Cabin Fever

by Marilyn Pappano

  He stroked inside her, then all the way back out, making her whimper as she clenched his wrist. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to make me . . .” In spite of her plea, though, she wasn’t pulling his hand away, but pressing it harder against her flesh.

  He chuckled. “We’re gonna have to do something about your shyness, darlin’. And making you . . . is kind of the point, isn’t it? Again and again . . .”

  Wearing a smile that was wicked and womanly and not the least bit shy, she turned onto her side, trapping his hand where he couldn’t tease her, then wrapping her fingers around his flesh, stroking every stone-hard, aching inch of it. Sensation flooding through him, he gave himself the feeble order to pull her hand away, but—déjà vu—instead molded his hand to hers and thrust desperately, once, twice, three times, against the incredible friction she created.

  Even though his eyes were squeezed shut, he swore they’d crossed, and his chest was so tight he couldn’t manage more than the slightest of breaths. “Ah, damn . . . sweet damnation, Nolie. . . .”

  “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Make love to me, Chase. Please.”

  He moved to his knees between her thighs, then unrolled a condom into place, clenching his jaw at the tremors rocketing through him. “This isn’t going to last long,” he warned. “It’s been a long time.”

  “I know. For me, too.” She reached for him, and he slid inside her, breaking out in a cold sweat at the need to hold out and the stronger need to make good on his warning. She took the choice from him, shifting her hips, drawing a shuddering groan from him, and smiled that wicked smile again. “That’s why we get to do it again and again.”

  MICAHLYN WAS STANDING ON THE CHAIR SHE’D dragged to the kitchen counter, carefully pouring milk on her cereal, when the ring of the telephone made her jump and milk spilled onto the counter. She looked from the spill to the phone, not sure which to take care of first. When the phone rang again, she set the milk down, jumped to the floor, and skipped across the room.

  “Tough choice,” Gloria murmured from her seat on the opposite counter.

  Sophy snorted. “You would have gone for the phone, too.”

  “Probably. Talking is so much more enjoyable than cleaning, even though the cleaning’s gotta be done.”

  “Usually by someone else,” Sophy retorted. “That’s one thing you and Micahlyn have in common.”

  Gloria looked hurt—for about a second. Then she stuck her tongue out at Sophy.

  Stretching onto her toes, Micahlyn picked up the receiver in midring. “H’llo.”

  “Hi, Mikey, it’s Grandma. What are you doing?”

  “Pourin’ some milk on my cereal so’s I can have breakfast, but I spilled some, so I have to clean it up.”

  “Why isn’t your mother pouring the milk?”

  Micahlyn stretched the cord to the counter, pulled her cereal bowl over, and shoveled a big bite into her mouth, crunching before she answered. “She’s asleep. We all sleeped late ’cause it was late when we got home last night. Guess what? Mama got food poisoning from green pea salad—”

  Sophy turned a chastising look on Gloria, who squirmed guiltily.

  “—and she had to go to the hospital, but she’s all right now. I’m sure glad I don’t eat peas, ’cause they’re icky, and I bet now she won’t never try to make me eat ’em again.”

  “Oh, no, peas aren’t icky. They’re good for you,” Gloria said. Of course, Micahlyn didn’t hear.

  “You said you all sleeped—slept late,” Grandma said. “You mean, both you and your mother?”

  “And Chase. He slept with me last night, and him and Mama are in bed now. I changed clothes all by myself, and brushed my teeth, and now I’m fixin’ my own breakfast, and I’m bein’ real quiet so’s I won’t wake them. And you know what, Grandma? We went to a picnic yesterday, and I met a whole lot of kids, and they’re lots nicer than stinky ol’ Laura back there. And let’s see . . . what else did I want to tell you? Oh, yeah, did you know . . .”

  He slept with me last night, and him and Mama are in bed now. Sophy winced. Too bad Chase had unplugged the upstairs phone last night. All he’d wanted was to let Nolie sleep without any disturbances, but compared to the trouble Micahlyn’s conversation was going to stir, one little phone call wouldn’t have disturbed a soul.

  “Oh, dear,” Gloria murmured, then sighed philosophically. “Well, every relationship needs a little trial by fire, doesn’t it?”

  And Marlene Harper would be Nolie and Chase’s. Sophy hoped they survived.

  THE DISTANT RING OF THE TELEPHONE DIMLY PENETRATED Nolie’s brain, making her open one eye and look at the phone on the night table. When it remained silent, she snuggled deeper into the pillow. The ringing phone must have been on TV, since this one rang loud enough to wake the dead.

  She was about to drift off to sleep again when a warm, hard body moved snugly against her, with emphasis on hard. Chase’s hand slipped around to cup her breast, gently squeezing her tender nipple, and his arousal was hot and solid against her bottom. She couldn’t believe he was ready again, when they’d made love twice in the past few hours. Granted, the first time had practically been over before it started for both of them, though was no less satisfying for that, but the second time . . . She’d never known it could last like that. By the time it had finally ended, they’d both been trembling, slick with sweat, and she’d thought she just might burst into a million pieces if he’d kept her from reaching orgasm one instant longer.

  He hadn’t . . . but she’d burst into a million pieces anyway.

  “I think I heard stirring downstairs,” Chase murmured into her ear. “If we’re quiet and quick, can we do it one more time?”

  Quick was no problem, they’d already proven, but quiet? She wasn’t a screamer, but neither of them would win any awards for quietness. Heavy breathing—theirs. Whimpers—hers. Groans—his. Erotic little sounds. Erotic little turn-ons. She liked knowing she could make him groan in that guttural, sexy, helpless way, liked that she could double his heart rate and his respirations with nothing more than a well-placed caress.

  She liked knowing he could do the same to her.

  He coaxed her to lift her leg, then his arousal probed between her thighs before sliding home. With an alreadysatisfied sigh, she twisted her head for his kiss and arched her back to press her breast harder against his palm. When he slid his hand between her legs, she gave a soft cry. When he rubbed that spot and brought her to orgasm, she would have cried out much louder, but his mouth muffled the sound, just as she muffled his groan.

  Withdrawing from her body, he moved back enough that she could turn over to face him. He brushed her hair from her flushed face, then placed a kiss on her nose. “You are beautiful.”

  For the first time, she didn’t argue with him, in her own mind or out loud, because for the first time, she felt beautiful. No, make that the second. The first time was when he’d compared her to silk, porcelain, and a summer sky. . . .

  A frown brought her brows together. The words sounded oddly familiar, but she was positive no one had ever spoken them to her before. Those were the kind of compliments a woman never forgot, especially a woman who’d never received many such compliments. Especially when they came from a man like Chase.

  He traced his fingertip over the lines in her forehead. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She stretched lazily, raising her arms above her head, then brought one hand down on his arm. “So . . . where are those bruises you were going to show me?”

  “Hmm. Don’t guess she hit me that hard, after all. Though I may have gained a few scratches and teeth marks since we came up here.” He grinned so lasciviously that Nolie blushed from the top of her head all the way down her body.

  Before she could apologize—or demand to see the proof—Micahlyn’s voice bellowed up the stairs. “Mamaaa! We got company! Can I let ’em in?”

  Nolie retrieved her robe from the floor and was about t
o put it on when Chase tugged it away, apparently thinking he’d left her with no choice but to go to the door naked while he watched openly—and with interest. Making a face at him, she sashayed to the closet door, where she grabbed her other robe and shrugged it on. The green satin provided far less camouflage than the heavy terry cloth, but it beat being naked.

  “Ma-maaa!” Micahlyn shouted from the top of the stairs just as Nolie opened the door a few inches.

  “Who’s here, babe?”

  “Danny and his mom. Can I let them in?”

  “Okay. Tell Leanne I’ll be down in just a minute.” Closing the door, she began gathering underwear from the dresser, along with a summer dress from the closet. “I believe this company is for you. I’ll entertain her until you’re ready to face her.”

  Arms full, she went into the bathroom, where she dressed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. A few unruly strands fell over her forehead, making it painfully clear that she’d made little effort with her appearance that morning. Oh, well, Leanne liked her for her personality, not her dazzling beauty, and Chase, poor fool, thought she was beautiful anyway.

  By the time she made it downstairs, Micahlyn had let the Wilsons in and was telling them how she’d dressed herself and fixed her own breakfast. The dressing part wouldn’t have been a difficult guess, since she wore a green-and-white-striped T-shirt with yellow-and-pink polka-dotted shorts.

  “How are you feeling, Nolie?” Leanne asked when Micahlyn finished her recitation.

  “I’m fine.” Better than fine. She felt tingly and satiated and wicked and besotted and about a hundred other things. “Thanks for helping me out last night.”

  “Anytime.” Leanne’s grin turned sly and knowing. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  That blasted blush flared again as Nolie took a seat on the couch. “Oh, no, not at all. I’ve already been up and had a shower and some coffee and—and—”

  “Uh-huh. My brother wouldn’t happen to be here, would he? There was no answer at his house, and I figured that truck out front must be his.” She made a point of looking at the man-sized running shoes on the floor next to the recliner where she sat, then grinned even bigger.

  “I— He—uh—”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Chase came down the stairs, moving gracefully into the room. He was dressed, and he’d combed his hair, and though his feet were bare, otherwise he looked perfectly and innocently presentable, or so Nolie told herself. No one would notice that lazy, satisfied, just-had-great-sex look in his eyes, or catch the warmth in his gaze when it brushed over her, or even think twice about the careless way he touched her shoulder on his way to the other end of the sofa.

  But Leanne wasn’t no one. Despite their long separation, she probably knew him better than anyone around. Judging from her own satisfied look, she noticed everything.

  “Why aren’t you in church?” Chase asked after he sat down with his shoes and began putting them on. “You raising my nephew to be a heathen?”

  “Like uncle, like nephew.” Leanne made a face at him. “We go to church most of the time . . . well, unless we have a good reason not to, don’t we, Danny?”

  He looked up from the storybook Chase had read to Micahlyn the night before. “Uh-huh. But sometimes we go have breakfast at Harry’s, an’ then play in the square instead.”

  “That’s your definition of a good reason?” Chase asked his sister dryly.

  She shrugged. “This morning we definitely had a good reason to skip. It’s not every day that a woman’s brother comes back after disappearing for all those years. I told you last night, my questions would wait a while, but I’m all out of patience. I want to know everything, starting with when you’re going over to see Mom and Dad.”

  He glanced at Nolie, as if making sure she was still there, then replied, “I don’t know that I am.”

  “Oh, Chase—”

  “Oh, Leanne—” He copied her tone, sounding as pesty as anyone Nolie had heard. Last night it had been kind of hard to imagine him as anyone’s brother. His mimicry and resulting grin made it easier this morning.

  “They’re your parents.”

  “No, they’re your parents. For me they’re just the people who provided a place to live until I could support myself. They didn’t help with a dime of my college expenses, they refused to come to my graduation from college or law school, they refused to attend my wedding or to even meet my wife. Dad lived for the day I would be out of his house and his life, and Mom never cared either way.”

  Nolie wished desperately that Leanne would disagree— that she could point out times when their parents had treated Chase the way they’d treated her. But Leanne didn’t dispute his recall, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she did. He’d felt unwanted and unloved, and that was all that mattered.

  “Mama, can I show Danny my room?” Micahlyn asked.

  “Sure, babe.”

  Chattering about all her toys, Micahlyn led the way upstairs. Once they were gone, Leanne sighed. “Okay. I really can’t blame you. I try to avoid Mom as much as I can these days, and the two of them together . . .” Grimly, she shook her head.

  “I’m surprised they still are together,” Chase remarked dryly. “I can’t remember them ever being happy.”

  “Me, either. Speaking of still being together . . .” Leanne’s gaze flickered from Chase to Nolie, then back again. “What happened with you and your marriage?”

  “The marriage was fine. The divorce was hell.”

  “What happened?”

  Nolie stood up, intending to slip off into the kitchen. She wanted to know the details of his divorce, but not like this, not because she was sitting in on what should be a private reunion with his sister. Besides, she knew both from him and Raine that Fiona wasn’t a nice person, but he’d loved her anyway. His mistake, he’d called it. She couldn’t help but wonder, though. . . . How bad did a not-nice woman have to get, to lose her husband’s love?

  “I—I’ll fix us something to drink,” she said as she moved behind the couch.

  Chase caught her hand, though, and refused to let go. “You’ve had more questions than anyone I know, and now all you can think about is playing the perfect hostess?”

  Blushing, she lowered her gaze. “You and Leanne should be alone. This conversation—your parents, your marriage—is personal.”

  His thumb rubbed lazily over the pulse in her wrist, sending a languid heat through her veins. “Honey, it doesn’t get anymore personal than you and me. If you’re uncomfortable, you can go hide in the kitchen, but . . . I wish you’d stay.”

  Oh, sheesh, all but telling his sister they were lovers, touching her like that, looking at her like that—it would take a stronger woman than Nolie to walk away now. She returned to the couch and was about to sit at the end when he gestured for her to move closer. She sat beside him, and he laced his fingers through hers.

  “My ex’s name is Fiona,” he said. “I invited you guys to the wedding. No one came. I called Mom a half-dozen times afterward, trying to arrange a trip to Bethlehem to introduce her to all of you, but according to Mom, there never was a good time. We were married six years ago, and she divorced me three years ago when the man she was having an affair with—one of the lawyers I worked with, by the way—agreed to marry her. Next question?”

  His tone was even, pretty much emotionless, as if this were ancient history that meant nothing to him, but Nolie knew better. Fiona had broken his heart, but a person could never guess it listening to him now.

  Unless . . . the broken heart had healed and the devastation really was ancient history. Unless someone had replaced Fiona in his heart. Someone like . . . oh, gee, maybe her?

  The arrogance of her assumption made Nolie suppress a smile. Not long ago she’d wished to be bold, daring, and confident. Maybe some wishes did come true.

  “Why aren’t you practicing law?” Leanne asked.

  “Don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  �
�Maybe I decided to live down to the old man’s expectations and amount to nothing.”

  Leanne scoffed. “You were a hotshot lawyer making tons of money. You’re way past amounting to nothing.” Abruptly she went on to her next question. “Why didn’t you ever call me?”

  His fingers tightened fractionally around Nolie’s. “If our parents wouldn’t pass on your invitation to the wedding, what makes you think they would have let me talk to you on the phone?”

  “I’m in the phone book. I have been for years.”

  Again his fingers tightened, then relaxed when he blew out an impatient breath. “When you didn’t come to the wedding, I was pissed. As far as I was concerned, from then on I didn’t have a family.” He tensed at her flinch, then turned the question back on her. “Why didn’t you call me? I was in the phone book, too, at least, for a while.”

  “For a long time I was swamped with trying to get the shop up and running, and then I got pregnant and Danny’s dad ran out on me, and things were getting worse with Mom. . . . There’s nothing like having a baby to make you realize how important family is, and I was pretty much estranged from two-thirds of mine. Nothing I did could fix things with Mom, but you were always so much more reasonable.” She smiled dimly. “I called the last number I had for you, but it belonged to some fifteen-year-old kid. I called the firm where you’d worked and all they would tell me was that you were no longer with them. I sent letters to the firm asking them to forward them, and every one of them came back unopened. I called the state bar in Massachusetts to find out where you were practicing, and they didn’t have a clue.”

  For a moment silence settled over the room, heavy and stiff. Then Leanne’s stomach growled loudly, easing the tension. “Let’s go into town and get some lunch,” she suggested. “If we hurry, we can get to Harry’s or McCauley’s Steakhouse before all the church people show up.”