The Book Babes Boxed Set (Texas Ties/Texas Troubles/Texas Together)

by Jean Brashear

  He licked her ear, and she giggled. “You are shameless, and you don’t even care, do you?”

  A lavish swipe of her cheek, then a cold, wet nose nuzzled her throat.

  Laken laughed and shivered. “Stop that, I’m ticklish.” But she didn’t even try to enforce it.

  “Thank you,” she whispered into his furry throat.

  * * *

  Michael watched from the doorway, the girlish giggle one that dug deep into his heart. He had no business being here.

  But he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

  Snippets of his earlier conversation with his mother were sandpaper on his heart. He’d called to wish her a Merry Christmas, but she’d asked him for only one gift: that he not proceed with any plans to contact his brother.

  If Gordon wasn’t alive, then…maybe. But this will not only hurt Ian, but his father, she’d said.

  Why do you care? You left him.

  I don’t know how to explain. We were never a match.

  Then why did you marry him? Have a child with him?

  She’d been silent a long time, so long he’d thought she wasn’t going to answer.

  He’s a good man, she’d replied at last. A truly good man.

  Then why couldn’t you stay with him?

  Another long pause, then a tart answer. Need I remind you that you wouldn’t be here if I had?

  Do you still have feelings for your first husband, is that it?

  Michael…let’s not argue, not tonight of all nights. Then he’d heard what he thought was a sob and felt about an inch high.

  Mom, I’m not trying to hurt you. I just…I don’t understand. It’s only us left. We’re all the family we have, but there could be more. You have another child, and I cannot understand why you’d stay away from him all his life. Or why you think I should. Does he even know you’re alive? Again the resentment stirred. I could have had a brother my whole life instead of—

  Was your life so bad? Your father provided very well for both of us, Michael.

  He had, that was true. In material terms, at least. I don’t know if he ever loved me, Mom.

  He was so proud of you.

  Are we talking about the same man? Neither of you respected my choices. I was supposed to be a hotshot surgeon, remember? Not a guy up to his knees in mud and covered with cat hair and dog puke.

  Michael, must you be so crude?

  This was going nowhere. Mom, I have to go. He couldn’t deal with dredging up the past—

  Except that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to find his mother’s past. Meet the brother he’d wished for his entire childhood.

  Please, his mother had asked. Not…yet. If not for me, for Ian’s sake, and Gordon’s. It’s Christmas. Don’t turn their lives upside down.

  “Ajax!” Laken called out. “No!”

  A streak of golden fur raced his way. Michael glanced down and burst out laughing. The pup was shaking an unopened tampon as though life itself were in the balance. He tried for composure, but it was a struggle. “Drop it,” he commanded.

  The pup glanced up, all glee and mischief. Really? You could almost hear him saying.

  “Drop it,” Michael repeated, with a snap of his fingers.

  It was nearly possible to hear the awww you’re no fun.

  But Ajax dropped it.

  As Michael bent to reach for the puppy’s prize, Ajax lunged.

  “Stay!”

  He was iffy on the Stay command, but at least his attention was broken quickly enough for Michael to scoop up the contraband.

  Ajax yipped indignantly.

  “Sit.”

  The pup plopped his butt on the floor, and Michael quickly followed up. “Stay.” He retrieved a treat while a wriggling Ajax complied, though his every fiber clearly longed to burst into action.

  “Good boy.” Michael fed the pup his training treat, then released him. “Go.”

  Ajax scampered off, nose to the floor for more prizes.

  “I’m trying not to die here,” Laken said.

  He looked up. Realized the contraband was still in his hand. “Um…what do you want me to do with it?”

  “Erase your memory?” She snatched it and hid it behind her back.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s one devil of a shame that you’ve never even kissed me, and you’re seeing something that…” She shuddered and quickly returned to the bathroom. For good measure, she slammed the door shut as she emerged.

  Then she cleared her throat. “So…that happened.”

  He’d never seen her look embarrassed before. “No big.”

  “To you, maybe. You’re not a girl.”

  “I’m not,” he agreed. “But I haven’t proven it, have it?”

  Caution crept over her. “Um…”

  He crooked a finger. “Clearly I need to rectify a serious mistake. You have no way of being certain.”

  “I…uh…I’ll take your word.”

  He only grinned.

  “That is so wrong.”

  “What? That I’m going to kiss you?”

  “Are you?”

  “I am. It’s a serious omission on my part, and probably the only thing that could erase a traumatic memory from my brain. How can that be wrong?”

  “I meant your dimple. It’s killer. Only on one side?”

  “Yeah…” He sighed. “I feel so incomplete.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But maybe a kiss would help with that.”

  Just then, Ajax roared through the door, a paper towel in his mouth.

  Laken started laughing. “We’re doomed.”

  Michael considered that Ajax wouldn’t grab for anything else while his mouth was otherwise occupied and weighed the cost of having to pick up a hundred shreds of paper towel against the chance to kiss Laken.

  No contest. He closed the distance to Laken and hauled her into his arms. Then proceeded to kiss the socks off her.

  She tensed at first, then melted against him. “Maybe we should—”

  He moved to her vulnerable throat, cruised to her ear. “Maybe you should just kiss me back. I’ll clean up his mess later.”

  She wriggled against him, and nothing had felt quite so good in a very long time.

  “I could go for that,” she murmured.

  He dove back into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shimmied her delicious curves against him.

  Everything else receded into the distance, silenced by the voice in his head.

  More.

  * * *

  The phone rang. A glance at the clock. Just after midnight. Who? “Hello?”

  “Merry Christmas, Sylvie. I’m sorry I woke you.” His voice sounded strained.

  “Gabe.” She sat up, gripping the phone tightly. “Are you all right?”

  “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I—” He fell silent for a moment. “I miss you. I’m not too proud to say it.” Then his voice roughened. “Damn it, Sylvie, can you honestly tell me you don’t miss me? Or what we’ve had together?”

  The line hummed between them, the silence pulsating with emotion.

  “Gabe, don’t—” She cleared a throat suddenly filled with tears. The whole night had been agony without him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to erase everything but how much she needed him.

  But it wasn’t fair.

  “Gabe, I’m trying to do the right thing.”

  “Nothing is right, Sylvie, when we’re apart. How can you waste this time together? We don’t know what tomorrow will bring and meanwhile, we’re both miserable.”

  “Gabe, please…” She couldn’t speak for the tears. Visions of her mother as she’d been tonight danced like wraiths in her head.

  “Tell me, Sylvie. Tell me now. Whatever it is, we can deal with it together.”

  Her laugh was shaky and weak. “Some things even you, Gabriel Winthrop, can’t conquer.”

  “How do I know, when you’ve got me battling shadows? How do you know I can’t?” His voice dropped to a so
ft, whisper. “Please, Sylvie. Tell me. My kids are ready to put me on the next plane out of here because I’m lousy company. I don’t know what I’m fighting. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to prevent—” She cut herself off, horrified that she’d said too much.

  “You—” She could practically hear him thinking aloud. “Say that again.”

  She said nothing.

  He uttered a low, muffled curse. “Christ, how could I be so stupid? You’re afraid of winding up like your mother, aren’t you? You’re trying to spare me, goddammit. Aren’t you?” His short bark of laughter was strained and hollow.

  “Sylvie Everett, for a brilliant woman, that is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. You think I’d regret one moment of our time together, even if—” His voice grew fierce. “I swear, I’ve never laid a hand on you in anger but I think I could turn you over my knee right now. What the hell were you thinking?”

  She remained silent, turmoil battling with hope. She’d known he’d be like this, and she couldn’t let him. He didn’t know what he’d be accepting. It was hell.

  He exhaled loudly. “Well, your goose is cooked, Ms. Everett. Now that I know what I’m fighting, I’m giving you warning. You can’t win on this one. You’ve tipped your hand, and I’m ruthless in battle. You still love me, and that’s all that matters.” He paused, gathering breath. “Damn it, Sylvie, this is the most stubborn, noble, utterly witless thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

  “You can’t change my mind. I know what’s fair.”

  “My love, pardon my language, but you don’t know shit.” Gabe seldom resorted to cursing, but he was in rare form tonight. “I’m calling my pilot now. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there by the time you wake.”

  “Gabe, wait—”

  “What?”

  “This doesn’t change anything. I can’t make you go through this. I won’t let you.”

  His tone tender, he probed. “Have you been diagnosed? Is that it? I’m telling you it doesn’t matter. We’ll handle this together.”

  She was silent too long.

  “You don’t know anything new, do you?”

  When she didn’t answer, he prodded. “Do you?”

  “No.”

  Gabe muttered again, then his voice softened. “You’re making decisions for me and you don’t even know if Alzheimer’s is in your future.”

  “But if I do have—”

  “Then we’ll deal with it when the time comes, but I am not giving up one single moment I can have with you.” He blew out a breath. “Thank you, Sylvie.”

  “Thank you?”

  “I just got my Christmas present, the answer to the problem that’s been ruining my life.”

  “Ruining your life is what I’ve been trying to prevent.” She tried to remain resolute, but all she could feel was a mad stirring of hope. She tried once more, for his sake. “Gabe, it isn’t fair. I can’t do that to you. It’s…it’s the worst thing anyone could ever do to someone they love.”

  “Sylvie, would you give back one single moment you had with Margo when she was herself?”

  “No, but—”

  He chuckled, his voice jubilant. “My love, I am going to wake up my children and grandchildren and give them a terrific Christmas present.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Me. Not growling. Or moping.”

  “You don’t mope.” She couldn’t help a tiny laugh. Then she sighed. “Oh, Gabe, I never knew it would be so hard. I still think you’re wrong, but I miss you so much. It’s been like dying without you.”

  “We’ll argue later. Right now, just imagine how good we’re both going to feel in five or six hours.” His voice lowered. “I love you, Sylvie. I always have. We’ll work through this. Keep the bed warm for me. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “I love you, too, but I want to do the right thing.”

  “I know, love. But being apart isn’t it. I’ll count the minutes until I can hold you again. Merry Christmas, love.”

  “Merry Christmas, Gabe.” She put down the phone, and the tears began.

  Chapter Four

  ‡

  New Year’s Eve

  Ava shivered, the chill wind whipping across Lake Travis and slicing beneath her coat. Silvery moonlight washed the cliff where she and Tom nestled together in their own private celebration of the year’s end and the new one beginning.

  “We’re crazy,” he pronounced, pulling her back against his chest, tucking the thick down quilt closer around them. “Sane people are out dancing right now in overheated clubs.”

  She gazed at his sharp profile, the planes and angles of his face thrown into relief by the moonlight. “But it’s a tradition.”

  He smiled down at her. “I’m not sure I can touch that cold champagne bottle one more time. Wonder how it would taste heated up?”

  Ava laughed. “I brought hot coffee in a thermos. It’s in the car.”

  “Ah, I knew there was a reason I married you.”

  She gazed out across the lake. “Are you still glad you did?”

  “Can you doubt it? After all this time?”

  She turned in his arms. “Too much is changing. I don’t think I even understand how much.” She studied him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay with what’s happening with my career?”

  He shrugged it off. “We’ll handle it. We always have.”

  “But—”

  Tom looked down at her. “Is there something I don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just that—”

  “This is what you wanted, Ava. You’ve worked damn hard to get here. Why can’t you enjoy it?”

  “I do. I am. But you know I don’t like leaving you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I have to,” she insisted. “It’s part of the deal.”

  “Only if you make it so.”

  “You don’t understand, Tom. I don’t call the shots now, any more than I did before.”

  “It’s worth giving up control of your life to people who’ve thus far proven themselves remarkably insensitive to your needs?”

  “Are you saying you want me to quit writing?”

  “Why would I ask something like that? I’m not an asshole.”

  Her heart was pounding now. “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m just saying don’t ask for fame and glory and then expect to avoid paying a price, that’s all. There’s always a price.”

  Would the price be them? What they’d had? No. Absolutely not. She’d make sure of it. “Are we fighting about this, Tom?”

  “I don’t know. Are we?”

  She shivered again, this time not from the cold. Emerging from the quilt, she turned to face him. Freezing was unimportant compared to clearing up this misunderstanding. “I didn’t ask to have to travel.”

  “It’s part of the bargain you made.”

  “I never asked for fame and glory. I simply want to be allowed to write the stories of my heart, and it requires a certain level of success to be allowed to do that. Succeeding in publishing is a complicated process.”

  “All success is complicated, don’t you think I know that? Or have I been stuck at the law school too long for you to remember that I was once considered a success myself?”

  “You’re still a success.” Terror sliced deep. “I’ll give it up, Tom, if that’s what you need.”

  He reared back as though she’d struck him. “Good god, Ava, this is me you’re talking to—the man who’s loved you more than half your life. What in the hell makes you take that leap? I’d never ask you to give up what means so much to you.”

  “You mean more.”

  He clasped her hands, then turned her and wrapped her back up. “It’s not a contest. We’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you; you love me. We’ll work it out.”

  Ava tried to quiet the tiny little seed of doubt within her. Of course he loved her, but was she making the
price too high? Was this harder for him than she’d realized?

  He chuckled. “I can feel your head whirling with thoughts. You’re stiff as a board.” Tom pulled her closer. “Stop thinking, babe. This is you and me. We’re indestructible, remember? Lighten up—it’s time to toast the New Year, if I can work up my courage to stick my arm out of this cocoon to grab the champagne.”

  She watched him pour two flutes. She snaked out an arm to grasp hers and turned so she could look into his eyes.

  “To the new year and all its surprises. May your every wish come true, Ava, my love.”

  Please let us be okay. We have to be all right—I’ll make sure of it.

  But she didn’t say it aloud. Lifting her flute, she toasted him back. “To the man of my dreams…may you have more of your own come true this year. I love you, Tom, with all my heart.”

  They clinked their glasses, then each took a sip.

  When Tom leaned over to kiss her, Ava set aside her flute and wrapped both arms around him as if she could seal them inside the magic circle they’d always inhabited as though they were one.

  * * *

  Laken’s date was obscenely good-looking, and he knew it.

  But he was also way too buttoned-up. And pretentious.

  How had she not noticed this when she’d accepted the date—for New Year’s Eve, of all nights, when there was no good excuse for going home early?

  That’s what happens when you run scared, girlfriend.

  She scowled. Oh, shut up.

  Her date paused in his soliloquy. “Something wrong with your food?” He’d made a big deal out of how difficult it was to get reservations here, how he’d had to use all his connections and if the owner hadn’t loved his roommate—a grown man with a roommate, for crissake—like his own child, they’d be denied this superlative dining experience.

  Blah blah blah. What had she been thinking, going out with Mr. Pretentious when she could be with—

  Michael. Kissing again. That’s as far as it had gone, damn it. She hadn’t seen him since Christmas Eve when he’d gotten a late-night call from a patient, just when they were getting started. He’d left her all revved up and—

  “Laken?”

  She yanked her gaze upward. “What?”