Bending the Rules

by Margaret Watson

  “I wish she had told you,” Harley said suddenly. “I loved my mom, but it was always just the two of us. You know? In those pictures in your photo albums, it looked like your family had fun. You did fun things.”

  “Yeah, we did.” Even though running a restaurant was a tiring job, their parents had spent time with them.

  He couldn’t make up for not being there for Harley in the first thirteen years of her life. But he could try to give her some answers. Help her figure out what had been going on in her mother’s head.

  “How about we go on a road trip tomorrow?” he asked impulsively. “We’ll drive down to Champaign, where your mom and I met. I know she had some friends she worked with. We’ll find them and ask them about her. So you can know what she was like before you were born.”

  “You’d do that?” Harley asked, awe in her voice. “Take me to find out about her?”

  “Of course I would.” He hoped he could find some people in his department who remembered Sonya. He needed some answers himself. He’d finally figured out that Harley had been conceived shortly after his parents died—probably on his trip down to Champaign to withdraw from college. But the details were still a blank. “So that’s a yes?”

  “That would be amazing.” Harley sat up straight, eyes shining. “It’s not that far away. I’ve looked at the map.”

  Of course Harley had thought about how her parents met. In most families, that was one of the first stories the kids heard. “It’s a few hours. Little less, maybe. Easy day trip.”

  “And the restaurant is closed tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. So we have as much time as you want.”

  He stopped in the alley and punched the garage door opener. “I’m going to go tell Emma,” Harley said, reaching for the door before he could pull into the garage.

  “Wait,” he said, too sharply. He didn’t want her running through the backyard alone this time of night. Or dashing into the house by herself. “Let’s get the car put away.”

  The moment he turned off the engine, Harley was out of the car. He swung down from the seat and grabbed his cane, once again cursing his weak leg. But he managed to get out of the garage in time to see Harley yanking at the back door.

  “Hold on,” he said. “Emma might be asleep.”

  He could practically hear her eyes roll. “Duh. Emma’s not going to go to sleep until I’m home.”

  The back door opened and a triangle of light spilled onto the porch. “Guess what, Emma,” Harley said as she hurried into the house. “Nathan said...”

  By the time he got in the door and reset the security system, Emma and Harley were in the living room. He set his cane by the door and followed the sound of their voices.

  He was disappointed to see that Emma wasn’t wearing that short robe again. Instead, she wore stretchy black pants that ended midcalf and a sweatshirt. She smiled at him as he walked into the living room. “So. Road trip tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  EMMA TUCKED HERSELF into the corner of the couch, her legs curled beneath her. Two beer bottles clinked together, then Nathan’s footsteps headed out of the kitchen.

  A few minutes earlier, Harley had floated up the stairs on a cloud of excitement and anticipation. Quiet settled on the house.

  Nathan handed her one of the beers, then sat on the couch beside her. “So. Champaign tomorrow,” she said, taking a sip of the cold, yeasty beer.

  “Is that all right? I should have asked you first, but the idea just kind of popped out. Oh, hell.” He closed his eyes. “You have to work. You already told me that.”

  “I’ll take a personal day. This is more important.” For both Harley and Nathan. “It was a good idea. Harley’s excited to see the place where you and her mom, ah, met. And maybe you can find some answers, too.”

  “Yeah, some answers would be good.” He took a long drink of beer and his hand gripped the bottle. “Harley asked why Sonya hadn’t told me about her. I couldn’t answer her. I wanted to be able to.” Another gulp of beer. “She wondered if it was because Sonya thought I wouldn’t like Harley.”

  Emma shot upright. “Oh, God, Nathan. Why would she think that?”

  “Kids think all kinds of stuff in the middle of the night,” he said roughly. “Especially after a parent dies.”

  He’d been there, she realized. Probably had been taken by the darkness himself some nights. Almost certainly comforted his siblings when they woke up crying.

  “We need to get some answers for Harley.” He rolled the bottle between his hands and didn’t look at her. “She needs to know.”

  “We might not find any,” she warned. She hoped they would, for everyone’s sake. Nathan had made it clear he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, but he was making an effort. Doing what he thought was right. It must be killing him that he couldn’t remember anything about his affair with Sonya.

  “Sonya must have moved shortly after Harley was born,” Nathan said.

  “I’m not sure when, exactly, but Harley grew up in Milwaukee. They moved to Chicago after Sonya found out about the aneurysm.” She shifted on the couch to face him. “But there might be people still working in the liberal arts office who remember her.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Nathan said. He edged closer to Emma, set his beer down as if the subject of his relationship with Sonya was done for now. “What did you do all evening?”

  Missed you and Harley. “Nothing. And it was lovely.”

  “You stared at the wall all night?”

  She elbowed him. “I took a bath. Read a book.” She took a drink and smiled at him. “Drank some of the wine that was open in the refrigerator. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” He curled one arm around her shoulder, and its heavy weight warmed her skin and made her heart race. His fingers caressed her shoulder, leaving sparks in their wake, even through the heavy sweatshirt. “Messy house, old wine, leaving you alone for a whole evening? Not a very good host.”

  “The house is fine. The wine was good. And the being alone?” She cocked her head, listened to make sure Harley wasn’t stirring. “It was heaven. I adore Harley. Love having her live with me. But sometimes, I need a little time to myself. She goes to bed before I do, but it’s not the same. I don’t want to watch television because I’m afraid it will disturb her. And...and I haven’t taken any long baths in the evening, because when she was first with me, she had nightmares a lot. I listen for her.”

  “Does she still have them?” he asked. His touch on her shoulder made it hard to concentrate on what he was asking.

  Desire built inside her, and all she could think about were Nathan’s hands. What they were doing to her. “Have what?” she breathed.

  Nathan leaned closer. “Does she still have nightmares?” His breath stirred her hair, and she tried to hide a tiny gasp.

  “Not as...not as much as before.”

  “You’re taking good care of her,” he murmured. He put his mouth on her neck, and everything inside her tightened. He tugged her toward him. “Enough about Harley. Let’s move on.”

  “To what?” she gasped as he sucked lightly on her skin. “Is this the necking portion of the program?”

  “Hmm. Could be.” He licked the spot he’d been sucking. “If you want it to be.”

  She shouldn’t do this. It would lead to nothing but heartache. She was supposed to be thinking about Harley.

  She needed to go upstairs. Alone.

  But her limbs wer
e too heavy to move. Her heart was beating too fast. Nathan was a magnet, drawing her body closer.

  “This isn’t smart,” she whispered. Nathan short-circuited her brain. Made her want. Turned her into a needy woman.

  And that was scary.

  She never turned off her brain and let emotion take over. Never stopped thinking. She always stood off to the side, analyzing. Assessing. Thinking.

  Maybe that was why none of her relationships lasted. Because she dissected them until nothing was left.

  She hadn’t been able to do that with Nathan. Huge warning bells clanged in her head. And still she wanted him. Wanted his hands and mouth on her. Her hands and mouth on him.

  Her fingers itched to burrow beneath that blue dress shirt. She wanted to skim her hands over his chest. Touch his nipples, see if it made him shudder. Taste his skin, feel his muscles tense beneath her mouth.

  She was dangerously close to shutting off her brain and letting go.

  “Define smart,” he said, his mouth gliding over her collar bone. “I want you, Emma. Have since the moment I saw you at FreeZone.” He nuzzled the collar of her sweatshirt, tugged it with his teeth. “I think you want me, too. Do you want me to stop?”

  “Yes.” He froze. Lifted his head, and her whole body shuddered with the loss. “No,” she groaned. She couldn’t bear it if he stopped.

  “You sure?” His trembling hand rested on her shoulder, and he lifted it as if it weighed a hundred pounds. “I need to hear you say it, Emma.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t stop.” She closed her eyes. Felt Nathan’s hand on the hem of her sweatshirt and arched toward him. Pushed the warning voice out of her head.

  “Me, too,” he whispered. “I can’t focus on anything besides how much I need to touch you. Taste you.”

  She ached for that, too, for his hands on her skin. Needed to touch him, as well. “Please, Nathan.”

  His fist tightened around her sweatshirt. “I’m begging, too, Emma.” His hand slipped beneath the shirt, splayed against her belly. Hot. His mouth was on her neck again, leaving a trail of kisses to her ear. She shifted restlessly.

  “More, Emma?” His breath tickled her ear, lifted strands of hair.

  “Yes!” She barely recognized the harsh cry as her own voice. Her hands were on his chest and she didn’t remember putting them there. His dress shirt was warm from his skin, still smelled faintly of starch. She tugged it out of his slacks, and he froze.

  Desire burned away the haze of caution, the voice of reason. She touched his skin, felt his muscles tense. Felt them quiver as she explored, letting her hands creep higher until the soft hair on his chest tickled her palms.

  “More?” Nathan’s voice was hoarse. Barely controlled. His breath rasped in and out too quickly.

  “Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded like a moan.

  He touched her ribs, one at a time, tracing their contours, and his fingers trembled when she gasped. He skimmed his palms up her sides, over her skin. Brushed the backs of his hands beneath her breasts, barely touching them.

  “Emma.” He curled his hand around her side as his mouth covered hers. “You’re not wearing a bra.” His words vibrated against her lips.

  “Took a bath,” she managed to say. “Didn’t think...” How could she have known she’d need a barrier to slow down her desire, keep it from burning out of control?

  “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned into her mouth.

  He cupped her breasts in his hand, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. She inhaled sharply, then held his head and kissed him, holding nothing back. Their tongues tangled and retreated as he stroked her, until she was trembling and they were both panting.

  Her clothes felt too tight, her skin too sensitive. She wanted to rip off the sweatshirt, the yoga pants, then strip Nathan’s shirt and pants from his body. Feel his skin against hers.

  A door creaked open above them, and they froze. Footsteps padded into the bathroom; the door closed.

  She jerked away from him, shocked. “Harley’s awake. What were we thinking?”

  He smoothed the sweatshirt down over her hips. “No thinking involved.”

  Her heart galloped in a hard rhythm and her body yearned for his. She slid her hands beneath her thighs to stop their shaking. “I always think, Nathan,” she whispered. “Never leap. You’re...this...it’s a little scary.”

  “For me, too.” He looked at her hands, tucked beneath her legs. “I didn’t plan on feeling this way, either.”

  The toilet flushed in the bathroom and the door opened again. Footsteps going the other way. Harley closed her bedroom door.

  “I need to go upstairs.” She swallowed. “Alone.” She looked at him again and...yearned. “I don’t want to, though.”

  “Me, either,” he murmured. Before she could stand up, he kissed her again. “I’ll see you in my dreams.”

  As she headed up the stairs, she paused and looked over her shoulder. Nathan was still watching her, his eyes dark, his mouth red.

  She’d be seeing him in her dreams, as well.

  * * *

  NATHAN’S PALMS WERE sweaty as they parked in a garage near the Illini Union the next morning. He hadn’t been back to the University of Illinois since that disastrous May fifteen years earlier, and a lot had changed.

  A lot was still the same, though. Same buildings surrounding the quad. The Union stood at the north end, stately and serene. The Alma Mater statue welcomed everyone to the campus. He felt as if he’d time-traveled, going back to a place that was eerily familiar yet totally different.

  The last time he’d been here, he’d been part of the community. He’d taken classes in most of these buildings. He’d known all the campus stores, too many of the bars.

  Now? He was an outsider. A visitor, looking for information instead of an education. The students hurrying past them were so young. So full of hope. They had their whole futures in front of them.

  Him? All he had were the memories of his years as a student, the regret that he’d needed to leave. When he’d been a student here, he’d been free. Had the whole world in front of him.

  The loss of that boy, of his innocence, hit him without warning, leaving a hollowed-out spot in his chest. It had all started here, with a frantic, sobbing phone call one evening.

  Since he’d left, his life hadn’t been his own. It had been a sacrifice for his family. He glanced at Harley out of the corner of his eye. Did he want to make that sacrifice again?

  Ghosts from the past swirled through the wind as he, Emma and Harley crossed Green Street and started down the sidewalk. The cold, fierce wind he remembered hit their faces.

  “So you went to college here, huh?” Harley’s voice yanked him back to the present. Her head swiveled back and forth, taking in the buildings, the students with their backpacks hurrying to class, the rare cyclist in the bike lane on Wright Street.

  “Yeah. Spent four years here.”

  “I like it.” She grinned happily. “I’ve never been to a college before.”

  “Maybe someday you can follow in your father’s footsteps,” Emma said. “You can come here yourself.”

  He glanced at his daughter. Maybe Harley could finish what he couldn’t. Maybe she’d have control of her life. Her destiny.

  He hoped so.

  Harley studied him, and he couldn’t read her expression. “That would be awesome.”

  The idea of his daughter attending the same school he had made
his chest tighten. “I’ll start a college savings account,” he said.

  “Sonya had one,” Emma said quietly.

  “Then I’ll add to it.” He didn’t want his kid graduating with a mountain of debt.

  Emma smiled. “That sounds good.”

  She’d been quiet on the ride down. He had been, too. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the way she’d kissed him last night, as if she had to have her hands on him. The way she’d gripped his shirt so tightly. The tiny sounds she’d made when he touched her.

  Last night, he’d thought of nothing but Emma. Not the restaurant mess. Not Harley. Not his trip to Italy.

  Soon beat like a drum in his head. Soon they’d have the time to explore each other. The time to discover what drove the other crazy. The way they liked to be touched. Kissed. Last night had been merely a taste. A beginning.

  His need for Emma burned in his blood. He had to stop himself from taking her hand and pulling her closer. Maybe next weekend he’d see if Harley could spend the evening with Marco at the restaurant. She’d had a good time last night. She probably wanted to do it again.

  They’d passed Lincoln Hall by the time he realized where they were. “It’s that building.” He pointed behind them.

  “You forget where you went to school?” Harley said.

  “Just thinking about stuff, I guess.” He couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Emma. Her face was pink and she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She was thinking about stuff, too.

  He pushed open the door to Lincoln Hall, where the Liberal Arts office was located, and followed Harley and Emma into a memory—the drafty coolness, the smell of dust and old varnish and the flicker of overhead lights. “We want the second floor.”

  When they reached the administrative office, he approached the receptionist. She looked up from the history textbook she’d been reading.