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“Hello,” Rachel said softly.
“Hello? That’s all you have to say to me? After what you’ve done?”
Rachel looked to Trudy then back to Reid. “I—I don’t understand. What have I done?”
Reid stood for a moment, mouth agape. He realized what he must look like and purposely shut it.
“This is a joke, right?”
Rachel shook her head slowly. “No.”
Turning to Trudy, Reid said, “Would you mind leaving us alone for a little while?”
Trudy hesitated. “I don’t know if I should. She’s not used to your rages, Reid. You look like you’re ready to kill someone.”
“Go along, Trudy, and don’t worry. I gave up killing women years ago.”
Trudy shook her head and gave him a patronizing grin. “Maybe I should stay.”
“No. There are things I need to say that are private.”
“I think I know what they are,” Trudy said.
“Do you?” Reid said with an arch of his brows. “That’s interesting, because I don’t.”
His fury was simmering, evidently close to the surface. Trudy glanced at Rachel. She was shaking.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said to her friend, her voice trembling. “Go. Please.”
Trudy walked to the door. “All right. But I’m waiting right outside. Scream if you need me.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob and turned to look at Reid. “That goes for either one of you.”
When she was gone, Reid stepped from around his desk. He walked over to the sitting area and placed his hand on the back of a Queen Anne chair.
“Sit,” he said softly, and when she didn’t move right away, added, “Please.”
It was not a word he used often, if at all, and it didn’t roll off of his tongue easily, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Not again. If that’s what he had done the first time. He didn’t know, and that was the problem. He had to know who she was and what had happened. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he wasn’t about to blow this opportunity, this tremendous stroke of good luck, and lose her again.
“Please,” he repeated, and this time she complied, moving toward him, then around him before sitting in the chair.
He sat on the couch across from her with only the width of the coffee table separating them.
Rachel placed her hands on her knees, palms down. “Can you tell me what happened that night?” she asked.
Reid arched his brows. “I was going to ask you that question.”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought it was all a dream up until now.”
“A dream?”
“Yes... You see, I became quite ill after. The flu or some such virus. Whatever the case, I was in pretty bad shape. I passed out the night of the party, and I’m afraid I don’t remember very much about it. Trudy said you were the host.”
“Yes... Our new perfume launch party at the armory. We met there,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “We talked...”
“Yes?”
Was she for real? Did she actually think that he would believe she didn’t remember any of this?
“We left together.” Rachel’s eyes widened. She leaned forward, urging him on with a nod of her head. “We walked for a while,” he continued, “and ended up by my place. Do you remember any of this?”
“No,” she said softly. “What happened then?”
“And then you came with me upstairs.”
“To your apartment?”
“At first.”
“And after?”
“To my bedroom.”
Rachel’s gaze dropped to her hands. She felt the heat rise to her face.
“Look at me,” he said, and she lifted her eyes. “You really don’t remember?”
“No. I was on antibiotics. I had something to drink. The punch, I think—”
“The punch was almost all vodka.”
“That’s what Trudy said. I don’t know if the combination of the two had something to do with it, but I blacked out the rest of the evening.”
“You seemed perfectly all right.” He paused. “More than all right.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“You don’t remember making love—”
“No...yes...but only afterward. I thought it was a dream.”
“You said that. What made you change your mind?”
Rachel blew out a breath to steady her nerves. She was trembling so badly she had to sit back in the chair and grip the armrests to stop herself from visibly shaking.
“Something’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant.”
Reid stared at her. He didn’t think anything could shock him more than her unexpected appearance. But she’d topped that. And then some. He kept his expression neutral, no easy feat when his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thought the buttons on his shirt would pop.
“And you’re here to claim that I’m the father?”
“There’s no other explanation,” she said.
“I could think of a few.”
Rachel’s hands formed into fists. She had to remain in control. This was difficult enough without her losing it. Of course he would be skeptical. Who wouldn’t be? Yet he had a right to know, whether he believed her or not.
She licked her lips. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m thinking,” he said with a raw politeness that bordered on contempt.
“Yes, I do. You think I’m after money or something. Well, I’m not. I don’t want anything from you.” She stood. “When Trudy and I finally figured out what must have happened, I asked her to bring me here. I thought you had a right to know. No more, no less.” Rachel eased herself away from the chair and headed for the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.”
“Stop right there,” he said.
“I’m not one of your underlings, Mr. James, you can’t order me around.”
“Come back.” When she didn’t move, he gritted his teeth and added, “Please...”
Rachel looked across the room into crystal green eyes. The intensity of his gaze was overpowering and it propelled her forward. She stopped a few feet from him. “I have nothing else to say to you,” she said.
“Well, I have some things I’d like to say to you, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
Reid moved away from the couch. His mind was reeling. With the ease and grace of a man used to getting his own way all the time, he walked over to his desk. He lifted a gold cigarette case off the mahogany top and flipped it open, extracting one and slipping it between his lips.
“Cigarette?” he asked, then added, “No. I forgot. You don’t smoke. Tried it once when you were sixteen and made yourself sick.”
Rachel’s chin came up as a chill ran down her spine. She had told him things about herself. Details about her life. Yet all she had from him came through Trudy and what she’d read in the papers. All secondhand.
Except, that is, for the child she carried.
A wave of weakness overcame her and she swayed. “I’d like to sit down,” she said in a small voice, and moved toward the leather chair in front of his desk.
“How about some coffee? Or tea?” he asked.
“Tea would be wonderful.”
Reid pressed the intercom and placed the order with Charlotte.
“You don’t look well,” he said, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.” She looked up at him. “Normal, I’m told, under the circumstances.”
He gave her a curt nod and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag into his lungs as Charlotte brought in a cup of tea on a tray. She carried his finest china service, the one reserved for important guests, foreign dignitaries and the like. Reid caught his assistant’s eye and questioned her with a glance. She smiled, a Mona Lisa smile that said she knew too much.
Damn Trudy. He’d better nip this bit of news in the bud or the entire building would know about it before five o’clock quitting time.
“Thank you,” Rachel said as she accepted a cup from Charlotte.
“You’re welcome, dear,” Charlotte said. “If you need anything else, just call.”
“That will be all, Charlotte,” Reid said, dismissing her.
She smiled again as she left, and Reid gave her an imperceptible shake-of-the-head warning before returning his attention to the woman across from him.
As Rachel doctored the tea, Reid studied her through a haze of smoke, his eyes hooded, his brain racing. He attempted to conjure up that night once again, more pragmatically this time, without the warm, fuzzy feeling that always seemed to engulf him whenever he thought of her.
That day had been hell. By five o’clock he’d had a raging headache, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was to make the obligatory appearance at the perfume launch party. But he’d relented and agreed to attend. He’d milled around the room several times, shaking hands, making nice to all the media people. The place was packed to capacity, invitations having spawned invitations like rabbits in a warren. They’d rented the armory for the event, which was only blocks from his town house, and the temptation to cut out early was too great to ignore. He had been just about to do that when he’d spotted her.
Like a scene out of an old movie, the hoards of people had faded into the background as their eyes met across the room. Without much thought, he’d changed direction and walked over to her. She’d smiled, and the pounding in his head had seemed to subside. They’d talked party talk, and she’d made him laugh. No easy feat under the best of circumstances, but that night of all nights it had seemed almost miraculous.
He’d asked her to get some air, go for a walk, and she’d accepted. Moving slowly through the crowd, they’d managed to leave without anyone noticing. The night was warm, humid, and after a block or two their clothing had stuck to them. He hadn’t planned it, but they’d ended up near his town house. He’d invited her up for a cool drink, and she’d accepted.
The memories swirled around him as he gazed across the desk at her sipping her tea. She glanced at him over the rim of the cup.
The warm fuzzies returned. He couldn’t remember the rest of the evening without them. She’d been so...real. They’d talked as if they’d known each other all their lives. When she’d commented on the decor, he’d taken her on a tour of the town house, ending up in his top-floor bedroom. She’d teased him about the size of his bed, and he’d jokingly told her to test it out. With lazy informality, she’d stretched out on his bed, luxuriating in the feel of his white satin sheets.
It was then that their eyes had met once again and the same tug that had pulled him to her at the party had brought him to sit on the edge of the bed.
She’d been so unselfconscious that it had seemed like the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her.
And then he’d lost it. All sense of time, place, reality...control. They’d made love with such freedom, such comfort, it had seemed as if they’d been at it for years.
Which was why he couldn’t forget it.
And if it had been that special for him, it had to have been that way for her, as well.
Which was also why he wasn’t buying her claim that she couldn’t remember any of this.
Was it all an act? He couldn’t know, not yet. Not until he’d had a chance to check her out. But she knew Trudy Levin and that was a plus in her favor. Trudy had been with him a long time, and he trusted her completely.
But he’d been this “baby” route before. He’d reached a plateau in life where he was fair game to all around him. When he was in his twenties, he’d been wrongfully slapped with a paternity suit, and while he was able to medically prove the woman wrong and win the case, it had been an expensive and embarrassing undertaking.
Since then he’d become twice shy when it came to relationships. In the last several years, despite newspaper items to the contrary, there had been fewer and fewer women in his life, to the point where he spent a good part of the year alone. And when he chose otherwise, he was particularly cautious, almost to the point of paranoia when it came to using protection. And such had been the case with Rachel.
But condoms didn’t always work—his parents could attest to that—and for that he owed her the benefit of the doubt.
“Better?” he asked as she placed the teacup on the tray.
“Yes. Much.” She looked up at him. “What did you want to ask me?”
“If what you say is true—”
“It is.”
“Then, I suppose I’m asking what you intend to do.”
Rachel toyed with the delicate handle of the teacup. “There are options...choices,” she said softly.
“Yes. Have you made any decision yet?”
She shook her head slowly. “No.” She looked up at him. “I haven’t.”
They stared at each other for the longest time, all those troubling questions with no satisfactory answers hanging in the air between them.
Reid squashed the cigarette in an ashtray. “I’d like to be included in that decision-making process, if I may?”
“Then you believe me?”
He sat back in his chair. “Not necessarily.”
“Then why bother? When I walk out of here today, you don’t ever have to see me again. I promise not to involve you in any way.”
“There is always the possibility that you are telling the truth,” he said. “If that’s the case, Rachel, have no doubts, I will be involved. I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said.
“Are you going to investigate my background, Mr. James?” she asked sarcastically.
He stood. “As a matter of fact, I am, Rachel. And, oh, let’s dispense with the formalities. A little late for that, don’t you think? Call me Reid.” He paused and pinned her with his eyes. “You did that night...over and over again.”
Rachel’s throat went dry. She swallowed. “I don’t remember.”
Reid came to her, and she looked up at him. His face was intense, his eyes as green as a meadow in spring. Placing one hand on each armrest, he effectively trapped her in the chair.
“Then let me refresh your memory.”
His mouth came down on hers. Rachel remained absolutely still with no thought of resistance. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, she parted her lips for him. And as night follows day, his tongue swept into her mouth, met hers, mated, and danced a lovers’ dance.
The first thing that registered in Rachel’s mind was the heat. She remembered that with crystal clarity. Then his scent washed over her, his taste, and a flash flood of memories engulfed her. A powerful twinge of desire unfurled in her belly as his heat drifted down through her mouth into all the vital parts of her body.
Her pulse accelerated to an alarming rate. Her head lolled back against the chair and he followed, opening his mouth wider, deepening the kiss, taking as much as she was willing to give. More.
Reid felt like an alcoholic denied drink for too long, freed at last to have a taste, just this one and no more. His heart and head pounded in tandem as he drank his fill. She whimpered, and the sound vibrated into him, his mouth, his heart, his soul.
His arms began to tremble from exertion and something else he didn’t dare name, and the fear returned.
He released her.
They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart, their breathing labored as if they’d been running.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, uncharacteristically apologizing, not knowing why, only feeling the need to do so.
Rachel touched her swollen lips with her fingertips. “Why did you do that?” she asked.
His hands in fists, Reid took a step back from her and shook his head as if to clear it, more for himself than to answer her question.
He half turned and looked at her. “I had to see if your dream had just been my imagination.”
Rachel nodded, knowing what he meant, understanding that he needed verification that they had, indeed, been together, been more to each other than casual acquaintances at a party. The baby notwithtanding—it still didn’t seem quite real enough to her yet—like he, she’d needed some proof now, some tangible evidence that the dream had, indeed, been real.
And if nothing else, the kiss had proved that.
To both of them.
He’d kissed her, but she’d known how to kiss him back. She’d known exactly how to respond to him. It wasn’t something that happened instinctively with a first kiss. That knowledge only came with practice, and consciously, or unconsciously, Rachel had known what he’d wanted from her and how to give it to him.
A knock sounded and Trudy stuck her head in the door. “Are you two all right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Reid said, walking back around his desk. “We’re fine.”
“May I come in?”
“Please,” Rachel answered.
Her gaze locked with Reid’s. Her eyes told him their talk had ended. His said yes...for now.
“If that’s all...” Rachel said to him as she stood.
“May I call you?” he asked.
“I...” Rachel looked to Trudy, then back to Reid. “Yes, if you wish.”
“I do.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll go home with you,” Trudy said, then turned to Reid. “Unless you need me for something?”
Reid shook his head. “No,” he said as he walked the two women to the door, opened and held it for them.
Rachel turned to him, feeling ridiculously awkward. She held out her hand. “Goodbye...Reid.”
“Thank you for coming,” he said politely, and shook her hand.
His hand said one thing, his eyes another. Rachel wondered which message was for her. Perhaps both, she mused, and gave him a tentative smile as she left.
Reid stood in his doorway staring into space long after Rachel and Trudy departed. Charlotte studied him, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she resumed typing. The sound galvanized him and he pushed himself to move.
“Charlotte,” he said as he turned to reenter his office. “Get Mazelli back on the phone.”
* * *
Rachel’s visit to the doctor confirmed what she already knew to be true. She spent the first week of August thinking. Options, she’d told Reid. Choices. There were many in this day and age, but for some reason, she felt hers were limited.
She was thirty years old. Not old, but not young, either. A perfect age, really, to take on the responsibilities of motherhood. If she had married Tom, this would have been just about the time they would be starting their family. But she hadn’t married Tom. She hadn’t married anyone. And there was no one on the romantic horizon.
A fleeting image of Reid James skipped through her mind and she quickly dismissed it. He didn’t believe her, and she hadn’t the will or the energy to convince him. Besides, she was fed up with having to work at making people want her...love her. And even if she had, Reid James would be the least likely candidate.
In her mind’s eye she could still see the headline of the magazine article about him that Trudy had given her: New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor. She winced. And he thought she wanted money from him. Ha! If she’d been that type of person, a quick call to the tabloids would bring her thousands. But that kind of notoriety was the last thing she wanted or needed.
No, there was no one but her in this picture, and whether or not Reid James wanted to be part of the decision-making process, first and last, the choice was hers.
She wanted the baby. It was really as plain and simple as that.
The other choices were not so simple. She still had most of the money her mother had left her, but it wouldn’t last long without a job. As much as she loved New York, it was an expensive place to live, even if she did approach Reid for help.
And that she wouldn’t do. Something deep inside warned her that if she allowed him in, he could, quite possibly, take over not only her life but the baby’s, as well. Living in the afterglow of Reid James’s spotlight didn’t appeal to her, and it wasn’t at all what she wanted for her child. She cherished her independence too much for that, and to keep it, her best choice would be to return to Ohio to live with her father.
Her stomach tightened with the thought. His remarriage only two months after her mother’s death had driven a wedge between them. Though they’d reconciled and had come to terms with each other, there was still a certain amount of tension between them that would make it difficult for her to go back home.
Rachel sat on the edge of her bed and cradled her head in her hands, trying not to remember the harsh words she and her father had exchanged the day of his remarriage. She’d harbored so much resentment of his callous behavior, it had all burst forth that day, ruining everything, or so he’d said.
But she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Her mother had suffered for two years before her death, and Rachel had willingly nursed her. She had always known that her mother and father’s marriage was not one made in heaven, but her mother’s sickness had brought out the worst in her father. He couldn’t deal with the illness that hung over the house like a shroud, so instead, he’d spent as little time as possible there, leaving the burden of care to Rachel.
Not that she’d minded. She’d loved her mother with a fierce loyalty that had lasted until she’d breathed her final breath, and beyond. But Rachel had paid a price for that devotion. Tom’s initial patience with pushing back the wedding date wore thin as one year became two, and finally he, too, found someone else to give him the attention he craved.
The day after her mother’s funeral, he’d broken the news to her. He’d met someone else. He was in love and going to marry her. Rachel remembered the blow of her mother’s death and Tom’s desertion like a one-two punch at a heavyweight match. The final straw was when her father introduced her to his lady-friend, and told her that he and the woman were marrying and moving into their home.
Her mother’s home.
It was all too much for Rachel. She’d exploded the day of his marriage, and the screaming fight that ensued left them both angry and shaken. At the time, the rift had seemed irrevocable as far as Rachel was concerned. She’d moved out that same day, staying with an old school friend and her husband until she could make arrangements to move away.
New York had been a big, sprawling refuge, a place to lose herself, a place to hide. But she’d found that hiding was not enough for her. She’d been sure her mother was watching over her when she’d landed the first job in the garment industry for which she’d applied. She’d apprenticed to a cloth designer, building on her fashion schooling, learning the fabric trade. She’d found an apartment, met Trudy, and had her life running on an even keel for the first time in a very long time.
And then the bottom fell out. She lost her job when the parent company made what they called “necessary cutbacks.” Since she had been the last hired, she was the first fired. That was four months ago. She’d pounded the pavement ever since in hopes of landing a new job, substitute waitressing at the corner coffee shop during the lunch hour to supplement her meager inheritance.
Though her pride bristled at the thought of crawling back home, she knew that was her best course of action. At least if she wanted to have the baby. And she did. That was the only thing of which she was absolutely sure.
So the decision was made.
The buzzer sounded and Rachel rolled off the bed. Trudy had promised to stop by after work and bring take-out. Not that Rachel was the least bit hungry, but she knew if she didn’t eat, Trudy would lecture her, and she would have to agree. She was, after all, now eating for two.
She hit the button and set the table with silverware and napkins as she waited for Trudy to arrive. As the knock sounded, Rachel opened the door to her friend standing with a shopping bag full of Chinese food.
“Did you buy out the restaurant?” Rachel asked with an indulgent smile.
“No, I didn’t buy out the restaurant. I just bought enough for you to have some leftovers. I know you won’t cook for yourself.”
“You’re impossible,” Rachel said.
Trudy patted her cheek as she placed the shopping bag on top of the table. “But you love me anyway.”