Sweet Victory (Fighting for Love)

by Gina L. Maxwell

  Leaning in, he descended on her neck, taking his fill and reveling in the feel of her nails scraping his scalp as she held him to her. Like he was going anywhere before satisfying them both to the point of exhaustion. She’d have to pry him off with a crowbar.

  Xander pulled the skinny straps down her shoulders then adjusted them until they were tight around her upper arms, trapping them at her sides.

  “As far as bondage goes,” she said, “it’s not very effective.” She demonstrated by bringing her hands up to rake her nails down his chest.

  Fuck! She’s making me crazy. “Don’t ever challenge me when it comes to that. If I wanted, I could truss you up faster than you could make an argument against it. I don’t want to prevent you from using your hands. Only to limit their reach.”

  “Why— Oh God.”

  He’d yanked the cotton of her shirt down and taken her right nipple in his mouth, effectively cutting off her train of thought. Unable to help himself, he smiled against her supple flesh, tonguing the tight little bud. Then he showered the same attention to its twin.

  After he had them both cherry red and swollen, he found the bowl of pink frosting and set it next to her on the counter. He gathered a healthy dollop of the stuff on his finger and held it between them. “My turn to frost my dessert.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he painted her nipples. “What’s the point if you won’t eat it?”

  Like she did with him, he inserted his finger into her mouth and practically nutted when she took it deep and sucked hard. Fire licked through his balls and climbed up his spine. His need to have her—not only now, but it seemed every minute of every day—was beyond comprehension. Attempting to keep the strain of holding on to his control out of his voice, he said, “Oh, I definitely plan on devouring every frosted inch of you. I’ve no issues breaking my own rules, as long as the reason is worth it.”

  Xander placed his fingers on her collarbone and gently pushed until she yielded, laying back on the counter with her legs still dangling off the edge. “And you’re more than worth it.” Then he made short work of removing every bit of the confection and showing her just how delicious he thought she was.

  Chapter Eleven

  Walking into the lobby of Golden Acres with Xander by her side, Sophie felt anxious rather than the usual sense of calm that washed over her, but she was doing her best not to let it show. The bright, airy space was empty of any residents; not totally a rare occurrence, but unsettling with her already frayed nerves. The familiar warm greeting of “Cupcake girl!” from the residents would have been soothing.

  What am I doing bringing him here?

  When they entered, a man with dark hair glanced up from where he sat in one of the chairs with a clipboard balanced on his crossed knee, filling out paperwork. Her nerves flared back to life. He looked familiar, like she’d seen him recently, but couldn’t place—

  “Sophie, hi!”

  The exuberant greeting pulled her focus to where Sophie’s favorite nurse stood at the front desk. Oh, thank God. “Morning, Stephanie,” she said with a smile as she placed one of the two boxes they’d brought on the counter. Although she was best known for her cake truffles, the residents here preferred the cupcakes, so she always brought a box of each.

  “What are you doing here two days in a row? Never mind, it doesn’t matter as long as you brought treats,” the young woman said, pulling the box toward her and inhaling the scent of her impending sugar high. “I swear you make these with magic.”

  “I will not confirm or deny. It’s a Caldwell secret.” Sophie tried to smile through her nerves, but it wasn’t easy when her body wanted to purge her breakfast croissant.

  Stephanie narrowed her eyes and bounced her gaze between Sophie and Xander. She might be young, but her power of observation made her a damn good nurse. She immediately recognized when something was off with one of the residents. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Not a thing,” she answered in a guilty rush. She really needed to get better at this hiding shit game. Stephanie looked like she believed her as much as if Sophie had said aliens had abducted her during the night.

  “You are a little bit jumpy, babe. Must be because you didn’t sleep well last night.”

  Xander’s low voice coming from behind her and his strong hands rubbing up and down on her arms both unnerved and settled her. How that was possible she didn’t know, nor did she have the brainpower to analyze it that very moment.

  “Yeah,” she said. “You’re probably right. I’ll take a nap when we get home.”

  Stephanie eyeballed Xander. “Who’s your friend, Sophie?”

  He stepped forward and held his right hand out. “Husband, actually. How do you do? Name’s Xander.”

  Sophie wished she had her camera phone out because Stephanie’s expression was priceless. She gave her what she hoped looked like a woman-in-love smile and said, “Surprise.”

  Xander wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. His warmth, and the strength he emanated, started to ease her little by little. They really hadn’t been anywhere that they had to act like newlyweds in front of people they knew. And they couldn’t tell anyone the truth because if someone from Richard’s side of the case decided to do a little investigating, people needed to believe it was for real.

  “I didn’t want to jinx it by telling anyone about him until I knew he couldn’t get away,” Sophie said.

  “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you, sweetheart. You know that.” Xander kissed her temple with a tenderness that made Sophie’s knees weak and her heart long for what would never be.

  “Congratulations, lady! Get over here for a hug.” Stephanie quickly rounded the counter and embraced Sophie. “I’m so happy for you. I thought you were never going to get over that other jerkface, Jared.”

  The hand at Sophie’s waist flexed, causing her to stifle a gasp when Xander’s fingers pressed into her side.

  “Is Grams up and about, Stephanie?”

  “You bet she is. Up and about and as feisty as always. Go on through, I’ll sign you both in.”

  Sophie thanked her and walked with Xander, waving to a few of the residents as they caught sight of her. Not all of them had Alzheimer’s, and those who didn’t remembered exactly what came along with her visits.

  “It’s the cupcake girl!” one of them shouted. Soon most of the residents in the common room had said hello to her or given her hugs before moving past her to where Stephanie was carefully doling out the cupcakes to avoid an all-out brawl. They’d learned that the hard way years ago on her first visit. There’d been a lot of orderlies called in and several shots of sleepy-time medicine before things were under control.

  “Why don’t you try walking and getting in line like civil human beings,” a firm female voice shouted from the back. “You’re acting no better than a pack of mangy wolves!” Slowly, and with plenty of grumbling, the residents maneuvered themselves into a haphazard line.

  “That’s better,” the woman said.

  “Thanks, Grams,” Stephanie called out.

  Grams. There she was, the same as always. Rocking in her favorite overstuffed armchair by the windows that looked out onto a vast patio and lawn area. Sophie’s stomach did a few flips and she had to take deep breaths through her nose as she crossed the room.

  Never had she felt like this visiting her grandmother. These visits were emotionally taxing, yes, but in the way that a boat might bob up and down in choppy water. Happy to spend time with Grams…then sad for the future that her disease had stolen from them…happy…sad…up…down.

  But these emotions were entirely different and felt more like trying to brave a hurricane on open water. Would Xander like Grams? How would Grams be with Xander? She had no idea how much Grams remembered of her visits. Sometimes she acted like she’d never seen Sophie before. Sometimes the miniature cakes would bring vague memories of her bringing in the treats before. But despite what she’d told Xander last ni
ght, Sophie had never brought anyone with her to visit Grams. Ever.

  She hadn’t even planned on asking him. The idea came to her while she was mixing their last batch of frosting, and though she’d tried to swallow the words down, another part of her wanted to say them more. And that’s what had her completely stumped. Why? It’s not like it mattered if he met her grandmother. He wasn’t really Sophie’s husband other than on paper. Hell, if his career took off, who even knew if he’d be around at all in another few months.

  So then why? Why did she feel she needed to bring Xander today? That was the million-dollar question that had plagued her all night. He’d only been making an excuse for her, but he wasn’t wrong when he told Stephanie that she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She hadn’t. She’d tossed and turned and tried relaxing with yoga, then repeated the whole process several times before finally passing out at five in the morning.

  “Hi, Grams,” she said, pulling a chair over. Grams, who’d been looking contentedly out the large picture window, turned to see Sophie holding another box she’d brought along.

  “Cupcake girl.” Grams’s eyes lit up in her soft, wrinkled face. Sophie bent down to kiss her cheek, which her grandmother always graciously accepted whether she was “Cupcake girl” or a stranger that day. “How are you, dear?”

  “I’m good, Grams. I brought you some truffles. They’re new recipes and I was hoping you’d test them out for me and tell me what you think.”

  “Why don’t you introduce me to your gentleman friend first so we’re not being rude?”

  Sophie shrunk under her grandmother’s gentle scolding expression of pursed lips and pointed stare. With that one look Sophie felt sixteen and in trouble all over again. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back. “Grams, I’d like you to meet…” My friend? My temporary lover? My husband whom I barely know because I’m doing something completely ridiculous that you wouldn’t approve of because I can’t stand the thought of losing our bakery?

  “My name is Alexander James, Mrs. Caldwell,” Xander said, taking Grams’s delicate hand and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Sophie has told me so much about you.”

  Sophie swore her heart whispered a thank-you that he must have heard because he gave her a discreet wink that told her not to worry; he had this. Dear God, what was this man doing to her?

  “Oh, please, call me Marjorie,” Grams said with a pale pink blush rising across her cheeks. “It’s nice to meet a young man who knows how to act like a gentleman. Your accent…where are you from?”

  “England, ma’am.”

  Grams nodded as though he’d confirmed what she’d already suspected, which Sophie knew she hadn’t. She’d learned that a coping mechanism for Grams was to smile and nod, to pretend she knew exactly what was going on and who people were. She often used pet names to address people because she couldn’t remember their real names.

  “And what brings you to America?” Grams continued.

  Sophie tensed and cut Xander a look she hoped he understood that said “don’t tell her you’re a fighter.” Grams had always hated fighting. Whether it was in the streets or as a sanctioned sport. But Xander wasn’t paying attention to Sophie’s attempts at spontaneous telepathy.

  Maybe she was worried for nothing. Who even knew if Grams remembered she hated fighting. It was so hard to know what the disease took from her and what it left her with.

  “I’m here because of Sophie,” he said, glancing at her briefly before turning back to her grandmother. “She was in England on holiday and grabbing a pint at my local pub. My mates and I walked in and I stopped dead in my tracks the moment I saw her.”

  Sophie’s breath caught in her chest as she swung her gaze to the man next to her. Was he…?

  Grams’s hand fluttered up to her heart. Her eyes were rapt on Xander, listening to his story as if it was the most wonderful story she’d ever heard.

  “Her gaze met mine from across the room, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It felt as if something was pulling us together.”

  Oh my God, he is. Tears instantly welled in Sophie’s eyes but she did her best to dash them away. And even as she prayed he wouldn’t continue to put her through this emotional wringer, she silently prayed for him to continue his story.

  “I walked over, asked her if she wanted to dance, and she said…”

  “But there’s no music.” Grams gave Xander a watery smile. “Is that what she said?”

  Xander’s smile was so big and brilliant as he inclined his head. “That she did, Marjorie.”

  Something grabbed hold of Sophie’s heart and squeezed until her chest physically hurt. Emotions jammed her throat, making it hard to push words through. “Grams,” she finally managed. “How did you know that?”

  Grams glanced to her lap, her brows drawn in concentration. Sophie held her breath, unwilling to take the chance even a wisp of air could sweep away the memory tickling her grandmother’s mind. After several torturous moments, Grams raised her head with a knowing twinkle in her eye, and Sophie thought she’d pass out.

  “You must have told me, dear, on another visit. Is that right?”

  Xander reached over and wrestled Sophie’s right hand open to place his against her palm and twine their fingers together. It was when he squeezed in support that she almost lost it. Trying to keep the tears from falling was futile, but she managed not to break down in a fit of hopeless sobs. Instead she pasted the very best smile on her face and said, “Yes, that’s right. I told you the story before.”

  “I knew it,” she said proudly. “But I like the story, so I’d like you to finish, sweetie.”

  Sweetie. Grams had already forgotten his name. Sophie had been stupid to let herself hope that Grams would remember anything, even the story she’d told at least a hundred times. She had to stop hoping for a different reality than what was.

  “My pleasure, Marjorie. Where was I? Oh, right. She said, ‘But there’s no music,’ and I said, ‘Maybe none that my ears can hear, but my heart hears it just fine. Doesn’t yours?’ Then I pulled her into my arms and danced with her right there in the middle of the crowd with no music, and I haven’t let her go since.”

  Grams stared wistfully at Xander and whispered, “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

  “That it was, Marjorie. But even more beautiful is the young woman who stole my heart as soon as I laid eyes on her. She took my breath away and still does.” Xander turned his head and locked gazes with Sophie. “I’ve yet to find her equal, and I don’t believe I ever will.”

  Grams sighed in dramatic satisfaction at the real-life fairy tale Xander had spun from his memory of their conversation weeks earlier. That he’d not only paid attention, but chose to use that as the story to explain him and Sophie, chipped away at that last piece of plaster she’d encased her heart in after her experience with Jared.

  Oh God. She’d just fallen hopelessly in love with her husband.

  …

  Xander was so glad he’d come with Sophie to visit her grandmother. The woman was amazing, Alzheimer’s or no. They’d already been there for two hours chatting and playing a few rounds of Old Maid. Marjorie had a great sense of humor and had more than one male resident panting after her, and she took great joy in putting them off and berating them to put them in their places.

  The beginning of the visit had been hard, especially for Sophie. He got the impression that her visits were typically not as emotional. Even that nice nurse they’d met in the front had kept a concerned eye in their direction for a while.

  Xander knew it crushed Soph when Marjorie had seemed like she’d remember the story of how she met her husband and then didn’t. He’d wanted to scoop her up into his lap and hold her while she cried for as long as it took. But he’d had to settle for insisting she hold his hand. If she needed to let it out later, though, he’d make damn sure he was there for her.

  Things picked up once the taste tasting started. As he’d already known would
happen, Marjorie loved the healthier versions, though “nothing could ever replace the heavenly taste” of Sophie’s regular truffles. Little did the sweet woman know that she was in love with her own recipes.

  “Aha! I win!”

  Marjorie held her arms up in celebration. She was so fun to watch when she won that he and Sophie had been hiding the Old Maid from her, instead only passing it back and forth between themselves.

  “Marjorie, love, I’m so thankful we’re not playing for money because I’m fairly certain you’d have cleaned me out by now.”

  “Well, I’m a very lucky person. I’m Irish, you know, and we’re a very lucky people.”

  “Oh, you’re Irish?” He’d meant it as a statement, but it sounded like a question with his accented cadence that was different than an American’s. Xander mentally cursed at himself, because the unsure look in Marjorie’s eyes wasn’t something he liked putting there.

  “I think so.” She peered over at her granddaughter. “Do you know, honey, am I Irish?”

  “Yes, you are, on your mother’s side,” Sophie answered with a wan smile.

  Marjorie nodded and turned her attention back to him. “Yes, that’s right. On my mother’s side.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you so well, Marjorie. I, too, am Irish on my mum’s side. She’s only half, which makes me only a quarter, but Irish is Irish nonetheless.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she beamed. “And what of your father?”

  Xander felt a twinge of agitation at the mention of his father. They’d never seen eye to eye. The only fighting his father approved of was in the boardroom over contract negotiations. No wonder he preferred Xan’s brother, Max. “He’s as British as they come. Nothing but the finest pedigree for Maximillian James II.”

  Marjorie sat back in her rocking recliner and clasped her hands over her thin waist. She studied him as though measuring his worth or trying to worm her way into his mind. It made him shift in his seat, which wasn’t like him at all. Xander James did not shift or squirm.