Sandra Steffen – Marriage by Contract (страница 9)

Either she didn’t hear the double entendre in his voice, or she chose to ignore it. Extending her hand in a sweeping gesture toward the living room, she said, “Would you like to wait in here?”

Tony Petrocelli enjoyed a lot of things but cooling his heels in the living room wasn’t one of them. Instead, he followed Beth into the next room. While she filled a copper teakettle with tap water, he leaned against the counter in her small kitchen, quietly watching.

“Did Carmelina say something to upset you, Beth?”

The mugs in her hands clanked together as she swung around to face him. Turning back much more slowly, she shook her head.

“Then, what was it you wanted to talk about?” He was vaguely aware that she’d pulled her lower lip between her teeth, but before he could make more than a sweeping assumption that she was nervous about something, he caught a whiff of her perfume, and all but the haziest of impressions were lost on him.

“If you could have anything,” she said quietly, “anything you wished for, what would it be?”

Staring at the smooth skin below her cheekbone and the fine line of her profile, he drew a blank.

She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t tell me you have everything you want, Tony. There must be something you’d like. And I don’t mean peace on earth and no more hungry children. I mean what do you want for yourself and nobody else.”

In that instant, he only wanted one thing. Her. In bed, under him, all over him. He wanted her. Since he doubted that was what she’d meant, he said, “I’ll have to think about it and let you know. What about you, Beth? What do you want?”

Her answer was as direct as her gaze. “That’s easy. I want Christopher.”

He turned slightly, the movement bringing his chest within a few inches of her shoulder. “Then, you’re going to get your wish. Christopher will be leaving the hospital in a week or two. And he’ll be coming home with us. Isn’t there anything else you want?”

She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide open and brimming with tenderness and emotion. The Sicilians had a word for what was happening to him. Translated, it meant thunderstruck. Only a person who’d felt it would truly understand the enormity of the sensation.

The teakettle whistled, startling them both and saving her from having to answer. She turned off the burner with one hand, reaching for the kettle with the other. Pouring the steaming water into a small, round teapot, she cleared her throat and finally said, “Your family seemed very taken with Christopher.”

She’d said something similar before, but he answered her, anyway. “They love kids. Always have.”

“I’ve heard more than one of them comment on their excitement over the prospect of meeting future Petrocellis.”

Without a clue as to where the conversation was headed, he crossed his ankles and settled himself more comfortably along the edge of the counter. “I come from what very well could be the last completely functional family in the United States. Oh, we had our normal fights and tussles growing up—Gina had a screech that could make your ears ring for two days, and Andreanna could pinch hard enough to draw blood—I tell everybody that I became a doctor out of self-defense. But when push comes to shove, we’re always here for one another. We’re working-class people, and we’re proud of it. My sisters gave up a lot to help me through medical school, but no one gave up more than my mother and father. All they’ve ever wanted or expected in return is that I carry on the family name.”

Beth watched the tea seep into the clear, steaming water, her tension seeping out of her in a similar fashion. There, she told herself. See? There’s nothing to worry about. By adopting Christopher, Tony will be doing as his family wishes. In his new son, the Petrocelli name will continue.

His shirt rustled as he uncrossed his arms, his voice dropping in volume as he said, “Oh, and of course they want me to pass on the family genes.”

She felt as if a hand were closing around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. They both jumped again when his phone rang, but Beth was secretly thankful for the momentary reprieve. While he went to answer, she tried to draw a deep breath.

“I have to go,” he said, a few minutes later.

“Another mother in labor?” she asked.

He started to nod, then seemed to change his mind, drawing his eyebrows down, instead. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She nodded, but she wasn’t sure about anything, except that all the pleasure of the past few days had drained out of her.

* * *

Beth had thought her shift would never end, but it was over now, and she was on her way to the nursery. She could hear the babies crying all the way down the hall. She’d certainly spent enough time in the nursery these past two-and-a-half months to know exactly how it happened. It only took one baby’s tiny wail to set off another, and another, until there was a chorus of healthy cries and flailing fists, and one or two frantic nurses trying to calm them all.

Glancing in the window on her way by, she smiled in spite of herself. There was just something in a newborn’s cry that warmed her heart every time she heard it. She strode to the next window, her smile growing. Of the three preemies in the special nursery, two had taken up the call. Christopher was one of them.

Donning a gown, she scrubbed her hands and went to pick up the child she loved more than she thought possible. Christopher was angry, his face red, his movements jerky and stiff. Scooping him into her arms, she crooned into his ear, “There, there, what’s all the fuss about?”

A quick glance at his chart told her that he’d already been fed. That meant he either had to burp, or he just wanted to be held. She patted his back, crooning unintelligible words of comfort, her lips nuzzling his tiny head, his cheek, his adorable little ear. His cries lost their vehemence, gradually trailing away completely on a shuddering breath. Snuggling closer, he curled into her warmth.

Ah, yes, this was what he needed. It was what she needed, too.

She’d meandered from one end of her apartment to the other last night after Tony had left, thinking, praying, wishing. Her home wasn’t fancy, but it was all she needed. Although Barry had done his best to take the biggest share of their assets, she’d hired an attorney who’d made sure she held on to those that were rightfully hers. After the lawyer had taken his cut, she’d invested her winnings. As a nurse, she earned enough money to live on, and had planned to use her savings to put Christopher through college. Of course, Tony would probably insist upon helping choose the right school.

If he married her, that is.

“Of course he’ll marry me,” she whispered in Christopher’s ear. “He’s already committed to as much.”

But he doesn’t know, a voice whispered inside her head. You have to tell him.

No!

Covering Christopher’s back with the flat of her hand, she lifted her face and closed her eyes. Please. I love Christopher. Let me have him. I’ll do anything. Please.

Please.

The cry of babies was her only answer.

She continued to walk with Christopher, occasionally laying a hand on another infant who seemed to need nothing more than a human touch. Christopher didn’t seem to mind sharing her. It was as if he knew she loved him more than anybody else.

It felt right that he was secure in her love. It was one of the reasons she’d come here every day since the night he was born. There had been times when she’d been sure that her will alone had kept him alive. Oh, she loved him so. In her heart he was hers already. Was it so wrong to want him to be hers in the eyes of the law?

She deserved to be his mother.

Didn’t she?

Beth closed her eyes for a minute, because she knew better than anybody that life wasn’t always fair. Happiness had nothing to do with justice, or merit, or divine rights. Everything came down to doing one’s best. And the best thing she could do, the only thing she could do, was tell Tony the truth.

* * *

Beth had been pacing back and forth in Tony’s small office for five minutes, rehearsing what she was going to say word-for-word. The instant she heard the door open, she stopped, her eyes trained on his framed medical license on the wall.

“Connie said you wanted to see me?”

With her heart in her throat, she turned around. Tony closed the door behind him, slowly running his hand down the length of his silk tie, waiting for her to tell him why she’d come.

Her eyes had been burning from lack of sleep all day, her conscience burning with the need to tell the truth. Suddenly, she didn’t know where to begin. Clasping her hands behind her back, she raised her chin and quietly said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

He took a step closer and held up one hand. “If you’re about to tell me that you used to be a man, you can stop right there, because I’d never believe you. My instincts couldn’t be that far off.”

His attempt at humor sent a small smile to her lips and a tiny ray of hope to her heart. He really was a good man. Perhaps what she had to say to him wouldn’t alter his decision to marry her.