Love's Own Reward

by Dana Ransom

  You’ll do just fine, Charlene Carter.

  Yes, Jess, I will, she vowed.

  Tomorrow everything in her life would be different. The woman who appeared before the public would not be the retiring research assistant content to hide in her lab coat behind data sheets. She would be leaving her safe, responsible career to embark on—an adventure. She had the means to do whatever she wanted, to become whatever she wished. And what she wanted and wished for couldn’t be bought, even with every last penny of her reward. She wanted Jess Mc-Masters. At least worrying about him kept her from fretting about the ceremony the next day. One could only dwell on one terror at a time, and standing up before a crowd of strangers was a peripheral fear. A lifetime without Jess, now that was a consuming panic.

  It was nine p.m., pitch dark, and storming with a spring fury outside. Charley finally realized the futility of hanging around willing the phone to ring. She got Robert settled on her pull-out sofa; he’d decided to stay over rather than brave the weather, and she was grateful not to be alone. Then she took a long, hot shower, scrubbing as best she could with her tender hands before letting the beat of the water ease away her tension. Bundled in a thick, fleecy robe, she was about to try to seek sleep when a knock at her door was almost muffled by fearsome thunderclaps.

  He was drenched. Water ran in rivulets over the leather of his jacket and plastered his hair down like slick, dark satin. From that rain-streaked face, his gaze was banked with a stormy intensity. Without a word he reached inside his coat and drew out his toothbrush, issuing her the most fragile smile she’d ever seen. Her heart melted. With the whisper of his name, she was in his arms, hugging his wet exterior, warming the bleak interior. And the only thing that mattered was getting him inside, inside her apartment, inside her body.

  “Hey, Jess,” Robert called cheerfully from the living room. “I was about to head out to pick up a movie and a couple of cold ones. Anything you guys want to see?” He looked from one to the other, noting that their sight seemed limited to each other. Then he frowned as they walked right by without a glance. “Well . . . don’t mind me.”

  They didn’t. And he was alternately grumbling and grinning as he plodded out into the rain, wondering how long it was supposed to take him to find a video. At least a good hour, he decided diplomatically.

  Charley paused to snatch a towel out of the bathroom. Jess stood quietly in the shadows of her bedroom and let her pat his wet hair dry. Then allowed her to remove his damp clothes, piece by piece, never altering the intense, absorbing study of her face. The hurried rhythm of his breathing made her rush, cursing her clumsy fingers as she wrestled with buttons and his belt buckle. Then everything slid free and she stood, trembling with want. She went nearly limp when his hands tugged at the belt of her robe, sweeping it off her shoulders with the determined brush of his palms. Her eyes half shut as those big, gentle hands cupped her face. She leaned in for his kiss. But it didn’t come. Instead, he used the piercing force of his stare to penetrate heart and soul.

  “I couldn’t stay away.” His voice rumbled, as rough and volatile as the storm outside. She nodded, helpless in her understanding. “Make me believe, Charley.”

  With that he carried her to the bed.

  Jess dropped down upon her, without any teasing overtures, without any preparatory gestures. She had time for a small gasp as he grabbed her right knee and shoved it high, coming into her so hard and full that she was literally pinned to the mattress. No fancy stuff. No frills. Just hard, deep thrusts that ripped her passions raw and had her hanging on for dear life. If that time in the kitchen had been an earthquake, this was Armageddon. She arched off the bed, her fingers clawing the covers, clenching in his hair. She buried her face against the side of his neck, crying out in muffled tandem with the thunder of his pulse beats. Wave after wave of cataclysmic sensation spasmed through her. Thoughts of Jess, of existence itself, were lost in that surge of completely self-absorbing pleasure.

  Finally a basic sort of functioning returned. She gathered awareness with a dreamy reluctance. Only the thought of seeing Jess made the struggle worthwhile.

  His face was inches from hers, His eyes were tightly closed, his lips parted to accommodate the quick, gusty rattles of breath. She expected to find the harsh, lean lines gone from his expression, but they weren’t. His features were rigid, screwed up into an agony of control. When he opened his eyes to look down into hers, the burning intensity was still there but steeped with something else so powerful it made her shiver. Then he lowered to kiss her, and she knew what it was. Yearning. Sweet, simple yearning. Oh. Jess, her soul sighed, I won’t disappoint you.

  He held her for a long time, cradling her in his arms, touching her with little strokes that were as soft and searching as his kiss had been. From the other room there was the quiet sound of Robert’s return and the murmur of the television. Charley curled silently against Jess, trying to pretend he was shaking because of the explosive union they’d shared, trying to attribute the damp runnels on his face to the rain, trying to dismiss his taut quivers of breathing to exhaustion.

  She was lying to herself.

  “I love you, Jess,” she said with a quiet conviction. She heard him inhale raggedly and felt hard tremors convulse down his arms. He said nothing.

  She waited until she was sure he slept before easing out of his embrace. Once in the privacy of the bathroom, bathed in the cold light of reality from its single bulb over the sink, she let go and sobbed miserably into her hands.

  FIRST HIS SISTER’S weeping, now this. Robert rolled irritably off the sofa bed, wishing he was sleeping anywhere other than with his head close to the bathroom wall. He scuffled around the corner and chose to omit the formality of knocking.

  Jess was on his knees, hugging the toilet bowl. His face was hanging so dangerously low over the blue-tinted water that his labored breathing rippled the surface.

  “Man, oh, man,” Robert muttered as he ran cold water on a washcloth. “Can’t a guy get any sleep around here?”

  With a colossal groan Jess lifted his head, letting it rest on one of his forearms. His haggard face was ashen, as pale as the porcelain bowl, and his hair was spiked darkly above it. He looked like hell. Slowly he forced open red-rimmed eyes to stare dully at Charley’s brother.

  “Kind of an odd time and place to be praying, don’t you think?”

  Jess would have sworn at him if he’d had the strength. Instead, he let his eyes sag shut and waited wretchedly for the pain to arc to its gut-tearing crescendo again.

  “You all right?”

  “Will be in a minute,” he mumbled faintly. “Get outta here. This isn’t a spectator sport.”

  “Hey, I’ve seen worse. Wouldn’t want you to drown.”

  “Funny man. Robert, anyone ever tell you you’re a real pain in the—oh God!” His head dropped back into the basin. He retched up sounds as if something industrial-strength were replumbing his insides, while Robert knelt, grabbing him by the back of the neck to keep him from falling in. They rode out the ravaging spasms together to their graphic end. Then Robert eased him over to slump limply against the tub.

  “Man, Jess, that’s one impressive ulcer. Looks like a gutful of coffee grounds.”

  “Spare me the details, please,” Jess moaned weakly.

  Robert flushed those details and dropped the lid, assuming a seat on it. “How long has it been bleeding like that?”

  “Comes and goes.” His legs shifted restlessly against the gnawing cramps. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’m not going to die.”

  “Just feels like it, huh?” Ignoring the irritable grumbles, Robert blotted the cool washcloth over Jess’s sweat-beaded features. “Charley know your insides are Swiss cheese?”

  “No, and don’t go telling her. She has enough to worry about.”

  “And what’s got you worried enoug
h to tear your gut open, Jess? Something I should know about?”

  That inquiry almost got Jess to spill everything. At the last second a boring pain had him clamping his lips together with the truth inside. Robert watched him for a long minute, knowing something was very wrong with the whole situation but liking McMasters too much to press it.

  Sixteen

  “WHAT’S THIS?”

  Jess looked into the glass Charley handed him, suspicion creasing his brow.

  “Milk,” she told him crisply. “Drink it.”

  “Milk?” He looked at the other two cups brimming with steaming dark coffee and frowned. “I don’t want this,” he growled, setting down the glass and reaching for a mug. He looked at her in surprise when Charley rapped his knuckles.

  “No coffee,” she said in a tone of stern authority. “That’s about the worst thing you could put in your stomach. I want you to eat at least every three hours all day today. I bet you didn’t have anything after breakfast yesterday. You have to take better care of yourself.”

  Jess stared at her, disbelieving, then shot a severing look at her brother. “Thanks a lot, Robert,” he ground out.

  “No problem, Jess,” he returned with an untroubled grin.

  Surly as a bear with his aching gut and raw temper, Jess shoved back his chair and stalked to the kitchen sink. Charley gave a cry of warning.

  “Jess McMasters, don’t you dare pour that down the drain!”

  He swung around on her, glass poised, expression taut. “Who the hell appointed you my mother? If I want a cup of coffee, I’m going to have a cup of coffee. If I want a whole goddamn gallon, I’ll have a whole goddamn gallon. I don’t need any lectures from you, Charley. Save your do-gooder crusades for the rest of the world.” And with that he upended the glass.

  Charley didn’t say anything. Her eyes welled up in silent dismay, making him feel lower and infinitely more disgusting than what Robert had flushed down the toilet the night before. Without a word she rose from her chair and left the room. Robert shouldered by him on his way to the refrigerator.

  “You’re a real sweetheart, McMasters. Should have let you drown.”

  He was drowning now, in the churn of stomach acid, in the riptides of remorse. He muttered a foul suggestion at Robert’s rigid back, then reached by him to jerk out the carton of milk. He refilled the glass and added enough coffee to give the illusion of something palatable. And he trod lightly into the living room after Charley. He didn’t see Robert smirking behind his back.

  She was standing at the sliders, arms wrapped about herself in an isolating gesture. When he brushed his cheek against her hair, she flinched away. When he nuzzled the side of her neck, she struck back with an elbow. She gave an ornery sniff and wiggled out of his attempted embrace.

  “Look, Charley. See. Glass of milk. I’m drinking it.” He took a tentative sip.

  “I don’t care what you do with it,” she flung back at him, but the minute he took the glass from his lips, she added, “All of it.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He finished it and was aware of a twofold relief. His stomach quieted and Charley relaxed against him.

  “I’m sorry I fussed at you,” she muttered contritely. “I’m used to dealing with petulant children who won’t do what’s good for them. I had no right to scold you.”

  “Fuss all you like. I give you the right.” He didn’t mention that he had been acting like a bratty child. He rubbed his rough cheek against hers, letting the sense of contentment build and warm him. “I love you, Charley.”

  That was all it took. She revolved in his arms, twining hers about his neck to hang on tight. He held her easily, loving the feel of her, just loving her. She stepped back and placed her palms on either side of his jaw. Her dark-eyed stare was a simmer of sincerity.

  “I just can’t bear the thought of anything hurting you.”

  She saw the shift in his expression, the almost imperceptible softening of his mouth, the smoothing of the lines around his eyes. And for one glorious moment she saw trust there.

  “You like French toast, Jess?” Robert hollered from the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” he called back distractedly. He lifted his thumb to trace the curve of her cheek.

  “With confectioner’s sugar?”

  His interest was coaxed away from her by slow degrees. “And cinnamon. That’s how I always make mine.”

  “Ummm. Sounds good.”

  Charley gave a snort and pushed off Jess’s chest. “I feel like I’m caught between a pair of Julia Childs on steroids.”

  “We’d be starving if we depended on you, Charley,” Robert declared sweetly.

  “Maybe I’d better go give him a hand,” Jess suggested, glancing toward the kitchen.

  “Oh, by all means, you boys have fun playing with my appliances. I don’t know what half of them are used for anyway.”

  Jess seized her by the shoulders, jerking her to his chest. His rumble was husky with promise. “I can show you all sorts of interesting things you can do with kitchen utensils. Later.”

  He kissed her hotly and she melted like the butter on her brother’s skillet. And all through breakfast she was distracted, wondering what use they could come up with for her whisks and spatulas.

  THE CIVIC AWARD ceremony was set for three p.m. with a buffet reception to follow. Charley rode over with Jess. Robert followed in his car because Jess was afraid he’d have to leave early because of his class and didn’t want them to be stranded. Charley couldn’t help but smile at Jess’s cautious, defensive driving. Nothing like the Chicago madman. He was quiet, having said little since they started getting ready. He’d brought over a change of clothes in his car and looked absolutely delicious in a jewel-toned sweater and dark slacks. She had a terrible time concentrating on the study of her speech when he was sitting beside her so neatly groomed and smelling good. He told her with a glance what he thought of her appearance. His eyes smoldered, probably envisioning silk beneath her crisp, tailored suit. She couldn’t wait to get him back to her apartment. When he pulled up at the auditorium and came around to open her door, she realized how long a wait that would be.

  “Jess,” she called softly.

  When he bent down to see what she wanted, she caught hold of his jacket and dragged him inside the car, sliding over to accommodate him on the passenger side.

  “You’re going to get all smudged,” he muttered against the press of her mouth.

  “Smudge me,” she insisted.

  Happy as he was to comply, he was still careful to put his hands where they would do no visible damage. He slid them under her jacket, cupping her breasts, using his thumbs to excite rigid little peaks of desire where they wouldn’t show. He drew seductively on the impudent tongue she thrust into his mouth until she moaned with impatience.

  There was a loud smack on the roof of the car. Jess jerked upright, smashing his head against the rearview mirror.

  “Hey, you two, cut it out. For God’s sake, save it for a motel.”

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be an only child?” Jess muttered as he backed out, hauling Charley with him. He made a display of brushing down her jacket and skirt, letting his hands linger over the curve of her bottom. He glanced at Robert and growled softly, “Get lost for a minute.”

  Robert grinned, unoffended. “I’ll save you a seat inside.”

  When he’d ambled off, Charley leaned against Jess’s chest, expecting more of the same, but he was no longer smoldering. He was very serious. He straightened her collar and pushed wisps of her hair back from her face, the gestures so tender that she could easily have dissolved on the spot. His thumbs brushed over the diamonds she wore in her earlobes, and he smiled slowly, somberly.

  “Charley, I wanted to tell you how very proud I am of you.”

  “Oh, Jess,” she s
ighed, wanting to reach up to kiss him. But he wasn’t finished.

  “I just wanted you to know and to try to understand that I’m showing it the best way I know how. I love you, baby. You mean the whole world to me.”

  He did kiss her then, softly with a delicate, chill-raising stroke of his tongue along her upper lip. Then he took her arm in his and drew a deep breath. “Ready?”

  “If you are.”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied with a strange melancholy. Then he escorted her inside.

  THE ROOM WAS packed. As Jess predicted, a good portion of those in attendance sported press passes. As the crowd surged up around Charley, he felt her recoil, sinking into his side, and all his protective instincts went off like warning sirens. With a firm grip on her elbow, he used his own body as a buffer, clearing those in their path away with a sweep of his arm as if they were overgrown brush. He kept his head down, his face turned toward Charley, watching her as much as shielding himself, searching for any telltale signs of distress. But she wasn’t that frightened little thing he’d shielded at the hospital. She may have been intimidated by the sheer press of bodies, but she didn’t look scared. She was smiling, fielding questions with quick answers like a pro and hanging on to him as if her life depended on their not being separated. That he didn’t mind at all.

  “Miss Carter?” A tall, distinguished-looking gentleman approached through a part in the crowd. Jess recognized him. There weren’t many who lived in and around the Detroit area who weren’t familiar with Benjamin Osgood. When Charley responded with a smile, Osgood took her free hand. Cameras flashed and Jess shrank lower into the collar of his coat.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Osgood,” Charley was saying. Now she was pulling at Jess’s arm, bringing him about to face the flare of bulbs. “And this is my—” She broke off awkwardly. Her what? How could she explain what Jess was to her? He was everything.