Out of the Light, Into the Shadows Page 4

  “I don’t know, Brax.” Could her brother be right? “He sounded pretty dead set on not being a father.”

  Brax turned her to face him. “A lot of people think they never want children until they find out the kids are on the way. Then they realize they’re ecstatic.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case with Wyatt. There was just … something, something dark and absolute in the way he spoke.” She looked up at Brax for understanding. “I’m afraid he’ll never want the baby.”

  “If that’s true, then he’s not good enough for you, anyway. But listen to me, Mercedes Jardine. You are a wonderful judge of character, and I trust you. So I find it hard to believe you’d fall in love with a man who wouldn’t want his own child.”

  Put that way … “I hope you’re right. One thing’s for sure. I’m not giving up on Wyatt yet.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Done exhibiting her self-doubts, something she knew was foreign to Brax, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m going to move in with him, and hopefully change his mind.”

  Doubtful, Brax gave her the look. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The longer you’re with him, the more hurt you’ll be if he doesn’t come around.”

  Hearing him voice her own concerns made his pep talk less encouraging. “I love him, Brax, so I’ll be devastated whether I’m living with him or not. At least if I’m there, I might be able to figure out why he feels the way he does.”

  “I’ll put my money on you.” His smile lacked assurance. “But if things don’t work out? What about the baby?”

  In her mind, that wasn’t even an issue. Feeling a stroke of protectiveness, Mercy folded her hands over her belly. “I love the baby already, Brax. I’m keeping him or her, no matter what.”

  Relief showed in his amber eyes. “Who needs a husband anyway, right? Between us, the little one will get more than enough love.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re going to be a great uncle.”

  “Or more, if it comes to that.” He rubbed his hands together, already planning ahead. “In fact, I’d love to have you living here, you know that. I have more than enough room to set up a nursery, and we could hire a nanny, and—”

  Laughing, Mercy put her fingers over his mouth. “I’ll remind you again: I’m a big girl. I can handle everything. But Brax?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for always being here for me.”

  This smile was as sincere as they came. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  BY that evening, Mercy felt more tired than she should have. She hadn’t yet heard from Wyatt, and that made her maudlin. True, he didn’t call every night, and the lack of a call had never stopped her from going by his place when she knew he was getting off work.

  But now everything was different. Now she’d laid her heart out there, asked him to marry her, and been rebuffed.

  If he wanted to see her, he could damn well call.

  She went to her place, dropped her purse, kicked off her shoes, and fell across her bed to sleep. Perhaps it was the baby, or maybe it was pure emotion, but she felt exhausted. Within minutes she was sound asleep.

  A tickle on the back of her neck woke her. Bleary-eyed, she looked at the clock on her nightstand and saw it was only seven. She’d been asleep for two hours.

  The tickle on her neck turned into a gentle love bite. “ ’Bout time you woke up, sleepyhead.”

  She rolled to her back and found Wyatt stretched out beside her, propped on a forearm. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You were dead to the world.” He smoothed her hair. “Why didn’t you come over to my place tonight?”

  Her stomach felt unsettled and her head hurt. “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  He bent and kissed her gently. “We agreed you’d move in with me. That’s not cause to suddenly not show up—especially when I’m expecting you.”

  “I worried you?”

  “Yeah.” His gaze went from her eyes to her mouth, then to her breasts. Slowly, he started unbuttoning her blouse. “I called, but you didn’t answer.”

  “I left my phone in my purse in the other room.”

  He parted the blouse and put one big hand over her right breast, caressing her through the sheer material of her camisole and bra.

  Mercy caught her breath. Already her breasts were tender, and though Wyatt didn’t seem to notice, she’d gone up nearly a cup size.

  His gaze came back to hers. “Tell me you love me.”

  “I love you.” Her stomach started to churn a little more, and her mouth went dry. “Wyatt, I need to get up.”

  His brows beetled and his hand on her breast stilled. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No, of course not.” Oh God, please don’t let her throw up. The doctor had told her that morning sickness didn’t stick to mornings. So far she hadn’t had much nausea, and now would not be a good time for it to start.

  She turned to her side, away from Wyatt, hoping that would help.

  He spooned her and started kissing her neck again. “I’m free this weekend,” he whispered in between soft, open-mouth kisses to her sensitive skin. “We can get you all moved in—”

  Mercy caught his hand when it moved to her belly. “Wyatt … I’m not … Now’s not a good time.”

  He stalled, then sat up. “You are pissed, aren’t you?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Talking wasn’t easy with her growing queasiness.

  “Bullshit.” He leaned down to her ear. “You have to be mad, because I’ve never known you to turn down sex before.”

  Anger didn’t help the situation any. “Don’t you curse at me, Wyatt Reyes.”

  He caught her chin and turned her face toward him. “Then just admit it. I said I didn’t want to get married, so now you’re getting even with me in the best way known to women.”

  Mercy saw red. She half sat up to confront him. “How dare you accuse me—” Her stomach pitched, revolted, and she knew she had to leave the bed. Now. “Damn you!”

  Scrambling free of his hold, Mercy rushed from the room.

  Wyatt, the jerk, followed her. “Wait a minute! Where are you going?”

  “Go away, Wyatt.” She raced for the hall bathroom—away from him.

  “The hell I will. We have to talk about this.”

  She tried to slam the bathroom door.

  His hand flattened against it and it clattered open again. Too late.

  She was already on her knees, already heaving.

  Wyatt drew up short. “Ah, hell.”

  Mercy clutched the toilet. “Out, or so help me I’ll kill you.”

  “Right. Sorry.” He backed out and shut the door. “I’ll … uh, go make tea.”

  So miserable she wanted to disappear, Mercy hung her head and waited for the awful sickness to pass. Knowing she’d have to face Wyatt and the inevitable questions didn’t make it any easier.

  It was a full ten minutes later before she felt poised enough to venture out of the dubious security of her bathroom. She’d rebuttoned her blouse, combed her hair, and cleaned her mouth.

  Mortification smothered her, but hiding wouldn’t solve anything.

  Wyatt was in the hall waiting for her. He had his back against the wall, his head dropped forward. The second he saw her, he straightened.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yes.” Miraculously, she did. Still a little washed out, but no longer sick. “Sorry about that.”

  Cautious, he held back. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I had no idea you were sick. I acted like an asshole, accusing you of—”

  “It’s okay.”

  Tentatively, he reached for her. “No, it’s not okay.” When he had her in his arms, he cradled her close and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I guess everything is just so new and different now. I’ve never been in love.” He leaned her away and tried a smile. “Will you forgive me for being an idiot?”

  Astounded, Mercy stared a
t him. Wyatt wasn’t a stupid man, but he obviously wasn’t going to put two and two together. “You’re forgiven.”

  The charming smile she loved so much didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If that’s true, then why are you looking at me like I’m a two-headed toad?”

  “Am I?”

  “Yeah.” He put a hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. Do you feel like eating? I made the tea the way you like it, but I can heat up some soup or something, too.”

  How could a man so considerate and caring be so dense? “Actually, I’m starving now. How about we order up a pizza?”

  “You’re sure you’re up to that?”

  At the moment, she felt like she could eat three loaded pizzas all on her own. “Positive.”

  His smile spread, more genuine and filled with relief. “Well, alright then. I’m glad you’re not sick. Maybe it was just something you ate earlier.” He took her hand and they went to her kitchen together. Wyatt pulled out a chair. “Just relax and drink your tea while I put in the order.”

  Now that the nausea was gone, needs beyond food presented themselves. She thought of what Wyatt had been doing earlier, while he used the phone. After he hung up and joined her at the table, she smiled.

  Judging by his expression, her smile confused him. “Food should be here in twenty minutes, they said.”

  “Great.” Mercy turned her head to study him. All of him. “After we eat, I’d be more than willing to pick up where we left off.”

  He stilled, but not for long. “Well hell, woman, I just said we had twenty minutes.” He rose from the chair and scooped her up. “But after we eat, I’m game to go again if you are.”

  WYATT was unaccountably relieved when Mercy didn’t protest his stopping to get cardboard boxes. They’d need them to pack up her stuff, but after what had happened yesterday, he wasn’t sure she still wanted to move in with him.

  She’d said she did. And once he got her in bed, she’d been as enthusiastic and giving as always. But … something felt different about her.

  It worried him.

  Loving her scared him shitless.

  But the thought of losing her was worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

  He didn’t know jack about love, not how to accept it, not how to give it, but for Mercy, he was determined to figure it out. Showing her how much he cared physically was a piece of cake. Hell, he loved that part.

  When they were alone and naked, Mercy turned him inside out and upside down, and it blew his mind. Never before had he realized the immeasurable differences between sex and making love. But now that he knew, he never wanted to give it up.

  She hadn’t mentioned his promise to meet her brother, so he figured he should. Surely a willingness to meet her family would prove … something. If not love, then at least commitment.

  He hoped.

  Glancing over at her, he noticed how her profile had changed. Not her face, but her body.

  She looked more lush than ever. Maybe love did that to a woman. If so, he’d love her so silly, she’d stay as sexy as she was right now.

  “The next couple of weeks, my work schedule is going to be crazy, but I think I can get done early enough for dinner if you want to go ahead and set something up with your brother.”

  She looked startled, as if he’d interrupted some deep thoughts. “I was thinking about that.”

  “You were?” Did it worry her, the idea of him meeting Braxton? If so, why? Did she think he wouldn’t measure up in her brother’s eyes? Would that matter to her, what her brother thought?

  “How about tomorrow night? It’s a Sunday, so you aren’t working, and Braxton, who always works, said he’d make the time whenever I wanted.”

  So soon. “Whatever you want, honey.”

  Her beatific smile gave him pause. “Tomorrow it is. Six o’clock okay with you?”

  Dread filled him. “Sure.” He clutched the steering wheel. “I sort of thought we’d use the weekend to get you moved in.”

  Mercy laughed. Today she had her glossy dark hair in a high ponytail. A bright pink silk halter top and designer jeans made her look like a relaxed model.

  Damn, he was lucky.

  “I don’t need the whole weekend for that.” She glanced back at all the collapsed boxes he’d put in the back of his truck. “I won’t really need all those either.”

  Wyatt didn’t understand. “You have a lot of stuff in your apartment, Mercy.”

  “But I’m not bringing all of it.”

  Whoa. He flexed his hands again, doing his best to fight off the invading alarm. If she didn’t move everything in, then she wasn’t really living with him.

  Was this all just temporary for her? A trial run?

  Hard as he tried, there was still an underlying edge to his tone when he spoke. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “I’m keeping my apartment.” Though she sounded relaxed and happy, she stared out the passenger window instead of looking at him. “My lease isn’t up for almost a year, and I have a ton of furniture. Your place isn’t big enough to hold it all, and I don’t want to sell it.”

  He pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. “So … you’re not really moving in.”

  Her hands folded in her lap. She dropped her head, and he could almost see her thoughts churning.

  When she looked at him, her eyes were filled with resolve. “You don’t want to marry me, Wyatt. That’s fine,” she said before he could speak. “I understand your sentiment on it. But for me, nothing is truly settled without marriage. I love you. I want to live with you. But I’m not going to leave myself without options for a man who doesn’t want to fully commit to me.”

  Son of a bitch. He shoved the truck into park and turned toward her. “I told you I love you.”

  “And I believe you. I see it in your eyes. I feel it in the way you touch me.” She reached over and took his hand. “I am so looking forward to this. We’ll go to bed together at night, we’ll wake up together in the morning. We’ll share everything. And Wyatt, I promise you, I’ll be with you one hundred percent—unless you change your mind. And if you do, I want to know I have a place to go.”

  Urgency clawed at him. “I won’t.”

  Her eyes darkened with sadness—but the resolve remained. “You must not be sure of that yourself, Wyatt, or you’d go ahead and marry me.” She opened her car door. “And if you’re not sure of how you feel, you can’t expect me to be either.”

  She left the truck, and Wyatt sat there, feeling hollow, sick—and wishing he could make it right.

  But marriage … Just thinking about it soured his mood and made him tense. Kids always followed marriage, and with kids, everything changed. He knew that better than most.

  Mercy was right. He wasn’t willing to risk that. He couldn’t.

  He also couldn’t tell her why. Doing so would mean dredging up a past long buried.

  Why couldn’t love be enough for her? It was more than he’d ever offered before; it was all he had to give.

  The truth slammed through his brain like an annoying drumbeat.

  What he had wasn’t enough.

  It never had been, and probably never would be.

  FOUR

  WYATTcouldn’t remember the last time he’d been so uncomfortable. Mercy had told him to wear whatever he wanted, that her brother didn’t dress for dinner, he dressed for himself.

  And that meant … what? Was Braxton Jardine likely to show up in a tux, or jeans? The restaurant Mercy had chosen was nice, but moderately priced, likely a concession to him since she knew he tried not to indulge extravagances like fancy meals at five-star restaurants.

  Mercy never seemed to care about things like that, but what would Braxton think? The man was richer than Midas and had to be used to the best dining around. Would he consider Wyatt a cheapskate? Would he think him unfit for Mercy?

  Damn it, he was not a man with insecurity issues. Through his adult life, he’d made a point of not giving a fuc
k what others thought. He did things his own way, lived by his own moral code, and was the best man he knew how to be.

  If that wasn’t good enough for Braxton, then …

  Mercy’s arms slipped around him from behind. “You look awfully brooding, Wyatt. Please don’t tell me you’re already regretting dinner.”

  Never in a million years would he admit such a thing. “Not at all.” He turned to face her and managed a smile. “Why should I?”

  Too serious by half, Mercy stared up at him. “I know you never really wanted to meet my family. I sort of twisted your arm—”

  Wyatt bent and kissed her. “No, you didn’t. We’re moving in together, and I want you to be happy.” He hoped she believed him, because he meant it. Short of marriage, he’d do what he could to see that it was true. “It’s important to you that I know your family, so it’s important to me, too.”

  Looking too tired for his peace of mind, Mercy nodded, and a small smile appeared. She straightened the collar of his beige-and-blue-striped button-up oxford shirt. “You look very handsome.”

  Frowning, Wyatt rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. “I have a suit I wear when I have important meetings, but I wasn’t sure it’d be right for dinner.”

  “Your khakis are perfect, I promise.” She held out her hands. “How do I look?”

  Her sleeveless, ankle-length sundress hugged her body in all the right places. Black with a beige-and-gold floral design, it brought out the golden hue of her eyes and made her smooth skin look especially creamy. The scoop neck showed just enough cleavage to make him a little nuts.

  Staring at her breasts, which lately seemed to be all but bursting out of her clothes, Wyatt said, “If we had time, I’d show you how incredible you look.” He sought her gaze with his own. “You’re damn near irresistible.”

  Her chest lifted on an inhalation of pleasure. “Thank you.”

  Wyatt cupped her face. “But babe, you do look tired.” Every time he saw the strain on her face, guilt took another bite of him. He measured her expression and saw no hope for it. “Is it stressing you to move in with me?”