Jessica twisted in his grasp, but Will was bigger, stronger, and aroused enough to not be thwarted by her efforts.
“Fine,” she said smartly. “I’m going to ask Ellen to be my maid of honor. If the tongues in this town are going to wag about me—by God, let’s give them something good.”
“I’ll tell you what’s good,” Will said, pushing into the wet lovely heat of her as she hissed at him. “Teasing you into becoming a hell cat in bed is good. You better lie still before I start liking this too much. I might provoke you just to get this reaction.”
Jessica screeched in fury as she tried to escape his hold, startling Will into stopping his movements, but instead of pulling completely out of her, he just laughed and drove home harder. After a few moments, he had to stop or it was going to be all over before it began.
“I’ll let go of your wrists as soon as you tell me you know I’m teasing,” Will said on a laugh while he rested inside her and drove them both crazy. “I don’t care about the other men. I’m glad you dated. And I like Steve. I seriously was thinking about asking him.”
“When you let go, I’m going to rip out your guts and feed them to you,” Jessica said dramatically.
“Oh—well in that case,” Will let go of her wrists and rolled them over until she was sitting astride him, still impaled. “Punish me. Make me pay.”
“Bastard,” Jessica said, rocking on him because he had her churned up for sex now.
“Make that lucky bastard,” he told her, closing his eyes at every roll of her hips against his. “I think I’ll have that embroidered on towels. You’re the hottest woman on earth, and I’m the one under you.”
“I don’t give a damn who you ask to stand with you,” Jessica said, freezing as her climax rolled over her. “Damn—too soon. I was trying to go with you.”
Snickering, Will rolled Jessica back over until she was under him again. “Well, let’s finish together. I bet you have a few orgasmic muscle contractions left.”
“You’ve been reading books again, haven’t you?” Jessica demanded. “Oh God—you’re right. Harder—Will—please.”
Will’s husky, proud laughter rumbled through her as she felt him give in to his own climax. Afterward, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her face until she laughed. She was never going to figure him out, but maybe that was part of his appeal to her.
“I’ll marry you anywhere you say. I just want to be with you for the rest of my life,” Will said seriously. “I love you, Jessica. I’m sorry I teased you so much.”
“No you’re not,” Jessica told him. “You’re just being nice and hoping I don’t get even.”
“No,” Will denied, laughing more. “I’m just hoping you seriously don’t ask my ex-wife to be your maid of honor.”
“Don’t be silly,” Jessica said quietly, stroking his back. “Susan is going to be my maid of honor. I’m just going to ask Ellen to arrange the wedding. She did such a good job on Michael’s.”
Will groaned and laughed. “I said I was sorry for teasing you.”
“Not half as sorry as you’re going to be when you read the notice in the paper that former Mrs. Larson arranged the ceremony,” she said, laughing. “You’ll not be able to show your face anywhere without shame. That will teach you.”
“Teach me? Did you have a timeline in mind for the lesson?” Will asked, wondering if next weekend was too soon.
“How about a month? That should give people enough time to get used to it and you enough time to prepare. I’ll call Ellen tomorrow,” Jessica said. “I want to do the reception at the café. Melanie and Brent can cater. They need the business.”
“You’re serious as hell about letting Ellen arrange everything else though, aren’t you?” Will asked.
“Ellen is my new best friend. Blame Shane,” Jessica said, laughing. “She and I are going to become infamous when his book is published.”
“Yeah, that’s what you need—more infamy,” Will said dryly.
“I love you, William. You still owe me nine sexual favors,” Jessica said, curling into a ball and pulling his arm around her. The man made her feel secure without even trying.
Will smiled against Jessica’s back. “I’ll give you the other forty favors if you arrange the wedding yourself.”
“No way—I’m not doing all that work when Ellen so obviously enjoys it. She should be doing it for a living,” Jessica said sharply, laughing loudly as she felt Will swearing against her back.
***
“We need to make a rule about no phone calls before nine in the morning,” Michael said, grumpy that he had been interrupted from kissing the warm and willing woman in his bed. He tossed his cell phone on the nightstand, burrowing back into his wife, who was still completely naked under the covers.
“That was just Dad,” he said.
“Is anything wrong?” Carrie asked.
“No. No—nothing is wrong. They set a date for the wedding. It’s going to be in a month,” Michael said, running his hands over her breasts, really liking the way Carrie’s nipples beaded against his palms.
“That’s great,” Carrie said, sighing at the bliss Michael brought her. “Brooke will be happy.”
“I’m happy,” Michael said, moving his face to her throat as his hair slid down between them.
Carrie pulled his hair across the front of her, feeling her skin through the silky strands. “I’m happy too.”
“You’re not talking about Dad’s wedding—are you?” Michael asked, watching her play with his hair.
Her turquoise gaze met his. “I’m the most happily married woman I know,” she said softly. “You’re turning out to be a great husband, Michael Larson.”
Michael thought his heart would beat its way out of his body trying to handle all the joy he felt. “God, I hope Dad is as contented with Jessica as I am with you,” he said, laying his head next to Carrie’s on the pillow.
This was the “more than sex” moment he’d known, or at least hoped, they would get to eventually. This was the moment of being on the same page about life.
Carrie smiled. “I hope Shane and Reesa work things out too. He’s so gone on her,” she said.
“You’re turning into such a romantic. Are you going to fix Brooke up next?” Michael asked, touching the laugh lines creasing her eyes as she thought about it. He was going to make it his personal mission to deepen them more with every passing year.
“There’s an older guy already interested in Brooke,” Carrie said. “You’d like him. He looks a lot like you—long hair and all.”
“What’s his name?” Michael asked, laughing.
“Drake Barrymore,” Carrie told him. “He’s the current chair of the art department at UK.”
Michael frowned and pulled away. “I know him,” he said, scanning his memory banks and pulling the files forward for perusing.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Carrie asked.
“No. No—Barrymore’s a great painter,” Michael said carefully. “You should look up his work. He has a tragic story behind his art, reminds me a little of Jessica. He lost his wife to cancer. He paints nudes, but his original work was all her—hundreds of paintings of her. Then he painted her with cancer and it was not received as well, but those portraits are wrenching. I went to a showing of his work. He’s very talented.”
Carrie nodded. “I think I’m going to show his work. I heard him tell Brooke he wanted to paint her.”
“Show his work? Like in your gallery?” Michael asked, grinning. “Does that mean you’ve made a decision?”
“Michael—it’s going to take most of the money you mortgaged against the house just to get into the place. What if this doesn’t work? I’m scared of that, and then the budget for renovations is going to be so small that I won’t even be able to buy a real business sign to hang out front,” Carrie said, listening to Michael laugh beside her. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” Michael said, rising up on his elbow. “You’re going
to be great. The gallery is going to be great. And you’re going to make enough money the first six months to buy your sign without even impacting everything else.”
“I’m glad one of us has such faith in me,” Carrie said. “I feel excited about it, but I feel scared too.”
Michael put his hand over her stomach, letting himself dream for a moment of when a child of his would rest there again.
“Anything you create with that fire burning so bright inside you is going to be strong and successful,” he said with no doubt at all. “This is your creativity, Carrie Larson. This is your art. Be a business owner. Operate the best gallery in Kentucky. You have a whole family behind you in this effort. You are not alone.”
Carrie’s eyes got teary at the thought. She felt Michael just laugh and hug her.
“You don’t have to cry over a little moral support,” he teased.
Carrie sniffed. “You have no idea what it’s like to finally have someone in my life who believes in me.”
“Just keep in mind my work needs to get the most attention. We have to pay the mortgage off on the house again,” Michael teased. “No pressure—just make us rich when you can.”
“We’re a family of artists, Michael,” Carrie said, laughing and wiping the last of her tears away. “I doubt we will ever see rich.”
Michael hadn’t missed the big “We” in her statement. It was as good as hearing her say she loved him. “Oh, I don’t know. I feel pretty rich most of the time, and I have all a man could want. I have a great wife and make a living from my art. I don’t know if it gets any better than this.”
“I guess I need to call the realtor and put in my offer,” Carrie said. “Sorry, we got to talking business this morning instead of—you know.”
“Damn right I know,” Michael said sternly, swinging his legs to the floor. “The phones are staying in the kitchen tonight. We are not bringing them to the bedroom.”
Carrie laughed and rolled to her knees. “If I get the gallery, we’ll need to celebrate—conservatively of course. Pizza and beer. We’ll have champagne at the opening. I’m thinking Christmas.”
“Christmas?” Michael said, torn between shock and laughter at her ambition. “That’s two months away, and you haven’t even bought the place yet.”
Carrie just smiled. “Trust me,” she said.
Michael smiled back and nodded, because he absolutely did.
Chapter 10
Shane pulled up to Reesa’s Saturday afternoon and found Zack shooting hoops. The mini-van was parked on the street out of harm’s way. The boy didn’t even stop what he was doing to wave or acknowledge Shane’s arrival.
Shane pulled his bike in behind the min-van and parked. Shucking his jacket and helmet as he walked up, he tossed them on the grass next to the driveway.
“Hey, Zack,” Shane said, getting only a nod in reply. “You pissed—I mean, mad at me about something?”
“No,” Zack said, laughing at the man despite his anger over things he couldn’t change. Shane was direct. Zack liked that about him. It reminded him of his father.
“It’s not you, dude. Not everything is about you. Didn’t they teach you that at head doctor school?”
Zack’s snarky attitude had Shane raising an eyebrow, but he didn’t blast back. The boy was obviously hurting and venting his hurt to him. His training had taught him that meant Zack thought Shane was safe.
“So you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I supposed to just guess?” Shane demanded, snagging the ball, shooting it and missing on purpose. It rebounded, and Zack caught it easily.
“It’s nothing you can change unless you can make me old enough to get a job or rig it so Aunt Teresa wins the lottery,” Zack told him. “Not even the Winged Protector can make my grandparents understand that Chelsea and I don’t want to live with them.”
Shane grabbed the basketball from Zack on a bounce, spun and shot it into the hoop flawlessly. He could execute the moves. He just couldn’t sustain them for long. Many coaches had tried to help him learn to do it. He had the height and the build. He just didn’t have the right motivation.
“Nice, dude. Did you ever play hoops for real?” Zack asked.
“Only for fun,” Shane told him. “I like physical activity, but don’t have the mental focus to play a team sport. It’s hard to keep your head in the game if you keep drifting off to daydream. I tend to stop and walk off in the middle of things. My brother is the sports enthusiast in my family, but he doesn’t play either.”
“Brian does that same daydream thing. He has the moves, but not the interest,” Zack said morosely. “I have the moves and the interest, but that’s not going to help Aunt Teresa come up with more money to take care of us. She won’t let me quit ball practice to work because she’s says the basketball scholarship is more important to my future. She said she’d figure it out, but I say what’s it going to matter if I’m living with my grandparents? Papa Lansing is going to want to call the shots with my hoops if I’m living with him, just like he used to do with Dad.”
Shane grabbed the ball when it rebounded and shot it accurately into the hoop again.
“You’re only a couple years away from being on your own enough to call your own shots,” he said firmly. “Reesa’s probably right about your future. If you have the kind of talent your father had, you owe it to yourself to work toward that. It’s what your father would have wanted, and it will pay off in the long run.”
“Yeah, but what about the short run?” Zack asked, shooting the ball with the full force of his hurt. It bounced off the garage door and he caught it without thought.
“Zack—you’re instinctive. That’s not a gift everyone has. What can I do to help?” Shane asked, leaving as much control as he could in the boy’s hands.
“Pray the universe drops a freaking fortune on our heads,” Zack said angrily. “Even though it’s embarrassing at my age, I can live without a car to drive, but I don’t want to be a whole city away from Sara and Brian. And I don’t want to go to a freaking private school. I don’t understand why they can’t just give money to Aunt Teresa so she can take care of us.”
Shane nodded. “Adults are strange. My brother and I tell our father that growing up sucks.”
“You got that right, but I won’t care once I’m up. I’m just not up enough to do anything to really make a difference right now,” Zack said. “Probably can’t get a job anyway if I can’t even drive. I hate this.”
“Driving is easily fixed. I’ll teach you,” Shane said.
“Seriously?” Zack let the ball bounce and fall. “I took the class and passed. I just never got my license because my parents died. We were supposed to go get it—well anyway, I was going to use Aunt Teresa’s car. Now that’s gone, too—like everything else.”
“What car?” Shane asked, thinking there might be a car in the garage.
“She got rid of it right after she moved in with us. It was just like Aunt Jillian’s, only green. We used to tease her about it matching her eyes,” Zack said. “She’s doing all she can. That’s why I’m not in the house storming around and making it worse. I don’t want to be one more problem for her.”
Shane’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t been nearly as good as this boy at the same age. He had been into cars and girls and hanging out with Joe. He’d been into sneaking beers at some of Michael’s college parties until his brother ran him off. This boy was never going to see that level of youth. It had been taken away from him six months ago.
“You can drive my car to get your license. It’s a good piece of crap and reliable as hell—heck. Sorry. My brother and father are very passionate men. I spent a lot time around them and the swearing just happens,” Shane said.
“Your swearing don’t mean shit to me, dude,” Zack said grinning at Shane’s widening eyes. “Coach broke me of it. He says you can’t swear on the floor and be taken seriously as a professional.”
“He’s got a point. You can’t do it in my line of work either,” S
hane said.
“Your cartoon pictures get offended easily?” Zack teased.
Shane reached out and punched Zack full in the arm just to let the kid know how physical a man he was and that messing with him too much was not a healthy idea.
“I’m going to make you call me Dr. Larson next month,” Shane said, watching Zack rub his arm and laugh. “Then we’ll see who laughs.”
“Ouch—I think you bruised my arm,” Zack said, laughing.
“Better than your head,” Shane told him.
“Lame—dude. Very lame,” Zack told him, liking his grin. “Watch it when you go in, Aunt Teresa is in a weepy a mood. I think it’s getting close to that time of the month if you hear what I’m saying.”
Shane nodded. “I wasn’t nearly as astute about females at your age.”
“Chelsea doesn’t suffer in silence. Neither does Aunt Jillian. Aunt Teresa—well, she just cries. She’s a lot like my girlfriend,” Zack said.
“You have a girlfriend?” Shane asked, not sure why he was surprised.
Zack snorted. “Can’t believe I’m getting grief from a man who looks like he can’t afford clothes and a haircut. Did you not see how the dweeb was dressed? All Aunt Teresa’s boyfriends before you were like that. I can’t believe she even looked twice in your direction.”
Shane looked at his clothes. He loved his jeans with the holes in them. “I shaved. Don’t I get points for that?” He picked up his helmet and jacket where he’d tossed them.
“You might with Aunt Teresa,” Zack said with a shrug. “Still got a ways to go to look—normal.”
Shane punched his arm again, but Zack lessened the impact dodging away.
“One day I’m going to outgrow you,” Zack warned. “My father was even bigger than you.”
Shane grinned, his brown eyes flashing at the boy’s nerve. “Bring it on, Lansing.”
Zack pointed a warning finger at Shane as he watched him heading into the house laughing. Shane might not be able to fix their real problems, but it was nice to have another real guy around, Zack thought
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