A Love Like This - Diana Palmer Page 0,126

willing to give yourself to me in Jamaica.” He laughed at her startled expression. “That’s right, tidbit, I knew before you did. But there was Bess, and I didn’t think I wanted that kind of involvement. But when I saw you lying in bed in that sexy nightgown, and I got hot and bothered like I never had before...” He bent and brushed his mouth over hers, reveling in its soft, trembling response. “After that, bad went to worse. I didn’t really want to seduce you at the ranch, but my body got the best of me.”

“Yes, so did mine.” She sighed, nuzzling his cheek. She closed her eyes. “It’s been hard living with it, King,” she whispered.

“How do you feel about starting over again?” He touched her abdomen. “And decide quick, would you? I think he’s already growing.”

She grinned at him, drunk with happiness. “As if I could have stopped loving you.” She laughed. “Seven weeks, damn you!” She hit him.

He crushed his mouth down on hers, suddenly all man, all domination, burning her with his ardor. “Damn you, too,” he growled, his lips hard against her mouth. “Calling it a ‘cheap little roll in the hay,’ when I’d never loved a woman that way in my life. Sticking a knife in my pride, my heart. I went off like a wounded animal to lick my wounds, then went to Jamaica with my heart in my hands to offer to you...and you’d gone. You’d sold the cottage and taken Warchief, and the real-estate agent said you hated the cottage and everything connected with it.” His eyes narrowed. “I guessed that meant me, too. So I went back to Oklahoma and drank myself into a stupor, then set about working myself to death.”

“While I was sure you were going to marry Bess,” she murmured. “I knew how you felt...”

“How you thought I felt,” he corrected. He kissed her softly. “I slept with you for one night, and it ruined me for any other woman. You’ve haunted my dreams ever since. An innocent, and you gave me the first total fulfillment I’ve ever had.”

She smiled against his mouth, bristling with pride. “Sitting up, too,” she murmured, and she blushed wildly.

“Don’t smile about it, you brazen hussy,” he taunted. “I needed my head examined. I prayed every night that you’d end up pregnant,” he confessed, “because I knew you’d send for me. Your sense of honor would force you to. And then I’d come to you and take care of you and find some way to make you love me again.” He traced her breasts, watching them tauten in the moonlight.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, loving the sensation, “that my parents are just down the beach.”

He kissed her softly. “I hadn’t forgotten,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’m not about to give them any more cause to resent me.”

He helped her back into her robe and pulled her onto his knees, cradling her.

“How could they resent the father of their very own grandchild?” she whispered, her mouth brushing warmly over his. “He’s going to be just like his daddy.” She smiled. “Tall and dark and handsome and gentle.”

“Blue-eyed,” he whispered, tilting her warm mouth up to his.

“Brown-eyed,” she whispered back, and drew his lips over hers.

A long time later, he lifted his head. “Elissa?”

“What?” she murmured dreamily.

“I think we have company.”

She looked up. Her father was sitting on one side of them, his knees drawn up under his bathrobe, watching the surf. Her mother was on the other side, similarly clad, humming.

“Lovely night,” Mr. Dean remarked.

“Lovely,” his wife agreed.

King and Elissa burst out laughing. “The marriage license and the rings are in my jacket pocket,” King told them. “All we need is a quick blood test and a quiet little ceremony, which we hope you’ll perform. You, uh, might have noticed that we’ve rather jumped the gun,” he added with a sheepish smile.

“She likes kosher pickles in her corn flakes, and he wonders if we’ve noticed that they’ve rather jumped the gun,” Mr. Dean addressed his wife.

“Yes, dear, I heard.” Mrs. Dean grinned.

“And in case it crossed your mind,” King murmured, glancing wickedly down at Elissa, “we’ve been controlling those interesting impulses that led us to this delicious complication. We’ve just been trying to decide what color his eyes will be.”

“I like girls,” Mr. Dean suggested.

“What’s wrong with a boy?” Tina asked innocently.

“Maybe it will be both,” Mr. Dean remarked. “Her appetite has been extraordinary.”

“I’d like twins,” King murmured, his eyes shining

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