Silver Linings

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Hugh?”

  “Tell me you want me, Mattie. At least give me that much.”

  “I want you. You know that. That isn't the point.”

  “It is tonight.” He leaned down, lifted the covers, and crawled in beside her. “If you don't want me to touch you, I won't. But I can't take any more nights alone down there on your couch.” He reached out and caressed the curve of her shoulder. “I've spent too damn many nights alone, babe.”

  Mattie searched his face for a long moment and then, with a small sigh of surrender, she raised herself up on her elbow and kissed his sensual mouth. Her lips grazed fleetingly across his. Her fingers glided over his hard chest like butterflies.

  “Mattie.” Hugh's groan of relief came from deep within him. He half lifted himself and pushed her eagerly back onto the pillows. Then he came down on top of her like a ton of bricks.

  Mattie lay crushed beneath Hugh's weight, her mouth open to him. She was aware of his big hands moving hungrily on her, sliding down over her breasts to her stomach and lower. He wedged his leg between her thighs, prying them apart, and then his hand was on her in an intimate caress.

  Mattie gasped, feeling herself growing warm and moist almost instantly. His tongue filled her mouth. She arched her hips, straining against him, and her head tilted back over his arm.

  “That's it, babe. God, yes. So hot. So wet. So good.” He settled himself quickly between her legs and reached down to wrap her thighs around his hips. “Squeeze me tight, babe. Take me inside and hold me.”

  Mattie felt the heat and excitement flood her senses. She wanted to tell him to slow down, but she could not find the words. It was all so hard and fast and overwhelming with Hugh. Making love with him was as primitive an experience as swimming in the sea or running through a jungle. There seemed to be no slow, delicate, civilized way to do it.

  She could feel his manhood prodding at her now, feel his fingers parting the soft petals, guiding himself into her.

  “Tight,” he said in husky wonder as he flexed his hips to drive himself deep inside. “Babe, you feel so damn good.”

  And then he was in all the way, filling her, stretching her, setting off five-alarm fires at each of her nerve endings. His mouth covered hers again, and his possession of it was as deep and damp and complete as his possession of the slick, tight, sensitive sheath between her legs.

  Mattie closed her eyes and let go of whatever strings still bound her to earth. She put her arms around Hugh and clung to him with all her strength.

  It was a wild, glorious run through the night with a giant wolf. She was free at last and with her true mate. There was nothing soft or gentle about the trip, but when it all ended in a shower of tiny, delicious convulsions that rippled through her, Mattie was exultant.

  She turned her face into the pillow and took long, deep breaths.

  “Mattie?”

  “Yes?”

  “From now on I sleep up here with you. Do we agree on that much, at least?”

  “Yes.”

  “You see?” Hugh chuckled in the darkness as he rolled onto his back. “We do have a lot in common.”

  “Sex isn't everything, Hugh.”

  “No, but it's a start.” He sounded lazy and satisfied. “A damn good start. And it isn't all we've got going for us,” he added around a huge yawn. “I told you that earlier tonight.”

  “So just what do we have in common?” She was curious in spite of herself. Mattie propped herself up on her elbows and looked down at him. “Go on, Hugh. Name one thing.”

  The intensity in his silvery-gray eyes was clear even in the shadows. “Don't you understand? We're both misfits, babe. Changelings. Round pegs in square holes for most of our lives.”

  Mattie blinked, startled. Then she frowned. “That's not true.”

  “It's true. I think you recognized it first. That's probably why you begged me to take you with me a year ago. You understood it instinctively then, but after I left you behind you were too angry to give me a second chance. Now you're making up excuses, telling yourself I only want you because I didn't get Ariel. You're bent on trying to convince me our lifestyles are too different to allow us to get together.”

  “Our lifestyles are too different. There's no compromise possible for us, Hugh. And you did want Ariel at first. You can't deny it. You still wanted her, even after you made love to me that first time.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, it's true, damn it. You said I wasn't your type, remember? ‘Thank you very much for the roll in the hay, but I've got a plane to the islands to catch.’”

  “You're running scared, Mattie,” he said gently. “Why don't you admit it? I know it took everything you had to make your big offer a year ago, and I was a fool for turning it down. But you've got plenty of guts, babe. I know that for sure now after watching you handle yourself out in the islands. Why not give our relationship another chance? A real chance?”

  She sucked in her breath on a fierce exclamation. “I don't have to make my offer again, remember? You've already made yours. You chose to follow me to Seattle. You're here now, so I don't have to go back there, do I?”

  They were silent for a long time while they gazed at each other through the shadows. It was a contest of wills. Mattie could feel Hugh's determination beating at her, looking for weak spots. She held herself very still, the way a rabbit did when confronted by a wolf.

  And then the wolf grinned. “Relax, babe. It's going to work out. You'll see. You just need a little time to learn to trust me. Now, go to sleep. We've both got to go to work tomorrow.”

  “Hugh,” Mattie said on a wave of genuine anxiety, “do you like working at Vailcourt headquarters?”

  “I've worked in worse places.”

  “You don't like it. You hate it, don't you? You're not an urban person, Hugh. We both know that.”

  “Don't worry about it. Like I said, I've worked in worse places.”

  “But, Hugh—”

  “Hush, babe. Go to sleep.” He pulled her against his side, cradling her close to his hard, lean strength, and put one muscled leg over her slender calf.

  Mattie sensed him slipping into sleep within minutes. But she lay awake for a long time.

  Mattie lounged back in her chair behind the tiny desk in her office and studied the bizarre-looking creature in front of her.

  Shock Value Frederickson, as she was calling herself this month, was about twenty-five years old. She was thin to the point of being scrawny and had a lot of chartreuse hair that stood out in a stiff, gelled halo around her head. She was wearing a couple of dozen clanking metal bracelets on each arm and four rings in each ear. She also had a ring in her nose, a delicate steel one. Her light hazel eyes were outlined in black and gold, and her clothes were a hodgepodge of Salvation Army rejects held together by a heavy metal belt.

  “So what do you think, Mattie?” Shock Value indicated her latest metal sculpture, which was sitting on the floor beside her chair. “Will you handle it for me?”

  Mattie sighed. “You're obviously still in your End-of-the-World period, Shock. It's interesting, but we both know it's not going to appeal to my clients. Maybe Christine Ferguson's gallery can handle it.”

  Shock Value squirmed uneasily in her chair. Metal jangled on her wrists and ears. “She didn't want it, either. Neither did anyone else I tried. Mattie, I'm in kind of a bad spot at the moment. I spent my last ten bucks on supplies, and I haven't sold anything in months.”

  “I thought you were getting by with that restaurant job I lined up for you.”

  “I was. And it was really great of you to get me that job, Mattie, but they just didn't understand me there.” Shock Value leaned forward earnestly. “You know what? They actually canned me just because I came in late a few times. Can you believe it? I told them I'd been working all night in my studio and time had sort of gotten away from me, but the manager wouldn't listen.”

  “I see.”

  “Mattie, please. I'm working on some rea
lly strong stuff. I just need a little time and a little cash to carry me for a few weeks until I can finish it.”

  “More stuff like Dead Hole?” Mattie nodded toward the piece on the floor.

  Shock Value shock her chartreuse-fringed head impatiently. “No, no, that's all gone. I've worked through that period. I mean, it was useful and everything because it got me focused, you know? But now I'm working toward the important stuff. But I need to be able to work.”

  “You should have spent your last ten bucks on food instead of supplies, Shock. You're getting too thin.”

  “I don't care about food. I've got to be able to buy my materials. You know how expensive metal-working supplies are.”

  “The whole point of getting you that job in the restaurant was so you wouldn't starve yourself for your art. That place allows the employees one free meal a day.”

  “I know. But I usually missed it.”

  Mattie groaned. “Have you looked into food stamps? Welfare?”

  “Mattie, the government wants you to prove you're looking for work. I can't do that. I'm already working. My art is my work. I swear I'll go back to being a waitress just as soon as I finish the piece I'm designing now. I just need a few more weeks of freedom. I've got to get some cash. Fast. If you can't sell Dead Hole, could you at least make me a small loan?”

  Mattie surveyed the piece Shock Value had brought with her. Dead Hole was one of several creations the young artist had done lately using wire, rusted iron, and used Styrofoam cups.

  There was no doubt but that Shock Value's work was uniquely robust and filled with energy. Mattie had seen the possibilities in it right from the start. But the art was not quite ready to be born. Mattie knew that no matter how energetic it was, Dead Hole was never going to sell in her gallery. It had a power all its own, but it was the power generated by ugliness.

  Still, one of these days Shock Value Frederickson was going to be brilliant, and in the meantime the woman had to eat.

  “Will a hundred hold you for a while?” Mattie finally asked.

  Shock Value nodded quickly. “Anything. You can keep Dead Hole as collateral.”

  Mattie reached for her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk and took out the five twenties she had just picked up at the bank. “Here you go. You can take Dead Hole with you, but I want you to swear on your life that you'll let me have first crack at whatever it is you're working on now. Deal?”

  “You got it.” Shock Value beamed in relief as she scooped up her metal sculpture and plucked the twenties from Mattie's fingers. “You won't regret this, Mattie, I promise. Thanks.”

  Shock Value whirled and headed for the door of the small office with her usual frenzied energy. She nearly collided with Ariel, who was just about to enter.

  “'Scuse me,” Shock Value mumbled, rushing past with Dead Hole clutched in her hands.

  Ariel looked at Mattie. “How much did you give her?”

  “A hundred.”

  “You'll never see it again.” Ariel walked in and sat down in the chair Shock Value had just vacated.

  Mattie put her purse back in the drawer. “I don't know about that. Shock's going to be very good one of these days. Maybe even commercial once she gets control of her talent. Her work has an edgy, vibrant quality that might translate very well into the sort of thing I can sell here at Sharpe Reaction.”

  “You mean if she makes her work pretty enough to appeal to your middlebrow businessmen, shopkeepers, and computer-nerd clients?”

  Mattie grimaced. “I know you don't have a high opinion of the sort of people who buy the work in my gallery, Ariel, but I could do without another lecture on the subject. Face it, I'm one of those hopeless cases who really does believe there's such a thing as good art for the masses. Like Mrs. Eberly says, why hang something in your living room that nauseates you whenever you look at it?”

  Ariel's smile was bitter. “Yes, we both know your own tastes, don't we? But that's not really what I want to talk about.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Tell me, sister dear, do you like playing Earth Mother to my Castrating Bitch role? Personally, I'm getting a little tired of it. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave my men alone.”

  “Oh, hell,” Mattie said. “It's going to be one of those unpleasant big sister versus little sister chats, isn't it? You know how I have those. You always win.” Mattie leaned precariously back in her chair and checked to see that there was water in the small hot pot sitting on the floor behind her. When she saw it was full, she switched it on.

  “Mattie, this has gone too far.”

  “You want some herbal tea and some oat bran muffins? I have a couple left over from breakfast.”

  “For God's sake, Mattie, no, I do not want an oat bran muffin. How can you think about health food at a time like this? But that's you right to the core. I can't stand it. I have never been able to stand it. No one in the family can stand it. The rest of us vent our emotions in a normal, healthy way, but not you, you always try to change the subject.”

  “You know I'm not very good at confrontations,” Mattie reminded her humbly. She eyed the oat bran muffin and decided she wasn't hungry. “They make me tense.”

  It was true. When it came to arguing with anyone in her temperamental, high-spirited, high-strung clan, she was always at a disadvantage for the simple reason that she was the only one in her family who truly dreaded scenes. They made her physically sick. Everyone else thrived on them. What's more they were very good at them. On the rare occasion Mattie had tried to stage a major scene, she had always felt outclassed, outgunned, and outacted.

  Except when she had staged one with Hugh, she realized. She had actually lost her temper with Hugh more than once, and she had not felt nauseated at all.

  “Maybe you don't handle scenes well because you're such a wimp, Mattie. If you'd just fight back once in a while, you wouldn't get so tense.”

  Mattie sighed. “I don't have the personality for the kind of dramatics you and Mom and Dad and everyone else in the family enjoy so much. That kind of thing just puts me under a lot of stress. You know I try to avoid stress these days.”

  “You don't know what stress is,” Ariel shot back. “I'll tell you what real stress is. Last night was real stress for me.”

  “Last night?” Mattie glanced up in surprise. “What was so stressful about last night? The retrospective of your work was a great success.”

  “Oh, sure. You think it was my work everyone was talking about after you left? Well, it wasn't. The main topic of conversation was that cozy little scene of you and Flynn and Emery and Hugh all huddled together out on the sidewalk talking like the great friends you obviously are. And then you, my dear sister, had the gall to get into a cab with my ex-husband and my ex-fiancé and drive off into the night. How do you think that made me feel?”

  “I didn't think anyone noticed,” Mattie said weakly.

  “Bullshit. You like doing things like that, don't you? You like making me look like the Wicked Witch while you play Snow White.” Ariel sprang to her feet and took a turn around the room.

  “That's not how it is, Ariel.” Mattie watched her sister warily. Ariel was working herself up into one of her full-scale storms. She was capable of generating real thunder and lightning when she got going.

  “Don't tell me how it is. I know how it is. It's always been like that. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of Amazon goddess in a cast-iron bra who gets her kicks from destroying men. But it's not true.” She spun around and glared at Mattie. “The divorce from Emery was not my fault, you know.”

  “I know, Ariel.”

  “No, you don't know, damn you. How could you know? You've never been married. Why should you bother? You're having too much fun comforting the men who get bruised and battered by me, aren't you?”

  “Now, hold on, Ariel…”

  “Too much fun letting everyone think you're the only one with any real sensitivity; too much fun compensating for your lack of artis
tic talent by demonstrating the depths of your womanly empathy and understanding. You've already hooked Emery and Hugh, but you're not satisfied. Now you've finally got your claws into Flynn, too.”

  “That's not true.” Mattie sat stunned in her chair. It had never occurred to her that Ariel might actually be jealous of Flynn. Ariel always seemed so self-assured when it came to men, as assured as she was about her talent.

  “It is true. You want to add Flynn to your collection of scalps, don't you? You want to prove you can make him turn to you for a comforting bosom to cry on just like the others do. Do you know what Emery once said about you? He said you were such a sweet, old-fashioned sort of woman. Very gentle on a man's ego. The kind who was born to be waiting faithfully back at the castle when the warrior came home from battle.”

  Mattie put her head in her hands. “God, that does sound awful, doesn't it? Especially when everyone knows that in real life men are bored to tears by that kind of woman.”

  “I won't let you do it, Mattie.”

  “Do what?” Mattie looked up again.

  “You can have Emery and you can have Hugh, if you really want them, although Lord knows why you would. But you cannot have Flynn.”

  “I don't want Flynn, damn it.” Mattie shot to her feet as the stress of the moment finally galvanized her into action. “I didn't want Emery, either. We've never been anything more than friends and that's the gospel truth. The only one I ever wanted was Hugh, and he wasn't particularly interested when I offered myself on a silver platter last year. So stop making it sound like I'm some kind of Jezebel who specializes in your cast-off men. I don't want your leftovers, Ariel. I never did.”

  Ariel was staring at her. “What do you mean, you offered yourself to Hugh on a silver platter last year?”

  “Oh, damn, why did I let you drag me into this stupid argument. Forget it. Forget it. Forget everything.” The rare and unfamiliar passion of rage died as quickly as it had arisen. Mattie sank back wearily into her chair, surprised to discover that although she felt drained, she didn't feel sick to her stomach. She was getting better at anger. Maybe it was from all the practice she was getting with Hugh.