Nobody's Baby But Mine

Chapter Ten

J ane groaned as she rose to turn off her computer, then slipped out of her clothes to prepare for bed. For the past three days, she’d spent her mornings helping Annie plant her garden, and every muscle ached.

She smiled as she folded her jeans and put them away in the closet, then pulled out her nightshirt. Usually she bristled around dictatorial people, but she loved having Annie boss her around.

Annie had bossed Cal, too. On Wednesday morning he’d insisted on driving Jane to Heartache Mountain. When they’d gotten there, Jane had pointed out the front step and suggested he stop hiring other people to do what he should do himself. He’d set to work with a great deal of grumbling, but it wasn’t long before she’d heard him whistling. He’d done a good job on the step and then made some other needed repairs. Today he’d bought several gallons of paint at the hardware store and begun scraping the exterior of the house.

She slipped into a short-sleeved gray nightshirt with an appliqué of Goofy on the pocket. Tomorrow night she would be dining with Cal’s parents. He hadn’t mentioned her promise to distance them, but she knew he hadn’t forgotten.

Although she was tired, it was barely eleven o’clock, and she felt too restless to go to bed. She began to tidy her work area and found herself once again wondering where Cal went at night. She suspected he was seeing other women, and she remembered the reference Lynn had made to the Mountaineer. She’d asked Annie about it today and learned that it was a private club of some sort. Was that where he met his women?

Even though this wasn’t a real marriage, the idea hurt. She didn’t want him sleeping with anyone else. She wanted him sleeping with her!

Her hands stilled on the stack of printouts she’d been straightening. What was she thinking of? Sex would only make an already complex situation impossible. But even as she told herself that, she remembered the way Cal had looked today with his shirt off while he’d stood on the ladder and scraped the side of Annie’s house. Watching those muscles bunch and flex every time he moved had made her so crazy she’d finally grabbed his shirt, thrown it at him, and delivered a stern lecture on the depletion of the ozone layer and skin cancer.

Lust. That’s what she was dealing with. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she wasn’t going to give in to it.

She needed something to do that would distract her, so she carried her overflowing trash can downstairs and emptied it in the garage. Afterward, she gazed out the kitchen bay window at the moon and found herself contemplating the ancient scientists-Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo-who’d tried to unravel the mysteries of the universe with only the most primitive of instruments. Even Newton couldn’t have envisioned the tools she used, from the powerful computer on her desk to the world’s giant particle accelerators.

She jumped as the door behind her opened, and Cal walked in from the garage. As he moved across the kitchen, it occurred to her that she had never seen a man so at home in his body. Along with his jeans, he wore a wine red hen-ley, the kind made out of waffle-knit underwear fabric, and a black nylon parka. Tiny needle-points of sensation prickled at her skin.

“I thought you’d be in bed,” he said, and she wondered if she imagined the slight huskiness she heard in his voice.

“Just thinking.”

“Dreaming about all those potatoes you planted?”

She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about Newton. Isaac,” she added.

“I’ve heard the name,” he said dryly. The hem of his parka flopped over his wrists as he pushed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I thought you modern-day physicists had forgotten all about old Isaac in your passion for the Big Guy.”

Hearing Einstein referred to in that way amused her. “Believe me, the Big Guy had a lot of respect for his predecessor. He just didn’t let Newton’s laws limit his thinking.”

“I still think that’s disrespectful. Isaac did all that work, then old Albert had to come along and upset it.”

She smiled again. “The best scientists have always been rebels. Thank God they still don’t execute us for our theories.”

He tossed his parka over one of the counter stools. “How’s the search for the top quark coming?”

“We found it in 1995. And how do you know what kind of work I’m doing?”

He shrugged. “I make it my business to know things.”

“I’m investigating the characteristics of the top quark, not looking for it.”

“So how many top quarks fit on the head of a pin?”

“More than you can imagine.” She was still surprised that he knew anything about her research.

“I’m asking you about your work, Professor. I promise you that I can at least grasp the concept, if not the particulars.”

Once again she’d let herself forget how bright he was. Easy to do with that muscular jock’s body standing in front of her. She pulled her thoughts up short before they could move any farther in that direction. “What do you know about quarks?”

“Not much. They’re a basic subatomic particle, and all matter is made up of them. There are-what?-six kinds of quarks?”

It was more than most people knew, and she nodded. “Top and bottom quarks, up and down, strange and charm. They got their names from a song that’s in James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake.”

“See, that’s part of the problem with you scientific types. If you’d take your names from Tom Clancy books-things people actually read-then the general public would understand what you do better.”

She laughed. “I promise if I discover something important, I’ll name it Red October.”

“You do that.” He looped his leg over a stool, then regarded her expectantly. She realized he was waiting for her to tell him more about her work.

She walked to the corner of the counter and rested one hand on the granite top.“What we know about the top quark is quite surprising. For example, it’s forty times heavier than the bottom quark, but we don’t know why. The more we understand about the top quark’s characteristics, the closer we come to exposing the cracks in the standard model of particle physics. Ultimately, of course, we’re looking for the final theory that will lead us to a new physics.”

“The Theory of Everything?”

“The name is facetious. It’s more accurately called the Grand Unification Theory, but, yes, the Theory of Everything. Some of us think the top quark will unlock a small part of it.”

“And you want to be the Einstein of this new physics.”

She busied herself wiping a speck from the granite with the tip of her finger.“There are brilliant physicists all over the world doing the same work.”

“And you’re not intimidated by any one of them, are you?”

She grinned. “Not a bit.”

He laughed. “Good luck, Professor. I wish you well.”

“Thank you.” She waited for him to change the subject-most people’s eyes began to glaze over when she talked about her work-but instead, he got up, grabbed a bag of taco chips from the pantry, and slouched down into the red velvet banquette in the alcove, where he began questioning her about the way the supercolliders worked.

Before long, she found herself sitting across from him munching on taco chips as she described the Tevatron collider at Fermilab as well as the new collider being built by CERN in Geneva, Switzerland. Her explanations merely induced more of his questions.

At first she answered eagerly, thrilled to find a layman who was genuinely interested in particle physics. It was cozy sitting in this warm kitchen late at night, munching on junk food and discussing her work. It almost felt as if they had a real relationship. But the fantasy evaporated when she realized she was explaining the components of the lepton family to him, and, much worse, that he was taking it in.

Her stomach twisted as she absorbed how easily he grasped these difficult concepts. What if her baby turned out to be even more brilliant than she feared? The idea made her dizzy, so she jumped into a complicated explanation of the Higgs boson that soon left him behind.

“Afraid you lost me, Professor.”

If only she could scream at him that she’d lost him because he was too dumb to understand, but all she could say was, “It gets pretty hairy.” She rose from the table. “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“All right.”

She decided this would be as good a time as any to put an end to her imprisonment. He was in a fairly good mood, so maybe he’d handle the news better. “By the way, Cal, I need to do something about getting a car. Nothing fancy, just basic transportation. Who should I see?”

“No one. If you have to go some place, I’ll take you.”

As quickly at that, his affability vanished. He rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen, putting an end to the discussion.

But she wasn’t nearly done, and she followed him across the cavernous family room toward the study. “I’m used to my independence. I need my own car.” And then, waspishly, “I promise I won’t wave at your friends when I drive through town.”

“No car, Professor. That’s the way it’s going to be.” Once again, he walked away from her, this time disappearing into the study. She compressed her lips and marched forward. This was ridiculous. Cal seemed to have forgotten they lived in the twentieth century. And that she had her own money.

She stopped in the doorway. “Unlike your girlfriends, I’m old enough to have my driver’s license.”

“The joke’s wearing thin.”

“Except it’s not exactly a joke, is it?” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you sure all this has to do with protecting your parents? Are you sure it isn’t more about keeping me locked up so my advanced age and general lack of bimbo qualities don’t embarrass you in front of your friends?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sprawled down behind the massive wooden desk.

She regarded him dispassionately. “I’m not even close to being the kind of woman all your buddies expected you to marry, am I? I’m not pretty enough to be your wife, my breasts aren’t big enough, and I’m too old. Big time embarrassment for the Bomber.”

He crossed his ankles and propped his boots on the desk. “If you say so.”

“I don’t need your permission to buy a car, Cal. I intend to do it whether you like it or not.”

He hit her dead on with those scorched-earth eyes. “Like hell.”

Completely exasperated and in no mood to enter into a full-fledged battle, she turned toward the door. Tomorrow she’d do as she liked, and he could just live with it. “I’ve had all of you I can take for right now. Good night.”

“Don’t you walk away from me!” He moved so quickly that she didn’t see him coming, and before she could get through the doorway, he’d blocked it. “Did you hear me?”

She splayed her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “Back off, buster!”

Seconds ticked away, each one crackling with tension. His forehead wrinkled and his lips tightened, but at the same time, she detected something that seemed almost like anticipation in his eyes, as if he wanted to fight with her. It was the most astonishing thing. She was used to people who avoided conflict, but Cal seemed to enjoy it, and, to her surprise, she was more than willing to join in.

Before she got a chance, however, he dropped his gaze and the corner of his mouth curled. “Goofy.”

She’d been called many things, but never that, and her temper flared. “What did you say?”

“Your nightshirt.” He reached down and, with the tip of his finger, traced the cartoon appliqué that lay on the upper slope of her breast. “Goofy.”

“Oh.”Her anger deflated.

He smiled and began using his fingernail, running it back and forth over the outline of the figure. The skin of her breast tightened, and her nipple hardened in response. She hated reacting to something that was obviously a calculated move on his part. No wonder he had a big ego; he could probably turn women on in his sleep.

“I hope you’re arousing yourself because you’re not doing a thing to me.”

“Is that so?” He glanced down at the front of her nightshirt where the evidence clearly pointed to the contrary.

He was so arrogant; so sure of himself. She needed some small measure of revenge, so she shook her head and regarded him sadly. “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, Cal?”

“Figured what out?”

“Never mind.” She sighed. “I guess you’re probably a fairly nice guy underneath all that bluster, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

An edge of belligerence crept into his voice. “Don’t you worry about my feelings. What haven’t I figured out yet?”

She made a helpless, fluttery gesture that was surprisingly effective considering the fact that she’d never done anything like that before. “This is silly. I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Talk!”

“All right, then. To be blunt, the thing you don’t seem to be able to grasp is the fact that you’re not my type. You just don’t turn me on.” Liar, Liar, pants on fire.

He dropped his hand. “I don’t turn you on?”

“Now I’ve made you angry, haven’t I?”

“Angry? Why the hell should I be angry?”

“You look angry.”

“Well, that just goes to show that you’re not as perceptive as you think.”

“Good. Besides, I’m sure my lack of response to you is simply a problem with my perception. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Damn right.”

A little shrug. “I’ve just always preferred a different type of man.”

“What type is that?”

“Oh, men who aren’t quite as large. Not quite as loud. Gentle men. Scholarly men.”

“Like Dr. Craig Elkhart?” He spit out the name.

“What do you know about Craig?”

“I know he dumped you for a twenty-year-old secretary.”

“She wasn’t a secretary. She was a data-entry clerk. And he didn’t dump me.”

“That’s not the way I heard it. The guy dumped you like a load of wet cement.”

“He most certainly did not. We parted by mutual agreement.”

“Mutual, my ass.”

“You’re just throwing up a smoke screen because I wounded your pride when I said I wasn’t attracted to you.”

“I’ve met a lot of women who were liars, but you take the cake. Admit it, Professor. I turn you on so much you can hardly stand it. If I put my mind to it, I could have you naked and begging in thirty seconds flat.”

“There’s nothing more pathetic than an aging man boasting of his flagging sexual prowess.”

“Flagging!”

She watched a slow flush spread across his cheekbones and knew she’d really done it. She’d pushed him past his limit, and now she absolutely had to shut up.“Don’t worry, Cal. Somewhere there’s a woman who’ll care enough to take her time with you.”

The flush spread to his ears.

She patted his chest. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ve heard they’re doing wonders with implants.”

Those pale eyes widened, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I think there are also some nonsurgical devices based on air pressure and vacuum. I could probably even design something for you, if it came to that.”

“That’s it!” The flush receded, and before she knew what was happening, he’d dropped his shoulder, pushed it not ungently against her stomach, and upended her.

“Upsey-daisy, sweetheart.”

She found herself staring at the seat of his jeans. Faded denim stretched tight over slim, hard-muscled hips. She began to feel dizzy and wasn’t certain she could entirely blame it on the blood rushing to her head. “Cal?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Please put me down.”

“In a minute.” He headed out into the foyer, moving carefully in deference to her pregnancy. He’d hooked one of his arms behind her knees to hold her in place, and he patted the back of one bare thigh as he mounted the stairs. “Just stay real still, now, and everything’ll be fine.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re paying the Evil Queen a visit.”

“Evil queen? What are you talking about? Put me down!”

They reached the top of the stairs. “Quiet, now. I have to concentrate real hard so I don’t turn too fast and slam that head of yours right into the wall, givin’you a nasty concussion that would lower your IQ to somewhere in the vicinity of human and make you behave like a reasonable human being.”

“My bedroom’s over there.”

“The Evil Queen’s this way.” He marched toward his own bedroom.

“Whatevil queen? What are you talking about? And put me down right this minute or I’ll scream bloody murder, then do the job for real!”

“I already hid all the electrical appliances, and I’m not taking a shower without locking you in the closet first.” He dropped his shoulder, and she found herself being lowered onto something soft. She looked up into her own reflection.

Her hair was tousled, her nightshirt twisted around her thighs, and her skin rosy. Cal stood next to the bed. He leaned forward and gazed up at the mirror mounted above the bed.

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s gonna be the most naked lady of all?”

The Evil Queen! She snatched a pillow and threw it at him. “Oh, no, you don’t.” She vaulted toward the other side of the bed, only to have him grab her nightshirt and pull her back down.

“Time for good ol’ Goofy to make himself scarce so the grown-ups can play.”

“I don’t want to play with you, and don’t you dare try to pull off my nightshirt, you arrogant ass!”

The mattress sagged as he straddled her thighs. “And you’ve got a very nice one yourself, I couldn’t help but notice. What say we take a closer look?” He reached for the hem of the nightshirt.

“Don’t, Cal.” She slapped her hands down, but even as she pressed the garment to her thighs, she knew she wanted to let him take it off her. Why couldn’t she? They were married, weren’t they?

Still straddling her, he leaned back on his right calf. “You don’t seriously think we’re going to live here for three months without getting intimate.”

Her heart pounded, her body pulsed with need, and her brain cried out the truth. He didn’t have the slightest bit of affection for her. She was nothing more than a sexual convenience. She gritted her teeth. “Have you forgotten that you don’t like me?”

“True, but one thing doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the other. You don’t like me, either.”

“That’s not exactly so.”

“You do like me?”

“I don’t dislike you. You’re probably a decent person. In your own twisted way, I know you think you’re doing the right thing about all this, but I just wish you were different.”

“Dumber.”

“That. And not so big. Everything about you is too big for me-not just your body, but your personality, your bank account, your temper, and, definitely, your ego.”

“Don’t you talk to me about temper! I’m not the one going around trying to electrocute people. And if we’re throwing out things that are too big, what about that gargantuan brain of yours?” He drew his leg over her and resettled himself at the end of the bed, where he leaned against the bedpost.

She knew she’d done the right thing, but it was still painful. She pointed out the obvious. “To you, I’m just an available body.”

“You’re my wife.”

“A technicality.” She sat up so she was leaning against the headboard. “You want me to be unpleasant to your parents and stay away from your friends but, at the same time, you expect me to make love with you. Can’t you understand how I might find that a little demeaning?”

“No.”He gazed at her, and his flared nostrils and tight lips dared her to argue with him. He was going to take his stand, even though he knew it was indefensible.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you feel like that since it’s typical of the way celebrity athletes traditionally treat their groupies. Women are good enough for a quick romp in bed, but not good enough to be part of a big shot’s life.”

“Are you saying you want to be part of my life? That’s pretty hard to believe, Professor, considering the fact that you don’t seem to like anything about me.”

“You’re deliberately misinterpreting. I’m merely saying that I refuse to sleep with you at night knowing you don’t like me, especially when you want to keep me locked up during the day. Don’t deny that you’d behave differently if one of your bimbos had done what I did.”

“None of my bimbos is smart enough to plan what you did! And I don’t have any bimbos!”

She lifted one eyebrow. “A man like you wants his wife to be a reflection of himself. You want youth and beauty standing next to you because that’s how you want everyone to see you, as young and healthy, a perfect physical specimen who doesn’t have a worry about anything, certainly not about Kevin Tucker taking away your job.”

He threw his leg over the side of the bed and stood. “This is the most boring conversation I ever had.”

“Just another sign of how incompatible we are because I think the conversation’s pretty fascinating. What are you going to do when your playing days are over, Cal?”

“I don’t have to worry about that for a long time.”

“I’ve seen you limp when you get out of the car after you’ve been sitting for a long time, and I have a feeling those thirty-minute showers I hear you take in the morning aren’t about personal cleanliness. Your body has taken a beating, and it’s not going to do it much longer.”

“Now you’re an expert on orthopedics.”

“I know what I see.”

“I’m not buying you a car.” He headed for the door.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she called after him. “I intend to buy my own.”

“No, you’re not.” He poked his head back in the door. “And I am taking you to bed.”

She untangled herself from the covers and pushed her nightshirt down as she stood up. “I’m not going to bed with a man who dislikes me.”

“We’ll work on that part of it.”

“We’ve never had a date.”

“We’ve already done it twice!”

“That was nothing more than a medical procedure.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We’ve never even kissed,” she went on, driving her point home.

“Now that’s something we can fix real easy.” He advanced on her, a sense of purpose glittering in his eyes.

“Cal, I didn’t mean…” She couldn’t go on. She wanted to kiss him.

He encircled her wrists with his hands. The bedpost bumped against her spine.“Consider this a scientific experiment, Professor.”

He leaned forward, drawing her hands behind her back and around the bedpost at the same time. She felt as if she’d been tied to a stake, except his gentle fingers were the only bonds holding her in place.

As he gazed down, her heart gave a nervous kick against her ribs. “Let’s see how you taste.”

His head dipped and his lips brushed hers. They were soft and warm, slightly parted, barely touching. Her eyes drifted shut. She felt as if she were being grazed by a feather and wondered how someone so strong could have such a tender touch.

He continued to tease her with his mouth. The barest brush, the slightest touch. Her senses swirled. She wanted more and she went up on tiptoe, slanting her mouth across his and deepening the kiss.

He drew back. Another graze. A glance.

She leaned into him again, and he nipped her bottom lip. Was that a warning that only the quarterback called the play? Her body throbbed with frustration.

He rewarded her obedience by closing his lips over hers and lightly tracing the bow with the tip of his tongue. She moaned. If he gave this much attention to a simple kiss, what would he do if she let him get to the rest of her?

She couldn’t stand it any longer, and once again she reared up on her tiptoes. This time he didn’t object. The gentle tantalizer disappeared, and he took full possession of what she offered. With his hands occupied shackling hers behind the bedpost, he could only use his mouth on her, and he used it well, filling her with his tongue and leaning into her so she could feel his passion.

She pressed her own body against his and lost herself in a new way of kissing, a mating that was more erotic than any sex act she’d ever experienced. She could be male and female, the possessor and the possessed. She moved her body against him, using it as if she were a snake, rubbing breasts and belly, thighs and hips. Her body burned with the thrill of everything that had been missing for her, and in her passion, she had a brief glimpse of how it might be if they were more to each other than bodies.

She heard a moan, but this time it didn’t come from her. It was hoarse, muffled, urgent. Her hands were suddenly free, while his were on her thighs, sliding beneath her nightshirt.

Oh, yes. She wanted him there. Hurry. Touch my softest place. My sweetest place.Her body urged him to boldness while her mind and heart cried out not to give herself so cheaply. She wanted to be courted, to be wooed and won, even if only for her body. Just once in her life, she wanted to feel what other women felt when men pursued them.

His fingers touched the soft curls. “Stop!” Her exclamation sounded as if it were part command, part howl.

“No.”

“I mean it, Cal.” She gasped for breath, struggled for control. “Get your hands out from under my nightshirt.”

“You want me here. You know you do.”

He was still pressed hard against her, and she wished she’d touched him there first, before she’d told him to stop. Just one quick touch so she could see how he felt against her hand. “I want you to stop.”

He jerked away from her. “This is stupid! This is so damn stupid I can’t believe it! The two of us are trapped together in this stinking marriage. We can’t stand each other, and the only consolation we’re going to find is in bed, but you’re too damn stubborn to cooperate!”

He’d proven her point in spades, and she swallowed her hurt so she could let him know it. “I knew you didn’t like me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just said it. You just said that we can’t stand each other, even though I already said I didn’t dislike you. So that leaves you. You just admitted how you felt about me.”

“I did not say that.”

“You most assuredly did.”

“Well, I didn’t mean it.”

“Ha!”

“Rosebud…”

“Don’t you call me that, you jerk! Sex is just another form of sport to you, isn’t it? Something to do when you’re not on the football field or drinking beer with your buddies. Well, I don’t feel that way about it. You want to have sex with me, fine! You can have sex with me! But on my terms.”

“And exactly what terms are those?”

“You’re going to have to like me first! A lot!”

“I already like you a lot!” he roared.

“You are pathetic!” With an exclamation made up of equal parts fury and frustration, she snatched a pillow from the bed, threw it at his head, and flounced back to her bedroom.

Moments later, she heard a loud thud, as if somebody’s fist might very well have connected with a wall.