Bittersweet Chocolate (32 page)

Tristan slid the curtain back and moved to the bed. Marissa lay propped up on pillows with her eyes closed, calm, and relaxed. She must have sensed his presence because she opened her eyes and smiled. He bent and kissed her mouth.

“You scared me.”

“I scared me.”

“What did the doctor say was wrong with you? He didn’t tell me that much.”

“They took blood and other specimens, said they would run tests. Doctor wants me to stay overnight.”

“Good. I want them to keep you until they find out what’s wrong.”

“This has never happened to me before.”

“I don’t want it to happen again.” He smoothed damp wisps of hair from her forehead.

“Go to work, Tris. I’ll be all right. Is Vi here?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Tris, Vi’s family, who else would you call.”

“True.” Relieved of his earlier tension, he bent down and kissed her again. “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?”

“I’m sure, now go. You’ve dealt with enough lately. I’ll be fine with Vi here. But I’m not staying overnight. I will promise to go home and go straight to bed.”

“Okay, I’ll send Vi in as I leave.” He stared into her eyes for several seconds before brushing a quick kiss across her lips. “Don’t play me, Rissa. Go home, go to bed, do not go to work. I’m going to call and check on you.” He left.

* * * *

Two minutes later, Vi poked her head into the cubicle.

“Come in, Vi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“This is great!” Marissa stared, her look quizzical. “You really don’t know, do you? Think about it. Been sick in the mornings, nauseated by food smells?” Vi studied Marissa’s features and knew the exact moment what the problem might be dawned on Marissa.

Eyes rounding in wonder, she whispered, “It can’t be.”

“Oh. When did you have your last period? With everything that’s been happening lately, I’ll bet you haven’t noticed. It hasn’t occurred to Tristan either.”

“Why would it? They told me I couldn’t get pregnant. Why would they say that? Besides, I’ve never had regular periods. After the rape, they became more erratic. Vi, it can’t be.”

“Well, I guess your Tristan is a little more potent than medical science,” she teased. “Doctors can’t know everything.”

“Oh God, if this is true, Tristan will be ecstatic, I’m ecstatic! But...” Her voice died away. Brows drawn together, she nibbled her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?” Vi asked.

“I’m almost thirty-five.”

“Whoa, I’m scared of you, so what?”

“I’m too old to have a baby.”

“Girl, give it a rest. Women in their forties have babies every day.”

Marissa burst into tears. Vi nudged her aside and clambered up on the bed. Putting an arm across Marissa’s shoulders, she pulled her close and let her cry. Vi couldn’t have been happier for Marissa. First she found Tristan, and now, having a baby.

The doctor came into the cubicle. “From the look on your face, I gather you’ve guessed you’re pregnant, Miss Wells.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’d rather keep you overnight.”

“I promise I’ll go to bed and rest. Vi, promise you’ll see to it that I go home and go straight to bed.”

“Scout’s honor, Doc.” Vi made a sign of the cross over her heart. “Home and straight to bed.”

The doctor laughed. “Okay. Here’s the name of an area ob-gyn physician, Margaret Carey. In view of your medical history, call and get an appointment with her as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

“Come on, Marissa. Let’s get out of here before he changes his mind.” Vi slipped off the bed and helped Marissa get up and dress.

During the drive home, Vi asked, “Marissa, are you okay with this, aside from worrying about your age?”

“Yeah, I’m more than all right with it,” she remarked. “I’ve never used birth control. Back in the day, it wasn’t readily available. After the doctor gave me the bad news, didn’t think I’d need it. But just imagine, now, with Tristan...” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Vi grasped Marissa’s trembling hand and they drove the rest of the way in silence.

With Marissa settled in bed, Vi called the obstetrician, explained the situation, and managed to get an appointment for the following week.

“Okay. Everything’s set with the OB. Here, I wrote it down for you.” Vi handed Marissa a slip of paper. “If you don’t need me to do anything else, I have to get back to work. Will you be okay here alone?”

“Hey. I’m pregnant, not disabled.” Marissa snorted. “Go to work, I’ll be okay.”

Vi hugged her and left.

* * * *

Marissa sat propped up in bed, face frozen in a perpetual smile, finding it hard to believe she was pregnant, and with Tristan’s child. Following several moments of quiet contemplation, she put the piece of paper in the bedside table drawer, readjusted her pillows, lay back, and relaxed.

The turmoil and excitement of the day took its toll, and her eyelids started to droop.

* * * *

Tristan let the phone ring for a few minutes. Damn. They really needed to get an answering machine. He glanced at his watch. It was almost time to leave work. He spoke to his secretary while he packed his briefcase. “Alicia, I’ll be in early tomorrow, barring any more unforeseen events.”

On the drive home, he continued to worry about the unanswered phone. Marissa had to be there. Vi had called and assured him that she’d left Marissa at home in bed. Pulling into the garage, he climbed out of his car, reached behind the driver’s seat, snatched up his briefcase, and hurried inside. There were no lights on and he rushed straight to the bedroom, stopped on the threshold, and exhaled sharply. Marissa lay asleep on the bed, and he didn’t wake her.

He took a quick shower, slipped into jeans and a t-shirt, went into the kitchen, and rummaged through the refrigerator until he came to a decision about dinner. He reheated the leftover beef stew, fixed a VO and seven, downed it in one gulp, refreshed his drink, and strode into his den.

Setting the glass on a coaster, he opened his briefcase and took out the employee evaluations he needed to complete. The last couple of weeks had done a job on him, and bringing work home seemed the only way he’d accomplish anything. His concern for Marissa had blown his focus at work.

He dropped down in his desk chair, raked his fingers through his hair, and took a few minutes to massage the stiffness from his neck. Relaxed, he lost himself in his work. How much time passed before he sensed someone watching him, he didn’t have a clue. Looking up and seeing Marissa propped against the doorjamb, he smiled, stood, came around the desk, and pulled her into his arms.

“Hi, sleepyhead, how long have you been awake?” Tightening his hold, he nuzzled her neck, murmuring, “Mmm, smell good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up, a definite invitation.

His gaze lingered on her alluring mouth for a second before taking possession, but she took control, tongue teasing, exploring, teeth nipping, warm mouth sucking on his tongue. Puzzled, he pulled away and stared down at her. “Was that for anything special?”

“I love you.”

“Good thing. I don’t let just anybody kiss me like that.” He kissed the corner of her mouth and grabbed her wandering hands. “Behave. I have the stew warming in the oven. Let’s eat. We need to get some food into you.”

“Tris...”

“No arguments, doctor’s orders.”

She giggled. “Okay, I’m starved. Let’s eat in the living room, and I’ll have Pepsi on ice instead of wine.”

“Get comfortable and I’ll fix the trays.” His gaze followed the bewitching sway of her ass as she walked to the sofa, settled down, and sat there beaming, tawny eyes sparkling. He adjusted a tray over her lap. “You’re awfully happy for someone who was out cold this morning.”

She didn’t respond, but started eating.

Dinner over, he removed their trays. Confused by her nonchalant attitude after her earlier ordeal, while cleaning the kitchen he directed the occasional furtive glance her way. Finished with the cleanup, he returned to the living room and stood by the sofa for a moment, staring down at her. With her head resting against the cushions and her eyes closed, her smile lingered.

He shook his head, moved to the bar, and fixed himself another VO and seven. “Sure you don’t want a glass of wine?”

“None for me, thanks.”

He crossed the room and dropped down beside her on the couch and she snuggled up against him. “What did the doctor say?” She sat up and turned to face him, but didn’t say anything. “What?” He fidgeted under her steady regard. “What is it?”

“Tris, I don’t know where to begin, and can’t begin to explain how it happened.” She grinned. “Tris, we’re-I’m pregnant!”

Frowning, he stared, mind in denial, he couldn’t have heard her correctly, then understanding rendered him speechless.

“Tris, say something.”

“But you said...how can that be? Are you sure?”

“I don’t know how. A miracle, I guess. The doctor told me to ask the obstetrician. After she examines me, maybe she’ll explain. But who cares how, the point is, it happened.” She bounced over onto his lap. “We’re going to have a baby. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, Tris. But a baby.”

“My child, our own baby, dahlin’, are they sure?”

“The doctor seemed quite positive.”

“Is it okay? I mean, your age, the medical issues, it won’t hurt you, will it? Marissa, I won’t lose you!”

“Calm down, Tris. I have an appointment with an OB next week. It’ll be okay, if I take care of myself.”

“Should you be out of bed?”

“Hell, do you and Vi plan this.” Her lips curled in disgust. “I’m not an invalid. Thousands of women have babies every day. Some are older than me, and listen to me, sounding all calm and worldly-wise.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Tris, I’ll be okay, promise.”

He gathered her in his arms, gently kissed her mouth, and she pushed away from him.

“Kiss me properly, Tristan, I’m not fragile.”

He reclaimed her mouth, leaving both gasping for air when he pulled away. “I need you,” he murmured against her ear.

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

She’d started to laugh, then stopped. “You’re serious. Are you thinking about what happened to me before?”

“Yes, damn it.”

“Hell. First the dahlin’, then the dreaded Marissa,” she muttered. “Tris, come on. Unless you plan to brutally rape me, I’m almost sure we can make love until the end of my pregnancy.”

“Almost sure, but not positive.”

“I’m as sure as I can be,” she replied. “Furthermore, I don’t know about you, Mister Corbett, but I can’t abstain for six or seven months, not with you here.”

Tristan helped her to her feet. With his arm about her waist, he steered her into the bedroom, closed the door, and leaned against it. Heart racing, he watched her progress as she moved about the room, lighting candles before she turned and approached him, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of light. A combination of her lithe sensuous movements and the scent permeating the room, the crotch of his jeans became uncomfortable. She stopped mere inches from him.

He took his time undressing her, but it took intensive willpower to stand motionless while she undressed him, teasing him with feather-like caresses. The urge to grab her and make love in their customary, savage fashion overwhelmed him, but the thought of his baby growing inside her tempered his violent impulse.

Divested of his clothes, he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the center of the bed but remained standing, his gaze roaming over her body, visualizing her swollen with his child.

Unable to resist her for long, he climbed on the bed and settled between her legs. The major portion of his weight balanced on his arms, his rigid arousal nestled against soft folds of flesh. Smiling, he stared into passionate tiger eyes, moving his fingertips over her face, Braille-fashion, memorizing.

“I love you so much, Rissa. He’ll have your eyes.”

Her attempt at laughter came out a muffled cough, her voice a soft, husky whisper. “She’s going to have eyes like yours.”

“Okay, compromise.” Not unaffected by the casual contact, his smile wavered. “He’ll have my eyes with your golden-honey skin tone. Girls will be chasing him before he’s out of diapers.”

“She’ll be gorgeous.” Marissa giggled. “Tris, at this moment, I can’t find adequate words to express how happy I am.”

“We’ll have to start looking for a larger home. I’ll get started on that tomorrow, check out a few realtors.”

“Tris, are you sure?”

“Positive. A baby needs space.”

“Sure, but we have plenty of time.”

“Uh-uh, I don’t want you rushing to do everything at the last minute.”

She grinned. “Have I told you how much I love you.”

“I can’t remember. Why don’t you remind me?” He deftly brushed tendrils of hair from her forehead, ran his fingertips down the side of her face, and lightly across her mouth. Famished for the taste of her, his tongue nudged her lips apart, exploring the recesses of her mouth. Satisfied, he pulled away.

“Rissa, I want to do slow.”

* * * *

She heard his concern, but how could she reassure him? His gentleness was driving her crazy, and he wanted to do slow?

Draping her legs over his hips, he lost control, and her body welcomed the intrusion, penetration a raw act of possession. She urged him on, finding the right tempo. Her unsated needs matched his compelling demands. Fingers interlaced, arms extended above their heads, his grip tightened, and his momentum became more determined.

“Promise I won’t hurt the baby.” Closing her eyes, she blocked out his worried expression. “Baby, look at me.”

Her eyes opened and their gazes locked as an explosion of exquisite satisfaction rocked her body. “Tris...” He tensed as she tightened around him, his seed jetting into her in pulsating streams.

* * * *

The following morning, when Tristan arrived at work, he called a few realtors. Learning the housing market was in a decline, he decided on a management company. It was best to put up the house as a rental, and sell when the market bounced back. He set up lookee-loo tours to take place during his and Marissa’s working hours. He didn’t want anything disturbing or upsetting her during her pregnancy.