Except maybe a lover who'd make love to her.
Pulling onto her street around seven o'clock that evening, Susan frowned. There was an old and completely unfamiliar car parked in her drive. She wasn't expecting anyone. The visitor had to be Michael's.
What a night for him to have company.
“Okay, you two, we'll just have to keep our news to ourselves. Probably for the best, anyway,” she said aloud, parking out in the street in front of the condo. Michael couldn't even come to terms with generic babies, let alone the pair who'd just taken on form and personality. “Just see that you play nice, tonight, kids.”
Someone kicked in response as she got out of the car, and Susan laughed.
One of each. She couldn't believe how lucky she was. A son
and
a daughter. Boy clothes and girl clothes. Brownies and Cub Scouts. Makeup and fast cars. She'd have it all.
Or so she told herself.
“I'll just be going then,” a construction worker, minus his hard hat and tool belt, was leaving as Susan approached the front door.
“Thanks for bringing him by,” she heard Michael say from the shadows of the foyer.
“No problem,” he called. And then, “Ma'am,” as he strode past Susan.
“What'sâ”
With a finger to his lips, Michael nodded toward the living room just as they both heard a resounding crash.
And a very loud curse.
“Seth?” Running into the living room, she saw her brother picking himself up from the floor, clutching pieces of a broken lamp.
“Sorry, sis,” he slurred. “It moved.”
“Seth Carmichael, sit down before you break anything else,” she commanded, worried sick about her brother. If he kept this drinking up, he was going to find himself in jail.
“I've got coffee started,” Michael said, helping Seth onto the couch. “I'll go get him a cup.”
“Pud a liddle whiskey in it, would ya.” Seth's attempt to point landed in his lap with a thud.
“Forget it, buddy.” Susan wasn't even a little bit sympathetic.
“Ah, Sus, lighten up.”
“Not till you sober up, Seth, and then we're going to talk.”
Two cups of coffee later, Seth was a little more manageable, but not much. It was all she and Michael could do to keep him in her living roomâhe was hell-bent on leaving for someplace that served liquorâwhile trying to preserve Susan's belongings in the process. There'd been another casualty after the lamp. A ceramic vase she'd bought in Mexico.
“C'mon, Seth, old man,” Michael said after he'd vacuumed up the shattered pieces of the vase. “It's cold-shower time.”
“I'on't need a shower.”
“Yes.” Michael was gritting his teeth as he heaved Seth off the couch, shouldering the majority of the younger man's weight. “You do.”
Pulling clumsily out of Michael's grasp, Seth sniffed in the general vicinity of his underarms. “I stink?”
“You're drunk, man.”
“I know.” Seth smiled happily. “Ain't it great?”
Frightened by the implications of Seth's emotional state, Susan got out a clean towel and collected a pair of Michael's pants. Keeping her eyes averted, she delivered them to the guest bathroom.
“I'll make a fresh pot of coffee,” she said and left the two men to their task.
She owed Michael big-time for this one.
“I got no undies on,” Seth announced, entering the kitchen twenty minutes later. His speech was still slurred, but at least he was walking on his own. More or less.
“Sorry, brother, I don't share Skivvies.” Michael
came up behind him. He was still wearing the twill shorts and polo shirt he'd had on earlier. They were drenched.
Guiding Seth to a chair, he turned to Susan. “I'm going to change.” And then to Seth. “Your sister's in no state to be chasing after you,” he said sternly. “You stay put until I get back, got it?”
“Yessir.” Seth grinned. “Got it.”
It had been so long since she'd seen that grin on her usually fun-loving, easygoing brother. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. She wondered if she'd ever see it again without its being alcohol-induced.
The more Seth sobered up, the more depressed he became. By ten o'clock that night, the three of them were seated around the kitchen table, not a smiling face in the bunch.
“I've looked everywhere I can think of, and there's nothing,” Seth was saying, staring into yet another cup of coffee. “No decent jobs around here at all.”
In spite of her confidences the day he'd taken her out to the ghettolike home of his ex-girlfriend, Seth was still talking about finding a new job, one that didn't require as much travel. Sharing a silent communication with Michael, Susan remained silent.
“Sure,” he continued, not looking up. “I can get work, had lots of offers, but nothing that pays enough to support myself properly, let alone anyone else.”
Susan wanted to help him. To tell him that no woman was worth doing this to himself. That there was nothing wrong with his job, with him. That other engineers got married.
Michael reached for her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze. Holding on.
“Funny thing is,” Seth said with a humorless laugh, “I'm not like you, Michael.” He stared up at Michael. “My job isn't my identification. It's not everything to me.”
Jaw tight, Michael noddedâand let go of her hand. Susan's gaze darted from one to the other. Seth saw Michael's job as
his identification?
Like he had some kind of emotionalânot logicalâdependence on it? Was that true? And if it was, why hadn't she seen it?
“I like what I do,” Seth went on. “Hell, I love what I do. I'm damn good at it.”
“The best.” Susan finally had to say something.
“I don't know about that.” Seth sent her a slanted glance. “But the bottom line is, it's all I'm trained for. It's all I can do if I'm to make a decent living.”
Relieved that Seth was finally coming to his senses, Susan relaxed in her chair. “There's nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “There is.”
Michael was frowning. “Why?” he challenged.
“Because unlike you, old buddy, I want a family.”
“Uncle Bill, on
Family Affair,
was an engineer,” Susan quickly pointed out. “And he raised three kids.”
“He had Mr. French,” Seth argued.
“But he didn't have a wifeâor motherâfor the kids,” Michael said, joining in.
“And those kids couldn't have asked for a better life,” Susan said. “Buffy and Jody were happy, well-adjusted children. And why? Because they always knew they were loved.”
As if realizing as much himself, Michael nodded. “Cissy, too,” he added. “Sure, there were times when they missed Bill, but they did fine.”
“Just think how excited they got whenever Uncle Bill was home. Think of the quality time he spent with them.”
Seth listened, his face lighting with a trace of hope. But only briefly. Shoulders slumped, he finished his coffee and stood up. “You two are really sick, you know that?” he said. “You're talking about a thirty-year-old television show like it really happened. This is real life. Now will one of you please take me home?”
“Not yet,” Susan said firmly as both men started to stand.
Staring at her, they both settled back in their chairs. “Yes, this is real life Seth, and in real life, there are a lot of kids who have no father at all. And there are thousands of kids right here in this city whose fathers live in the same house with them, are home every night, and are still strangers to them.”
“So?” Seth's question wasn't quite belligerent, but Susan had a feeling he'd wanted it to be.
“I guess what she's saying, man, is that a good weekend dad is a hell of a lot better than no dad at all.”
“What I'm saying,” Susan said, taking in both men with her lawyer stare, “is that any kid who has a good dadâeven one he sees only once or twice a yearâis a damn lucky kid. Just knowing the man's out there to lean on, to call, to go to for help, even if that help comes over thousands of miles of phone wire, gives the kid an edge.”
Susan's heart sank when she saw the indulgent look shared by two of the most infuriating men in her life. “Of course, this comes from the woman who thinks that caring for two children will be just as easy as caring for one,” Michael said.
“The same woman who's planning to continue her career as always, in spite of midnight feedings, colicky babies and mornings with messy crib sheets, diapers and babies.”
Tuning out Seth
and
Michael, she felt sorry for both of them. They were just too stubborn to realize they really could have it all.
Â
SUSAN WAS already in bed by the time Michael returned from Seth's. Strangely depressed himself after the evening with his ex-brother-in-law, he undressed quickly and slid in beside her. Instantly hard, just from her warmth, he moved a little closer. She was asleep. She'd never know if he stole a little comfort.
Slipping his arm carefully around her belly, he settled himself on his side behind her and closed his eyes. There were many forms of torture. And many forms of heaven. He figured he'd found one of each.
The first time it happened, he was drifting in a state of semiconsciousness, floating in and out of a dream.
By the second kick, he was fully awake, waiting.
Heart beating rapidly, he lay completely still, resisting the urge to cup his hand around that movement. To claim it.
There was a baby in there. Alive. Real.
Another kick came, but this blow landed on his forearm. Either the sucker was a fast mover or...
There were two babies in there. Two lives he'd
helped create. Amazingly, he didn't feel any immediate sense of foreboding, any of the familiar chains closing around his throat. They'd follow. He knew that. But for now...
Exhausted beyond the ability to analyze, Michael moved a little closer. Flattening his hand softly against Susan's stomach, careful not to disturb her, he gave in to the need to connect with his children.
And then, oddly comforted, he slept.
Â
MICHAEL WAS GONE when Susan awoke the next morning. If not for the indentation of his head on the pillow beside hers, the rumpled covers, she'd never have known he was there.
She'd dreamed of him all night long.
To the point of frustration. She was horny as hell.
Based on the way things were going, she was almost relieved when he called her at work later that morning to tell her he'd be gone for a couple of days. He had to make a quick trip to Atlanta.
She needed a break from the tension. A little time to herself to distinguish between her needs and her wants. To be honest with herself.
A little time to determine whether or not she could let Michael come back.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A
S IT TURNED OUT, she didn't have a chance to make that decision. Michael was in her study, deeply involved in a telephone conversation when she arrived home from work on Thursday. She'd been playing phone tag with him all week and, as a result, hadn't spoken to him since he left.
She wasn't sure if that was deliberate or not. Her fault or his.
She just knew she'd never been happier to see him there.
Embarrassed by the relieved tears that sprang to her eyes, she gave him a quick wave and hurried in to change her clothes. Or rather, to get herself under control. Changing her clothes was an afterthought.
“New dress?” Michael asked, following her into the bedroom a few minutes later.
“Uh-huh, bought it yesterday.” She turned and modeled it for him. “You like it?”
A light cotton, tank-style sundress, Susan had found it so comfortable she'd actually picked out seven of them. In varying shades. Tonight she'd chosen the dark-gold one because of the way it brought out the highlights in her hair. “I do like it,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I like you, too.”
She saw his lips descending, her heart quickening
so fast it stole her breath. Too needy to think, she welcomed him, kissing him back as desperately as he was kissing her.
He was touching her again.
He felt so good, she trembled.
“It's been one hell of a long three weeks,” he grumbled against her lips. And then he consumed them again. Consumed all her senses. The light musky scent of his aftershave, the salty taste of his lips, his voice deep and low moaning his desire, the coarse touch of his thick dark hair sliding through her fingers, the sight of him, there, with her.
The long fast had ended. And her celebration was too intense to deny him anything he asked of her.
His hands worked their familiar magic as he quickly stripped her of the dress she'd just donned. A moment later, he'd added her bra and underwear to the pile on the floor.
“You've blossomed,” he said, splaying his hands across her breasts, cupping them.
“Mmm-hmm,” Susan murmured, inanely proud of herself.
“I've missed you.” Lowering his head, he took her lips again, holding the contact as he urged her back on the bed.
His suit and other things soon landed on the floor with hers and then he was inside her, his hands everywhere, his body her only reality as he brought her to one of the fastest climaxes of her life.
“Guess being pregnant has its side effects,” she gasped, out of breath and slightly embarrassed by her unusual haste.
Stilling inside her for a moment while her tremors
subsided, Michael grinned. “Care to do research on that theory?”
“Anytime.” She was promising him everything. Anything he wanted. As much as he wanted. Knowing that, in the end, he might want nothing at all.
And then she was floating again, caught up in the power of his loving as he accompanied her toward an incredible climax, her name on his lips.
Â
HE LAY BESIDE HER afterward, belly to belly, just as he'd loved her, until one of the babies gave a kick so mighty it made her grunt.
“Whoa, there, little fella,” she murmured without thinking. She'd been having complete conversations with the kids ever since she'd found out their sexes.
“So you know they're boys?” He hadn't moved an inch, but Susan could feel Michael's distance as physically as though he'd gotten up and left the room.
Shivering, she pulled the bedspread up.
“One of them is,” she said softly, tucking the spread around her belly.
Michael's gaze flew to hers, serious, searching. “There's one of each?”
Susan nodded, biting her lip.
He turned over, lying flat on his back, eyes wide-open as he stared at the ceiling.
In spite of herself, Susan was a little distracted by the gorgeous perfection of his body. And his unself-consciousness where his own nakedness was concerned.
At least with him to concentrate on, she didn't have to focus on what might really be happening.
“I suppose one of each is best.” He broke into her thoughts, his chin firm as he made the assertion.
Stunned at his calmness, she rose on one elbow and stared at him.
“I would imagine raising a girl is vastly different from raising a boy. So even if this is your only pregnancy, you still get a chance to do both.” He turned and looked at her.
Afraid to move, to disrupt the tender mood between them, Susan tried to read him. Tried not to be disappointed when she couldn't.
“That's what I thought,” she said instead.
“Might make things a little more difficult as far as some of the practicalities are concerned.” He was staring at the ceiling again.
“How so?”
“Well, they won't be able to share clothes for one thing.”
“But I get to buy both now, little dresses
and
little suit.”
Michael was off the bed so fast, Susan's head was spinning. He grabbed a pair of denim shorts out of the drawer she'd emptied for him when he'd first come to stay, then pulled them on.
“I'm hungry,” he announced abruptly as he chose a shirt from the closet. “Italian sound okay to you?”
“Sure.” These days, any food sounded okay to her. She got up more slowly, untangled her clothes from the pile on the floor.
“I'll run and get some take-out,” he said, tying his tennis shoes with a flourish. “Be right back.”
And he was gone. She'd barely stepped into her underwear.
MICHAEL WORKED most of Saturday, partially because he wasn't getting a good feeling about the Miller deal. There was no indication of anything going sour. Exactly the opposite. But
something
bothered him....
He'd also kept himself busy because he'd known Susan would be home. And spending the day together, like any normal couple, didn't seem wise.
Yet, when he finished late in the afternoon, he was inordinately disappointed to go looking for her and find her gone. And then relieved when he saw the note on the kitchen table.
She was at the complex pool. He was welcome to join her there if he wanted to.
He didn't know if he wanted to or not, but ten minutes later, dressed in black boxer trunks and carrying glasses of iced peppermint tea, he joined her.
“I thought you might be thirsty,” he said, settling down on the lounge chair next to her. She was wearing a black, flowing maternity suit that looked sexier than the bikini he'd seen her in the year before.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him as she took a glass of the tea and sipped greedily. He wished her eyes weren't hidden by the dark lenses of her sunglasses.
“You been in?” he asked, pointing toward the pool.
“A couple of times. The water's nice.”
If he got any hotter, he was going to have to go in, too. Or give himself away. He'd loved Susan again the night before, but frequency didn't seem to have any more quelling effect on his libido than abstinence did. He watched a couple of kids playing water tag at the other end of the pool.
“How'd the work go?”
“Hmm?” He glanced over at her again. “Oh. Fine.”
“This deal's certainly taking longer than you originally figured. Is the family hesitant?”
“Not really.” Michael took a sip of his tea. The combination of icy liquid and hot sun was pleasant. “They've made the decision to sign whenever I tell them to.”
“So what's holding you up?”
“Nothing particularly valid, I'm afraid.”
Sipping her tea, Susan frowned. “That doesn't sound like you.”
He looked away. “Miller Insulation isn't just a way for this family to support themselves. I'm paying them millions, and the money isn't that important to them.”
“Surely they were excited by making that kind of money so quickly.”
“At first, of course.” He met her gaze, searching for understanding, for confirmation of something he was only beginning to understand himself. “But it doesn't seem to hold much allure anymore. The company seems to represent some kind of bond for them, probably because they all sacrificed together to start it. Now it's something that holds them together.”
“Kind of like Halliday Headgear, a family venture. Or like Halliday's will be when Tricia's sons are grown.”
“Maybe.” Probably. “Could you ever have pictured Ed Halliday being happy doing anything other than running Halliday's?”
“Of course not,” Susan said without hesitation.
“He loved every minute he spent there. Leaving would have killed him before the heart attack did.”
Michael nodded, his chest heavy. “Miller Insulation gives that family reason to get up in the morning. Running the company fulfills them. When I buy them out, I take away one of their major reasons for living.”
He hated sounding melodramatic, but he was afraid there was complete truth in what he was saying.
“Have they given you any indication that they want to back out of the deal?”
“None.” Michael shook his head. “That's the damnedest part. They're going to go through with this as soon as I give the word.”
“How does that make you feel?”
No one but Susan could get away with asking him a question like that. No one but Susan would get an answer.
“Like a damn criminal.”
He glanced over at her, not at all surprised to see her nodding. “So what are you going to do about that?” she asked.
“I don't know, smarty-pants,” he mocked her. Then, just in case, he asked, “Do you?”
Shaking her head, she shrugged, sent him an impudent grin. “I'm sure you'll figure it out, whatever it is.”
Michael set down his glass. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, rising. “I think.” With that, he dove headfirst into the pool.
Â
HE MADE LOVE to her every night that next week. Driven by something he didn't understand, or maybe
something he
did
understand and wasn't ready to acknowledge, he loved her with an urgency he'd never known before. Not even when their divorce had become inevitable, the final court date imminent, had he been filled with such a sense of energized desperation.
One way or another, his time at Miller Insulation was coming to a close. His time in Cincinnati was coming to an end. And, as that day drew near, he found he didn't have any plans not to go. He wanted to tell Susan that he'd stay, that he'd be the perfect father to her children. But he couldn't. He just didn't have any confidence in his ability to do so. He was afraid he'd suffocate within a week of the declaration. And he couldn't lie to her.
One of the babies moved again on Wednesday night, just after Michael and Susan had made love. It wasn't a kick this time, but a heel or something sliding across her entire belly, sticking out as it went. They both watched its progress.
“Can you feel that?” Michael whispered, as though he'd disturb the children if he spoke any louder.
“Of course,” she laughed. “You try being rubbed from the inside out.”
Michael couldn't imagine the feeling, but he knew what it felt like to carry a lead weight around in his chest. A weight that was getting heavier by the hour.
He'd never experienced a stronger need to get up and go, to run as far and as fast as he could. Or to stay.
“Have you decided what to name them?” he asked instead, studying the mound of her stomach.
Susan frowned. “I change my mind at least twice a day. There are so many names I like.”
That sounded like Susan. If she could get away with it, she'd pin a minimum of six names on each kid.
“Remember to pay attention to initials,” he told her, rolling over to lie on his back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. “Kids can be awfully cruel when they tease, and names and initials always seem to be a target.”
“So I can't name her Katy Kathleen 'cause she'd be KKK, huh?”
Katy Kathleen
Kennedy. His
name. That he'd given to Susan and she'd kept after the divorce.
“Right,” he said, jumping up as if self-propelled, shrugging into his robe. “Want a snack?”
“I'm not hungry,” Susan surprised him by saying. She was always hungry these days.
He shouldn't have been surprised, though. He wasn't hungry, either.