Having Gabriel's Baby. Kristin Morgan
Читать онлайн книгу.
could she recall every little detail of their lovemaking and yet be unable to recall leaving the cantina with him to go get married? And, yet, something in the back of her mind told her that was exactly what she had done. The question was, had they succeeded?
The tension in her neck was so great that she couldn’t take it anymore.
Slipping out of her shoes, she turned on the water in her shower and then began unbuttoning her blouse. Moments later she slipped under the warm spray and began shampooing her hair. After stepping out and blowing dry her short shag hairstyle, she dressed in a pale green soft cotton robe. She plodded her way barefoot to the beige sofa in the den, and curled up on one corner with a blanket and pillow and fell sound asleep.
At some point, the doorbell finally woke her, and it became immediately clear that her caller had already grown impatient with her and as a result had his or her finger currently glued to the chime button. Throwing back the light blanket, Joelle groaned and somehow got to her feet. Without a doubt, she knew who it was.
Still, as a security measure, she peeked through the peephole first and then opened the door. The moment she did, her father came barreling across the threshold as if he were a tyrant on a rampage—which was normal behavior for him. “Where have you been, Joelle?” he demanded, his ruddy complexion reddened with anger. “I’ve been calling for days. Didn’t you get any of my messages?”
If there was ever the slightest chance of Joelle getting rid of her headache anytime soon, it had just quickly skedaddled out of her reach. “I’ve been out of town, Father,” she said, dryly, dropping back down on the sofa and laying her pounding head back against the soft cushion. At any minute, she felt certain that her head was going to explode into a million pieces.
“That’s no excuse,” her father declared, standing over her and glaring down as if he was a mighty eagle and she, an insignificant little sparrow. His voice seemed to vibrate through her aching head like the strumming of a high-pitched guitar. “I was worried sick about you,” he continued as his hands came to rest on his hips. But, actually, from Joelle’s point of view, his arrogant pose said otherwise.
“I wish I could believe that,” she replied, listlessly, without bothering to lift her head and look at him. Instead she placed her fingertips against her temples and began massaging them.
She was still angry at her father. And hurt, too. And she had every right to be. It was time that Sylvan Ames realized that she was a real person with feelings and not just someone put on this earth for him to ridicule when the mood struck.
“Joelle, have you any idea of how embarrassed I’ve been by your sudden absence from the marketing firm? Everyone has been asking about you and I’ve had to lie to them about your whereabouts.”
Opening her eyes, Joelle lifted her head and met his stare. “Really? Well, why didn’t you just tell them the truth, that I’d resigned on the spot the day I walked out and that I’m no longer an employee of your company?”
“What kind of an idiot do you take me for, Joelle? I’m not about to tell my employees something like that. Now we both know that you just overreacted that day. I’m sure now that you’ve had time to think about how foolish you looked storming out of the office like that, you’re as anxious as I am to put the whole ugly incident behind us and get on with business as usual.” Walking briskly toward the door, her father turned just before reaching it. “In fact, be in your office by eight sharp tomorrow morning. We have a new account that needs your attention.”
“I’m sorry, Father, but that isn’t possible,” Joelle replied.
Coming to a sudden halt, her father turned and pinned her to the spot with his glare. “Joelle, I’ve had about enough of this. I want you to stop behaving like a spoiled child.”
“Don’t you mean like a silly female?”
“Yes. That, too.”
“Well, for your information, Father, I’m not behaving like either. And to prove it, I’m declining your offer of reinstatement. You see, I’ve decided that it’s time that I make it in this world on my own—without your help.”
“That’s absurd. You’ll never do it,” Sylvan Ames remarked bitterly.
Joelle sighed. “Yeah—well, neither one of us will ever know that for sure unless I try. And tha’s what I’m going to do, Father. Surely you can understand my reasons.”
Her father narrowed his eyes. “You’ll never make it without my help.”
“Maybe not. But it’s a chance I have to take.”
Smirking, her father pointed his finger at her. “You’re going to fall flat on your face. But, when you do, don’t you dare come crawling back to me. You’ve had your chance. I’ll not be sympathetic to your pleas.” Then, pivoting on his heels, he rushed out her door, slamming it behind him.
Hot tears sprang to Joelle’s eyes. “You needn’t worry, Father. I won’t come crawling,” she whispered into the extreme silence that immediately followed his departure. “Not for any reason.”
Later that night, Joelle opened herself a can of chicken soup for supper. After eating, she went to bed early with an ice pack for her throbbing head. At some point, she began dreaming of Acapulco and Gabriel and woke up the following morning halfway expecting to find her vacation lover asleep in bed beside her. But he wasn’t there, and Joelle soon found herself wishing that he was. Eventually she began to realize what she was doing to herself and vowed to put him from her thoughts, once and for all.
But, unfortunately, over the next three weeks Joelle was incapable of pulling herself so completely together that she was able to block out all thoughts of Gabriel. He crept into her mind at the weirdest times, at some of the most inappropriate moments. Sometimes she found him in her thoughts even when she was making plans for her future…plans that, truthfully, here lately, she seemed to have so little energy in trying to accomplish. It wasn’t that she was depressed, or sickly, because she wasn’t either. The drive was there. It was her get-up-and-go that wasn’t.
She was just tired all the time. And sleepy. In fact, no matter how early she went to bed at night, she couldn’t seem to get enough sleep. Lately she required an afternoon nap, just to keep going. Finally, after realizing that her condition wasn’t improving, she decided that she needed to see a doctor for a good physical and promised to make herself an appointment soon.
But by the time she did, she was quite certain that there was really something seriously wrong with her. She was beginning to wonder if maybe she had picked up some kind of intestinal virus while on vacation.
Gabriel Lafleur stood on the veranda of his large Cajun-styled plantation home, built by his ancestors over a hundred and fifty years ago. It wasn’t quite sunup yet, but he knew he should’ve already been in the cane fields out back. His hired help was already hard at work. But, instead of hurrying to join them, here he was sitting around, sipping on his last cup of coffee and acting like some lovesick fool who had all the time in the world to be thinking about her. Hell, it was planting season and he didn’t have time to be thinking about anything other than work. Acapulco was weeks ago. It was time he forgot about the woman he’d made love to while there. Heaven help him, it was what he wanted to do more than anything else in the whole world. Only there was a dumb, stubborn part of him that wasn’t cooperating with his common sense.
And that’s what ate at his gut…constantly… steadily. He didn’t even want to think about her. Or, any woman, for that matter. His ex-wife’s betrayal had cured him of that. No way would he ever trust another woman enough to make her his wife. Even he wasn’t that big a fool.
And, yet, here he was acting just like one. Joelle Ames was, without a doubt, from start to finish, from head to toe, all wrong for him. In fact, that’s what made him an even bigger fool than most. He knew she was all wrong for him.
He was an idiot. No doubt about it.
Actually, instead of