“You didn’t like the blue silk?”
“Too snug.”
Two more dresses in and I struggle to tame her chatter. Four more dresses in, I finally find a dress that will work. I stand in front of her fancy portable mirror and inspect my choice. The waist is cinched and the skirt long and full. The material a red silk with a beautiful floral etched design. “I’ll go with this one.”
“It’s lovely on you but I have many more choices.”
“This one,” I insist. “When I decide, I decide. Thank you. It’s perfect.”
My hope is that this becomes a fast prelude to her departure and Rick’s exit from the closet, but she goes on and on about dressing the future first lady. When finally I’ve assured her that I’ve got perfect shoes and jewelry, and need to rest, we make it to the door.
About the time I get her out of the door, there’s a man walking up the steps, with a leather bag on his shoulder, whom I assume to be the doctor. He’s tall, a fit mid-sixties, his salt and pepper hair thick, his blue suit simple and understated.
“Candace?” he asks, his light blue eyes cold, despite his warm tone. “I’m Dr. Moore.”
“I’m Candace.” I step back. “Come in.”
He enters the foyer and turns to face me. “How are you feeling?”
I shut the door behind him and realize how awkward asking him to join me in a bedroom will be now that Dawn has left. “Better after some chicken soup. I’m finally able to hold food down.”
“Well good.” He motions the living area to the left. “Why don’t we just sit down and let me have a quick look? We have to keep our future first lady safe and well.”
If one more person says that “future first lady” remark to me again I might really be sick. Determined to get him out of here and hoping Rick follows us in this direction, I motion toward the living room. “Let’s just go right in here.”
“That works,” he says.
I lead him forward and sit down on the couch, aware that the kitchen’s open archway is to my right and within earshot. Rick could also come up beside us down a hallway toward the foyer. Dr. Moore sits down next to me and starts the typical doctor drill. “When did you first start feeling sick?”
“A few days ago. I’m fairly certain it was from some chicken I ate. Food poisoning.”
There’s a shift in the air, a jolt of energy that tells me Rick is nearby. I don’t know how, but the doc doesn’t seem to notice, staying on topic. “Very possible. Let’s get your vitals and make that future husband of yours feel better.”
I manage a weak smile and endure having my vitals taken while chatting about my medical history he doesn’t even document. “Any chance you could be pregnant?” he asks.
Unease slides down my spine when the question is really fairly standard. However, most women don’t have a man trying to get them pregnant and kill them off. “No chance,” I say.
“First and last day of your last period?”
I spit out my dates and thankfully we move on. Finally, he says, “All looks good and I know you say you’re feeling better, but a good prescription-level vitamin boost can do you wonders. We can get that in you today to help you be ready for tomorrow night.”
I’m not sure if it’s my adrenaline or Rick’s that spikes or a combination of both, but I’m suddenly on edge, literally on the edge of the cushion. The doctor reaches in his bag and pulls out a syringe. I’m immediately on my feet. “No,” I say. “No, I’ll pass.” I round the coffee table.
“It’s perfectly safe.” The doctor stands up. “This is—”
“No,” I repeat, and I swear I can feel Rick contemplating stepping in which would ruin tomorrow night, which means ending our chance to extract my father and get Tag out of the picture. “No, I’m fine.”
The doctor gives a strained laugh. “It’s vitamins, minerals, amino acids, and antioxidants. I don’t understand this reaction.”
And either will Gabriel. My mind races with an answer and I go to the only place I can—a place that won’t please Rick. “Look, doctor. I’m a few days late on my period when I’m never late. I made an appointment with my gyno for Monday.”
He blanches. “You said there wasn’t a chance of pregnancy.”
“I know what I said but that’s because Gabriel wants kids. Badly. If I tease him with this and it’s not true, he’ll be disappointed. But If I am, yes, he’ll be happy, but it also complicates his campaign.”
“Because you’re not married yet,” he assumes.
“Right.”
“Have you taken a test?”
“Not yet, but I will at the doctor on Monday. Just please don’t bring this up to him just yet. I don’t want him to fret at the party tomorrow night. It’s a big deal.”
“Yes, of course.” He returns the injection to his bag and settles the bag on his shoulder, removing a card from inside and offering it to me over the table. “I’m going to be your staff physician when Gabriel takes office. Let’s go ahead and get that moving for you as well. Call me after you talk to your doctor.”
I accept the card. “Of course.”
Thankfully he moves toward the door and I follow, offering a formal goodbye, before locking the door. Hurrying back into the living room, I find Rick standing on this side of the couch. “Why go there, Candace?”
“I couldn’t let him give me that shot and I knew you couldn’t either.”
“Pregnancy gives him a reason to come after you. So does that ring on your finger.”
“I didn’t want the ring on my finger. I had to wear it and you know it.” I pull it off and drop it to the ground. “And I did what I had to do. Killing the doctor killed our Saturday night operation. And I know you were thinking about it.”
He closes the few spaces between us, his long legs making short work of him stepping in front of me. He doesn’t touch me which tells me he’s pissed. “I would have given him his own shot. If it killed him, then fuck him.”
“And then he’d be dead, and we’d be screwed.”
“Pregnancy gives him a reason to follow you when we leave.”
“We both know he’s going to come after me and you. Isn’t that why you got Kane Mendez involved?”
“Yes. That’s exactly why.” And then suddenly he’s giving me exactly what I want. He’s touching me. His hands slide under my hair, and he drags my mouth to his. “Do you know how much I hate thinking about you with that man?”
“I’m not with him.”
“Do you know how much hearing you talk about being pregnant with his baby kills me?”
“I told you—”
“You will never fuck him again.”
The raw command has my nipples puckering and my sex clenching. “No. No, I will not.”
“Just me. Say it.”
“Just you, Rick Savage.”
And then his mouth is slamming down on mine, one hand molding me close, and I know this part of Rick Savage. I know where this is leading. I know the part of him that’s unleashed right now. This is the dark, gritty, damaged part of him, that I know better than anyone. I believe that. The part of him that can’t be leashed and I won’t even try.