Roman had latched onto Elwood’s collar so the dog couldn’t follow her orders. He turned to his mother, who sat next to him on Jan’s couch. “See how I’ve charmed Elwood? Once bitten, now loved.” Mocking a sulk, he said, “The dog’s owner is still on the fence about me.”
Jan rolled her eyes, even while she enjoyed the moment. She was entertaining in her new home. They’d christened her dining room table with grilled steaks, tumblers of zinfandel, and pear and walnut salad drenched in blue cheese dressing. Her guests would have lingered at the table to eat dessert and talk, but Jan wanted to try out her double sofa setting. She’d shooed everyone to the couches while the General helped her deliver coffee, bowls of chocolate chip ice cream, and a tray of liqueur glasses, Baileys, Drambuie, and brandy to her giant coffee table.
Jan sat with Bella, her sister, and the General on one sofa with a clear view of Roman, bookended by his parents, Jay and Patricia, on the other couch.
Bella, resplendent in black lounging pants and a caftan in riotous colors and sequins, let the sofa swallow her tiny body, enjoying the moment. She touched Jan’s arm. “I don’t blame you for taking your time, dear. Roman is still a work in progress.”
When Roman’s parents nodded energetically at Bella’s comment, Jan smiled. Summoning a hurt look, Roman said, “Now wait a minute. Where did family loyalty go?” He scratched behind Elwood’s ears. “Only the dog believes in me.”
As if on cue, Elwood licked his hand.
“See?” Roman said, triumphant.
Jan liked watching the dynamics between Roman and his parents as much as she enjoyed assessing which parent Roman favored. He’d put his arm around his mother’s shoulders as many times as he’d punched his dad’s arm playfully. Roman’s shock of dark, thick brown hair came from Patricia, his square jaw from Jay. Laugh from mom. Habit of tipping his head to think-his dad’s. He’d culled handsomeness from both his parents, but the single dimple on his left cheek, visible only when he smiled broadly, was Roman’s alone.
She cast a glance at her father, wondering what Roman and his parents would find similar in her looks and habits with her father’s. For once, the idea they might share features didn’t offend her. In the last month, she’d come to like the man she’d fought with all her life.
As if he’d read her mind, the General delivered a smile with the tot of Cognac he handed her.
“Here’s a toast to Sidney Keller, who’s knocking on St. Peter’s door even while he criticizes the rules of entry.”
Smiles lit up the faces of the Keller family. Jan gestured her father’s direction with her glass, silently thanking him for the toast. “We’re all set for the memorial, guys. Weather’s warm and clear. Speakers say they’re ready.” She nodded meaningfully Roman’s way. “The restaurant’s cooking up a storm while we sit here, lolling.”
Bella set down her bowl of ice cream, sadness taking charge of her expression. “Sidney would love what you’ve done, Jan.” She pointed at Roman. “Including your speeches, my dear.”
Nodding in Jan’s direction, Roman said, “I’ve learned a lot about Sidney these past days.” He took a breath and asked, “Why did he hide his good side from me, Gran?” Jan heard the vulnerability in his voice; in his unguarded expression she read insecurity.
Lifting her arm, Bella appeared fascinated by the way the light played with the colors of her caftan. As if speaking to the fabric, Bella said, “Sidney knew how proudly you guarded your independence. He didn’t want you to feel obligated to him when he decided to mentor you.”
Roman said, “Obligated?”
Jay cleared his throat. “He forbade us to tell you he paid for your first year at UCLA.”
“What?” Roman twisted in his seat to look his father full in the face. Elwood, startled by the movement, jumped off Roman’s lap.
Shrugging, his eyes on the dog, Jay said, “He insisted you go to the best journalism school in the country. We couldn’t afford it the first year. The second year, my salary went up, you earned scholarships and got a job on campus. By then, we could manage the majority of the cost of sending you there. By year three, we didn’t need Sid’s help anymore.”
“You’re kidding,” Roman said, drilling a look at Bella. “Why couldn’t he tell me?”
Bella leaned forward, her hands nestling her coffee cup. “His goal was the same as yours: objectivity. When he critiqued your work, he wanted you to look at his comments without strings attached. That’s also why he didn’t tell you about the accomplished writers he worked with.” She frowned when she set down her cup. “I argued with him about his tactics, but he was stubborn. Had to do it his way.”
“Dammit,” Roman said. “I wish I’d known. I…it doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?” asked Bella.
“Sidney’s still making me feel like a neophyte, a thankless juvenile. Even from his grave.” When Patricia leaned toward him, ready to protest, he shook his head and rose. Pouring himself a snifter of brandy, Roman walked to the dining area and focused on Jan’s gallery of portraits. He turned on his heel. “I’m embarrassed I never examined Sidney’s life the way I researched the histories of complete strangers. No. Instead, I wrote Sidney off as a pest when he was genuinely trying to help me. Shows you what an ass I am. Sidney was right to critique the snot out of me!”
He looked down for a long moment, as if to find answers in his brandy, then held his glass out to Jan and the General. “I thank you for the dinner, drinks, dessert, coffee, and conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do on Sidney’s eulogy.”
Jan watched Roman stride toward her bedroom. She had the urge to take up her drink and follow him. Console him. Help him. Yet, in a way she was glad he’d been forced to eat humble pie. Roman was wrong about Sidney and Senator Johnson; and he’d sneaked behind her back to dig dirt on Cliff Barker. Let him stew in his mistakes.
Elwood’s whine caught her attention. The dog peered up at Jan, seeming to ask what he should do next. Jan smiled and jerked her thumb Roman’s way, sending Elwood clattering to the bedroom hall. When the dog took a turn too quickly, his toenails useless on the slick floor, he slid sideways. Once he’d righted himself, he dove after Roman.
The dog’s antics made them all laugh and gave Jan the opening she was looking for. “Better check on those two,” she said. “I’ve never left them in a room together before.” She mocked a grimace which got the group laughing again.
“Roman?” she asked, knocking on the half open door. “You okay with the dog in here?”
He stood by his folded table, a wad of papers in his hand and a grim look on his face. At the mention of Elwood, he blinked and searched the room, unaware the dog had joined him. When he saw the Scottie sitting next to his bed, tail wagging, he gave her a thin smile. “He’s fine.”
His voice echoed in the cold, almost empty room. Jan touched his arm, wanting to commiserate, but he shook his head and barely smiled when he said, “Your guests are more deserving of your time than I am, Jan.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“As you just heard, I’ve chosen a lifetime of going it on my own. On this task, I’d better stick with my old way of doing things.”
“Fair enough,” she said, hugging herself so she wouldn’t embrace him. “I’ll tend to our guests while you finish up the eulogy.”
She closed the door slowly and paused a moment in the hallway to survey her transformed living and dining area. Now filled with furniture, lamps, tables, and area rugs, and peopled with chatting guests, these rooms should feel warm and complete. Yet, without Roman’s presence among her guests, both literally and figuratively, the house felt empty.
****
Roman floated on his rubber bed, aware he had too thin a cushion of air between his body and the hardwood floor. He knew he should pump more air into the bloody thing, but he didn’t have the energy or the desire for the task.
What he wanted was to make love to Jazz.
&nbs
p; He’d spent hours digesting e-mails his grandfather had sent him over the years, e-mails he’d kept in a computer file but never read carefully until tonight. Why had he kept them? Did his subconscious somehow understand he’d be ready to read the criticism some day?
After throwing away his old eulogy about Sid, he’d used up another two hours drafting a new speech.
While he worked, he’d heard his parents and Bella leave, followed closely by sounds of the General and Jan cleaning up. Later Elwood begged to get out of Roman’s bedroom. When he’d freed the dog, he heard the General say Frank was parked outside, ready to take him home. Roman strained to hear Frank’s voice, but the silence following Jan’s goodbye to her father meant Frank hadn’t come in the house. Good.
But he lacked the nerve to go talk to her after throwing her out of his bedroom, too embarrassed about his poor judgment to let her help him. Maybe by morning, he’d be able to look her in the eye and explain his boorish behavior.
He guessed she might like what he’d drafted for Sidney’s eulogy, but he still had a few hours of fine-tuning to do when he was fresh in the morning.
If he could get some sleep.
He turned over in his bed, his hipbone cracking against the floor. “Ouch.”
Throwing off the cover of his sleeping bag, he pushed himself to his knees, ground them into the floor and got up.
Maybe he’d read the eulogy one more time and pump up his bed.
After some ice water.
He slipped on jeans and walked to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, he pushed the ice release by hand, hoping to make the least noise possible. Nothing came out of the ice chute. He pushed harder with his finger, his hand cradled for catching.
Nothing.
He pushed again.
The crystals tumbled out, crashing to the floor.
“Shit.”
Elwood tore into the kitchen, barking.
“Double shit.”
“No worries, Elly. I’ve got things under control.” He bent over to pick up the ice shards, a process made slower because he was trying not to make noise. He lowered handfuls of ice gently into the sink while the dog went to work licking up water from the floor.
“Roman?”
She stood in the hallway, one hand propped against the wall while the other shaded her eyes from the kitchen light.
Here she was, warm and fresh from slumber. He had to touch her, hold her. The urge to feel fully a man delivered him to her side before he could think through his actions. Hurriedly, he wiped his wet hands on his jeans and gathered her into his arms. He held her, conscious he was giving her time to wake up as well as to shake off how his noises had startled her.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was getting ice water when the ice got stuck. And unstuck.”
When he felt a nod against his chest and her arms tighten around his waist, he leaned in to rub her shoulders, savoring the feel of her breasts against his chest and wondering what she had on under the robe.
As they began to breathe in unison, Elwood grumbled and trotted away.
Was she sleepy or aroused? His brain had no clue, but his dick urged the latter.
“Are you still working, Roman? On the eulogy?” she said to his neck.
He peered at her face, trying to figure out her mood and his next move. “I’ve got a new draft going.”
“Good.” She gazed at him drowsily, her brown eyes almost black in the dim light. Bedroom eyes. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, probably to reinforce her compliment then shifted in the direction of her bedroom.
I can’t let her get away from me. Not this time.
“I better escort you, Jazz. You seem a little shaky…from the noise of my avalanche, I mean.”
She gave him the eyebrow, but let him walk her to the bedroom, his arm snugged around her waist. They came to a stop at the bed, where Roman eyed the cast-aside duvet and sheets. Inviting. Room enough for two.
Was she thinking the same thing? She’d gone quiet beside him, making him wonder. Jan knew how her quiescence turned him on. But she was angry at him, upset with any number of intrusions and violations of privacy he’d committed. He was afraid to look at her face and see irritation instead of need.
Shit. How much longer could he stand next to her with the hard-on of the century, afraid to look at her? “I’ve been researching Syncope,” he blurted.
He felt her turn to look at him.
“You are full of surprises, Roman.” She leaned forward and pushed a pillow against the headboard, then crawled in and reclined against it, knees up, arms clasped around them. “Sit down and tell me what you’ve learned.”
Her action surprised him so much he stopped breathing and stared at her. God, she was beautiful sitting there waiting for him to speak, smiling, open-faced and eager. A dazzling, sexy blonde. He sat as close to her as he could and grasped her ankle for an anchor, a connection, however fragile. The hem of her robe came to her knees, leaving her legs exposed to him. At the thought of moving the robe aside so he could touch the silky skin beneath it, his heart pounded so hard he could feel the vibration in his ears. “Jazz,” he said quietly as he moved his hand up her calf.
“Yes,” she said, only a hint of a question in her voice, eyes widening at his touch.
“When you don’t move, I get to look at you. You are beautiful, Jazz.”
She nodded at the compliment. “But not perfect because of Syncope, which is why you’re zeroing in on it.”
“No, I looked into the disease so I could understand you better.” He encircled both her calves and leaned to place his chin on her knees. “Scrutiny isn’t always a negative act.”
She shrugged but he caught a hint of a smile. “I agree. So you have questions for me about Syncope?”
“One. What happens when you faint? During the faint?”
She exhaled and gazed at him as if to assess his integrity. The sadness in her expression worried him so much that he went to her side, gently moved her over and gathered her in his arms. “Hey, Jazz. I don’t mean to cause you pain.”
With a head shake and a deep-drawn breath, she seemed to tame her emotions. Roman held her tight, stroking her back while he waited, breathing in her perfume and thinking about how important it had become for him to make her happy.
“I’m out for only a couple of minutes, as you know.”
He nodded.
“But I’m not really ‘out.’”
“Oh?”
“I have a lot going on in my dreams for such a little time span. It’s like fast-forward on the DVD. Whole stories with sound and color sometimes. The last two faints, I heard children crying, what felt like an hour of children crying.”
“That’s awful.”
“I often hear people talking, even if I can’t make out the words. Oddly enough, usually there are more people talking in my dream than there are in the place I’ve fainted, if people are around when it happens, that is.”
Roman tugged her closer until they were chest to chest and she straddled him.
“The time I collapsed in front of you?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
She gazed at him intently. “You kept talking to me.”
Roman hitched a shoulder. “I was nervous. I didn’t know what to do, and touching you seemed wrong, but I had to find out if you were breathing, so I…”
She put a finger to his lips. “You were kind to me, Roman. But more important, you talked.” She pulled a worried look. “If people don’t talk, I think I’ve died.”
****
“Oh, Jazz,” he said, sorrow thickening his words.
She buried her face in his neck, her emotions too raw to face the empathy in his green eyes. I will not cry over this, dammit. She’d never told anyone about the content of her faint dreams and now Roman had pulled yet another secret out of her. God, he was smooth. And God, she was confused. The feel of his hand caressing her calves had her tingling with desire.
“When I faint, I’d rather dream of you, Ro
man. And where your hands are right now. And where they might drift, if I’m lucky.”
Roman laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said, then trailed his hands from her calves to the inside of her thighs.
At the lust she saw swimming in his emerald eyes, her center took up a steady pulse. “Go higher,” she wanted to growl. “Please,” she was willing to beg. Here she was, astride him, her body just above his. All she had to do was lower herself to his jeans, rub against him and get the relief she needed. Deserved. Must have.
When she felt her legs begin to vibrate with the tension of not growling and not begging and not lowering herself down to his jeans, a wave of embarrassment hit her. Six months without sex was what this was. Hell, the guy knew everything about her; why hide how he turned her on?
Her skin touched denim.
Roman sucked in air at her move. “Jazz?”
“I want you, Roman.”
“You sure?”
She smiled at the hope in his voice. Or was he begging, too? Even before she answered, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her. She hissed a “Yes,” exultant to see him breathing hard, barely able to control his fingers at the new task of opening her robe. She leaned over so he could push the robe off her shoulders and stayed in that position while he stroked her breasts. Raising herself a bit, she got busy with his jeans, releasing the button.
“Jazz,” he groaned before he grabbed her hands. “Let me…”
“I’ll help,” she said, sliding her fingers down the sides of his jeans while she watched his eyes, enjoying how the green deepened and his jaw tightened as her hands worked their way to the zipper.
“Jazz,” he repeated before he kissed her. She smiled inside the kiss, pleased when her fingers found the treasure they sought. She returned the kiss, matching his intensity, a slow grind of lips against lips, exploring, teasing, nipping. He murmured about protection and she answered, “I’m good,” then allowed him to roll her so they were side to side and he could remove his jeans. She liked that he was awkward with the task, too turned on to get the damn things off efficiently. While he twisted and turned and swore under his breath, she laughed. Roman might be a smooth talker, but he matched her awkward eagerness at sex. Good.
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