Danielle Steel - Heartbeat

And Steven played tennis again later that afternoon. He was still playing when Adrian left for work, and she had promised to come back and pick him up at exactly seven. And when she did, he was waiting for her, handsome in a new blazer and white slacks, and a red tie she had bought him. He looked great and she told him so, and he told her she looked pretty too. She was wearing an emerald-green silk suit with matching shoes and she had just washed her hair and it shone like polished onyx. But she noticed as she slipped into the Porsche with him that he was nervous and distracted. But with an account the size of IMFAC on the line, it was easy to understand it.

She chatted easily with him about unimportant things on the drive to Beverly Hills and she was impressed when she saw the house. Mike James was Steven's boss, and his wife was one of the most expensive decorators in Beverly Hills. It was their housewarming, and she had been hearing for months about the endless multimillion-dollar renovations. But the results were impressive anyway, and there were easily two hundred people there when they walked in, and Adrian almost instantly lost Steven, and found herself wandering between one of the many bars and buffets, listening to snatches of conversation.

People talked about their kids, their marriages, their jobs, their trips, their houses.

Several people stopped and talked to Adrian, but she didn't know anyone there and so was in a quiet mood and didn't linger long in any group. And more than once she noticed, as she often did lately, that when people realized that she was married, they asked her if she had children. It made her feel strange sometimes, saying that she didn't. It was as though not having children was a kind of failure. No matter that she had an important job, and that she was only thirty-one. Women who had children looked proud of themselves, and lately Adrian had been wondering if she had missed something when she and Steven had decided never to have children. Nothing was written in stone, of course, and it wasn't as though their decision couldn't be changed, but she knew how strongly Steven felt about it, which was why she was beginning to feel a little flurry of panic each time she remembered that she was late. And day by day, she seemed to be getting later.

She had thought about buying an at-home test that afternoon, but it seemed a little premature, and there was no need to overreact just because she was a few days late …but what if she was pregnant? She stood alone, staring at the view, and a man stopped to chat with her and offered her a glass of champagne, but she really wasn't interested in talking to him. And after he left, she suddenly found herself thinking. What would happen if she really was going to have a baby? What would she say? What would Steven do? Would it really be so terrible? Or would it be wonderful? Could he be wrong about his vehement stance against children? Would he warm to the idea eventually? …and would she? Would it interfere with her work? Permanently end her career, or could she just go on doing what she did, after a maternity leave? Other women did. It didn't seem like the end of the world to other people. They seemed to have babies and work, it wasn't so disastrous, or was it? She wasn't sure. And as she thought about it, Steven suddenly appeared beside her.

“Done.” He grinned.

“The deal?” She looked stunned. She had been so lost in her own thoughts, he had startled her when he suddenly turned up standing next to her, and she was almost afraid he could hear her thoughts or guess what she was thinking.

“No, I didn't make the deal yet. But Mike wants me to fly out to Chicago with him on Monday. We're going to have some very quiet meetings with them, discuss our philosophies, and theirs. And if everything goes all right, which it will, the following week I'll fly back out on my own and make the presentation.”

“Wow! Steven, that's fabulous!” And he looked as though he thought so too when she kissed him. He allowed himself to have two drinks and he was still beaming from ear to ear when he walked her out to the car when she left for work, and he told her he'd have someone drop him off at home. He told her not to bother to come back to the party after work because he didn't think he'd stay long. And as she drove off, he waved, and went back to see his host again. For Steven, it had been a fabulous evening.

It had been less so for Adrian, and suddenly all she could think of, even in the midst of Steven's incredible opportunity, was whether or not she was pregnant. The idea tormented her all through the evening news, and she was still preoccupied on her way home, and then suddenly, with a quick swerve, she pulled into the curb and decided to stop at an all-night drugstore. Steven didn't have to know anything. She didn't have to say anything to him. But suddenly she wanted to know …and if not tonight …then sometime soon. If she bought the test now, she could do it anytime she felt brave enough. She could even do it while Steven was in Chicago.

She bought the kit and had the druggist put it in a brown paper bag that she shoved deep into her tote bag, and then she got back in the Porsche again, and drove back to their apartment.

Steven was home when she arrived, in bed, half asleep, but with a look of supreme bliss on his face. He was sure that he was on his way to Chicago to make the deal of a lifetime.

AND IN HIS CONDOMINIUM, STARING OUT THE WINDOW into the darkness on Saturday night, William Thigpen looked anything but blissful. He had written for a while, bought Chinese takeout for himself, he had called his kids in New York, watched TV, and he was actually feeling rather lonely. It was one o'clock in the morning by then, and he decided to take a chance and call Sylvia in her room in Las Vegas. She might be back by then, and at worst, he could always leave a message. The phone rang half a dozen times, and when no one answered it, Bill waited for the message operator to come back on, and when he did, it was a man with a gravelly voice and he sounded half asleep and all he said was “Yeah?” as Bill waited.

“I want to leave a message for the party in 402,” Bill said crisply.

“This is 402,” the voice growled, “whaddya want?”

“I must have the wrong room, I'm sorry …” and then suddenly he wondered.

“… you expecting a call from somewhere?” The gravelly voice asked someone in the distance, and there were hushed exchanges with a hand over the phone, and then suddenly Sylvia was on the phone, sounding very nervous. She would have been smarter not to take the call, but she hadn't figured that out, and she knew it was probably Bill calling from L.A.

“Hi …there's been a terrible mixup,” she started to explain as Bill almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “They forgot to reserve half the rooms, and four of us are sharing.” It was beautiful. It was a story worthy of his soap opera, and he was at the center of it, feeling as though he were watching someone else's life instead of his own.

“This is ridiculous …Sylvia, what the hell is going on?” He sounded like the irate lover, but the odd thing was that he didn't feel it. He felt stupid and as though he'd been had, but the truth was he wasn't even angry. All he felt was dumb and disappointed. They'd had something pleasant for a while, but it was more than obvious now that it was over.

“I …I'm really sorry, Bill … I can't explain it just now. But everything's gotten mixed up here …I …” She was crying and he felt like a complete fool just listening to her. He had caught her in the act and he was the one who wanted to apologize for being stupid.

“Why don't we talk about it when you get back?”