It Started with a House... (19 page)

“Exactly. It's like seeing the sun every day, and then there's a terrible storm. When the sun comes out again, you feel as though it's never looked more glorious.”

Once Marshall parked in the garage and shut down the purring sedan, he exited and met her on the passenger side. “Want me to carry you inside?”

“Oh, you don't have to prove you're romantic, Mr. Roark.” Genevieve leaned her head against his shoulder. “On any day, you show me countless times and ways. I hope Raenne finds this kind of happiness. I hope they all do.”

“Ina seems to be on her way.” Unlocking the door, Marshall took her hand and led her inside. “But enough about your flock of single ewes. I want to find out if making love with my wife is different than making love to my lover.”

Genevieve had started laughing at his description of her friends, but when he voiced his intent, she stopped. Her eyes took on an invitation and promise that kicked his pulse up a notch.

“What would my husband like?” she asked, walking backward as she drew him through the house toward the master suite. “Joint massages with the warmed lotion you like so much, or a long soak in the Jacuzzi tub…?”

Marshall remembered their last adventure in massages and the images in his mind went straight to his groin. Then again, the thought of her lovely and glistening while being caressed by bubbles as well as himself was equally appealing. “We haven't broken in that tub yet, have we?”

When the water was the right depth, the temperature warmed to perfection, and the candles were lit, they helped each other undress and settled in. Marshall loved that she wasn't shy about being nude in front of him. He and Genevieve had been in tune with each other from that first time.

“What's putting that interesting smile on your face?” Genevieve asked from the other end of the tub.

“You.” She looked exactly as he'd fantasized she would in here when he would walk through the house in those early days alone and yearning for her. She'd scooped up her hair with one of those long clip things that gave her that sexy dishabille look, her skin glowed from the warmth and humidity, as her eyes did with anticipation. Her cheeks were the color of her nipples tempting him as the frothing water gave him teasing glimpses. “Is this more comfortable for you than the shower?”

“There's a little more room.” Her lips curved as she
tickled the inside of his thighs with her toes. “Our positions in here might be more compatible with being pregnant, but I've enjoyed our shower. Very much.”

“Speaking of positions, what are you doing way over there? Come over here and talk to me.”

Laughing softly, she rose on her knees and did as he'd invited, settling onto his lap. “Talk? Is that all you want me to do?”

With her breasts now above the moving water, Marshall took his time admiring and caressing her. He loved how she moved into his touch, then arched to give him more access. But under the water, her hands were busy, too, and that wreaked havoc on his concentration, let alone his intention to prolong this love play.

Suddenly he sucked in a short, sharp breath. “Do that again.”

“Did I do something?” she asked, all innocence.

“Where has this mischievous streak been hiding?”

She abandoned his hard shaft to caress his chest and nip gently on his nipples. “As in
The Night Before Christmas,
it was tucked away for ‘a long winter's nap.' I can behave,” she whispered, rubbing her breasts against him and licking at the moisture on his neck and chin. “I wouldn't want you to regret marrying me.”

“What I already regret is that I won't have a hundred years of this—and you.” Taking hold of her hips, he urged her up. “Take me inside. Now.”

She did and he closed his eyes in the poignant pleasure. Then when she tightened her inner muscles, it was all he could do not to lose control. “Stop, you delectable minx or you're not going to get much out of this ride.”

“I'm patient, and we have all night.”

When she tightened around him again, he wrapped his arms around her and held her fiercely against him until their hearts beat as one. “I love you so damned much.”

Genevieve framed his face with her hands and kissed him softly. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“God, how could I? You're my reason for bothering to breathe.”

Taking hold of his hand, she brought it over the gentle swell of her abdomen. “You mean we are.”

“Baby, baby,” he crooned. Smiling, Marshall slid his hand downward to where they were joined, and caressed her with his thumb. “Let's ride, Mrs. Roark.”

With a whimper of desire, Genevieve sought a deeper kiss and they raced to ecstasy together.

The following May…

“H
ow about a massage?”

Genevieve didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “That cinches it, Mr. Roark. You break that rule that no one is irreplaceable. Here I look as though I swallowed the Dallas Cowboy stadium, I feel as though the entire team is practicing under this dome,” she continued, stroking her very protruding belly, “and you're sweetly trying to make me feel sexy.”

“Well, I hate to burst your pouty party bubble, my love, but you are. If Dr. Nyland hadn't told you that we need to behave for these last days, I'd already have you out of your clothes.”

She'd just made it home from the office after showing a client who could not choose between the six houses
Genevieve had taken her to. The only reason she was back yet was due to Marshall watching the weather on TV. A spring storm was gearing up along a front about to move through the region. He'd called and urged her to call it a day and get home to safety.

He took her into his arms and stroked her back. “Thank you for coming home and not riding this system out at the office. I would have made myself sick with worry. Correction, I'd probably have wrecked the car or tried to get out of another speeding ticket from Phil Irvine racing to ride it out with you there.”

“You can thank my swollen ankles and screaming back. I just couldn't take any more.”

“Poor sweetheart. You've barely gained enough weight for this little guy.” As the first flash of lightning and crack of thunder alerted them that things were about to get noisier and rougher on this second day of May, Marshall added, “Well, there goes my suggestion that we draw you a warm bath so you could unwind. It's too dangerous now.”

“I'll settle for curling up under a throw. I'm so tired I'll bet I could nap through the noise.”

“That would please me to no end. Go make yourself comfortable. But if you don't mind, come lie on the couch. If the tornado sirens go off, I want you close to the closet behind that big brick fireplace wall.”

“They better not tease us with those noisy things,” she said, easing out of her shoes and carrying them to their bedroom. “Once I lie down, it'll take a crane to move me.”

Before Genevieve was fully changed into a pair of soft blue sweats, the lightning was almost constant and
the thunder was shaking some of the windows. She was about to return to the living room when a particularly bright flash and crack—soon followed by a long booming sound—had her ducking. Only seconds later a sudden cramp had her bending in half, quite taking her breath away.

Oh, no.

She knew she had been feeling a bit achy and uncomfortable all day, but she figured it was the humid weather and the strains her client had put upon her out-of-shape body. But now she was increasingly unsure.

Before the next cramp started, she was crumpled on the throw rug beside the bed. When the worst of it passed, she tried to call Marshall's name, but the sirens sounded.

“That's it, Genevieve,” he called from the other side of the house. “Let's get you settled.”

She was as settled as she was going to get, she told him mentally. She withstood the last cramp and screamed, “Marshall!”

He came running and when he saw her, he swore. “What happened? Did you fall?”

“Hurt. Labor pains. I think I've been having them for a while, but I thought it was my icky lunch. Oh, God. My water just broke. We have to get to the hospital.”

“Sweetheart, we can't,” Marshall replied, reaching for her. “The weather radio says we're within five miles of a twister. We can't risk driving in those conditions.” He kneeled beside her and kissed her reassuringly. “It'll be all right. We'll get this done.”

Just then the lights went out.

After another gasp, Genevieve laughed at the irony
of things. “Sure,” she said to the ceiling. “Make this easier.”

Stroking her back, Marshall said, “It's not that dark. Our eyes just need to adjust. I'd open the drapes, but if it gets so bad there's flying debris, those heavy drapes might help protect us. Stay put. I'm going for candles, flashlights, a vinyl tablecloth—”

“Okay, but please hurry.” It seemed a small eternity before he returned. By then she was finishing another cramp. Once he had the candles lit and the tablecloth situated beneath her, he called Dr. Nyland on his BlackBerry.

“Tell her this is Marshall Roark and my wife's water burst,” he said to whoever had answered and didn't want to patch him through. While waiting, he kissed Genevieve on her damp forehead. “How are you doing, babe?”

“I'm not scared if that's what you're wondering. I know you won't panic.”

“We have it under control. No need to panic. Nah, I won't panic.” Another flash and instant, earsplitting blast of thunder had Marshall burying a shuddering Genevieve against his chest. “Jeez. There went the boathouse, I suspect.”

“Or the roof. I hope Mother is keeping an eye out her window and checking for smoke here. I know the roof is fireproof, but what about—?”

Marshall held up his hand and said, “Yes, Doctor. That's right. How close? Damned fast considering all you suggested we read. She says she was probably having mild contractions all day. But this is her first baby, and you think that means a longer labor, right?” He made a
face. “Yes, it being an honor aside, she'd prefer you deliver our child.” He sighed. “Yes, Doctor, if we survive this tornado that's in the area, I'll put on my big-boy pants.”

Genevieve choked and he winked at her.

“Here's Genevieve. Reassure her while I go get what else that I need.”

Once he was out of earshot, Genevieve said, “Tracy, I can't believe you said that to him.”

“Oh, he has a good sense of humor,” Dr. Nyland replied. “It just doesn't stretch too far where you're concerned. You have a good man there.”

“I know it. So now tell me again what to be prepared for. Wait—another contraction is starting.”

By the time Marshall returned, the wind had picked up to gale force. Genevieve was doing the natural childbirth breathing with Dr. Nyland. Outside, something banged against the house.

“I don't care if that's another woman in labor trying to get inside,” Marshall muttered. “We're booked solid.”

Genevieve managed a pained smile. “Cute. Can you help me out of these sweats? Get my short terry robe from my closet. I'm going to have to nurse after you clear the baby's nose and mouth passages.”

He hurried to the closet and did what she asked, then assisted her into changing into it. Helping her ease onto her side for a moment, he slipped on the new gloves he'd taken from a sealed bag. After that he kissed the inside of Genevieve's knee and checked to see if the baby's head was showing yet. “Oh, my God—he's got my hair!”

“Did you hear that, Tracy? Little Robert—
oh!
—has Marshall's hair—
oh!
I have to push.”

And then it was happening. Genevieve thrust the BlackBerry at Marshall and rose up on her elbows.

“Push!” he rasped, his gaze zipping from hers to the tiny, dark head emerging from her.

Exhausted, Genevieve slumped back onto the pile of towels he'd placed for her to use instead of pillows.

“Catch your breath, my love. You're doing beautifully. I'm getting his mouth and nose clear. Are you listening, Doc? He's moved to his side naturally just as you said he would.”

“Marshall, I need to push again,” Genevieve groaned.

“Go ahead, darling. I have his head in my palm. Only when you're ready.”

Genevieve was ready. Oh, she wanted this done and to hold her baby. She pushed hard and one little shoulder emerged.

“Don't pull,” she warned him breathlessly.

“I remember, but I so want to. It's killing me to see you suffering.”

“Hush. I have to push.” And she did.

The rest of the baby emerged wet and slick like a little seal landing on a beach.

Marshall made sure his face was clear and grinned wide when the little one uttered a lusty cry. “You want your mommy. I understand completely.”

He tenderly set the child onto Genevieve's chest. “Our son,” he said, leaning over to kiss her gently. “Thank you, my heart.”

“Oh, he's perfect,” she whispered.

Marshall tied the shoelace he'd found in his closet between four and six inches down the umbilical cord above
the baby's belly button. Then he helped Genevieve coax their son to her breast. Only then did he grab a washcloth and pick up the BlackBerry. “Hear that, Doc? Just waiting on the placenta. She's starting the contractions now. Is she amazing or what?”

Once the placenta was discharged and Marshall had tied it off, too, Genevieve reminded him to finish his job. “Cut the cord now.” She'd been adamant on that even if they had given birth in the hospital. She'd loved the tales about the child having a special affinity with whoever did that.

When that was done, Marshall fell back against the bed and stared at his family with awe.

“You're crying,” Genevieve said, reaching to brush his cheek. She had never loved him more.

New sirens sounded, bringing in the outside world. The all-safe signal. Dr. Nyland disconnected soon afterward, having informed them that the EMTs would be there at any moment and she would see them at the hospital.

The house phone started ringing before Marshall could get up to pull the drapes open and go unlock the front door. He looked at the display and said, “It's your mother.”

“Hand me the receiver,” Genevieve said. Once he did, she clicked the green phone and said, “Hi, Grandma…Yes, during the storm.” There was a loud scream on the other end that had Genevieve moving the phone to arm's length. “You and Bart better get here quick before the EMTs take me away,” she told her.

There was laughter and tears as the growing family looked on in wonder at their little miracle. The ambulance
soon arrived and Marshall walked beside his wife and son as they wheeled her outside. The sky was clearer than ever, the sun was glorious, just as Genevieve had described to Marshall on their wedding night—but there was also a rainbow brilliant in the southeast.

“How are we ever going to tell him this story?” Marshall said as they reached the truck. He bent quickly to kiss her for the short time apart, while he followed in his car.

With one arm wrapped protectively around their son, Genevieve reached up with the other and stroked his cheek. “We'll tell him the truth—it started with a house.”