A Most Desirable M.D.. Anne Marie Winston
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and he’d taken full advantage of her generosity.
Now he looked around him with interest, absorbing the ambience, gleaning clues about who the woman in his arms really was. She lay in docile surrender against his chest, her head against his shoulder. As he looked down at her slender body, all he could think was that he never wanted this night to end. Never wanted to have to think of anything but the incredible pleasure her sweet body gave him.
But he did have to think of something else. She’d been a virgin. So he knew she wasn’t prepared for birth control. And he hadn’t given it a damn thought until he’d been so deep inside her there was no chance in hell he could stop. He and Allison could have created a new life.
A child. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He’d always known he wanted children, children to whom he could give the kind of childhood he’d never had. But how he felt wasn’t really the issue. The issue was that he was an honorable man. His mother had raised him that way, and since he’d met the other members of the Fortune family, he knew where the strong streak of responsibility came from. Rarely did a Fortune walk away from his responsibilities.
He thought of his mother, a teenager with twin infants, totally overwhelmed and alone in a strange city. She’d been sure her father would never accept her back again, pregnant and unmarried. Maybe some people would see it as a shirking of responsibilities, but he thought it was the ultimate act of honor to give up children for whom she knew she couldn’t provide, to hope that they’d be adopted by loving families with adequate resources that she hadn’t had.
Well, he had the resources. And no child of his would ever be given away. The woman in his arms could very well be carrying his child after this night so he’d marry her. He’d marry her. The solution was so simple! They’d get married as soon as he could arrange it.
He wasn’t going to have people counting backward on their fingers and coming up with the wrong conclusions. He’d been the butt of gossip much of his life, one way or another. No child of his was going to have to suffer the cruel talk he had.
You don’t really have a dad, do you? I bet your mom was never married at all. He forced his mind away from the remembered taunts. No, his child would never have to endure anything like that.
It was a good solution in more ways than one, he realized as he looked down at the woman in his arms. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the reasons that she might still have been a virgin at her age. But it couldn’t have been a casual choice. No, if Allison had given herself to him after so many years of chastity, then he had an obligation to treat her gift as the special treasure it had been.
Besides, he was thirty years old. Nothing would please his mother more than to have him settled and giving her grandchildren to spoil.
And she’d like Allison. No, she’d probably love Allison. She’d take one look and see the gentle, selfless spirit, the honesty and integrity, the bone-deep kindness that radiated from Allison, and she’d see what he saw: the perfect woman with whom to spend his life. Satisfaction filled him. He could already imagine her soothing presence in his home and he liked the image. He liked it a lot.
And Allison would be a wonderful mother for his children. He already knew she would be great with infants since he’d seen the careful tenderness with which she handled babies in the neonatal unit. She was soft and sweet, easygoing yet competent. He couldn’t find a better-suited woman to mother his children if he tried.
She shifted in his arms and as he pulled his thoughts back to the present, he saw apprehension fill her gaze before she looked away. She swallowed. “Thank you,” she said, raising a hand and gently cupping his cheek. “I won’t…won’t make this more than it was. I don’t want to make you feel obligated or uncomfortable.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“No.” She rushed on. “It’s not as if—”
“Allison.”
She stopped, and her gaze came back to his.
“It’s too bad if you don’t want me to feel obligated because that’s exactly how I want you to feel.”
She hesitated, and he thought she might be holding her breath. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I want you to marry me.”
“What?” Her expression was so shocked he almost laughed.
“Marry me.”
She began to struggle in his arms and he pivoted, sitting on the edge of the bed and cradling her in his lap, controlling her until she stopped moving and lay against him again, her head on his shoulder, face turned up to his with a bewildered expression.
“Tonight…” he said. “Sex isn’t a casual thing for you. And we didn’t use birth control. I could have gotten you pregnant.”
“But…you don’t have to—you can’t marry me!” She looked completely panicked, her body stiff and uncomfortable against his.
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He dropped his head and sought her mouth, kissing her with deep intent until she was limp and pliant in his embrace and her arms came up to clutch at his neck as she returned his kisses. Then he lifted his head. “Say yes.”
She gazed at him for a long time, then closed her eyes. “You’re crazy. You’d hate being married to me.”
The flat certainty in her tone took him aback, but he noticed she hadn’t said she’d hate being married to him. “I’ve thought about it,” he told her, his hand slipping down to cover a breast, “and I wouldn’t hate it at all. I think we’re well suited. We’re great in bed and we get along well outside it, too.”
She blushed. “Those aren’t solid reasons to get married.” But she didn’t push his hand away.
“They’re better than some. Think about it,” he urged, a sense of urgency rushing through him, “and you’ll see I’m right. How many other men do you talk to the way we’ve talked?”
She was silent.
A new thought occurred to him. Were there other men whom she’d treated as sweetly and gently as she’d treated him in the course of their friendship? The idea didn’t set well. “How many other men—?” he began, but she cut him off.
“None,” she said. “But, Kane, I just don’t think you’ve really thought this through. You’re a Fortune.”
“Who cares what my last name is?” Dammit, what was wrong with her? She had to marry him. “Say yes,” he prompted, his fingers shaping her nipple, tugging and rolling the taut flesh, teasing himself as much as he was teasing her. “We’ll be good together. And if you’re pregnant, I’ll be delighted.”
Her eyes drooped, closed. She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Yes.”
He thought she sounded more like she was agreeing to an execution than a wedding, but the relief that swamped him was so intense and unexpected that he couldn’t comment. What was going on here? It was only that she was so perfect for the role, he decided. He’d have to look a long time to find another woman who fit so well into his life. And he had neither the time nor the inclination to go wife-hunting.
He lifted her again, turned to the pretty spindle bed and laid her down, taking the time to spread her hair out over the pillow. Then he went to the bathroom he’d passed and found a washcloth, running it beneath warm water before he returned to the bedroom.
He was amused to see that she’d pulled a sheet over herself and even more amused that she protested when he tugged it away and began to clean her. “I’m going to be looking at you every day soon,” he said, “So you might as well put the modesty in the past.”
“I can’t,” she said, covering her face with her hands, and he chuckled, setting the washcloth aside.
“This hair,” he murmured, moving onto the mattress beside her and pulling her into his arms as he buried