by Nora Roberts
"We'll wait until her mother gets here."
"Thanks. Cody?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you hung around."
He put his arms around her. "Red, sooner or later you're going to figure out that you can't get rid of me."
* * *
Later, when the sun was going down, Cody sat in a chair in her apartment and watched her as she curled up on the couch and slept. She'd exhausted herself. He hadn't known she could. He hadn't, he added as he lit a cigarette and let his own body relax, realized a good many things about her.
The explosion he'd witnessed after her mother's announcement that morning had told him a great deal. It hadn't been just the one incident, the one betrayal, that had made her so wary of relationships. It was her whole life.
How difficult would it be to trust yourself, to trust a man, after living in broken home after broken home? Damn near impossible, the way Cody figured. But she was with him. Maybe she still set up boundaries, but she was with him. That counted for something.
It was going to take time-more than he'd planned on-but he was going to see that she stayed with him.
Rising, he walked over to her and gathered her up in his arms.
"What?" Roused, she blinked her eyes open.
"You're worn out, Red. Let me tuck you in."
"I'm okay." She nuzzled her head in the curve of his shoulder. "I just needed a nap."
"You can finish it in bed." When he laid her down, she curled into almost the same position she'd been in on the couch. Sitting at the foot of the bed, Cody unlaced her shoes.
"I was dreaming," she murmured.
"About what?" He sat her shoes on the floor, then unbuttoned her jeans.
"I don't know exactly. But it was nice." She sighed, hoping she could find her way back to the dream. "Are you seducing me?"
He looked at the long line of her legs and at her narrow hips, which were bare but for a brief triangle of practical cotton. "Not at the moment."
She rubbed her cheek against the pillow, comfortably drowsy. "How come?"
"Mostly because I like seducing you when you're awake." He drew the sheet over her and bent to kiss the top of her head. He would have stepped back, but she reached for his hand.
"I'm awake." Her eyes were still closed, but her lips curved. "Almost."
He sat on the bed again, contenting himself with stroking her hair. "Is that a request?"
"Umm-hmm. I don't want you to go."
Cody pulled off his boots, then slipped into bed to hold her. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her arms curled around him as she settled her body against his. Then she lifted her lips to his. "Will you love me?"
"I do," he murmured, but she was already drifting with the kiss.
The light lowered, softened, glowed gold. She moved to him with the ease and familiarity of a longtime wife. Her fingers grazed him, exciting as the touch of a new lover. They didn't speak again, didn't need to.
Her lips were warm, softened by sleep, as they moved over his. Her taste was more than familiar now, it was a part of him, something he could draw in like his own breath. He lingered there, nibbling, then demanding, teasing, then taking, while she worked her way down the buttons of his shirt.
She wanted to touch him, to feel his strength beneath her hand. It was strange that she felt safe here, in his arms, when she'd never realized she needed safety. Protected, wanted, cared for, desired. He gave her all that, and she'd never had to ask. His heart beat fast and steady. The pulse of it against her was like an echo of her own.
This was what she had dreamed of-not just the pleasure, not only the excitement, but the simple security of being with the man she loved.
Cradling his face in her hands, she tried to show him what she was afraid to tell him.
She was overwhelming. Even though the loving was slow, almost lazy, she took his breath away. There seemed to be no bounds to her generosity. It flowed from her like honey, warm and thick and sweet.
No hurry. No rush. The shadows washed the room until the gold faded to a soft, soft gray. There was no sound but his lover's sigh and the quiet shifting of her body over the sheets. He looked at her as evening fell and the light faded. Her eyes, aroused now, no longer sleepy, were like the shadows-darkening, deepening.
Very slowly, as though some part of him knew he would need to remember this moment on some cold, lonely day, he combed his fingers through her hair until her face was unframed. Then he just looked and looked, while the breath trembled through her parted lips. Slowly, almost painfully, he lowered his head, his eyes on hers, watching, watching, until their lips parted, separated and were drawn back together.
With a small, helpless sound she pulled him closer, almost afraid of what his tenderness was doing to her.
But the demand didn't come, only the gift. There were tears in her eyes now, and an ache in her throat, as the beauty weakened her. She spoke again, but only his name, as the emotions that were flooding her poured out.
Then they were clinging together, as survivors of a storm might cling to one another. It was as if they couldn't touch enough, couldn't take enough. Wrapped tight, mouths seeking, they rolled over the bed. Sheets tangled and were ripped aside. Their tenderness was replaced by a greed that was every bit as devastating.
With their fingers locked, their needs fused, she rose over him, sliding down to take him into her. When he filled her she arched back, crying out. Not helplessly, but triumphantly.
Caught in the last light of day, they swept each other toward dusk and the welcoming night.
Chapter Ten
1 appreciate you going with me."
Cody spared Abra a brief look as he stopped the car in front of the hotel where W. W. Barlow and his new wife were staying. "Don't be stupid."
"No, I mean it." She fiddled nervously with her choker as the valet hurried to open her door. "This is my problem. A family problem." After stepping out on the curb, she took a deep breath and waited for Cody to join her. "But I'd have hated to face this dinner alone."
It continued to surprise him to find these traces of insecurity in her. This same woman who was afraid to share a quiet dinner with her mother had once stepped carelessly between two angry construction workers with fists like cinder blocks. With a shake of his head he pocketed his parking stub, then took her arm to lead her into the lobby.
"You're not alone. Still, there's no reason to go into this believing it's going to be some sort of trial by fire."
"Then how come I can already feel the heat?" she mumbled as they crossed the lobby.
"You're not being interviewed by the State Department, Wilson. You're having dinner with your mother and her new husband."
She couldn't prevent a short laugh. "And I've had tons of experience." She paused again at the entrance to the dining room. "Sorry. No snide remarks, no sarcasm and no pouting."
He cupped her face, amused by the way she had straightened her shoulders and brought up her chin. "All right. But I had planned to pout at least through the appetizers."
She laughed again, and this time she meant it. "You're good for me."
His fingers tightened as he dipped his head to give her a hard, unexpected kiss. "Red, I'm the best for you."
"Good evening." The maitre d' was all smiles. He evidently had a weakness for romance. "A table for two?"
"No." Cody let his hand slip down to take Abra's. "We're joining the Barlows."
"Of course, of course." That seemed to perk him up even more. "They've just been seated. If you'll follow me?"
It was early for dinner, so the restaurant was all but empty. Salmon-colored tablecloths and turquoise napkins were pressed and waiting for the patrons who would trickle in over the next two hours. A miniature fountain shaded by palms rose up in the center. The candles on the tables had yet to be lit, as the sun still filtered through the windows. As the maitre d' had said, the newlyweds were already seated. They were holding hands. Barlow spotted them first and sprang out of
his chair. Abra couldn't be sure, but she thought his smile seemed a bit sheepish.
"Right on time." He grabbed Cody's hand for a quick, hearty shake. "Glad you could make it." He hesitated a moment before turning to Abra. He was wearing an obviously pricey Fioravanti suit, but he still looked like anyone's favorite uncle. "Am I allowed to kiss my new stepdaughter?"
"Of course you are." Trying not to wince at the term, she offered a cheek, but found herself gripped in a huge, hard bear hug. Instinctively at first, then with more feeling than she'd expected, she returned it.
"Always wanted a daughter," he mumbled, making a production of pulling out her chair. "Never expected to get one at my age.''
Not certain what she should do next, Abra leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek. "You look wonderful. Did you enjoy your trip?"
"Yes." Jessie twisted the napkin in her lap. "I'm going to love Dallas as much as Willie does. I hope- we hope-you'll find time to visit us there."
"Always a room for you there." Barlow tugged at his tie, mangling the tidy Windsor knot. "Make it your home whenever you want."
Abra clasped and unclasped her purse. "That's kind of you."
"Not kind." Giving up his tie, Barlow smoothed what was left of his hair. "Family."
"You would like a drink before you order?" The maitre d' hovered, clearly pleased to have one of the wealthiest men in the country at one of his tables.
"Champagne. Dom Perignon '71." Barlow laid a hand on Jessie's. "We're celebrating."
"Very good, sir."
Silence descended immediately, awkwardly. Cody had a quick flash of his own family meals, with everyone talking over everyone else. When Abra's hand found his under the table, he decided to give them all a little help. "I hope you'll be able to come by and check on the project before you go back to Dallas."
"Why, yes, yes. Planned to." Barlow gripped the lifeline gratefully.
Sitting back, Cody began to steer the conversation over easy ground.
Why they're nervous, too, Abra realized as all three of them struggled to hit the right tone, find the right words. Everyone could have walked on eggshells without causing a crack. Only Cody was relaxed, hooking an arm over the back of his chair and taking the reins the others gladly relinquished. Jessie continued to twist her napkin, though she managed the occasional forced smile. Barlow ran his finger under his collar constantly, clearing his throat and reaching out to touch Jessie's hand or arm or shoulder.
Reassuring each other, Abra thought. Because of her. It made her feel small and selfish and mean-spirited. Whatever happened between Barlow and her mother, they cared for each other now. Holding back her approval or acceptance helped nothing and hurt everyone. Including her.
There seemed almost a communal sigh of relief when the wine was served. The fussy little show began with the display of the label. The cork was removed with only a whisper of sound, and a swallow was offered to Barlow for tasting. Once it was approved, wine was poured in all the glasses.
"Well, now." Barlow sent his nervous smile around the table as bubbles raced to the surface.
"I'd like to propose a toast," Cody began.
"No, please." Abra stopped him with a hand on his arm. During the strained silence, Jessie linked fingers with Barlow. "I'd like to." She couldn't think of any clever words. She'd always been better with figures. "To your happiness," she said, wishing she could do better. She touched her glass to her mother's, then to Barlow's. "I hope you'll love my mother as much as I do. I'm glad you found each other."
"Thank you." Jessie sipped, struggled to compose herself, then gave up. "I must go powder my nose. Excuse me a minute."
She hurried off, leaving Barlow grinning and blinking his eyes. "That was nice. Real nice." He took Abra's hand, squeezing tightly. "I'm going to take good care of her, you know. Man doesn't often get a chance to start over at my age. Going to do it right."
Abra rose to move over and rest her cheek against his. "See that you do. I'll be back in a minute."
Barlow watched her take the same route as Jessie. "Guess if I were any prouder I'd bust my seams." He lifted his glass and took a long gulp. "Quite a pair, aren't they?"
"You could say that." He was feeling enormously proud himself.
"Ah, now that we've got a minute… Jessie tells me you and Abra are… close."
Cody lifted a brow. "Going to play papa, WW?"
Embarrassed, Barlow shifted in his chair. "Like I said, I never had a daughter before. Makes a man feel protective. I know Jessie would like to see that girl settled and happy. She thinks Abra's feelings might be serious. If yours aren't-"
"I love her." There. He'd said it out loud, and it felt wonderful. Cody savored it for a moment, finding it as rich and exciting as the wine. He hadn't expected it to feel good, hadn't expected the words to come so easily. As if experimenting, he said it again. "I love her. I want to marry her." The second part came as a surprise to him. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of the future, with her as a part of it. It wasn't that he hadn't thought of them spending their lives together. But marriage, the solidity of it, the absoluteness of it, came as a surprise. He found it a pleasant one.
"Well, well…" Doubly pleased, Barlow lifted his glass again. "Have you asked her?"
"No, I… When the time's right."
With a bray of laughter, Barlow slapped him on the back. "Nothing more foolish than a young man in love. Unless it's an old one. Let me tell you something, boy. You try to plan these things out-right time, right place, right mood-they never get done. Maybe you're not old enough to think about how precious time is, but take it from me, there's nothing worse than looking back and seeing how much you wasted. That girl…my daughter-" he puffed out his chest"-she's a prize. You'd better grab on before she slips away from you. Have another drink." He topped off Cody's glass. "Marriage proposals come easier if you're loose. Had to get damn near drunk to manage both of mine."
With an absent nod, Cody lifted his glass, and wondered.
Abra found Jessie in the ladies' lounge, sitting on an overstuffed white chair and sniffling into a hankie. Abra cast a helpless look around, then sat beside her.
"Did I say something wrong?"
Jessie shook her head and dabbed at her eyes. "No. You said everything right and made me so happy." She sobbed as she turned to throw her arms around Abra's neck. "I was so nervous about tonight, so afraid you'd sit there hating me."
"I've never hated you. I couldn't." Abra felt her own eyes filling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made things so hard on you before."
"No, you didn't. You never have. You've always been the one thing in my life I could count on. I've always asked too much of you. I have," she insisted when Abra shook her head. "I know I've let you down, over and over again, and I regret it. But I can't go back and change it." She drew back, and her smooth cheeks were streaked with tears. "To be honest, I don't know if I would if I had the chance. I've made mistakes, sweetheart, and you've had to pay for them." She dried Abra's cheeks with her damp handkerchief. "I never thought of you first, and you have the right to resent me for that."
Sometimes she had, and sometimes the resentment had edged toward despair. Tonight wasn't the night to think of it. Instead, she smiled. "Do you remember the time, I was about ten or eleven and that boy up the street-Bob Hardy-pushed me off my bike? I came home with my knees all bloody and my shirt torn."
"That little bully." Jessie's pretty mouth thinned. "I wanted to give him a good smack."
The idea of Jessie smacking anyone, even a grubby delinquent, made Abra's smile widen. "You cleaned me all up, kissed all the scrapes and promised me a new shirt. Then you marched right off to Mrs. Hardy."
"I certainly did. When I- How do you know? You were supposed to be in your room."
"I followed you." Delighted with the memory, Abra grinned. "I hid in the bushes outside the door and listened."
Jessie's color was a bit heightened when she meticulously replaced the hankie in her purse. "You heard what I s
aid to her? Everything?"
"And I was amazed." With a laugh, Abra took her mother's hand. "I didn't know you had even heard those kind of words, much less that you could use them so… effectively.''
"She was a fat old witch." Jessie sniffed. "I wasn't going to let her get away with raising a mean, nasty hoy who pushed my little girl around."
"By the time you'd finished with her she was eating out of your hand. That night she brought that mean, nasty boy to the door by his ear and made him apologize. I felt very special."
"I love you just as much now. More, really." Gently she brushed Abra's hair from her temples. "I never k new quite how to deal with a child. It's so much easier for me to talk to a woman."
Because she was beginning to understand, Abra kissed her cheek. "Your mascara's running."
"Oh, no." Jessie took one look in the mirror and shuddered. "What a mess. Willie will take one look and run for cover."
"I doubt that, but you'd better fix it before we miss out on that champagne." Abra settled back comfortably to wait.
"That wasn't so bad." Cody stripped off his tie the moment they stepped into Abra's apartment.
"No, it wasn't." She kicked off her shoes. She felt good, really good. Perhaps her mother's marriage would go the way of her others. Perhaps it wouldn't. But they had crossed a bridge tonight. "In fact, it was nice. Champagne, caviar, more champagne. I could get used to it." When he wandered to the window to look out, she frowned at his back. "You seem a little distracted. Cody?"
"What?" He turned back to stare at her. She was wearing a white sundress sashed at the waist with a vivid green scarf. She never failed to knock him out when she was wearing something slim and feminine. Who was he kidding? She knocked him out when she was wearing dirty overalls.
A little confused by the way he was staring, Abra tried a smile. "I know I was pretty wrapped up in myself this evening, but I did notice how quiet you got. What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing. I've…got some things on my mind, that's all."
"The project? Is there a problem?"
"It's not the project." Hands in his pockets, he crossed over to her. "And I don't know if it's a problem."