want to miss the first in Raye Morgan’s CATCHING THE CROWN miniseries about three royal siblings raised in America who must return to their kingdom and marry. In Jack and the Princess (#1655), Princess Karina falls for her bodyguard, but what will it take for this gruff commoner to win a place in the royal family? And in Diane Pershing’s The Wish (#1657), the next SOULMATES installment, a pair of magic eyeglasses gives Gerri Conklin the chance to do over the most disastrous week of her life…and find the man of her dreams!

And be sure to keep your eye on these two Romance authors. Roxann Delaney delivers her third fabulous Silhouette Romance novel, A Whole New Man (#1658), about a live-for-the-moment hero transformed into a family man, but will it last? And Cheryl Kushner makes her debut with He’s Still the One (#1659), a fresh, funny, heartwarming tale about a TV show host who returns to her hometown and the man she never stopped loving.

Happy reading!






Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor




Daddy on the Doorstep

Judy Christenberry





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Books by Judy Christenberry

Silhouette Romance

The Nine-Month Bride #1324

* (#litres_trial_promo)Marry Me, Kate #1344

* (#litres_trial_promo)Baby in Her Arms #1350

* (#litres_trial_promo)A Ring for Cinderella #1356

† (#litres_trial_promo)Never Let You Go #1453

† (#litres_trial_promo)The Borrowed Groom #1457

† (#litres_trial_promo)Cherish the Boss #1463

† (#litres_trial_promo)Snowbound Sweetheart #1476

Newborn Daddy #1511

When the Lights Went Out… #1547

** (#litres_trial_promo)Least Likely To Wed #1570

Daddy on the Doorstep #1654

Silhouette Books

The Coltons

The Doctor Delivers


JUDY CHRISTENBERRY

has been writing romances for over fifteen years because she loves happy endings as much as her readers do. She’s also a bestselling author for Harlequin American Romance, but she has a long love of traditional romances and is delighted to tell a story that brings those elements to the reader. A former high school French teacher, Judy devotes her time to writing. She hopes readers have as much fun reading her stories as she does writing them. She spends her spare time reading, watching her favorite sports teams and keeping track of her two adult daughters.










Contents


Chapter One (#u094a0cf6-94cf-5343-b858-2c306878cab5)

Chapter Two (#u8a543d4c-cf9f-5bf9-8170-ce3b70e86061)

Chapter Three (#u49430464-6bd9-5deb-bc1f-494a9ee802ce)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Andrea Bainbridge peered through the sheets of rain deluging her windshield and prayed she’d make it to Aunt Bess’s house before her car was swept off the road. She could barely see the pavement. Only the center white line kept her on track.

Afraid to go above a snail’s pace, Andrea thought she’d never reach the long drive that led to Aunt Bess’s farmhouse. When she finally saw the outline of the familiar mailbox through the pouring rain, she turned her car into the drive with relief and then panicked as the wheels skidded beneath her.

Mud wasn’t the right description for what was under her car now. Maybe quicksand would be better. Or shifting sands. Or—

Stop it, Andy! You’re getting hysterical!

With good reason, she argued with herself. Aunt Bess had called her three hours ago, complaining of chest pains. Andrea hadn’t been able to convince the stubborn old lady to go to the hospital without her. Bess had assured her she could wait until Andrea arrived.

Normally she could make the drive in a little less than two hours. But these conditions weren’t normal. It had been raining day and night for almost a month. Andrea knew how Noah had felt. All the rivers and streams had flooded days ago. There was only one road to Bess’s farm which was still above water.

And she wasn’t sure how much longer it would be open. She’d been petrified when she’d crossed that one-lane wooden bridge.

The car slid out of control and she fought the steering wheel. When she finally came to a halt, she was almost sideways in the small lane.

“Hold on, Bess. I’m coming,” she muttered, more for herself than Bess. But the old lady was the one person in this world Andrea loved without reservation. She’d do anything for Aunt Bess.

Carefully backing up, she braked and then put the car in Drive. The tires spun and she swallowed her fear. Easing off the gas pedal, she allowed the forward motion of the gear to move the car. Once the tires had gripped whatever solid ground there was, she pressed slightly on the pedal and breathed a sigh of relief as the car moved forward.

When the dim form of the old farmhouse became visible, Andrea killed the motor and leaped from the car. She wasn’t worried about the rain or the mud, only about Bess. She had to get her to a hospital.

“Bess? Bess?” she called as she swung open the front door.

Silence greeted her. Fearing what she might find, Andrea raced to the kitchen, the true center of Aunt Bess’s home, but it was empty.

From there, she ran to the bedroom. More silence.

“Bess? Where are you?” Panic rising, she raced back through to the living room and the front door. That’s when she saw the message taped to the panel of glass.

Andy,

I persuaded Bess to let me take her to the hospital before you got here. I didn’t think she should wait. Hope I did the right thing.

Roy Evans

Andrea slumped against the door, relieved beyond words that Bess was in good hands. Roy Evans was a nearby neighbor who checked on Bess almost every day. Then, concern about Roy’s statement about not waiting filled Andrea and she ran back to the kitchen and the phone on the wall.

Bess kept her telephone directory on a shelf below the phone and Andrea thumbed through it impatiently, searching for the number to the small hospital in the closest town. As she was dialing the number, concentrating on Bess’s safety with all her heart, she vaguely heard more noise, though it was hard to detect a difference over the roar of the storm.

“Hubbard Hospital,” a clipped voice answered and then spoke to someone else before Andrea could ask about Bess. “No, sir, you can’t go back there. You’re getting in the doctor’s way!”

“Please,” Andrea interrupted, “I need to find out about—”

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone here?”

Andrea stared at the phone receiver briefly before she realized this new voice wasn’t coming over the wire. It was coming from the front door.

And she recogized the voice. It belonged to her soon-to-be ex-husband, Nicholas Avery.

She hung up the phone and hurried to the front of the house, unable to believe her ears. Nick, the last she’d heard, had been missing after he’d gone to Africa on a business trip.

“Aunt Bess?” he called.

“Nick?” she questioned even as her eyes confirmed her earlier guess. “What are you doing here?”

Okay, she hadn’t sounded welcoming, but what did he expect? There was no need for him to frown at her like that.

“I think that’s my line, isn’t it, Andy? After all, Bess is my aunt.”

“But you were missing—”

“And now I’m found. Where’s Aunt Bess?” he snapped.

“At…at the hospital, I think.” His question had made her remember the important person in their little drama. “She left a note. Her neighbor took her to the hospital.”

“She’s hurt?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

“She called me earlier. Told me she was having chest pains and wouldn’t go to the doctor until I came.”

“A heart attack?” Nick asked with even more urgency. She’d never seen her husband lose his cool. Ex-husband, she corrected herself. Or soon to be. But he seemed close to the edge now. That was one thing they’d always had in common. They both loved Bess.

“I was calling the hospital when I heard you. I’ll call again.” This time she asked her question as soon as the operator answered.

“I’ll ring her room, but make your call brief. We’ve got a lot of emergencies and we need to keep the lines open.”

“Aunt Bess,” Andrea said in relief when a quavery voice answered.

“Is that you, Andy? Thank God. I was so worried. Where are you?”

Andrea didn’t get a chance to answer. Nick took the phone from her hand.

“Aunt Bess? It’s Nick. I’m home. Are you okay?”

Bess was his aunt, his mother’s sister, so she guessed Nick technically had the right to be the one to talk to her. And she knew Bess would be relieved. She’d called Andrea almost a week ago to tell her Nick had flown to Africa on business and then disappeared. The State Department had been unable to offer any information about his safety.

She’d talked to Bess each evening, the two of them sharing their fears. That’s why Nick’s appearance had been even more of a surprise than normal.

“Is she all right?” Andrea asked impatiently, watching his face.

Ignoring her question, he continued to talk to his aunt. “Yes, I will. Take care of yourself.”

He replaced the receiver without offering it to Andrea.

“I wanted to talk to her!” she exclaimed, frustration rising.

“The operator cut in and asked us to hang up. Aunt Bess is okay. The doctor thinks it was indigestion.”

“Indigestion?” she questioned faintly. Indigestion. She’d worried herself sick, driven through a major storm, and unexpectedly had to face Nick. All for indigestion.

And she’d do the same thing again. She wouldn’t take any chances with Bess’s health. “I’m glad,” she whispered.

Nick made no response, only stared at her. Chilled by the coldness in his eyes, she stepped around him and headed for the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“To the hospital.” She didn’t expect him to ask her to stay. He probably didn’t want to talk to her any more than she wanted to talk to him. However, he surprised her by catching her arm.

“No, you’re not.”

“What are you talking about?” she protested. “Of course I am. Let me go!”

“Andy! Listen to me. The bridge is out.”

“Nice try. I just crossed over that bridge.” And she dreaded the thought of doing so again.

“I flew in on the police helicoptor. We watched it wash away.”

The sincerity in his voice almost convinced her. But she couldn’t face the prospect of staying here alone with him. “I don’t believe you,” she insisted, and turned back toward the door.

He wouldn’t let her go. “Andy. Use your head for once. You can’t go!”

She wrenched her coat from his hold. “Use my head for once?” she repeated, glaring at him. Then she snapped her mouth shut and ran to the front door.

He called her name above the storm and she was sure he pursued her. Nick never gave in or admitted he’d been bested. But this time she would do things her way. Tumbling down the steps into the rain, she had to slow down or she’d lose her footing. Too bad she left the car so far from the porch. But she’d been in as big a hurry when she’d arrived, as she was now.

He caught her just as she rounded the front of the car. She turned to scream at him over the thunder and rain. Before she could say anything, however, he yanked her toward him and they both fell into the mud. Even as she raised up to ask him if he was crazy, a louder noise stunned her.

She looked up at a roof of sodden greenness. And a deep crease in the roof of her car. A nearby tree, its roots exposed by the washing away of the soil the past month, had been blown across her car.

Another foot and that crease would have been in her head. She’d have been dead. If Nick hadn’t stopped her, that tree would have fallen on her.

Stunned by that cataclysmic thought, Andrea turned to stare at him. He was rising to his feet, without letting go of her, his clothing covered in mud, rain streaming down him. For the first time, she realized she was in much the same condition.

“Andy, are you hurt?” he gently demanded as he slid his hands beneath her arms to lift her.

“No—no, I don’t think so.” Trembling seized her, but whether it was from the cold or the shock, she didn’t know.

“Come on, we’ve got to get inside and get warm and dry. Can you walk?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. As efficient as always, he led her to the porch. “Take off your clothes.”

Had he lost his mind? She stared at him, wondering if she was having a nightmare.

“Andy,” he explained, his voice laden with exasperation, “you’re wet and muddy. There’s no point in dragging these clothes through the house. Take them off and go get in the shower.”

The thought of a hot shower was heavenly; stripping in front of Nick was not. Even if what he said made sense, she wasn’t prepared to make herself so vulnerable to him. “Turn around.”

“Andy, you’re being ridiculous!” he exploded.

She raised her chin and stared at him, but her rebellion was undermined by the shivering that seized her.

“Damn, you’re a stubborn woman!”

Before she could decide her next step, he abruptly spun around, turning his back to her.

It took her a second to realize he was complying with her request. Then she hurriedly started removing the wet, muddy clothes. As she reached her underwear, her shivering became almost uncontrollable.

“Haven’t you finished yet?” Nick demanded.

“Yes. I’m going in now.”

“Don’t use all the hot water,” he shouted after her.

She raced to the only bathroom, next to Bess’s bedroom, and slammed the door behind her. Quickly removing her underwear, she stepped beneath the hot spray of the shower. It took several minutes for her skin to respond, but gradually the chill disappeared.

A loud banging on the door almost caused her to lose her footing. “Andy? Here’s your bag. And hurry. I’m half frozen.” The bathroom door opened and closed.

She turned off the water and pulled back the curtain. Her suitcase sat on the bathroom mat. Quickly she dried off and dug into the bag. In only minutes she opened the bathroom door to discover Nick leaning against the bedroom wall, his bareness minimally covered by a bath towel. She couldn’t hold back a gasp as her gaze encountered his broad chest.

Her mouth dry, she moved away from the bathroom door and gestured for him to enter. Words were beyond her.

“Thanks. By the way, I didn’t bring any clothes with me. Unless you want me to wear a towel until we can get out of here, see what you can find for me to put on.” He ignored her gaping mouth and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Andrea gulped. Did she want him to wear a bath towel until they were rescued? The man was insane. As she would be if she were constantly exposed to that much of Nick’s well-muscled, tempting skin.

The sound of the shower awoke her from her stupor, and she headed for the basement door. The last time she’d spent a weekend with Bess, she’d been sorting old clothes. If she hadn’t yet given them to charity, surely there would be something for Nick to wear. There had to be.

She returned to the bedroom just as the shower shut off.

“Nick?” she called through the closed door.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve found a few things from the basement. I’ll toss them in.” She hurriedly did what she’d said and pulled the door closed again, as if afraid the steam might escape. As she did so, she heard Nick shove back the shower curtain.

Visions of him stepping from the shower, his dark hair curling from the steam, his body glistening with droplets of water, made her stomach turn over.

She wasn’t going to think about it. Her marriage to Nick was over. Those days were behind her. And she was glad. She swallowed the pain she’d been trying to ignore for the past month. Right, she was glad.

Anxious to occupy her mind with something other than Nick, she hurried to the kitchen and put on a kettle of water. She and Bess loved to share their secrets over a cup of hot tea. She didn’t want to share any secrets with Nick, but at least making tea gave her something to do.

“Do you think Gentleman’s Quarterly will want photos?” Nick asked, his voice husky.

Andrea whirled around, one hand going to her throat. He’d sounded just like that when they’d made love, exhorting her to greater heights. Her memories, those forbidden memories, were driven from her head when she got a good look at the tall, virile man striking a ridiculous pose in the doorway.

Though lean and fit, Nick was a big man. At six foot three, he towered over her. He’d also towered over his uncle, now long dead, because the overalls he was wearing ended a good four inches above his feet, enclosed in striped socks. On the other hand, his uncle must have required more room at his waist because the denim material flapped around Nick’s middle.

Underneath the straps of the overalls he wore a gray sweatshirt that stopped at his waist and fit his broad chest like a second skin. The sleeves ended above his wrists.

In spite of the trauma of the past few hours, Andrea burst out laughing. “Très chic!”

She was reminded of the danger Nick represented when his sexy grin appeared, and he took a step toward her. She quickly backed away.

“Where are you going?”

“Um, I’m fixing some tea. Do you want some?” Turning her back to him, she opened the box of tea bags just as the kettle began to sing.

“Yeah.”

In that one word he let her know that he was no happier about their situation than she was. To avoid looking at him, she busied herself with the mugs and spoons, the cream and sugar, moving it all to the table, then finding a saucer for the oatmeal-raisin cookies Bess always had on hand.

By the time she brought the kettle to the table to pour boiling water into the mugs, Nick had sat down and was waiting. Though it was a cowardly thought, she wished she could come up with a reason to take her tea to another room. But he’d only follow her.

Or would he? He certainly hadn’t followed her when she’d left their home, their marriage. He’d apparently accepted her exit with equanimity. And that was what she wanted, she quickly reminded herself. Exactly what she wanted.

“Thanks.”

She nodded in return, agreeable to talking in monosyllables. At least that limited their topics of discussion.

“Has it been raining the whole time I was gone?”

He’d left for Africa three weeks ago. The rain had begun almost a week later, but no one had expected it to last so long.

“Just about.”

“Things looked pretty bad from the air. Has Aunt Bess had any trouble? She could have contacted my office. My staff was instructed to help with anything she needed.”

Andrea sipped her tea and then nibbled on a cookie, studiously counting the raisins as if she were a quality control inspector.

“You’ve stayed in touch?” he asked.

She stared at him before returning to her contemplation of the cookie. Was he upset that she hadn’t turned her back on Aunt Bess? Well, tough.

“Yes.”

He heaved a sigh that would’ve launched a kite. “Andy, could you give me more than one-word sentences?”

Her gaze returned to his and she raised her chin in defiance. Before he could say anything else, however, she gained control of her temper. She would not act like a child. “I beg your pardon. So much has happened, I’m afraid I’m not myself. Yes, of course, I stayed in touch with Aunt Bess. We’re friends.”

“You also don’t have to treat me like a stranger you’ve just met. We were married, damn it. Still are, for that matter.” Though he kept his voice even, his blue eyes were chilly.

She addressed the only thing of importance in his remarks. “I’ve been intending to apply for a divorce, but—but it’s expensive.” That was the truth, but it wasn’t the only reason. Otherwise she would have taken out a loan. “If you’re in a hurry—”

“No.”

Risking a brief glance at him through her lashes, she then picked up her spoon and needlessly stirred her tea. Was he angry that she hadn’t started proceedings? What was wrong with him? He could divorce her, if he was in a hurry.

Her eyes widened at the thought, and she looked at him again. “Have you applied for a divorce?”

“No.”

She straightened her back. “What was it you said to me? ‘Couldn’t I talk in more than one word sentences?’ The same to you, Nick.”

“All right,” he drawled, giving her a level stare. “I have no intention of applying for a divorce. If you decide to do so, that is your business.”

As if it didn’t affect him in any way, she thought resentfully. But then, that had been the problem with their marriage, too. He seemed totally unaffected by it. Except in the bedroom.

She immediately shut down those thoughts. “More tea?” she offered, since she didn’t know what else to say.

“No, I don’t want any more damn tea!”

“Then perhaps we’d better talk about how we’re going to get out of here. It’s almost three o’clock. Can you get the helicopter to come back for us?”

“I can try,” he said, and rose from the table.

Try? The great Nicholas Avery never failed. He was the wonder of the financial world, a touchstone of success that had everyone crowding around him. If he wanted the helicopter to come back, it would come back. Even if he had to buy it.

“We’re out of luck,” he said seconds later, turning back to the table.

“What are you talking about? Are they too busy? Will they come later?”

“I have no idea. The phone is dead.”




Chapter Two


“What?” Andrea exclaimed. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the telephone.

When she lifted the receiver, Nick growled, “Can’t you even believe me about the stupid phone?”

Her cheeks flushed red, Andrea looked away from Nick as she hung up the receiver. They had never argued while they were married until the night before Andrea had decided to leave him. Then, as now, she’d expressed disbelief at something Nick had said.

“I just—it was a natural reaction,” she assured him and then hurriedly asked, “do you think they’ll fix it anytime soon?”

As if nature wanted to answer her question, a loud boom of thunder shook the house.

Nick gave her a sardonic grin. “Anything else you want to know?”

She gritted her teeth. “Yes. What are we going to do?”

“Stay inside where it’s dry. We should be all right. Aunt Bess could feed an army at a moment’s notice. Even if the electricity goes off, we’ve got—”

“Do you think it will?” Andrea asked with a gasp, nervously looking at the overhead light.

“Andy, relax. If it does, we have oil lamps and firewood. No problem.”

His casual dismissal of their predicament irritated her. He’d accused her of overreacting when they’d argued. She hadn’t liked it then and she hated it now.

“Fine,” she snapped, and turned her back on him, crossing her arms over her chest. No problem? Even with all the electricity she wanted, she’d still be stuck here alone with Nick. If that wasn’t a problem, she didn’t know what was.

Feeling his stare on her, she whirled back around. “I’m going to find something to read,” she muttered without looking at him. Bess was a prolific reader and kept a lot of books around the house. Andrea needed something to take her mind off the six-foot-three bundle of trouble staring at her.

“I think I’ll take a nap, if you don’t need me,” Nick offered in return. “I’m still on Africa time.”

She risked a look and immediately noted the shadows under his eyes. Why hadn’t she seen them before? Probably because she’d been distracted by his body, she admitted to herself. And because she was afraid to look him in the eye for any length of time. Those eyes of his could mesmerize her faster than a rattler could lure an innocent rabbit to come closer.

“Fine,” she agreed, and entered the living room to search for a book.

Something was pulling her from sleep. Andrea shifted and banged her elbow into hardness. Funny, she thought fuzzily, what’s the wall doing there? Her bed wasn’t next to the wall.

Even as that thought came, she noticed the cut-velvet texture under her cheek and her eyes opened. Aunt Bess. She was at Aunt Bess’s house. And Aunt Bess was in the hospital and Nick was here.

With her.

She groaned and sat up, dislodging the book she’d been reading. Not that it had held her interest. She’d checked on Nick several times, enjoying the opportunity to watch him sleep, forbidden fruit as it were.

The urge to join him on the big bed had sent her scurrying back to the sofa in the living room. And her own eventual nap. She was so tired lately.

The deep shadows in the room caught her attention. Had the electricity gone off, as Nick had predicted? She quickly reached for the lamp and breathed a sigh of relief when it clicked on, sending shafts of light around the room.

Her watch read ten past seven, which explained the growl from her stomach. She got up and tiptoed to Bess’s bedroom. Pushing the door open only enough to peek in, she discovered Nick was still sleeping. Quietly, she retreated to the kitchen.

Though she was unsure whether Nick would join her for dinner or not, Andrea had no intention of being a martyr and skipping the meal. As Nick had said, Aunt Bess always had more than enough food on hand. After a quick survey, Andrea opened a can of soup and put it on to heat while she fixed some sandwiches from the fresh turkey she found in the refrigerator.

When everything was ready, she went back to the bedroom and pushed the door open slightly again. When it abruptly swung all the way back, she smothered a scream and jumped.

“Easy, there. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Nick said, though his look wasn’t an apology.

“I thought you were still sleeping.”

“Were you going to wake me?”

“I don’t know. I fixed something to eat, but I didn’t know if…if you were hungry.” She backed toward the kitchen, unsure what to do next.

“I’m starving,” he assured her, his gaze pinned on her face.

“It’s only soup and sandwiches.”

“Good enough.”

He took a step toward her and she turned and fled to the kitchen. Somehow she feared he might mistake her for his meal.

They ate in silence until Nick had finished.

“You’ve got a healthy appetite,” he observed.

Her head snapped up and she stared at him before looking away. “I always have,” she said mildly.

“True. But you didn’t always look like a waif with eyes too big for your face. What have you been doing to yourself?”

He continued to stare at her, and the turkey in her mouth tasted like sawdust. She swallowed before replying, “I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to eat?” he asked skeptically. “Everyone should make time for proper meals.”

Since he’d constantly missed dinner because of work, Andrea couldn’t believe her ears. “Is this the same man who called most evenings to say he’d grab a bite somewhere, that I shouldn’t count on him for dinner?”

He gave her a lopsided grin, almost an apology if she could believe her eyes. “Maybe I learned the importance of meals after what I had to eat in Africa.”

The reminder of how close she’d come to living in a world without him pierced her heart. She’d accepted that he wasn’t going to be a part of her life, but she couldn’t bear to think of him dead.

“Was it very bad?”

A low grumble was his first response. When she continued to watch him, he muttered, “Yeah. Eat your sandwich. You can’t afford to waste any calories.”

“Will you tell me about it?” It would be torture to hear what he’d suffered, but somehow she had to know.

“No. There’s no point in talking about it. Eat.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised. He hadn’t wanted to talk during their marriage. His only interest had been in the bedroom. In the beginning, she’d been so swept off her feet, so overwhelmed by his magneticism, she hadn’t noticed how limited their relationship was.

Then he’d taken her to a company dinner. The stunning blonde who worked in accounting discussed business with him. Then they talked about sports, mostly the Chicago Bears. Two men joined them and expanded the conversation to hunting.

Andrea had stood there, realizing for the first time that she had no knowledge of Nick’s real life. She could tell the blonde what turned her husband on. She could share with the gentlemen what he said when he reached satisfaction. She knew what he liked her to wear.

But she didn’t know him.

They’d only been married a month, after a whirlwind courtship that was even shorter. Andrea set out to correct the difficulty. And found herself blocked at every turn. If she made plans for the two of them, Nick inevitably canceled. Work was too hectic; candlelit dinners ended with her eating alone.

Attempts at conversation either were dismissed because he was too tired…or because he wanted her. When she protested her loneliness, he offered her a bigger allowance and told her to join some clubs.

Most painful of all, when she’d asked about starting a family, he’d flatly refused.

“You’re not eating,” he reminded her, dragging her from her distasteful memories.

She abruptly stood. “I’ve finished.” Crossing to the sink, she dumped what was left of her sandwich in the trash and began rinsing the dishes. The kitchen was completely up-to-date, thanks to Nick. He couldn’t persuade Aunt Bess to move to Chicago, or to let him build her a new house. But she was terribly proud of her new kitchen.

“So, where are you living now?” Nick asked as he sat slouched at the table.

Andrea eyed his casual air, but she wasn’t fooled. “You already know.”

He didn’t move, but his gaze intensified. “What makes you think that?”

“Who else would deposit ten thousand dollars into my checking account?” When she’d gotten the deposit slip in the mail, she’d first thought the bank had made a mistake. But when she’d called, the bank officer had kindly explained that her husband had thought she might need additional funds in her separate account. He even assured her that if she needed more, any check she wrote would be covered by her husband’s bank in Chicago.

“I thought you might be strapped for cash. You didn’t take much with you.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

“I’m fine. I can return the money to you whenever you want it.” She might not be living in the lap of luxury, but she was managing.

“I don’t want the damn money,” he replied, straightening, his shoulders stiff.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she crossed to the table and reached for his dishes. In a flash he had seized her wrists, forcing her to stand still.

“Andy, why did you leave?”

Her heart beat faster as she debated her response. They’d had an argument, but she hadn’t decided to leave until after he’d left their penthouse, bound for the airport for another business trip. Like most runaways, she’d left a note.

“I—I told you in the note.”

“‘Our marriage isn’t working’? You think that’s an explanation for walking out? Hell, we were only married for six months!” His brows furrowed across his forehead and those devilish blue eyes glinted with fury.

She pulled from his grasp. “What do you care? You didn’t come after me or call me. You just went on about your business, leader of free enterprise, billionaire extraordinaire.”

He rose and Andrea took a step back. “Is that what your leaving was all about? You wanted me to come after you? To prove that I love you? Didn’t I tell you I love you? Can’t you accept my word? Do I have to—”

“No!” she replied sharply, interrupting his tirade. “No, that wasn’t what I wanted. I want a divorce. That’s all I want. You can keep your money.”

She turned her back to him and took a deep breath, hoping to steady her racing pulse. She needed to stay calm.

When he spoke again, his voice was even, as if he, too, recognized the need for control. “At the moment, you’re still my wife, Andy. I’m supposed to provide for you.”

“We’re separated, Nick. Just because I haven’t filed for divorce, yet…” She stopped because she didn’t want to discuss why she hadn’t filed for divorce.

“And you think by taking an apartment in Kansas City, getting a job with Robbins Interiors, buying a beat-up old car that can’t safely take you a block—”

“How do you know all that?” she demanded, surprised before she stopped to think. When she did use her head, the answer was appallingly clear. “You had me followed?” she asked, her eyes wide with dismay, her voice rising several octaves. How else would he know so much about her life?

“No, of course not!” When she continued to glare at him, not giving an inch, he muttered, “Just checked up on. You’re my wife, Andy. It’s my duty to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection,” she assured him. Turning, she set his dishes on the cabinet and then walked to the door. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To watch the news on television.”

Bess had refused all Nick’s attempts to buy her a television, but he’d finally surprised her with one for her birthday two years ago. Though she complained about it a lot, she’d finally confessed to Andrea that she “occasionally” watched a soap opera. And then proceeded to relate every plot twist for the past two years.

Andrea switched on the set and checked her watch. She had at least an hour to kill before the ten o’clock news came on. Hopefully, there’d be some program worth watching.

As she flicked through the channels, she heard a step behind her.

“Mind if I join you?”

“You? I didn’t think you watched television.” She didn’t turn around, thinking that he might go away if she didn’t look at him.

“I don’t think I can make any deals tonight without a telephone or a fax, so I might as well relax.”

Unable to bear being close to him, afraid he might question her more, she swung around and tossed the channel changer to him. “Here. I think I’ll go to bed.”

He caught her arm as she rushed past him. “Come on, Andy. Sit down and watch television. I promise I’ll be quiet.”

And would he also promise not to touch her? Even as briefly as he held her arm, she could feel her blood racing, heating up. He had no interest in her, but she responded to his presence like a hound after a fox.

“I really don’t—”

“Andy.”

That one word, softly spoken, halted her protests. With a shrug, she tugged her arm away and walked back toward the television. But she didn’t sit on the sofa where she’d taken her earlier nap. No, she sat in the big chair, which was Bess’s favorite spot.

Nick settled on the sofa, his long legs stretched out across the coffee table. Reading the program guide, he gave her the choices for the next hour. One of the popular hospital shows was just starting, and Andy chose it.

The problems of a modern hospital were absorbing and entertaining until halfway through the show when a guest character came through the emergency door pregnant and in labor. Nick, who’d been relaxed and absorbed, shifted his position on the couch, and Andrea noted a frown on his brow.

Almost unconsciously she covered her stomach with her hands and turned back to the television. She watched the doctors reassure the woman and then confer in private about her chances of survival.

“This is crap,” Nick muttered. “How about a snack?”

“A snack?” she asked, distracted by the drama in front of her.

“Yeah. You don’t want to watch this stuff. It’s depressing.” He stood and took her hand to tug her to her feet.

“I want to see what happens,” she protested.

When she didn’t respond to his pull, he dropped her hand. “Fine. I’m going to the kitchen. Shall I bring you anything?”

“I’d like an apple and a glass of milk,” she said, turning her attention back to the TV.

He made a disgusted sound and left the room.

Following the plotline of the story, Andrea breathed a sigh of relief when the doctors were able to deliver a healthy baby with a promise of the mother’s recovery.

“Here. What happened?” Nick asked, returning from the kitchen.

She looked up in surprise to find Nick holding the apple and a glass of milk out to her. “She had her baby and everything’s fine. A little boy. See, there he is,” she said, pointing toward the television set.

Nick harumphed and sat back down on the sofa. “They shouldn’t use real babies. What’s wrong with those parents? Babies should be home, safe in their nurseries.”

“I think they have strict laws to protect the baby. And the money can provide for college later on.” She bit into her apple, enjoying the juicy crunch of it. “That’s not all bad. Besides, the show wouldn’t be as good if you didn’t get to see the pretty baby.”

“Babies are a lot of trouble.”

Andrea turned to look at him as he stared at the television, her heart aching. “I think a baby would be worth any trouble he caused.”

Somehow they’d never discussed babies before their marriage. She’d just assumed he’d want a family, as she did. When her parents died in a car accident, she’d become an orphan at an early age. She’d been in several foster homes until she got out of high school and was on her own.

With scholarships and some money from her parents’ life insurance, she’d made it through college, but she’d been lonely. In quiet moments, she’d dreamed of having her own family someday, someone to share the happiness and shoulder the pain together.

She kept her face glued to the television, not wanting to see any more rejection on his face.

Nick said nothing else and the program drew to a close. The news commentator asked them to remain tuned to that station for the latest update of the flood hitting the midwest and an up-to-the-minute weather report.

“Reporting the weather can’t be that difficult if the man can spell ‘rain,”’ Nick muttered.

“Maybe the forecast is going to change. If the rain stops, it shouldn’t take too long for things to get back to normal.”

“And what’s normal?” Nick growled. “You in Kansas City and me in Chicago?”

“We were talking about the weather, Nick.”

“I don’t want to talk about the weather. I want—”

“Shh! The news is starting. I want to hear it.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and tried to concentrate on the television, but in reality, she was listening for another protest from Nick. But he surprised her and said nothing.

“Good evening. Thank you for watching. The midwest, Missouri and Kansas in particular, are experiencing the worst flooding in its history. The Mississippi River is twelve feet above flood level and the Missouri, which feeds into the larger river, is several feet higher. For more details, let’s go to our reporter in St. Louis, Jason Freed. Jason…”

Watching the ravages of the flood was heartbreaking. But it brought home to Andrea just how grateful she should be to be safe, with no loved ones threatened. She might not like being trapped with Nick for a day or two, but at least she was safe in Hubbard, Missouri.

When the focus of attention was switched to the weatherman, both she and Nick leaned forward. Unfortunately, the man didn’t have good news. While there was a lull in the storm at the moment, radar showed more rain on the way, for at least the next five days.

“Five days?” Andrea gasped, forgetting for a moment that she should be grateful.

“At least,” Nick added with a frown. “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had a phone.”

A sudden idea struck her. “What about your cellular phone? I thought you carried it with you everywhere.” Her breathing quickened at the thought of their being rescued.

“I haven’t been back to Chicago since I left for Africa, Andy. When I heard about the floods, I came straight here from New York.”

“Oh.” No wonder he looked so tired. “Were you really kidnapped, or did you just get lost?”

He gave a smile that was more a bare movement of the lips than an attempt to indicate humor. “I was kidnapped.”

“Why?”

“An attempt to put pressure on the government. The group who kidnapped me wanted them to release some of their members who’d been imprisoned. They thought if they took an American businessman, the U.S.A. would force their government to act.”

“And did they?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I escaped and found some help to get me back to civilization.”

For the first time, she noticed the skin on his wrists. It appeared darker than the rest of his skin, as if it had recently been rubbed raw.

Reaching out, she ran a finger over one wrist until his hand grabbing hers awakened her to what she was doing. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” he ordered her tightly. “It’s over.”

She pulled her hand free and nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, it’s over.” And so was their marriage, their life together. And she would bear the scars for the rest of her life.

Standing, she said, “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, also rising.

Because she’d hoped he would continue watching television a little longer, she stared at him, her eyes wide.

“You’re going to bed now?”

“Yeah. You want the bathroom first?” His tone was casual, as if such forced intimacy didn’t bother him.

Andrea wished she could show as much cool. But she couldn’t. With a nod, she rushed from the room.

A few minutes later she emerged from the bath to find Nick stretched out on Bess’s big bed, his hands folded behind his head. She fought to pull her gaze from his muscular length. “Sorry if I took too long.”

“Nope. It gave me time to warm the bed for you.”

She almost choked as she took in his words. “W-warm the bed for me?” Swallowing, she added, “I thought you’d want this bed. After all, Bess is your aunt. I’ll take the other bedroom.”

“I guess you haven’t looked in there yet,” he said nonchalantly as he sat up.

Foreboding ran through her. “No. Is there a problem?”

“Yeah. A leak in the roof.”

“Where?”

“Right over the middle of the bed. Lucky break, though. The mattress was ruined, but the carpet didn’t suffer. I dragged the mattress out to the garage and put a pot under the leak to catch the drip.”

Lucky break. Yeah, right. She gathered her scattered wits around her and turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To find some blankets and make up a bed on the sofa.”

“I don’t see the need for that, Andy. After all, we’re not divorced yet. We can share this bed.”

He stood and walked toward her, but she knew, come hell or high water, and the latter was a real possibility, she wasn’t sharing a bed with Nick.




Chapter Three


Nick followed her from the bedroom to the linen closet filled with Bess’s beautiful quilts.

“Andy? There’s plenty of cover on the bed. It’s not going to be that cold tonight.”

“Good,” she said as she pulled a sheet and several quilts from different shelves. “I’ll need one of your pillows, please. Would you get it for me?”

“Where do you think you’re going to sleep?” he demanded, his hands on his hips when she turned around.

“On the sofa.”

She shut the closet door and headed toward the living room, with Nick following right behind her. She would’ve run if she’d thought it would do her any good. But he’d always been faster than her.

Feeling his glare in the middle of her back as she reached the sofa, she tried to send him away. “The pillow, Nick? Would you get it for me?”

“No!” he roared, frustration lacing his voice. “I won’t get the damned pillow for you. Andy, you’re being ridiculous, thinking you’re going to sleep here on an uncomfortable sofa when there’s an entire king-size bed in the other room.”

“Thinking I’m going to sleep here?” she repeated, her voice rising. “How are you going to stop me, Nick? Unless you learned some kidnapping techniques from your jaunt to Africa.”

Too many times in their marriage, she’d given in to his dominance, wanting to please him, to keep their marriage strong. All it had done was encourage him to take advantage of her, she’d finally decided during the past lonely month. No longer would she allow him to order her around.

Her response seemed to dumbfound him. Finally, after shifting his weight several times, he muttered, “I’m trying to take care of you, Andy. You look like a small puff of wind would blow you away. You need your rest.”

She stiffened her backbone against his tenderness. “Thank you, Nick, but I’ll be fine on the sofa.”

Turning her back to him, she began to make a bed for herself. If she worked hard at it, she could pretend she was alone, that the man she adored more than any other wasn’t watching her, trying to persuade her to share his bed.

When his hands seized her shoulders and inexorably pulled her away from the sofa, she struggled against him. “Nick, what—”

“Relax. I’m going to sleep here. You go get in bed.” Stepping around her, he bent over the sofa to arrange the bedding.

Tears gathered in her eyes. How could she resist such caring? Just as she was about to agree to their sharing a bed, under certain conditions, of course, a suspicion crossed her mind. Was that his plan? Charm her and get his way? Not this time, Nick.

“I don’t think you’ll fit, Nick. The sofa isn’t long enough for you,” she reminded him, giving a little shove with her hip as she moved to the sofa.

Unfortunately her hip didn’t connect with his. Instead, it brushed against the front of his jeans and his arms surrounded her. He buried his face in her hair and muttered, “Andy.”

“No!” she protested, pulling away before her desire could overpower her. She’d learned six months ago that a woman’s desire could be just as powerful as a man’s.

They stood there staring at each other.

“Come on, Andy,” he finally whispered.

“No, I won’t. We’re not husband and wife anymore and—”

“Damn it, would you stop saying that?”

The pain in his voice almost awakened her sympathy, her matching suffering. Almost. “No, I can’t stop saying that because it’s true. And I mustn’t forget it.”

“Why? What did I do that was so terrible? You muttered a lot of mumbo-jumbo that last night. Crazy things about your freedom, your time. What do you want, Andy?”

What did she want? She couldn’t tell him the truth, because she couldn’t have what she wanted. She already knew that. So she only told him part of the truth.

“I want me, Nick. That’s all I want.”

“Another cryptic message, I suppose,” he replied with sarcasm. “Is this another test, like coming after you? Because I don’t like to be tested, Andy. I expect my wife to trust me. Of all the people in the world, she’s the one person who must trust me.”

Andy almost laughed, but she was working too hard to hold back the tears. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. Go to bed, Nick.”

He didn’t move. “Come with me, Andy. I’ll even promise not to touch you.”

From his voice she could tell that promise hadn’t been his original intention when he’d first invited her to his bed. The shiver that coursed through her had nothing to do with the coldness. “No, Nick. Go to bed.”

This time he did as she asked, stalking from the room as if he were a six-year-old unfairly punished. Again, Andy covered her stomach with her hands. Perhaps one day she’d see the same reaction again, with a real six-year-old.

With a faint smile, she continued preparing her bed, trying to think about the future, not the past.

A soft thud pulled her from her thoughts and she saw the white pillow as it landed on the other end of the sofa. She looked up to discover Nick glaring at her from the doorway.

“Thank you for remembering,” she called softly.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, and closed the door with extra emphasis.

Andrea settled among the covers, her head resting on the pillow, and smiled again. Yes, definitely a six-year-old. But one who was well nigh irresistible. She’d be well advised to keep her distance.

Andrea awakened the next morning with the covers twisted around her and one foot exposed, her toes feeling frozen. She sat up to cover the poor cold foot and realized she hadn’t brought any crackers to bed with her.

“Rats!” she moaned, and made a run for the kitchen sink.

The next few moments were unpleasant, but she’d grown used to the morning routine. It served her right for not remembering the crackers. When she did, she was sometimes able to avoid the daily upheaval.

She was washing her face when she heard footsteps behind her. Whirling around, she discovered a frowning Nick.

“Did I wake you? I—I woke up starving and thought I’d fix some breakfast,” she said brightly, hoping to fool him.

“I’m not surprised. You didn’t eat enough dinner last night. Sit down and I’ll fix breakfast.” He moved toward her so she hurried out of his way.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” They’d had a housekeeper, one who’d been with Nick a number of years. Andrea didn’t think he’d ever seen the inside of a kitchen.

“Of course, I can cook. Do you think Aunt Bess would forget to teach me?” He was bent over, searching, she supposed, for a frying pan. Andrea shook her head when she realized her gaze was concentrated on his well-defined butt instead of their conversation.

“Um, if you’re going to cook, I think I’ll go back to bed. I didn’t sleep too well.” Besides, if he fried bacon, she was afraid she’d have another round of sickness.

He gave her a strange look as she edged toward the door. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

“Okay, go back to bed. I’ll bring you your breakfast when it’s finished. In fact, go get in Bess’s bed where you’ll be more comfortable.”

Her eyes widened and she struggled to find an answer.

“I’m not planning on joining you,” he added. “You’ve made your point.”

He thought she didn’t want him? Before she could burst into hysterical laughter at the idea, she whirled and left the room. She hesitated, though, when she reached the foot of the big bed. The slight indentation in the center of the mattress, where Nick always slept, filled her with longing. Rounding the bed, she reached out and touched that area, not really surprised to find a lingering warmth.

Her mouth watered as she remembered the nights wrapped in Nick’s arms. He was hot enough to heat all of Chicago, she reflected, and then giggled. And that could be taken several ways.

“You okay?” Nick called.

Quickly she scrambled into the bed and pulled up the covers. She didn’t want him checking on her. “Yes, I’m fine,” she shouted. “I’m in bed.”

Now if she could only keep from throwing up when he brought her the unwanted breakfast, she’d count it a successful morning.

When she awoke the next time, she could’ve eaten anything Nick cooked, but there was no Nick in sight and she could smell nothing cooking. A quick check of her watch showed that she’d slept several hours.

“Nick?”

He appeared in the doorway, dressed in tight jeans and another sweatshirt. “You’re awake.”

“Yes. I’m sorry I fell asleep while you were cooking breakfast. You changed clothes. Where did you find those?”

“Down in the basement. I left them here a long time ago. At least it’s a change from the overalls. Are you hungry now?”

“Starved.” Her gaze kept traveling up and down him, drinking in his masculine appeal.

“I’ll start lunch.”

He turned to go and Andrea called out to him. “I’ll fix lunch if you want, Nick.”

“Nope, I’ll do it. There isn’t a lot else to do.”

“Do I have time for a quick shower?”

“Sure. Take your time.”

She took Nick at his word. The only thing that drove her from the eye-awakening steamy shower was the growl from her stomach. She had discovered that once she was past the morning sickness, her hunger was incredible.

When she joined Nick in the kitchen, he had the food on the table. “I’m so impressed with your domestic abilities, Nick. I had no idea you were so talented.”

One black brow slid up as he gave her a cool stare. “You think I should’ve spent my time in the kitchen instead of amassing a fortune?”

Andrea looked away from his challenge. “It might have made you appear a little more human,” she finally muttered.

He slapped a plateful of food in front of her. “But it wouldn’t have paid for the penthouse.”

“I prefer Bess’s house to the penthouse,” she asserted, raising her chin in challenge.

“And the clothes, the furs, the jewels?”

“I don’t believe I ever asked for those things. You told me I had to have them for your image.”

“I didn’t hear you complain about wearing them,” he growled, joining her at the table.

She had the grace to blush. There had been a part of her that had enjoyed the luxury, she would admit, but it was a small part. “They were nice, but not—” She broke off. Their conversation was pointless. And painful.

“Not what? Obviously they weren’t important enough to hold you, unless you have plans to buy your own with the divorce settlement.” The bitterness in his voice was reflected on his face, turning his handsome features into something to be feared.

The sandwich he fixed for her tasted like cardboard as she thought of her response. She didn’t want his money, or at least, not much of it. But she couldn’t make the dramatic statement that he could keep all of it. She’d need some help.

“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?” he persisted. “Somehow I hadn’t pictured you as a gold digger, sweetheart.”

His last word hurt. It had the sharp edge of a knife, slicing through her heart.

But she wasn’t going to reveal such weakness. “I guess it just proves even the great Nicholas Avery can make mistakes.” She tried to avoid looking at him, but out of the corner of her eye she saw his hard, speculative gaze concentrated on her face.





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