by Jan Freed
“Did he hurt you?” Alec asked tightly.
Her head snapped around. “Oh no, nothing like that. It was just...” Don’t make me say this, her eyes implored.
God knew he didn’t want to hear about her experience with another man. But it was obviously tearing her up and, if his instincts were right, filling her with self-doubt.
“Tell me what happened,” he prompted gently.
She studied him for an eternity, then drew a shaky breath. “We had a standing gig at the Cactus Club on Thursdays. A lot of big names got their start there, you know. Anyway, one week a record scout showed up at the club and asked Michael to send a demo tape. He was ecstatic. We all went back to his apartment and celebrated. When everyone left, I stayed.”
Alec didn’t want to hear about the extended celebration.
Biting her lip, she glanced back at Jason. “He started kissing me. Things got serious pretty fast, but he couldn’t...”
He really didn’t want to hear this.
She closed her eyes, tightened her mouth and made a sound of disgust. When she finally met his gaze once more, her own was filled with resignation.
“I was nervous. And clumsy. It was my first time, and I made a horrible awkward mess of the whole thing.”
The bastard had done a real number on her. “Who says you made a mess of it? How much had he had to drink? What other drugs were helping him celebrate that night?”
She vigorously shook her head. “He said I didn’t turn him on, that he’d just felt sorry for me. That I’d looked like I could use some fun.”
Vowing to track down Michael one day, Alec relaxed his fists with an effort. “The guy was saving face, Laura. Besides, the first time is awkward for everyone. The next time was better, right?”
A beat of silence, then she lifted her chin. “He didn’t want me a next time.”
Alec focused on her mouth—the wide sweet mouth he’d kissed, half-mad with lust once before. “Michael was a blind fool,” he said, giving in to the temptation he’d fought for months.
Lowering his head, he established the lightest of contacts, savoring the feel of her lips beneath his. He waited for her protest and found himself drinking her soft sigh, instead.
His fingers cradled her chin, then slid up her cheek into thick hair. Kneading the coarse silk, he resettled his lips. Nibbled and brushed. Nibbled and brushed.
In small trembling increments, she opened her mouth. He slipped his tongue inside with a sense of homecoming. She tasted faintly of salt. Popcorn, he thought, smiling against her lips before he started a slow retreat. Her tongue followed, stroking in sensual circles until his mind emptied of all but the heat swelling his sex.
He strained forward, slanting his mouth for deeper contact. A soft feminine sound escaped her throat. He answered with a low rumble. His fingers followed the curve of her head to the soft skin of her nape. Touch me, he silently begged. Touch me.
The feel of her hands on his shoulders produced a painful ache in his loins. Each heartbeat exploded in his chest as her palms slid slowly down. That’s it, honey. Trust me. He plundered her mouth now, stealing its pleasures with greedy abandon. Her splayed fingers burned through his shirt. Several seconds passed before he realized she pushed, rather than caressed.
Laura broke the kiss with a gasp, looking as dazed as he felt.
“We’ve got to stop,” she said, her voice tight and breathy.
He sought her mouth again. She shoved his chest harder.
“It’s Jason. He’s waking up.”
Alec swung toward the back seat. Jason stirred and lifted unfocused eyes. “Are we home yet, Dad?”
Nothing else could have cooled Alec’s passion so swiftly.
“Yes, son, we’re home.” His voice sounded odd to his own ears. He cleared his throat and waited for his breathing to slow. “Tell Laura good-night, and I’ll get you to bed.”
Jason scrambled upright, more alert each second. His tousled blond hair shimmered like a halo. He raised huge imploring eyes—a Hummel figurine in the flesh.
“Would you put me to bed, Laura? Please?”
* * *
JASON PULLED HER up the stairs, his small hand warm and insistent. Smiling, Laura looked back over her shoulder.
Alec watched her from the foot of the stairs, his gaze brooding and intent. She stumbled. By the time she reached the top, Laura felt as if she’d run a marathon.
Pausing to brace her trembling knees, she felt a tug on her hand.
“You okay, Laura?” Jason’s dark brows formed a worried line.
Somehow she managed a smile. “I just needed to catch my breath. I’m fine now.” But she wasn’t fine.
She’d confessed her most humiliating experience and been absolved of blame. She hadn’t had time to prepare, to consider how she would feel once Alec knocked down the fence. His compassion had produced a yearning for commitment completely at odds with her career plans.
Following Jason to his room, she watched him pull pajamas out of a pine chest of drawers and turn with an expectant expression. She got on her knees and tugged off his sneakers, jeans and shirt. Standing before her in tiny jockey briefs, his slim body covered in goose bumps, he looked small and vulnerable.
Something in her expression must have strummed an answering chord in Jason. As one, they moved forward and clung to each other a long moment. Laura rubbed her cheek against his silky hair.
God, she loved this child.
The emotion was simple and pure compared with what she felt for Alec. And what did he feel for her? Had she imagined the flashes of tenderness, the longing of his spirit, rather than flesh?
By next March, it won’t matter. I’ll be out of both their lives for good.
Laura closed her eyes against the thought and inhaled the scent of baby shampoo, mustard and small boy. A lot could happen between now and then.
“You’re squeezing me,” Jason protested.
Laura released her hold and ruffled his hair. “Sorry ‘bout that. Let’s get you into these pj’s.”
She guided hands, feet and head through appropriate holes, tickled his ribs briefly, then scrambled up.
“I’ll pick out a story while you brush your teeth.”
“Aw, Laura. Do I hafta? I brushed ‘em this morning.”
“‘Fraid so, kiddo. Now scoot.” She patted his bottom out the door and watched him drag toward the bathroom. “And your breath better smell minty fresh when you come back, too,” she warned, hiding a smile at the guilty look he threw over his shoulder.
Five minutes later, Laura snuggled back against the pillows and read Jason the story of Sister Bear’s first day at school. Enchanted with the idea of entering first grade in the fall, he interrupted her a good twenty times to ask questions. At last she closed the book and looked into his drowsy eyes.
“Good night, little guy. I had fun tonight. Thanks so much for asking me.” She kissed him on the tip of his nose, swung her legs to the floor and started to stand.
Jason’s hand crept out and and clutched her wrist. “Don’t go. Read me another story.”
Were all children born knowing how to milk that adorable pleading expression? She sighed. “Your dad’s going to get mad at me for keeping you up so late. Remember, you guys are supposed to play ball tomorrow, so you need your rest.”
“Please?” he begged.
Laura chuckled. “How ‘bout I sing a good-night song, instead?”
When Jason nodded, she brushed back his hair and pulled the covers up under his chin, mimicking some deep subconscious memory of her mother performing these same actions. Although she couldn’t remember her mother singing, Maria had sung Laura to sleep many a night.
How did the housekeeper’s favorite song go? Oh yes, now it was coming back.
The soft gentle notes of a Mexican lullaby poured from Laura’s throat. As usual, the music transported her to another world. She sang of a peasant mother retiring for the night, enjoying one perfect moment after a hard day’s work
. The woman rocked her bebé hermoso to sleep and prayed for a better life for her son.
Laura watched Jason’s eyes drift shut and found herself hoping he, too, would have a happy life. Knowing she would not be a part of it infused her voice with haunting tenderness.
“Ten cuidado y sea feliz, mi bebé hermoso,” she sang to the little boy she loved as her own. When the final notes faded into the quiet whisper of Jason’s regular breathing, Laura sensed another presence in the room.
“That was beautiful,” murmured a deep voice.
She rose and turned. Alec stood leaning against the doorjamb, and his tender expression snatched her breath away. Even as she watched, his features hardened.
“You’re very good with him,” he said. “But I’m afraid he’s beginning to depend on you.”
She raised an index finger to her pursed lips and moved to join him at the door. “Afraid?”
He straightened and followed her into the hall. They walked abreast to the stairs.
“That’s right. He’s already lost one woman he loved. A second time could be devastating.”
Laura paused with her hand on the left balustrade. “I have no intention of abandoning Jason. What makes you think such a thing?”
He slanted her an appraising look. “In eight months you’ll be starting your own agency, beginning a new chapter in your life. Even if you wanted to, you won’t have time to spend with him.”
She raised her chin and started down the stairs, forgetting she’d thought much the same thing earlier.
“I don’t abandon the people I love, Alec, even if it’s convenient for you to think so.”
He took the steps two at a time and caught her shoulder. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you expect other people to be as afraid of committing to a relationship as you are. That way you’re off the hook if something goes wrong. And something will go wrong, Alec, because we humans make mistakes. We lose our tempers, and break promises, and love too much or too little sometimes. We’re not as controlled as you. But at least we’re not frozen.”
As she turned to continue down the steps, a sinewy hand shot past her and gripped the banister. Her momentum pressed her breasts into his steely arm.
He crowded her backward against the railing and clamped his left hand on the banister, padlocking her into an intimate embrace.
“Do I look frozen to you?” Blue eyes burned beneath an awning of thick black lashes.
Laura’s heart beat like a trapped rabbit’s. His big body surrounded hers, yet touched only the tips of her breasts. Heat seared the points of contact.
“You’re f-frozen inside.”
He stepped forward until their bodies merged, compact muscle against yielding flesh. The railing dug into her spine. His erection pressed into her stomach.
“Do I feel frozen to you?”
He felt hot. And hard. And gloriously male. Flames licked across her belly and pulsed at the juncture of her thighs.
She moaned, longing to let the blaze consume them both. But at what cost? Reaching up, she slid her palm down the hot sandpaper of his jaw.
“What do you want from me, Alec?”
He flinched as if she’d slapped his face. Wariness tightened his mouth. He stepped back, unlocking her body from his heated embrace.
“Read our contract again, partner. That’s what I want.”
Shivering at the absence of Alec’s physical and emotional warmth, Laura straightened from the banister and rubbed her arms. She finished walking down the stairs on wobbly legs and stopped at the front door. Unlatching the bolt, she pulled the door open and turned. Alec had remained on the stairs.
“I’ll serve my eight months and leave quietly,” she promised. “But if you try and stop me from seeing Jason in the meantime, contract or not, the deal’s off. And from now on, partner, keep your damn hands to yourself!”
Slipping though the door, she shut it on Alec’s outraged expression.
* * *
FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME since the scene on the stairs, Alec cursed his stupidity. This whole mess was his fault. If he’d just kept his distance from Laura, he wouldn’t be hiding out in his office right now.
He’d managed to avoid everyone until Sharon had retrieved him for the regular Monday staff meeting. The sight of Laura, perched like a bright butterfly on the moth gray sofa, had confirmed his worst fears.
She’d burst from her cocoon with a vengeance.
Her royal blue jacket hugged every feminine curve with the traction of a Porsche. Her shoulder-length hair glinted with coppery highlights. And that frothy excuse for a skirt rose a good three inches above her knees. Six, with her legs crossed.
Scowling, he recalled how those legs had drawn every male eye in the room. Even Jim, the controller, had spent more time ogling Laura than his precious computer runs.
Whirling in his chair, Alec stared out the window and watched a gardener replace spent snapdragons with heat-tolerant marigolds. Ridiculous, this illogical jealousy. He and Laura had no future. No history. He’d never done more than kiss her. But he’d come close. Dangerously close.
The feel of her against the banister had reduced him to an animal—just like his old man.
Alec swallowed the sudden bile of self-loathing. Bracing his feet, he clutched the arms of his chair against what he knew was coming. What he couldn’t stop. Memory swamped him, dark and ugly and choking.
He sat at a card table in the tiny apartment kitchen. A tall pot-bellied man staggered toward a thin woman standing by the stove. Jonathan McDonald grabbed the delicate wrist stirring corned beef and cabbage, and pulled.
“I got me an itch I need scratchin’, woman.”
“Not now, Jonathan, please. Alec’s hungry,” Sarah McDonald protested as he dragged her, spatula in hand, toward the bedroom.
Jonathan twisted her wrist cruelly, smiling at her cry of pain. “Alec’s hungry,” he mimicked in a high falsetto. His narrowed bloodshot eyes pinned Alec against the rickety chair. “How old are you now, boy?”
“E-eleven.” Fear and impotent rage roiled in his stomach. He hated being young. Hated being weak. Hated his old man with a passion too big for his small body.
His father’s unshaven bloated face leered. “Old enough to get hungry for a girl, eh, boy? Maybe it’s time you seen how a man takes care of hunger. Come on in an’ let Pop show you how it’s done.”
“No!” His mama stared at Jonathan in horror as he opened their bedroom door. She threw a pleading look over her shoulder.
“Run outside and play, Alec.”
Jonathan’s grimy fingers fumbled with the buttons of her faded housedress. Alec scraped back his chair and clenched his fists. He wanted to pound Pop till he couldn’t move, couldn’t hurt Mama ever again. Instead, Alec lurched to his feet and ran.
Blinded by tears, he stumbled, heard the clink of empty beer bottles and fumbled for the front doorknob. The smell of corned beef and cabbage hung heavy in the humid air. Gagging, he flung open the door, careered outside and wretched into a scraggly bush.
Long minutes later, he straightened and glanced back toward the cheerless apartment.
He wouldn’t always be small.
Or weak.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM WIPED his shoes on the mat, resnugged his Port of Houston cap, lifted the knocker...and lost his nerve.
He hadn’t called first to make certain Alec was home. He didn’t have a legitimate excuse for arriving unannounced. He wasn’t even sure why he was here.
He’d been driving aimlessly for half an hour and had somehow wound up in Tanglewood. ‘Course, he’d had to hunt mighty hard for the house that matched the address Alec had given him for emergencies. Lowering the knocker, he grimaced.
Sam Parker, you are one pitiful son of a bitch. The last thing this family needs is an old geezer barging in on their dinner.
Turning to leave, he jumped guiltily as the front door rattled open.
“You’re not
Dad,” a little boy declared through the narrow gap between frame and door. His eyes and voice accused with equal indignation.
Sam shifted his feet. “Now that’s a fact. You must be Jason. I take it your dad’s not home?”
The youngster scowled, tripling his resemblance to Alec.
“He’s workin’ late. I heard a car, but it was only you.”
Need any more proof, geezer?
“Uh, well, you tell him that Sam Parker stopped by, but it wasn’t important. I’ll call him in the mor—”
“Jason McDonald! How many times have I told you not to open that door without asking me first?” The gap widened to reveal a petite woman wearing immaculate white slacks and a red knit top. Lively brown eyes contrasted nicely with chin-length silver hair.
Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Jason giggled. The woman cocked her head, reminding Sam of a sleek little squirrel.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m Sam Parker, a...friend, of Alec’s. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.” Real smooth, Parker.
She smiled, a gracious lovely thing to watch.
“Why, Mr. Parker, do come in. I’m Evelyn Polk, Jason’s baby-sitter. Mr. McDonald has mentioned you many times. I’m sure he’d want you to wait. He’ll be home shortly.” Stepping back, she opened the door and tugged Jason out of the way. The hands holding the boy’s shoulders were dainty. And ringless.
Doffing his cap, Sam clenched it with both hands and placed one foot on the marble entry floor. “If you’re sure it won’t put you out...”
“Nonsense,” she assured him. “Jason and I were just about to have a piece of cake. Won’t you join us?”
Sam slid his other foot forward to meet the first and stood inside the foyer. “Now that would be putting you out.”
Shutting the door, Evelyn slanted him a mischievous look. “It’s devil’s food with double-fudge icing.”
He glanced down at Jason.
The boy made a slurping noise and rubbed his belly. “It’s reeeal good.”
Grinning, Sam bobbed his head. “In that case, thanks. I’d love some.”
Evelyn leaned down. “Show our guest into the living room, dear. I’ll be there soon.”