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The Tender Trap
BEVERLY BARTON
ME? MARRY YOU?It took just one brief touch of Adam Wyatt's lips to Blythe Elliot's mouth to ignite a fire so hot neither could deny it. And now, thanks to that one reckless night of passion, Blythe has an unplanned surprise for Adam… and he has an unexpected proposal for her!OKAY… I DO. Blythe is sure she has nothing in common with stubborn, old-fashioned Adam - except for the baby she carries, the signed marriage certificate… and the house they share. But living together soon makes them realize that it wasn't sex, but love, that created their child. If only one of them would admit it first… .


“I Don’t Want To Marry You,” (#u5ca4e85e-1cbf-5d6b-affb-19404a4d8a7e)Letter to Reader (#u1863110f-0eb8-5ebc-95ac-b2fd7566d318)Title Page (#u52335df9-9653-56dd-8dfd-75dc65d7d6ce)BEVERLY BARTON (#u5f899e26-e44c-5ee3-80fb-a58318174556)Dedication (#u879c4ff3-af98-5559-b100-0da60c60342e)Chapter One (#u2d5593cb-04fd-56f1-894a-ff44af74be03)Chapter Two (#ud0cc7e96-a02b-5d62-b2f1-07956ad036e6)Chapter Three (#u3c1821b3-8025-54d0-9ce5-3b909cdbc679)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I Don’t Want To Marry You,”
Blythe told Adam, “and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to marry me. Despite the fact that we slept together, we really don’t like each other.”
“Maybe we could learn to like each other.” Adam stood. “If we gave each other a chance and got to know each other, we might learn to be friends.”
“I doubt that will ever happen.”
“Why not?” Adam grinned. “A few months ago neither of us would have believed we’d ever become lovers, and look what happened.”
Dear Reader,
Welcome to a wonderful new year at Silhouette Desire! Let’s start with a delightfully humorous MAN OF THE MONTH by Lass Small—The Coffeepot Inn. Here, a sinfully sexy hero is tempted by a virtuous woman. He’s determined to protect her from becoming the prey of the local men—and he’s determined to win her for himself!
The HOLIDAY HONEYMOONS miniseries continues this month with Resolved To (Re)Marry by Carole Buck. Don’t miss this latest installment of this delightful continuity series!
And the always wonderful Jennifer Greene continues her STANFORD SISTERS series with Bachelor Mom. As many of you know, Jennifer is an award winner, and this book shows why she is so popular with readers and critics alike!
Completing the month are a new love story from the sizzling pen of Beverly Barton, The Tender Trap; a delightful Western from Pamela Macaluso, The Loneliest Cowboy; and something a little bit different from Ashley Summers, On Wings of Love.
Enjoy!


Senior Editor
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The Tender Trap
Beverly Barton



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
BEVERLY BARTON
has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. An avid reader since childhood, she began writing at the age of nine and wrote short stories, poetry, plays and novels throughout high school and college. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, she chose to be a full-time homemaker, a.k.a. wife, mother, friend and volunteer.
When she returned to writing, she joined Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. Since the release of her first Silhouette book in 1990, she has won the GRW Maggie Award, the National Readers’ Choice Award and has been a RITA finalist. Beverly considers writing romance books a real labor of love. Her stories come straight from the heart, and she hopes that all the strong and varied emotions she invests in her books will be felt by everyone who reads them.
With love and appreciation to a bright, funny, energetic
little ball of fire—my very special friend,
JoAnn Westfall. And a heartfelt thank-you to every
member of my Heart of Dixie RWA chapter for
their continued support.
One
Adam Wyatt was the sexist man on earth. Blythe had thought so since the moment they met, nearly two years ago. Every time she saw him, the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Why was it that, of all the men she’d ever known, he was the one she couldn’t stop fantasizing about? She could not keep herself from thinking about what it would be like to have him as her first lover.
Standing in the doorway leading to the patio, she watched Adam while he checked the outside area to make sure the caterer had cleared away everything. He turned, smiled and waved at her.
After the last guest had left, he had removed his jacket and tie. His wide shoulders strained against the pristine white shirt, and Blythe could see plainly the contours of his muscular, six-foot-two body. A heavy sprinkling of steel gray highlighted his thick mane of black hair, which was almost completely white along his sideburns and at his temples.
Adam was good-looking, in that very big, tough manly kind of way that made a woman’s knees turn to jelly and her brain turn to mush. He was so drop-dead gorgeous few women could resist him.
Blythe quivered, then prayed the shudder hadn’t been noticeable. Turning her back to him, she walked into the condo and took a deep, steadying breath. To most women Adam Wyatt was definitely irresistible, but she could resist him. She’d been doing just that for two years, and even if it killed her, she would go on resisting. He might be devastatingly handsome, charming and a self-made millionaire, but he was the wrong man for her.
Blythe was a modern woman—Adam was an old-fashioned man. They mixed like oil and water. Perhaps that was part of his attraction. He was everything she had always avoided in a man. He was the type she repeatedly told herself she didn’t want. And that was the problem. She did want Adam—wanted him badly.
Giving in to her sexual urges in this case could mean disaster. Adam was too macho, too much the Me-Tarzan-You-Jane type. In that respect, he reminded her of her overbearing, domineering stepfather, and she had sworn long ago she’d never allow herself to fall for a man who’d try to dominate her.
Of course it wasn’t as if Adam had been pursuing her. The exact opposite was true. Since their first meeting, when sparks had flown between them, he’d avoided her as much as possible. And she’d been glad. If she spent too much time with the man, there was always the chance she’d give in to her primitive feminine desire and throw caution to the wind.
Tears clouded Blythe’s vision. She swallowed, then wiped her eyes. She had to stop this overemotional reaction to the day’s events. The last thing she wanted was for Adam to catch her acting like some weak, weeping female.
She had tried not to cry, but despite her best efforts she’d greatly resembled a leaky faucet all afternoon. But then, it wasn’t every day that a woman became a godmother.
Blythe lifted two empty champagne glasses onto the silver tray she held and placed the tray on top of the bar. Without thinking, she began picking up dirty plates and crumpled napkins from where they’d been left scattered around the living room in Adam’s Brickyard Landing Marina condo.
“Hey, leave that stuff.” Adam stepped inside through the sliding glass doors that opened onto his private brick patio overlooking the Tennessee River. “The housekeeper will take care of everything the caterers left when she gets here in the morning.”
“Sure. I guess I’m so used to picking up after parties at my house, I didn’t think.”
Blythe glanced at Adam. Big, tall, rugged Adam, with his macho stance, his gruff voice and his slanting dark eyes.
Remember that you don’t like him! Remember that he’s not your type!
It had been mutual animosity at first sight when they’d met at the engagement party Adam had hosted for his lawyer, Craig Simpson, and Joy Daniels, Blythe’s best friend. She supposed Adam was a nice enough man—if you liked his type. But she didn’t like his type, and it had been apparent, from some of his remarks, that he was prejudiced against strong, independent career women.
“Everything went well, don’t you think?” Leaving the sliding glass doors open behind him, Adam walked into the living room. “It was a new experience for me. I’ve never hosted a christening party before.”
“We could have had the party at my apartment.” Blythe had offered to give the christening party for her little goddaughter, but Adam had insisted on hosting the event. And Adam Wyatt always got his way.
“In that cracker box apartment of yours over on the southwest end of town?” Adam laughed, the sound a deep rumble from his broad chest. “You couldn’t fit ten people into that tiny place, let alone the thirty Joy and Craig invited to Missy’s christening. That’s why we agreed to have the party here. Remember?” Falling into a navy blue leather chair, Adam stretched out his long legs in front of him as he raised his arms over his head and burrowed into the seat.
“You’re right, I did agree for us to have the party here. I wanted today to be perfect. Joy is my best friend. Melissa is my goddaughter.” Blythe clenched her teeth, narrowed her eyes and glared at Adam. “And you knew exactly how much having everything go exactly as we had planned meant to me.”
“I figured you’d chew me out the minute we were alone,” he said. “Just because I made a few minor changes to expedite matters, to simplify them a bit—”
“A few minor changes, my foot!” Blythe slammed her index finger down against her open palm. “First of all, you didn’t use the caterer we had agreed to use.” Down came her finger again. “Second, you changed the color scheme I chose.” Smack. Her finger hitting her palm emphasized her aggravation. “Third—”
Adam threw up his hands in surrender. “Enough, woman! Enough.”
“More than enough!” Blythe closed her mouth tightly, hoping to prevent herself from saying something she’d really regret.
“Look, I run a multimillion-dollar construction firm and have a large staff at my disposal. You don’t. With your free time limited, I thought it more expedient to let my secretary handle the details of the christening party.”
Blythe threw the handful of used napkins she’d gathered straight at him, but they missed the target and fell silently to the floor. “There, that should give your housekeeper something to complain about. The caterers I wanted to use would have cleaned up everything!”
“Pearl never complains.” Adam grinned. “Unlike someone else I know who makes a habit of complaining.”
Damn, he thought, how that little ball of fire irritated him and yet amused him at the same time. Blythe reminded him of a scratching, spitting kitten who was always on the defensive, always protecting herself, always afraid of being hurt.
“Do you want an apology?” Adam asked, figuring she was the type who’d enjoy seeing a man grovel.
“What good would an apology do? Make you feel better? Well, it won’t change a thing. You bulldozed right over me, disregarding my wishes when you knew how important this day was to me.”
“I thought everything went beautifully,” he said.
“I suppose so. Everything went your way.” Huffing loudly, she crossed her arms over her chest.
He’d had no choice but to host this party with Blythe, since Joy was her best friend, but dammit, his gut instincts had told him the two of them could never work together. He had known some stubborn, hardheaded, independent women in his time—and avoided them like the plague—but Blythe Elliott took the cake. She was the most argumentative female he’d ever run across, and he’d spent two years keeping his distance. But heaven help him, it hadn’t been easy. Not when, despite everything, he wanted her—wanted her in his bed, crying out his name, begging him to pleasure her.
Crossing his arms behind his head, Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Every time he spent more than two minutes with Blythe, he found himself wanting to either strangle her or kiss her. He wasn’t sure which he wanted most. She had a chip on her shoulder when it came to him that he found hard to understand. He knew for a fact that she liked men, dated men and had men friends. But he was one man she didn’t like, and that bothered him greatly. As a matter of fact, it bothered him a lot more than it should.
Blythe seemed to disapprove of him with a passion, and he simply couldn’t figure out why. He’d never done anything to the woman. Hell, he’d given her a wide berth, staying out of her line of fire as much as possible, despite the fact that their best friends had married each other.
Opening his eyes, Adam sneaked a peek at Blythe and found her staring at him. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you by slightly altering our plans. I honestly don’t think you should object to an improvement over—”
“Let’s just agree to disagree on this one.” Glowering at him, Blythe sucked in her cheeks and blew out an exasperated breath. “And we’d better change the subject before I really lose my temper.”
“Good idea.” Shaking his head, Adam closed his eyes again and tried to relax. He didn’t want to argue with Blythe, especially not today.
Blythe bent over, picked up the napkins she’d tossed at Adam and placed them on the end table. She decided she would be civil to him and end the day on as pleasant a note as possible.
“I thought it was wonderful that Joy and Craig christened my goddaughter, Melissa Blythe, after Joy’s grandmother and me.” Blythe hadn’t been able to keep herself from crying during the christening ceremony. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been so touched.
“Well, you could hardly expect them to name her Adam Tobias Maximillian Wyatt.”
Blythe stared at Adam, trying hard to keep from smiling. The effort failed. “Good grief, is that really your name? Adam Tobias Maximillian Wyatt?”
Blythe burst into laughter. Groaning, Adam opened his eyes and stared at her. He shot out of his chair and playfully grabbed her by the shoulders. Smiling, he shook her gently. “I can’t believe I told you. Forget you ever heard that. Okay?”
She trembled with laughter, her body quivering beneath his fingertips. Damn, but she was tiny, her bones so very fragile. He doubted she weighed much more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had to be a foot shorter than he was; the top of her head struck him midchest. If he kissed her, he’d have to pick her up to reach her mouth.
Hell, he couldn’t let himself think about kissing her. She was the last woman on earth he should want. But he did want—had wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her in a body-hugging purple dress that accentuated every curve of her petite body. He’d spent the whole night of Craig and Joy’s engagement party struggling to control his arousal.
The moment Adam touched her, Blythe gazed up into his dark eyes. He looked at her intensely. What was he thinking? If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he wanted to kiss her.
Dropping his hands from Blythe’s shoulders, Adam took a step backward. Blythe sucked in a deep breath. A loud rumble of thunder shattered the uneasy silence. A zigzag of ragged lightning ripped through the cloudy, gray evening sky.
“I guess I’d better get going since you don’t need me to hang around and help you clean up.” Blythe backed away from Adam, bumping into the edge of an end table.
Heavy drops of rain hit the patio. The wind blew the dampness inside through the open doors. Turning quickly, Adam rushed to shut out the rain.
“You might want to wait around until this summer storm passes,” he said. “It probably won’t last long. They never do.”
She didn’t want to stay. Not one minute longer. Not alone with Adam Wyatt. She knew his reputation with women. Every time she saw him, he had a different voluptuous beauty on his arm.
So what are you worried about, Blythe? she asked herself. Adam Wyatt wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. You’re hardly his type any more than he’s yours. He likes tall, big-boobed, helpless, brainless lovelies who simper and gush and cling to him like ivy to a brick wall.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Blythe said. “No use getting soaked.” She sat down on the leather sofa, perching her petite body tensely on the edge.
“Want something to drink?” he asked, eyeing the bar. “I could use something stronger than champagne myself.”
“Nothing for me. Thanks.” Blythe glanced outside. The rain poured from the sky. Suddenly the world shook with thunder. She gasped, her body trembling involuntarily.
“Are you afraid of storms?” Adam chuckled as he rounded the bar and lifted a bottle of bourbon from a low shelf.
“No. Not really. I just don’t like than.”
She hated storms, but that fact was none of Adam’s business. Being afraid of thunder and lightning could be seen as a weakness, a female weakness. Her stepfather had made fun of her mother’s fear of storms, telling her what a silly woman she was and what a good thing it was that he was around to take care of her since she couldn’t take care of herself.
Raymond Harold had been a big, handsome man, totally masculine in every way. He had taught Blythe never to trust men, especially big, macho men who liked to take care of women. She’d watched her lovely, kind, intelligent mother dominated and manipulated. No man would ever subjugate her. No man would ever turn her into “the little woman” and convince her she wasn’t capable of making her own decisions.
Adam carried his glass of bourbon with him, sat down on the sofa beside Blythe and took a sip of the mellow liquor. She scooted as far away from him as she could without getting up.
“What do you think I’m going to do, jump on you?” He sloshed the bourbon around inside the glass, then took a hefty swallow, shaking his head and blowing when the liquid blazed a trail down his throat and into his stomach.
“I understand you have that sort of reputation.” Blythe glared at him, issuing him a challenge without realizing what she was doing.
Adam set his drink down on the glass-and-brass coffee table, then turned to face Blythe, laying his hand across the back of the sofa and lifting his right knee onto the cushion. “Ms. Elliott, you don’t have a thing to worry about. When I take a woman, I want her to be just that—a woman. And I want her willing. No, I want her more than willing. I want her begging for it.”
Blythe cursed the blush she felt spreading up her neck and onto her face. She was supposed to be a woman of the world, dammit. She had dated practically every unattached man in north Alabama, and found them all lacking in one way or another. None of the guys she dated wanted to admit that he’d been the first one she had refused to sleep with, so no one, except Joy, knew that Blythe Alana Elliott was a twenty-eight-year-old virgin.
Clutching the thickly padded sofa arm with her hand, Blythe looked at Adam. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why Joy chose you to be Melissa’s godfather. If anything were to happen to Joy and Craig, you’d make the worst possible father substitute in the world.”
“And you’d make a great mother, I suppose?”
“I’d certainly try to be a good mother.” Blythe’s sculptured lavender nails bit into the leather as she squeezed the sofa arm tightly. “Since I’m not married, I can’t say that motherhood is something I’ve thought about very much... until Joy got pregnant. I adore Missy. She’d never want for love and attention from me.”
“Well, believe me, I haven’t given fatherhood a thought since my divorce, but if that little girl ever needed me, I’d be there for her.”
“No little girl should be raised by a man like you!” Blythe jumped up off the couch, intending to go into the bedroom, where she’d deposited her purse when she’d arrived before the party started.
Adam stood, followed her across the living room and into his downstairs bedroom. Stopping abruptly in the doorway, Blythe glanced over her shoulder.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Just what kind of man do you think I am?”
Adam didn’t know why her accusation had stung so badly. Maybe it was because once he had wanted a child of his own desperately. He and Lynn had tried for two years of their five-year marriage, but his wife had never gotten pregnant. Just when he had agreed for them to seek medical advice, he had discovered Lynn’s infidelity. She hadn’t married her lover, but she had eventually remarried, finished law school and was now a successful attorney in Birmingham.
He supposed he had loved Lynn once, when they’d first married and he’d thought she wanted nothing more than to be his wife and the mother of his children. But she hadn’t been satisfied with their comfortable life—a life he had worked hard to give her.
A simple explanation for the demise of their marriage would be to say that they grew apart or grew in different directions. But the way Adam saw it, he had given in to her wants and wishes time and time again. He had compromised his ideals for her, had accepted the fact she wanted a career and had supported her efforts. He’d done everything possible to save their faltering relationship, but the one thing he couldn’t compromise on was fidelity. She’d taken a lover. And Adam had never forgiven her.
Turning slowly to face him, Blythe gazed up into Adam’s stern face, into his stormy brown eyes, and shivered.
“I think you’re a big, macho stud who reaches out and takes what he wants. You believe women have one purpose. You’d like to see us all kept barefoot and pregnant.”
Heat rose up his neck and into his face. How dare this little snip of woman accuse him of being such a jerk. What did she know about him, about the kind of man he was?
“What is it with you?” Adam asked, moving toward Blythe slowly, forcing her to confront him face-to-face. “I’ve never done a damned thing to you, but you attack me every time we meet.”
“I know your type. You’re all alike. All of you. Keep a woman in her place. Tell her what she can and can’t do. Make all her decisions for her, and do it all in the name of love. Your wife probably divorced you because she couldn’t endure another day of being totally dominated.” Blythe backed into the bedroom, cautiously moving away from the big man whose facial expression told her he was on the verge of exploding. “I’m going to get my purse and leave. Occasionally I find your macho man act amusing, but not now. I’m too tired for another sparing match.”
Adam overtook her just as she backed into his king-size bed, the slight jar of her legs against the mattress making her unsteady on her feet. He grabbed her by the shoulders. Thunder boomed. The windows rattled. Blythe cried out, tears filling her eyes. Why did she keep crying? It wasn’t like her to be this emotional over nothing. Admit it, she told herself, Adam Wyatt has you running scared. You want him so bad you can taste it, but you know falling for him would be the biggest mistake of your life. Balling her hands into fists, she longed to strike out at Adam, hoping that by fighting him she could overcome the temptation to throw herself into his arms.
Tightening his hold on her shoulders, he shook her. “Where the hell did you get those ridiculous ideas about my ex-wife and me?”
“I figured it out on my own.” Blythe tried to free herself from his hold, then ceased struggling and swatted at her tearstained face. “I’ve had more than enough of you for one day. Let go of me. I want to leave.”
“Calm down,” he told her. “You can’t go out in the rain, upset and crying. You’re liable to have a wreck.”
Swallowing her tears, Blythe jerked away from Adam and tied to turn around, only to be confronted by the king-size black metal bed. She could feel Adam directly behind her, could feel his strength and power. Dear God, she had to get away from him, get away from the way he made her feel.
“Blythe?” His voice dropped to a deep baritone, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room.
She trembled when he placed his hands on her shoulders, slowly turning her to face him. She hung her head, avoiding eye contact.
“Who the hell made you dislike men so much, and me in particular?” It became apparent to Adam that somewhere along the way, some man had done a number on Blythe Elliott. What other explanation could there be for her actions?
“Not all men—just overbearing macho ones like you. My stepfather made my mother his slave. Wouldn’t let her have a career. She had no life of her own, no income, no way to escape him. He made her totally dependent on him and loved having her beg him for every...” Blythe gulped down her anger at the same time she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her hand trembled. “Raymond was a real son of a bitch!”
Adam reached down, touching her cheeks with his fingertips, brushing away the dampness of her tears. “Do I remind you of your stepfather?”
“Yes!” Blythe shook her head. “No, not really. It’s just that you’re a big man, very masculine, very handsome, and... and women seem to adore you. You’re an old-fashioned, macho guy. Raymond was like that.”
Adam couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt as protective of anyone as he did Blythe at this precise moment. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold and comfort her, make her feel safe and secure. “Don’t confuse me with your stepfather. All men aren’t bastards. Surely you’ve discovered that fact by now. It’s not like there haven’t been men in your—”
Another loud blast of thunder drowned out the sound of Adam’s voice. Gasping, Blythe grabbed Adam around the waist, clinging to him.
He stroked her short hair, the dark auburn strands beneath his hand like heavy, cinnamon silk to the touch. “It’s all right, babe. I’m here. I’ll take care of you.”
Blythe froze the moment she heard his declaration. Glaring at him, she eased her arms from around his waist and punched him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me!”
“We all need somebody to take care of us,” Adam said. “Women need men. Men need women. Needing someone isn’t a weakness, you know. A real woman knows how to give and take.”
She lifted her hands, gripping the lapels of his jacket, staring up at him, her eyes pleading with him—she did need something from him, but Adam wasn’t sure what.
Slowly, he cradled the back of her head with his palm, roaming his other hand down her neck, bringing her body closer to his. He looked into her green-flecked hazel eyes and was lost. Diamond teardrops glistened in her thick reddish brown lashes. Her full, pouty lips opened slightly as she breathed in and out. The sprinkling of tiny freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each pale copper dot.
Blythe Elliott was utterly enchanting.
Hell, what was he thinking? What was he doing? Loosening his hold on her, Adam took a step backward.
“Adam?” Blythe felt lost without him, without the touch of his fingers in her hair, the support of his hand on her back. She didn’t want him to release her. She’d be alone again. So very alone.
“I’H drive you home.” He turned to leave the room. “I’ll get someone to bring your car over to your apartment in the morning.”
Although he had his back to her, Blythe nodded her head. She stood frozen to the spot by the bed for a few minutes, waiting while Adam walked out into the hall. She picked up her purse, hung it over her shoulder and followed him.
“I can drive myself home.” She couldn’t understand the overwhelming urge she had to ask him if she could stay with him. I don’t want to go, Adam. I want to stay here with you. I want you to...
“If you drive yourself, I’ll worry about you,” he said.
When they neared the front door, Adam flipped the light switch, throwing the room into semidarkness. Only the fluorescent light over the bar area remained on. He opened the door, stood to one side and waited for Blythe. She walked outside, hesitating momentarily at the wrought iron gate that opened directly onto the private drive behind the condos. He placed his hand on the small of her back.
Then he realized, too late, that he shouldn’t have touched bet. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to spend the night in his arms.
“You don’t have to leave, you know.” He spread his fingers open wide, touching her lower back and the upper curve pf her buttocks. “You could stay.”
Turning slowly, she stared up at him and saw the undisguised raw passion in his brown eyes, eyes so dark and deep they appeared black. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes, I want you to stay.” He growled the words.
She swallowed hard, wondering if she’d lost her mind. “This is crazy, Adam. We’re crazy. You want me to stay, and... I want to stay”
Sweeping her up into his arms, he lowered his head and claimed her lips in a kiss of total possession. She clung to him, returning the kiss with eagerness. Taking her back inside his condo, he closed the door behind them and shut out the reality both of them had momentarily forgotten.
He carried her into his dark bedroom. A faint, gray light shimmered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shadows fell across the gold-and-black striped coverlet, wavered on the golden cream-colored wall and encompassed the room in a seductive quiet.
Adam laid Blythe down on the bed, then stood over her, staring at her. Suddenly she felt very small and totally helpless.
“Adam, maybe we’re—” She started to say that maybe they were making a mistake, a big mistake, but before she could finish the sentence, he leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was hard and hot and moist.
She returned the kiss, draping her arms around him and trying to drag his body onto hers. Even though she had never made love with a man, she wasn’t totally inexperienced. She’d felt passion before, had known what it was like to want a man, but nothing had prepared her for this uncontrollable need.
He came down over her, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, until she thought she’d die from the pleasure of being so completely consumed. He slipped his big hand beneath her, seeking and finding the zipper pull at the back of her dress. Easing open her lavender linen dress, he lifted her body just enough to insert his hand inside the waistband of her lace half-slip.
When he delved his hand inside her lavender bikini pant es and made contact with her naked buttocks, Blythe groaned against his marauding lips. He nuzzled the side of her neck and whispered her name. She trembled. He sighed.
He brought her hand to his shirt, encouraging her to unbutton it. Slowly, hesitantly at first, she began to undress him while he tugged her dress off her shoulders and down to her waist. All the while, he kept touching her, kissing her, talking to her.
“You’re so little, babe. So delicately made. So fragile. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She threw his shirt on the floor, then drew in a deep breath when she looked at his wide, naked chest. Heavily muscled, covered with dark curling hair, his body beck oned her touch.
“You’re beautiful,” she said, then laid her hand on his washboard-lean stomach.
Adam sucked in his breath. His sex hardened. He lifted himself up and off the bed, then divested himself of the remainder of his clothes.
Blythe had never seen a fully aroused man, but she didn’t hink all men looked like Adam Wyatt. He was big, deeply canned, powerfully built and overwhelmingly male. She swallowed hard, and for one split second wondered if she was woman enough for such a man.
But the moment he lay down beside her and took her in his arms, all doubts and uncertainties vanished like snow melting in the warm sun.
“I want to look at you,” he told her when he unhooked the front closure of her lavender bra.
She nodded her head, wishing she was more experienced. How long was it going to take him to figure out that this was her first time? And if he did, would he stop? If he called a alt to things now, she didn’t think she could bear it.
He spread the bra apart and gazed down at her small, firm breasts. “Perfect,” he said, then covered them with his hands, gently kneading them, circling her nipples with his palms.
She shivered. Her femininity tightened. Lowering his mouth, he teased one nipple while he stroked its mate to a point between his thumb and forefinger. Lifting her hips off the bed, she slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself intimately against him.
His mouth and hands moved over her swiftly, taking a speedy inventory of every luscious inch from face to toes, as he discarded the remainder of her clothes. Blythe succumbed to her own desire to fondle him, to discover the secrets of his manhood. They explored each other with a hunger neither could deny nor restrain. The fever burning hot inside them blazed out of control.
“I can’t wait.” He panted the words against her breast. “Next time, we’ll go slower. I promise.”
Blythe ached with such a wild need, she made no protest when he mounted her and sought entrance into her body. She was surrounded by him. By the bulk of his massive shoulders. By the aura of masculine power he possessed. By his hot, musky smell, his hypnotizing black eyes and the mesmerizing tone of his deep voice.
“I want you,” was all she could say.
She was warm and moist and willing, her arms holding him close, yet her body resisted his invasion. She was tight, so very tight. And he was on the verge of exploding. He had wanted her so badly, for so long, that being inside her was his only goal in life at this precise moment.
Lifting her hips, he thrust into her, then stopped when he realized the truth. He’d thought she was experienced, that she’d had a legion of lovers.
A hot, searing pain pierced her. Blythe gasped, tears filling her eyes. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except making love with Adam.
He partially withdrew from her. “Why didn’t you tell me, babe?”
She bit her bottom lip, then swallowed her tears and reached up to caress his face. “Because I wanted you, and I was afraid that if you knew, you—”
He silenced her with a kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth at the same moment he delved deeply into her body, taking her completely. She groaned into his mouth, wanting the discomfort to end, but not wanting him to stop.
He coaldn’t make it last, couldn’t take the time she needed, couldn’t give her complete pleasure this time. He took her quickly, wild with the need. His climax rocketed through him like blasts of dynamite. When the last aftershock subsided, he slid to her side, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her gently.
Cuddling against him, she felt joyous at having given Adam such intense pleasure, and yet she felt bereft, wanting to experience that same earth-shattering ecstasy.
“The next time will be for you. All for you,” he said. “I was too hungry for you, wanted you too desperately to make it perfect.”
He caressed her hip while they lay together in each other’s arms. He thought about all the things he was going to do to her, all the wonderful things he was going to teach her. The first time, he’d lost control. The first time, she’d been a virgin.
Adam jerked upright in bed. Blythe laid her hand on his back. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
The realization that he hadn’t used a condom hit him square in the gut. How the hell could he have been so stubid? He always took the proper precaution. Not once since his divorce had he made love to a woman without protec tion.
“I’m okay,” he said, lying down beside her and pulling her into his arms. “Everything’s fine.”
When he made love to her again—and he intended to make love to her all night—he’d make sure he didn’t take any more chances.
Two
“Mr. Wyatt, there’s a Ms. Blythe Elliott here to see you sir.” Sandra Pennington’s voice sounded a bit shaky, and that was unusual for the formidable middle-aged woman who’d been Adam’s secretary for the past ten years. “She insists on seeing you immediately.”
Blythe Elliott? Here? At his office? Insisting on seeing him? Would wonders never cease?
Adam’s stomach tightened into knots. What was she do ing here? They hadn’t been together in over two months—not since the night they’d both lost their senses and made love like a couple of wild animals who couldn’t get enough of each other.
Just the memory of that night aroused Adam. And the last thing he wanted was to get hot and bothered remem bering what it had been like becoming Blythe’s first lover Damn, he’d thought she was experienced, and he’d gotten the surprise of his life.
When he’d awakened the next morning, Blythe was gone only the scent of her remained in his bed. He’d tried calling her. She’d hung up on him time and time again. He’d gone to her apartment. She’d slammed the door in his face. He’d cornered her at her Petals Plus florist, only to be told that she hated him and never wanted to see him again.
It had taken him more than one try before he finally got the picture. Whatever had happened between them the night of little Melissa Simpson’s christening had been an aberration, a fluke, a chance happening. Adam had accepted that fact and moved on with his life. At least he’d tried to move on. He had wined and dined several lovely ladies over the last two months, but every time the mood turned serious, he’d see a pair of big hazel eyes looking up at him, he’d hear those sweet little sounds of pleasure Blythe had made when he’d taken her, and he’d feel those small, fragile bones, that soft, sleek freckled flesh he’d caressed the whole night through.
“Tell Ms. Elliott to come in.”
Should he stand? Should he remain seated? Should he be friendly or act nonchalant? Should he ask why she was paying him a visit or just say it was good to see her?
Remaining seated, he leaned over his desk and rested his clasped hands in front of him.
She swept into the office like a tiny whirlwind, her straw bag clutched to her side, her chin tilted defiantly, her gaze riveted directly to his face.
Whatever her reason for coming to his office, Adam’s gut instincts told him this was no social call. It was a confrontation.
Blythe looked even prettier than he remembered. Her short cinnamon red hair shone with a healthy vibrance. Her skin had tanned a rich gold, her freckles darkened to muted copper dots on her nose, cheeks and shoulders. She wore a yellow miniskirt, a matching peach-and-yellow polka-dot blouse and a pair of small gold hoops in her ears.
“If I’m interrupting something, I apologize,” she said. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
“Sit down, Blythe. Tell me why you’re here.” Of all the women he’d known over the years, why was this little hellion the only one he’d been unable to walk away from and forget? Because she’d been a virgin? Because he’d carelessly forgotten to use protection the first time they’d made love?
She sat tensely on the edge of the white leather-and-chrome chair to the left of Adam’s huge, black metal desk. Easing her purse into her lap, she clutched it as if it were a lifeline.
“Would you like some coffee? Or tea? A soft drink?” What was wrong with her? he wondered. Why was she so nervous?
“No, nothing. Tanks.”
“How have you been?” he asked.
“I’ve been just fine. How about you?”
“No complaints,” he said. “Look, it isn’t that I’m not glad to see you, but your visit comes as quite a surprise. Two months ago, you refused to see me. You wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone. I have to admit that I’m curious as to why you’re here today.”
Oh, this was going to be more difficult than she’d thought. Adam was being nice. Not too nice, but nice enough. After the way she’d treated him, he had every right not to speak to her. But what should she have done? Good grief, they had made a monumental mistake—the biggest mistake of her life. She still didn’t know what had come over her that evening at Adam’s condo. Why, after resisting temptation for two years, had she given in that night? One minute they’d been arguing and she’d dislikes everything his powerful, macho image represented and the next thing she knew she was practically begging him to make love to her. One minute she’d wanted to run from him, and the next minute she couldn’t get close enough.
“I want you to know that I don’t hold you responsible.” Blythe lowered her eyes, not able to continue looking directly at Adam. “It was my fault. I should have known better.” She stood up. Her purse fell to the floor. “I did know better, but I’d never felt anything so powerful before. I just didn’t know how to handle wanting someone so much.”
Adam shoved back his chair and stood. “Why should we rehash that night now, after two months, when you’ve refused to see me or speak to me before today?”
Bending over, she picked up her bag and flung it in the chair she’d just vacated, then turned to face him. He seemed so distant, so in control, so much the Adam Wyatt she’d known and avoided for two years. “I’m not here to discuss what happened a couple of months ago. Well, in a way, I am. That is to say, the reason I’m here is to tell you that, well, after we... after we—”
“Made love,” Adam said.
“Yes, after we made love, I knew you would regret it as much as I did, and I realized that you’d feel responsible, even guilty because I’d been a... well, I’d been—”
“The word is virgin, babe. You were a virgin.”
“Yes, well, I felt there was no point in our blaming ourselves for something that wasn’t your fault or mine. It just happened.”
“It happened three times.” The statement was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from speaking. Damn! What was the point of reminding her? Of reminding himself?
Blythe covered her face with her hands. Blowing out a loud breath, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. “This isn’t easy for me. Okay? It’s taken all the courage I could muster to come here today to tell you.”
“To tell me what?” he asked. “That you don’t blame me for our night of passion two months ago?”
“No, I don’t blame you. I blame myself.” Blythe balled her hands into fists at her sides. “I don’t expect you to do anything. And I’m not asking for anything. I just thought you had a right to know.”
Adam glared at her, not quite sure what the hell she was talking about, but getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You thought I had a right to know what?”
“I’m pregnant!” There, she’d said it. The worst was over. Or so she thought.
“You’re what?”
Adam rounded his desk so quickly that Blythe didn’t have a chance to get away from him before he grabbed her by the shoulders, his fierce grip jerking her forward. He stared at her. Her eyes opened wide as she bit down on her bottom lip.
“You’re what?” he repeated.
“I’m pregnant.”
She was pregnant! No, it wasn’t possible. Who was he kidding? Of course it was possible.
He ran his hands down her arms, clasping her wrists with his fingers. “I’m sorry, Blythe. I never meant for this to happen.”
She shrugged, tilting her head to one side, a tentative smile quivering on her lips. “I know. I told you that I don’t blame you.”
“You should!” Releasing his hold on her, he turned away, slamming his big fists down on top of his desk. “In all the years since my divorce, I’ve never made love to a woman without using protection. Not once. Not until that night. With you. The first time.”
“I didn’t use anything, either,” Blythe said, wanting to touch Adam’s back, waiting to reach out and place her hand on his massive shoulders. “I mean, I wasn’t on the Pill or anything.”
Lifting his clenched fists, he turned and braced his hip on the edge of the desk. “Well, we can’t go back and change what happened. God knows I would if I could. We’ve got to deal with the consequences, to make decisions about how we’re going to handle this situation.”
Blythe didn’t know what she had expected him to say when she told him. Deny that he was the father? Tell her it was her problem? Or had she secretly hoped he’d be happy, that he’d lift her in his arms, kiss her and tell her he loved her and wanted their child?
But Adam didn’t love her any more than she loved him. If he could go back and change what had happened, he would. He’d just said so himself. And if she could go back to that night, what would she do? Unconsciously, she slid her hand down the front of her skirt, her open palm crovering her stomach.
“I suppose you’ve considered all the options,” Adam said. Dear God, what would he do if she said she planned to have an abortion? He’d tell her she couldn’t, that he didn’t want her to destroy the child they had created together.
“Yes, I discussed options with my doctor and with Joy.”
“You told Joy? She and Craig know?”
“I told Joy yesterday. She’s the one who convinced me to come here today and tell you. She promised not to say anything to Craig until after I’d talked to you.”
“Have you made a decision?” He knew he had already made a decision about the baby. It didn’t require any lengthy soul-searching. He’d gotten Blythe pregnant. She was carrying his child. He’d marry her. That was the only honorable thing to do.
“I decided against having an abortion.”
Relief spread through Adam. His tight muscles relaxed. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to do that.”
Closing her eyes, Blythe said a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t expected her to dispose of their mistake.
“My doctor and I discussed the possibility of giving the baby up for adoption.” Dr. Meyers had tried to discuss adoption with her, but she’d adamantly refused. She had no intention of giving away her child.
Would she give his child to perfect strangers? Dammit, he wouldn’t let her! If Adam had to, he’d do as his father had done and raise the child by himself. “Adoption? Don’t even consider giving away my child.”
“I didn’t consider it. Not really. I’m going to have my baby and I’m going to keep her.” Blythe had decided that the baby was a girl. She couldn’t imagine herself raising a boy—some rough and rowdy little black-eyed boy who’d grow up to look just like Adam.
Adam let out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re going to keep the baby?”
“I came here to tell you because Joy pointed out the fact that, as the father, you did have a right to know.” Glancing away from Adam, Blythe reached into the chair and picked up her purse. “I don’t expect you to get involved. I’m not here asking for any kind of support.”
“Just what are you trying to say?” Standing, he grabbed her by the arm as she turned from him. “You waltz in here and tell me that you’re going to have my child, but you don’t expect me to get involved. Well, babe, you’d better think again. That’s my baby, too.” He looked directly at Blythe’s flat stomach, his fingers itching to reach out and touch her, to lay a protective hand over his child.
“You want to be involved?” She stared at him, not sure she had heard him correctly.
“Damn right, I do.”
“How is that possible, Adam? I don’t think there’s any way you and I can share a child.”
“Well, we’d better figure out a way, hadn’t we?”
She gasped when he laid his hand across her stomach. The touch was so innocent and yet at the same time so compellingly intimate.
His child. He’d given this woman his baby—and she wanted it. He smiled, thinking about Blythe referring to their baby as her. A daughter. His daughter. He liked the sound of that. His daughter.
“In what... seven months... our child will be a reality? I don’t think we should waste time on a big, fancy affair, do you? Something simple, but elegant. Craig can stand up for me and Joy can be your matron of honor.”
What? Surely she had misunderstood what he’d said. It sounded as if he were planning a wedding. “Do you expect me to marry you?”
“Of course I do. Our child isn’t going to come into this world a bastard, her mother and father unmarried.”
“But—but we can’t get married.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t love each other. We don’t even like each other very much.” Blythe eased away from Adam’s possessive hand, removing her body from his reach. “Until the night we... er...made love, we couldn’t be in the same room together without getting into an argument.”
“We don’t argue when we’re in bed together. All we do is—”
“Don’t say it! I know what happened that night. We both went crazy, but I’m not crazy now, and I know I can’t marry you. It would be wrong.”
“It would be wrong not to marry. Can’t you see? Even if you and I aren’t in love, even if we have our differences, we owe it to our child to get married. And we owe it to ourselves. After all, Decatur is a pretty old-fashioned Southern town, you know, and we both have reputations to uphold. Hell, you coach a girls’ softball team, don’t you? And I’m on the board of education.”
“I don’t like your type of man, Adam. Even if we both lose our reputations, it would be better than trying to live together. We’d wind up killing each other.”
“You didn’t dislike me the night you conceived my child. You gave a good impression of a woman who liked everything about me.” Adam laughed when he heard her gasp.
“That’s typical of your type, reminding me of what a fool I was. I was very emotional that evening. I’d just become a godmother. Joy named her baby after me, and I was all emotional and everything. Then the thunderstorm blew up... and... and I...I—”
“Acted like a woman. A real woman. Soft and vulnerable and loving.”
“I made the mistake of falling right into your big, strong arms. You were...were...irresistible, and for the first time, I gave in to my desires. And just look what happened!” Determined not to cry, Blythe clamped her teeth tightly together.
Adam reached out for her; she backed farther away from him. “You want me to take the blame?” he asked. “You want me to say it was my fault? All right, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have made love to you. I knew how emotional you were, how vulnerable. But dammit, Blythe, I didn’t know you’d never been with a man. I thought you’d had sex with all those idiots you dated.”
“Well, I hadn’t. And why I couldn’t resist you, I’ll never know.”
Adam grinned. “You couldn’t resist me, huh?”
She flung her purse at him. It bounced off his chest and hit the floor. Oh, damn! Why had she just admitted that she hadn’t been able to resist him that night? She was such a fool. “Ooo...hhh!”
“We should have an exciting marriage.” Reaching down, Adam picked up her purse and held it out to her. “We can fight all day and make love all night.”
Blythe grabbed her purse. “I am not going to marry you.”
“If you think I’m suggesting a love match, then stop worrying.” Adam realized he’d have to play things just right or Blythe would walk out of his office and out of his life, taking his child with her.
Blythe held her purse against her chest, her arms crisscrossed at her waist. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that we get married to give our baby legitimacy, to give her two parents, and to maintain our good reputations. We both have a lot to lose as unwed parents.” He watched Blythe as she considered what he’d said. She was weakening just a little. All he had to do was continue persuading her. “When we get married, we can have separate bedrooms, if that’s what you want.”
“What kind of marriage would that be?”
“A marriage in name only. For the sake of the baby. After she... or he...is born, we can get an amicable divorce and share joint custody of our child. That shouldn’t be any problem.”
“No, that shouldn’t be any problem,” she mumbled. “Would everybody know... I mean would we have to tell people that...”
“Nobody needs to know anything about our personal business. If you want to tell Joy, it would be all right with me.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t come here expecting you to propose marriage.” Liar! her conscience screamed at her. Deep down, in your heart of hearts, you came here to Adam hoping he’d find a way to make everything all right. First you break your own cardinal rule about not having sex, then you get yourself pregnant, and now you’re considering marrying the big jerk.
“Think about it. Talk to Joy.” Adam glanced down at his watch. “It’s ten-thirty. Take all day. I’ll pick you up for dinner tonight and we’ll discuss the situation and make plans.”
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt just to discuss the situation. Okay, pick me up around seven.” After all, what harm would it do just to consider his proposal?
Blythe walked away from him. Adam ran after her, halting her just as she opened the door. “Who’s your doctor?”
“Dr. Meyers. Why do you ask?”
“Thought I’d give him a call and—”
“And see if I’m really pregnant?” She raised her hand against him, wanting nothing more than to slap his face. How dare he think she would humiliate herself this way if she wasn’t really pregnant.
Adam grabbed her arm in midair. “To find out what I can do to make this pregnancy easier for you.”
“Oh.” Blythe jerked her arm away from Adam. “Dr. Meyers, in Decatur. I go back for a checkup in a month.”
Adam clasped her chin in his hand. “I’ll see you tonight. Until then, take care of yourself and my little girl.” He brushed a kiss across her lips.
She stared at him, not returning the kiss, but not fighting the sweet intimacy either. “Tonight,” she murmured.
Adam watched Blythe exit the outer office where his secretary sat, staring back and forth from Blythe to him.
“I’m getting married, Sandra. That little redheaded spitfire is my future wife.”
“Congratulations, sir. I had no idea you were seriously involved with anyone.”
“Oh, I’m as seriously involved with Blythe Elliott as a man can be.”
“He asked you to marry him!” Kneeling on the floor in front of her daughter’s musical swing, Joy Simpson looked up at Blythe.
“I don’t know what I expected.” Blythe laid her purse on the work counter in the back room of her florist shop. “But it certainly wasn’t a marriage proposal.”
Joy wiped the drool from Melissa’s rosebud mouth, then stood and wound the swing. A lullaby tinkled sweetly from the music box. Melissa’s eyelids drooped.
“Well, I’ve always considered Adam an honorable man—”
“Ha! If he’d been honorable that night after Missy’s christening party, I wouldn’t be pregnant right now.”
Joy placed her hand on Blythe’s shoulder. “It takes two, you know. You were a willing participant in what happened that night.”
“Too willing!” Gritting her teeth together, Blythe huffed, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t marry Adam.” She rounded the corner of her work counter, removed her purse from the top and slid it onto a bottom shelf.
“I don’t think you should make such a hasty decision,” Joy said. “After all, you haven’t had time to think things through.”
“I don’t need any time to think about it. I’m not going to marry Adam. We’ve already made one stupid mistake. It would be ridiculous to make another one.”
“Why would marrying Adam be a stupid mistake?”
“How can you ask me that?” Picking up the stack of morning mail and a silver letter opener off her corner desk, Blythe ripped apart the first envelope. “You know how we feel about each other, how we’ve felt about each other ever since we met. He doesn’t approve of the type of woman I am and I certainly don’t approve of the type of man he is. In short, Adam Wyatt and I have nothing in common. We’d make each other miserable.”
“Well, I will admit you two always did seem to strike sparks off each other. Adam is one of the most old-fashioned guys I know and you’re certainly a modern woman. But y’all definitely have something in common now.”
“What?”
“A child you created together.”
“Oh, that.” Blythe sighed. “But I still can’t marry him. He’s already issuing me orders and we aren’t even engaged. I’ve spent my entire adult life steering clear of entanglements that could lead to marriage and slavery to some chest-beating Neanderthal. You understand why I can’t marry Adam, don’t you?”
“I understand your reasoning, and I agree that it’s usually a mistake to marry someone without love, but you are pregnant.”
“So?” Shrugging, Blythe opened another envelope, glanced at it and tossed it into the wastebasket. “Single women all across the country are having children alone. There’s no reason why I can’t do it. After all, I’m a mature woman of twenty-eight, the owner of a fairly successful business and my best friend will be at my side throughout the entire pregnancy. Right?”
“Yes, of course, but what about after the baby’s born?” Joy asked. “Craig and I share all the responsibilities of caring for Missy.”
“I can take care of a child without a husband.”
“Well, don’t forget that I’m only working here two days a week now. Who’s going to help you take care of the baby when you’re at work? You could bring her with you, I suppose, the way I do Missy right now, but doing that every day would be difficult. Could you afford good day care?”
“I’ll handle those problems when the time comes. And somehow I’ll figure out a solution.”
“You’re forgetting several important things.”
“What things?” Blythe asked.
“Remember where you live and who you are,” Joy said. “This isn’t New York or L.A. This is Decatur, Alabama. We’re living in the heart of the Bible Belt and upstanding citizens who patronize your florist shop don’t approve of unwed mothers.”
“I know.” Frowning, Blythe clicked her teeth and shook her head. “Adam has already pointed out that we have reputations to uphold and an innocent child’s future to consider.”
“Adam is the other important thing you’re forgetting. He’s going to want to be a part of the baby’s life. Just because you aren’t married to him, doesn’t eliminate his rights as the child’s father.”
“Just what are you advising me to do?” Blythe separated the bills from other business correspondence, wrapping a rubber band around each stack.
“Agree to a marriage in name only until after the baby’s born. Then get a divorce. Let Adam give the child his name and you two work out child support payments and visitation rights. If you and Adam can learn to get along, it will be the best possible gift the two of you could give your child.”
“That’s exactly the solution Adam suggested. But maybe we could work things out without getting married. If we get married, he’s going to want me to change, and I know I’ll want him to change. Each of us will try to make the other become what we want in a mate. Besides, I don’t know if it’s possible for Adam and me to get along.”
Joy smiled. “I think you and Adam have already proved that you can get along. At least for one night.”
“Joy!”
“And what’s wrong with people changing a little? I know that Adam tends to be a bit old-fashioned, but with some effort on your part, I’ll bet you can modernize his thinking.”
“I seriously doubt that.” Blythe picked up the two stacks of correspondence, handed one to Joy and carried the other toward the small office space at the back of the store.
Flipping through the mail, Joy followed Blythe. “If you’ve already made up your mind, I don’t understand why you agreed to have dinner with him.”
“I couldn’t think straight after he said he wanted to marry me. He took me off guard. I didn’t expect him to take the blame for what happened. It just never occurred to me that he really would want to be involved with the baby.”
Shaking her head, Joy sighted. “You really don’t know Adam at all, do you? Because he’s big, good-looking, very masculine and a real take-charge kind of guy he’s always reminded you of your stepfather. You never gave him a chance. Surely the night the two of you made love, you realized that Adam’s not like Raymond.”
Blythe tossed the stack of bills atop the desk beside the adding machine and computer printer. “I don’t think he’s just like Raymond. I know Adam would never verbally abuse his wife or dominate her so completely that she couldn’t think for herself, but—”
“But what?”
“But Adam and I are total opposites. He’d probably expect me to cook dinner every night and do his laundry and things like that. Marriage would be a mistake for us.”
“Are you sure?” Joy asked.
“I’m sure. There’s no way I’ll ever agree to marry Adam.”
“Blythe is pregnant, and you’re the father?” Craig Simpson’s eyes widened, his lips twitched and he coughed a couple of times trying to keep from laughing.
“What the hell’s so funny?” Adam paced around his office like a caged tiger. “I got a woman pregnant. And not just any woman, but Blythe Elliott.” Rolling his eyes heavenward, Adam shook his head. “The one woman on earth who hates my guts!”
“She must not have hated you the night y’all made love,” Craig said.
“I don’t know how she felt about me that night.” Adam raked his fingers through his thick, silver-streaked black hair. “I’ve gone over that night a thousand times in my mind. Even before Blythe’s revelation today, I’ve thought about what happened, trying to figure out why we wound up making love. One minute we were arguing, like we always do, then the next minute, a summer storm came up. She’d been crying a lot that day. I wanted to comfort her, and—”
“And the comforting got out of hand?”
“Something like that. It was as if we’d both become two different people, and we wanted each other so much we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“Opposites attract. Just look at Joy and me.”
“Yeah, well, you and Joy were attracted to each other and liked each from the moment y’all met, and you two fell deeply in love. It wasn’t that way for Blythe and me.” Adam continued pacing back and forth from the wide expanse of windows behind his desk to the closed door that led to his secretary’s outer office.
“You and Blythe were attracted to each other from the very beginning, but instead of admitting it, you both fought it. That could be the reason y’all argue every time you’re around each other.”
“Blythe is not my type. I prefer women who like for a man to be a man. I want a woman who isn’t on the defensive all the time. A woman whose career isn’t more important to her than her marriage.” Adam slumped down in the chair behind his desk. “And I’m not her type, either. I remind her too much of her stepfather, whom she apparently despised.”
“So marriage is out of the question, huh?” Leaning his head back against the soft leather of the chair, Craig stretched out his legs in front of him.
“Not necessarily,” Adam said. “I think Blythe and I should marry. For the child’s sake. And to maintain our respectability. We both have business reputations to consider and we’re involved in community affairs. It would be a marriage in name only and we’ll divorce after the baby’s born. Then we’ll share custody.”
“Has Blythe agreed to all that?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure she will. After all, it’s a good deal for her. I’ll give our child my name as well as my love and financial support for the rest of his or her life. And I’ll be there throughout the pregnancy to take care of Biythe.”
“Blythe isn’t the type who’d accept a man’s offer to take care of her.” Craig laughed. “She’s very independent. Joy told me that once Blythe got away from her stepfather and mother, she refused to take anything from them. And Raymond Harold wasn’t a poor man. Blythe worked her way through college and has been totally self-supporting since she was eighteen.”
“Hey, it’s not as if I’m offering to keep her up for the rest of her life. I’ll have you draw up the papers. We’ll spell everything out in black and white so there won’t be any misunderstandings.”
“Sounds romantic to me.” Craig stared up at the coiling, missing Adam’s menacing glare.
“There’s nothing romantic about my relationship with Blythe and you know it. I got her pregnant so I intend to take care of the situation.”
“As I recall, you once told me that after what Lynn did to you, you had no desire to ever remarry.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but I also had no intention of getting a woman pregnant.”
“What if Blythe refuses your generous offer?” Craig asked. “She may decide that she can get along just fine without you and your money.”
“Oh, she’s going to marry me. And she’s going to agree to all the conditions. The divorce after the child is born. The generous child support. And joint custody. I’m not going to give her any choice.” Adam crossed his arms over his chest.
“It sounds like you don’t know Blythe Elliott very well if you think you can bulldoze right over her,” Craig said. “She’s not the type to take orders, especially from a man.”
“I’m not just any man. I’m the father of her baby. I have certain legal rights, don’t I?”
“I suggest you don’t mention anything about your legal rights to Blythe when you take her out to dinner this evening. Threatening her would be like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull.”
“I have no intention of making any threats as long as Blythe is willing to be reasonable, and I think she will be. After all, it’ll be in her best interest to marry me.”
“I’m not sure Blythe will see it that way.”
Leaning over and placing his hands, palms flat, atop his desk, Adam stared at Craig. “Make no mistake about it, Blythe is going to marry me. Neither of us planned on becoming parents, on having to share a child. I’m sure I’d be at the bottom of her list for possible father candidates, and I can’t see Blythe as a mother. She’s not nurturing and maternal the way Joy is.”
“Just take my advice, old buddy. Tread lightly where Blythe is concerned. If you push too hard, she’ll dig in her heels and fight you to the bitter end.”
“I’ll be my most charming self tonight, and I’ll make the mother of my unborn child an offer she can’t refuse.” Shoving back his chair, Adam stood, shot out his hand and grinned at Craig. “You’re going to be my best man. Let’s shake on it. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what date Blythe and I decide on tonight.”
Three
Blythe knew the minute she took a bite of the orange roughy that she was going to be sick. She’d been foolish to order the fish blackened, but it was one of her favorites. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the idea of this terrible nausea hitting her at odd times of the day and night.
“Excuse me.” Shoving her chair away from the table, she stood quickly and made a mad dash through the dimly lit restaurant, only to stop short, realizing she had no idea were the ladies’ room was located.
Grabbing a startled waiter by the arm, Blythe felt a sour, burning taste rise in her throat. “Bathroom,” she gasped, almost afraid to open her mouth.
“Around the corner, to the right,” the wide-eyed young man replied.
Adam caught up with her just as she swung open the door marked Ladies. When he clasped her shoulder in his big hand, she jerked away from him.
“What the devil’s the matter?” he asked.
She didn’t have time for explanations. If she didn’t make it to a sink or commode within a couple of seconds, she would be barfing all over Adam’s sleek Italian loafers. She ran inside the rest room, siamming the door in his face.
Adam pounded on the door. “Blythe, are you all right?”
What the hell had happened? They had been eating a delicious meal and actually sharing a pleasant conversation about music. They’d discovered they both shared a love for good jazz. Then all of a sudden, Blythe’s face had turned a rather odd shade of greenish white and she’d run from the table as if she were being chased by demons.
“Blythe!”
“May I help you, sir?” a waiter asked.
“Not unless you can find a lady willing to go inside there to see what’s wrong with my date.”
“Is the young lady sick, sir?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I need someone to go in there and find out what’s going on.”
“Well, sir, I’ll see what I can do.” The waiter walked away.
“Blythe? For the love of Mike, woman, will you answer me!” Adam yelled.
He waited for what seemed like an eternity before an attractive brunette brusbed past him and opened the ladies’ room door.
“Ma’am.” Adam was too worried about Blythe to give a thought to appearing foolish to a stranger.
“Yes.” Turning, she smiled, her brown eyes surveying Adam from head to toe.
Any other time he would have been flattered by the woman’s blatant appraisal and obvious interest, but right this minute, his only thoughts were of Blythe’s well-being.
“My date seems to have taken ill. She’s in there, and I have no way of knowing whether or not she needs my help.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, I see. Tell me what your date looks like and I’ll check on her for you.”
“She’s a petite redhead. About five-two. And she’s wearing a black-and-white halter dress.”
“I’ll check on her.”
“Thanks.”
Adam waited a little longer, sweat popping out on his forehead and upper lip. Was it normal for pregnant women to act so strangely? he wondered. Of course, he’d heard about morning sickness, but it wasn’t morning now. It was after eight in the evening.
The brown-eyed stranger cracked open the rest room door, peeped out and motioned for Adam.
“Is she all right?” he asked.
“She’s been throwing up. She’s awfully sick. I took her a damp paper towel, but I swear she looks like she’s going to faint any minute now.”
Without considering the possible consequences of his actions, Adam shoved the bathroom door completely open and brushed past the brunette. The door to the middle stall stood open. Blythe leaned over the commode, retching.
Grabbing the wet paper towel out of her hand, Adam wiped her face with it. “Morning sickness in the evening? Dammit, Blythe, do you have to do everything backward?”
Gulping for air, she slapped at the arm Adam had draped around her shoulder. “Leave me alone.”
“I’m taking you home and we’re calling Dr. Meyers.”
“I’ll be all right. The nausea is better. I don’t think I’ll throw up again.”
“Come on, then.” Adam lifted Blythe in his arms. “You scared the devil out of me rushing off the way you did.”
“For goodness’ sakes, put me down.” The words came out in a whisper. Blythe noticed the tall, willowy brunette smiling at them as they passed her on their way out of the ladies’ room. “Have you lost your mind!”
Two waiters and the restaurant manager stood in the corridor.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Wyatt?” the manager asked. “How may we be of assistance?”
“Charge dinner to my credit card, and make sure there’s a nice tip included,” Adam said. “I’m afraid Ms. Elliott is experiencing a little upset stomach. I’m taking her home.”
“Oh, dear me. Surely there was nothing wrong with her meal,” the manager said.
“Not at all” The manager and both waiters followed Adam through the restaurant and out the front door. “My future wife and I are going to have a baby and she’s just suffering a little morning sickness at the wrong time of day.”
“Oh!” All three men said in unison.
While waiting for the parking valet to bring around Adam’s bright red Lotus, Adam held Blythe in his arms, refusing to put her on her feet despite her squirming and murmured threats.
The fresh air felt wonderful on Blythe’s face. She took a deep breath. Dammit, this being pregnant wasn’t much fun.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, wishing he’d put her down, infuriated at the idea that they were making spectacles of themselves in public.
“Do what?” he asked innocently.
“Tell the whole world that we’re having a baby. Together.”
“We are having a baby,” he said. “Together.”
“I know we are, but you didn’t have to announce it to the whole world, did you?”
“Are you ashamed that you’re carrying my child?”
“Yes! No! I’m not ashamed of anything. I’m just embarrassed that you proclaimed loud and clear that I’m pregnant, and then carried me out of the restaurant with dozens of people watching. What about our reputations that you were so damn worried about?”
“The fact is you are pregnant, and everyone is going to know in a few months.” When the valet parked the car and opened the passenger door, Adam placed Blythe in the seat. “Besides, we didn’t want Mr. Dennison to think his delicious food had made you sick, did we? And I did tell them that you were my future wife.”
Closing the door, Adam went around and slipped behind the wheel.
“For your information, Adam Wyatt, there is no connect time of day to have morning sickness. It’s just a term they use to describe the nausea that can hit a pregnant woman day or night.” Blythe slapped at his hands when he double-checked her safety belt. “And I’m not your future wife! I haven’t agreed to marry you”
“Will you stop hitting me? I’m getting sick and tired of your slapping me every time I try to help you.” Adam started the engine and spun out of the parking lot.
“Then stop trying to be so helpful.” Blythe crossed her arms over her chest and sat there sulking. Dinner in Huntsville with Adam had been a mistake. When he’d stopped by her apartment to pick her up, she should have told him then and there that she wasn’t going to marry him. If she had, the whole fiasco with dinner never would have happened.
Hell! Adam thought. He’d never known such a disagreeable woman. Didn’t she realize that he’d been concerned when she rushed away from the dinner table, that he was still concerned? She was sick because she was pregnant. And he was the man who’d gotten her pregnant.
If only she’d stop resisting him and allow him to help her. Was it going to be like this the whole time she was pregnant, throughout their entire marriage? If so, things weren’t going to be easy for either of them. He wasn’t used to catering to a woman’s whims, and it was more than apparent that Blythe was unaccustomed to a man taking care of her.
Neither of them spoke a word on the ride from the restaurant to Blythe’s home on the second floor of a neat, but not so modern, apartment building in southwestern Decatur. By the time Adam got out of the Lotus and made his way around to the passenger door, Blythe had already opened the door and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. She held her house key in her hand.
Oh, yeah, he’d forgotten. She didn’t want him opening doors for her, or ordering for her in the restaurant, or doing anything that hinted of old-fashioned good manners.
Blythe gasped suddenly. The night sky swam around and around her. Groaning, she clutched the car door. “Not again.”
She hated for Adam to see her like this. Sick and weak. He’d think she was just another helpless female. And that was the last thing Blythe Elliott would ever allow herself to become. Helpless. Her mother had been totally helpless. A weak female who wouldn’t fight back when her big, macho husband ordered her around, ridiculed her and turned her into a virtual slave. Blythe couldn’t remember her mother ever standing up to her husband. What she did remember, all too well, were the nights she had lain awake for hours listening to her mother’s pitiful sobs. She had sworn to herself that no man would ever control her life.

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