by Nancy Gideon
Finally, he held her away, his gaze a smoldering contradiction to his claim of, “I’ll take the couch.”
Susanna stared at the ceiling, painfully awake in the big empty bed. She was cold and restless and unhappy with the stalemated situation. With her situation in general. So she reached for the phone to cool the dangerous direction of her thoughts.
“It’s late. Is there a problem?”
The comfort she’d hoped to find was stripped away by Damien’s terse tone.
“No, no problem. Just checking in. How’s Pearl?”
He avoided her question. “Checking in? The way you would with a supervisor? I am more than your employer, Susanna, or have you forgotten that?”
Anger simmered beneath his civility. His sharp question got her wondering: Were they? Had they ever been more?
“No, I haven’t forgotten. You don’t need to remind me.”
“Apparently, I do.” Her quiet words did little to soothe his mood, for he continued fiercely. “Your career, your future, your child are all in my hands and this is how you thank me? With secrets, with defiance? Where are you, Susanna? I want you here where you belong.”
Was he threatening her? Threatening Pearl? Surprise became alarm. Then, for the first time, fear. She’d left her daughter in this man’s care. Was she safe?
Her silence changed Damien’s manner to one of soothing care. Perhaps a little too late.
“Forgive me, my dear. I’m fatigued. I’ve had to put in an enormous amount of time and energy to cover for your unexplained absence.”
Instead of grateful, she felt increasingly unsettled. He was trying to manipulate her already guilty conscience. “You didn’t have to do that, Damien.”
“Of course I did. I couldn’t have your colleagues thinking—” He broke off, then quickly added, “I didn’t want them to be concerned.”
He didn’t want them to think he wasn’t in control of the situation. In control of her.
And then his testy mood made perfect sense. Because, for the first time, he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry to have become such a burden. That wasn’t my intention. Good night, Damien. Tell Pearl I called.”
“Susanna—”
She cut the connection before he could continue, her nerves frayed, temper still high, and thoughts running in anxious circles. Should she give in and return? Could he be trusted with her daughter in his current frame of mind? This was Damien! Kind, giving, encouraging . . . And furious with her. Because she wouldn’t obey him. Couldn’t obey him, not this time.
A creak and a muttering groan sounded from the living room followed by several loud thumps and a weary sigh.
Her strained mood fractured.
“How am I ever going to get any rest with you out there thrashing around?” she shouted.
Silence.
The rasp of overtaxed springs and a gruff, “I’ll sleep in the car.”
She sighed, frustration and an underlying fright making her draw the very danger she was trying to avoid closer. “Jacques, come here.”
Silence. Then the sound of his reluctant approach. Her intentions nearly faltered at the sight of him in the doorway looking appealingly rumpled and grouchy. He squinted at her suspiciously as she lifted the covers and patted the mattress.
“I’m tired and you’re too big for that couch,” she explained like a rational adult while trying not to ogle his bare legs. “Get in, get comfortable, and for heaven’s sake, get some sleep.”
He hesitated for a brief instant, then fatigue won out.
The mattress dipped, gravity urging her toward him. She braced to keep her distance as he bounced and fidgeted and finally settled in, tugging the covers up to his chin.
They lay like guests on Dovion’s table, side by side, breathing shallowly.
After uncomfortable minutes crept by, Jacques finally snorted disgustedly and extended his arm so that it slid beneath her pillow. With a crook of his elbow, she was rolled up against him.
“Better?” he whispered.
She smiled and reluctantly snuggled in, rewarded by a much needed infusion of heat. “Ummm, much. Thank you.” Without giving it a thought, she hooked her arm about his middle and let her knee nudge over the top of his, clinging subconsciously to that solid strength he’d always represented. Threats and fears fell away.
He went very still, then she felt his lips move against her hair.
“You’re very welcome.”
Her skin burned against his, silk and fire. Clothing dropped away, giving him access to those delicate curves and taunting hollows. He’d dreamed of this, of her, but the reality . . . so much sweeter. He hesitated, not sure where to begin, until her hand covered his, leading it to her soft breast. An exquisite handful. Her innocent moan of discovery checked the hungry passion growling through him.
Slow. Gentle. Be worthy of her trust.
She trembled beneath his exploring touch, but didn’t resist it. In fact, the timid parting of her thighs gave him more encouragement than he’d dared hope for.
Opening the way to where both of them knew they shouldn’t go, yet couldn’t quite resist . . .
Her palm lay warm and relaxed upon his neck. Slowly, her thumb, then her index finger, rubbed along the rough line of his jaw, over the part of his lips, lingering until his tongue was teased out to taste her. He sucked on that curious digit, hearing her gasp as he bit down gently.
Her petite figure fit against his side, warm, inviting, pressing tighter into him as he followed the curve her hip with his hand. The dip of her slender waist rising in a tempting flare. The graceful rounding of one buttock. So perfect, so tempting. So . . .
Real.
Not a dream!
Jacques froze, his eyes flashing open to fix upon the soft gleam of Susanna’s gaze. Flickering shut again as she stretched up to kiss him with a smoldering intensity. He went with it, letting her coax him into releasing the desire he felt for her. Slow. Fierce. Powerful.
He didn’t question. He refused to reason. She wanted him and, in the darkness, in the embrace of his bed, that was enough.
He rolled up on one hip to take her in his arms. She gave a tiny squeak as his insistent hard-on jabbed her in the ribs. All at once, that struck him as both funny and unbearably arousing.
“Sorry,” he whispered over her lips. “Can’t do anything about that.”
He drew a quick breath as clever fingers brushed over the bulging front of his gym shorts.
“I can.”
Her husky reply almost made him come on the spot.
The friction from her hand conspired with the silky shift of material until his muscles tensed and strained, until an unstoppable pressure built and throbbed for release.
And at that tenuous instant, she kissed him again, her tongue wetting his mouth before she gave his bottom lip a sudden, unexpectedly sharp nip.
Jacques lost himself in a great shuddering wave.
By the time his senses returned, Susanna lay relaxed beside him, her head on his shoulder, her thoughtful gaze upon his face.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Her contentment confused him almost as much as her words. The unexpected intimacy she’d initiated was over. He wasn’t complaining, just wondering. He smiled, perplexed. “For what?” It wasn’t like she’d given him the chance to follow through.
“For letting me be here with you.”
He’d heard the phone conversation. Though he had questions, he didn’t speak them, instead saying softly as his knuckle brushed her cheek, “Again, you’re very welcome.”
Ten
They’d been in the car for less than a minute.
“So,” Charlotte began in a drawl, “you’re staying with Jacques LaRoche.”
“I am.” No sense in pretending otherwise.
“I seem to recall his place only has one bedroom.”
“It still does.”
After that, the detective’s tone got decided prickly. “He’s one of the best friends
I have, one of the best men I know.”
Susanna said nothing, letting her driver get to the point, which she did with sniperlike directness.
“It’ll piss me off if you hurt him.”
No one seemed terribly concerned that she was the one whose heart might be broken. “There’s no danger of that happening,” she stated with her jaw clenched.
Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at her. Today Susanna wore a pair of black jeans—Nica’s favorite—and a gauzy wrap shirt decorated with colorful beadwork that drew the eye to a rather plunging neckline. The detective smirked.
“You’re attractive, intelligent, and gutsy. I’d say danger ahead.”
“It’s not like I’m bringing him beer and gumbo to seduce him,” she argued. No, that wasn’t what she was doing. Her color heightened.
“He’s a man, and all males of any species like to be flattered and pampered. But that’s not what he’s looking for.” Charlotte let the topic dangle enticingly.
Susanna couldn’t resist snapping at the bait. “What’s he looking for?”
“Someone who’ll take him seriously.”
The answer wasn’t what she expected. But it absolutely made sense. Coming from his background in the North where he was viewed as an object, as a tool with no identity, he’d hunger to make a mark for himself, to garner respect and authority. His greatest fear was to be seen as insignificant.
Susanna took him seriously. She always had. She’d seen the man behind the beast and that’s what forged their connection. Because he’d seen the woman behind the scientist. An exciting and unique first for her.
Because Charlotte’s comment opened the way for more discussion in a direction she couldn’t go, Susanna turned the topic to discover more about Max Savoie. “Is that what your mate was looking for?”
“That, among other things. We support each other.”
Not nearly enough information. “So he’s all right with what we’re doing?”
The exotic-looking detective pursed her lips and admitted, “Not so much. But he’d be a lot more pissed if I hadn’t had the good sense to tell him about it up front. He’s not fond of surprises. That was a hard lesson to learn, but I finally caught on.”
Susanna squirmed, considering the way she was keeping Damien in the dark . . . and was on the edge of betraying a lot more than his trust. “I have a mate and a daughter.”
“Yes, you told me.”
Maybe she needed to remind herself.
Mary Kate Malone was housed in a small care facility. The staff was efficient and motivated to mind their own business by a hefty charitable contribution from Legere Enterprises International, the organization now run by Max. The severely injured nun lingered in her induced coma in a pretty room she would never appreciate, kept alive by pumps and hoses and narcotics. A merciful limbo, Susanna wondered, or a cruel delay of the inevitable?
Charlotte hung back at the door, her features stoic, her dark eyes suspiciously glimmering, while Susanna checked vitals and drew samples.
It was impossible to look upon the pale, hideously disfigured form and not be moved by pity. Working in a lab without actual contact with her subjects had spared Susanna the unexpected sorrow twisting through her now as she saw a vital life wasted.
Could she help this unfortunate woman or would she be raising her level of awareness to one of unending suffering and mental torment? Those kinds of questions never occurred to those she worked with in the North. They only saw results, not consequences.
Susanna covered the motionless fingers resting on pristine sheets and gave them a slight squeeze.
I’ll view you as a person, Mary Kate Malone. I promise. And I’ll see to your interests.
Charlotte had left the room. Susanna found her in a cheerful courtyard filled with plant life and uplifting statuary. Tension fairly vibrated through her posture.
“What do you think?” she demanded without turning.
“I think it’s time for me to get to work.”
Susanna had Charlotte drop her off at the club while the detective took her samples to the lab for Dovion to run. The cavernous space was dark and quiet, but the lingering whisper of Jacques’s scent distracted her from what she needed to be doing. To avoid thinking about what she’d done last night, she considered this morning.
He’d made her breakfast.
The tantalizing smell of vegetables and spicy sausage sizzling had drawn her out of bed where she’d been both disappointed and relieved to find herself alone. She’d dressed quickly, then had stood in the hall for long minutes watching him tend the skillet steaming on a single hot plate.
Hunger growled through her, but that appetite wasn’t for food alone.
Jacques filled the tiny domestic space, all brawny shoulders, tight butt, and bare feet in his half-tucked-in T-shirt and snug jeans. Delicious. Without turning, he’d asked, “How hot do you like it, chere?”
“I’ll take it any way you want to serve it up,” she’d replied, setting a simmering mood at the table they shared.
Even though he didn’t bring up the matter, it was only a matter of time before they sampled more of the temptation between them.
Shaken by that certainty, she forced herself to call Chicago to calm more pressing fears.
“Hello, Damien.” Could he hear the desperation in her voice?
“Susanna, thank goodness.”
The agitation in his tone brought a jump of alarm into her throat. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Pearl.”
A great swooning blackness threatened her senses, but Susanna hung on determinedly. “What’s wrong?”
“Her fever’s back. She’s weak and disoriented and has been asking for you. Susanna, you need to come home.”
Before Pearl, she would never have understood how those few words could turn all her priorities upside down. Her first thought was to wonder how quickly she could arrange for a flight. Her baby needed her. Panic and a deep, cold terror clawed at her, shredding logic.
But only for a moment.
Her baby needed her to be strong.
“I can’t,” she pushed the words out. “I can’t leave just yet.”
Silence, then an aghast, “I can’t believe you’re saying that. Your daughter needs you.”
“My daughter needs rest and fluids and her injections, starting immediately, three times a day. You know how to administer them, and if you can’t be there, arrange for it to be done. She should stabilize within twenty-four hours.” Then Susanna drew a breath and played a card she never thought she’d have to throw down to gain her partner’s compliance. She was of the Chosen. “Damien, my work comes before any attachments. How could you believe otherwise?”
Again, the long pause, but she knew he couldn’t argue against the tenets of their entire belief system. For the many, not the few. The wants of the individual never weighed above the benefits to the all. Never. In theory.
So she concealed her anxiety and personal fears behind that cool, clinical mien of their race, presenting her reasoning the way she would any logical conclusion.
“The research I’m doing is revolutionary. Its benefits far surpass my own selfish wishes. You’ll understand when I’m able to explain the importance to our people.” Then she added, to seal his cooperation, “The importance to our future.”
The silence that followed was calculating, and in that moment, Damien Frost’s integrity took a terrible plunge in her estimation, making her wonder if the reason for his concern was her daughter’s health or her continued defiance. “I look forward to discussing it with you,” he said at last. “By all means, continue.”
Susanna closed her eyes, heart clutching. Damien would care for her child. That was all that mattered for the moment. “I’ll check in every few hours. I should have plenty of time to return if her condition worsens. May I speak to her? It’ll calm her to hear my voice.”
A pause, then a faint little sigh of relief. “Mommy, when are you coming back?”
> “Soon, sweetheart. Soon. Damien tells me you aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine now. I got sick at school and they sent me home. I was making you a picture and I didn’t get to finish it. Damien says I have to stay in bed.”
“You do as he says so you’ll get stronger. You can make me another picture, baby.”
“Can you take it to work with you?”
“We’ll see,” she lied. Personal items weren’t allowed in her facility. No one would think to challenge that rule. They wouldn’t attach any sentiment to a child’s crude scribbling.
Susanna wasn’t like them. And neither was Pearl.
They spoke for a minute longer, Susanna trying to keep the sound of her tears out of her comforting words. Finally, when the child’s voice grew weak and a bit whiny, she wasn’t above a maternal bribe.
“What would you like me to bring home for you that would make you happy?”
“My daddy.”
Susanna had expected her to name some simple childish favorite like picture postcards or colorful bracelets. The shock of her daughter’s request left her speechless.
“Damien’s there with you, Pearl.”
“But he’s not my daddy.” That was confided in a careful whisper.
A chill shook through her. “Why would you say that, baby?”
“Damien said so. He was cross with me because I got some of my numbers wrong. He said if I didn’t work harder I’d be a dummy just like my daddy.”
That chill became a sheet of ice. She struggled to keep her tone buoyant. “Oh, I’m sure you misunderstood, Pearl. We’ll talk about it when I get home, all right?”
Silence, then a quiet admission that fractured her world.
“Damien doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true, sweetie. He’s been very good to us. And he’s very proud of you.”
Pearl didn’t answer, seeing through Susanna’s false gaiety the same way she’d apparently looked into Damien’s heart and read his distaste. And now, so did Susanna.
Why had she never noticed that her partner despised the child fathered by another male? A Shifter male.