Reclaiming His Bride (DiCarlo Brides book 3) (The DiCarlo Brides) Page 6

  “We were in Vegas for a hotel convention and got a little tipsy and just got married on the spur of the moment. But then we didn’t tell anyone and I caught him cheating a couple of weeks later and now we’re haggling over divorce papers.” She said the last part in a rush, wanting to get it all out before Rosemary could regain her power of speech.

  “Whoa. You guys are married? Really? And he cheated on you? I’m seriously going to pound him to a pulp.” Rosemary stood as if she were going to do so right that minute, then whirled around and faced Lana in disbelief. “And then you slept with him again? You need to work on your self-control, sister.”

  “I know!” Lana put her face in her hands. “I was lonely and sad, and again, more than a little tipsy, and he looked so good and when he kissed me—Rosemary, his kisses just make my knees melt and I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never felt that way with anyone else—ever. I want so badly to believe in him and to trust him when he says nothing happened with Fiona, but I just can’t take the chance.” She peeked out between her fingers. “Do you think this is the way Dad charmed all of our mothers?”

  “Okay, first off, Fiona? Really? I didn’t know they named people things like that. I thought that was strictly for cartoon characters.”

  Lana snorted in amusement. “I wouldn’t have thought they named people Delphinium if our sister didn’t get stuck with it.”

  “True. But Fiona is such a floozy name. Seriously.” Rosemary waved her hand in emphasis. “And what do you think happened between him and Fiona, if he’s claiming it was nothing?”

  Lana remembered the way Fiona had latched onto Blake’s arm, looking over his shoulder, and the way he’d touched her hand. Lana had turned away then, jealousy and despair eating at her. “It wasn’t like I caught him en flagrante, or anything, but they were cuddling up together in public. It was disgusting.”

  “And heartbreaking.” Rosemary’s voice was filled with sympathy.

  “Who are you?” Lana turned eyes on Rosemary. “I thought you were supposed to be the devil-may-care damn-all-men sister. What has you all mushy and nice? Do you need something? Like medication to put you back to normal?”

  Rosemary stood and threw her hands up and swore. “I can’t believe you. I try to show a little sympathy and you think I have an ulterior motive?”

  Lana wished she’d kept her mouth shut. “Okay, sorry, it’s just I’ve never seen you like this.” Everything was upside down and topsy-turvy at the moment.

  “I can be nice. I have feelings too, you know. I like who I am most of the time, but sometimes I can be a friend too. And you’re in a bad spot.” Rosemary turned toward the window, from which Lana could just make out the upper edge of the hotel as it peeked above the trees. “And I’m spoiling for a fight, so I’d love to have a round with Blake about cheating on you.”

  Lana was amused and a little touched, even though she told herself she shouldn’t be. “If you want to have a fight, go pick on Harrison. The two of you have seriously got to learn to get along. Leave Blake to me.”

  Rosemary sat again, setting a hand on Lana’s knee. “So does he know?”

  Lana wet her lips, not wanting to admit it. “No. It hasn’t been long since I found out. I haven’t told him. I don’t know how.”

  “You’re have to do it soon. You’ll probably be showing by Christmas. It would be good if he didn’t find out the first time you wear maternity clothing.”

  Lana put a hand to her stomach. “Maternity clothing? Don’t even say that. I’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe.”

  “So?” Rosemary shrugged. “You probably love clothes shopping. You’re always going gaga over a pair of boots in magazines—and I’ve seen your closet. You have enough shoes to fit every woman in this town.”

  “It’s not that bad, and that’s boots, shoes—not clothes. I hate clothes shopping. Nothing fits quite right and all of the business-appropriate suits drive me a little crazy. I could have clothes tailored, but I hate standing for fittings. And then it’s going to come out that Blake and I are married, and the whole scandal thing will start all over again—as if the mess with the ‘ghost’ isn’t bad enough.”

  Rosemary touched her arm. “Hey, chill, all right? You’ll be fine. Blake will probably make a good dad, and you’re both working on the divorce, aren’t you?”

  Lana wrapped her arms around her stomach and pursed her lips. “He’s actually working against it, or we would be long over. Blake wants to get back together. He’s been trying ever since, well, since I saw him with Fiona.” That wasn’t quite accurate. She’d grabbed her things from his apartment and told him where to shove it. Thinking back, he’d seemed a little shell shocked, so maybe that explained why he had only protested half-heartedly. After that there had been a single voice mail message saying that when she came to her senses, he’d be ready to talk.

  She didn’t contact him, and he didn’t try to reach her again for a couple of months. By the time he approached her next, she’d already filed for divorce.

  “So what does he say happened that day?” Rosemary asked.

  Lana bit her lip. “He tried to tell me, but I was too mad to listen.” Any excuse would be just that and she didn’t think she could stand it if he fed her more lies. She’d seen secret lovers clasped together like that before and dismissed it, not wanting to believe what it meant. No way was she going to make that mistake twice. He’d tried to talk to her several times since they started working together that summer, but she avoided being alone with him. She couldn’t stand to hear the kind of excuses her dad had fed her when she confronted him about an affair.

  “Well, maybe it’s time you found out, and told him about the baby. He has a right to know, and you’ll never be able to move on until you have the answers.” She pursed her lips and headed for the doorway. “Those kinds of secrets never make anyone happy.”

  Lana hated that she was right.

  Caught puking again, Lana thought as she tried to talk her way out of going home early. This time it was the office manager she and Blake shared with Harrison. “Really, Gina. I’m fine. Just something off about breakfast, probably. I’ll have to check the expiration date on my cream cheese.” She wondered how long people would fall for that line.

  “You really need to be more careful about those expiration dates,” Blake said from behind her.

  She closed her eyes in resignation. He bought it about the milk before. No way was he stupid enough to buy it again. He took her arm and turned her so he could study her face.

  “You do look pale. Have you been throwing up again? Maybe it’s time you went to a doctor.” He touched her forehead with the back of his hand to check for a fever.

  She wondered if she got up earlier in the day, would it make the morning sickness end before she had to be to work? “I’m fine. Really. Sensitive stomach, that’s all.”

  His eyes narrowed at her as he flipped his hand and cradled her cheek with his palm. “I don’t remember you having a sensitive stomach.” He led her to his office and sat her on the sofa. “Lie down and put your feet up. If you aren’t feeling better soon, I’m calling the doctor and making you an appointment. I ought to anyway. You could have a bug or something.”

  Gina gave them one last look and returned to her desk—that was one less set of prying eyes for Lana to deal with. Unfortunately, she thought the ones left on her were probably shrewder. He knew her better.

  As if to confirm that, he pulled a chair over and sat across from her. “How long has this been bothering you, and how have you managed to keep working if you’ve been sick so much?”

  “It kind of comes and goes,” she said vaguely. “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

  He wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Have you seen a doctor? Are you taking anything for it?”

  She’d finally gone in for a checkup after the previous time he’d caught her puking, so she could answer honestly. “Yes, I’ve seen a doctor, and yes, he’s given me a prescription, and the upset stomach shou
ld go away soon.” He didn’t have to know the prescription had been for prenatal pills, or that they made her more sick, not less. She would have to try taking them at night instead. She felt guilty for prevaricating when she knew she would have to tell him soon, but she didn’t think she could deal with him hovering.

  He touched a hand to her forehead again—it was light and gentle, almost a caress. “You don’t have a fever.”

  “Nope, it’s no big deal, really. In a few more weeks I’ll be perfectly fine.” She moved to stand, their proximity making her antsy, but he put a hand on her shoulder, holding her down.

  “In a few weeks?” His expression changed from confused to suspicious. “Hold on. Your sickness comes and goes. Just in the morning, or all day long?”

  She must have looked as guilty as she felt, because his face grew grim as he strode to the door, shutting it, then leaning back against it to skewer her with his angry eyes. “Are you pregnant?”

  Her first instinct was to lie, but what good would that do? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t find out eventually. Realizing she’d stopped breathing, she forced herself to start again before she met his gaze. She nodded.

  Disbelief covered his face. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me? And dammit, Lana, this better be my child.” He strode back across the room to her.

  She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. He was mad she was pregnant, mad about their baby. “I’ve known for a couple of weeks.”

  “Were you planning to tell me, or were you going to try to hide the pregnancy for the next,” he paused as if counting, “seven months or so?” He lifted a hand to his face as she opened her eyes to his ire. “And so help me, Lana if this isn’t my child—”

  “It is! Of course it is.” She bit her lip for a moment, then looked at him and forced herself to speak calmly. “I’m not sure what to do about it. That’s why I haven’t said anything. I don’t know what I think, I can’t get my mind straight. And we have enough on our plates without throwing this into the mix. The divorce—”

  “Is going to be a real mess if you insist on it when you’re having my child, Lana.” He sat across from her again, though he didn’t touch her this time. “I will not be a distant father. If you would just get over your pride and give me a chance, you’d know I’ve never been unfaithful to you.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “There hasn’t been any other woman for me since before we started dating. And there won’t be again. Ever. If you could just give us a chance.” His eyes pled with her.

  “I gave us a chance once.” Anger filled her as she thought of the hurt that had plagued her when she saw him with Fiona—and the hurt when he hadn’t fought for her after she left him.

  “You did not. You took the first—totally innocent—excuse you could muster and ran. You can’t stand the possibility that you could get hurt. People who really love each other risk getting hurt.” He took a deep breath, then shifted to sit beside her on the sofa and wrapped his big, warm palm around hers. “I’m not perfect, Lana. But I love you more than anything. I’m not your father, and I’m not going to go from your bed to anyone else’s. You’re everything I need.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut again, wanting so desperately to believe him, but not daring to. It was so much risk, so hard. How could she take the chance that he’d hurt her like her father must have hurt her mother again and again. Blake traveled often; he had to for his job—just like her father had. How would she know what he was doing on those trips? “How can I be sure?” Her voice was weak and she fought tears. Being worn out from puking wasn’t helping her emotions right now.

  “Give me a chance to prove it. We’ll work something out, somehow, so we can work close together. When the year is up here, if you don’t want to stay, maybe we can find jobs in the same city. I don’t have to travel, Lana. I’d rather be home with you every night.”

  She heard the sincerity in his voice, but she knew her mother had heard it in George’s voice too, far too many times while he lied through his teeth.

  “I love you, Lana. Just please, let me be there for you.” Blake’s deep southern tones penetrated right to her heart, making her want to lean on him.

  She took a shaky breath and pushed the hair back from her face. “I need to think about it.”

  When he spoke again, there was disappointment in his voice. “Fine. You rest here until our meeting in,” he checked his watch, “twenty minutes.”

  She had to face the executive department heads in twenty minutes? Everyone would be there and she was a wreck. “I’ll go rest in my office.” She needed space from him to regain her composure.

  “It’s not necessary. You know you’re always welcome here.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t stay. I need to regroup. Alone.”

  He hesitated. “Can you make it there by yourself?”

  “I’m fine.” She let an edge of irritation enter her voice, then reined it in, willing herself to at least try being civil. She needed to go to that meeting acting level-headed and together. No way could she let everyone know what a basket case she’d become. “I’m feeling better. Don’t worry about me. I’m always better after I puke.” She stood, feeling only a second of dizziness before her head cleared, then walked, her back ramrod straight, to the door.

  He let her go without protest, but she felt his gaze on her until she was out of sight.

  Of course Blake was at Lana’s birthday party. Hadn’t her sisters figured out that she didn’t want to spend time with him? They didn’t have to know about the couple’s history to get that much straight, did they? Lana smiled at him in welcome and wondered if her smile looked as plastic to him as it felt.

  He’d tried to speak with her several times in the past two days, but she had managed to put him off. He knew about the baby—that was about all she could handle at the moment. Getting too close to him tended to end in some kind of action that either made her want to slap him, or to kiss him and never let go.

  Neither option was particularly smart.

  So why did he come, knowing how they sparked off each other—and not just in a good way?

  Rosemary brought out a cake covered in blue frosting that rose and fell like ocean waves. There were sea animals playing in the water, seaweed and plants circling the bottom. “Wow. Okay, seriously, wow. I love it.” Lana spun the cake so she could see all of the details, unable to stop herself from smiling as she looked at the masterpiece.

  “I’m glad you like it. I figured you must like ocean stuff, since Dad practically wallpapered your room with it.” Rosemary stuck her thumbs in her front pockets, trying to act as though she hadn’t been the least worried about what Lana would think, but the relief on her face made it clear she wasn’t as self-assured as she pretended.

  Lana had figured out well before the summer came to an end that Rosemary was all bluster and bravado. She pretended to be inner-city tough, but she was all gooey inside. One of these days, they’d break through her shell and everyone would see the truth.

  Cami stood against one wall, wrapped in Vince’s arms as she watched, and Blake stood beside them. He was hanging back, but made sure she knew he was there. It was his best tactic. And it worked all too well.

  “First, presents!” Rosemary said. “Even though you’re going to melt into puddles of joy when you taste this baby.” She referred back to her cake.

  “What kind is it?” Lana asked.

  “Chocolate midnight cake. It has chocolate ganache between the layers of cherry chocolate cake,” Rosemary said.

  Lana already wanted to melt into a puddle of joy. “You must have been channeling Sage or something. That’s my favorite.”

  “Actually, Blake suggested it.” Rosemary glanced his direction, a look of knowing in her eyes.

  Lana looked at him in surprise.

  He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

  Big fat liar. He was well aware that was her favorite. They’d been dating during her last birthday and she’d
told him then. She loved that he remember the little details.

  She opened boxes with purses, shoes and a new watch, but the gift she loved and resented the most was the large globe of water, a miniature ocean like a snow globe, that Blake gave her with fish and dolphins swimming inside. It always threw her a little that he knew her so well when they’d dated for such a short period of time.

  She lifted her gaze to his when she opened it, surprise rocketing through her. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I saw it and thought of you.” His gaze never left hers.

  What could she say to that? He hadn’t purchased it on the spur of the moment, because you couldn’t buy something like that in town. Lana was relieved when Rosemary announced it was time to cut the cake.

  Before the executive meeting a week later, Lana looked up at Joel’s knock on her office door. “You have a minute?” he asked.

  “Of course. What’s going on?” She saved her document, then turned her full attention on him.

  “When Mike was doing his rounds this morning, he found this.” He passed over his phone to show a picture that had been emailed to it. In it, the red landscaping rocks from the back of the grounds had been moved to the courtyard and arranged in the snow-covered flowerbeds to spell Muerte—murder in Spanish.

  Lana wanted to curse, but held back. “Did he take care of it?”

  “Of course, the rocks are back where they belong, but who knows if anyone else saw it before he cleared it up.” He shrugged massive shoulders and adjusted the brace he still wore from a run-in with Sage’s stalker the previous month. “I’ll have him check last night’s video feed for that area to see if we can figure out who it might have been, but whoever is doing this has been very careful so far, either staying out of video range, or getting to the machines to interfere with the feed. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “It just doesn’t end.” She handed the phone back to him thinking that nothing like this ever happened to her father. “Add it to the file.” It seemed so harmless, and normally she would have shrugged it off, but the instances were growing in number. “Please tell me it wasn’t along the middle of that same wing.”