Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings)

by Michele Summers

  “Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.” Desire shone in his eyes as Keith rocked into her.

  “Oh, Keith…I feel…” Bertie half groaned, half panted.

  Keith plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her as he thrust deeper and deeper. She wrapped a leg around his waist, adjusting to his rhythm as he pumped. His greedy kisses stole her breath and she gripped his shoulders with need and passion. With each push, he drove them closer to climax, stroking her insides until she felt she’d explode. Keith tore his mouth from hers and they both gasped for air. She arched her back and dug her nails into his back. Keith dropped his head and latched on to her stiff nipple with his hot mouth. Then he planted kisses on her chest and up her throat.

  “God, Bertie, you feel amazing.”

  “Keith,” she barely said above a whisper. “Please…don’t stop.” Bertie wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him how she felt. She burned to tell him that she’d never felt this way before. That he was amazing and that she was going to fly apart into a million pieces. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. But then she looked up into his intense features, and he wrapped his arm beneath her knee, spreading her wider. He penetrated deeper, increasing the friction and intensifying the sensation, each thrust building toward a climax, making her mindless with need. Her heart pounded in her chest and every miniscule bit of awareness zeroed in on where they were joined as one.

  “Come for me,” he rasped, and Bertie obeyed as if she’d been waiting for his command. Her muscles tightened, her legs trembled, and her head fell back as she reached the pinnacle. Stars exploded behind her eyes as her orgasm slammed into her.

  Keith plunged faster and deeper until a pent-up groan burst from his heaving chest. Then he stopped. Bertie could feel the tremors as his arms shuddered from the strain. Every nerve in Bertie’s body burned from the soul-sucking orgasm as Keith collapsed on top of her.

  After endless moments of enjoying the sensation of him still inside her, Bertie stirred. Keith’s body still covered hers. She had no idea how long they’d been in that position, stuck together like glue, but her leg had begun to fall asleep from his dead weight. Okay, maybe not dead—more like delicious weight. He lifted his head and a bead of sweat trickled down his temple and curled around his jawline.

  “You okay?” he asked in a rusty voice.

  Bertie nodded. “Mmm, yeah. That was…wonderful,” she whispered.

  Keith’s sexy half smile appeared. “It was.” He paused to plant a kiss on her nose. “And so are you.”

  Bertie’s heart backflipped. He rolled on his side, taking her with him as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. She smoothed her hand over the sculpted muscles on his chest. He tipped her head up and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

  “Do you mind if I don’t leave?”

  Her heart triple flipped and a smile played around her lips. His warm gaze reflected the same love she felt for him. But Bertie didn’t want to dwell on what she saw burning in his eyes or felt in his touch. She’d think about that later…much later.

  “No. I don’t mind.” She gave a lazy smile. “I was wondering…do you think the best could maybe get even better?”

  A low, deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. “We’ll never know unless we try.”

  Chapter 19

  Bertie sat at the chrome table in her kitchen, rubbing the edge of her favorite green mug with her index finger. She marveled as the sun painted the sky a rosy orange, making the leaves on the trees wake up and greet the beautiful morning. A silly smile played around her lips as she enjoyed the smell of fresh-brewed coffee filling her kitchen. She adjusted the shirt she wore and tucked it under her bottom. The white button-down shirt that belonged to Keith. Yup. Keith. The guy she’d spent hours in bed with, making love with twice…no, make that three times. Three times! Bertie hadn’t had sex three times in the last year, much less in one night.

  At the moment, Mr. Studalicious was taking a shower. Bertie had a sudden thought that she’d forgotten to stock the linen closet in her bathroom with clean towels and maybe he didn’t have anything to dry off with. That would be tragic. Keith standing in her bathroom in all his naked glory, dripping wet with no towel. Oh my. She needed to get up there and make sure she caught him before he managed to cover anything important with her dainty finger towel or her lace drapery valence. Bertie giggled at her silliness as she poured him a steaming cup of coffee, adding a dollop of cream, and carried it up the stairs.

  She entered her bedroom and actually blushed as she spied the bed with its rumpled covers strewn in disarray. Pausing, she sighed, allowing the memories from the night before to sweep over her. Being physically attached to Keith was the highlight. She loved the way his hair curled around his ears and felt like silk between her fingers and how his scruffy stubble managed to tickle her in all the right places. And she loved the intensity of his dark eyes and how he directed all that intensity her way, as if she were the most beautiful woman alive. The way his passion and force consumed her. And the way his sensuous mouth pressed into her flesh in the most tender way. And how he delighted in kissing every inch of her body until she begged him to stop, but instead, he’d laughed and pinned her to the bed, starting all over, kissing every inch again and again.

  The sound of the shower shook Bertie out of her reverie. She still had time to gather some clean towels. She placed Keith’s coffee mug on the bedside table next to his watch, cell phone, and her contemporary crystal lamp. She went about picking up the decorative linen pillows which littered her floor and tossing them back on her bed when Keith’s cell rang. Startled, Bertie checked the clock sitting on top of her antique painted end table. Who’d be calling at seven on a Sunday morning? By the time she’d reached the bedside table, the ringing had stopped.

  Bertie’s feet tangled with Keith’s discarded jeans and sweater so she bent and placed them on the bed when his phone rang again. This time, she picked it up and glanced at a long distance number displayed on the screen. Bertie hesitated. She didn’t make a habit of answering other people’s calls, but she wondered if something may be wrong with Maddie. Or maybe…before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the answer button.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded anxious.

  “Hello…darling?”

  The feminine voice on the other end sounded vaguely familiar. “Aunt Franny? Sorry. I can’t hear you very well.”

  “This is Angelina Morgan. I’m trying to reach my son, Keith. Have I dialed the wrong number?”

  Total surprise robbed Bertie speechless. “Hello? Is anyone there?” Angelina Morgan said, clear as if she stood in the room next door.

  “Oh, um. Yes, I’m still here. But Keith—”

  “You must be Keith’s new girlfriend, or is it fiancée now?” A husky chuckle poured through the line. “I’m sorry we haven’t met, but I’ve already heard such wonderful things about you from Francesca.”

  Bertie could feel the color drain from her face and her fingers felt cold. Girlfriend? Fiancée? Bertie knew the way she knew her own handwriting that Keith’s mother was not referring to her. Because up until the incredible sex they’d shared last night, she and Keith had been ducking and dodging each other like a couple of prize fighters—not dating and certainly not engaged—for fear of what might happen if they got too close. Like a night spent in bed, making love.

  “Hello? Are you still there?” Bertie jerked to attention at Angelina’s cultured voice.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, but—”

  “What the hell are you doing with my phone?” Keith snapped over Bertie’s shoulder. Bertie jumped at the sound of his harsh voice, almost dropping the phone from her stiff fingers.

  “You! I’m sorry.” She shoved the phone at Keith. “It’s your mother.”

  Keith’s mask of anger fell into place as he snatched the phone from her hand. He breathed several obscenities before putting it t
o his ear and turning his back on Bertie.

  Gone was the tender man who’d held her in his arms as she’d slept and then woke her with a trail of kisses along her neck. Keith strode toward the window, wearing one of her fluffy white bath towels and nothing else. Beads of water trickled down his sleek back. He planted his feet apart in a rigid stance and gripped the edge of her window frame as he growled in a low voice into the phone. Bertie inched backward, trying to vacate the room before he turned his angry eyes on her again, but Keith’s burst of outrage stopped her.

  “No. You are not coming to the wedding.”

  She froze as her heart flipped and fell onto the floor. Her lungs locked up and she feared she might pass out. Her brain screamed inside her head, blocking the rest of Keith’s conversation. It was true. Somehow she’d always known it was true, but she never really wanted to believe it. Somewhere deep down in the far recesses of her heart, she had thought that maybe he’d want her. He’d marry her. And after last night, after all the love they’d shared, allowing their bodies to express the words they couldn’t find or had feared to say, she’d been sure that Keith was the man for her. They had a connection. She loved him and had probably loved him since that first day he’d caught her hiding in his closet. And after last night, she’d thought for sure he felt the connection too.

  “No. I haven’t made any plans yet. Maybe. Yeah, I’ll let you know. Okay…no…I’ll call. Don’t call me.” He gave an angry punch to the off button. He lowered his head as his broad shoulders slumped forward. This was not a picture of a man who’d just shared a wonderful night with the woman he loved. This was a picture of a man who deeply regretted his past actions, who wished he was anywhere but here—a picture of a man trying to find the words to let her down easy.

  “Keith,” Bertie choked on a whisper. He didn’t respond. He stood with his head hanging low, memorizing every tuft and fiber of her cut-pile wool carpet. Bertie cleared her throat. “Would you like to…er, talk about it?”

  He lifted his head with a glassy-eyed stare as if he were far, far away, in a world that Bertie knew nothing about. Long, agonizing moments ticked by.

  “She sucked as a mother,” he finally said in a rough voice. “She basically abandoned me when I was fifteen. My dad had died the year before and my mom…my mom couldn’t handle it.” Keith pushed a heavy hand through his wet hair and then gripped his scalp as if his head pounded from a wicked hangover. “Nothing was the same after that.”

  Bertie held his coffee out to him, hoping it would help. Keith didn’t move to take it. “I stayed in boarding school. The only family that claimed me was Aunt Francesca. She’d come up for holidays or take me on vacations. My mom would flit over now and again, but not for very long. Our relationship was painful on the good days. I resented the hell out of her. Still do.”

  He untied the towel around his waist and finished drying off, oblivious to his nakedness. Bertie blushed like a schoolgirl, as if she hadn’t just spent an entire night naked with him in bed. Her legs felt like jelly. She wanted to sit down or run screaming from the room, but she didn’t do either.

  Keith pulled on his boxers, tossing his used towel on the bed. He continued talking, almost in a monotone, as if he knew it all by rote. “She did come to see me play at Wimbledon one year and tried to meet with me. I didn’t want to have anything to do with her. I had Adriana and Maddie to worry about.” His humorless laugh jolted Bertie with its hollow echo. “So, after thousands of dollars and years of therapy, I realized that having a fucked-up childhood with an emotionally stunted mother was never going to change. I still fucked up most of my twenties. Why not? I had the money, the looks, and I felt entitled.”

  Bertie placed his untouched coffee on top her chest of drawers. “Keith…that’s the past. It doesn’t have—”

  “Then Adriana died and even though our marriage sucked, she was Maddie’s mother. I never wanted her to die. Not like that. Not alone in a burning car.”

  Bertie winced and reached out to touch him. “I’m sorry. It must’ve been horr—”

  “No more.” He moved away from her. “I’ve changed. I’m not that person anymore. As much as Aunt Francesca’s ultimatum pisses me off, I’m going through with it. I’m fixing my life so that I don’t fuck up Maddie’s…any more than I already have. I have to do this. I’m never going back to the way things were.” He spoke as if he’d memorized a speech or had been brainwashed. Bertie’s heart squeezed at the pain she witnessed around his eyes and the tightening of his jaw.

  He pulled up his jeans and shoved his feet in his loafers. “I refuse to have a repeat performance of one of the world’s most poisonous marriages.” He stopped and looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I…I can’t do this.”

  Bertie’s heart slammed into her chest. “What do you mean ‘this’?”

  Keith finally cut his dark eyes to her. “I can’t be with you. Last night was a—”

  “Don’t say it!” she warned. She didn’t think her heart could take it. “Don’t you dare say last night was a mistake.”

  “Not saying it isn’t going to change anything.”

  Bertie shook her head. “Last night was the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You and Maddie.” Her legs trembled. “I love you.”

  Keith flinched as if she’d thrown sand in his face. Tears streaked down Bertie’s face, but she didn’t wipe them away. “That’s right. I love you. And you love me, but you’re too afraid or chickenshit or something to admit it.” He turned his back and pulled on his sweater as if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

  Bertie yanked on his arm until he faced her. “You’ve got it in your warped, effed-up brain that I’m the wrong kind of woman. Good enough to screw, but not good enough to marry.”

  “Bullshit! This has nothing to do with you.”

  “The hell it doesn’t! So your mother abandoned you. Tough shit! My mother and my father died. And all I had was Cal, the restaurant, and Aunt Franny. I had to scrape and scrap for everything I’ve ever accomplished. If it weren’t for Aunt Franny, I would never have gone to design school.” Bertie struggled for air as she filled her lungs. “You’ve had a great education and a career that most people only dream about. You’ve got more money than you could spend in a lifetime. You can do or be whatever you want. And you’re blessed with a beautiful daughter who loves you. You’ve got it all.”

  Bertie looked down at her bare toes, then back up into his pain-filled face. He talked about his past that needed to stay in the past. He had closed himself off from feeling anything. Even the connection between them.

  “And if you’d stop wallowing in your self-imposed purgatory, you’d see that you could have me too,” she ended on a whisper.

  Keith shoved his hands in his pockets and his features turned blank. An awkward silence filled the room.

  “Bertie…I…I need to do what I think is right. I’m not thinking about myself. I’m only thinking of Maddie. And she needs—”

  A sob tore from Bertie’s throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth.

  “You don’t love me. You just think you do. Like you said, I’m a self-centered, selfish bastard who’s got more baggage than anyone wants to deal with. You and I got caught up in a crazy relationship that revolved around an impossible deadline and lust. It was just sex, Bertie. Don’t read any more into it than that.”

  Devastation and anger crashed into Bertie at the same time. “That’s not true! I don’t have just sex. Don’t tell me what I’m feeling right now. I love you, but right now I’d like to kill you.”

  He shook his head. “Bertie, you’re confusing lust for love. There’s a huge difference. In a few weeks, you’re gonna see that I’m right and be glad.”

  She folded her arms around her middle, hugging herself in Keith’s shirt. “You’re wrong. I’m not confused. But whe
n the day comes that you realize you’ve made a mistake, I probably won’t be here.”

  Keith crossed the room toward the door and then stopped. “That’s right. You won’t be,” he said, anger lacing his voice. A different kind of anger. A jealous anger. Startled, Bertie stared at him. “What about your dream of leaving this hick town and making it in a big city? You’d throw all that away to stay here? To be with me? And Maddie?” His burst of laughter sounded bitter. “I don’t think so. No way am I standing in the way of your dreams so you can throw it back in my face. I live with enough guilt already. I don’t need to feel guilty about you too.”

  Keith rubbed his hand across his left wrist. When he didn’t feel his watch, he moved to the nightstand and picked it up. “Last night was a mistake.” Bertie choked back a sob. “But not the way you think. I loved having sex with you, and God knows I’d do it again and again if I could, but I can’t. I can’t screw up like that anymore.”

  He strapped the watch on his wrist. “Finish the house. Don’t lose the money Aunt Francesca promised you over this. And follow your dreams.” He gestured toward the bed. “Let’s forget all this and go back to the way things were.”

  His rejection of what they’d shared and what had passed between them tore her heart. But at least Bertie knew. She knew he wouldn’t fight for them. He’d shut down and closed her out.

  “Fine. You’re right. No way I’m losing a hundred and fifty thousand dollars over one night of sex. I’ll finish on time and then I’ll be out of your life forever.”

  Keith gave a curt nod and took a step back. “Good. You won’t regret it. I’ll see you…take care of yourself.” He turned and walked out of her room and her life.

  Bertie stood in the same spot, staring at the empty doorway until she heard her front door close. She waited, hoping and praying that he’d turn around and race back up the stairs and haul her into his arms, showering her face with kisses and declaring his love for her. In the distance, the start of his car engine and the faint sound of tires backing out of her gravel driveway reached her ears. Bertie fell to her knees and sobbed into her hands.