Love's Own Reward

by Dana Ransom

  “No.” He bolted to his feet, jerking out of her embrace. One short step brought him to the patio door. He pressed his palms and forehead to the cold, damp pane, eyes closed, senses shattered. He could barely speak through the clog of emotion in his throat. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear it. Not tonight. Because you’re not going to be able to tell me the same thing a week from now.”

  Shaken by his absolute certainty, Charley made her reply firm with an equal confidence. “You’re wrong, Jess. I’ll love you a week from now. I’ll love you years from now. That’s not going to change.”

  He rolled his head from side to side, discarding her vow. He didn’t argue. He just gave up. And that put a deep panic in her heart. That fear made her say things that perhaps weren’t the wisest under the circumstances, but she’d spent a lifetime holding her feelings inside and had been miserably alone. It was time to gamble on the straight, undiluted truth.

  “I love you, Jess McMasters, and I’m going to spend the rest of my days and nights telling you that.”

  He shook his head again, and she wanted to scream at him in frustration. “It’s not going to happen, baby. You don’t know how impossible that is.”

  “I know all I need to know. I know you’re a grouch in the morning. I know you drive like a maniac and curse like a sailor on leave. I know you like your coffee black and your loving hot. What else is there?”

  He gave a low, raw laugh and rolled so his back leaned against the glass door. His features were stark with sorrow. His smile was a curl of cynicism. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

  She stood to face him. Her eyes glittered like the stones in her ears. “No. I’m not smart. I’m scared. I’m scared of losing the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  “Me?” He laughed again. It was a self-deprecating sound. “Oh, baby, that’s a bad deal. What do you want with a dried-up would-be writer with a gutful of ground glass and a heart that’s been broken too many times to heal? I’m nothing you want to mess with, Charley. You need someone who still has something to give. I’m all used up. Sure, it was fun pretending for a while. I even got to believing that maybe—” He sighed and gave that empty smile again. “I’m too old for fairy tales, and you’re too naïve to see the truth. I’d just drag you down.”

  “That’s crap, Jess, and you know it. I’m tougher than that. You were the one who showed me what I could be.”

  “But I’m not. I’m not tough. I’m an eggshell, baby, ready to crack. And I can’t go through that again. I’m sorry. I can’t. I won’t.”

  She started to reach out to him, then gave an impatient curse. Jess frowned when she began tugging off the wrappings on her hands.

  “Hey, don’t do that. You’re not supposed to do that.”

  “Shut up, Jess. Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” She dropped the bandages to the floor and flexed her fingers. There was a slight itchiness and discomfort as the new pink skin pulled. The healing process was almost complete, and she was anxious to test the result. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

  He flinched as her fingertips touched his jaw, then held himself rigid as her palms stroked over his face. His breathing had altered to a faint shiver.

  “Don’t push me away. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let you down.”

  He sighed raggedly and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I know you wouldn’t mean to, Charley. It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve spent my whole life not quite living up to what the people I loved wanted from me. I can’t set myself up like that again. I couldn’t stand seeing you disappointed. I can’t wait around for that.”

  “But I don’t want anything from you. I want you.”

  “You want something, Charley. You want me to be some saint, some super-nice guy. Don’t lay that kind of load on me. I can’t carry it off. You don’t need me. Baby, you have it all, everything you’ve ever wanted. And you’ll do fine. I know you will. I just got you on your feet. You don’t need me to hold your hand anymore.”

  Her fingers slid up into his hair, gripping, forcing his head to tip down. But his gaze slid right by to study the floor.

  “Thanks for the memory and see you around. Is that it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And I don’t have anything to say about it?”

  “No.”

  Let it go, Charley. Please. Jess was hanging on by his fingernails. There was an awful gnawing pain in his belly and a sharper one teething on his heart. If she didn’t cut him loose, she was going to kill him. He didn’t believe for one damn minute that she was going to stick by him once that article came out, but part of him wanted desperately to suck up every second from now until then, overdosing on the drugging sweetness of her love. As long as he didn’t have to see the devastation in her eyes when it was over.

  Crazily he wondered if it was possible to keep the article from her. She professed to not being worldly when it came to news. Maybe she would never see it. Maybe it would all blow over, and things could be good for them.

  Yeah, right. Who are you fooling, Jess? Every minute you spend with her in a lie is going to grind her trust just that much farther into the ground. It’s too late, buddy. You lost your chance. You lose, sucker.

  “I gotta go.”

  He didn’t look up, but he felt a tremor run clear through her. Slowly her hands lowered, trailing reluctantly along his jaw to his chin and then falling away. He’d almost started to breathe again when she winded him with the unexpected.

  “Can I ask you just one thing before you go?”

  Relief that all would be soon behind him made him sloppy. “Sure.”

  “Did you ever love me, Jess?”

  “Oh God,” he moaned. “Just cut my heart out, why don’t you.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  He raised his head, his gaze just a tad slower until it fixed on hers with an intensity that stole her breath. So many things crowded that silvery stare that she couldn’t begin to sort through them. But first and foremost was a lean, savage kind of wanting that gave her the strength to stand her ground. She knew his answer even before he spoke it, low and whiskey-warm.

  “Yeah, I love you, Charley Carter. So damn much I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to get over you.”

  She swallowed down the chest-crushing tenderness and asked simply, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you just spent one day at a time trying to learn to trust me? I mean, if you’re going to be miserable anyway, why not prolong the goodness of what we have for a while? A day or two. A week. A couple of months. Who knows, years could slip right on by. And someday you won’t even remember a time when you didn’t believe with all your heart that I would never hurt you.”

  A long second passed. Then a faint smile touched his lips. Charley smiled back, trying to ease the terrible tightness in her throat. Suddenly she needed to be close. Both palms fit flush to his chest and moved gradually upward. The sensation was more glorious than she’d imagined. And she swore to herself that she would never stop until she’d erased the uncertainty lingering behind his poignant smile. For today, she had. And the feeling of success was so sweet. She let one hand cup behind his head to coax him down to where their lips met, lightly, slowly, with a tentative hope.

  “Day by day, huh?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  “I can try to live with that.”

  HE HADN’T LET go of her even in sleep.

  Charley woke feeling surrounded, protected, loved. And it filled her with such throat-aching wonder that she didn’t move for the longest time. Not that she could with Jess wrapped around her in a tangle of arms and legs. They hadn’t made love after she led him back into her bed, and somehow that made waking within his possessive embrace all the more precious in her heart. Because suddenly this chaste closeness had become as important as the intimate
contact of the night before.

  She absorbed the warmth radiating from the man beside her like a solar panel starved for energy. The more heat she drew, the more powerful she felt. The more sure she’d done the right thing. And it was right for her and Jess. All she had to do was hang on and love him out of his doubts. Because without him the rest of it—the money, the independence, the sudden confidence, the closet of designer labels, the new face and hair—was somehow an empty fantasy. He made it real. He made her believe things were possible. The outward things altered appearance, but Jess McMasters had altered her reality.

  She studied the features turned toward her in sleep. Just looking at him made everything swell shut inside her. There was something so vulnerable about him in the unconscious state, quickening all her tender instincts. But she wasn’t completely fooled. This sweet-faced man with his dark morning stubble was the most dangerous and disruptive influence her life had ever known. For him, she was taking risks the sane and sensible Charlene Carter of a month ago would have considered terrifying madness. She was building an entire future around his faith in her inner strength. He’d reached down into her timid soul to drag out that ability. He’d wrapped himself around her heart and made it beat with the potential of dreams. He’d stirred in her spirit an excitement and a sense of self that had been missing for long years of quiet dedication to the lives of others. And he had only himself to blame for her tenacity now. She may not have needed him to make her future plans a success, but she wanted him. With a fierceness that overpowered logic, with a desire that conquered fear. If he could breathe life back inside her, she could do the same for him. And if she had to endure the anxious uncertainty of taking it day by day, she would. She would heal the scars on his heart if she had to go minute by minute, second by second. Because Jess McMasters was worth it. Even if he didn’t quite believe it. Yet.

  Enough ruminating. She needed to start in on some positive fussing. She might not be up to a gourmet breakfast in bed, but she could supply coffee with a Maalox chaser. Now all she had to do was escape the sensual chains of his embrace.

  Cautiously she began to withdraw her leg from beneath his. The image of pick-up sticks almost choked a laugh out of her, but she swallowed it down. Feet free, she started to ease his arm off the indentation of her waist. It was as if she’d tripped a trap. He jerked. His arms cinched around her convulsively. With a mutter that could have been endearment or curse, he burrowed his face just above her breasts, abrading her skin with his rough chin and her heart with his quiet sigh. She loved him so much at that moment that it was a physical pang. She gave in to the luxury of holding him, of playing gently with his rumpled hair, aware of her steeping fury for those who had conditioned him to be so hard on himself. No one would hurt him like that again. Not if she had any say in it.

  She brushed her lips lightly across his brow. “Jess?”

  “Ummmm.”

  “Turn over.”

  Obligingly he let her go and rolled to his other side, taking most of the covers with him. Charley smiled. He was a selfish son of a gun in his sleep. She gave him one last lingering look, then headed for the kitchen.

  It was strange how his presence permeated her apartment. Bits and pieces of him were scattered all over with a casual intimacy that warmed her to the core: his leather jacket draped over the back of the couch, his sweater folded on the breakfast bar, the I. Magnin jewelry box still on the table, his loafers angled by the door, his phone by the patio slider. It was a comfortable, comforting presence. One she wanted to be permanent. She refused to be intimidated by her inexperience or by the enormity of what she was trying to do. She’d brought something wild and wounded into her home, into her heart, and there was a definite possibility she could end up torn to shreds. But there was also a chance that she could have everything she desired and dreamed of. There was no way to fairly weigh the one against the other. Not when she considered the rewards.

  IT WAS LIKE RADAR. The moment she knelt beside the bed, Jess’s nose turned toward the cup of coffee in her hand and twitched at the rich, dark scent.

  “Good morning, baby,” Charley crooned. She let her fingers scrape along his bristly cheek while teasing him with the aroma wafting from the cup. With great pleasure she watched him struggle to consciousness. He pushed off the covers, freeing his arms for a limbering stretch, then rubbed his hands over his face to scatter the groggy dregs of sleep. His piercing eyes were dull as he blinked and finally focused on her face.

  “Hi.”

  It was a low rumble so bedroom sexy it curled her toes.

  “I brought coffee to tame the savage beast.”

  His mouth curved softly. “Thanks.” As he dragged himself up to a half-sitting position against the headboard, Charley climbed onto the bed and straddled his denim-clad thighs. Interest piqued, he played with the hem of the T-shirt she was wearing.

  “Isn’t this mine?”

  “All of its yours.” She let that linger, seeing him process it in the still-foggy banks of his brain. “What would you like first?”

  Jess glanced longingly at the coffee, then he reached for the cup and the back of her neck at the same time. He drew her down for a leisurely kiss, one that was sleepily sensual. Just when it began to arouse all sorts of possibilities, Jess nudged her out of the way with a bump of his head so he could go for the coffee. He drank deeply and sighed deeply. “Ummm. Good coffee. Good kiss. Helluva way to start the day.”

  “Breakfast of champions,” she returned with a saucy wiggle of her hips.

  Jess took another sip, letting his thumb rub along the inside of her thigh in distracting circles. “Something on your mind, Charley?”

  Yes, there had been, but at that moment his traveling hand ran out of smooth road and began to explore other byways. Coherent thought was impossible.

  “No silk today?” he teased quietly.

  “It’s—it’s all in the wash.” She tried to pull together some degree of cognitive thinking around the surges of sensation making her legs tremble.

  “And you weren’t by any chance hoping that I liked to do laundry, were you? Because sorry to say, I don’t do clothes. I pay dearly and willingly to stuff them in a bag, drop them off, and pick them up the next day all neatly folded. And I don’t do floors or windows or the bathroom unless I absolutely have to.”

  “So much for keeping you on as a housekeeper,” she gasped between quick rhythmic breaths.

  “I have other good stuff on my resume.”

  “Ummm. You sure do.” Sanity surfaced for a brief second. “Writing. You’re a writer. I wanted to ask—to ask if you’d help me with my speech for tomorrow.”

  Jess went suddenly still. Left hanging by a sensory thread, Charley nearly collapsed on him. She wasn’t so dazed that she couldn’t recognize the purposeful distance in his gaze. And it brought her down to earth with brutal abruptness.

  “I don’t know, baby,” he was saying. The words were evasive, the tone was not. “I’ve got to be going pretty soon.”

  “Going . . .”

  He saw the anguished disbelief tighten her expression and was quick to allay it. He continued with his caressing seduction and forced an easy smile. “Home. You know, where I live, where I get my mail and water my plants. I need a shave and some clean clothes, even though I haven’t spent all that much time in these this weekend. I have to check my machine and put some junk together for my Monday class. Just stuff. No big deal.”

  No big deal? She wasn’t convinced. Something had jerked him off course a second ago, but she was afraid to ask outright. Afraid he would tell her he was having second thoughts about what they’d discussed last night. Then what would she do? Disgrace herself and embarrass him by falling to pieces?

  “You can come along if you want.” He said that very softly, so sensitive to her insecurities it made her want to weep. As much as she longed t
o accept, she didn’t. She had to let him go and trust him to come back. After all, she was demanding a hell of a lot of faith from him. If he said it was no big thing, she owed it to him to believe.

  “No. I have things to do, too. Even if they aren’t quite as appealing as spending time with you.”

  “Well, hey, I’m not gone yet.” And he proved it by intensifying his touch. She moaned and let her head drop back as he taunted her toward an excruciating level of response, watching her with a look that was all too calm and smug. How dare he lean back sipping coffee and making conversation while driving her into a shattering frenzy.

  Abruptly she shifted back, breaking the connection between his hand and her throbbing pleasure points. In answer to his questioning look, she said tartly, “You are entirely too relaxed, McMasters.”

  “What can I say? I’m a laid-back kind of guy.” He gave a slow, provoking grin.

  “Is that so?” She reached for the waistband of his jeans, never losing contact with his eyes. He maintained his mocking half-smile and the simmering suggestion of amusement in his stare even as she lifted up and settled down over him. He shut his eyes for an instant, breath catching, body tensing, then he was grinning at her again.

  “Yeah, that’s so.” He was daring her to prove otherwise.

  It grew to be an interesting point of challenge between them. Charley rocked against him with a slow, tormenting stroke, trying her darnedest to knock his confidence for a hard loop while holding out against the insistent forays of his touch. But the combined sensory assault was too much. Feeling the shivers of weakness building around him, Jess was wickedly pleased.

  “Ready to say uncle?”

  She was ready to say anything.

  Except a sudden knocking on her front door interrupted.

  “Alan.”

  Jess’s choice of terms was all-inclusive. He was quick to grab on to her knees, holding her fast. “Does he have a key?”

  “A key? No.”

  “Then let him knock.”

  There was the sound of a click and the front door opening.