by Nora Roberts
Her blood began to stir. Deliberately, Liz pushed her wine aside and rose to go to the stove. “We all make decisions at certain points in our lives, realign our priorities.”
“I have the feeling you did that a long time ago.”
“I did. I’ve never regretted it.”
That much was true, he thought. She wasn’t a woman for regrets. “You wouldn’t change it, would you?”
Liz continued to spoon chili into bowls. “Change what?”
“If you could go back eleven years and take a different path, you wouldn’t do it.”
She stopped. From across the room he could see the flicker of candlelight in her eyes as she turned to him. More, he could see the strength that softness and shadows couldn’t disguise. “That would mean I’d have to give up Faith. No, I wouldn’t do it.”
When she set the bowls on the table, Jonas took her hand. “I admire you.”
Flustered, she stared down at him. “What for?”
“For being exactly what you are.”
8
No smooth phrases, no romantic words could have affected her more deeply. She wasn’t used to flattery, but flattery, Liz was sure, could be brushed easily aside by a woman who understood herself. Sincere and simple approval was a different matter. Perhaps it was the candlelight, the wine, the intimacy of the small kitchen in the empty house, but she felt close to him, comfortable with him. Without being aware of it happening, Liz dropped her guard.
“I couldn’t be anything else.”
“Yes, you could. I’m glad you’re not.”
“What are you?” she wondered as she sat beside him.
“A thirty-five-year-old lawyer who’s just realizing he’s wasted some time.” He lifted his glass and touched it to hers. “To making the best of whatever there is.”
Though she wasn’t certain she understood him, Liz drank, then waited for him to eat.
“You could fuel an engine with this stuff.” Jonas dipped his spoon into the chili again and tasted. Hot spice danced on his tongue. “It’s great.”
“Not too hot for your Yankee stomach?”
“My Yankee stomach can handle it. You know, I’m surprised you haven’t opened a restaurant, since you can cook like this.”
She wouldn’t have been human if the compliment hadn’t pleased her. “I like the water more than I like the kitchen.”
“I can’t argue with that. So you picked this up in the kitchen when you worked at the hotel?”
“That’s right. We’d take a meal there. The cook would show me how much of this and how much of that. He was very kind,” Liz remembered. “A lot of people were kind.”
He wanted to know everything—the small details, the feelings, the memories. Because he did, he knew he had to probe with care. “How long did you work there?”
“Two years. I lost count of how many beds I made.”
“Then you started your own business?”
“Then I started the dive shop.” She took a thin cracker and broke it in two. “It was a gamble, but it was the right one.”
“How did you handle it?” He waited until she looked over at him. “With your daughter?”
She withdrew. He could hear it in her voice. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I wonder about you.” He kept the tone light, knowing she’d never respond to pressure. “Not many women could have managed all you’ve managed. You were alone, pregnant, making a living.”
“Does that seem so unusual?” It made her smile to think of it. “There are only so many choices, aren’t there?”
“A great many people would have made a different one.”
With a nod, she accepted. “A different one wouldn’t have been right for me.” She sipped her wine as she let her mind drift back. “I was frightened. Quite a bit at first, but less and less as time when on. People were very good to me. It might have been different if I hadn’t been lucky. I went into labor when I was cleaning room 328.” Her eyes warmed as if she’d just seen something lovely. “I remember holding this stack of towels in my hand and thinking, ‘Oh God, this is it, and I’ve only done half my rooms.’” She laughed and went back to her meal. Jonas’s bowl sat cooling.
“You worked the day your baby was born?”
“Of course. I was healthy.”
“I know men who take the day off if they need a tooth filled.”
She laughed again and passed him the crackers. “Maybe women take things more in stride.”
Only some women, he thought. Only a few exceptional women. “And afterward?”
“Afterward I was lucky again. A woman I worked with knew Señora Alderez. When Faith was born, her youngest had just turned five. She took care of Faith during the day, so I was able to go right back to work.”
The cracker crumbled in his hand. “It must have been difficult for you.”
“The only hard part was leaving my baby every morning, but the señora was wonderful to Faith and to me. That’s how I found this house. Anyway, one thing led to another. I started the dive shop.”
He wondered if she realized that the more simply she described it, the more poignant it sounded. “You said the dive shop was a gamble.”
“Everything’s a gamble. If I’d stayed at the hotel, I never would have been able to give Faith what I wanted to give her. And I suppose I’d have felt cheated myself. Would you like some more?”
“No.” He rose to take the bowls himself while he thought out how to approach her. If he said the wrong thing, she’d pull away again. The more she told him, the more he found he needed to know. “Where did you learn to dive?”
“Right here in Cozumel, when I was just a little older than Faith.” As a matter of habit she began to store the leftovers while Jonas ran water in the sink. “My parents brought me. I took to it right away. It was like, I don’t know, learning to fly I suppose.”
“Is that why you came back?”
“I came back because I’d always felt peaceful here. I needed to feel peaceful.”
“But you must have still been in school in the States.”
“I was in college.” Crouching, Liz shifted things in the refrigerator to make room. “My first year. I was going to be a marine biologist, a teacher who’d enlighten class after class on the mysteries of the sea. A scientist who’d find all the answers. It was such a big dream. It overwhelmed everything else to the point where I studied constantly and rarely went out. Then I—” She caught herself. Straightening slowly, she closed the refrigerator. “You’ll want the lights on to do those dishes.”
“Then what?” Jonas demanded, taking her shoulder as she hit the switch.
She stared at him. Light poured over them without the shifting shadows of candles. “Then I met Faith’s father, and that was the end of dreams.”
The need to know eclipsed judgment. He forgot to be careful. “Did you love him?”
“Yes. If I hadn’t, there’d have been no Faith.”
It wasn’t the answer he’d wanted. “Then why are you raising her alone?”
“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Anger surged as she shoved his hand aside. “He didn’t want me.”
“Whether he did or didn’t, he was responsible to you and the child.”
“Don’t talk to me about responsibility. Faith’s my responsibility.”
“The law sees things otherwise.”
“Keep your law,” she snapped. “He could quote it chapter and verse, and it didn’t mean a thing. We weren’t wanted.”
“So you let pride cut you off from your rights?” Impatient with her, he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode back to the sink. “Why didn’t you fight for what you were entitled to?”
“You want the details, Jonas?” Memory brought its own particular pain, its own particular shame. Liz concentrated on the anger. Going back to the table, she picked up her glass of wine and drank deeply.
“I wasn’t quite eighteen. I was going to college to study exactly what I wanted to study so
I could do exactly what I wanted to do. I considered myself a great deal more mature than some of my classmates who flitted around from class to class more concerned about where the action would be that night. I spent most of my evenings in the library. That’s where I met him. He was in his last year and knew if he didn’t pass the bar there’d be hell to pay at home. His family had been in law or politics since the Revolution. You’d understand about family honor, wouldn’t you?”
The arrow hit the mark, but he only nodded.
“Then you should understand the rest. We saw each other every night in the library, so it was natural that we began to talk, then have a cup of coffee. He was smart, attractive, wonderfully mannered and funny.” Almost violently, she blew out the candles. The scent carried over and hung in the room. “I fell hard. He brought me flowers and took me for long quiet drives on Saturday nights. When he told me he loved me, I believed him. I thought I had the world in the palm of my hand.”
She set the wine down again, impatient to be finished. Jonas said nothing. “He told me we’d be married as soon as he established himself. We’d sit in his car and look at the stars and he’d tell me about his home in Dallas and the wonderful rooms. The parties and the servants and the chandeliers. It was like a story, a lovely happily-ever-after story. Then one day his mother came.” Liz laughed, but gripped the back of her chair until her knuckles were white. She could still feel the humiliation.
“Actually, she sent her driver up to the dorm to fetch me. Marcus hadn’t said a thing about her visiting, but I was thrilled that I was going to meet her. At the curb was this fabulous white Rolls, the kind you only see in movies. When the driver opened the door for me, I was floating. Then I got in and she gave me the facts of life. Her son had a certain position to maintain, a certain image to project. She was sure I was a very nice girl, but hardly suitable for a Jensann of Dallas.”
Jonas’s eyes narrowed at the name, but he said nothing. Restless, Liz went to the stove and began to scrub the surface. “She told me she’d already spoken with her son and he understood the relationship had to end. Then she offered me a check as compensation. I was humiliated, and worse, I was pregnant. I hadn’t told anyone yet, because I’d just found out that morning. I didn’t take her money. I got out of the Rolls and went straight to Marcus. I was sure he loved me enough to toss it all aside for me, and for our baby. I was wrong.”
Her eyes were so dry that they hurt. Liz pressed her fingers to them a moment. “When I went to see him, he was very logical. It had been nice; now it was over. His parents held the purse strings and it was important to keep them happy. But he wanted me to know we could still see each other now and again, as long as it was on the side. When I told him about the baby, he was furious. How could I have done such a thing? I.”
Liz tossed the dishrag into the sink so that hot, soapy water heaved up. “It was as though I’d conceived the baby completely on my own. He wouldn’t have it, he wouldn’t have some silly girl who’d gotten herself pregnant messing up his life. He told me I had to get rid of it. It—as though Faith were a thing to be erased and forgotten. I was hysterical. He lost his temper. There were threats. He said he’d spread word that I was sleeping around and his friends would back him up. I’d never be able to prove the baby was his. He said my parents would be embarrassed, perhaps sued if I tried to press it. He tossed around a lot of legal phrases that I couldn’t understand, but I understood he was finished with me. His family had a lot of pull at the college, and he said he’d see that I was dismissed. Because I was foolish enough to believe everything he said, I was terrified. He gave me a check and told me to go out of state—better, out of the country—to take care of things. That way no one would have to know.
“For a week I did nothing. I went through my classes in a daze, thinking I’d wake up and find out it had all been a bad dream. Then I faced it. I wrote my parents, telling them what I could. I sold the car they’d given me when I graduated from high school, took the check from Marcus and came to Cozumel to have my baby.”
He’d wanted to know, even demanded, but now his insides were raw. “You could have gone to your parents.”
“Yes, but at the time Marcus had convinced me they’d be ashamed. He told me they’d hate me and consider the baby a burden.”
“Why didn’t you go to his family? You were entitled to be taken care of.”
“Go to them?” He’d never heard venom in her voice before. “Be taken care of by them? I’d have gone to hell first.”
He waited a moment, until he was sure he could speak calmly. “They don’t even know, do they?”
“No. And they never will. Faith is mine.”
“And what does Faith know?”
“Only what she has to know. I’d never lie to her.”
“And do you know that Marcus Jensann has his sights set on the senate, and maybe higher?”
Her color drained quickly and completely. “You know him?”
“By reputation.”
Panic came and went, then returned in double force. “He doesn’t know Faith exists. None of them do. They can’t.”
Watching her steadily, he took a step closer. “What are you afraid of?”
“Power. Faith is mine, she’s going to stay mine. None of them will ever touch her.”
“Is that why you stay here? Are you hiding from them?”
“I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect my child.”
“He’s still got you running scared.” Furious for her, Jonas took her arms. “He’s got a frightened teenager strapped inside of you who’s never had the chance to stretch and feel alive. Don’t you know a man like that wouldn’t even remember who you are? You’re still running away from a man who wouldn’t recognize you on the street.”
She slapped him hard enough to make his head snap back. Breathing fast, she backed away from him, appalled by a show of violence she hadn’t been aware of possessing. “Don’t tell me what I’m running from,” she whispered. “Don’t tell me what I feel.” She turned and fled. Before she’d reached the front door he had her again, whirling her around, gripping her hard. He no longer knew why his anger was so fierce, only that he was past the point of controlling it.
“How much have you given up because of him?” Jonas demanded. “How much have you cut out of your life?”
“It’s my life!” she shouted at him.
“And you won’t share it with anyone but your daughter. What the hell are you going to do when she’s grown? What the hell are you going to do in twenty years when you have nothing but your memories?”
“Don’t.” Tears filled her eyes too quickly to be blinked away.
He grabbed her close again, twisting until she had to look at him. “We all need someone. Even you. It’s about time someone proved it to you.”
“No.”
She tried to turn her head but he was quick. With his mouth crushed on hers she struggled, but her arms were trapped between their bodies and his were ironlike around her. Emotions already mixed with fear and anger became more confused with passion. Liz fought not to give in to any of them as his mouth demanded both submission and response.
“You’re not fighting me,” he told her. His eyes were close, searing into hers. “You’re fighting yourself. You’ve been fighting yourself since the first time we met.”
“I want you to let me go.” She wanted her voice to be strong, but it trembled.
“Yes. You want me to let you go just as much as you want me not to. You’ve been making your own decisions for a long time, Liz. This time I’m making one for you.”
Her furious protest was lost against his mouth as he pressed her down to the sofa. Trapped under him, her body began to heat, her blood began to stir. Yes, she was fighting herself. She had to fight herself before she could fight him. But she was losing.
She heard her own moan as his lips trailed down her throat, and it was a moan of pleasure. She felt the hard line of his body against hers as she arched under him, but
it wasn’t a movement of protest. Want me, she seemed to say. Want me for what I am.
Her pulse began to thud in parts of her body that had been quiet for so many years. Life burst through her like a torrid wind through thin glass until every line of defense was shattered. With a desperate groan, she took his face in her hands and dragged his mouth back to hers.
She could taste the passion, the life, the promises. She wanted them all. Recklessness, so long chained within, tore free and ruled. A sound bubbled in her throat she wasn’t even aware was a laugh as she wrapped herself around him. She wanted. He wanted. The hell with the rest.
He wasn’t sure what had driven him—anger, need, pain. All he knew now was that he had to have her, body, soul and mind. She was wild beneath him, but no longer in resistance. Every movement was a demand that he take more, give more, and nothing seemed fast enough. She was a storm set to rage, a fire desperate to consume. Whatever he’d released inside of her had whipped out and taken him prisoner.
He pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. His heartbeat thundered. She was so small, so delicate. But he had a beast inside him that had been caged too long. He took her breast in his mouth and sent them both spinning. She tasted so fresh: a cool, clear glass of water. She smelled of woman at her most unpampered and most seductive. He felt her body arch against his, taut as a bowstring, hot as a comet. The innocence that remained so integral a part of her trembled just beneath wanton passion. No man alive could have resisted it; any man alive might have wished for it. His mouth was buried at her throat when he felt the shirt rip away from his back.
She hardly knew what she was doing. Touching him sent demands to her brain that she couldn’t deny. She wanted to feel him against her, flesh to flesh, to experience an intimacy she’d so long refused to allow herself. There’d been no one else. As Liz felt her skin fused to his she understood why. There was only one Jonas. She pulled his mouth back to hers to taste him again.
He drew off her slacks so that she was naked, but she didn’t feel vulnerable. She felt invulnerable. Hardly able to breathe, she struggled with his. Then she gave him no choice. Desperate for that final release, she wrapped her legs around him and drew him into her until she was filled. At the shock of that first ragged peak, her eyes flew open. Inches away, he watched her face. Her mouth trembled open, but before she could catch her breath, he was driving her higher, faster. She couldn’t tell how long they balanced on the edge, trapped between pleasure and fulfillment. Then his arms came around her, hers around his. Together, they broke free.