Wolf-Bound: Unfamiliar Territory Read online

  “Here we are, sweetie.” Jenny pulled into the parking lot of Tara’s apartment building. “It’s a good thing your apartment’s on the ground floor. Those stairs wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  Tara nodded absently, knowing Jenny was just making busy talk to try and keep her mind off things.

  Jenny eased into a space right in front of Tara’s door. Damien hopped out of the front passenger seat and opened the rear car door. Devlin, seated next to her, scooted out of the van and turned, gripping her arm to help her step down onto the pavement. “Thanks, guys.”

  Dev flashed his easy grin. “No problem, Tara.”

  Despite her protests, he and Damien insisted on practically carrying her to the apartment. Jenny unlocked the front door and led them to the bedroom. Tara balked. “I’ve been in bed for four days.”

  Jenny sighed. “But Tom put you on bed rest.”

  “Yes, but he said I could sit in a recliner, or even in a chair, as long as I keep my feet elevated.”

  Jenny’s men shared a glance. “We’ll go get her stuff out of the car,” Damien said.

  Tara laughed as they nearly tripped over each other in their haste to leave the room. “Do they think we’re going to fight?” Then what Damien had said registered. “What stuff? I didn’t have anything at the hospital but the clothes I was wearing when the ambulance took me in.”

  Jen frowned. “Actually, those were pretty much ruined. The stuff he’s talking about is the care package the nurses made up for you ‑‑ lotion, a baby book, a bunch of prenatal vitamins, some healthy snacks, that sort of thing. Plus, I checked out your cupboard yesterday. It was pretty bare, and your milk had expired, so I purchased a few groceries, too.” She raised a quelling hand as Tara opened her mouth to protest. “Not a lot, just a few things to tide you over. Cereal, soup, some microwave dinners, frozen pizza, fresh fruit. Easy stuff, so you don’t have to be on your feet to cook.”

  Tara felt the hot prickle of impending tears. She turned away, heading back into the living room. Jenny caught up to her, putting an arm around her waist and easing her down into the recliner. Tara tugged on the wooden handle, leaning back into the overstuffed suede as the footrest elevated. She closed her eyes and sighed. “That’s better.”

  She listened for a moment to the comforting sounds of people puttering around her home, cabinets banging somewhat loudly as the brothers helped put up groceries. When she opened her eyes again, Jenny was watching her with a worried expression. Tara raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “I just ‑‑ are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you for a few days?”

  Dev and Damien joined them just in time to hear the question, and Tara sensed their immediate tension. She thought she understood how they felt. They were weyr, and Jenny was their wife and their pack-mate. They’d hate being separated from her. Though they could visit at any time, it was a good two-hour drive from their property on the mountain to this little town. She shook her head. “I need some time alone. To…try and come to terms with what’s happened.”

  Jenny nodded. “I understand. But I’m going to come check on you every day.”

  “That’s too much, Jen! It’s such a drive.” But her best friend’s lips had thinned, her jaw locked in that stubborn, uncompromising position that said she wouldn’t be swayed, so Tara just nodded. “Thank you. That would be nice.” She hated seeming so helpless, but the truth was that she was relieved. She really did want some alone time, but knew that she would need help over the next few months. She was determined not to lose her remaining baby.

  “Do you want me to fix you something to eat before we go? Some soup, maybe?”

  Tara shook her head. “They fed me at the hospital, right before you picked me up.” She rested her head back against the recliner. Thank goodness Jenny had brought loose, comfy clothes for her to wear home from the hospital. “I really just want to sleep.”

  “Of course.” Jenny stepped up to the chair and knelt down beside it. “You must be exhausted.”

  Tara’s eyes were already drifting closed. “Could you get me a blanket before you go? The quilt folded on the end of the bed would be fine.”

  “I’ll get it.” Damien went into the bedroom and brought back the quilt.

  Jenny draped it over her, kissed her forehead, and stood. “I’ll lock the door behind me.” They had decided that Jenny would keep the extra key to the apartment for the duration of Tara’s pregnancy. “You rest. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.”

  Tara nodded, but sleep was already claiming her, and she barely registered the snick of the deadbolt sliding home as she drifted away.

  Unexpected Visit

  Tara opened her eyes reluctantly, surprised to be met with darkness. She groped for the switch to the floor lamp next to the recliner, finally managing to twist it. Blinking in the sudden brightness, she lowered the footrest and pushed herself up from the chair. Stiff muscles protested, but the knocking at her door continued. She shuffled slowly to the door and looked through the peephole.

  Marshall Loman stood outside, holding a handful of wilting roses and frowning with concern as he knocked harder. “Tara? Tara, are you all right?”

  “Just a sec.” She turned the deadbolt and tugged the door open. “Marshall?”

  “Hi.” He smiled, then glanced down at the flowers. “Oh, these are for you. I heard about…well, I just wanted you to know…” His voice trailed off, and he frowned unhappily.

  “Thank you, Marshall.” Tara waved a hand. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it? I don’t want to intrude.”

  Tara sighed, resting her forehead against the door jamb. “Honestly, I wanted to be alone earlier, but now…I’d love some company for dinner. Keep my mind off…things. It’ll just be frozen pizza, but ‑‑”

  “That’d be great.” For a lawyer, he appeared extremely unsure of himself, stepping hesitantly into the living room and waiting awkwardly while she shut the door and locked it. “Can I put these in water for you?”

  “Sure.” Tara led the way into the kitchen and opened the cabinet below the sink, bending over to look for a vase among the clutter. Marshall’s hands on her shoulders gently drew her up and guided her to one of the four chairs flanking her small kitchen table. “You sit. I’ll take care of it.” He rummaged among the junk and pulled out a dusty vase. “I’ll just rinse this out.” He turned on the hot water and gave it a quick wash, then turned to her.

  “Sugar?”

  Tara pointed at the canister by the coffee pot. Marshall lifted the lid, used the scoop to add about a teaspoon of sugar to the bottom of the vase, then filled it to the rim with cool water. He glanced at Tara. “My mom always used to add a little sugar to the water. Said it made the flowers last longer.”

  Tara smiled. “I’ve heard that, too.” Remembering what the doctor had said, she tugged one of the extra chairs over and lifted her legs, resting her heels on the padded seat. Marshall raised a quizzical brow. “Dr. Byers said I should keep my feet elevated.”

  He nodded, drying the outside of the vase with a hand towel she kept folded on the counter. He carried the vase over to the table and set it in the middle.

  “They’re beautiful.” Tara inhaled deeply of the salmon-colored petals. “And they smell wonderful.”

  Marshall shrugged self-consciously. “I heard you say one time that you didn’t like pink or red roses, that you liked the ones with a little orange or yellow to them.”

  Tara raised her eyebrows. “And you remembered?”

  To her surprise, a hot spot of color appeared on each of his cheeks. Confident, drop-dead-gorgeous attorney Marshall Loman was blushing. “W-where’s that pizza? You just stay put, and I’ll do the cooking.”

  Tara stifled a grin. “In the freezer.”

  The man flushed a shade darker. “Of course.” He tugged opened the freezer and grabbed a frozen pizza, keeping his eyes on the package as he stepped over to the oven. After a moment of study, he turned the dial to Preheat and set the temperature. Still avoiding her gaze, he mumbled, “Do you usually put these on a cookie sheet or something?”

  She cocked her head, pointing with her chin. “In that cabinet there’s a pizza stone. I know they say you shouldn’t put frozen items on them, but I’ve been doing it for years and haven’t had a problem.”

  She watched him thoughtfully as he opened the box and removed the cellophane, then placed the pizza on the stone. “What’s up, Marshall?”

  He paused, balling up the trash in his hand. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem uncomfortable.”

  He tossed the wadded cellophane into the plastic garbage can next to her refrigerator, then opened his mouth.

  A harsh buzzing sound startled them both. They stared at each other wide-eyed, and then Tara laughed. “Um, the oven’s ready.”

  Marshall nearly tripped hurrying over to twist the knob to Bake. He grabbed the stone and put it in the oven, set the timer for twenty minutes, then walked over and sank heavily into the other chair. “I’m really suave, huh?” He grinned wryly.

  Tara shrugged. “Maybe not exactly suave, but definitely sweet.”

  Marshall blushed again, resting his clasped hands on the table. “Look, I think you should consider taking that secretarial position I offered. I really do need the help, and I can drop stuff off here for you to work on, so you can work from home and stay off your feet until the baby’s born. That way you’ll still be earning a paycheck, and after the baby’s born I wouldn’t have any problem with you fixing up a place for him in the office and ‑‑”

  Tara covered his hands with one of hers. “Marshall.”

  The rush of words stopped, and he finally met her gaze. “Yeah?”

  “This
is about more than just the job, isn’t it?”

  He started to look away, but she tightened her grip on his hands and leaned forward, keeping him focused on her. “Well…yeah. I-I know this probably isn’t the best time for this, but…I’ve always liked you, Tara, and I’d like to get to know you better, and I wanted to tell you that, but I also want you to know…” He leaned forward himself, turning his hands to clasp hers. “I have no problem with you just being a secretary. Even if you’re not interested in me romantically, I want you to have this job. I know you’ll be great, and I really do need a secretary. I just kept putting off advertising for one ’cause I was trying to get up the nerve to ask you. I wasn’t even going to tell you how much I like you; I was just going to see how things went, but ‑‑”

  Tara giggled and covered his lips with her free hand. “Is this how you are in court?”

  His face turned a shade of red she couldn’t even come up with a name for. He shook his head. She took her hand away. “I’ll be honest with you, Marshall. When you first said you needed a secretary, I thought maybe you just wanted someone you could tumble with. I thought maybe, deep down, you believed all that crap Billy and his friends were spreading about me.”

  Marshall started to speak, but she held up a hand. “I’ve watched you, Marshall Loman. Out on the town with those honey-blonde gals with legs up to here.” She indicated a spot near her neck. “I’ve heard some of that smooth talkin’ you do with them, when you bring them in for Rona’s homemade caramel pecan pie.” She grinned. “And I’ve got to say, I don’t for one second think you’re lying to me, because I haven’t ever seen you this tongue-tied in the twenty years we’ve been friends.” She drew a finger along his forearm. “You really are sweet on me, aren’t you?”

  Marshall swallowed hard and nodded.

  She looked into his eyes. “Even though I’m pregnant with someone else’s childre--” She caught herself, swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Child?”

  “That doesn’t matter to me. Not if…not if you think you might have feelings for me.”

  Tara turned her head. On the windowsill stood a grinning ceramic leprechaun, his hat brimming with a thick growth of Irish clover. She thought about the men who had given it to her. Jacob and Johnathan O’Connail. She’d met them in New Orleans four months earlier, when she’d treated herself to the trip for her thirtieth birthday. She could still picture them. Johnathan, tall and dark, sentimental and sweet. Jacob, a little taller, a little darker in more ways than one ‑‑ cynical, silent, a lake whose still waters ran very deep. Both spoke with a thick Irish brogue, and both were weyrwolves.

  She’d recognized it as soon as she’d seen them, and to her delight, the fantasies she’d had ever since she used to follow and spy on the Blake brothers when she was younger had all been fulfilled. But they were running away from something, though they never said what, and she hadn’t heard from them since her last night in New Orleans, waking her final morning to find them gone, leaving only the plant and a card behind. She had the card that had come with the leprechaun in a little frame right next to him, but she’d memorized the words within days of returning home.

  Happy Birthday, Irish. I’m sorry we can’t be with you today, but there are some things we have to take care of.

  The clovers aren’t for luck. It is said that St. Patrick used the three leaves of the clover to represent the Holy Trinity. I want you to think of each one as you, me, and Jacob ‑‑ as a symbol of our joining.

  I hope you like our gift. Keep them safe until we meet again.

  Johnathan.

  Of course, she’d thought he meant the clovers, but when she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d been convinced that Johnathan had known, somehow, that she had conceived that night, and though it was impossible, that he’d known it was twins.

  But they’d never come for her, never even tried to contact her, as far as she knew. So it was crazy to feel guilty for liking Marshall. She did like him ‑‑ she liked him a lot, would have gone after him years ago if she’d thought he wanted her to be anything but a friend.

  The shrill beep of the timer jerked Tara from her reverie. Marshall jumped up and opened the oven door, reaching for the stone.

  “Hot pad!” Tara yelled.

  Marshall froze, staring at his outreached hand, then groaned. “You must think I’m a total idiot!”

  Tara shook her head. She tugged her feet off the cushioned seat they were resting on, pushed up from the chair, and grabbed a pot holder from its hook on the side of the refrigerator. Smiling, she tugged the padded, strawberry-patterned mitt onto his hand. “Not an idiot, just a really sweet, nervous guy whom I like. A lot.”

  His gaze went wide. “Honest?”

  Tara nodded. “Honest.”

  He stared at her, grinning, until she gently nudged him. “The pizza?”

  “Oh! Yeah.” He was blushing yet again as he pulled their dinner from the oven. A flick of his foot shut the door, and he turned off the timer and the oven.

  Tara grabbed a couple of plates, a knife, and two forks from the dish drainer. She handed Marshall the knife and waited while he cut the pizza into eight slices, then held the plates while he put a couple of slices on each one. They returned to the table. Tara used the edge of her fork to cut the first third of each slice into bite-sized pieces, then sat back to let them cool for a minute.

  Marshall picked up a slice and took a big bite, then sat there, lips open wide, teeth pressed together, air whistling in and out as he breathed double-time. “Hot,” he mumbled sheepishly after he’d finally swallowed.

  “Uh-huh.” Tara grinned.

  “Did you mean what you said? About liking me?”

  “I did, but…” Tara toyed with a bite of pizza, scooting it around her plate with the fork. “Let’s take it slow, okay? I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and…I just don’t want to jump into anything. I don’t want to make a mistake.” She’d almost said another mistake.

  Marshall nodded. “I understand. Whatever you want, that’s fine with me. No rush.” He seemed to realize he was babbling again, and pressed his lips together tight.

  Tara studied his light brown eyes, noting how they sparkled with flecks of gold when the light hit them just right. He had his light brown hair, slightly graying at the temples even though he was only a couple of years older than she, cut very short, and she had an urge to run her hands through it, just to see how the short bristles would feel. Suddenly, it was her turn to feel shy and awkward. “Um, would you like something to drink?” She stood again and opened the refrigerator. “I’ve got milk, orange juice, apple juice, and root beer. Or I could make some tea.”

  He hopped to his feet. “You’re supposed to take it easy, remember? Let me do that.”

  “I’m all right. Really. I can do this one little thing.”

  He looked doubtful, but said, “Okay, then. Root beer sounds great.”

  She fixed their drinks and rejoined him. For the next few minutes, they ate in companionable silence. Marshall went back for seconds, Tara sipping her root beer while she kept him company. When they were done, he found the foil and wrapped up the leftovers and put them in the fridge for her. She invited him into the living room, found a sitcom Marshall said he liked on the television, and sat down beside him on the couch.

  “About that job, when would you want me to start?”

  Marshall turned to face her, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “You can start tomorrow.” He frowned. “If you’re up to it.”

  “I am. At least, I think so. I have a computer. It’s an older one, but I’ve got the usual word processing and spreadsheet programs, that sort of stuff. It will be mostly typing, right?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got a stack of things I can bring over tomorrow morning, but you can work on them at your own pace. Right now, I want to get the handwritten notes I took for my cases in Billings into the computer so they’ll be available for quick reference. When you’re done, I’ll put the originals back in the paper files and send them to storage, so we still have access to them if needed. Getting them transcribed will probably take a while. By the time that’s done, you’ll probably have had the baby, and then I was thinking you could start coming in to the office. You know, taking calls, keeping my calendar, typing, that sort of thing. I thought maybe you could bring a playpen, or one of those portable cribs, while he’s still real little, and keep him right there in the office with you.”