The Bargain Part 12

"Do you mean what I think you do?" Tara gasped.

"Yup. Lindsey's pregnant. We saw the doctor yesterday afternoon."

Tara watched Cole, and his reaction to Jake's announcement stunned her. His eyes were filled with such despair and longing she didn't know what to do. She quickly jumped up from the table and hugged Jake and Lindsey in turn.

"I am so glad for you," she told them. "That's such great news. Does the doctor say everything's okay?"

"Yes," Lindsey told her. "I have to take it very easy again, and this is my last gla.s.s of wine for a while. But the doctor said he doesn't foresee any more problems than before. This one might even be a little easier."

"How wonderful for you. Isn't that great, Cole?" She turned to her husband, who was trying hard to rearrange the expression on his face.

"Yes, it is. That's terrific." He managed a stiff smile. "Congratulations to both of you." He shook Jake's hand and kissed Lindsey on the cheek. "It will be nice for Jason to have a little brother or sister."

The turkey was roasted to perfection, the sweet potato ca.s.serole fluffy and light, the yeast rolls hot and crusty. Compliments flew across the table. Everyone seemed immersed in the holiday spirit, and Tara's sense of expectation rose.

She kept an eye on Cole, and as the meal progressed, he visibly relaxed, although the amount of wine he consumed might have had a lot to do with it. She didn't remember ever seeing him drink more than a gla.s.s or two except for the night of his strange proposal. She tried not to stare at him, wondering what he was thinking. But the flex of the muscles in his throat as he swallow, the movement of his strong jaw as he talked, the deft way his long, lean fingers handled the wine goblet fascinated her.

Lindsey and Jake were the first to leave.

"Gotta get Mama home," Jake winked, ushering his wife out the door.

Sean and the McKees were the next to go. Tara stood in the doorway, waving and smiling until the last car had pulled away, then she turned back to Cole.

"Well, I thought everything went well, didn't you?"

"Yes. You did a great job. Everyone enjoyed themselves." He cleared his throat. "It was a wonderful evening."

"Molly was good as gold when we had her downstairs," Tara pointed out. "Don't you just want to give her the warmest hug?"

As soon as she looked at Cole's face, she knew she'd made a mistake.

"Don't presume beyond your job description." His voice was harsh, his tone cutting.

Tara's heart shifted painfully, but she reached out and touched his arm, not willing to give up. If anything were to happen between the two of them, Molly would have to be a part of it.

"Just try holding her." She made her voice soft rather than demanding. "Just once. Please.

You'll see. You'll fall right in love with her. I just know it."

Cole froze then slammed the front door so hard the walls echoed with it. He nearly knocked both of them down in his haste to move away.

"You run this house," he shouted, "you run the child, you run the basic structure of my existence, all with frightening efficiency. Which I appreciate. That's what you're paid to do." His eyes blazed with fury. "Leave it at that. Do not attempt to run this one tiny corner of my life. Can you not learn to mind your own business?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Cole wanted to take them back. Tara looked as if he'd slapped her. Her face was paper white and her hands trembled.

She turned away with more grace than he had any right to expect. "I think I'll go upstairs now. Good night."

Cole felt sick to his stomach. Well, he'd done it now. What the h.e.l.l was the matter with him? How could he say something like that to Tara who deserved so much better?

Nice going, jerk.

That was the price he paid for drinking too much wine. Or anything. His mouth got ahead of his brain. Hadn't he learned his lesson yet?

"Tara, please." He turned to follow her. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean...."

But she was already gone. An intense pain captured his heart, worse than the night he'd found out about Molly's parentage.

Tara, Tara, Tara. Oh, G.o.d, how I want you. I didn't even have the chance to tell you.

Please come back and let me put my arms around you, apologize, try to tell you how I feel. For a man who's such a raging success in business, I certainly manage to keep s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up my private life big time.

Cursing himself for his stupidity, he slammed out of the house, not even bothering with a jacket. He opened the garage door and stood for a moment breathing in the unseasonably cold evening, letting it shock the effects of the wine from his system. He leaned against the car for a long time, waiting to make sure he was competent to drive. The last thing he needed was to be arrested for drunk driving. Secretly, he hoped Tara would come looking for him, but after a long time, it was painfully obvious that wasn't going to happen. Finally, when his head had cleared and his hands were steady, he started the car and backed out into the street.

Tara made it to the rocking chair in the nursery before she collapsed, forcing back the tears that threatened. All she could do for a long time was sit in the chair, shaking like a leaf, staring at Molly sleeping so peacefully.

Well, now what?

All day, her growing feelings for Cole had kept bubbling to the surface. Every time she sensed his eyes on her and raised her own, there was no mistaking the heat that flashed between them. Little shivers of antic.i.p.ation had chased themselves along her spine as she'd thought of what tonight might bring. Would her erotic dreams finally come true?

The confrontation had destroyed all of that and wiped it away as if it had never happened.

The harsh words lay there like unexploded bombs. She was as angry as Cole but wounded that he could say the things he did. Why had she forced the situation? She knew better. Clearly, after all these months, his head was still in the same place. He was a long way from dealing with whatever pain he carried. Trying to ease him into interacting with Molly hadn't been a raging success. Even today, he'd found a way to leave the room when the little girl was downstairs.

Tara had just been so sure, with everyone wrapped in the holiday spirit, that this was the time to try moving forward. Instead, she feared she'd only made things worse. What dreadful thing had happened to turn him against his adorable daughter? What tragedy in his life had closed him off from a child who was so easy to love? The hidden hope that their feelings for each other might be something real was swallowed up by the bitterness of the words he'd flung at her like so many sharp knives.

I knew better. That was a stupid thing for me to do. Now he'll hate both of us, and any hope for the future is down the drain.

Whatever drove him might just end up destroying them all.

She kept listening for his car to start, wondering if she should go out there and make sure he was all right to drive. But she knew she couldn't face him at the moment. Her pain was too intense, too sharp. She was barely holding herself together as it was.

What was he waiting for out there? Was he planning to come back inside?

Then she realized, knowing Cole, he was waiting until he was sure it was safe for him to drive.

After a long time she finally heard the growl of the engine turning over and the squeal of tires as he backed out of the garage. She managed to rouse herself and, a.s.sured that Molly was still sound asleep, went into her own room and took off her clothes. Throwing them on the chair, she pulled on the first nightgown she found in the drawer. Tired to the bone, she crawled into bed, resisting the urge to pull the covers over her head. She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, praying that tonight the erotic dreams wouldn't plague her. But her restless subconscious sought the pleasures she was denied when she was awake.

Well, that was a great performance, a.s.shole.

Cole banged his fist against the steering wheel.

You finally figure out you're in love with the woman, so you show it by insulting her. Big time. Way to go, jerk-off.

He'd give anything if he could take back the words he'd flung at her. What Tara had done was the most natural thing in the world, connecting father and child on a holiday. Her intentions came from the heart. Unfortunately, she had no idea why he felt the way he did.

It was all that d.a.m.n wine he'd drunk, way past his two-gla.s.s limit. Still, the pain was so sharp a drink seemed the only logical choice to blunt his pain. And he knew right where he could get one. Jake's office where he kept liquor for celebratory drinks.

For everyone but me and rightfully so.

They had keys to each other's offices, so access there wasn't a problem, but the cabinet with the liquor was also locked.

s.h.i.t. Paranoid son of a b.i.t.c.h.

In his own office, he dug through a junk drawer, looking for anything to help him, finally coming up with a screwdriver. Jake would kill him for sure, he thought, as he worked to pry open the lock, but this was an emergency. At last, the cabinet was open, the door hanging lopsided. Pulling out a bottle of bourbon, he poured a shot straight and raised the gla.s.s.

"To the world's greatest screw-up," he toasted himself and gulped down the liquid. Then he refilled the gla.s.s, took it and the bottle back to his office and sprawled on the couch.

But one drink followed another and soon all he could think of was Tara. He still remembered that clumsy scene in her bedroom the night of the wedding ceremony, felt the softness of her mouth when he'd touched it, the silkiness of her skin against his palms. The heady scent of her perfume still lingered in his nostrils. He knew he couldn't run from the truth any longer. All those nights he'd lain awake in his bedroom craving her, all those erotic dreams when he'd f.u.c.ked her every way possible. His body had been sending him messages. So had his heart, but he was too bitter to recognize it Desire had grown within him all day today. He'd been impatient for everyone to leave so they could be alone, and he could try to tell her how he felt. He was filled with an almost overpowering need to make love to her and tell her how she'd made a place for herself in his heart. Then in seconds, with a few thoughtless words, he'd killed that chance.

So Maggie had made a fool of him, played a cruel joke on him. He was the one who'd gotten into the mess to begin with, and he was the one who refused to deal with its aftermath.

Everyone was right. He'd turned into a self-pitying wreck that no one even wanted to be around anymore, including himself.

He wanted what Jake and Lindsey had-a loving marriage, children-and he wanted it all with Tara. He was gripped with a fierce desire to hold her naked in his arms, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s warmly covered by his hands, her body arched against him. He couldn't stand the thought he might lose her, and he might not ever have that opportunity. Right then, he wanted her more than he'd ever thought it possible to want a woman. But what could he do about it now?

He had no idea how long he sat there, drinking steadily. The more he drank, the more depressed he became. What if she leaves me? he thought. Panic coursed through him, chilling his blood. He didn't think he could stand it without her. He could not lose her. Somehow, he had to make her understand, let her know how he felt.

Afterward, he blamed what happened on the alcohol. It was easier than blaming himself.

If he hadn't gotten drunk, none of it would have happened. In his right mind, he'd have slept it off and waited for the sober light of day to plead his case. But the liquor had wiped away all sense of sanity, urging him to yet greater folly. He swallowed the last of the bourbon and headed for his car.

His alcohol-fogged brain had lost all ability to reason. He had no idea how he managed to get home without running the car off the road or into a tree. He hoped Tara had not come back downstairs and set the alarm because he didn't think he could remember the code tonight.

Chapter Nine.

Tara stirred restlessly in her sleep, twisting her body. The dream had engulfed her again.

A naked Cole stood beside her bed, holding his pulsating erection in his hand, staring down at her...

"I can't wait." His voice was thick with desire.

He didn't bothering stripping off her nightgown. He pressed her back against the pillows and pushed it up to her neck. She felt his heavy, naked presence as he lay down in her bed, caressing her, murmuring to her. Her hands, reaching up, touched hot, naked flesh covered with the now-familiar mat of chest hair.

His hands caressed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, tugging at the sensitive nipples, laving them with a hot, wet tongue the way she loved. She pressed against his body, sliding back and forth against the hair on his chest until her skin felt stretched to bursting. He swept his tongue across them, nipping with little bites then soothing with the warm moisture. Bite them, she wanted to scream.

He moved to her mouth then down the slender column of her neck, pausing to bite nip at the tender spot on her shoulder. His breath whispered against her ear as he described in detail how he wanted to possess her, to open her up like a flower and drink of her female juices, to suck on her c.l.i.toris until she begged for mercy.

She could feel the familiar touch of his rock-hard p.e.n.i.s prodding against her c.u.n.t, rubbing sensuously against her. He roused her body to fever pitch, and an erotic fog clouded her mind.

His mouth ravaged hers once more as his hands continue to roam over her body, touching the wetness between her legs and slipping two strong fingers into her waiting p.u.s.s.y. Quickening breath blew puffs of air on her skin as he followed his fingers with his mouth. His lips captured her c.l.i.toris and sucked until she tried to push his head away, the arousal was so intense. But when he slipped his tongue into her inner wetness, she could only wrap her legs around his head and hang on for dear life. She felt him all the way to her womb, lapping and tasting, as her juices poured into his mouth. Just as she thought she'd reached the crest, he backed off and moved up her body again.

Come back! she wanted to scream.

"Tara, Tara, don't leave me. I need you, Tara." His mouth slanted over hers again, his tongue probing insistently, giving her a taste of herself. "I want you, Tara. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I love you. Don't leave me. Please. I love you. I want you."

The words she had wanted so desperately to hear.

Hot hands trailed over her soft skin, caressing the insides of her thighs, just brushing the soft, damp curls at her p.u.s.s.y. She was writhing and twisting under him as his fingers probed and teased, driving her mad with desire. Her body quivered at the touch. Instinctively, she opened her legs wider for him.

More, more, voice screamed in her head. Then the thick, hot length of him entered her with slow, demanding thrusts. Hands grasped her b.u.t.tocks, pulling her up to him, driving deeper, harder.

Long past any semblance of control, she moved with him, matching him stroke for stroke.

Consumed with an urgent need, wanting to capture him as deep inside her as she could. The top of the roller coaster ride tantalized just beyond her reach.

He was relentless, holding her hips in place, using his mouth on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sliding his hand between their bodies to rub her c.l.i.t and push her beyond endurance. The roller coaster crested and plunged, taking her down into a black abyss while her world shattered around her. As her whole body clenched, she felt him thrust with his hips one last time and explode inside her, his p.e.n.i.s throbbing, his heart thundering against her.

Then it was over, and he collapsed on top of her, spent.

A feeling of joy swept through her. Somehow tonight was different, more intense. Did that mean Cole was ready to make a real commitment to her? She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer...

Warm breath against her ear jarred Tara to sudden wakefulness, and she gasped with shock. Cole's naked body, slick with the sweat of exertion, lay heavy on her, his breathing labored. No! Her mind recoiled. Not a dream! Not her imagination. Reality. Slamming into her like a train wreck. Jolting her with its painful impact. Far from the reality she'd expected. All those dreams should have been the forerunner to the most explosive s.e.x of her life, building to a climax beyond proportions. She felt somehow cheated. Unfinished.

Then the sharp, unexpected scent of bourbon a.s.saulted her, bringing her fully awake. He was drunk. Drunk! She was stunned. Cole never drank anything stronger than wine or beer. What was going on here?

They'd certainly violated the aNo s.e.x' rule and not the way she'd planned or hoped for.

Her husband had come home drunk and taken her as she'd dreamed about every night. And she'd let him, in a way so wanton she shuddered at the memory. Never mind she'd thought she was dreaming. It had happened and she'd let it.

Nausea rose at the back of her throat. How much worse could things get? This was not the way it was supposed to be. How could this happen with so much pain still lying between them? G.o.d, what would he think of her now? Would he hate her for accepting him? Would he apologize for being drunk, but tell her he'd needed the courage and could she please forgive him?

And do it again cold sober?

Gathering what strength she had left, she pushed at his shoulders while she tried to twist her body from beneath him.

"Cole. Please. You have to move." He still lay there pressed heavily against her, and she wondered if he'd fallen asleep. Or even worse, pa.s.sed out. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder at him. She didn't want to raise her voice too loud and wake Molly. That's all this G.o.d-awful nightmare needed.

"Cole. Come on. Help me here."

At last, he lifted his head, a glazed look on his face, as her words cut through the cotton in his brain. He looked down at her in bewilderment, blinking his eyes, trying to focus on the scene.

She knew the moment awareness struck him. His body recoiled as if struck by ice water. Just like that, the effects of the alcohol were banished, and the truth struck him. Shaking, he climbed off the bed.

Shock replaced bewilderment on his face as his eyes raked over Tara, lying in a rumpled bed, clutching her gown as if it were a shield. He took in his own nakedness, and all the color drained from his face. For a minute, he looked as if he would be ill.

"Oh, G.o.d. What have I done? Please tell me I'm imagining this. I didn't mean..." He shoved his fingers through his hair. "Tara, I'm so sorry. So very sorry. Oh, G.o.d. I just wanted..."

His voice cracked. He throat muscles worked with his effort to swallow. "This isn't the way I wanted it. Not the way at all. I don't even..."