Expecting His Baby

As he reached over and smoothed her hair back from her face, she didn’t even stir. He’d wanted to make the same gesture with Lise, although from very different motives. Motives nowhere near as pure as the love of a father for his daughter.

He hadn’t seen the last of Lise. He knew that in his bones. Although if she were involved with Dave, he’d be one heck of a lot smarter to keep his distance. If he hadn’t liked the first brush-off, why would he like the second any better? And he’d never tried forcing himself between a woman and her lover. Never had to, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Put Lise Charbonneau out of your mind, he told himself, and focus on getting some sleep. Tomorrow he had to look after Emmy, insurance agents, the police and contractors for repairs. He didn’t need the distraction of a flame-haired woman who thought he was the scum of the earth. Scowling, Judd lay down on the cot that the nurses had provided and stared up at the ceiling. But it was a long time before he fell asleep, because two images kept circling in his brain.

Emmy sleeping in the attic because she was lonely.

And the dirt under Lise’s fingernails. Dirt from a fire in which she’d risked her life for Emmy’s sake.

CHAPTER TWO

THREE days after the fire and her shoulder was still killing her, Lise thought irritably. She hated being off work and having so much time to think. And even more she hated feeling so helpless and ineffective. It was nearly noon, and all she’d accomplished so far today was to have a shower, make her bed and buy a few groceries. The cabbie had been kind enough to carry them upstairs to her apartment door. But she’d had to put them away, one thing at a time, because she could only use her left arm. She wasn’t sleeping well, she’d watched far too much TV the last three days, she’d read until her eyes ached, and yes, she was in a foul mood.

She pulled a chair over to the counter, climbed up and reached for the package of rice. But as she lifted it in her good hand, she bumped her sore shoulder on the edge of the cupboard door. Pain lanced the whole length of her arm. With a sharp cry, she dropped the rice. It hit a can of tomatoes, the bag split and rice showered over the counter and the floor.

Lise knew a great many swearwords, working as she did with a team of men. But not one of them seemed even remotely adequate. Tears of frustration flooding her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the cupboard door. What was wrong with her? Why did she suddenly feel like crying her eyes out?

She needed a change. That was one reason. Desperately and immediately, she needed to alter her lifestyle.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had this thought. But its intensity was new. New and frightening, because if she quit her job at the fire station, what else would she do? She’d worked there for nearly ten years. She didn’t have a university degree, she had not one speck of artistic talent, and anything to do with the world of commerce reduced her to a blithering idiot. She couldn’t even balance her checkbook, for Pete’s sake.

So how could she quit her job?

With her good hand, she reached for the box of tissues on the counter; but as she tugged one free, more rice pellets rattled to the counter. The counter needed wiping. The sink was full of dirty dishes. Her whole life was a mess, Lise thought, blowing her nose and clambering down from the chair. And how she loathed self-pitying women. Maybe she’d make herself a large cherry milk shake and eat six brownies in a row. That might give her the energy to clean up the rice. If not the refrigerator.

Somewhat cheered by the thought of the brownies—she’d made them from a packaged mix, with considerable difficulty, yesterday—Lise pulled the pan out from on top of the bread bin. But as she opened the drawer for a knife, someone knocked on her door.

It was a very decisive knock. Puzzled, she walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

Judd Harwood was standing on the other side of the door.

The last person in the world she wanted visiting her.

She yanked the door open, said furiously, “No, I do not want to see you and how did you get past security?”

“Waited until someone else opened the main door,” he said mildly. “You look god-awful, Lise.”

“Make my day.”

“Looks like someone ought to, and it might as well be me.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.”

But as she tried to push the door shut, he neatly inserted his foot in the gap and pried it further open. She seethed, “Judd, I’ll holler blue murder if you don’t go away.”

He gave her a charming smile, although his eyes, she noticed, were cool and watchful. “I’ve got a favor to ask you,” he said. “It concerns Emmy, not me, and it’s important. Won’t you at least hear me out?”

“Do you always use other people to gain your own ends?”

In a voice like steel, he said, “I happen to be telling the truth. Or is that a commodity you don’t recognize?”

“In you, no.”

“If we’re going to have a no-holds-barred, drag-’em-out fight, let’s at least do it in the privacy of your apartment,” he said, and pushed past her to stand in the hallway.

He was six inches taller than she, and probably seventy pounds heavier. Not to mention his muscles. Lise slammed the door shut and leaned back against it. “So what’s the favor and make it fast.”

He stepped closer. “You’ve been crying.”

Between gritted teeth she said, “The favor, Judd.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything. I can’t go back to work for a whole week, my right arm’s useless and I’m going nuts. Do you know what I did all day yesterday? Watched reruns of Star Wars—for the third time. And what else would you like to know? What are you doing here anyway—slumming?”

“I told you—I have a favor to ask you.”

“I’ve read about you. In Fortune and Time magazine. About all your fancy houses, your cars and planes, your women. The international airlines you own. All of which are euphemisms for power. Power and money. And you expect me to believe that I can be of use to you? Don’t make me laugh.”

In sudden amusement Judd said, “You don’t have red hair for nothing, do you? I didn’t have time for coffee this morning—how about I put on a pot and we sit down like two civilized human beings and have a reasonable conversation.”

“I don’t feel even remotely reasonable when I’m anywhere in your vicinity,” Lise snapped, then instantly wished the words unsaid.

“Don’t you? Now that’s interesting,” Judd said silkily.

She couldn’t back away from him: her shoulder blades were pressed into the door as it was. “Judd, let’s get something straight. I don’t like you. I don’t like what you did to Angeline. So there’s no room for small talk between you and me. Tell me what the favor is, I’ll decide if I want to do it and then you can leave.”

“I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

She tossed her head. “Macho stuff. I get a dose of that at work, I don’t need it at home.”

“Are you ever at a loss for words?”

“I can’t afford to be—I work with men,” she retorted. As, unexpectedly, he began to laugh, his sheer vitality seemed to shrink the hallway; she caught her breath between her teeth, wishing she’d gone out for coffee this morning and was anywhere but here. But Judd would have tracked her down sooner or later: that much she knew. Realizing she was conceding defeat, swearing it would be only temporary, she said grudgingly, “Caffeinated or decaf?”

“Doesn’t matter. Where’s the kitchen?”

She winced. “The living room’s through there. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Got a man hidden behind the stove, Lise?”

The gleam of humor in his slate-gray eyes was irresistible, and suddenly she heard herself laughing. Laughing as if she liked him, she thought in panic. “Behind my stove is not a place any self-respecting man would want to go,” she said, adding, “Watch where you step,” as she led the way into the narrow galley kitchen.

Judd stopped in the doorway. “Well,” he said, looking around. “If Dave cleaned up your apartment the other day, he’s a better firefighter than a Molly Maid.”

“Dave doesn’t live here!”

“Is he your lover?”

“What gives you the right to ask a personal question like that?”

He hesitated perceptibly. “I’m not sure. Are you and Dave lovers?”

Not for anything was she going to expose the relationship between her and Dave to Judd Harwood’s knife-blade gaze. “No comment,” she said stonily.

“I see…in that case, I take my coffee black,” Judd said. “With honey if you have any. Did you throw the rice at the wall?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was trying to put away the groceries, banged my shoulder on the cupboard and dropped the rice. The bag burst. As you see.”

“Rice is a symbol of fertility,” Judd said lightly. “Isn’t that why they throw it at weddings?”

“Did they throw it at yours?”

His lashes flickered. “No. Angeline was into gold-leaf confetti. Nothing as ordinary as rice.” Angeline had never wanted to have a baby; her figure had been more important to her than her husband’s longing for children. Emmy’s conception had been an accident, plain and simple.

For a moment Lise would have sworn there’d been genuine pain underlying Judd’s voice. But the next moment his eyes were guarded, impenetrable as pewter. She’d imagined it. Of course she had. Judd Harwood hurt because of something she’d said? What a joke.

He said casually, “Where do you keep your vacuum cleaner? I’d better get rid of this mess before you slip on it and break your neck.”

He owned the largest and most luxurious airlines in the world; she couldn’t pick up a daily paper and not know that. And he was about to vacuum her kitchen floor? Something so ordinary—to use his own word—had never figured among her romantic fantasies all those years ago. As a teenager, she’d been more apt to picture him maddened by desire, carrying her in his strong arms away from Marthe, from the ugly brick house in Outremont, and the boredom of homework and appointments with the orthodontist.

“The vacuum’s in the hall cupboard,” Lise said edgily. “I’ll wipe all the rice that’s on the counters onto the floor.”

“You do that.”

As he left the room, she stared after him. Her whole nervous system was on high alert; any remnants of self-pity had fled the minute Judd had pushed his way into her apartment. But she could handle him. She wasn’t an impressionable and innocent teenager anymore; she’d been around the block a few times and learned a thing or two. No, she was more than a match for Judd Harwood. Scowling, Lise fished a cloth from among the dishes piled in the sink and started pushing the rice grains onto the floor. Which could do with a darn good scrubbing.

When Judd came back in, he’d shed his leather bomber jacket and was rolling up the sleeves of a blue cotton shirt. His jeans were faded with wear, fitting his hips snugly. Her gaze skewed away. She said rapidly, “I still can’t use my right arm—I feel such a klutz.”

“No permanent damage, though?” he asked; she would have sworn his concern was real.

“Nope. Just a Technicolor shoulder,” she said, and watched his gaze drop.

She was wearing a T-shirt that had shrunk in the drier; it was turquoise with orange hummingbirds flitting across her breasts. The bruise on her jaw was a putrid shade of yellow. How to impress the man of your dreams, Lise thought dryly, and said, “I’ll get out of the way while you vacuum. This kitchen’s never been big enough for two.”

Reaching for the plug, Judd remarked, “Perhaps that’s why you haven’t married?”

Cordially she responded, “Why couldn’t you be faithful to Angeline?”

“I was.”

She snorted. “You’ll have to do under the cupboards…you wouldn’t think one bag of rice could make such a mess.”

“Changing the subject, Lise?”

“You’re quick,” she said with a saucy grin.

“You’re so goddamned beautiful,” he said with sudden violence.

He couldn’t mean it; flattery must be his standard practice when he was anywhere near a woman. Nevertheless, Lise flushed to the roots of her hair. “Me? I’m a mess.”

“Thank you, Judd. That’s considered a more appropriate response.”

“Maybe in the circles you move in. But I don’t want your compliments, Judd. They’re as useless as your wedding vows.”

He straightened to his full height. “While we were married, I was never unfaithful to Angeline.”

“Tell it to someone who cares.”

“I could make you care,” he said softly.

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you daring me, Lise?”

“No, Judd. I’m telling you I’m out-of-bounds as far as you’re concerned. Off-limits. Uninterested.”

“We’ll see,” he said with that same dangerous softness. “You’d better move—this kitchen, as you so rightly remarked, isn’t big enough for the two of us.”

Something in his steady gaze caused her to back up. With as much dignity as she could muster, Lise retreated to the bathroom, where she dragged a brush through her tumbled curls and pulled on a loose sweatshirt over her T-shirt. How to stop feeling sorry for yourself, she thought, poking out her tongue at her reflection. Invite a cougar into your apartment. A starving, highly predatory cougar.

Uneasily she gazed in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes were shining. Stop it, she told herself. He’s not a knight in shining armor come to rescue you. His breastplate’s tarnished and he abused his vows. Just you remember that.

Unfortunately he was still the most vibrantly masculine man she’d ever laid eyes on. That hadn’t changed. Sexy didn’t begin to describe him. It went deeper than that to a confidence that was bone-deep, an unconscious aura of power as much a part of him as his thick black hair and deep-set, changeable eyes.

Why did it have to be his daughter she’d rescued? She didn’t need Judd in her life. He frightened her, she who could force her way through choking smoke and the crackle of flame.

The vacuum cleaner had been turned off. Steeling herself, Lise went back to the kitchen, said politely, “Thank you,” and reached for the coffee beans, which were in the container marked Flour. But she couldn’t unscrew the lid with one hand.

Judd said, “Here, let me,” and took it from her. In utter fascination she watched the play of muscles in his wrist as his lean fingers undid the jar. “Where’s the grinder?” he asked.

This was all so domesticated, she thought wildly. As though they were married. “In the cupboard by the sink. Ignore the muddle.”

As he opened the cupboard, two cookie sheets clattered to the floor. “You live as dangerously at home as you do at work,” Judd said, and fished out the grinder.

She blurted, “What’s the favor, Judd?”

“Coffee first.”

With bad grace Lise hauled out the pot, shoved in a filter and located mugs, cream and sugar. “You sure like getting your own way.”

“It’s how you get to the top—knowing what you want and going after it.”

“Judd Harwood’s Philosophy of Life?”

Standing very close to her, yet not touching her, Judd said, “You’ve got a problem with that?”

“What happens to the people you climb over on the way up?”

“You see me as a real monster, don’t you?” He grabbed the pot, poured water in it and plugged it in. “The favor’s this. Emmy’s having nightmares. About the fire. She wakes up screaming that someone in a mask is coming after her. I thought if she could meet you, it might help.”

Lise said slowly, “I was wearing an oxygen mask, because of the smoke. And our clothes are very bulky. So I must have looked pretty scary.”

“Would you come to the house, Lise?” Judd raked his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s asking a lot—using your spare time for something related to work. I just can’t stand hearing her scream like that in the middle of the night.”

His voice was rough with emotion. And if he was faking that, she was a monkey’s uncle. Knowing she had no choice, knowing simultaneously that she was taking a huge risk, far bigger than when she’d blundered her way to the attic, Lise said, “Yes, I’ll come.”

“You will?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I wondered.”

“I’m not a monster, Judd. When do you want me to come—today?”

“The sooner the better. She gets home from school around three-thirty.”

“Then I’ll arrive at four.”

“That’s astonishingly generous of you.”

His smile filled her with a mixture of feelings she couldn’t possibly have analyzed. She shifted uncomfortably. “No, it’s not. She’s a child, Judd, and I know about—well, never mind.”

“Your parents died in a fire, didn’t they?”

A muscle twitched in her jaw. “I’ve said I’ll come. Don’t push your luck.”

“I’ll send a car for you.”

“I’ll get a cab.”

“Is independence your middle name?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said mockingly, and reached up in the cupboard for a couple of mugs. But at the same time Judd stepped closer. Her hand brushed his arm, the contact shivering through her. Then, with one finger, he traced her cheekbone to her hairline, tugging gently on a loose red curl, his every movement etched into her skin. “You’re an enigma to me, you know that?” he said huskily.

He was near enough that she could see the small dark flecks in his irises; his closeness seemed to penetrate all her defences, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in a way she hated. She tried to pull back, but somehow his other arm was around her waist, warm and heavy against her hip. Her heart was hammering in her rib cage, a staccato rhythm that further disoriented her. He drew her closer, his gaze pinioning her. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run. Resting one hand on his chest, Lise tried to push back; but the heat of his body seeped through his cotton shirt, burning her fingers. Heat, the tautness of muscle and bone, and the hard pounding of his heart…she fought for control, for common sense and caution, and all the while was losing herself in the deep pools of his eyes. Then Judd lowered his head and with a thrill of mingled terror and joy Lise knew he was going to kiss her.

She tried once more to extricate herself, pushing back against his encircling arm. “Judd, don’t,” she gasped. “Please—don’t.”

His answer was to find her mouth with his own, closing off her words with his lips. And at the first touch Lise was lost, for fantasy had fused with reality, and reality was the passionate warmth of a man’s mouth sealed to her own, seeking her response, demanding it. Her good arm slid up his chest, her fingers burying themselves in the silky dark hair at his nape. Her body swayed into his, soft and pliant. She parted her lips to the urgency of his tongue, welcoming its invasion; he pulled her against his chest as his kiss deepened. Raw hunger blossomed within her, hunger such as she’d never known before. It did away with constraint, made nonsense of caution. Blind with need, she dug her fingers into his scalp and felt the hardness of his erection against her belly.

The shock rippled through her. She heard him groan her name in between a storm of brief, fierce kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. As though he were exploring her, she thought dimly, as a mariner would explore the inlets, coves and shores of a newly discovered land. Her breasts were soft to his chest, and the turmoil of desire that pervaded her whole body was like a conflagration. She didn’t want to fight it. She wanted to go with it, follow into whatever dangers the flames might lead her.

Break all the rules. As Dave so often accused her of doing.

Like a dash of cold water, the image of Dave’s pleasant face thrust itself between her and Judd. She’d sometimes wondered if Dave was falling in love with her; certainly he was her best friend, a man she’d worked with and knew through and through, as only those who work in constant danger can know one another. But Judd…Judd was her enemy. What was she thinking of to kiss him this way, so wantonly? So cheaply?

With a whimper of pure distress, Lise shoved hard against Judd’s chest. Like a knife wound, agony ripped its way along her right arm to her shoulder. She cried out with pain, turning her face away from him, involuntary tears filling her eyes.

“Lise—what’s the matter?”

“Let go of me,” she said raggedly. “Just let go!”

“For God’s sake, don’t cry,” he said hoarsely.

“Judd, let me go!”

As he released her, she sagged against the edge of the counter, her breath sobbing in her throat, and said the first thing that came into her head. “You didn’t have to kiss me like that—I’d already agreed to go and see Emmy.”

“You think I kissed you as a kind of insurance policy?” he snarled. “Is that what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to! Because you’re utterly beautiful and you’ve got a temper like a wildcat and you’re courageous and generous. Because I craved to taste your mouth and touch your skin. To tangle my fingers in your hair.”

Lise’s cheeks flared scarlet. Judd was telling the truth, she thought faintly. Every word he’d just said was the simple truth. Or the not so simple truth. “You—you can’t do that,” she stammered. “You’re the man who was married to my cousin. I don’t like you, and we live in totally different environments—we’re worlds apart in every way that matters. Yes, I’ll come and see Emmy this afternoon. But that’s it. No more contact. Ever.”

“Do you respond to Dave the way you just responded to me?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Come clean, Lise.”

“It’s lust, Judd, between you and me—that’s all. Nothing we’re going to act on and how do you think I feel kissing a man I despise? Lousy, that’s how.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know Angeline.”

“Impasse,” Judd said softly.

“So why don’t we skip the coffee?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m sure not in the mood for small talk.”

“What happened between you and me just then is rarer than you might—”

“Ask the expert,” she said nastily.

“Don’t, Lise,” he said in a raw voice. “We don’t need to trade cheap shots. Both of us deserve better than that.”

“In your opinion.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re not going to listen to reason, are you? Your mind’s made up that I’m the villain of the piece and Angeline—” he gave a harsh laugh “—why, Angeline’s the blond-haired angel. Grow up, Lise. No marriage breaks up with all the fault on one side. Especially when a child’s involved.”

“Why wouldn’t you give Angeline custody?” Lise demanded. “And don’t tell me it’s because she didn’t want it.”

“What else am I supposed to tell you? It happens to be true.”

She gave an impatient sigh. “And why were you away when the fire started? It was a business trip, wasn’t it?”

For once she’d knocked Judd off balance. He stared at her blankly. “You could say so.”

She pounced. “You were away with a woman, weren’t you? Why else would you be hedging?”

“I was not!”

“You know what I hate about this?” Lise flared. “You’re lying to me, Judd. About Angeline. About the women in your life. And yet you expect me to fall into your arms as though none of that matters.” Gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles were white, she said, “I wish you’d go. I’ve had enough of this. More than enough.”

“It’s not over, Lise,” he said with menacing quietness. “Don’t kid yourself on that score.”

“There’s nothing to be over—because there’s nothing between us!”

“You’re dead wrong. I’ll see myself out.”

He pivoted and a moment later the door closed behind him. Lise stood very still. Her knees were trembling as though she’d been running uphill for half an hour; her heartbeat sounded very loud in the sudden silence. One kiss, she thought numbly. How could one kiss turn her life upside down?

When Dave kissed her, she never felt anything remotely like the fierce hunger that had enveloped her just now and that had made nonsense of all her rules. Dave’s kisses were as pleasant as the man himself. Which might be one reason why she and Dave had never gone to bed together.