Marriage by Contract. Sandra Steffen

how much she’d missed it.

      The kiss finally broke on a need for oxygen, if nothing else. Beth took a shuddering breath and tried to get her thoughts under control. No wonder the rumors circulating through the hospital about Tony’s sexual prowess had always run rampant. According to one of the nurses who worked with him, ninety-nine percent of his patients fell a little in love with him in the delivery room. Dr. Petrocelli obviously had a very good bedside manner. Now she was beginning to believe the stories about his in-bed manner, as well. Thankful that he couldn’t read her mind, she turned her back on him and tried to keep a blush from climbing to her cheeks.

      “We’ll tell our families tomorrow.”

      Her head came up and around with a start. “What?”

      “Our families. They’re going to have to be told.”

      “You mean you’ll marry me?”

      Tony had a feeling he would always refer to this as the day he lost his senses, but, with desire still thick inside him, it didn’t feel that way right now. Fighting an uncharacteristic urge to toss his head back and laugh, he decided to forget about potential problems and concentrate on this instinctive need he had to make Bethany Kent his.

      Looking at her with smug delight, he said, “I can hardly believe it, but yes, that is what I mean.”

      “When?” she asked.

      “As soon as possible.”

      The huskiness in his voice threw her for a moment. Recovering, she said, “Yes, I think it would be best if we were married before Christopher is released from the hospital.”

      “For that reason, too.”

      His dark eyes held a sheen of purpose she simply couldn’t ignore. Wishing she knew where to put her hands, she said, “All right, then. I guess that’s that.”

      Tony made a sound only men could manage. “You won’t know the meaning of the term that’s that until after you’ve met my family tomorrow.”

      Beth hadn’t considered meeting his family. Actually, other than Christopher, there were a lot of things she hadn’t considered. “Are they going to be terribly upset?” she asked.

      The shake of his head was too slow and too sure to be anything but genuine. “Are you kidding? They’ve been trying to marry me off for years. Believe me, they’re going to be thrilled with you and with Christopher. What about your family? How will they take the news?”

      Beth considered her family’s reactions one by one. Her mother’s eyes would widen, and her father would get a little stuffy, and her sister and brother-in-law would share a long, meaningful look, but none of them would actually say anything outright. They had far too much social breeding for any real show of emotion.

      “Actually,” she said, “I think I’ll wait until after the fact to tell my family.”

      Tony shook his head. “My grandmother would never forgive me if I didn’t let all of them in on the news. I’ll call them first and give them a little time to get used to the idea of not only a wedding but another grandchild, too. They’re going to want to meet you, of course. And they’ll insist upon feeding you. They always close the grocery store at five-thirty on Saturdays. I’ll pick you up at six.”

      Beth felt as if she were caught up in a whirlwind. Placing a hand to her temple to try to still the dizziness, she said, “It seems as if we should shake on it or something.”

      One second later his mouth was on hers all over again. She didn’t gasp, but she very nearly swooned.

      Raising his head, he said, “There, that was better than any handshake. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Beth.”

      The next thing she knew, he strode through the beads in the doorway on his way to the front door. Pulling her gaze from his retreating form wasn’t easy. Tony Petrocelli had a smooth gait and a strong masculine physique that was impossible to ignore. She half expected him to glance over his shoulder as if he knew it. The fact that he didn’t made her heart feel strangely tender.

      Just who was Tony Petrocelli? He was no whipping boy, and he certainly wasn’t a shrinking violet. People at the hospital said he was a complex man, one who wasn’t easy to know intimately. Beth was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to him than rumors and tall tales.

      She stood in the doorway, staring through the colorful beads for a long time after he left, feeling as if she were viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. Oh, what a difference a day could make. In the span of twelve hours she’d experienced nearly every emotion there was. Sadness, despair, embarrassment, desire and relief. Her head was spinning as a result.

      Jenna would have said, “All’s well that ends well.”

      Bethany supposed it was true enough. After all, according to Mrs. Donahue, she would be able to begin adoption proceedings as soon as she was married. She already loved Christopher as her own. Now she would be able to raise him as her own, as well. She smiled at the thought, her arms aching to hold the child that would soon be hers.

      Soon. That was when Tony said he wanted to get married.

      Good heavens, she was getting married, when she’d promised herself she’d never get married again. Touching the tips of her fingers to her lips, she only hoped she knew what she was doing.

      * * *

      Beth slid from the seat and rounded the front of Tony’s Lexus. Her feet stopped at the foot of the porch steps, her eyes trained on the welcome sign fastened above the front door.

      “Ready?” Tony asked, reaching for her hand.

      No. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t ready. Oh, the house looked inviting enough. It was located in what her mother referred to as the working-class district. These houses were old but well kept. They were far less ornate than the huge Victorian mansions that had been built by businessmen and prospectors who’d struck it rich in the silver mines a hundred years ago, and far less pretentious than the new structures built by present-day businessmen and the social elite. The houses in this neighborhood had painted porches and bare spots in the lawns where children played and dogs snoozed in the shade. The exterior didn’t concern Beth in the least. It was the people waiting for her inside that had her nerves standing on edge.

      During the ride from her apartment, Tony had hit most of the high spots concerning his family. She now knew that his Grandpa Mario had died ten years ago, and that the Petrocellis were the kind of people who still referred to wall-to-wall carpeting as a rug, and who ate dinner at noon, and supper as soon as they closed the Italian grocery store that had been in the family for more than forty years. Other than a love for gossip, they sounded like kind, good-hearted men and women. So why were her feet frozen to the sidewalk?

      “Come on,” Tony said softly. “You’re going to be fine.”

      She took a deep breath and went up to the first step. Mentally preparing herself for what was to come, she stared straight ahead. “All right. Let’s go in. I only hope I don’t drop my spaghetti in my lap.”

      Tony was still laughing when he opened the front door and ushered her inside. Every person in the room turned to look at them, more than a dozen pairs of brown eyes narrowing with a critical squint. Accepting the squeeze Tony gave her hand for moral support, Beth did her best to hold her head high and refrain from fidgeting. But honestly, a germ under a microscope had never received a more intense scrutiny.

      “Everyone,” Tony began, “I’d like you to meet Bethany Kent. My future bride.”

      Only one person in the entire room moved. A small woman with white hair leaned heavily on her cane as she ambled closer.

      “This is my Grandma Rosa,” Tony said quietly.

      Rosa Petrocelli was eighty-five years old if she was a day, and obviously accepted her position as head of the family as her just due. Her gaze started at Beth’s feet and trailed upward, ending at her face. She finished her