Melissa McClone - Double Trouble - Pregnancy Surprise - Two Little Miracles / Expecting Royal Twins! / Miracle - Twin Babies

‘Jules, I need you,’ he whispered harshly, his mouth tracking over her jaw, his teeth nipping her, not enough to hurt but just enough to drive her further over the edge. And then his tongue stroked over the tiny insult, soothing, tasting, his lips dragging softly over her skin and leaving fire in their wake.

He was driving her crazy, and he knew it, but she couldn’t stop him. There was no way she could stop him, because she needed this every bit as much as he did.

Or so she thought, until the little voice clamouring at the back of her subconscious fought its way up to the surface and she realised that one of the babies was crying. Suddenly Max was shunted off the top of her list, and she felt the passion die away, replaced by the fundamental fact of her motherhood.

‘Max,’ she said, turning her head away, and he groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder.

‘No, Jules. Don’t stop me, for God’s sake, please.’

‘The babies,’ she said, and he went still for a second, then sighed heavily and eased away, slashes of colour on his cheekbones, his eyes dark with arousal as he stared down at her. His chest was heaving, and, after the longest moment, he closed his eyes and turned away.

‘Go and sort them out,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait for you.’

But she knew that would be the stupidest thing she could do.

‘No, Max. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to go to bed.’

‘No!’

‘Yes. I’m sorry. It’s not—We aren’t ready yet.’

He gave a rude snort, and, without waiting for him to say another thing, she fled for the stairs.

‘She’s not ready, Murphy. What do you think of that?’

Murphy thumped his tail and gazed up at Max with adoring eyes, and he sighed and rubbed the dog’s ears gently. ‘Yeah, I quite agree. Rubbish, isn’t it? What am I going to do if she’s never ready, Murphs? This is driving me crazy. The whole damn situation’s driving me crazy.’

He poured the last glass of wine out of the bottle and stared morosely at it. If only there was something to do!

Something more gripping than taking his wife to bed and making love to her until she was so desperate for him that she couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except scream and sob with need.

He swore, short and to the point, and, picking up the TV remote, he turned the set on and channel-hopped. Nothing. Even the news was dull, nothing to hold his interest, and he was on the point of hurling the handset through the window when Jules appeared in the doorway, dressed in her little cat-pyjamas and that fluffy dressing gown, her bare feet sticking out of the bottom and looking vulnerable and appealing.

He wanted to kiss them, take each toe in his mouth and suck it slowly.

‘Is it safe to come in?’

He gave a rough sigh. ‘Yes, it’s safe. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a hell of a long time.’

She nodded and came in, perching on the edge of the chair opposite him and eyeing him warily. ‘I’m not really being fair to you, am I? You’re not used to this, and you must be bored to death.’

‘I am. There’s just nothing for me to do except think about you and wonder what the hell I did that was so wrong.’

‘Nothing. You did nothing. That was the trouble, Max. You just carried on as you always had, and took me with you. And it wasn’t enough.’

‘It was enough for me. I loved working with you—watching your incredible ability to organise and sort stuff. Things just happened when you were around, and it was amazing. I didn’t realise what I’d got until I lost you.’

She sighed softly, and huddled further down in her dressing gown. ‘Max, if this is going to work, you’re going to have to cut back on your time in the office, you know that, don’t you? Your time away, particularly. It’s just not conducive to family life.’

‘My family managed. My father worked the same sort of hours.’

‘And he died of a heart attack at forty-nine! That’s only eleven years away for you, Max. Your daughters will be just starting secondary school. And I’ll be a widow at forty-four. That’s not something to look forward to.’

God. Eleven years? Was that all? No wonder his mother had found another man to share her life. She was only sixty-two now, fit and active and full of life. And her husband had died far too young; he could see that now.

Was that in store for him? Would he go to work one day and find not his PA but the Grim Reaper waiting for him, as his father had?

‘I’m doing it for us,’ he said, but his words had a hollow ring to them, and she shook her head.

‘No. You’re doing it for you, because you can, because you’re driven by the need to succeed, but there are other ways to succeed, Max—other things you can do.’

‘Such as?’

She shrugged. ‘Be a good father to your children? Enjoy your life? Take up a hobby—sport of some kind. Not running. That’s just a solitary thing you do to stop you thinking.’

Hell. Was there anything this woman missed?

‘Fancy a game of chess?’ she asked out of the blue, and he stared at her and then gave a soft chuckle.

‘Yeah, why not? Although I’ll probably beat you.’

‘I doubt it. I’ve been practising. I play with John when he’s here.’

Him again.

‘Does he beat you?’

‘Not often.’

Well, there was a challenge. He leant back and smiled. ‘Bring it on,’ he said softly.

Oh, dear. She recognised that look.

Oh, well, at least it wouldn’t be boring. She got the chess pieces out, opened the coffee-table to reveal a chess board, then took a black and a white pawn, shuffled them behind her back and held her closed fists out.

‘Right,’ he said, and she opened her right hand and sighed at his smug grin.

‘OK, you start,’ she said, and handed him the white pieces.

It was all downhill from there, really, because she was finding it really hard to concentrate.

‘Check.’

She stared at the board in disbelief. What on earth had happened to her? She’d completely lost her focus.

She moved her queen, he tutted and took her bishop, and said, ‘Check.’

Again? She stared at the board for ages, conscious of Max’s hands dangling loosely between his knees, his shoulders hunched over, broad and square and powerful, his head so close she could see the individual hairs, soft and glossy and so enticing.

‘Are you sure you want to do that?’

She looked down at the board, muttered under her breath and changed her mind, then sat back. ‘OK.’

‘Oh, dear.’ He moved his final piece, gave her a wicked smile and murmured, ‘I believe you’ll find that’s checkmate.’

What? ‘Oh, rats,’ she said, slumping back against the chair. ‘I’d forgotten how good you are.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ he said with a smile, and set the pieces up again.

‘Oh, no,’ she said, laughing and holding up her hands. ‘Not tonight. I’m tired and I’m just not focusing. We’ll have another go tomorrow.’

By which time she’d have pulled herself together and repossessed her mind.

‘Right, it really is time for bed,’ she said, and met his eyes. ‘Max, why don’t you have an early night?’

‘What, and lie just feet away from you and think about you? I don’t think so. It’s been over a year, Jules. That’s a long time.’

And then it occurred to her that, in that year, there might have been another woman. Several, in fact. Did she want to know?

Yes.

‘Have you—have there…?’ She trailed off, unable to say the words, but he understood and let his breath out on a huff of disbelief.

‘You really think that of me? Julia, we’re married. I may not have been the best husband, but I meant my vows. I haven’t looked at, or touched, or thought about another woman since I met you. And, since you left me, I’ve thought about very little else. So, forgive me if I don’t want to go upstairs and lie down politely within spitting distance of you and go quietly to sleep!’