Expecting His Baby. Sandra Field
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angel. Grow up, Lise. No marriage breaks up with all the fault on one side. Especially when a child’s involved.”
“Why wouldn’t you give Angeline custody?” Lise demanded. “And don’t tell me it’s because she didn’t want it.”
“What else am I supposed to tell you? It happens to be true.”
She gave an impatient sigh. “And why were you away when the fire started? It was a business trip, wasn’t it?”
For once she’d knocked Judd off balance. He stared at her blankly. “You could say so.”
She pounced. “You were away with a woman, weren’t you? Why else would you be hedging?”
“I was not!”
“You know what I hate about this?” Lise flared. “You’re lying to me, Judd. About Angeline. About the women in your life. And yet you expect me to fall into your arms as though none of that matters.” Gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles were white, she said, “I wish you’d go. I’ve had enough of this. More than enough.”
“It’s not over, Lise,” he said with menacing quietness. “Don’t kid yourself on that score.”
“There’s nothing to be over—because there’s nothing between us!”
“You’re dead wrong. I’ll see myself out.”
He pivoted and a moment later the door closed behind him. Lise stood very still. Her knees were trembling as though she’d been running uphill for half an hour; her heartbeat sounded very loud in the sudden silence. One kiss, she thought numbly. How could one kiss turn her life upside down?
When Dave kissed her, she never felt anything remotely like the fierce hunger that had enveloped her just now and that had made nonsense of all her rules. Dave’s kisses were as pleasant as the man himself. Which might be one reason why she and Dave had never gone to bed together.
She’d go to Judd’s house this afternoon, do her best to allay Emmy’s fears and then she’d leave. And that would be that. If Emmy was there, Judd could hardly kiss her again.
But if he did, what would she do?
CHAPTER THREE
PROMPTLY at four o’clock the cab turned into Judd’s driveway. The ornate iron gates were open, leading into stands of mature birch, oak and evergreens, where the snow lay in soft drifts: a small forest in the midst of the city. Then Lise was dropped off in front of the house. Except it wasn’t a house. It was a mansion.
Right out of her league.
The night of the fire she hadn’t taken time for anything other than working out where the bedrooms were in the family wing. Now she stood for a few moments, gazing upward. Despite the trampled grass, and the scaffolding against the damaged wing, it was a beautiful house, U-shaped, the lower story built of gray stone, the upper shingled in sage-green cedar. Rhododendrons and azaleas were clustered against the stonework; immaculate snow lay over an expanse of lawn bordered by tall pines. A tree house nestled in the branches of a maple, while a small pond had been cleared for skating. For Emmy, thought Lise, admiring the way the late afternoon sun gleamed orange and gold on the windows.
It was a very welcoming house.
It didn’t fit what she knew of Judd Harwood.
She carried her bag of gear across the driveway, climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. Almost immediately, Judd opened the door. “Please come in,” he said formally. “I told Emmy you’d be here soon.”
He was wearing dark trousers with a teal-blue sweater. No man should look that good, Lise thought. It simply wasn’t fair. His features were too strongly carved to be considered handsome; it was the underlying energy, his sheer masculinity that was so overpowering. She said with a careful lack of warmth, “Hello, Judd, nice to see you,” and walked past him into the house.
The foyer with its expanse of oak flooring was painted sunshine-yellow, a graceful spiral staircase drawing her eye upward. An eclectic array of modern paintings intrigued her instantly with their strong colors and sense of design. By the tall windows, the delicate branches of a fig tree overhung clay pots of amaryllis in brilliant bloom.
Color. Warmth. Welcome. The only jarring note was, elusively, the smell of smoke. Confused and disarmed, Lise blurted, “But it’s beautiful.”
“What were you expecting? Medieval armor and poisoned arrows?”
Patches of red on her cheeks, she looked him full in the eye. “Where’s Emmy?”
“In the guest wing—we’ve had to seal off the family wing. So the playroom’s makeshift, and a lot of her favorite toys couldn’t be rescued.” His mouth tightened. “She was clutching her favorite bear when you found her…she won’t let it out of her sight even though it stinks of smoke and I’m sure acts as a constant reminder.”
“Plush,” Lise said. “She told me his name while I was carrying her out of the attic.”
For a moment Judd’s eyes were those of a man in torment. “The fire chief figures it was a fault in the wiring. The housekeeper and her husband raised the alarm—they live in a cottage just behind the house, they had family visiting them that night. The baby-sitter had a headache, she’d taken so many painkillers she was out like a light on the couch. If it hadn’t been for you, Lise…”
Lise couldn’t stand the look on his face; with an actual physical effort, she kept her hands by her side when all she wanted to do was smooth the lines of strain from around his mouth. “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been Dave or one of the other firefighters,” she said noncommittally. “Why don’t you take me to the playroom?”
“Yeah…Maryann, the housekeeper, is up there with Emmy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “What’s in the bag?”
“You’ll see.”
“Here, let me take your coat.”
As he reached out for her sheepskin jacket, she quickly slid out of it, not wanting him to touch her. He said, “So you haven’t forgotten.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “There’ll be no repeat.”
“Not here. Not now.”
“Nowhere. Ever.”
He raised one brow. “Are you daring me, by any chance?”
“Emmy, Judd.”
“I didn’t get where I am today without taking a risk or two—you might want to remember that.”
She said amiably, “Oh, I take risks, too. But I choose my risks. Show some discrimination.”
“Whereas I go after every available female?”
“Plus a few that aren’t. Me, for instance.”
“Lise,” Judd said flatly, “are you involved with Dave?”
She could lie, tell him that she and Dave were a number. And if she did, she had the feeling Judd would leave her strictly alone. But she’d never been any good at lying, and she’d waited too long. “There’s no easy answer to that question. Yes. No. Neither one cuts it.”
“I don’t think you are,” Judd drawled. “Just as well, considering the way you kissed me.”
“And how many women are you involved with, Judd?”
“Platonically, several. But I don’t have a lover, if that’s what you mean. Haven’t had for some time.”
His eyes were fastened on her face; he must have been aware of her quickened breathing. “Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Yes,” he said in a hard voice, “as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Then