Julianna Morris - Last Chance For Baby

Her conscience was darned inconvenient, but Julia opened her mouth to the unspoken command. “Raoul, we…I…”

We’re having a baby and I planned it all along. “Rest now. I’ll arrange for you to see a doctor tomorrow.”

Irritation swamped less-comfortable emotions, and she pushed herself farther upright against the head-board. “You’ll do no such thing. I don’t need to see a doctor, and I don’t need you to take care of me.”

For some reason Raoul’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps nothing. I told you, I’ve been—”

“Yes,” he interrupted smoothly. “You’ve been taking care of yourself since you were seventeen.”

“That’s right.” Keeping a wary eye on him, Julia snatched the telephone and dialed the taxi company. She asked that a cab be sent to her house as quickly as possible. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes,” she said, returning the receiver to the cradle. It was remarkably fast service considering the weather, but twenty minutes still seemed like twenty years.

Raoul sat next to her on the bed, his leg nudging her hip, as though he had all the time in the world. “You don’t have a family, Julia?”

“Just a father and a brother,” she muttered. “My mother died when I was four. I barely remember her.”

“Your father and brother, you are not close to them?”

“Not in this lifetime.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “My brother is a gung ho Navy Seal—sudden death in every direction. He’s older than me, and we never had much in common. We only see each other every couple of years.”

“And your father?”

“I haven’t seen him since I was seventeen. I’m a disappointment, you see. A weak female who wouldn’t toughen up and do what he wanted. He washed his hands of me when I left for college instead of enlisting in his army.”

Raoul fought a surge of anger at the bleak expression on Julia’s face. His own family’s gentle tyranny about marriage and children seemed minor by comparison. How could her father fail to recognize the unique strength of the daughter he’d raised?

“He is a fool,” Raoul said flatly.

Faint surprise registered in her eyes. “He’d argue the point with you—he’s very well thought of by the Pentagon. Last I heard, he’d become a three-star general.”

“That is merely a title. It doesn’t make him less of a fool. A blind man could see that you are not weak. You have the heart of a tigress.”

Julia blinked several times. She would have expected a man like Raoul to defend her father, at least in part, but instead he was supporting her without reservation. A traitorous warmth crept through her body.

“Thank you,” she murmured. A yawn caught her by surprise and she sighed. “Sorry.”

Raoul regarded her for a long minute. “You are tired, chère. I will wait for the taxi in the other room.”

He leaned closer. His finger stroked the arch of one eyebrow, then traced the curve of her cheek, and a flood of remembered sensations made her tremble. She couldn’t have spoken if her life depended upon the words.

“I thought you couldn’t possibly be as lovely as I remembered, but I was wrong.”

The dark, gravelly quality of his voice hypnotized Julia to the point that she didn’t object when he brushed her mouth with his. The light kiss deepened and she sensed the suppressed sexual energy in him, yet even that wasn’t enough to make her pull away. Their brief time together had made her far too susceptible to his potent brand of loving.

“Sleep well,” he murmured. “Please think about seeing a doctor if you’re not better soon.”

“I…yes.” Julia tried to be glad Raoul was too much of a gentleman to attempt a seduction when he believed she was ill. She might manage to actually feel glad in an hour or so.

A moment later he’d closed the door behind him and she curled onto her side, a tear trickling down her cheek. These days she was a confused muddle of pregnancy hormones. Everything was blown out of proportion, her emotions seesawing wildly.

But things would be better in the morning.

They had to be.

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