Sarah's Child Read online

  Pushing his characteristic possessiveness aside, he walked her back to her office, and his critical eye noted that Max’s kiss hadn’t brought the delicate apricot tint to her face that she wore whenever he made love to her. Leaning over her desk, he gave her a quick hard kiss, as much to watch that entrancing rise of color as to taste the sweetness of her mouth. “Tonight? We can go through the newspapers and mark those apartments that look suitable.”

  Pleased, Sarah smiled at him. “Would seven be all right? That will give me time to have some sort of meal almost finished.”

  “Forget about cooking. I’ll bring something over.”

  Watching him walk out of the office, Sarah had to pinch herself to be certain she wasn’t dreaming. They were really going to be married.

  He’d made love to her the night before, and the thought of it made her heart leap into her throat. If the first time had been unbridled passion, the second had been a lesson in the rewards of self-control. It had all begun so casually, while they were watching the evening news on television. During a commercial, he’d tilted her face up to kiss her, and the kiss had lingered, become many kisses. Soon she was lying naked on the sofa, and he had patiently, carefully guided her to full satisfaction, lingering at each plateau and savoring her response, making her as hungry for him as he was for her. He’d also taken care of the protective measures, which had prompted Sarah’s call first thing that morning to her doctor, which was why she had an appointment at one o’clock.

  It was two thirty when she finally got back to the office, a packet of pills in her purse and her head ringing with Dr. Easterwood’s warnings and advice. At the age of thirty-three, she was becoming almost too old for taking birth control pills to be safe. Dr. Easterwood had prescribed the lowest dosage available, with the stern warning that she wanted to see Sarah every six months, and that two years was the maximum length she’d give Sarah before an alternative method would have to be decided on.

  Max came out of his office when he heard her enter, a slight frown marring his classic brow. “Are you all right? You were gone longer than I expected.”

  “I’m fine. I had a doctor’s appointment, and you know how it is: you never get in at the time of your appointment.”

  “Rome has already called twice,” he informed her impishly.

  She worked with a smile on her face and an inner happiness that was based on the attitude Rome was exhibiting. Love or not, the way he was acting told her that he cared, and she would take whatever she could get. He wasn’t showing the often impatient possessiveness with which he’d demanded Diane’s time, but Sarah didn’t expect that he’d feel that way with her even if he did eventually come to love her. Diane had been beautiful, vibrant, a live wire who caught everyone’s attention the moment she walked through the door. Sarah felt that too often she herself resembled a white mouse more than she did anything else. Vivid makeup made her look like a clown, while sparing makeup just tended to be more of the same. She’d found a compromise, over the years, that kept her from blending completely into the background, but her coloring was so fair that she’d never be able to use the kind of dramatic makeup that would draw all eyes to her immediately. She’d like to make Rome sit up and take notice whenever she walked into a room, but somehow she felt that that role was beyond her.

  That night, after they’d eaten the sweet-and-sour chicken he’d brought, they spread the newspapers on the table and went over the ads for apartments for rent, with Rome circling the ones he thought might be suitable. Sarah carefully kept herself from thumbing through the columns of houses for sale, knowing that he’d never agree to buying a house. The suburban routine would remind him too strongly of the family he’d lost, and the playing children would drive him insane.

  He tapped his pen on one ad that he thought particularly likely, and Sarah leaned over to read it. Her hair, loosened from its knot, swung forward over his tanned forearm, and he went very still. Not noticing, she read the ad, pursing her lips as she considered it.

  “It sounds good. Roomy enough, but it’ll probably cost the Earth—” As she spoke she turned her head to look up at him. He moved swiftly, and her words were broken off with a gasp as he turned her and pulled her onto his lap, his mouth coming down to stifle the rest of what she’d been saying, cradling her on his left arm while his right hand moved boldly over her body, searching out all of the erotic places that he knew would reward him for his diligence.

  Sarah made a soft sound in her throat, sinking against him. His powerful body made her feel surrounded, utterly secure, and she had the thought that she didn’t need a homey, comfortable apartment to make her feel safe as long as he held her in his arms. The strength that he kept under control when he was handling her was evident in the steely sinews of his thighs, the rock hardness of his chest. She sought the warm solid contours of his flesh beneath his shirt, sliding her hands beneath the fabric to clench her fingers on him. He nibbled at her mouth, finally releasing it; then he tilted her head back and kissed his way down her throat. “So what if it costs the Earth?” he muttered. “We’ll look at it tomorrow.”

  “Hmmm,” she agreed dreamily, no longer interested in apartments.

  He unbuttoned her shirt and pressed a kiss to the top swell of her breast, above the lacy edge of her bra. “That damned Max! He knew I was watching.”

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her eyes misty with pleasure. “He’s a devil.”

  “He’s lucky you weren’t kissing him back.” He returned her smile, but his tone was feral, his dark eyes narrowed. “Then I wouldn’t have been so civilized.”

  As it had been, he hadn’t liked it—he hadn’t liked the idea of Max’s kisses lingering on her mouth. He wanted only his taste on her lips, so he’d kissed away Max’s touch. He kissed her again, for good measure, then reluctantly buttoned her blouse and hoisted her back to her own chair. “We’d better not push our luck,” he grunted. “I came over straight from the office, and I don’t have anything with me.”

  Sarah cleared her throat. “About that…my appointment today was with a doctor. I got a prescription for birth control pills.”

  He leaned back, draping his arm over the back of his chair while he looked at her searchingly, alerted by the hesitancy in her manner that she’d tried very hard not to reveal. His craggy black brows lowered. “Is it all right for you to take them?”

  “She’s letting me try them, but only if I go back for regular checkups,” she admitted on a sigh. “She gave me two years, maximum, before I have to switch to something else.”

  “If it’s dangerous, don’t take them.” He reached out and took her hand, tracing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I’ve been thinking about having surgery. It’s safe, and permanent.”

  Sarah shied away from that solution. Its permanency was the one big drawback, for her. Sometime in the future Rome could change his mind about not wanting anymore children, even if this marriage with her didn’t work out. She was so acutely aware that he didn’t love her that she had to allow for the possibility of him falling in love with another woman, and perhaps that woman would want his children. Perhaps he would want her to have his children. Feeling herself shatter inside at the thought, she pulled away from him before she revealed too much about how she felt. Instead, averting her face, she said in a stifled voice, “We can talk about that later, if the pills don’t work out.”

  Puzzled, he stared at her, running the words they’d just said through his mind again and trying to decide what he’d said that had made her withdraw from him and put on that frosty face he so detested. She’d been so relaxed and natural with him lately, forgetting to guard her actions, and he’d become used to her smiles, her gentle teasing. Now she was Miss Ice-Queen again. She’d begun getting edgy when she’d first mentioned the pills. She wasn’t telling him something, and he knew it. He’d thought, when he’d first made love to her, that he’d discovered the reason for her reserve, but now he was seeing it spring