by Nora Roberts
“Oh, I intend to.”
“Good.” Satisfied, Clarissa patted his hand. “Now I think you should try the quiche. I wheedled the recipe out of the caterer. It’s fascinating.”
“So are you.” David leaned down to kiss her cheek. A.J. all but exhausted herself. She moved from group to group, sipping champagne and barely tasting anything from the impressive display of food. The cake with its iced swans and hearts was cut and devoured. Wine flowed and music played. Couples danced on the lawn.
“I thought you’d like to know I read Steiger’s script.” After stepping beside her, David kept his eyes on the dancers. “It’s extraordinary.”
Business, she thought. It was best to keep their conversation on business. “Are you considering producing it?”
“Considering. That’s a long way from doing it. I have a meeting with Steiger Monday.”
“That’s wonderful.” She couldn’t stop the surge of pleasure for him. She couldn’t help showing it. “You’ll be sensational.”
“And if the script ever makes it to the screen, you’ll have been the catalyst.”
“I like to think so.”
“I haven’t waltzed since I was thirteen.” David slipped a hand to her elbow and felt the jolt. “My mother made me dance with my cousin, and at the time I felt girls were a lower form of life. I’ve changed my mind since.” His arm slid around her waist. “You’re tense.”
She concentrated on the count, on matching her steps to his, on anything but the feel of having him hold her again. “I want everything to be perfect for her.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that anymore.”
Her mother danced with Alex as though they were alone in the garden. “No.” She sighed before she could prevent it. “I don’t.”
“You’re allowed to feel a little sad.” Her scent was there as he remembered, quietly tempting.
“No, it’s selfish.”
“It’s normal,” he corrected. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I feel as though I’ve lost her.” She was going to cry. A.J. steeled herself against it.
“You haven’t.” He brushed his lips along her temple. “And the feeling will pass.”
When he was kind, she was lost. When he was gentle, she was defenseless. “David.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “I missed you.”
It cost her to say it. The first layer of pride that covered all the rest dissolved with the words. She felt his hand tense, then gentle on her waist.
“Aurora.”
“Please, don’t say anything now.” The control she depended on wouldn’t protect her now. “I just wanted you to know.”
“We need to talk.”
Even as she started to agree, the announcement blared over the mike. “All unmarried ladies, line up now for the bouquet toss.”
“Come on, A.J.” Her new stepsister, laughing and eager, grabbed her arm and hustled her along. “We have to see who’s going to be next.”
She wasn’t interested in bouquets or giddy young women. Her life was on the line. Distracted, A.J. glanced around for David. She looked back in time to throw up her hands defensively before her mother’s bouquet landed in her face. Embarrassed, A.J. accepted the congratulations and well-meaning teasing.
“Another sign?” Clarissa commented as she pecked her daughter’s cheek.
“A sign that my mother has eyes in the back of her head and excellent aim.” A.J. indulged herself with burying her face in the bouquet. It was sweet, and promising. “You should keep this.”
“Oh, no. That would be bad luck and I don’t intend to have any.”
“I’m going to miss you, Momma.”
She understood—she always had—but she smiled and gave A.J. another kiss. “I’ll be back in two weeks.”
She barely had time for another fierce embrace before her mother and Alex dashed off in a hail of rice and cheers.
Some guests left, others lingered. When the first streaks of sunset deepened the sky she watched the orchestra pack up their instruments.
“Long day.”
She turned to David and reached out a hand before she could help it. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Just got out of the way for a while. You did a good job.”
“I can’t believe it’s done.” She looked over as the last of the chairs were folded and carted away.
“I could use some coffee.”
She smiled, trying to convince herself to be light. “Do we have any left?”
“I put some on before I came back out.” He walked with her to the house. “Where were they going on their honeymoon?”
The house was so empty. Strange, she’d never noticed just how completely Clarissa had filled it. “Sailing.” She laughed a little, then found herself looking helplessly around the kitchen. “I have a hard time picturing Clarissa hoisting sails.”
“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Sit down and have a good cry. You’re entitled.”
“I’m happy for her.” But the tears began to fall. “Alex is a wonderful man and I know he loves her.”
“But she doesn’t need you to take care of her anymore.” He handed her a mug of coffee. “Drink.”
Nodding, she sipped. “She’s always needed me.”
“She still does.” He took the handkerchief and dried her cheeks himself. “Just in a different way.”
“I feel like a fool.”
“The trouble with you is you can’t accept that you’re supposed to feel like a fool now and again.”
She blew her nose, unladylike and indignant. “I don’t like it.”
“Not supposed to. Have you finished crying?”
She sulked a moment, sniffled, then sipped more coffee. “Yes.”
“Tell me again that you missed me.”
“It was a moment of weakness,” she murmured into the mug, but he took it away from her.
“No more evasions, Aurora. You’re going to tell me what you want, what you feel.”
“I want you back.” She swallowed and wished he would say something instead of just staring at her.
“Go on.”
“David, you’re making this difficult.”
“Yeah, I know.” He didn’t touch her, not yet. He needed more than that. “For both of us.”
“All right.” She steadied herself with a deep breath. “When you suggested we live together, I wasn’t expecting it. I wanted to think it through, but you got angry. Well, since you’ve been away, I’ve had a chance to think it through. I don’t see why we can’t live together under those terms.”
Always negotiating, he thought as he rubbed a hand over his chin. She still wasn’t going to take that last step. “I’ve had a chance to think it through, too. And I’ve changed my mind.”
He could have slapped her and not have knocked the wind from her so successfully. Rejection, when it came, was always painful, but it had never been like this. “I see.” She turned away to pick up her coffee, but her hands weren’t nearly steady enough.
“You did a great job on this wedding, A.J.”
Closing her eyes, she wondered why she felt like laughing. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”
“Seems to me like you could plan another standing on your head.”
“Oh, sure.” She pressed her fingers to her eyes. “I might go into the business.”
“No, I was thinking about just one more. Ours.”
The tears weren’t going to fall. She wouldn’t let them. It helped to concentrate on that. “Our what?”
“Wedding. Aren’t you paying attention?”
She turned slowly to see him watching her with what appeared to be mild amusement. “What are you talking about?”
“I noticed you caught the bouquet. I’m superstitious.”
“This isn’t funny.” Before she could stalk from the room he had caught her close.
“Damn right it’s not. It’s not funny that I’ve spent eleven days and twelve nights thinki
ng of little but you. It’s not funny that every time I took a step closer, you took one back. Every time I’d plan something out, the whole thing would be blown to hell after five minutes with you.”
“It’s not going to solve anything to shout at me.”
“It’s not going to solve anything until you start listening and stop anticipating. Look, I didn’t want this any more than you did. I liked my life just the way it was.”
“That’s fine, then. I liked my life, too.”
“Then we both have a problem, because nothing’s going to be quite the same again.”
Why couldn’t she breathe? Temper never made her breathless. “Why not?”
“Guess.” He kissed her then, hard, angry, as if he wanted to kick out at both of them. But it only took an instant, a heartbeat. His lips softened, his hold gentled and she was molded to him. “Why don’t you read my mind? Just this once, Aurora, open yourself up.”
She started to shake her head, but his mouth was on hers again. The house was quiet. Outside, the birds serenaded the lowering sun. The light was dimming and there was nothing but that one room and that one moment. Feelings poured into her, feelings that once would have brought fear. Now they offered, requested and gave her everything she’d been afraid to hope for.
“David.” Her arms tightened around him. “I need you to tell me. I couldn’t bear to be wrong.”
Hadn’t he needed words? Hadn’t he tried time and again to pry them out of her? Maybe it was time to give them to her. “The first time I met your mother, she said something to me about needing to understand or discover my own tenderness. That first weekend you stayed with me, I came home and found you sleeping on the bed. I looked at you, the woman who’d been my lover, and fell in love. The problem was I didn’t know how to make you fall in love with me.”
“I already had. I didn’t think you—”
“The problem was you did think. Too much.” He drew her away, only to look at her. “So did I. Be civilized. Be careful. Wasn’t that the way we arranged things?”
“It seemed like the right way.” She swallowed and moved closer. “It didn’t work for me. When I fell in love with you, all I could think was that I’d ruin everything by wanting too much.”
“And I thought if I asked, you’d be gone before the words were out.” He brushed his lips over her brow. “We wasted time thinking when we should have been feeling.”
She should be cautious, but there was such ease, such quiet satisfaction, in just holding him. “I was afraid you’d never be able to accept what I am.”
“So was I.” He kissed one cheek, then the other. “We were both wrong.”
“I need you to be sure. I need to know that it doesn’t matter.”
“Aurora. I love you, who you are, what you are, how you are. I don’t know how else to tell you.”
She closed her eyes. Clarissa and she had been right to drink to hope. That was all there was. “You just found the best way.”
“There’s more.” He held her, waiting until she looked at him again. And he saw, as he’d needed to, her heart in her eyes. “I want to spend my life with you. Have children with you. There’s never been another woman who’s made me want those things.”
She took his face in her hands and lifted her mouth to his. “I’m going to see to it there’s never another.”
“Tell me how you feel.”
“I love you.”
He held her close, content. “Tell me what you want.”
“A lifetime. Two, if we can manage it.”