She had never done this for him before— waited at his house, fixed him a late meal. During the week, with each early morning in the offing, it was too impractical to consider driving back to Cambridge at such a late hour. This was Friday night, however, and playing house was as much a genuine treat as it was a novelty.
Despite Nia’s protestations that she could drive herself, Daniel insisted that she leave her car at his house and returned her to Cambridge himself. It was one-thirty. The hours had flown by amid gentle talk and shared thoughts. He had promised to pick her up for breakfast—a final breakfast before the team left for its six-game stint on the West Coast. That, in itself, was a subtle form of tension, an anticipated loneliness. It was also, however, a stark reminder to Nia of the importance of keeping that last physical barrier in place, much as she abhorred it more as each moment together passed. Once they became lovers—if they became lovers—these separations would be devastating. Hers was the voice of experience.
The silence between them was particularly tangible that night as they rounded Soldier’s Field Road and the Harvard Stadium to cross over the Longfellow Bridge into Harvard Square. It was the more scenic route he had chosen, as though he, too, was prolonging their time together. They sailed easily through the square and on down Brattle Street, finally turning in at Nia’s street. Signs of distress were everywhere.
“My God, there’s a fire!” she exclaimed, wondering which of her unfortunate neighbors had been hit. The end of the road—her end— was a confusion of red lights and blinkers, totally blocked off by fire engines and police cars, making it necessary for Daniel to park at a distance. Nia jumped from the car to be hit by the acrid smell of burning that permeated the air. There was no sign of either flame or smoke, though; whatever the problem, it was apparently under control.
Daniel was right beside her, taking her hand. “Let’s take a look. If there’s been a fire at the house next to yours I don’t know if I like the idea of you—”
“Daniel!” she shrieked, at last seeing the object of the firemen’s powerful floodlights. “It’s mine! Oh, my God …!”
“Come on.” He tightened his grip. “We’ll see what’s happened.”
Less than an hour later they were headed back toward Weston, barely able to assimilate what they had seen and learned through conversations with the firemen. As Nia shook her head slowly the passing street lights lent a flickering sheen to her hair. “Thank goodness he’s all right!” she cried shakily. “Material loss is one thing. If Dr. Max had been hurt it would have been so much more horrible. As it is…” Her voice trailed off in dismay.
Daniel kept the car at a steady clip. “Fortunately he woke up in time and had the presence of mind to get out of the house. At his age he could well have become disoriented. It’s a miracle that the flames hadn’t spread to the front room where he’d fallen asleep. The entire back of the house was involved before he woke up.” He sighed. “According to what the fireman said, he feels guilty as hell….”
“Pipe ash,” she half-sobbed. “I never even knew he smoked a pipe.”
“From what his daughter told them, he never did. Not regularly, at least. He had an old collection of them. Must have decided to have a smoke on some kind of crotchety old whim. When he didn’t care for the taste he knocked the ash into the wastebasket. That’s all it takes—a few tiny bits of glowing tobacco and a basket full of crumpled paper. It was slow to start, but once it caught, it went!”
Nia gave a low moan of helplessness, then began to tremble uncontrollably. As if his words had not been vivid enough, the smell of destruction clung to her clothes and, even more bitterly, her memory.
“Everything, Dan. Everything’s ruined!” she cried in abject misery. “What am I going to do?” It was an overwhelming thought, that of rebuilding from scratch.
“For starters, babe, you’re going to keep calm and cool.” His voice, as if in example, was level and reassuring, its tranquilizing effort enhanced by the sure hand that encompassed hers and brought it to rest on his thigh. “You’re going to stay at my place—”
“Daniel, I can’t do that!”
“You can. And you will. Tomorrow—er, today—we’ll go out and get you some clothes to wear. Monday morning you can talk with your insurance company. Little by little you can replace what you’ve lost.”
“I can’t believe this! Any of it!” Despite what he had said and his deliberate attempts to calm her, she felt near hysteria. Nothing like this had ever happened to her—this sudden, completely unexpected, utterly total loss. “I’ve got nothing left but the clothes on my back. The house…it was home for more than ten years….”
“I know, babe. I know.” He brought her hand to his lips and breathed his warmth onto her chilly skin. “Everything will work out. Believe me, it will.”
But she wondered. The prospect of the immediate future suddenly terrified her. She felt lost, uprooted, floundering in an instant limbo. If she had felt any numbness at the scene of the fire, the last of it had worn off by the time they reached Daniel’s house. He insisted that she sit down while he poured her a snifter of brandy, then sat with her to make sure she drank it all. It helped, steadying her some, easing the queasiness she’d felt in the pit of her stomach.
“I still can’t believe this,” she repeated in a whisper, shaking her head, burying her face in her hands.
Reaching for her, Daniel drew her against his strength, holding her with arms that were steady and sure. “It’ll take a while, Nia. It’s understandable that you should feel in shock.”
“That’s an understatement,” she breathed against his chest, inhaling the richness of his manly scent as a counterpoint to that other, harrowing one. “Do you think that anything will be salvageable?”
“I don’t know, babe.” He absently stroked her upper arm, rustling the silk of her blouse against her skin. “The fire reached the roof at the back of the house. I doubt there’s much worth saving there. As for the front, what wasn’t touched by flame is probably damaged by either smoke or water.” Tucking in his chin to look down at her, he grew more stern. “I don’t want you going over again…until I get back.”
Nia met his gaze in disbelief. “But you’ll be gone for nearly ten days! I’ve got to go—”
“No, you don’t. I have a friend. Actually, Peter is the brother-in-law of our trainer, Hickey Simms. Peter is a handyman-carpenter of sorts…and he has a truck. I’ll call him later and he’ll go to the house. I trust him to remove anything that’s worth saving or fixing. You let the insurance adjuster go there by himself. When I get back I’ll take you over— it’s far too upsetting for you and there’s absolutely nothing you can accomplish by going there at this stage. Insurance claims take time, as does the emotional healing from this kind of upset.”
Overcome by sudden lethargy, Nia couldn’t argue. Daniel had taken over and she was half-glad to let him do so. The thought of her house, now a mass of charred ruins, sent a chill through her that even the brandy could barely control. Daniel was right. The mess they had seen tonight had been obscured by the dark; in the harsh light of day it would be that much more traumatic for her. Perhaps she did need time to gradually accept the reality of it all.
“Come on, babe.” He coaxed her to her feet, having studied her despairing expression long enough to convince him that she needed something, preferably rest. “I think you ought to go to bed—”
“—I don’t think I can sleep.”
“You can try.” As he talked he led her down the hall, past his own bedroom to the guest room just beyond. “The bed is already made up.” His deft hand flicked back the coverlet. “Wait here. I’ll get something for you to wear.” In an instant during which Nia did not so much as blink, he was gone and back, bearing what was obviously the top to a pair of navy blue pajamas. “The bathroom’s got towels; there are extras in the vanity below the sink.” He held her gaze with a tenderness, born of worry, that touched her even through her silent anguish. “Why don’t you
take a long, hot shower?” He smiled. “It will help you relax.”
“Maybe I will,” she whispered, her eyes infinitely sad. “And …Daniel …?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks…”
“For what?”
“For…being here. For…taking charge…helping me.”
In the wake of her soulful expression a fierceness flashed across his features, his torment comparable to hers.
Shoulders bowed beneath his own burden, he stepped back. “I’m…glad I was here,” he murmured, then turned and with a raspy “good night” left the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.
Given the events of the evening, Nia was unable to focus on the long-range implications of Daniel’s frustration. Visions of smoke and flame permeated her mind. And neither the brandy nor Daniel’s valiant attempts at encouragement was able to stem her stubbornly self-renewing sense of shock. She felt totally helpless, empty and alone. More than anything, she wished that Daniel would have stayed with her. But…that was absurd! He was simply next door!
Following his suggestion, she stripped and doused herself beneath the restorative spray of the shower, washing away the imaginary grime left by the destruction of her home. The cleansing of her body was, however, a simple matter compared with that of her mind. The vision of her past, her security, her home, was suddenly and irreversibly marred.
Her feet left faint imprints on the plush pile of the almond-colored carpet as she walked back into the bedroom wearing nothing but Daniel’s pajama top. With rolled-up sleeves and falling to mid-thigh, it would have been an adequate night shirt had it not been for the image it conjured up of another body filling it. Frustrated, she stood before the mirror to comb her fingers through the layers of her hair, pushing it here, then there, then frowning in dissatisfaction.
A soft oath escaped her as she threw herself on the bed to lie there for no more than a minute before she bolted up again. Her body was cool, yet it flamed. Her mind was a mass of grief overshadowed by a need that grew greater and greater. She paced the floor. She stopped. She slumped into a chair. She stood up. She thrust her fingers through her hair, then hung her head and paced some more. Finally she came to an abrupt halt.
Her material past had been wiped out. Was it symbolic? Damn it, she needed him. Was she wrong to fight the welling ache? She desired him. She loved him. Was it wrong to go to him? But he had been the one to stop short in the past. Would he turn her away again?
Debate was pointless. Her need had far exceeded the value of hashing and rehashing what was right or wrong. Nia only knew that at this moment she could not stay in this room, alone. Daniel was her only hope.
Driven by a determination stronger than any she’d ever felt, she whirled and headed for the door, drawing it quickly open and entering the hall. Daniel’s door was open; his light was on. But he was nowhere in sight.
Her heart beat madly as she followed the hall toward the living room. There, silhouetted against the glass, he stood, his back to her, his hands on his hips, his head bowed with emotion. Whether it was anger, frustration, sadness, or simply exhaustion she didn’t know. And there was only one way to find out.
On silent feet she approached, fighting against the incipient trembling that his appearance had sparked. He was a lean mountain of gleaming flesh, bare skin from shoulder to hip and then again from thigh to toe. He wore nothing but a dark pair of shorts, the bottoms to her tops, if her guess was correct. The dampness of his body suggested that he, too, had just emerged from a shower. He was, even in the darkness, every bit as magnificent a male creature as she had imagined him to be.
“Daniel?” she whispered from just behind him.
His head turned toward her, a damp swathe of hair falling across his brow. Then he looked away. “What are you doing, Nia?” He was angry.
“I need you, Dan.”
He gritted his teeth. “Damn it, Nia. You’ll only be hurt!”
“I’ve already been hurt. Now I need you.” Her hand wavered in the air close to his back. His body warmth lured her palm and she lowered it, touching the firmness of his flesh. It was all she could do not to cry out at its beckoning strength.
Daniel stiffened for an instant, shooting her another sidelong glance. His eyes reflected the moonlight; they held more vehemence now than anger. “I have to leave today. Do you know what that means? I can’t be with you. I can’t be here when you need me. Is that what you want?”
“I want you…now.”
“But what about tomorrow? And the next day…or week…or month? You’ve been through this, Nia. I can’t promise you anything!”
Closing her eyes, she moved against his back, wrapping her arms around his rock-hard middle and laying her cheek against his skin. Its vibrancy enhanced her own determination. Nothing he could say would change her mind.
“I hear everything you’re saying, Dan, but I need you.” She tightened her arms about him, spreading her fingers over his ribs. “I want you. Please…please don’t send me away.” There was no pleading in her voice, simply an expression from the heart. Responding to it, he turned in her arms, looking down at her with far greater tenderness.
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me to turn away from you time and again? Do you have any idea what I want, babe?”
“Is it all that different from my need, Dan?” she asked, her eyes filled with the ache that she felt so deeply.
He seemed to grow more fierce before her eyes. “No, perhaps it isn’t. It’s every bit as demanding and all-consuming. And every bit as futile.” His tone softened. “Don’t you see, babe,” he murmured sadly, “I didn’t ask for you, either! I didn’t ask for this wanting and needing. And I don’t know what in the hell to do about it!”
Nia ran her hands through the matted coarseness on his chest and felt the warm, pulsing beat of his heart. “Can’t we just have now, this minute, this simple beauty, regardless of any future?” His texture fascinated her, capturing her gaze. She breathlessly admired the endless expanse of flesh, its well-formed muscle, its strategically placed furring. Driven by a burning deep within, she leaned against him and put her lips to that heated plain. His arms closed instinctively behind her.
“Oh, babe,” he rasped out his agony, “I do want you.”
“Then take me!” she cried, desperate at last. “Do it!”
With a force as close to violence as he had ever come, he gripped her face in the vise of his hands and forced it upward. His eyes pierced hers in the darkness, surging into her trembling soul, searching for the answer to his anguish. It was there.
With a moan of surrender he crushed her lips beneath his, yielding to a pent-up hunger that devoured with the ferocity of that initial burst of released desire. She barely had time to gasp for air when he swept her off her feet and into his arms, cradling her protectively as he strode down the hall to the room with the low light, his room.
As though the first flurry of emotion had relieved him of that utter urgency, he laid her down amid the disarray of his sheets with a renewed gentleness. There was an animal sensuality about him as he slowly stretched out against her on the bed. Nia gasped at the beauty of his body, exploring the sturdiness of his arms and shoulders, the swell of his chest, as she had never had the freedom to do before.
He kissed her more tenderly then, parting her lips for the sweeping invasion of his tongue. Nia met it and offered it her essence, winding her own around it in an instinctive dance that was only the start of the mating she craved. She arched toward him, needing far more than his kiss, feeling his greater need, hard and strong against her. In that instant, wanting to give him everything, she deeply resented the night shirt he had so gallantly given her earlier.
They were well attuned to one another. Reading her thoughts, Daniel sat up, panting, and steadied himself as he drank of the passion-glow in her cheeks. Her eyes held the undisguised, sweet violet joy of anticipation that expressed far more than the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Nia waited, watched, silently loved him with every fiber of her being until he finally moved his hand to the top button of her shirt and released it. There was a second, then a third, each widening, lengthening that strip of ivory flesh, his to adore. She had never remembered wanting a man like this, had never remembered needing to be touched so badly. The years had given her a maturity that added to every ounce of her appreciation.
With the final button Daniel pushed the dark fabric aside. His hands trembled under the strain of control, the effort toward a leisure that denied the thrust of his own aching need. She felt the cool air for an instant until the fire of his gaze began its descent, warming her throat, each breast in turn, her middle, her legs, the completeness of her naked beauty.
“Oh, Nia…” He barely managed a scratching whisper as his hands traced the journey his eyes had just completed. “Nia…”
As ever, her level of self-control was much lower than his. In his presence she forgot all else. There was neither her work nor his nor that nightmare of destruction they had both witnessed earlier. There was only Daniel, in the firm, virile flesh, moving toward her.
“Daniel,” she moaned, and when his fingers found her, she arched herself against them in dire need. “It seems that I’ve wanted you so very long,” she begged raggedly. “Please…hurry…”
He moved back, then straightened and skimmed her cream-soft length again. His eyes smoldered with the deep fires of yearning that this woman had lit in him; he, too, had waited forever. With slow deliberation he dropped his hands to his waistband and lowered his shorts.
The male perfection of him was nearly more than Nia could bear. He was an athlete from top to bottom, leanly masculine, vibrantly hard. Courting warnings of imminent explosion, she scrambled to kneel on the bed before him. There was so much to touch—he was so supremely, masculinely beautiful.
And she did touch him, stroking the lines of his body, caressing the sensitive points that he couldn’t deny. At last she knew the full measure of the power that she held over him.
Fast Courting Page 17