The Twenty-Four-Hour Bride Read online

  And then it had happened. Their baby had slipped from one life into another, forced from the dark into the light of a new world.

  “You have a daughter,” the doctor had said with a pleased laugh.

  “Abigail,” Dani had whispered.

  At that, the baby screwed up her little face and released the most delightful sound in the world—her first cry. A cry that completely drowned out Nick’s quiet words of satisfaction. “My father rejoices.”

  “So you’re not upset?”

  Torn from his reverie, it took Nick a minute to switch gears. “No, Dani. You haven’t said anything I didn’t already know.”

  “I’m glad,” she said simply.

  “You need some rest I’d better take off.”

  “Nick?” A curious flush tinted her cheeks. “Thank you for everything. The wedding and getting me to the hospital in time. And...and for being there when I needed you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He hesitated, unwilling to leave until he’d rectified one final omission. “I did forget something, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I never had an opportunity to kiss the bride.”

  He didn’t wait for her reaction, afraid to chance a brush-off. Instead, he leaned forward and captured her lips. It was a gentle kiss, a whisper of sensation. He’d meant it to be brief. But the temptation to linger, to reacquaint himself with her mouth and taste was too much to resist. He deepened the joining, easing past the weak barrier of her closed lips to explore the delicate inner recesses. She sighed, her breath a warm balm, and he drank in her essence.

  One night. One spectacular night, she’d called it. That’s all they’d ever had. And yet every bittersweet moment of that night had become indelibly fixed in his memory. Slowly he released her, a single thought coalescing in his mind. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t anywhere near enough. Dani had married him. She’d borne him a child. They were joined, joined through blood and circumstance. And he wasn’t about to let her sever that connection. Not in a year.

  Not ever.

  “Are you coming back?” she asked sleepily.

  “Oh, yeah, sweetheart. Count on it. I’m coming back.”

  Nick stalked to the bank of phones and snatched up the receiver. He punched in a set of numbers then hesitated, - clicking the plunger to disconnect the call. Damn. His hands trembled like a child’s. A frown creased his brow. This wouldn’t do. Undoubtedly the excitement of Abigail’s birth had caused it. Regardless of the reason, he needed to end it. He couldn’t allow his emotions free rein. Not right now. It wasn’t safe.

  Control. He had to regain his control.

  He closed his eyes, willing a particular scene to mind. He’d started picturing the scene as a child out of self defense, discovering it helped him control his emotions and insulate himself from hurt. It came with the ease of long practice—an endless panorama of rolling plains, stretching clear to the horizons of his mind. A thick carpet of snow covered every inch of the frozen soil. The snow didn’t glisten in the sun. There was no sun. No sound. No movement. No life. Instead a cast of bluish-gray stained the purity of the landscape as completely as it stained the sky above, muting all brilliance. The image held no pain, nor did it offer peace. It simply was. And there, in that barren wasteland, he kept his control.

  Nick lifted the receiver with a rock-steady hand and punched in the phone number. It rang four times. It always rang four times. Then a woman’s voice sounded in his ear. “We can’t come to the phone. Leave a message. Please.” The “please” came as an absentminded afterthought. An irritating, high-pitched beep shot through the phone line, followed by unnerving silence.

  “It’s Nick,” he informed the machine. “Just thought you’d like to know... I’m a father. She’s a beautiful little girl named Abigail. Six pounds, four ounces. Call me when you get the chance and I’ll arrange a convenient time to visit. Oh, and—”

  Another harsh beep assaulted his ear.

  His jaw flexed. “The wedding was beautiful. Sorry you missed it.”

  Ever so gently he returned the receiver to its cradle.

  And then he walked away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANI WAITED IMPATIENTLY for Nick to arrive at the hospital. She wanted to leave, to escape from those who liked to poke and prod and encroach on her precious moments with Abigail. But she couldn’t go home without her husband’s assistance, and unfortunately, he hadn’t shown up yet.

  “Be patient, Danielle. He’ll be here soon,” Ruth assured her.

  “Maybe he’s forgotten.”

  “Forgotten his wife and daughter in less than twenty-four hours? Nick?” Her mother grinned. “I don’t think so.”

  “We could run you home,” Kendell offered.

  Before Dani had a chance to refuse, Ruth piped up.

  “Absolutely not. That would be stealing a memory from Nick, and I won’t allow it. He’ll be here soon enough. Now the two of you show some patience.”

  To Dani’s alarm, Nick chose that precise moment to arrive, appearing in the open doorway just in time to overhear her mother’s comment. “Have I missed something?” he asked in a dangerous rumble.

  To her utter amazement he wore lightweight denims topped with a cotton crew-neck shirt. The jeans had seen the inside of a washer so many times, they were bleached white in spots. And though loose, the thin material still managed to lovingly outline slim hips, a muscular backside and powerful thighs. As for the crew neck, it showed off his shoulders magnificently. Apparently Kendell thought so, as well.

  “Wow! Talk about hiding your light beneath a bushel,” she muttered. “I can’t blame you for wanting to ring in the New Year with him. Yum!”

  Dani silenced her younger sister with a glare, then turned her attention to her husband. Kendell was right. Far too much of Nick’s light was on display. She drew her brows together. “It’s Tuesday. Where’s your suit?”

  “Is that how he managed to hide those shoulders? Buried beneath pinstripes?” Kendell murmured. “That’ll teach me to pay closer attention to the suits and ties I work with.”

  Nick folded his arms across a chest as magnificent as his shoulders and propped himself against the doorjamb. “Since I’m not going in to the office, I don’t need a suit. And you still haven’t told me what I missed. Who stole what memory?”

  “You’re taking a day off?” It was an astonishing concept.

  “Yes.” He tilted his head and held her with those incredible blue eyes, eyes that demanded an answer to his question.

  An uncomfortable silence descended, one finally broken by Austin. “It’s time we left,” he announced, of fering Nick his hand. “Your daughter is beautiful. Congratulations.”

  “It’s a good thing you arrived when you did,” Ruth added, giving her son-in-law a now-familiar hug. “You got here just in the nick of time.”

  “I seem to be making a habit of it.”

  “It’s a good habit.” She smiled gently. “Take care of your family.”

  For a brief instant, his grim expression eased. “You know I will.”

  Not that his good humor lasted. The minute her par ents !eft—dragging a reluctant Kendell along behind— he fixed his gaze on Dani. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the remote logic with which he usually regarded those peopling his world, or this cold, jaded look he’d assumed.

  “Well? Are you going to tell me?” he asked.

  “It’s just a phrase our family uses,” she explained awkwardly. “Anytime we do something that should involve everyone else and choose to exclude them, Mom always says we stole a memory from them.”

  “And what memory were you going to steal from me?”

  “I wasn’t planning on stealing anything from you. Kendell offered to take me home—”

  “Without me.”

  “Yes, without you. Before I could refuse, Mom stepped in.”

  She wasn’t certain whether or not he believed her. Looking at it from his perspective, she could understand why.
From the moment Abigail had been conceived, Dani had kept Nick in the dark. She’d stored up nine long months of memories, moments he’d never had an opportunity to share and could never reclaim. Worse, if she’d had her way, she’d have delivered their daughter without his presence or knowledge. For the first time, shame filled her.

  Looking back, she realized she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d excluded him from experiences that were his by right. She frowned as she mulled that over. If their situation had been reversed—if he’d kept vital information from her, information that would have directly affected her life—she’d have been furious. She’d have been more than furious. She’d probably never have forgiven him.

  And yet, instead of greeting her with fury, Nick had treated her with nothing but concern, respect and far more gentle caring than she deserved. True, he’d pushed her into marriage. But she could understand his reason for making such an outrageous’ demand, even if she didn’t like it. The idea of his child bearing Peter’s name must have been maddening, especially considering the animosity that had existed between the two men.

  Dani bit down on her lip. “I really am sorry, Nick.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped into the room and crossed to the bassinet. He didn’t hesitate. He reached down and stroked the smooth curve of Abigail’s cheek. “I’ve never felt anything so soft,” he murmured. “It’s like touching rose petals.”

  “Nick—”

  “Has the doctor approved your release?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then I’ll have them bring in a wheelchair so we can go. I’m parked downstairs.” He paused at the door, his back rigid. “And just so you know... I bought a car seat for Abigail. That’s why I’m late.”

  Dani had thought she couldn’t feel any worse. In one brief moment, Nick proved her wrong. She might be innocent on this occasion, but that didn’t correct past mistakes. By, the time he’d confirmed her release and returned with the wheelchair, she was ready to leave, Abigail clasped snug within her arms.

  The ride home proved excruciating. Although solicitous and ever-helpful, Nick hardly uttered a word. He’d withdrawn to some secret place all his own, a place Dani couldn’t follow. At long last they pulled up in front of her home—or rather, Peter’s home, she realized uncomfortably.

  Nick must have felt the same way. He eyed the stucco monstrosity with open displeasure. “The sooner you’re out of here, the happier I’ll be.”

  “Me, too. If it makes you feel any better, I’m hoping to find someplace smaller in the next year or so.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  She’d suspected as much. “I realize it’s too large,” she continued doggedly. “But it’ll do until after the divorce.” There. She’d said it.

  His mouth tightened. “No, it won’t. I don’t want you and Abigail staying here. I have a house that’s more than adequate for the three of us.”

  “I’m not moving in with you.”

  “No?” He swiveled in his seat to face her. “How do you plan to explain your decision to Ruth and Austin?”

  She set her jaw. “I’ll think of something.”

  “They expect us to.live together. Or have you forgotten that minor detail?”

  He was thinking of those damned sheets, she could tell from his expression. “I haven’t forgotten a thing!” She winced at the thoughtlessly sharp tone and cast a hasty look over her shoulder at Abigail. The baby slept peacefully in her car seat, oblivious to the discussion swirling around her innocent head. Deliberately lowering her voice, Dani said, “Living together isn’t part of our deal, Nick. We agreed to a one-year marriage in exchange for my continued help at SSI. I did not agree to sleep with you.”

  “I’m renegotiating the terms.”

  “You can’t!”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Try to stop me.”

  “That won’t be a problem. It only takes one simple word. No.”

  To her utter astonishment, a smile cut across his face. “Yeah, right. I recall how much success you had using that one simple word last time.”

  “That’s a rotten thing to say!” True, but rotten, nonetheless. “It was an accident. A mistake. A one-time event. It certainly isn’t sufficient foundation for a marriage.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  She recognized his intent the instant before he reached for her. “Please, don’t,” she half-moaned. “Not again.”

  His mouth was close, so damned close. “Why? Do you hate it so much?”

  No, she didn’t. And therein lay the problem. She liked everything about him. She liked his touch, his taste, his kisses.

  Especially his kisses. But she also liked hot fudge on apple pie. That didn’t mean it was good for her, partic- . ularly in large doses. But with Nick... One tiny slice wasn’t enough. It didn’t even come close to satisfying.

  She shook her head in bewilderment. “Why me, Nick? Why not someone else?”

  “Because no one else can keep me warm. And I want to be warm, sweetheart. I’ve waited a lifetime to be warm.”

  She didn’t understand, at least not his words. The fervor of his kisses, the undisguised hunger—that made sense. There, and there alone, they were attuned. It wasn’t love she felt. It couldn’t be. Lust. Passion. Sexual appetite. All those things she could accept. But not love. She couldn’t trust love, or the man offering it. Love meant she’d lose again. Love meant giving up her life. Love meant pain and coldness and disillusionment.

  Love was unacceptable.

  He closed that final inch separating them, sealing her lips with his, stopping her words as well as her thoughts. His kisses shouldn’t get better. This desperate desire should ease with familiarity, not increase. And then sheer sensation took over.

  How could she have forgotten how profoundly he affected her? Her lips parted, inviting the heat, welcoming the sweet invasion. He was a man of discipline, and yet the instant they touched, his control shattered. He demanded, then coaxed. Teased, then tempted. The movement of his mouth and tongue dictated a rhythm only he could sense. And yet, her body seemed to remember it, and she found herself following his lead, rejoicing in the raw power behind his primitive inner song.

  His hands sank deep into her hair, tilting her head so he could fully explore her mouth. She clung to him while memories stormed her mind. She remembered that night, that incredible, unforgettable night. He’d made love to her on the floor in front of the hearth, and with each delicious thrust had forever imprinted himself on her heart and soul. Heat gathered in the pit of her stomach, and she almost groaned. She’d just had a baby. How could she possibly want him so soon after giving birth to Abigail?

  That brought her up short. Oh, heaven help her. Abigail.

  How could she have forgotten? With a quick twist, she pulled free of his hold, the sound of her breath in the enclosed car coming loud and frantic. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Then he cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

  “What you feel for me may not be a solid foundation for marriage. At least, not yet. But it’s a start. Whether you like it or not, we’re a family. This is my baby, too. And I fully intend to be a father to her.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Yes, you would. But I’m giving you fair warning. I’m not going to allow it.”

  “What... what do you mean?”

  “I mean that I don’t intend to have any more memories stolen from me.”

  “I made a mistake.” She confessed the painful truth. “I should have told you I was pregnant. I’m sorry I didn’t. More sorry than you’ll ever know. But I can’t handle this marriage. Not right now.”

  “And I can’t let you go.” They were the same words he’d spoken at their wedding ceremony, said in the same rough tone of voice. “You’ve given me a taste of heaven. Is it any wonder I don’t want to leave?”

  “I can’t love someone like you.” The words escaped of their own accord, a cry from the heart,
an echo of a past hurt.

  “Why?”

  She flinched at the question. “I already told you. Because you’re no safer to love than Peter.” She couldn’t survive another emotionless marriage. She couldn’t!

  “You’re wrong, wife. You may not want me for a husband, but that’s too damn bad. Because for the next year, you’re stuck with me.”

  With that, he left the car. Circling to her side, he helped her out. Then he opened the rear door and extracted Abigail from the car seat. Cradling her against his shoulder, he inclined his head toward the front porch. “Let’s go.”

  As much as Dani wanted to complain about his take-charge attitude, she didn’t dare. At the door, she punched in her code three different times before Gem deigned to shut down the security system and allow them entry.

  The instant they were inside, Nick handed over the baby. “System override,” he snapped. “Colter zero-zero-one.”

  “WELCOME HOME, MR. COLTER,” Gem responded.

  “Request immediate system change. Do you have a copy of Dani’s voice imprint in memory?”

  “AFFIRMATIVE, MR. COLTER.”

  “All locks are to respond to her verbal request through level-two security. Is that clear?”

  “AS THE PROVERBIAL CRYSTAL, MR. COLTER.”

  “What did you just do?” Dani demanded. “What did all that mean?”

  “I don’t want you fooling around with buttons and code numbers when you arrive home with the baby. From now on just announce yourself and ask Gem to open the door.”

  “Just like that? I say open sesame and everything unlocks?”

  “Just like that. Although I’d leave out the ‘sesame’ part. Gem doesn’t do humor.”

  “Wait just one darned minute. I want to make sure I understand this. I tell this hunk of miswired circuitry to let me in, and she does it. No alarms? No police? No buttons to push or numbers to remember?”

  “Not a one.”

  “How long has she been able to do that?”

  “From the beginning.”

  Anger stirred. “From the beginning. As in the very beginning? As in when Peter and I joined the firm?”