Sweet Child of Mine

by Jean Brashear

  When he smiled at her, she smiled back. They would one day break this bond and their vows would turn to ash, but she realized that it was not in her nature to disregard them now. For whatever time they must deal together, she would do her best to be the kind of wife a man like Michael deserved.

  They thanked the minister and his wife and signed the register, then turned to walk back down the aisle. When they reached the front door, all Suzanne could think was that the hardest part was over, that with some distance between them, they could make this work. “We can head home now. I need to call Jim and tell him that everything’s going to be all right. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go see Bobby. I can’t wait to bring him to Prosperino.”

  Michael started to nod as he opened the door. He took one glance outside, then closed it and looked back at her. “Well, Mrs. Longstreet, you might have to put those plans on hold.”

  For a minute, she was too rattled by the name to make sense of the rest of what he said. Then it registered. “What do you mean?”

  He held the door open wide so she could see out. The world had turned white while they’d been inside.

  “The storm that was supposed to arrive tomorrow appears to have a mind of its own. Sorry to tell you this, but we’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  Five

  After the fourth place they tried unsuccessfully to get a room, Michael put his foot down. It was that or do something uncivilized to his wife of only three hours. “You’re either staying in the car or letting me carry you the next time we get out of the car, Suzanne. Those shoes are soaking wet, and you’re not fooling me that you’re not freezing.” He’d sell his soul for the change of clothes he’d left on his plane. His own feet were blocks of ice.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered.

  “Your lips are blue. If you’d use that brain of yours, you’d know you’re only being stubborn. For two cents I’d buy a rope and tie you to the seat.” He put the car into gear and drove carefully toward the only place in town that had a room, according to the most recent desk clerk, who’d taken pity on the newlyweds and called around for him.

  “Don’t order me around. ‘Obey’ isn’t part of the vows anymore, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “The word would have been wasted on you, anyway,” he muttered.

  “Why can’t we just drive back if the plane can’t take off?”

  The car fishtailed on a slick spot just then. He didn’t bother to answer.

  She looked around at the silent streets. “I guess if we’d driven, we’d still have trouble getting out.”

  “My four-wheel drive would have done all right, I think. Except that we’d just now be getting here and would have been too late for the chapel to fit us in.”

  Chapel. They were really married. He saw Suzanne’s right hand brush lightly over the left where his ring nestled beneath her glove.

  The reality of it slammed into her violet eyes. “I can’t believe it yet.”

  He smiled grimly. “Me either.” Then he saw the sign and pulled the car under the portico. “Hallelujah, a sheltered entry. I’ll let you out here where it’s dry while I go park the car.”

  “Dreamers?” She read the sign. “What is this place?”

  “I have no idea. It’s the only room left in town, thanks to the storm. No one else can get out either, but quite a few more had already arrived before the storm.”

  She glanced into the lobby, then back at him, her eyes dark and worried. A shiver ran through her. “We can’t stay, Michael. I need to get back. The kids at Hopechest need me.”

  “Believe me, I understand.” He’d cursed Mother Nature more than once himself. He’d made his bold pronouncement of confidence to the townspeople, and he needed to be in Prosperino braving the water crisis along with everyone else, not stuck in Tahoe. “But we don’t have any choice.”

  “Separate rooms, right?”

  “One suite was all they had.” He saw the protest forming on her lips. “They say it’s big. There has to be a sofa or something. It’s the best I can do.” He hadn’t felt this much at the mercy of fate in a long time.

  The reality of what they’d done hit him hard. “Look, Suzanne, this is just the beginning of negotiating tricky waters. We knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But Bobby’s worth it, right?”

  Her head whipped around, eyes sparking. “Of course he is. It’s only—” She looked out the windshield, then drew herself up very straight. “I’m sorry. This is just as hard on you. You have a whole town depending on you.” She cast him a sideways look from those incredible eyes, placing one hand on his arm. “I’m behaving like a spoiled child. I’m sorry, Michael.”

  He worked up a smile. The day had been centuries long already, and it was barely three o’clock. “No sweat. Go on inside, and I’ll be right there.”

  She gave his arm one soft pat, then drew her coat around her and got out.

  When Michael returned, she was already at the reception desk, her billfold open while the desk clerk tapped away at his keyboard. When he came to stand beside her, he could feel the agitation in her frame. Gently, he folded her billfold closed. “I’ll take care of this. Sweetheart,” he added for the clerk’s benefit.

  Furious eyes snapped up to his.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  The very young clerk shifted on his feet.

  “Highway robbery,” Suzanne muttered. “Do you know what the rates are in this place?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He smiled at the clerk and handed him a credit card. “We’re grateful you could help us.”

  The young man shot Suzanne a glance, then Michael.

  Michael shrugged. “My wife is careful with every penny.” He tried to ignore the muffled burst of rebellion at his side. “It’s one of the things I love about her.” He placed one hand on Suzanne’s arm, holding her still while she trembled beneath his hand.

  “Er, yes, sir. If you could initial here by the rate, sir?”

  Four hundred fifty a night. Michael had paid more many times, but it had been for a suite in Paris. The Plaza in New York. The Ritz in London.

  Quickly, he initialed the rate and shoved the paper back at the clerk, hoping he could stem Suzanne’s inevitable outburst until they were no longer in public. He took the key and all but dragged her to the elevator.

  Rich boy, he thought he heard her mutter. He ignored it and tightened his grip on her arm.

  The elevator doors shut, and she quickly jerked her arm from his hand, placing the width of the elevator between them.

  “It won’t make a convincing case that we were overcome by passion if you’re screaming at me in public,” he observed.

  “I don’t scream.” She sniffed.

  Michael snorted, then quickly composed his face.

  Suddenly, she was right in front of him, poking her finger in his chest. “Look, you may not think anything of that rate, but it could pay my monthly rent. It’s obscene. No wonder poor children can’t get good health care. No wonder single mothers are on food stamps. No won—”

  Violet eyes blazing, raven hair flying in a nimbus, she was magnificent. He yielded to temptation, closing his hands on her arms, pulling her against him.

  He took her mouth as he’d wanted to do for hours.

  At first she went quiet and still, no doubt in shock. Then she sucked in a breath of outrage, opened her hands on his chest—and pushed. But there was no force behind it.

  Michael loosened his arms but didn’t let go, sliding his tongue along her lips very, very slowly.

  Suzanne’s body quivered like a bowstring.

  Michael knew he should stop before things got out of hand, but for the life of him, he couldn’t conceive of stepping away.

  Then, all of a sudden, Suzanne went fluid in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She opened to him, and Michael lost all sense of where they were. Who he was. Who she was. Nothing was real, nothing but this kiss that had turned into something wild, some
thing dark and hot and sweet.

  The door opened, and he heard a gasp from outside.

  But it still took effort to end the scorching kiss. He didn’t care if the President and all his Cabinet stood outside that door. He had to have her. Now.

  Michael opened his eyes for one second and saw a housekeeper grinning madly.

  With effort, he gentled the kiss. “Suzanne,” he murmured.

  “Hmmm?” Her fingers tightened in his hair.

  Michael resisted the urge to yelp. “Sweetheart.” He pressed one last kiss to her unfairly sexy mouth, then lifted his head. “We’ve got company.”

  “Wha—” Slowly her eyes opened, a pansy-purple so dark he wanted to dive inside and never return.

  He nodded to the housekeeper behind her and grinned. “Newlyweds.”

  The woman smiled broadly. “Don’t I know it? You two just go right on ahead. You’ll like the Jungle Suite.”

  Suzanne went ramrod stiff and jerked away, her fair cheeks turning an amazing shade of tomato red. She turned one quick look toward the other woman. “Jungle Suite?”

  “All the suites got names, sugar,” the woman offered. “You’re lucky to get a cancellation on Valentine’s weekend. This place is booked solid a year in advance.”

  He heard Suzanne’s little moan and pulled her into his side. “I’m afraid the little woman is a bit overcome by the excitement of the day.” He tried not to react when Suzanne stiffened against him. Not even when she dug her nails into his side. “I’ll just have to be real gentle with her.” He winked at the housekeeper, knowing he would pay for that remark.

  The woman’s laughter followed them down the hall while Michael tried to keep Suzanne from kicking him in the shins. He had to let her go to open the door, and he barely got her inside before she unloaded on him.

  “‘The little woman’?” she screeched. “First you want to tie me in the car, then you don’t even care that you could feed a family for two months on what you’ve paid for this—” Turning away from him and getting her first look at the room, she fell abruptly silent.

  He didn’t have words, either, for what lay before them when he’d flipped on the lights.

  He shot Suzanne a glance. Her face went still and that beautiful mouth quivered. He braced himself for tears as she bent over, the fall of her hair blocking his view of her face.

  When her shoulders began to quake, he broke the resolve he’d just made to keep his hands to himself and touched her shoulder gently. “Suzanne, it’s going to be all right, I swear. We’ll get through this.”

  Suzanne threw her head back and laughter spilled freefall from her lips, a bubbling brook of silvery notes cleansing the tension from the space they shared. “I—don’t—believe—this—” She gasped for breath between words, one hand over her mouth as she stared around the room.

  Michael’s gaze scanned the space, as big as an apartment, and had to laugh, too. Yes, he’d paid this much and more before—but never for anything like this.

  The Jungle Suite. Deep green vines tangled with trees, and tropical plants burst with orange and fuchsia blossoms. Everywhere. The walls and ceilings were covered with mirrors, and the headboard of the enormous round bed was covered in a riotous print of purple and fuchsia, tangerine and turquoise.

  “Oh, my God.” Suzanne’s eyes were bright as diamonds as she turned in a circle. “Michael, look at that tub.”

  He followed her pointing finger. A black marble tub as big as his own whirlpool at home sat in one corner, but this one was heart-shaped. Mirrors surrounded it, along with at least a hundred candles. He went for nonchalance. “The hot water will feel good.”

  Her eyes widened with shock. “You can’t be considering staying here.”

  “There’s nowhere else to stay.”

  “But I— But we—” She pointed aimlessly. “There are mirrors on the ceiling, for heaven’s sake.”

  “It’s a honeymoon suite. What did you expect?” He too wanted to groan. This was a sybarite’s dream suite, just this side of cheesy, except that everything was first class in its quality. All too easily he could imagine Suzanne lying on that huge round bed naked, her raven hair spilling over the coverlet like a waterfall of silk.

  He wanted to lie on his back on that bed and watch her naked above him while they—

  “There’s no sofa, Michael.” Suzanne’s voice intruded rudely on the enticing fantasies that were short-circuiting his brain.

  “So?”

  “I am not sleeping with you. That’s not our deal.”

  The agitation in her voice cut through the smoke fogging his logic. He cleared his throat and tried to find something in this room that didn’t fire his imagination into erotic meltdown.

  A panel of switches on the wall. Very utilitarian. Good. He stared at it for a moment before his brain would work to read the instructions.

  Laughter erupted from his throat.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “A thirty-channel remote control sound system with preset programs from Ravel’s Bolero to Madonna’s Erotica.” He couldn’t help the mile-wide grin until he turned and saw her. “Er, not funny.” He struggled to frown. “Not funny at all.”

  “There is nothing humorous about this, Michael.”

  What kind of music would make this woman melt? he wondered.

  “Michael—”

  He jerked himself back from a whole new line of fantasy. “Yeah. Right.” He cleared his throat again. Reality came crashing in. Suddenly he was as tired as he could remember being in a long time. He hadn’t slept much last night. “Look, the bed is huge. You could sleep ten people on that without anyone bothering anyone else.”

  “I am not sleeping with you. We made rules, remember?”

  But I hadn’t kissed you when we made those rules. I hadn’t felt your body against mine.

  She’d felt it, too. He knew that, knew that she remembered the moment when her body had surrendered to his, when she’d lost herself in the same heat lightning that had all but melted his shoes to the floor of the elevator.

  He fastened his gaze on hers and dared her to deny what they’d shared.

  Her eyes pleaded with him. Silently, they reproved him. There was more at stake than one scorching kiss.

  Her little boy. His father. The distance each of them needed to keep, no matter how strong the physical attraction. He’d never heard of Suzanne playing around. She wasn’t a woman to just go for great sex, no matter how much Michael was now convinced it would be earth-shaking.

  And he couldn’t offer her more. He could be her friend, and he could be a skilled and pleasing lover. But he would never, ever share his heart. It wasn’t his to give.

  Suzanne deserved more. She led with her heart and had from the first day he’d met her. She wasn’t a woman with whom you played games and walked away.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he snapped. There was no reason to take out his frustration on her. He gentled his voice. “I won’t bother you.”

  She grew very quiet and sank down on the edge of the bed, looking defeated. “Maybe we should give this up right now. No one knows yet, so there’s no damage to repair.” Her slender shoulders sank as though the weight of her dreams was more than she could bear.

  “No.” Michael’s refusal was as instantaneous as it was inexplicable. Then he cursed himself silently and viciously. He’d always had a very healthy sex drive and it had been a long time since he’d had to deny it. Knowing that he would be celibate until this was all over didn’t help his mood, but he refused to consider risking shaming Suzanne by seeking another outlet for the hungers she so easily aroused in him. He was a grown man who had shown much discipline in his life. He would deal with this.

  So he worked hard on keeping his tone reasonable, despite how his teeth were on edge, his body craving hers. “We can pull this off. You need my help and I need yours. We’re two reasonable people. It’s simply a matter of taking each step as it comes.”

  The gratitude
that swept over her face made him resolve to keep her at arm’s length until they could get out of this place and get back to the safety of their normal lives, where there was no reason to see each other but in passing. But even as that thought comforted him, he felt a small pang of regret for what they could never share.

  Maybe one day, when this was all over—

  Forget it, Longstreet. She’s not a woman to have affairs. She’ll have her life and you’ll be free to resume yours. Women included.

  Right now he needed to get away from her, clear his head. “Look, why don’t you take a bath and a nap? I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll make them downstairs.”

  She started to shake her head, but he overrode her. “Shouldn’t you call Jim and tell him that it’s done? You can start making plans about when we can pick up your son.”

  Her protests died. Her lips curved at the thought. “Sure. I—” She frowned faintly and looked up. “I’ll use my calling card.”

  The temper he’d thought long ago conquered flared as though she’d lit a fuse. “Suzanne, just bill the damn call to the room. Talk for two hours, I don’t care.” He heard his voice rise but couldn’t seem to stop it. “I can afford it, all right? So sue me if you don’t like it that I can afford this room and this trip and—” He threw up his hands in disgust. “I’ll be back. I’ll leave the key with you so you don’t have to worry that I’ll intrude.”

  He tossed the key on the bed and left before he could add any more sins to his list.

  Suzanne hung up the phone, still smiling broadly after hearing Bobby talk about the new puppy Jim had gotten him. A black Lab named Maverick, the pup had already taken a firm hold on Bobby’s heart.

  She wondered what Michael would think about inheriting a dog. Jim admitted that it probably wasn’t his right to introduce a dog he’d never raise, but he’d wanted Bobby to have something to bridge the gap once he was gone, a piece of his life with Bobby that would still be there for comfort when he could no longer do so himself. Edna Waters, his late wife’s cousin, didn’t mind dogs as long as they were kept outside, he said.