Pregnancy Of Convenience

Cal said evenly, “You hated Gustave. Didn’t you?”

“I no longer loved him. If that’s what you mean.”

“I’m not sure it is.”

“You won’t believe me when I say this, because your mind’s made up about me. But a long time ago I realized that to hate Gustave would destroy me.”

Hate was horribly destructive: Cal was certainly sophisticated enough to know that. He said provocatively, “So you destroyed him instead?”

She sagged against the door frame. “Can one person destroy another? Doesn’t destruction come from within?”

Again, Cal could only agree with her. Into his silence, Joanna added fiercely, “So you think I could destroy you? And how would I go about doing that?”

“Like this,” said Cal, putting his arms around her and kissing her full on the mouth.

She went rigid with shock, her palms bunched into fists against his chest. Then she wrenched her head free, her breasts heaving under her sweater. “Tell the truth—it’s you who wants to destroy me,” she cried. “But I won’t let you, I’ll never let a man that close to me again.”

What the devil had possessed him to kiss her like that? And why, when she was glaring at him as though he was the Marquis de Sade, did he want to kiss her again? But differently this time, not out of anger but out of desire.

The bruise on her forehead standing out lividly, she backed into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. The lock snapped into place. If she’d taken the prize for stupidity by attempting to drive a small white car through a blizzard, he was now a close second. Kissing Joanna Strassen had been the stupidest move he’d made in a dog’s age.

But he’d liked kissing her. More than liked it. It had inflamed every one of his senses.

When he left Winnipeg, he was headed to Boston on business. He’d give Jasmine a call. Wine her and dine her and take her to bed. That’s what he’d do. And the sooner the better.

In fact, he might even phone her from here. Yeah, he might just do that.

Picking up Gustave’s pajamas from the floor, Cal put them on the dresser. He could hear water running in the bathroom. He hoped to God Joanna wouldn’t slip or faint in the bathtub.

He’d broken a car window already today. He could always break down the bathroom door.

That would really impress Maria.

Somewhat cheered, Cal picked up War and Peace again. He had the whole night. He might as well get on with it.

Half an hour later, Joanna opened the bathroom door. She was fully dressed, her cheeks pink from the heat. Cal said calmly, “You can have these,” and passed her the new pajamas Dieter had given him.

“They’re yours,” she said inimically.

“They’re Dieter’s. I never wear pajamas.”

“And where are you planning to sleep?” Her nostrils flared. “Do you know what? I don’t even know your name.”

“Cal,” he said, and held out his hand, adding ironically, “Pleased to meet you.”

She kept her own hands firmly at her sides. “Answer the question.”

“On the couch. Unless you’d rather have it. It’ll be too short for me.”

“As far as I’m concerned you can sleep outdoors in a snowdrift.”

For the first time since finding her in the car, Cal’s smile broke through. “That’s not very nice of you. I did, after all, save your life.”

“And would you have, had you known who I was?”

“Of course I would. What kind of a question’s that?”

She chewed on her lower lip. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly. “I guess.”

“Put on your pajamas and go to bed,” Cal ordered. “Before you fall flat on your face.”

She was scowling at him as though her one desire was to strangle him with the pajamas. Cal quelled an inappropriate urge to laugh his head off. He’d give her one thing: she sure didn’t back down.

She shut the bathroom door smartly in his face. He re-made the bed, stoked the fire, and went back to his book. Considering the disruptive effect a black-haired woman was having on his life, he was getting quite interested in the doings of Pierre, Natasha and Prince Andrew. He’d have to tell Lenny. She’d be impressed.

The door opened again. As Cal glanced up, War and Peace fell from the arm of his chair to the floor with a resounding thump. Dieter was a big man: his pajamas were far too large for Joanna. Even though she’d buttoned them to the very top, her cleavage was exposed, a soft shadow in the V of the neckline; the blue cotton hinted at her breasts. The sleeves fell over her fingertips, and she’d turned up the cuffs of the trousers. Cal found himself staring at her bare feet, which were narrow and high-arched. Then his eyes of their own accord found her face again.

She had freed her hair from its braid, so that it rippled down her back. Under his scrutiny, she was blushing as though she were as innocent as his own daughter.

Which, of course, she wasn’t.

Slowly Cal got to his feet.

CHAPTER THREE

AS JOANNA took a nervous step backward, Cal stopped dead in his tracks. He’d been going to kiss her again; that had been his intention. A repeat of a less than clever move.

He said roughly, “Will the light bother you if I read for a while?”

“No,” she stumbled, “no, of course not.”

“I’ll probably wake you up a couple of times in the night—that’s standard practice after a bump on the head.”

“Oh.” She swallowed, the muscles moving in her throat. “I don’t think that’s necessary, I feel much better.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him. But then the flare of temper died from her eyes. She got into bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and turned her back to him. Within a very few minutes, Cal could hear the gentle rhythm of her breathing, and realized he’d been reading the same paragraph over and over again.

Swearing under his breath, he forced himself to read on. Before he made up a bed on the couch at eleven-thirty, and again at two in the morning, he checked her pulse and the dilation of her pupils, both times without waking her. But at five, when the beam of his flashlight fell on her face, her eyes jerked open, full of terror. Like those of a rabbit who sights the talons of an owl seconds before they strike, Cal thought, and said with swift compassion, “It’s okay, I’m just checking to see you’re all right.”

She sank back on the pillow, her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. “Is that the wind I hear?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to get out of here today!”

“It’ll die down soon,” he said without much conviction; if anything, the storm had increased in intensity in the night.