The Baby Bargain Page 8

  "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe me," Dan said morosely. "Lord knows, I've done enough to ruin her life."

  "Well, you can't change what's already happened. Where is she now?"

  "She's in the bedroom. She finally fell asleep a few hours ago. She's had a nightmare but she didn't really wake up. As far as I know, she's slept okay since then. Is it a bad sign that she's sleeping so heavy? I mean, she's not likely to fall into a coma or something, is she?"

  "It doesn't sound likely," Ben said, shaking his head. "People don't normally lapse into comas at the drop of a hat. From the sounds of it, she's probably just exhausted. I'm no obstetrician but I seem to recall that pregnant women generally need more sleep, even when they haven't been through what she has."

  "Do you think I should have taken her to a hospital?"

  Ben shrugged. "That would have been the safest thing, certainly. Why don't I take a quick look at her?"

  Kelly didn't stir when they entered the room. She slept like the dead, an analogy that didn't make Dan happy. Ben sucked in his breath when he got a good look at her face. His hands were gentle as he checked her pulse and listened to her heartbeat with the stethoscope he pulled out of his bag. He felt her ribs through the sheet. He lifted one eyelid and shone a small flashlight on the pupil. Kelly muttered, pulling her head away. For a moment, it looked as if she might wake but then she stilled, her breathing even.

  Ben stood, staring down at her for a moment before turning

  to gesture Dan out of the room. Dan barely waited until he'd shut the door before pouncing.

  4 'Well, is she okay?"

  "She's not in a coma. She's exhausted and her body is recharging. Her pupils look okay. Her lungs sound good. She may have a cracked rib but that's impossible to say without X rays and it may not be worth the risk to the baby." He shrugged. "Overall, she looks too thin and I'd say she needs a lot of rest and some good, solid food. Probably some prenatal vitamins."

  He scribbled a number on a piece of paper. "Dr. Linden's got a practice in my building and I hear good things about her. Why don't you give her a call first thing in the morning?" He stopped and shook his head. "This is morning. Give her a call when the office opens and tell her I sent you. She'll squeeze Kelly in as soon as possible."

  Dan took the paper, creasing it between his fingers. "But you think she's okay? And the baby?"

  "I think so." Seeing the haggard look in his friend's eyes, Ben put his hand on Dan's shoulder. "Look, she's young and she seems pretty healthy, all things considered. Babies are tougher than movies and television would have you believe. There's no sign of any bleeding. My guess is that she and the baby are going to be fine. I still want you to get her to Dr. Linden as soon as possible."

  "I will. Thanks. I really do appreciate this."

  "That's what friends are for." Ben hesitated at the door, turning to look at Dan, his eyes searching. "You really want this baby, don't you?"

  "Yes," Dan said simply.

  "Why?"

  From anyone else, Dan might have resented the question. But he'd known Ben Masters a long time. He'd stayed with Ben when he got back to Indiana. And Ben had been there for him when he'd found out that the child Brittany and Michael were raising was his.

  "It's a second chance," he said slowly. "A piece of what I've always dreamed of."

  "That girl in there isn't Brittany and this child isn't the one you might have had with her," Ben said bluntly.

  Dan's fingers crumpled the phone number Ben had given him. "I know that."

  "So long as you do," Ben said, unintimidated by the flare of anger that lit Dan's eyes.

  Dan leaned against the door after Ben had gone. Ben obviously thought he was more than a few cards short of a full deck. Maybe he was right. Maybe he had no business asking Kelly to carry this child, to give it to him. After all, he might make a lousy father. The only thing he could be sure of was that he could never hurt his son or daughter the way Kelly's father—if it had been her father—had hurt her.

  Dan pushed himself away from the door, rubbing one hand over his face. It was nearly dawn. He'd had only a few hours of sleep. He was in no condition to try and make any life-altering decisions. A hot shower, two or three gallons of coffee and then maybe his brain would be functioning again.

  Kelly woke slowly, working her way up through layer after layer of cotton wool. She felt warm. That was the first thing she was aware of. For the first time in weeks she felt warm all the way through. She stirred, snuggling deeper under the layer of blankets, letting the warmth soak into her bones.

  The bed felt good, not like the sagging mattress she had at home. The pillow was fluffy and didn't smell of incipient mildew, and the blankets were soft and smelled of sunshine, not like the scratchy woolen blankets she usually slept under.

  She wasn't in her own bed. The thought seeped in slowly, bringing with it the first tinge of uneasiness. She pushed it away. She didn't want to think, didn't want to wake up. She just wanted to sleep until she felt rested all the way to her toes.

  But Morpheus, once having retreated, proved impossible to coax back. There were too many questions starting to force their way into her mind. And hard on their heels were answers she didn't want to face.

  Kelly opened her eyes slowly, studying the pale ceiling above. She knew where she was. She was in Dan Remington's

  bedroom. The same room where her life had been irrevocably changed. Sunlight poured in through the light curtains, a cold, crisp light that promised spring but held the bite of winter.

  In her memory, the room had been bigger and darker. It had looked more ominous, less like the normal, rather plain bedroom it was. Dan must have brought her here after she'd called him yesterday.

  Yesterday.

  She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the memories that came flooding in. She'd been so sick yesterday morning. She hadn't been able to force the illness back until after her father was gone. He was between jobs again. Sometimes she thought he spent more time between jobs than he did working.

  She had come out of the bathroom, pale and dizzy, and he'd been waiting for her, looming over her in the tiny hallway. He'd guessed the reason for her illness. She'd known it as soon as she saw his eyes, the terrible, terrible rage in them. She might have run then but there was nowhere to go.

  He had seemed possessed. He'd called her sinful and evil, a true child of Satan, just like her whoring mother. And then he'd begun to hit her. She shuddered, her throat aching with remembered terror. She hadn't been able to get away from him, hadn't been able to do anything but crouch in a corner, making herself as small as possible, and pray for unconsciousness.

  She wasn't sure if she'd actually passed out or if she'd simply retreated so far into herself that she didn't really notice when he actually left. When she finally became aware of herself, she'd dragged her aching body to the kitchen sink and bathed her bruised face in cold water until the chill made her shiver.

  She had to get away. If she was still there when her father returned, he'd surely kill her. She'd dressed clumsily and stumbled out of the trailer. Her only thought had been to call Dan. She had no one else to turn to. There was no one else she could call.

  Kelly drew herself farther up on the pillows, moving cautiously, waiting for the nausea, typical of the past few days, to strike. When her stomach only twinged in warning, she dared

  to draw a deeper breath. Though the bedroom was a comfortable temperature, the air felt cool on her blanket-warmed shoulders.

  Her dress lay tossed across the arm of a chair, along with her coat. Dan must have undressed her. The thought made her flush, as much for the condition of her worn underwear as for the thought of him seeing her nearly naked. Then again, he'd seen her more than nearly naked on New Year's Eve.

  Her frown turned into a wince as the movement pulled at her bruised face. She reached one hand up to explore the damage. Some of the swelling had gone down. Her left eye was partially open but she could guess at the brui
se that must surround it. In fact, she suspected that she looked like hell, which pretty much described how she felt.

  She was just trying to get up the courage to get out of bed to find a mirror and a bathroom when she heard a sound in the hallway. Clutching the covers over her shoulders, she shrank back against the pillows as the door was slowly pushed open. Dan eased into the room, his tense expression relaxing when he saw her.

  "You're awake," he said, his relief obvious. "I was getting worried. How do you feel?"

  "Fine," she choked out the lie past the nervous lump in her throat. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to react in this situation.

  She and Dan had been intimate with one another, yet they didn't know each other at all. They weren't strangers and they certainly weren't friends. Nevertheless, she'd called on him when she needed help and he'd been there for her.

  "You slept a long time."

  "Did I?" She glanced around for a clock, startled when she saw that it was well past noon.

  "Sleep was probably the best thing," Dan said, coming farther into the room.

  He stopped at the foot of the bed. Kelly's fingers tightened over the blankets. Why was it that she never remembered how blue his eyes were? And why was it that blue eyes always

  seemed so much more penetrating than any other color? She felt as if he could see inside her with just a glance.

  "You look better," he said softly.

  She reached up to half cover her face, aware that she must look even worse than she felt.

  "If I look better now, I must have looked like death warmed over before," she said, surprising them both with the dark humor of the comment.

  Dan smiled but his eyes remained watchful. "How are you really feeling? Any pains or cramping?"

  He was worried about the baby. Kelly felt a sharp little pain near her heart. How stupid of her not to have realized it before. He hadn't come to her rescue. He'd come to the baby's rescue.

  "The baby's fine," she said dully, her eyes dropping to where the blankets were tented over her knees. She was aware of him moving around the bed until he stood next to her.

  "I was worried about you," he said quietly.

  She lifted her shoulders without looking up. It would be nice if she could believe him but, after all, he had no real reason to care about her personally.

  She started as the bed dipped beneath his weight She lifted her head, her heart beating too quickly. He was too close, too big. His shoulders seemed to loom before her, cutting off the light, cutting off the air.

  Catching the flare of fear in her eyes, Dan reached out one hand in an automatic gesture of reassurance. But Kelly ducked back as if from a blow.

  "It's all right, I'm not going to touch you," he said tightly. He pulled his hand back, white lines bracketing his mouth. It didn't matter that he knew it wasn't really him she was so terrified of. Every time she cringed from him, it stabbed right through to his gut.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, her knuckles white with the force of her grip on the blankets.

  "Don't apologize."

  Silence stretched between them. Dan stared at the night table, telling himself over and over again that she'd been through

  a lot. Her reaction to him wasn't personal. He was aware of Kelly stealing glances at him.

  "Did I do that?" she asked finally.

  "What?" Seeing the direction of her gaze, Dan lifted a hand to touch the scratches on his cheek. "These? Don't worry about it"

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't worry about it," he said again.

  "It wasn't you," she said after a moment, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.

  "I'd never hurt you. I know our—" he stopped, searching for the right word "—our relationship hasn't exactly been one to build trust. You hardly know me. But I'd never hit you. I can promise you that."

  "I believe you."

  She might believe him, but he knew it was going to take more than that to make her trust him—and he wanted her trust. It surprised him to realize just how much he wanted it.

  "Who did this to you?" Kelly jumped at the question, her face paling beneath the bruises.

  "It's not important," she muttered.

  "It is important. No one has a right to do this to someone else." Dan saw her wince at the edge of anger clearly audible in his voice. He stopped, drawing in a slow breath before continuing in a neutral tone. "Was it your father?"

  "I don't want to talk about it."

  "I have to at least know who did this, Kelly."

  "Why?"

  "Why?" The question threw him off balance. How could he explain why? It seemed so obvious that he had to know something so important. "Because I need to know."

  "I don't see why," she insisted, her jaw set in a stubborn line.

  "Kelly, he's done this before. I saw the old bruises. You can't let him get away with this. No matter who he is."

  "I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it."

  Dan stared at her, frustrated in the face of her stubborn re-

  fusal. He'd spent most of the morning relishing the idea of bringing the man to justice. Visions of putting him behind bars had accompanied numerous cups of coffee. He'd thought Kelly must surely feel the same. Now here she was refusing to even tell him who it had been.

  "Was it your father?" he asked finally. She said nothing, staring at the blankets, her jaw set Dan reined in his exasperation, reminding himself that she'd probably had enough of people bullying her. The important thing was that she was safe and relatively unhurt The fact that he wanted to get his hands on the man who'd beaten her was not really all that important

  "Okay." The bed shifted as he stood, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I won't ask any more questions. If and when you feel like talking about it, we'll talk."

  She cast him a wary look from under her lashes, as if wondering if he was really going to drop the subject He met her gaze openly, doing his best to look reasonable and nonthrea-tening. It wasn't a look he'd ever really tried for before, but he must have managed at least a reasonable facsimile because some of the wariness faded from her eyes.

  "Thank you."

  "You're welcome," he said, very solemnly.

  It was worth controlling his desire for vengeance to see something approaching a smile flicker across Kelly's face. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her smile much. Even on the night they'd met, she hadn't smiled a whole lot Or was it just that he'd been so wrapped in his own problems that he hadn't noticed?

  "I guess you'd like a chance to clean up," he suggested.

  "That would be nice," she said, that shy near-smile flickering over her face again.

  "The bathroom is next door." He hesitated, frowning. "Can you manage? I could help you."

  "No. Thanks," she added, trying to soften the abrupt refusal. "I'm fine, really. Or close enough," she amended when he gave her a doubtful look.

  "Well, if you need me I'll be within yelling distance," he said, as much to reassure himself as her, she thought He went

  to the closet and pulled out a gray flannel shirt and a pair of jeans.

  "These are going to be a lousy fit, but if you knot a belt around the jeans they should stay up." He spoke over his shoulder as he was digging through a drawer. "We'll have to do some shopping when you're feeling better. Get you some clothes."

  "I don't need anything." Pride made her speak before she had a chance to think.

  Dan turned from the dresser, a pair of thick white socks and a terry-cloth robe in his hand. He glanced at the chair where her clothes lay and then looked at her, raising one brow in silent comment.

  Kelly followed his look. Her dress and coat lay tossed over a chair, somehow looking even more tattered and worn in the bright sunshine that spilled across them. Devlin's old boots lay on their sides beneath the chair, the only warm shoes she'd been able to find. Her flush was slow and painful.

  "Don't make an issue out of it," Dan said quietly. "The deal was that I'd
take care of you, support you, right? Well, clothes are part of that." He didn't seem to expect an answer, which was just as well. Kelly didn't think she could have said anything to save her soul.

  Dan tossed the clothes on the foot of the bed. "You can use the belt out of the robe to tie up the jeans. Take your time and call if you need me. I'm going to heat up some soup."

  Kelly watched him leave, waiting a moment to make sure he was really gone before she pushed back the covers and stood. She inhaled sharply as her bruised body protested the movement. Moving cautiously, she discovered that everything worked, if under protest.

  With the robe wrapped around her and dragging on the floor behind her, she crept out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. Half an hour later, a warm shower and some ruthless work with the comb Dan had left out for her, she felt almost human.

  After a few horrified moments staring at her reflection, she avoided the mirror. The bruises would fade, she told herself

  firmly. Besides, what difference did it make what she looked like? There was no one to care. Dan might be concerned but that was only because he wanted the child she carried.

  The deal was... A deal. That's what they had. Her baby in exchange for escape for them both. She closed her eyes, setting her hand over her stomach. She'd tried so hard to divorce herself from the life she carried. But yesterday, when her father had come at her with such mad rage in his eyes, her first thought had been to protect the baby.

  Kelly drew in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she opened her eyes. She'd struck a deal with Dan. A deal that was going to provide a future for her child and for herself. This was the best thing for both of them. It might not be easy, but most things in life that were truly worthwhile weren't easy.

  This was the right thing to do. She had to believe that with all her heart. She didn't dare believe anything else.

  Her nose led her to the kitchen, though it wouldn't have been difficult to find even without the warm scent of soup drifting out. Dan's apartment was not large. One bedroom, one bath, a fairly large living room and a kitchen with an alcove that functioned as a dining room.