Ultimatum: Marriage / For the Sake of the Secret Child: Ultimatum: Marriage / For the Sake of the Secret Child

He was hungry. If he was going to eat, he had to shoot something or catch something.

Whatever she’d expected when she’d come to Jake’s house, it wasn’t kindness and concern.

“If you don’t need anything else, I really do have to get home to my boys.” Vanessa’s voice was crisp and hurried and yet there was a maternal compassion in her dark brown eyes that reminded Alicia of her own mother.

Alicia caught herself. This woman was a stranger. She had a life and didn’t have much time to deal even briefly with her boss’s personal crisis. Mothering her sons was her top priority.

“I’ll be fine,” Alicia whispered. “Thanks for sending that man over to board up the window.”

“You could spend the night with me and my boys if you’re afraid to stay in such a big house all by yourself.”

“What a sweet offer, but really, I’ll be fine,” Alicia said. “It’s just the night.”

“I’d enjoy some adult companionship,” Vanessa coaxed.

Alicia shook her head.

“Okay, then. He told me to tell you to set the alarm. And if you get lonely—call.”

Nodding at the older woman, who Jake had paid to take care of her, Alicia held on to the two sacks of groceries as Vanessa shut the front door and then locked it firmly behind her.

Clutching the grocery sacks to her breasts, Alicia walked back to the kitchen. Mechanically she removed the lunch meat and cereal boxes, a loaf of bread and a bottle of milk and set them on the counter. It was nice of Jake to send food.

The last rays of the setting sun gilded the edges between the shades and the windowsill. Soon it would be dark outside. She had the rest of the evening to think about her problem. At least Jake had listened and said he would assume his share of the responsibility. He hadn’t thrown her out.

She wished he was here, and that confused her. She’d felt so wonderful when he’d held her and kissed her. That perplexed her, too. How could she feel this powerful connection to a man who’d made love to her and then had turned her father in to the feds?

Maybe it was being in this house, where they’d talked and laughed and made love. They had so much fun together that first night.

Don’t think about it!

Okay, enough! I have things to do. I’ll make supper, clean the dishes, get ready for bed, hunt for Gus, watch some TV, set my alarm.

Is it really so important to set an alarm when my doctor’s appointment tomorrow isn’t until noon?

Just do it.

She called to Gus, who for once came running. Slathering mayonnaise on two pieces of bread, she made herself a turkey sandwich. When she sat down at the table, Gus hunkered over his bowl and ate his tuna.

Her thoughts turned to Jake and what she’d said to him before he’d left.

“But why do you have to go away?” she’d whispered. “I feel guilty running you out of your own house.”

“Don’t. It’s what I do sometimes—when I need to think.”

“Think about what?”

“About what the hell we’re going to do if you’re pregnant.”

“What are you saying?” she’d asked.

He’d stopped slinging fishing gear into his backpack and had walked over to her. Cupping her chin with blunt, tanned fingertips so that she was forced to stare up into his blue eyes, he hadn’t spoken until he was sure he had her full attention.

“If there’s a baby, I want it,” he said softly. “Do you understand me?”

But he didn’t want her. She’d nodded and after a long moment he’d freed her chin.

“Okay then,” he said.

“I could lock myself into the downstairs bedroom and not come out until morning. You wouldn’t even know I was here.”

He’d turned and smiled at her. “Trust me. It wouldn’t be the same. I need to be completely alone.”

“But I wouldn’t bother you.”

“The hell you say. Every fiber in my being would know you’re nearby. You bother me by existing.”

“Oh.”

She must have looked hurt because his expression had gentled.

“But not always in the worst possible way.”

Not always in the worst possible way. Was that a compliment?

Before he’d left, he’d locked his office and his bedroom upstairs. She’d stiffened at those final clicks as the bolts shot home and he’d withdrawn his key.

When she’d been a little girl, she used to follow her father everywhere when he’d packed for a trip. She’d lingered, watching him lock all the doors that kept her out of entire wings of their houses and apartments too.

The servants, of course, had had keys so they could clean. But his only daughter had had no access.

All her father’s homes had been furnished with valuable antiques and art collections worthy of museums. He’d said he didn’t trust the servants to keep her from sitting on the chairs and spilling drinks or food on the furniture or tainting one of his precious sculptures or paintings with oily fingerprints.

How different her mother had been. Their homes had previously been filled with sunlight and flowers and friends. She’d always had time to sit on the floor and play with her daughter or read to her or chat.

After Alicia finished her sandwich, she sat in silence sipping her milk. Finally, she rose and washed the dishes.

Feeling too restless and lonely to shower and get ready for bed, she began to pace, calling to Gus, who had disappeared again.

Climbing the floating stairs, she lingered outside Jake’s locked bedroom and remembered the night he’d carried her inside and kicked the door shut. The walls of his bedroom were either floor-to-ceiling bookshelves or tall windows with views of his large backyard and pool.

They’d made love on his bed and then on the thick woven rug by his bed. Then they’d lain in bed talking. When she’d noticed that only books filled his shelves, she’d asked him why he didn’t have a single photograph of his friends or family.

“I left home when I was very young. I traveled light. This house is rented, like all the houses I’ve lived in. So—no pictures.”

“You’ve never built yourself a house?”

“Maybe someday.”