by Sandra Brown
She tossed back her hair and airily replied, "You shouldn't ask."
Cursing, Taylor went stamping toward the garage. "I'm going jogging."
As soon as she heard the back door slam behind him, Ria's proud posture collapsed. She was tired. Trying to appear healthy and happy had exhausted her. Trying to hide her feelings for Taylor had strained her nerves to the breaking point.
If she hated him, if he had ever given her reason to hate him, pretending to love him would have been a challenging game. As it was, she continually had to remind herself that none of their affection or intimacy meant anything.
By the time he came in, she was already in bed. She played possum when he went into the bathroom and closed the door. Moments later she heard the shower running.
Oh, Lord, what a mess she'd made of things.
When he left the bathroom, she did her best to silence her sobs, but something tipped him off. He halted on his way through the bedroom door, changed direction, and moved toward the bed. He bridged her head with his arms.
"Ria? Are you crying? Is something wrong?" She shook her head, but he wasn't convinced. "It's not … you're not bleeding excessively or anything, are you?" He flung the sheet back and turned her onto her back.
"No, it's nothing like that." She rubbed the tears off her cheeks, but not before the moonlight shone on them.
"You are crying."
"As I've done for three days solid," she said with self-disgust. "I never cry. Recently that's all I do."
"You're entitled. The doctor warned me that you would be pretty upset for a week or so."
He was wearing only a towel around his hips. His hair, still wet, clung to his head adorably. His chest hair was damp and curly. That silky thatch around his navel had drops of water nestling in it. Because he was using his arms to support himself, the muscles and veins in his biceps bulged.
Ria wanted to kiss his mouth, his neck, his nipples, which the cool room had made erect. She wanted to catch each glistening drop of water on his body with her tongue and swallow his clean taste along with it. Since she couldn't do any of those things, she started to cry again.
"What's the matter?" Baffled, he lowered himself to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's been a rough day for me too."
"I shouldn't have put you through it."
"I asked to be put through it, remember? And I didn't mean what I said about Guy. Well, I meant it—I don't like him either—but I'm sorry it hurt your feelings." He was speaking earnestly enough, but saying all the wrong things. He was ineffectually brushing back her hair, but mostly succeeding only in poking his fingers into her eyes.
Suddenly Ria found the situation absurd, and she began to laugh and cry at the same time. "I've made such a mess of things," she said, blubbering.
"Like what?"
"Your life."
"Huh?"
"Taylor, hasn't it occurred to you that if I'd just waited a few more weeks, you wouldn't have been involved at all?" He held the corner of the sheet against her face. Dutifully she wiped away her tears. "I'd have lost the baby and you never would have been the wiser. But no, I had to come bulldozing my way into your life, demanding that you marry me."
"Come, now, you're much more like a butterfly than a bulldozer."
"Don't patronize me."
Smiling, he pressed her head against his furry, naked chest. "Hasn't it occurred to you how responsible I feel for ruining your life? I got you pregnant."
"We both got me pregnant."
"But I should have been wearing something. Barring that, I should have withdrawn before … you know."
They were both still for a very long time. Finally Ria whispered, "I don't think I'd have let you do that."
"Maybe not that first time. It happened so fast."
"We lost our heads. Weren't thinking."
"But the second time. And the third." He sank his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp. "We had plenty of time to think responsibly, and we didn't."
Yes, both those times had been slow and languid lovemaking. As his body had stroked hers, they'd gazed into each other's eyes, marveling over how wonderful it felt, gliding into a sweet oblivion together.
Ria tactfully changed the subject. "It's too late for recriminations about Christmas Eve."
"But not about our honeymoon."
"Honeymoon?"
"These last three weeks. Ria, was there a night when we didn't make love?"
"No."
"And that's not counting the mornings and the nooners, and—" He broke off and ran a hand down his face. "It's no wonder you lost the baby."
"Oh, Taylor, don't." She raised up and clasped his face between her hands. "The doctor said that nothing could have prevented the miscarriage because nothing in particular caused it."
"Not even a marathon of sex?"
"No. Especially not sex with you. I mean," she added hastily, "you've never been rough."
"I never hurt you?"
"Of course not." She replaced her head on his chest and hugged him tightly.
He sighed with relief. "I didn't think so. I didn't intend to. But when you lost the baby, I was afraid that I'd been hurting you and you just hadn't said anything."
"No, no." She shook her head from side to side, as much to make her point as to feel his chest hair brushing back and forth across her face and lips.
"I've been so worried about that."
"See? That's what I mean," she said. "You shouldn't have had to worry about any of this. I wish I had never involved you. This is such a landmark in your life and career."
"Our marriage hasn't affected my career anything like it's affected yours."
"I told you I wanted to go into business for myself."
"And I told you that our marriage was a plus to my public image."
"But because of me you haven't been able to enjoy your success. I've interfered with every area of your life. If I'd left you alone, your relationship with Lisa wouldn't have suffered this setback."
"What about your relationship with Guy?"
"Frankly?"
"Frankly."
"It wasn't going anywhere anyway."
She wished he'd say the same thing about his relationship with Lisa, but he didn't. She wished she had the courage to refuse his comfort, but she didn't. Having his arms around her was a luxury she felt she deserved after the past few days. She luxuriated in the closeness and wanted to prolong it for as long as possible.
"Taylor, what did you do with all the books?"
"The baby books?"
"Uh-huh."
"I put them away so you wouldn't see them. I thought they might upset you."
"They would have. Thank you."
Leaning back against the headboard, he stroked her hair, rearranging the dark, heavy strands across his stomach. "Your folks are great."
"You think so?"
"Yes. You take after your mother."
"I'm adopted, remember? If I resemble her, it's a coincidence."
"Not so much physically. I meant mannerisms, patterns of speech. That kind of thing. And I really like your dad."
"Is he anything like yours?"
"No, not really. About the same age, though."
Ria absently plucked at his chest hair. "Taylor, are you jealous of your stepsister and stepbrother?"
"No. They're just kids. Cute kids. Good kids."
She lifted her head and looked at him. "You have every right to be jealous. You don't have as much of your father as you would if it weren't for them." Absently she raked her thumbnail over his lips.
"I know he loved my mother. I know he loves me. It's just that his new family needs him now more than I do."
"But?"
"But sometimes I'm jealous," he said with a self-deprecating laugh. "Do you think I'm a jerk?"
"Perfectly normal."
When she realized that her thumb was still caressing his lips, she removed it. He looked down at her mouth.
Ria felt a familiar and welcome heat spreading through her. It proved that she had survived and was still functioning. It was the first time she'd felt alive and warm in days. Apparently Taylor wasn't immune to it. He eased her away from him.
"I'd better let you get some sleep." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "Good night, Ria."
"Taylor." She reached out and caught his arm. He turned and looked down at her. Self-consciously she snatched her hand back. "I can't sleep, knowing how uncomfortable you are in there on the sofa." She lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see how close she was to begging. "What I mean is, if you want to sleep in here, it's fine with me."
"In here? In the same bed?"
"Yes. Nothing can happen, right?"
"Right. Absolutely."
"So why shouldn't we be comfortable?"
What each was thinking but neither voiced was that sleeping that close together might be more uncomfortable than not. Yet they didn't want to deny themselves the reassuring nearness of the other.
"Well, if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Ria lay back down and pulled the sheet and blanket over her shoulders. She closed her eyes. Holding her breath, she heard the wet towel land softly on the carpet. Listening to his naked body sliding between the sheets made her heart pound. The thought of all that warm, hair-smattered skin lying sandwiched between the cool, smooth sheets kept her awake and tense. She held her body rigid for fear of accidentally touching him with her foot. When he spoke her name from out of the darkness, she actually jumped.
"What?"
"Ria, I'm very sorry about the baby."
She could feel his hand searching for hers. Instinctively she reached out and latched onto it. He squeezed her hand tightly. "So am I, Taylor. Very sorry."
"Do you still think about him?"
"Yes."
"I do too." After a lengthy pause he said, "You'll probably have another baby someday."
"Yes, maybe. And so will you."
"Yeah, maybe."
Neither sounded too enthusiastic or optimistic. But they silently acknowledged that they stood a better chance of warding off their sadness together rather than individually, so their hands remained clasped under the covers.
"Ria?"
"Hm?"
Sleepily she turned toward her husband, who cuddled her against him. He nuzzled her face, then kissed her lips. Ria loved these first-thing-in-the-morning kisses, when his beard lightly scraped her skin. She draped an arm across his waist. Her lips were pliant beneath his. His tongue slid between them and touched hers. She sighed and kneed him gently in the groin. He was swollen and hot.
Fumbling for her breast, he grumbled, "How come you've got on a nightgown?"
He managed to unfasten the pearl buttons on the chemise-style nightgown. Her full breast fell into his seeking hand. He massaged it, loving the way its round plumpness reshaped itself to fit his palm. He whisked his thumb over the crest. Again. It beaded.
"Taylor…"
"Hm?"
"Nothing. I was just sighing your name because that feels so good."
He groaned. "I want you bad, baby."
As they kissed, Ria nudged his middle with hers, then stayed to rub against him in a mating rhythm. Their open mouths melded. He sent his tongue deep, burying it in the hot, sweet cocoon of her mouth.
Rolling on top of her, his lips traveled down her neck to her breasts. He kissed them through the sheer cotton, then rooted against them until his lips touched bare skin. Drowsily his tongue caressed her nipple.
Ecstasy rippled through Ria. When his lips closed around her nipple and he began to suck, she shivered in delight. It seemed that the invisible nerve fiber connecting breast to womb was more finely tuned than usual. Her lower body contracted hungrily with each gentle tug of his mouth.
Her eyes came open slowly. She ran her fingers up through his mussed hair. She parted her thighs. He moved between them.
Suddenly she woke up fully. "Taylor!"
"Now? Oh, yes, sweetheart, yes."
He framed her face between his hands and kissed her passionately. His lower body frantically rocked against hers. Panties were something he'd never had to deal with in their bed, especially first thing in the morning.
"Taylor."
"Hm?" He was kissing her madly. His hips were thrusting wildly.
"We're making love."
"God, yes, I know."
She grasped double handfuls of hair and pulled his head up. He blinked himself awake. When realization dawned, he rolled to his side and stared at her in speechless dismay. With her hair tousled, the flounced hem of her nightgown bunched up around her waist, the gaping bodice exposing more rosy, ripe breast than it was covering, and the debauched fullness to her lips, she looked like the soiled dove in a Victorian novel—as desirable as she was forbidden.
Glancing down at his aroused sex, he muttered a curse. Rolling off the bed, he stumbled into the bathroom.
"Nothing happened, really. You were still asleep. I know you didn't mean to," Ria said shyly as she handed him a cup of coffee half an hour later.
"I don't want to talk about it." He burned his tongue on the coffee, and cursed it viciously.
"I just don't want you to think that I think that you did it intentionally."
"I didn't do it intentionally."
"That's what I just said."
"Then what are you shouting about?"
"I wasn't shouting until you started shouting."
"Look," he said, slicing the air with his free hand, "a guy wakes up in his own bed and there's a naked girl in it—"
"I was not naked."
"Okay, an almost-naked girl."
"And I'm not a girl, either. I'm your wife."
"Then you can't blame me for treating you like a wife, can you?"
"I don't."
"There's just no reasoning with you, Ria. I'm going to be late." He yanked his suit coat off the kitchen chair, which went flying backward. Picking up his briefcase, he stormed out. Seconds after the door slammed behind him, he shoved it open and stuck his head inside. "Don't do anything stupid today, like climb a mountain. Take it easy."
The dishes rattled a second time when he shut the door.
His telling her not to do anything turned out to be superfluous. She got the sum total of nothing accomplished. Her mind wouldn't stay on a single project. Ideas weren't creeping into her head, much less springing. She couldn't attribute her lack of productivity to postweekend ennui, or even to the miscarriage. Physically she felt almost normal.
Her mind was preoccupied with her quasi-marriage. If they had many more scenes like the one that morning, she and Taylor would end up murdering each other, or sorely wanting to.
Surely he would agree with her now that it would be better for them both if she moved out and they got a quiet annulment. He was beyond being crippled politically. The newspapers were filled with stories about him and how his energetic leadership would benefit the city. He wouldn't be affected by the break nearly as much as Ria would.
She'd fallen in love with him. Living with him while knowing that their marriage was on death row was more than she could stand. It would be much better for her peace of mind to close this chapter of her life now. Staying would only result in falling more deeply in love with him, or hating him for not loving her back. Both were bleak prospects.
Having discovered that their tempers seemed to be directly linked to their libidos, Ria decided to approach him calmly and coolly. She even had a cold beer waiting for him when he came home that evening. But no sooner had he taken the first sip than she said, "Taylor, I've decided to go."
"Go where?"
"Home. I've decided to move back home."
He took a sip of beer. "Why?"
"It's only a matter of time before I do anyway. I can't go on living in limbo. I want to be at home, in my own surroundings, while I'm recuperating from the miscarriage. Since I'm working out of the living room there, I might
just as well consolidate everything under one roof."
One terse expletive summed up his estimation of her decision. "You're leaving because of what happened this morning, aren't you?" She glared at him stubbornly. "Aren't you?"
"All right, yes!"
Turning his back on her, he finished the beer in one long swallow. He swore beneath his breath, but loud enough for the coarse words to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. At last he came around slowly. "Are you afraid of me, Ria?"
It was such an alien concept, it took a moment for her to assimilate it. Finally she shook her head. "No, Taylor."
"I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you?
"Yes. I told you this morning that I knew you were half-asleep and unaware of what we were doing."
"You did?"
"Yes, but I'm not sure you were listening."
He chuckled with chagrin. "When I got to work, I couldn't remember exactly what we'd said, but I was fairly certain I'd made an ass of myself."
"Never that. But you were upset. So was I."
"I wanted to be with you last night for your sake, not for mine."
"I know that."
"You don't think I was taking advantage of you?"
"No. I asked you to stay with me. I wanted you to."
She clasped her hands together and wet her lips nervously. "But it appears we can't be friends, Taylor. This sexual pull between us is too strong. It puts too much strain on a friendship. If I stay here now, we'll end up fighting all the time like we did this morning. I don't want that to happen. And I don't think you do either. It would be best if I moved out tonight."
"Don't go." His voice, his eyes, were compelling.
She felt herself being drawn into them as a fallen leaf is magnetically pulled into a whirlpool. "I have to, Taylor."
"Just because you lost the baby doesn't mean that I relinquish all responsibility for you. It made me mad as hell that you paid the hospital bill. I wanted to do that. It was my duty. I'm legally your husband, no matter what happens in our bed. I want to look after you until I'm certain you're physically and emotionally healed."
Ria stifled a sob and covered her face with her hands. What he was saying was beautiful, but the motivation behind his words was wrong. She would have loved for him to pamper her, but out of love, not a sense of responsibility. "I don't know what to do."