Leading Her Home (Lessons From Nick's Firm Hand Book 2)

by Ashlynn Kenzie

  "I keep looking for the right time; the right way. But how do you tell your daughter something like that? I doubt she would believe me; she's still determined I was screwing around with Sara's best friend because of some stupid picture somebody sent on the Internet. Sara told her it wasn't true, and she didn't believe her, so why would she believe me? And if she did, how would it help her to know her mother had—well, made some mistakes in the past? Or do you think it would make her happy to know I'm not her biological father?"

  "I love the way Andee's mind works, but I can't read it. At least not perfectly. I don't know what finding out the truth might mean for her. It's just a gut feeling that she ought to know, especially now that I do. But for right now, I'll leave that up to you. I hope you'll think about telling her, though."

  Carlisle snorted. "You think I haven't been thinking about it for years? I've gone around in enough circles to tie myself up in a thousand hopeless knots."

  They came to a main thoroughfare and turned, wordlessly, to head back to Andee's apartment. Halfway there, the silence got to Nick.

  "You know, you remind me so much of someone. Every time I think I have it, it slips away from me. But I think I've narrowed it down to sometime way in the past, at least. Were you in the Coast Guard?"

  Richmond laughed. "No, I'm Air Force, buddy. Mechanic. Thought I'd make my living that way, but my dad had other plans for me, and he turned out to be right. Real estate's my niche, and it's been good for me."

  "Hmmm. I'm stumped then. Unless it was college. Did you go to Vanderbilt?"

  He hesitated a moment. "Not me. I was Purdue. Class of '85. My brother was at Vandy though."

  "Gawds. Brant Carlisle. Of course. Were you two twins? I can still see him in you. I can't believe it didn't register immediately. We were fraternity brothers. Roomed next door to each other when we were freshmen. I was in his wedding when he married Marci Cannon. We sort of lost touch after that, though. Are they still together?"

  "No. It didn't last all that long. Three years, I think. I missed the wedding. I was overseas at the time. Marci remarried and has a couple of kids. She lives in a Chicago suburb. At least she did the last I heard. We all grew up together, but our parents are all dead, and it's hard to keep up now without that connection."

  "So, how's Brant? What's he doing?"

  "Brant-Brant wasn't my twin. But he might as well have been. He was just ten months older, and we were very close. He was killed in a car wreck several years ago. Not too long after he and Marci separated."

  "I'm sorry. I had no idea. He was a good friend, one of those you think you'll always be close to. I'm not sure how we drifted away from each other, except I went in the service right after college and it just sort of throws you into a different world. There was none of this Facebook stuff back then, you know. Of course, I'm one of those dinosaurs who's not into that now, so I don't suppose that would have made a difference."

  "Maybe not. Things change. People change. It's hard. Well, here we are, back home again. I guess I'll tell Andee good night. I'd like to take the two of you out tomorrow night if she agrees and you don't have other plans."

  "I would enjoy that, but you'll need to clear it with Andee."

  She was curled up in the corner of the futon when they opened the door, and the look she gave Nick told him she suspected him of collusion with the enemy. He smiled at her. Her nostrils flared and she turned back to the Kindle in her lap.

  "Andee, it's been a wonderful night. I'd like to have another one. I mentioned dinner to Nick, my treat this time, tomorrow night. He said I needed to discuss it with you. I hope you'll be able to go."

  "Thank you," she said. "But I don't think so."

  "I see."

  Nick didn't have to look at his future father-in-law to envision the absolute death of hope.

  "Well, in that case…" Carlisle stood uncertainly for a moment, "I'll be in town until Friday. If you have some free time—" His voice trailed off.

  "Andee," her fiancé said, and the tone alerted her to his displeasure, but she kept her head buried in her reading. "Andee, your father made a pretty big effort to come to see you, even knowing you were unlikely to welcome him."

  "Right," she sneered. "So he's been telling you what a selfish bi—brat he has for a daughter, has he. Just what I expected."

  "As a matter of fact, he's had nothing but good things to say about you. And your mother."

  "You talked about my mother?" she demanded, scrambling off the futon and coming to stand before her father. "What the hell did you tell him? You don't deserve the privilege of even speaking her name. How dare you."

  "Andee, I—"

  "Get out. Get out of my house and don't you ever come back. You weren't there when Mom and I needed you, and I don't need you now. I'm sorry I ever took your money to go to college. I'll pay it all back if it takes the rest of my life. Just do me the favor of disappearing for good this time."

  Nick stepped forward to take her arm. "Andee, listen to me. I don't care what you think you know about your father, you don't have the right to speak to him this way."

  She jerked away. "So he convinced you what he saint he was, huh? Well, I know better. I know what he did. He broke my mother's heart. I know the truth, because I was there, night after night." She whirled away from them both and ran to kneel at the small cabinet that served as her bedside table, jerking the door open. She scrambled inside and emerged with a tarnished silver picture frame. Back on her feet, she advanced on Richmond Carlisle. "She slept with this every night, and I saw her, when she thought she was alone, looking at it. I saw her crying and running her fingers over your face. The face in this picture. I heard her whispering how much she loved you, how much she missed you, how she couldn't go on without you while she hugged the picture. I know the truth."

  She thrust the photo toward Richmond Carlisle, who reached for it automatically and then dropped his hands and backed away with a muffled moan.

  Nick caught the picture in mid-air and glanced at it briefly. The face of a handsome, laughing young man stared back at him. The face Sara Carlisle had fallen in love with and never stopped mourning.

  Brant Carlisle. Andee's father.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christmas came and went, with Richmond Carlisle mailing gifts from London.

  It was another holiday without him, just like Thanksgiving, which came only days after the revelation that had shaken Andee's world.

  She could not fault him, though. The choice had been hers.

  Richmond had left California the morning after he told Andee the truth about her family. It had been a heartbreaking revelation, and yet, if she were honest, she had to admit she had always felt there was some secret her mother was keeping from her.

  Richmond's every reference to his wife was gentle, respectful and full of compassion. He acknowledged his own fault in handling the situation and begged Andee's forgiveness. He even seemed to understand that she was incapable of a response as she tried to absorb the information he provided and sort through the implications.

  "You may have questions—later," he said that night. "I'll tell you what I can, as honestly as I can. But, Andee, I want you to understand something. You have always been my beautiful daughter, the most important thing in my life. I've done a pitiful job of showing you that, but—well, after a time, when I knew there was no hope that your mother and I could create the family we had both hoped for, I did what I told myself she wanted. I left her as free to live her own life as I could. That meant leaving you as well. And I know now what a terrible mistake that was. I can never make it up to you. I can only tell you that I will do everything in my power to make things right with you, but I won't force myself on you. It's so clear you have something very special going on with Nick. I know you will take care of each other. So, I think the best thing I can do for you now is to give you some freedom to decide if you can forgive me and whether or not you can have me as part of your life. When you've made that decision, I'll do
my best to abide by it, no matter what it is. I will come in a heartbeat if you tell me you want to see me, or I will keep my distance if that is what you want. But I will never stop loving you, Andee, and, in my heart, you will always be my daughter."

  He had stood awkwardly, then, at her tiny kitchen table, where he had just finished laying out the heartbreaking details he had hoped never to have to tell her.

  Andee remembered her response. It had seemed as though she were watching some other robot-like woman, listening to some other flat-toned voice. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I-I need to think. There's so much…"

  "I understand," he said.

  She stared at her hands, clasping each other on the tabletop as though the effort would help hold the pieces of her heart and mind and soul together. She could not find any more words. She longed for Nick's arms.

  After a moment, Richmond cleared his throat and extended a hand to Andee's fiancé. "I know you love her. That's the only reason I can leave again. I hope—I hope…" But he could not finish the thought past the choking tears. And she could not offer him any hope for the future.

  Finally, he had simply nodded to Nick, turned, and walked quietly to her door and out of her life again. She could not have said if she was relieved or devastated.

  She had written to him once, thanking him for all he had done for her, in a general way, because she found she simply could not stop crying enough to type the words when she let her memory roam free and tried to list the things she had received from him. Things worth money; things money could never buy.

  It was as far as she could go, at the time.

  Nick never asked more of her, but she knew he was praying for her to reconcile with Richmond and begin again. Andee wished she could reassure him.

  She could have sunk into a pit of depression, had Nick not steadied her with his loving presence. And, oddly, her frustration with the lack of satisfying sex in their relationship proved a needed, if unwanted, distraction.

  That chapter in their lives came to a climax on New Year's Eve. They had spent the day preparing special treats for a small party and then welcoming Leila and a half dozen others to a late afternoon and evening of board games, football viewing and feasting.

  Andee was ready for celebration of a different type by the time the last guest departed, soon after midnight. They straightened Nick's living room in companionable silence and disposed of the small number of leftovers by gulping down a few more of them as they worked, and feeding the garbage disposal with the balance.

  "Ready for me to drive you home?" Nick asked, hugging her from behind as she swept the sink with hot water from the spray attachment.

  "Only if you plan to stop at a make-out spot along the way."

  "That would be a much more comfortable activity at your place."

  "In that case, I'm ready," she said, heart speeding a little. This time, she was determined he would not be able to deny her.

  She noticed that he left a light on as they closed the door and headed for his car. That welcome home beacon, she thought with a little secret smile, would be totally unnecessary once she began her assault on his defenses. She intended to win the battle this time and wake up next to him in the morning, the first morning of a new year, in her own apartment.

  As soon as they pulled out onto the main street beside his condo, she put her warm hand high on his thigh and then, after a moment, curved her fingers in and began tracing small, tantalizing designs over the surface of his dark wool trousers.

  He grinned at her. "Careful, sweetie. That's a big distraction."

  "I plan to offer you even more. Too bad they don't make cars like they used to. I could be snuggling right up against you all the way home."

  "You could, indeed, but we might never make it home if you were too dedicated. Not that you're doing a halfway job, as it is. Hey, now! Stop that!" he ordered as her fingers moved upward and found a more sensitive portion of his anatomy that had suddenly sprung to life.

  It delighted her to know he already wanted her. One more glass of wine and he would be hers.

  The night was cool enough to make them happy to hurry into her apartment, where she turned immediately to burrow inside his leather jacket and slip her hands beneath the confines of his belt and the waistband at the back of his slacks. Her fingertips traced back and forth across the material of his shirt and the shorts beneath them, and she worked her hands in far enough, when he sucked in a breath, to find the divide at the base of his spine and tease a few inches up and down its length through his clothing and then to scratch teasingly at the beginning of the curve of his buttocks.

  He chuckled and palmed her full bottom, squeezing her tight against him.

  "You were beautiful tonight," he whispered into her hair.

  "Ummm, I'm glad you thought so. But I'm not sure you got the whole picture. Why don't you use your talented fingers on that zipper down my back and then see what else you can find to open up or dispose of. I'll be busy here for a few minutes," she cooed, sliding her hands out of his pants and bringing them around to work on his belt.

  Instead, he raised one hand to the back of her neck and urged her face up toward his with a gentle nudge to her chin. The kiss he gave her left her weak and leaning into him for support, her mission at his belt forgotten.

  "I need you now," she whispered, all plans for a slow and tantalizing seduction cast aside in the urgency of the moment.

  She felt his hands on the long zipper as he freed her shoulders first and then unclasped her bra. His palms cupped her breasts when they sprang free as her dress and bra slid off and whispered down to pool around her feet.

  When he shrugged out of his jacket and then lifted her in both arms and cradled her across his chest, she smiled lazily into his warm darkI eyes. "Love me," she said. "Just love me. I need to know how much you care."

  It took only a few steps to bring them to her futon. He sat with his back against one low end of the furniture, his long legs spread out the length of the bed, and held her seated across his lap, working her panties down with great efficiency, thanks to the helpful little wiggles she provided. She giggled delightedly as he grinned at her.

  When she was naked in his arms, he turned her to lie with her back to him and encircled her with his arms, hugging her into him as his hands stroked her breasts and teased her nipples into even more impressive erection. He took small nips and sucks at her neck as the fingers of his right hand trailed down her body and found the space where it divided to display her charms.

  Her legs fell open against his and she sighed and stretched her head back to lie on his shoulder, offering him every part of her. While his lips played along the slender column of her neck and down to her shoulders, his fingers kept up their tweaking of her tender breasts and the achingly slow journey that finally separated her nether lips and laid bare the pink, tender valleys they had protected. He traced those lovingly and tantalizingly for long moments, only occasionally brushing his thumb over the sensitive little mountain standing erect between those fleshy plains now open wide to his exploration.

  She moved against him, moaning, wordlessly directing him to know her even better.

  "I want you to turn around and lie down now, baby," he whispered. "Put your head between my feet and your legs on my shoulders."

  She complied with as much grace as she could inject into the somewhat awkward shift in position, and when she lay flat on her back, he pulled her closer in. Her bottom rested against the rigid confirmation of his passion for her. Her own center of satisfaction was so close he could not fail to be aware of her need.

  "Slide your legs down just a little," he urged, and when she complied, he gently opened them outwards, so that she was even more fully revealed. His fingers began their magic work again. She knew she should be thoroughly self-conscious, to be so open to him in all her secret places, but all she could think of was how much she wanted him.

  He dipped to the source of the moisture preparing her body for his ent
rance with two fingers and spread the liquid around the soft pink woman flesh that was growing darker by the moment, teasing her mercilessly until she was begging him with inarticulate moans.

  Only then did he leave off his tender mercies long enough to raise her hips and stuff two pillows beneath her cheeks. When her legs fell away and slid down to rest on either side of his hips to end up balanced over the end of the bed, he pulled himself a little more upright and then bent and buried his face between her legs. He lapped at her sweetness and alternately circled the upper reaches of her womanhood with the firmed tip of his tongue and then slid it partway into the deep cavern further down and dipped into the nectar there. He finished with a slow sweep upward with tongue flattened, covering the little pearl that demanded his attention with sweet undulations.

  She never wanted it to end, but her body screamed for release, and the fourth time he completed the circuit and then used his hot, wet tongue tip to flick back and forth across her clitoris, while he plunged a finger deep inside her and unerringly found the spot where she was most responsive, she shattered into a million pieces and sobbed his name.

  He stroked her afterwards, hands moving slowly up and down her body, until she was ready to respond again. This time, it took only moments. And then she lay in exhausted surrender.

  *****

  She was so ready for him, he knew, even now. She would willingly reach deep inside herself and welcome whatever he chose to give her, wanting to give back to him at the same time. He hoped he could make her understand why he could not yet give her all she wanted; why the very withholding was his way of offering her what he valued most.

  "I need more. You need more," she whispered, almost drunkenly, in a post-orgasmic haze, minutes later.

  There was no denying it. He ached, quite literally, for her. But he had gone as far as he would go tonight, and he had to make her understand why.

  He found her hands, lying slack at her side, and tugged her up to face him. She gasped and tensed a little as that action brought her still sensitive tissues more firmly in contact with the pillow over his lap.