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  "What will you do in the meantime?" she asked. She was thinking that if he had time on his hands, he wouldn't mind making another trip north.

  "I'll do research. Maybe fly down to the Yucatan and see what's happening there, or visit friends in Michigan. I don't know. It's frustrating. "

  Since she didn't think she'd have a better opening, she took a breath and forged ahead. "Would you— do you think you'd be vailing to come up here again?"

  "You mean, to try for the baby? Sure. I told you I'd help you. "

  So easy! She felt a weight lift from her heart. "Ahh. I was worried you'd had enough the first time. "

  "I made a commitment. I'll see it through—not that I've had a change of heart about wanting a kid of mine running around, but if there has to be one, I'd rather have it be yours than someone else's. "

  Jenna felt a thickening in her throat. It was a minute before she was able to produce sound, and then it was a soft "Thank you. Thank you, Spencer. You'll never be sorry, I promise you that This baby will be the most special, special child in the world. "

  "That could be good or bad. For the time being, why don't we concentrate on getting it conceived. When should I fly up?"

  "Uh, ten days, I think. "

  "You think?" He clucked his tongue and said in a teasing tone, "You're slipping, Jenna. Usually you know exactly when, why and for how long. "

  She felt instantly sheepish. "I know, but I haven't been thinking beyond getting you to agree to try again. If you want to hold on, I'll get my calendar. "

  "No need to do that now. I'll call you in a few days. "

  "But you'll want to make plans. "

  "Yeah, so I don't have a conflict with all the high action that's taking place here. "

  He was being facetious, of course. She could hear that along with a note of disgust in his voice, and it occurred to her that a diversionary trip back to Rhode Island might be just what he needed to relieve the tedium of waiting for the court's decision on the salvage rights to his galleon.

  "By the way, " he said, "how was Hong Kong?"

  "It was great, really. Our meetings went well, and the tours were interesting. We visited several factories that we're not using now but may be able to use next year. Our lawyers will start negotiating come fall. "

  "Will you have go back there then?"

  "No. I'll make another visit in the spring. "

  "What if you're pregnant by then?"

  "I won't go. "

  "Are you sorry you did this time?"

  She had been half expecting the question. He had been against the trip from the start, had said it would be too tiring, and he had reminded her of that moments earlier. She didn't think she heard an I-told-you-so now, still she said with conviction, "If you're asking whether I feel that the trip had something to do with my not being pregnant, the answer is no. I got my period right on time, and it's been no heavier than usual. It's not a spontaneous abortion, just a period. I wasn't pregnant, that's all. Maybe if we'd done this in the doctor's office—"

  "That wouldn't have worked. "

  "How do you know?"

  "I just know, " he said lightly. "Listen, don't worry about it. It'll happen this time. I'll call you soon to find out the date. Take care, Jenna. "

  The lightness in Spencer's voice hadn't been for show. He was legitimately pleased to be seeing Jenna again. The timing was right; he had nothing better to do. She was easy to be with, and the sex had been great. The only thing that bugged him was when she started talking about signing papers. Hell, he trusted her. He didn't for a minute believe that she would turn around and sue him for child support, and even if she did, it wouldn't be the end of the world. He had plenty of money. He could easily establish a trust fund for the kid. In fact, he'd probably do it, anyway. Then he wouldn't feel guilty leading his own carefree life.

  Great sex. He still couldn't believe it Sure, he found Jenna attractive, but he found lots of women attractive. That didn't mean that when he took them to bed the world tipped and spun. It sure had with Jenna. He didn't know why, since some of those other women were more lush and sexy and skilled than her, but he wasn't analyzing it too deeply. All that mattered was that they were good in bed together.

  Or good on the patio together.

  Or good... where? He wondered where they'd do it next. He liked variety. It added spice. Jenna found it shocking, but that was part of the fun he had with her. She came to sex expecting nothing. Each bit of pleasure she felt stunned her. She was nearly as naive as a virgin, but there was a definite fire inside. His challenge was to draw it out

  That thought was foremost in his mind over the next few days. He wanted Jenna to loosen up with him, but he doubted she'd do that at home. Her life was too well structured, her mind too tied into the idea of getting pregnant He wanted her to forget that which meant, for starters, changing the scenery. Yeah, he liked that idea. When he let his imagination go, he could picture all sorts of super things happening.

  He was thinking of some of those things when he called her later that week. Feeling buoyant, slightly aroused and very masculine, he said, "Hi, angel. How're you doin'?"

  Jenna hesitated. "Spencer?"

  "Who else would be calling you 'angel'?"

  "I didn't think you would. Are you—is everything all right?"

  "Everything's fine. Still holding even, no word from the courts, but I'm doing okay. Did you figure out when you'll be needing me next?" He conjured an image of a stallion being brought to stud, and stood a little straighter.

  "Uh-huh. I'll be ovulating again on August 5. That's a Monday. So I guess the Saturday before would be good, just like before. "

  "That's fine. How about meeting me in Washington?"

  "Washington?"

  "D. C. I have research to do at the Smithsonian. " Research that could actually wait for another time, but would serve the same purpose as the work on his manuscript had. It gave them an out if being together got to be a drag. "You'd have time to shop or museum-hop or do whatever you want. "

  "There isn't much shopping I'd do. "

  "You can check out the competition, then. Can you take Monday and Tuesday off from work?"

  "I can, " she said hesitantly.

  "Then do it. We'll have fun. "

  He heard her sigh. "Spencer, I don't know—"

  "Want me to fly there and pick you up?"

  "Oh, no, " she said quickly, "that won't be necessary. "

  He chuckled. "You do know that you're safer flying with me than with a commercial pilot, don't you?"

  She harrumphed. "That's what every private pilot says. "

  "Well, it's true—assuming the private pilot is worth his salt. The guy who flew your parents that day wasn't. He didn't check out the plane the way he was supposed to, and if he had, he would have found that leak. If he hadn't died himself, the FAA would have brought him up on charges. But not me. I check everything out, and I do it carefully. Believe me. I love myself too much to risk my life. "

  "Then I guess I can be confident you'll make it to Washington safely. As for me, there's a nice DC-9 flying there from Providence three times a day. I'll book two rooms at the Capital Hilton. "

  "No, you won't. I'm not staying in anything big and impersonal. " Nor did he want two rooms. "Let me make the reservations. I'll call you next week to tell you where. "

  "I'm paying. "

  "You're not paying. "

  "Having a baby was my idea. "

  "Going to Washington was my idea. "

  "But the baby is the point of the trip. "

  "No, it's not. Super sex is. "

  "We're not going there for super sex. "

  "I sure am. "

  "Spencer. " She fell silent. He could picture her blushing and felt an unexpected swell of affection for her.

  "Jenna, " he said gently, "don't worry about it, okay? You'll get your baby, and I'll get my super sex, and we'll both be happy as pigs in—"

  "Spencer!"

  "Sorry. But
it's true. Talk with you next week, angel. Ciao. "

  Spencer flew into Washington's National Airport at noon on Saturday, the third of August. After securing his plane in the private hangar, he went to the commercial terminal to wait for Jenna's arrival at one. When the big plane rolled up, he felt a pleasant sense of expectation. He found himself breaking into a grin when Jenna finally came through the door.

  She looked pretty. Her dark hair was in a bun, but he could excuse that because of the heat. The rest of her—in a pair of linen walking shorts the color of apricots, a matching cotton blouse and flats—was so easy on the eye in a chic kind of way that he felt pride when she walked up to him and not someone else. But that wasn't what made him grin. What made him grin was her expression.

  "You look, " he said, taking the carryon from her shoulder, "like you can't decide whether to be relieved to be on the ground or terrified that you're here. Which is it?"

  With a resigned twist of her lips, she said, "A little of both. My better judgment tells me we should be doing this back home. "

  "If we listened to your better judgment—" he put a light hand at her waist and started steering her through the crowd "—we'd have done it in the doctor's office, and just think of what we'd have missed. "

  She kept her eyes on where they were going.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear. "No comment?"

  "No comment"

  Peering down into her face, he saw mat she was blushing. He liked it when she did that Blushing was a soft, feminine thing to do.

  More important, though, she wasn't angry. And a "no comment" meant that she didn't disagree with him, which was an indirect acknowledgment of the pleasure she'd felt which was a step in the right direction. By the time they were done making mis baby of hers, he was determined to have her aware of the true joys of life.

  He would go slow, however. That was half the fun. They had the weekend, plus Monday and part of Tuesday ahead of them. With a little luck, he might even convince her to stay longer, but he'd have to play that part by ear. He'd have to see if he wanted it For all he knew, he'd be sick of her in two days, in which case he'd be the first one out of there on Tuesday morning.

  But Tuesday morning was Tuesday morning. This was Saturday, and he had things planned. Jenna was still nervous about being with him—nowhere near as much as the previous month, but still nervous. So he intended to keep her busy. Well aside from his research, which he would tackle on Monday, there were things he wanted to do around the city. She could do them right along with him.

  First, though, there was the hotel and a preliminary hurdle to be cleared. He had made reservations at Loweth Park, which was small and elegant and just right for a romantic interlude. Jenna must have sensed something of that when they entered the lobby, because she was crowding his elbow when the clerk passed over the reservation slip.

  "Two rooms?" she whispered so that only Spencer could hear.

  Concentrating on the paper before him, he whispered back, "A suite. "

  "Not a suite. Two separate rooms. "

  "The suite has two rooms. " He took his wallet from his pants.

  "Two bedrooms?"

  "Waste of money. "

  "Spencer. "

  "I'll take the couch. " With a smile for the clerk, he flattened a charge card on the paper and passed both across the counter. In full voice, he asked, "This room has a king-size bed?" He managed not to laugh when Jenna made a small sound of dismay beside him.

  "That's right, sir. Just as you requested. "

  Jenna left his side. When he had finished checking in, he found her sitting in one of the large wing chairs, looking regal in a vulnerable way. He cocked a brow in the direction the bellboy was taking their bags. Slowly she rose from the chair and rejoined him.

  "This isn't right, " she said quietly.

  He took her arm and spoke softly as they walked toward the elevator. "Sure, it is. Given what we're here for, it didn't make sense to take separate rooms—or to take a two-bedroom suite. The bed is big enough so we can have our own sides, and I really will take the sofa, if you want. " Not that he expected it would come to that. Her problem was that she thought too much. When she wasn't thinking—like the last time, on her patio, after she'd had such a sweet climax—she was pliant If they had been in a bed then, he would have stayed the night, and she wouldn't have fought him on it.

  So he had to drive her out of her mind with pleasure. That was all.

  Chapter 8

  The room was beautiful. It was colonial in style, lushly done in rich burgundies and greens. The bed was king-size, indeed, and covered in velvet, as were a chair and love seat in the bedroom and more chairs and a sofa in the sitting room.

  Though Jenna didn't comment on the decor, Spencer watched her run a hand along the velvet, linger before the oil paintings, carefully set her makeup case on the marble dressing table. She was used to fine things, he knew; still, she appreciated them. He liked that. He also liked the way wisps of her hair had come free of its knot, and he didn't want her tucking them back in. So, telling her mat they had lots to do, he quickly ushered her from the suite.

  They spent the rest of the afternoon walking. Spencer hadn't planned it that way; he had thought Jenna would tire long before he did, but she kept pace with him, and contentedly so. Neither of them were strangers to the city, so it wasn't a matter of sight-seeing as much as catching the spirit of those around them who were visiting the city for the first time. They held hands as they walked, talked when the mood struck, smiled often. The day was sunny and warm enough to force regular stops for cold drinks, and that was fun, too. They hit all the tourist spots—the monuments and memorials, the Mall, Capitol Hill—and some out-of-the-way places that they both knew. Late in the afternoon, on impulse, they ducked into a theater to catch a movie neither of them had seen. By the time it was over, they were famished, so they stopped for dinner—all the way from appetizer to dessert—then were so stuffed that they had to walk more. It was after eleven when they finally returned to the hotel.

  Spencer was all too aware of what they'd be doing once they reached their suite. He had spent the afternoon trying not to think about it and had succeeded simply because conversation with Jenna had been engrossing and diverting. But the movie had been a sexy one, and Jenna had looked so sweet sitting across from him in the restaurant that he waged a losing battle. Increasingly his mind had fast-forwarded. During those times, his hunger must have shown, because Jenna's cheeks had pinkened and her eyes grown evasive. She held his hand, though, during the walk back to the hotel and didn't let go when they passed through the lobby.

  Once in the elevator, he tightened his grip. "You're not gonna get nervous on me, are you?"

  She didn't pretend not to know what he meant. "Of course I am. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. "

  "I won't let you get away with it, " he warned, and the instant they entered the suite, without switching on a light, he backed her to the door, caged her there with his body and took her face in his hands. "I'm kissing you this time. "

  She shook her head. "Don't. "

  He traced the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "Can you give me a good reason not to?"

  She nodded. "We're not lovers. "

  "We sure as hell are. " His thumb brushed her cheek.

  "Not in the real sense. What we're doing is purely functional. "

  He shook his head and gave her more of his weight. "It ceased to be purely functional way back on your patio. Maybe even before that, but you won't admit it. "

  "I can't"

  He slid the back of his finger along her jaw, which was soft and smooth and delicate. "Why not?"

  "Because it ends with the conception of this baby. "

  It occurred to Spencer just then that it didn't have to, that they could remain lovers longer if they wanted. Then he thought of the complications, the far-reaching complications, but they couldn't possibly be sorted out when he had sex on his mind. So, rather than argue, he cupped her chin i
n his hand and held her still for his kiss.

  She caught her breath at the first touch—that tiny sound of surprised pleasure she often made, which he loved—and flattened a hand on his chest, but she didn't push him away. Giving her time, he drew back, but only for the space of a breath. He had felt the same surprised pleasure she had and wanted more. He touched her lips again, stroking them lightly, gentling her.

  At first, aside from the quickening of her breathing, she was still. She didn't move her mouth, didn't move her body. He imagined she wanted to stop him but couldn't work her way through the pleasure she felt to do it. So he kept the pleasure going—it was easy enough to do, his heat was rising—made his kisses progressively deep and long. He slid both hands into her hair and tipped her face higher. He teased her tongue with his, then withdrew and dragged his mouth over her cheeks to her eyes, which he kissed closed. The brush of her lashes teased him, so whisper light against his skin that he began to shake with a greater need. Her lips were open when he returned to them, and with his hungry reclaiming, he felt her first, tentative response.

  That response, so new and shy and sweet, brought him to near-full arousal. "Ahh, angel, " he moaned against her hair, and lifted her into his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and pulled back the spread, then set her on the sheets.

  She sat right up. "I... the bathroom. "

  "No, " he whispered. Bracing himself on a knee, he caught her mouth and held it in a suctioning grip while he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  "I want, " she managed breathlessly, "my nightgown. "

  Tossing the shirt aside, he buried his face against her neck. "No, angel. I want to feel you. "

  But she slid out from under him, and was halfway across the room before he could reach her. Telling himself that there would be other times when she would be naked for him, he got rid of the rest of his clothes. He was waiting at the door to sweep her up again, nightgown and all, when she left the bathroom.

  "So macho, " she whispered.

  But her arms were around his neck, and if she minded his gesture, she didn't let on. Nor did she object when his mouth covered hers before she hit the sheets, or when he made an immediate place for himself between her legs, or when he filled that part of mat space with his hand and brought her to a heated climax. Her insides were still pulsing when he entered her, and if the white nightgown was any obstacle to pleasure, Spencer would have been hard put to say it, because, in exchange for leaving the garment on, she began moving her hands on his body. She had never participated quite that way before. Her touch was light and shy, with such devastating effect that his own climax came nearly as quickly and every bit as powerfully as hers had.