He waited for Janet to finish her cookie. "What do you think?"
"About how they look or how they taste?"
"Either—both."
She picked up another cookie and studied it. "They look like hockey pucks, but they taste great. What did you do to them?"
"You mean why are they so dark?" When she nodded, he told her. "I mixed cocoa in with the flour."
"Clever idea. It gives them a double chocolate taste."
"Thanks," he said with no attempt at modesty. "I've been working hard to improve my cooking lately, and not many people have noticed."
"For any special reasons?" She took another bite. "Improving your cooking, I mean, not the no one noticing part."
He laughed. "Besides self-defense?"
"I'm surprised you don't have someone who does your cooking for you."
"What would I ever do with a cook on The Promise!" He twisted around to put the now empty tray back on the nightstand.
Here we go again, she thought. There were times when she felt they were speaking different languages. "Just what is it with you and this promising business you're always talking about?"
He turned back around to look at her, an eyebrow raised in question. "What did you have in mind?" But his thoughts weren't on her answer—they were on the incredible fact that she was actually in his bed, sitting there beside him with nothing on but a blanket. She had pulled the comforter up to her chest when she sat up to eat, leaving her shoulders and the creamy skin above her breasts bare—an enticement that destroyed every other thought.
He bent over and touched the gentle swelling that rose above the blanket with his tongue, capturing a cookie crumb. Warming to his task, he found another and then nudged the blanket lower with his chin as if to search for more. "We have to be careful these don't wind up in the bed," he murmured.
"I understand," she breathed, letting the delicious feel of his touch spread all over her and warm her like sunshine after a week of rain.
Leisurely he moved the blanket lower, paying careful attention to the newly exposed skin, luxuriating in her anticipatory sighs. When he had completely uncovered her breasts, he took first one and then the other nipple into his mouth, caressing them to responsive peaks. Slowly he traced a moist line of fleeting kisses down to her navel. As he started to move lower, Janet reached out to stop him.
"I… uh…" She tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly gone dry. "I don't think…" Her words died when he gave her a devastatingly intimate smile that made her ache for the pleasure his kisses had promised.
"Good," he said, his voice husky with desire, "I don't want you to think—I want you to feel." His hand slid down her hip and across the flat of her belly to her inner thighs. When he felt her resist, he gently coaxed, "Let go, Janet. Let me love you in every way I know how. Let me give myself to you in every way that I can."
Subconsciously she responded to his words and stopped fighting him. Unerringly he found the place that ached to be touched, and she took the first step on a sensuous one-way journey.
Several hours later, they were still in bed. It was dark outside when finally they broke down and acknowledged that it was time to talk about returning to San Francisco. They had spent those idyllic hours in the world of lovers, one that had been finely focused on only themselves. Slowly they were coming to know each other, discovering birthmarks and scars and telling birthdays and secrets. The one thing they purposely avoided talking about was when and where they would see each other again. Still, the unanswered question persisted, an open wound neither knew how to heal.
It wasn't until they were back at Eric's house in San Francisco that anything was said. Janet had walked around the car to get in the driver's side, and Eric had taken her into his arms to kiss her good-night. "I told myself I wouldn't ask," he said, his cheek buried in the softness of her hair, "but is there a chance I could see you tomorrow?" He was anxious to show her The Promise. He was anxious to make love to her again. He was anxious to spend another day telling her of his love…
Her heart sank. It was beginning already. "Amy and Brian will be back tomorrow."
"Amy and Brian?" Who in hell were Amy and Brian?
"Carol's kids." Surely she had told him how she earned her room and board.
"Who's Carol?"
Obviously she hadn't. As succinctly as possible, she told him about Amy and Brian and Carol.
For the first time, Eric felt a sense of despair creep into his conviction that they could work things out. He had figured their one ace in the hole would be his ability to take off an occasional afternoon so they could meet for a few hours after her classes. Her news about living with someone and baby-sitting for them destroyed that possibility. Finally he understood what she had been trying to tell him. "Then I guess you'll call me when you can work something out?" Despite his attempts to hide it, a note of deep frustration crept into his voice.
"Eric… I tried to tell you."
"I know you did."
"Surely you don't think this is any easier on me?"
Responding to her defensive tone, he pulled her close. "No, my beautiful, stubborn Janet, I don't think you will sleep any easier at night than I will." Somehow, some way, he was going to have to convince her to let him help.
Her fight disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she relaxed in his arms. "Oh, Eric… what if we wind up hating each other?"
He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "Do you honestly think that's possible?"
"You forget, I've been this route before. Only with Robert, what we had died such a slow uncomplaining death that we were shocked to find it gone."
He lowered his lips to hers and gave her a kiss that demanded she recognize the special thing that was happening between them, and it was unlike anything that had ever happened to either of them before. "Stay with me tonight," he said, suddenly unwilling to let her go now that he knew it might be weeks before they had any real time to spend together again.
She was sorely tempted, not only to stay that night, but the next and the next. "I can't," she sighed. "Amy fixes me breakfast on Sunday mornings. How would I ever explain…"
As much as he wanted her to stay, he liked the idea that she felt an obligation to a six-year-old girl who thought it a special treat to fix her friend breakfast. Obviously Janet was a person who cared for children.
"Come on." He lightly kissed her forehead and reached for the car door. "It's already later than I think it's safe for you to be driving home alone."
She suppressed a smile. Eric was going to take some getting used to. For over three years she had been the sole decision maker in every aspect of her life. Having another opinion to deal with might prove difficult at times. "I thought we went through this once already," she gently scolded. "But if you like, I'll call you when I get home to let you know I arrived safe and sound and in one piece."
"That's a great idea. Do you have this number?"
She had only been kidding. "Are you serious?"
"Weren't you?"
"Sure…yeah, I guess I was." She didn't have the heart to tell him differently. She dug a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse and wrote down the number.
When she was inside the car and had her seat belt in place, Eric bent down and gave her a kiss that she felt all the way down to her toes. "You sure know how to make it hard to leave," she breathed.
"I don't want you to forget me."
"Fat chance."
He stood in the driveway, watching until her tail-lights disappeared around the corner before picking up the picnic basket, opening the front door and going inside. He put the basket in the kitchen, then went into the study to pour himself a brandy. Purposely not turning on the lights, he wandered over to the window to watch the late-night traffic on the bridge. A frustration more profound than any he had ever known before gripped his stomach. He had thought himself clever to give in so easily to her refusal to accept his help, thinking there would be plenty of opportunity to work
on her. Now he found he was in a catch-22 situation— without the time off she would have if she let him help her financially, he would never get the chance to talk her into letting him help her.
For once the breathtaking beauty before him failed to bring him peace, and he wandered away from the window as depressed as when he arrived.
9
Janet looked up from her cornflakes to see Carol staring at her. She had lived with Carol long enough to know she had not fooled her into thinking today was like any other day. But it wasn't until the dishes were being cleared that something was said.
"Why do you look like the cat that's been in the cream?"
Stopping to pop the last bite of her blueberry muffin into her mouth, Janet feigned a look of innocence. "You're imagining things."
Carol stepped closer and lowered her voice so that the children wouldn't hear. "I know that special glow, my friend, and it only comes from one source. Now give—what have you been doing while I was gone?"
From anyone else the question would have smacked of prying; from Carol, Janet knew it was genuine caring. "I took your advice and went out with Eric Stewart."
"And?"
"And we had a good time."
"Judging from the way you look this morning, I would say that's a monumental understatement if I ever heard one."
Janet grinned. "All right—we had a wonderful time." She opened the dishwasher and started stacking the breakfast dishes while Carol put the milk and cereal away. This was their Sunday morning tradition. Amy cooked, and they cleaned up after her.
"So now what?"
"That's precisely what I've been asking myself all morning."
Standing on her toes to shove the cereal box into the overhead cupboard, Carol grimaced. "Seems to me you're caught between a rock and a hard place, with Eric on one side and school on the other. You'll never be able to do justice to one without the other suffering."
"We talked about that yesterday, and Eric was very understanding."
"Uh-huh, but for how long? I assume this guy is human."
"What is this, some weird kind of support?"
"If you don't look at things realistically, they'll never work out." She grabbed the dishcloth and started to wipe down the countertops, cleaning a wide trail of blueberry-muffin batter. "Why don't we take a few minutes to sit down this morning and see if we can't readjust our schedules so you can have some time off that will coordinate with his?"
Janet felt a tightness behind her eyes that meant they were about to fill with tears. Along with the good feelings left over from the day before were grave doubts about the speed at which everything was happening. She and Eric desperately needed time together to discover if the way they felt about each other was real. It was just like Carol to offer her that time. "How did I ever deserve a friend like you?"
Carol came over to put her arms around Janet. "By being a wonderful friend to me. I'm only giving back what I get."
After the kitchen was clean, they took paper and pencil and sat down with second cups of coffee in the living room. They made a chart listing the seven days of the week and all the waking hours. When they had finished filling it in with the demands on Janet's time that could not be readily changed, they started to work on the open hours. Time she had used between classes to visit with friends, no matter how brief, would now be used for studying. Janet felt a twinge of sadness, knowing there would be no more crazy conversations or discussions of world affairs with Earthquake and his roommate. And Casey would have to find someone else to tell about her latest fling. But she promised herself that somehow she wouldn't let either friendship die for lack of attention. The other gatherings, mostly spontaneous, when groups of students would leave a lecture and continue discussing something interesting that had been brought up in class that day, would just have to be foregone.
In the end, Janet was pleasantly surprised. They had worked it out so that every Sunday when she wasn't chauffeuring clients to a Forty-niners football game at Candlestick Park, she could have free to spend with Eric. And even on the days she did drive, she would have the evenings off. Sunday morning breakfasts with Amy would be moved to Saturdays, and Carol would talk the other members of the string quartet she usually practiced with on Sunday afternoons into moving their meetings to Wednesday nights. All of which meant she would be able to see Eric for a full day again the Sunday after next.
"Now all you have to do is make sure you stay healthy, and everything will work out fine," Carol said, taking the chart they had made into the kitchen and pinning it up on the cork bulletin board.
Janet followed her in with the coffee cups. While she was putting them into the dishwasher, the phone rang. Carol answered, then held out the receiver. "It's for you—Earthquake."
For an instant, thinking it might be Eric, Janet's heart had picked up its rhythm. She had a burgeoning need to hear his voice and to tell him the good news. "What's up?" she said, her tone reflecting her inner happiness. "I just called to remind you about the protest." Her mind rapidly sorted through bits and pieces of information seeking out one about a protest. "Give me a bigger hint."
"I knew it. You forgot, didn't you?"
"Come on, Earthquake… just one tiny little clue."
"Lawrence Livermore Laboratory? Any bells ringing?"
They were—all too loudly. The last time she had distributed antinuclear pamphlets with him, she had faithfully promised to be a part of the upcoming demonstration. "When is it?"
"In two weeks."
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. "On a Sunday?" She didn't have to ask, she already knew.
"So you did remember. I'm proud of you."
"No… I didn't. It was just a lucky guess."
"You don't sound too excited. Is something wrong?" She tried to say the words that would get her out of going but couldn't. She recalled all too vividly when she had promised to go with him. He had been ecstatic. Oh, Eric, please understand when I tell you that it will be four weeks instead of two before we can spend the day together again. "Of course there's nothing wrong, Earthquake. I'm just a little tired."
"Late night, huh?"
"Yeah." She ran her hand through her hair. "Do you want me to drive?"
"As long as it's not raining, it might be better if we took my motorcycle. That way if we get arrested, it will be easier for someone to get it to the jail. They can just throw it in the back of a pickup."
Now everything came back to her, hitting her like an avalanche. The discussions they had had, between classes and during their walks, about being dedicated enough to a cause to go to jail for it echoed tauntingly in her mind. With a sinking feeling she remembered giving her wholehearted endorsement to the project, never thinking it would really come to pass. It wasn't that she didn't passionately believe Carl Sagen was right when he said any nuclear conflict meant total annihilation, or that using nuclear power for energy was tantamount to playing Russian roulette with the environment, it just wasn't a good time for her to prove how much she cared. Her reasoning made her feel so guilty that any thought of backing out became impossible. "What time do you want me to be ready?" she sighed.
"I'll pick you up at three-thirty."
"In the morning?" she screeched.
"It's a surprise attack. The media isn't even being notified until we're already there."
Spending an hour and a half on the back of a motorcycle in the dead of winter in the dead of the night had about as much appeal as the food on one of Eric's picnic lunches. "Don't be disappointed if I'm not my usual radiant self that morning."
He laughed. "No problem. Conversation's a little tough on a bike, anyway."
They talked awhile longer about the upcoming biology midterm before saying goodbye and hanging up. When Janet turned around, she saw Carol looking at her, her hands on her hips, a frown on her face.
"Did I hear what I thought I heard?" she said.
Janet shrugged helplessly. "What could I do? I promised."
&n
bsp; "You should have told him about Eric. I'm sure he would have understood."
"Carol, Earthquake is still young enough to think something like this protest can really make a difference. He needs gung ho support, not apathy. Who knows, maybe someday he will be the one who gains a position powerful enough to save us all from this insanity. Think how wrong it would be for me to discourage him now."
Carol made a face and rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm hearing this."
"Neither can I. I'm going to my room now to try to get some studying done before you have to leave. Let me know when you're ready." She reached up to close a cupboard on her way out, almost tripping on a Transformer that Brian had left in the doorway. "Sorry," she absently mumbled to the car-robot as she made her way down the hallway.
An hour later she had read her biology notes twice but couldn't remember a word. It was no good. She had to call Eric and explain about Earthquake. She picked up the phone and made the call; he answered on the first ring as if he'd been waiting for her.
"And here I thought it was going to be an ordinary morning," he said, his voice a verbal caress.
"Don't be nice to me," she groaned. "You'll only make me feel worse."
He had been sitting at his desk, gathering up the merger papers he had been going over that morning, when her phone call came. At the tone in her voice he shoved the papers aside and gave her his full attention. "What's wrong, Janet?"
"I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"
"The good."
"Carol and I spent the morning juggling my schedule, and I now have every Sunday off that there isn't a home game for the Forty-niners."
A Week from Friday Page 13