She clutched his shoulders against the stinging stretch, pressed her cheek so hard against his jaw that his beard abraded her skin. When he was finally buried, she gave a sob.
He kissed the corners of her eyes, her mouth, caressed her breasts. Only then did he move in a slow, hard thrust . . .
She sobbed and arched.
He began to move in earnest. The muscles in his back and shoulders quivered beneath her palms, and the slow, deep throb inside her built. Nothing existed but the bed, their bodies, a lush, blazing wildness.
Thrust and withdraw. Arch and accept.
The ancient rhythms pushed them into oblivion.
* * *
Contentment radiated from her in waves, and that made Mat feel so good he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He rubbed her shoulder. She was soft everywhere. Soft, sweet, and irresistible.
Her hair brushed his chin, and she curled a bare leg over his. If she moved her leg much farther, she’d discover that he was hard again, something he didn’t want her to figure out quite yet. She needed some time. Hell, so did he. Not time for his body to adjust, but his mind.
Her breath tickled his chest hair as she spoke. “That was fabulous.”
She had no idea.
It shouldn’t have been so good. It should have been intimidating, considering who she was. Setting that aside, it should have been what sex generally was to him, a great time with a nice lady. But this particular lady hadn’t been all that nice. She’d been snooty and snappy, deliberately provoking, exciting in ways he’d never expected.
And what he couldn’t seem to take in . . . this thing that he kept trying to push out of his mind only to have it jump right back in . . . it seemed impossible, but everything inside him told him that she’d been new at this. Very new.
He shied away from the idea, only to have it return. She’d been like somebody seeing Paris for the first time, or riding her first roller coaster, or learning how to scuba dive. She hadn’t been with anybody. Not even her dead husband, the former President of the United States.
It was knowledge he could never use. He accepted that. But he still wanted to confirm it. Not for a story, but for himself.
She’d started doodling on his chest. “I know I’m too skinny. Thank you for not mentioning it.”
He smiled. Women and their bodies. He’d heard every complaint in the book, right down to one sister insisting her thumbs were too fat and another who’d spent three days with her thighs bound in Saran Wrap.
“Women starve themselves to have a body like yours.”
“It’s too skinny.”
That was true, but her thinness was part of her identity. It was as if her enthusiasm for life burned up the food she ate before it could settle anywhere. He put his hand over her stomach. “In case you haven’t noticed, your stomach isn’t as flat as it was the day we met.”
She shoved his hand out of the way and replaced it with her own. “Yes, it is. I can’t feel anything.”
He hid his smile in her hair. “Sure, it feels flat now because you’re lying down, but when you get up, you’ll see that you’re getting a belly.”
“I am not!”
He laughed.
She rolled on top of him to wrestle the laugh away and immediately discovered his secret. Her eyes widened with delight. “Son of a gun.”
In an instant, he had her beneath him.
Lucy crept into the house with Button in her arms and Squid lumbering behind. Just once she wished her sister would sleep past six-thirty. She gazed at the baby resentfully. “If you make a single sound, I’m going to be really mad. I mean it. You’ve got to keep quiet.”
“Tak!” She poked her fingers in Lucy’s mouth.
Lucy frowned at her and carried her to the stairs. If it weren’t for her sister, she could have packed up her stuff this morning, walked out to the highway, and hitchhiked to California or somewhere before Mat could get hold of her. But she was trapped until Button was safe. That didn’t mean, though, that she wasn’t going to disappear for a while this morning. Mat was always grouchy when he woke up, even when nothing was wrong. Just think how he’d be today.
The baby tucked her face into Lucy’s neck. Lucy knew she was going to have slobber all over her, but she didn’t mind. It was hard being responsible for Button, but it was nice knowing there was one person in the world who loved her.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, the baby had gotten heavy and Lucy’s arms were hurting. She set her down in the hallway and slipped the key into the lock as quietly as she could. She winced against the clicking sound as she turned it, but she didn’t hear any noise coming from the other side of the door.
The baby started crawling after Squid. Lucy hurried after her and picked her up.
“Lal!”
Lucy smeared her hand over her mouth. More slobber. She carried her back to the door and whispered in her ear to be quiet. Then she pulled her hand away and slowly turned the knob.
The door gave a little creak as she pushed it open. As much as she wanted to reassure herself that everything was okay again with Mat and Nell, she didn’t look at the bed because she’d be grossed out if she saw anything. Instead, she set Button on the floor inside and closed the door.
The moment the lock clicked, she and Squid fled downstairs and out the front door. There was a Dunkin’ Donuts not too far away. The two of them would hang out there until the stores opened, then they’d walk around downtown. She only hoped Mat and Nell had both cooled down by the time she came back.
“Gah! ”
Mat peeled his eyes open and squinted against the light. He’d lost count of how many times they’d made love during the night, and he wasn’t nearly ready for morning.
Nealy was curled against him, and he shifted his hand so it covered her breast. It made a soft, warm weight in his palm. His lids drooped. He settled back around her.
Something wet and sharp invaded his ear canal.
He twisted his head and stared into a beaming baby face.
“Daaaaaa . . .”
He groaned. “Aww, man . . .”
She slapped the mattress with her hands, then reached toward him. He glanced toward the closed door, but Lucy had beat a hasty retreat.
“DA . . . DA . . . DA . . . DA!” The baby squealed and beat on the mattress like a bongo.
Nealy stirred next to him. The Demon squealed louder, the familiar mulish look on her face declaring she was a woman to be reckoned with. He reached over, scooped her up, and dumped her on his chest.
She beamed at him and dropped some spit on his chin. “Daaaa . . .”
Nealy turned, her eyes slowly opening.
The Demon gave a delighted shriek and dug her knees into his belly. Seconds later, she plopped on top of Nealy.
Nealy let out an oof, then her forehead crumpled in distress. “Oh, Mat!”
The baby crawled up her body as if it were the yellow brick road, sprawled across her face, and reached for the brass headboard.
“Agile little thing, isn’t she?”
Nealy shifted the baby’s butt enough to free her face. “This is terrible!”
“Could be a lot worse. At least that diaper’s not loaded.”
“That’s not what I mean. We’re naked!”
Mat slid his hand around Nealy’s thigh. “Son of a gun. You’re right.”
“Don’t you dare try to be funny about this.”
“Tell me we’re not back to that thing about traumatizing her for life.”
“We’re naked. This bedroom reeks of . . . well, you know what I mean.”
He regarded her blankly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Monkey business, that’s what!”
“Monkey business? Is that what you call some of the best sex either one of us is ever going to have?”
“Really?” The soft, vulnerable look made him wish he’d kept his big mouth shut, but his brain always woke up a few minutes after his body.
The Demon grabbed a handful of Nealy’s hair and beamed down at her. Nealy’s expression grew troubled again, but the baby kept smiling. Then she started this soft little babble, talking to Nealy as if she could understand every word. Nealy’s face began to glow in a way that made Mat’s insides cramp. This whole thing—the baby in their bed, Nealy curled next to him, the memory of last night—it was all too much for him.
He slipped out from under the covers and grabbed his shorts from the floor. Nealy alternated between staring at him and trying to spare the baby the sight of a buck-naked, fully erect man.
The Demon was making more happy sounds, giving Nealy the adoration she normally bestowed on him. Apparently the baby believed she had him right where she wanted and was now free to move on to her next conquest. Not far from the truth.
She dropped her head and pressed her wet mouth to Nealy’s chin. For a moment Nealy just lay there, then she cradled the baby’s head. At the same time, her mouth set in this stubborn line that told him she wanted to cry, but wouldn’t do it.
He forgot about snapping his jeans. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s just so perfect.”
He gazed down at the baby, who had now plopped her thumb in her mouth and stretched full length on top of Nealy. He started to make some wiseass remark about how nobody could call the Demon perfect, but the words stuck in his throat because they looked so beautiful lying there together.
Then he started seeing visions of hair bows, Barbies, tampons, and thirty-six shades of lipstick. This was not what he wanted! He needed to get out of this room—he felt claustrophobic—but he couldn’t leave with Nealy working so hard at keeping her eyes dry.
He scooped up the baby and sat on the side of the bed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
For a moment she didn’t say anything, and then the words came in a rush. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. It’s . . . When I was young . . .” She struggled to hold it back, but couldn’t. “There was a photograph taken of me when I was sixteen. In Ethiopia, with a baby who was starving . . .”
“I remember.”
“The baby died, Mat. Right after the picture was taken. When I was still holding her.”
“Oh, sweetheart . . .”
“And that wasn’t the end. There have been so many since then. Babies in terrible agony, suffering from starvation, from unspeakable diseases. AIDS babies. Crack babies. You can’t imagine . . .”
As it all spilled out of her, he understood the price she’d paid for those photographs of America’s immaculately groomed, perfectly poised First Lady holding an afflicted infant. It was no wonder she believed she was somehow cursed.
“I couldn’t stop. There’s so much need. But I . . . I started thinking of myself as the—” Her voice broke. “The Angel of Baby Death.”
He put the Demon on the floor and drew her against his chest. “It’s all right, sweetheart . . . It’s all right . . .” He stroked her bare, soft back, whispered goofy stuff into her ear, did everything he could to take away the hurt.
The Demon didn’t like being set aside, and it wasn’t long before she started to yelp. Nealy got embarrassed and pulled back from him. “This is silly. I shouldn’t have—”
“Just shut up,” he said gently. “You’re entitled to a couple of well-earned neuroses.”
She gave a watery smile. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
He nodded. The Demon’s screams grew louder. Nealy frowned and he could feel her growing agitated. “She’s really upset.”
He gently caught her chin and turned her head toward the furious infant. “Look at her, Nealy. Just look at her. She’s screaming her lungs out, but there’s not a single tear in those eyes. She’s just testing her limits.”
“Yes, but—”
“All babies aren’t suffering. I know you understand that in your head. Just try to feel it in your heart.”
He picked up the Demon, and as he set her in Nealy’s arms, he knew there was no bromide he could offer that would undo all those years of trauma. Button would have to do the job on her own.
Lucy still hadn’t returned by the time he and Nealy had finished eating a breakfast neither of them wanted. Although she’d taken the dog with her, she’d left all her things in the motor home, so he knew she planned on coming back. He tried to figure out how he was going to deal with her when that happened.
He and Nealy hadn’t talked much since they’d left the bedroom. She kept making busywork for herself so she could pretend she was tough as nails and hadn’t lost her dignity getting teary over the Demon. He wanted to take her back upstairs and start all over again, but the baby was in the way.
Both of their heads came up as they heard a dog bark. Nealy grabbed the Demon and followed him outside.
Lucy was approaching the front porch with Squid on a new leash. She froze as she saw him standing there.
He glowered down at her. “You’re so busted.”
That small head came up, those little shoulders shot back, her top lip trembled. “Big deal. I don’t care.”
He shoved his hand toward the garage. “Go in there and find some garden tools. I want every weed pulled from that flower bed in the back. And make it snappy.”
She stared at him. “You want me to weed that dinky little flower bed?”
“You got a hearing problem?”
“No. No!” Delighted that she had escaped so easily, she ran to the garage.
Nealy regarded him with amusement. “You’re one tough hombre. That’s going to take her . . . oh, maybe an hour.”
He smiled back at her. “She was responsible for one of the best nights of my life. It’s hard to get too mad at her.”
She nodded. And then she said the strangest thing. “Thanks.”
He was standing there basking in her approval and grinning like a fool when a truck towing a silver Airstream drew up in front of the house.
He stared at it. He’d seen lots of Airstreams recently, but there was something familiar about this one.
The door of the truck opened and two badly dressed senior citizens climbed out.
No. It wasn’t possible!
“Yoo-hoo! Mat! Nell!”
Nealy gave a delighted squeal as Bertis and Charlie Wayne charged up the sidewalk.
He sagged against the porch post. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse . . . First it had been the kids . . . then he’d added a wife and a dog. Next had come a house in Iowa . . . then a Ford Explorer.
Now Grandma and Grandpa had shown up.
17
CHARLIE SHOOK HANDS with Mat while Bertis hugged Nealy and tweaked Button’s toes. Nealy still couldn’t believe they were here. “How did you know where to find us?”
“Didn’t Lucy tell you? She gave us the address just before you left. What a dickens that child is.”
Just seeing Bertis made Nealy feel better. Last night had turned her world upside down. She’d expected to enjoy making love with Mat, but she hadn’t expected that great rush of feeling to last.
It was hard to remind herself this was only a fling. If she was lucky, they would have another one or two nights together, but then it would end. Sometime in the distant future when it wouldn’t be so painful, she could see herself taking out the memories to examine while she was standing in a receiving line or listening to an overly long speech. The idea depressed her. Bertis and Charlie had arrived at a perfect time.
“Lucy’ll be thrilled to see you.” She shifted Button to her hip. “She’s working out back right now.”
“It’s good to keep them busy.” Bertis slipped on her reading glasses, peered at Button, and wiped a speck from the baby’s chin. “Since we were heading west anyway, we decided to stop by and check on you.”
Charlie stretched to ease a kink from his back. “We’re going to Yosemite, always wanted to see it. But we aren’t in any hurry, and Bertis was worried about Lucy.”
Bertis let her reading glasses fall back onto their chain. “We thought it might be
hard on her finally having to face her grandmother’s death.”
Mat’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about her grandmother?”
“Oh, she told us all about her.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Imagine a fifty-three-year-old woman marrying one of her students. Of course, I didn’t say what I was thinking to Lucy.”
Mat’s jaw was starting to twitch. “You knew about Nico, too?”
“See, Charlie, I told you his name wasn’t Nick, but you always argue with me.”
Charlie scratched his head. “What kind of name is Nico?”
“That’s not the point. The point is that I was right and you were wrong.”
“Which is a good thing because if it ever turns out the other way around, I’ll probably have that heart attack you’re always warning me about.”
She gave his hand a fond pat, then turned to study Mat. “You and Nell sure have been busy these last few days.”
Mat smiled. “Things happen.”
Nealy couldn’t figure out why everybody was looking at her. “What?”
Mat regarded her with a combination of amusement and warning. “I think Bertis and Charlie have noticed your recent pregnancy.”
Nealy’s hand flew to her waist. She’d been so surprised by their appearance that she’d completely forgotten. Two days ago when they’d last seen the Waynes, her stomach had been flat. She regarded them with dismay. “Oh. I . . .”
“Why don’t you come inside?” Mat walked up the steps to the porch, not looking all that upset about having them around. “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Good idea.” Bertis bustled after him. “Charlie, go get those Jiffy blueberry muffins I made this morning.” She regarded Nealy conspiratorially. “I fix them from scratch when I’m home, but there’s nothing like a Jiffy mix when you’re on the road. That’s one product they’ve been smart enough not to tinker with.”
Nealy had never heard of Jiffy mixes, and she tried to figure out how she was going to explain the pregnancy padding.
Mat’s hand settled warm and comforting against the small of her back. “Blueberry muffins sound great.”
As he fixed coffee, Bertis made no reference to Nealy’s phony pregnancy. Instead, she chatted about her own grandchildren, then put the muffins Charlie brought on a pottery plate Nell found in the cupboard. They carried everything out to the sunporch, then Bertis called out to Lucy, who was working around the rosebushes.
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