She reached up and brushed the side of his face with her left hand, and he had to dig into himself for control as he gazed at the tenderness that shone in her eyes. If they were any place other than a public arena, any place that afforded a modicum of privacy, he would have wrapped her in his arms and betrayed himself.
She gasped when they walked out of the building into the darkness. “Oops! I promised Alexis I’d be home before dark, so she wouldn’t worry.”
“I’ll call them.” He took out his cell phone and dialed Telford’s home phone number.
“Say,” Telford said after greeting him. “We don’t know what happened to Velma. She was due back before dark, and she didn’t answer her cell phone.”
“That’s why I’m calling. She’s with me. We’re in Frederick and headed home. Tell Alexis not to worry.”
“Thanks for letting me know. See you shortly.”
As they walked to their cars, he told her, “Your sister managed to regiment me where everybody else who ever knew me failed.”
“I’d like to know how she did it.”
He checked the tires on the car and opened the driver’s door for her. “Gourmet meals. Along with her ‘you’re-in-the-army-now’ house rules, she taught Henry how to cook, did a lot of it herself and always set a table that made your mouth water just looking at it. And she did it with such grace. She made that house a home.”
She got in the car, rolled down the window and ignited the engine. “So feeding you is the key to getting you to behave.”
He didn’t know what got into him, but he had a desire to see her back down, and he equated it with wickedness. “That depends on the woman and what I want, or need, from her. For some, good food would do it. For another…” He could feel his bottom lip curling into a grin. “Food, gourmet or not, wouldn’t cut it. But if she fired up like lightning every time I put my hands on her…” He let her imagine the rest.
She didn’t take him up on it. “Get into your car, Russ, and let’s go before you find yourself testing your theory.”
“That’s no theory, that’s fact. You tail me. If you have a problem, flash your lights.”
“I ought to pray more,” Velma said to herself as she rushed up the stairs to shower and change in the thirty-three minutes remaining before seven o’clock. “I need that guy. He’s such a sweet man. He may not want to be, but he is. I know he thinks I’m off-the-wall with this diet, but I’m not going to stop until I can buy my clothes in the misses section.” She chose a long-sleeved lavender dress, scoop necked and with a flounced hem, combed her hair down and increased her fire power with a dab of Hermès perfume behind her ears and at her cleavage.
She took her seat at the table with seconds to spare. They joined hands, and as soon as Telford said grace, Tara smiled. “Mummy, Mr. Henry forgot the candles when you were in the honeywell.”
“You mean when I was on my honeymoon.”
“I forgot that word,” Tara said, “but Mr. Henry put whipped cream on my apple pie. I love whipped cream. I love Mr. Henry, too.”
Velma couldn’t help glancing toward Russ, whose face bore a smile not unlike parental indulgence. He loved Tara so much. Surely he would want children of his own to love and care for.
“Did you forget Tel’s breakfast?” Henry asked her.
“No. Thanks for reminding me. It’s in a cool bag in the trunk of Alexis’s car.”
“I’ll get it later,” Russ said, and when she saw the quick, sharp incline of Telford’s eyebrows, she knew that speculation was rife about Russ and her and decided to fuel it.
“Can you ice-skate?” she asked Tara.
“A little bit. My school took us to skate three times. I loved it.”
“Velma skates very well,” Russ added. “I mean, she’s good. At first, I was hard-pressed to keep up with her.”
Telford placed his fork on the edge of his plate, finished chewing his mouthful of food and leaned back in his chair. “You’re telling me, Russ, that you went ice-skating this afternoon?”
“Yeah. We filled up on ice cream, looked around for something else to do, and my gaze caught that red neon sign over the skating arena, so we went skating.”
Henry cleared his throat. “Yer takin’ to laughing like a hyena, now yer ice-skating on a weekday afternoon. Next, somebody’ll tell me you been skydiving. There’s hope for ya yet.”
“Thanks, Henry. Your approval means a lot to me.”
“If I didn’t know you meant that, I’d think you were being sarcastic.”
She looked at Russ for a gauge as to the seriousness of the exchange, saw a smile on his face and relaxed as he said, “Of course I meant it. And if I prove to be a rascal, give yourself the credit for that as well. By the way, I dropped by to see Uncle Fentress today. He was jovial and clear-headed, and we talked for a couple of hours, but I can’t see him lingering indefinitely.”
“Alexis and I are going to see him day after tomorrow, when the pictures are ready. I’m going to call the hospital to find out whether Tara can go with us. Ten minutes with her would brighten his life.”
“What’s the matter with him, Dad?”
“He’s sick. He’s in the same hospital that Russ took you to.”
“Oh. Everybody will be nice to him and give him a teddy bear.”
“Give the old fellah me regards,” Henry said.
Telford nodded. “I will. Takes me back nineteen years every time I visit him. It’s almost like reliving those last days with my father.” He looked at his wife. “You preached to me about the burden of hatred, and you were right. Caring about him gives me a lot of pleasure—hating him was a source of unhappiness.”
Alexis walked with Velma to the kitchen, carrying plates and glasses. “If I had known you planned to spend the afternoon with Russ, I wouldn’t have worried,” she said to Velma. “From the looks of you both, I think you had a good time.”
“We did, and we decided to do it again.” She heard the note of pride in her voice and decided not to care about the message sent to her sister.
However, Alexis interpreted the remark and her sister’s tone when she spoke as evidence of Velma’s deepening involvement with Russ.
“I want you to be happy, hon,” Alexis said, “but for all the time I’ve known Russ, seen him in this house day after day, he remains an enigma to me. Nobody would have made me believe that Russ Harrington would spend a Tuesday afternoon ice-skating. He has always seemed driven to work, to succeed. Something’s going on inside of him, and it’s important. Be aware.”
They joined the others in the den for after-dinner drinks, coffee and sweets, as was the custom in the Harrington family. She sat on the sofa, avoiding the chair she knew Alexis preferred. To her astonishment, Russ sat on the floor beside her, his shoulder rubbing her thigh.
“I’ll be in Baltimore tomorrow,” he said. “I’m going to inspect the house Velma wants, after which I’ll want to look at an apartment for myself.” She thought the silence unusually loud, for there was no response except the glances that Henry, Telford and Alexis exchanged. She had never witnessed such a morose moment in that house.
Finally, Telford said, “If you want to move anything, I’ll be glad to help you.”
Half leaning against her thigh, Russ told him, “What is here belongs here and will remain here. I’ll be here most weekends, and I’d rather not sleep in an empty room.” He looked up at Velma. “Excuse me for a minute.” A minute later, she heard the kitchen door open, and remembered that he said he would get the cool box out of the trunk of Alexis’s car. She had forgotten it.
“Tara,” he called from the hall. She raced to him and immediately, her squeals filled the house.
“Mummy, look what Mr. Russ brought me. Come look.” Along with Telford, Alexis and Henry, she hurried to see the source of Tara’s excitement, a twenty-four inch replica of a grand piano to which was attached a bench and a little black girl with long pigtails. Russ plugged in the electric cord, turned the switch and the lit
tle girl began to play “Songs My Mother Taught Me.”
“I know that. I play that song, Mr. Russ.” She hugged his knees, slapped her hands together and giggled with delight.
“It was in the window of a toy shop,” Russ said. “It looked just like Tara. I couldn’t leave it there.” He hunkered beside her and hugged her. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. I’m going to name her Cookie because Mr. Henry teaches me how to make cookies.”
“Russ, this is so lovely, and she truly likes it.” Alexis blinked back a tear. “The love that my child receives in this house… I…I didn’t know I could be so happy.”
Russ straightened up and walked over to Velma. “May I speak with you privately for a minute?”
She walked with him into the living room. “What is it?”
“Want to ride into Baltimore with me tomorrow? You’ll learn a lot if you’re with me while I inspect the building and fixtures, and you can go with me to look at that apartment. Want to?”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’d love that. And Russ, that was such a sweet thing you did, buying that toy for Tara. It’s the perfect toy for her, but wasn’t it pricey?”
“I didn’t mind that. She’s special to me.”
“You will be a wonderful father,” she said, and could have bitten her tongue. Never give a man the idea that you’re anxious to settle down with him unless you want to get rid of him, her twice-married, thirty-year-old friend, Lydia, preached. And she could see the merit of that advice.
However, Russ apparently didn’t attach any significance to the remark. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to cherishing my children and guiding them to be men and women I can be proud of and who will be proud of what they’ve made of themselves.”
“If they are like you, you can’t ask for more.”
He looked at her for a long time, until she felt as if he was dissecting and analyzing her. When his eyelids fluttered and his eyes took on that dreamy look that never failed to heat her blood, she swallowed hard and tried to break the force that his gaze exerted, sapping her will, making her pliable and hungry for him.
His left hand circled her upper right arm, and she could feel that pull to him, that anticipation of the thrill that always shot through her when he folded her into his arms. As if he knew he had sparked that cord of lightning that shot through her, his eyes darkened with the turbulence of a howling storm, and he sucked in his breath.
Did he pull her to him, or did her body move automatically toward the music that made her soul dance? She only knew that he touched her, and that her lips immediately parted themselves for the entry of his sweet, loving tongue. And then, he was inside of her, dipping, tasting, twirling, mining the gold he found in every crevice of her mouth.
His grip on her tightened, the scent of his male heat attacked her olfactory senses, and every nerve in her body clamored for the friction that would soothe and sate them. Her breathing shortened, and when her nipples began to ache and pain her, she grabbed his left hand and placed it on her right breast.
“Russ. Oh, my Lord,” she moaned as he squeezed and pinched the beaded areola. “Honey, please.”
He had to know that he had taken it as far as it could go, for he put both arms around her and then gently stroked her back.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “we’re going to have to do something about this.”
She rested her head on his chest. “But you don’t want anything to happen between us. You don’t want a relationship with me, but every time we get together like this, you pull me in deeper.”
He kissed her eyes, brushed his lips across her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. “Shhh,” he whispered. “I know, and I’m not foolish. This isn’t a simple thing that either of us can wish away. It explodes when we don’t expect it. I look at you and… Hell, I don’t know. You want a cooling-off period, see how it works?”
No. She didn’t want any such thing, but he would never know it. “That may be a good idea. You don’t put your hands on me, and I won’t put mine on you.”
When he laughed, she imagined the satisfaction she’d get from giving him a good sock. “Let me in on what’s so funny.”
His grin widened. “We are. I give it till the next time we’re alone.”
She stepped back and looked at him. Damned if she liked having her nerves fried every time he touched her and then left to blister. Even plants needed a good rain after a good sun scorching. “What about that famous self-control of yours?” she asked, being careful to keep her tone warm and even.
The lights in his eyes danced a mischievous twinkle, and she realized there wasn’t much chance of getting him into a serious mood.
“I hope I’m not required to use more self-control than I applied a minute ago.” His gaze drifted to her breast, still beaded and tingling with hunger for the feel of his warm mouth. “I guess I’d manage if I had to, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be happy about it.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I told you. I don’t say things that I don’t mean.”
“Then where does that leave me?” she asked him.
“We’re in this together, babe. If you fall, I’ll catch you, and I hope you would do the same for me.” When she raised an eyebrow, he added, “I wouldn’t mind having some help with this control business. You make the prospect of losing it seem like what Sir Edmund Hillary must have felt when he got to the top of Mount Everest.”
She didn’t know why, but something in her—maybe it was the devil—told her to test it. When her tongue pressed the right side of her cheek, she was duly warned, that having been a signal of recklessness for as long as she could remember. Her gaze swept upward from his feet to the hair on his head in a sexy come-on, but when her gaze settled on his face, she knew she had made the wrong move. His face bore as stern an expression as she had ever seen on it.
“I’m sorry, Russ. It’s a wicked streak that I have yet to conquer.”
“Don’t conquer it. Just learn when and when not to let it have sway.”
Her hand caressed his wrist, and oh, how she loved touching him. “Am I forgiven?”
“Nothing to forgive. You have to learn what works with me and what doesn’t, just as I have to get to know you.”
“I’m as transparent as glass,” she said.
“You couldn’t be serious.”
“I was. Say, where did they go? I thought they’d join us in the den after a while.”
He took her hand and walked with her to the den. “None of them would have gone in here as long as we were outside there together. They’re in their rooms for the night.” He winked at her. “So behave yourself. Want a glass of wine?”
“I’d love it.”
He poured each of them a glass of wine, placed it on the table beside his favorite chair. “Sit here?” She did, and he sat on the footstool beside the chair. “What time do you want to leave for Baltimore tomorrow?” he asked her.
“Around nine.”
“Then meet you for breakfast at eight.”
“Oh, I don’t need that much time. Ten minutes is enough for me.”
A frown clouded his face. “It isn’t enough. You need more sustenance than you can get from half a grapefruit and a cup of black coffee. I hate this whole thing.” He drained his glass. “I’d better turn in. What about you?”
“Right,” she said, filling her voice with false gaiety. Whenever the subject of her size or her diet arose, he shifted from sweet to indifferent with the speed of a thoroughbred smelling the finish line.
She leaned over, kissed his forehead and jumped up from the chair. “See you in the morning.”
“You bet,” he said in a listless tone that suggested he might have been miles away.
Maybe he was missing something important. She looked good to him, and when Dolphe behaved like an adolescent over her in that fitted dress, that should have told her something. He fluffed up the pillow on the sofa, stopped in the act of putting the footstoo
l where Alexis kept it, and put his knotted fists on his hips. “What the devil is coming over me? I don’t give a hoot whether these pillows are straight, and I don’t care where this stool sits.” Disgusted with himself and his absentminded acquiescence to rules for which he had no use, he showed his contempt for la politesse by getting a bottle of beer, uncapping it and taking a swig from the bottle as he headed up the stairs.
Just before he reached Telford’s bedroom, the door opened and Telford stepped out into the hall. “I just wanted to thank you for telling Alexis that you’re not moving your things. I’d understand if you did that, but she was more upset at your leaving than I thought.” He dug his toe in the carpet. “She appreciates that you need your own life, but she wants you where she can keep an eye on you…uh, look after you. Don’t laugh now. I’m discovering that she is a nurturer.”
“Hell, man. You always knew that. I did. Tell her she’ll see so much of me that she’ll forget I don’t live here. Eventually, I hope to build a house up the hill. That way, I’ll still be here. And I’ll situate it so that there’s still plenty of private space if Drake decides he wants to do the same.”
“Good. She’ll be happy to hear it.” He ran his hands over the curls at the back of his head. “Russ, can you tell me what the problem is with Velma? Can I help in any way?”
He’d never shared intimacies with Telford or Drake as he suspected they had with each other, and doing it then made him uncomfortable. Yet he realized that their behavior no doubt seemed odd to onlookers.
“I’m having a hard time accepting her shaky self-confidence. She has decided she doesn’t like the way she looks, and she doesn’t believe she’s attractive. With a lot of help from Henry, I suspect, I finally got her to stop wearing those mammy caftans and put on some normal clothes.” He shrugged because he had a sense of defeat. “She looks great in them,” he went on, “but she doesn’t believe it. I like her the way she is. Maybe I’m unfair, but I find vanity about looks tiresome and shallow. Every time something good happens between us, you can bet the topic of diet or size will crop up and dampen the mood. Much as I like her, I know I’m going to get fed up with it.”
After the Loving Page 11