Hope’s Child Read online

  “Well enough.”

  “I think you should stay home and nap while I go to the picnic. After all, you have to stay up later to make sure everyone clears out safely after the fireworks display tonight.”

  “I’m not going to make you go to that alone.”

  “I’d miss you, but I’d feel better knowing you weren’t jeopardizing your health—or safety.” Lyon had been doing his share to make up for being short an officer since Chris Sealy got picked up by the Dallas PD. He and his young family had moved away two weeks ago and Lyon had been told by the mayor to delay hiring a replacement. Remembering that, Hope asked, “Any word on whether the city has removed the hold on hiring?”

  Instead of answering, Lyon took a long sip of his lemonade.

  The subtle evasion didn’t fool Hope. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “They’re finally going to put my contract on the agenda for Monday’s city council meeting.”

  “No!”

  “So now you know why I didn’t want you going to the picnic alone. I was hoping to delay you learning about that for as long as possible, and knew someone would be more likely to mention it to you if I wasn’t around.”

  “Thank you for sparing me an ambush, but what about my right to hear it from you as soon as you got the news? Forget that.” Hope circled the counter so she could put her arms around him. “Lyon, how can this be continuing when the autopsy report clearly vindicates you?”

  “Your father’s a stubborn old bull, you know that.” He swung his chair a quarter turn to place her more comfortably between his thighs. “And our marriage has been sheer antagonism to him. Kent held him off as long as he could, but Ellis’ man on the council is Dub Mooney and Dub is Ted Pettigrew’s source for what’s happening behind closed doors. Dub told Kent to either add it to the agenda or Ted was going to print an editorial about political subversion inside of city hall and go after his job.”

  They hadn’t heard much out of her father lately, but Hope knew better than to think he’d been idle. “Dub can’t get more than two votes against you,” she declared after doing the mental calculations.

  “Maybe not this time. But Ellis is patient. Next time it may be three, the next four. That’s another reason for me to be visible as much as possible.” His hands clasping her waist, he stroked her abdomen with his thumbs. “So next subject, please.”

  Hope wasn’t as eager to move on. “You made me not want to attend.”

  “Don’t say that. You know that would disappoint lots of people, particularly the seniors who just sit and watch and hope for someone to pause and give them a little attention. You’re always very generous with them.”

  His suede voice and coaxing words took the edge off of her indignation and anger with her father. Sighing she hugged him tighter. “Thank you for reminding me there are more important things to focus on.”

  “Are you wearing that? Because if you are, the only thing anyone will be focusing on is how radiant and luscious you’re looking.”

  Hope had been delightfully surprised herself at how good she’d been feeling so far, and knew the pink-and-purple T-shirt’s v-neckline was also exposing that she hadn’t only rounded out a bit more in the tummy, but cleavage-wise, as well. “No, I’m wearing a patriotic tunic top with glitter and sequins. I’m not ready to announce anything until I’m through my first trimester.”

  “So this was all for my personal torment? Thank you.”

  “I’d planned to change before your return.” Although there was a smile on Lyon’s lips, Hope saw there was a slow burn going on behind those dark eyes and that made it impossible for her to ignore what that did to her libido and keep her own tone light. “Don’t look at me that way.”

  “What way?”

  The fact that he was willing to ante up the sizzle between them told her that he was disturbed about the upcoming meeting, too, and was in need of diversion. “Lyon, don’t play with fire. You said it yourself—we have a busy day ahead of us.”

  “That’s why I need a better hug.”

  Because of the entreaty she heard in his voice and yearning she saw in his eyes, she yielded to the hands that urged her closer. She knew what a risk it was and how the timing was all wrong. Painstakingly prepared food was expected…there were places to go…things to see to before that…but as soon as their bodies touched and he closed his mouth over hers, the desire that was never far from the surface short-circuited her ability to reason.

  They had been navigating this sensual terrain with care, and yet not without a cost to their willpower. After weeks of living under the same roof, sharing meals and chores, they were growing more than comfortable in each other’s company; their lives were becoming entwined—exactly as a married couple’s should. Except that their unconventional marriage denied them the full, natural intimacy that would complete their union. Even the limited foreplay they assured each other was safe and helpful to ease sexual tension was having a counter-productive effect. It was evident in the deeper hunger of Lyon’s kiss, and the intensity and possessiveness of his embrace. And when he slid his hands into her hair and all but feasted on her, she knew if he lifted her onto the counter, she would be hard-pressed to stop him.

  With a groan, Lyon buried his face in the dark tunnel created by her hair and grazed the side of her neck with his teeth. “I’ve tried, but I can’t stop wanting you.”

  And she wanted him. But the one thing that held her back was the commitment to herself that he could still get out of this union if he needed to. “I’m not being fair to you. Maybe you should…maybe if there’s someone you’re used to seeing—”

  He recoiled as if he’d been struck. “Don’t even go there.”

  “I’m being pragmatic,” she entreated.

  “We’re married.” Lyon looked so dumbfounded that he eased her aside and rose from the chair, paced several feet before fixing her with a stare as though she was suddenly a complete stranger to him. “I told you there was no one. Could you do that?”

  “I’m pregnant!”

  “And we’re married.” With a harsh oath, he headed for the back door. “I need some air,” he muttered.

  Hope watched him go, miserable and torn. She really had trapped him into a life of a celibate monk with this arrangement. It was so unfair, so unfair.

  Hours later as night fell and the town collected to wait for the fireworks to begin Lyon was still stinging from Hope’s suggestion. He couldn’t believe that she’d all but encouraged him to be with another woman. Like a barbed hook caught in his flesh, he could barely breathe, let alone move, without sharp pain incapacitating him. Did Will do such a number on her self-esteem that she thought all men were capable and willing to behave like that regardless of commitment or respect for her reputation?

  It had to be the pregnancy doing something to her logic. “Pragmatic” his backside. She wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her—and he was on the edge of eaten up with it. What was holding her back?

  He’d never seen her more beautiful and desirable than she was now, blooming with the life inside her. He watched her yards away sitting on a blanket with Kent Roberts’ two kids, trying to keep them entertained while wife Shana gave the new baby a bottle. Hope was routinely dipping a long-stemmed wand into the container of soap and blowing bubbles that the children were trying to make land on their hands and arms like resting butterflies, then squealing when they burst. With her white sparkly top and her gleeful smile, Hope outshined everyone in his range of vision—even the stars. He didn’t want this relentless ache in his belly, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  “We lucked out all around this year, didn’t we?” the mayor said coming up beside him and leaning against his patrol car as Lyon was doing. “Just enough rain this week to keep the fire threat minimal, but not enough to make the fair grounds a disaster for parking and picnicking.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lyon replied.

  “It was still a good idea to spray for mosquitoes earlier i
n the week. Glad you suggested that.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Of course, I’d feel a lot better if that herd of feral hogs wasn’t getting too close for comfort.”

  “Uh—” Lyon turned his head and frowned at Kent. “What did you say?”

  “Just checking to see if you were paying attention.” His old schoolmate matched Lyon’s stance—arms and ankles crossed—and nodded at his family and Hope. “Marriage obviously agrees with her. I don’t know when I’ve seen her looking better, and that’s no empty compliment.”

  “Can’t disagree with you,” Lyon replied.

  “Does she know about the meeting on Monday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You going to let her attend?”

  Hope was her own woman. The idea that he could order her to stay away was nothing short of ludicrous, and the look he gave his friend said as much.

  The stocky man with the wavy brown hair shrugged. “She’s your wife. I figured there were some things Miss Independent would now be willing to defer to you on.”

  “How’s that working for you with Shana?”

  Kent rubbed at his whisker-darkened chin. “Good point. But then you’re still on your honeymoon. Shana hasn’t forgiven me for getting her pregnant again before the other two were out of preschool.”

  Although Lyon winced inwardly at the word “honeymoon,” he replied, “Bet your Italian mother and grandmother aren’t complaining.” He so wanted to get the conversation off of him and Hope.

  “Mom’s bringing Grandma Lombardo back from Italy on Saturday. I may be persona non grata in my own bedroom, but at least my stomach will be pampered for the next few months.”

  Lyon knew Kent was kidding about any marital stress. Earlier he’d seen Shana watching Kent with the baby and her sheer adoration was impossible to miss. In contrast, he and Hope hadn’t said ten words to each other since arriving here in separate cars, since she’d been right about his responsibilities and needing to linger after she would be ready to return home. Of course, that was his fault. He was the one who had been keeping his distance and when they did speak, his answers to her attempts at conversation indicated his lack of receptivity. He didn’t mean to be curt, let alone rude, but he was also in no frame of mind to pretend he wasn’t troubled and wounded.

  “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

  Although he knew Kent was referring to the council meeting, Lyon’s thoughts lingered on his relationship with his in-name-only wife. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Well, it’s time for me to get this show going.” The mayor slapped him on the back. “See you later.”

  As Kent made his way to the flatbed trailer where several bands and singers had been entertaining all afternoon, Lyon saw Hope close the bubble container and put it in one of Shana’s two totes. Then she made her way over to him.

  “This is quite a turnout,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “Best we’ve had in a few years.”

  “We’re almost not a rural community anymore.”

  “Have things been going well? I saw the ambulance rush to the pool area earlier.

  “Did that teenager who hit the side of the pool with his ribs crack them?”

  “Only bruised. The rest of the day has been okay. I’m sure we’ll find some empty beer cans in the parking area later. If that’s all, then we’re doing good.”

  Lyon could feel her gaze on him but resisted looking down at her. If he did, he would be lost.

  “Lyon, please don’t be angry with me.”

  “I’m not.” He wanted to be, that was the truth. Yet all he could manage was wanting her and aching because of it.

  “I was only trying to be fair.”

  “What’s more fair than being the man you need me to be?”

  His quiet truth brought her hand on his bare arm and her forehead against the patch on his shoulder. He could smell her coconut shampoo and sugar body lotion seep through his senses and intoxicate him like a narcotic, but he didn’t let himself touch her back.

  As Kent took the stage and yelled, “How’re y’all doing?” and the crowd erupted in cheers, Hope sighed and stepped back.

  “I’m probably going to head home before the show is over. I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Your cell phone battery still got a charge?” Lyon asked keeping his gaze on Kent.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Take care and sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  Freakin’ fat chance, he thought in abject misery.

  Chapter Six

  By the end of the month, Hope knew two things: Lyon had almost forgiven her for what happened on the Fourth of July, and he still was Chief of Police of Cedar Grove. As a result, she should be as happy—or at least as content—as she’d been on July third, but it was now July thirty-first—Lyon’s birthday—and nothing was going well.

  She sat in Emergency at Cedar Grove General waiting on her father’s doctor to report on Ellis’ condition. He’d been admitted at eleven last night complaining of chest pains, and Hope had arrived shortly afterward when her father’s butler, Greenleaf, called with the news that an ambulance had just carried him away. It had been a long night and thus far all she knew was that they were performing one test after another. Now it was almost seven o’clock and she’d hoped to be serving Lyon an extra special breakfast to start his thirty-sixth birthday off well. So far nothing else had helped to repair the chasm in their relationship. Instead she was sipping a diet soft drink because she needed the caffeine to stay awake, but her stomach couldn’t bear one more sip of the tar they called coffee at the courtesy counter. Fortunately, she was the only one in the waiting room and didn’t have to worry about making small talk when she least felt like it.

  However no sooner did that thought pass through her mind when she heard the sliding doors open. Although he didn’t look like he’d gotten any more sleep than she did, her insides melted at the sight of him, so handsome and official in his dark blue uniform. Belatedly, she noticed he carried a white sack.

  “Hi,” she said softly smoothing her hair and starting to rise.

  “Stay put,” he said. He set the bag on the coffee table, kissed the top of her head, and sat down beside her. “Any word?”

  “Not yet.” Hope felt a little dazed since that was the first time he’d voluntarily touched her in weeks. “They keep running tests.”

  “Maybe that’s good news. If they’d found something, surely they would have told you by now.”

  “I hope you’re right. It’s so good of you to come, Lyon.” She started to reach out, then checked herself and clasped her hands in her lap. She wouldn’t make him uncomfortable, especially on his day. “Happy Birthday. I wanted to cook for you before you headed to the station, but—”

  This time he kissed her silent. “It’s a sweet thought, but don’t worry about it. Did you get any sleep?”

  “I rested a little here on the couch.” She had folded up the blanket that had been given to her and returned it to the nurse over two hours ago. “Did you?” He certainly didn’t look it. While appealing as ever and freshly shaved, his eyes were bloodshot and he had the same dark shadows under his eyes as she saw under hers in the bathroom mirror when she freshened up.

  “Not much. I was worried about you.”

  He made her want to curl up on his lap and purr like a kitten. She had to look away until the burning threat of tears passed, then gestured to the clerk at Admittance, and to the security cameras. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  “I meant worried about you and Biscuit being around all these sick people and not getting enough rest.” He took both of her hands within his much larger ones and stared at that contrast as he stroked her with his thumbs. “The house has never been so quiet. It felt bereft.”

  That was not a tough-cop or football-jock word, but Hope knew Lyon used it with his own quiet truth because he was a reader. Not a latest NY Times bestseller aficionado, but someone who found moments in his life when ed
ucation and experience had left him lacking in answers and he was seeking to fill those voids. Closing her eyes, Hope lowered her head until her cheek rested on his hands.

  “Thank you.” She could easily have fallen asleep like that—his warmth and strength her pillow.

  “Don’t get so comfortable that you go to sleep now, I’d be loathe to wake you up. Look what I brought you—your favorite French Vanilla decaf Cappuccino and a breakfast sandwich. You should eat while it’s hot.”

  But before she could reach into the bag for the drink cup, Dr. Gandolf came around the corner looking more fatigued than either of them. “Hope…hello, Chief.” He shook Lyon’s hand and then focused on her. “I don’t know what caused this episode. Let’s get that out of the way first and foremost. As best as we can tell, he didn’t suffer a heart attack or stroke, or angina attack. That’s not saying that something isn’t going on, but we’ll have to get him to a different facility in either Tyler or Dallas for further testing to know for sure.”

  “But he was in pain.”

  Dr. Gandolf shrugged. “Maybe indigestion, although I listened to his stomach and there was no hint of distress there.”

  With a flash of intuition, Hope said, “He won’t let you send him anywhere for tests.”

  “Well, then maybe you can talk to him because—”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Doctor, I believe you were right with your first guess. There’s nothing wrong.” Rubbing the kinks out of her neck, Hope gave the silver-haired, drained doctor an apologetic smile. “He pulled one over on you, Doc. He fooled all of us.”

  “You think? This is not something you play games with—and the bill doesn’t come cheap, either.”

  “Make sure you tell that to the man who can buy you and all of your relatives several times over. I wouldn’t blame you if you dropped him as a patient, but I’m telling you that the reason he pulled this is because he didn’t succeed in getting Lyon fired earlier this month. He wanted to find out how willing I was to still come running if he wasn’t well.”