Naked Hope

by Rebecca E. Grant

“I love the way your body responds to the slightest touch,” he murmured, brushing her hair from her shoulder. “Don’t worry about the noise. No one can hear you.” He kissed her, his lips and tongue demanding a response, and left the bed. Moments later, he returned with a warm wet cloth, which he used to bathe her, until she almost came again.

  When the cloth had cooled, she smiled. “Have you made me wait long enough?”

  Eyes half closed, he grinned, reached into his bedside drawer, and withdrew a foil packet. “You want more?”

  Elated with his playfulness, she reached for the length of him, and rolled the condom over his hard warmth. “I want this.”

  “Show me.” Holding her gaze with his own, he buried himself inside her a bit at a time.

  Chapter Seven

  The morning brushed against her as Jill opened her eyes and found him watching her, his body still spiraled around hers as the first golden fingers of light reached into the room. She pulled away and sat up, wrapping the sheet around her body.

  He rolled close and kissed the back of her shoulder. “Don’t leave yet. Come back.”

  Although not more than a whisper, his voice vibrated through her. The statements sounded too much like commands. She stood, holding the sheet, searching the room for her clothes, and swept tousled hair out of her eyes. The sheet slipped.

  He vaulted out of bed and caught the sheet, his long fingers holding it securely around her waist. His mouth brushed her collarbone. “I’d rather you lose this, but the decision is yours,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to come back to bed?”

  She stared, trying to remember how things got so phenomenally off-track. She blinked remembering the recent headline Gavin Fairfield, international globetrotter traveling intercontinentally with a bevy of women including his agent and long-time flame, Adrienne Rush, touched down in Amsterdam a few days ago for an unscheduled visit to the city of freedom and natural expression where he… She shook her head, trying to clear it, and flattened her palms against his chest. Yet she couldn’t make herself push him away.

  “You think this was casual.” His fingers played along her back. “If this had been casual, you wouldn’t be in my bed—or my home. I wouldn’t let you anywhere near my daughter—or my mother, for that matter. And, despite what you may have read or heard, I like to keep private things, private.”

  Her fingers played his muscled chest and raised her gaze to his. The obvious warmth of his stare made her glance toward the bed, almost regretting her hasty decision to get up. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  He kissed her again, his lips lingering on her mouth. “Just that I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “They’ll be wondering where we are.” She moved away from him but only managed to step on the sheet.

  He gripped it tighter and pulled her up against him. “You’re beautiful when you sleep.” His mouth nudged hers. “No one’s wondering where we are. Liv is still sleeping and Mother’s already left with Baines to help organize food and shelter for those who need it.”

  Appalled at how public their private adventures of the night before might become if discovered, and Jill jerked out of his arms. “Oh. Shouldn’t we”

  He kissed her ear. “No, we shouldn’t. I have it on good authority that I’m to make myself available until a certain Dr. Cole is done.” He tipped her chin until she met his gaze. “Is she?”

  Jill hesitated, struggling to get her bearings. Should I collect my things and go? Where are my clothes? She tried to remember just when things had gotten so out of control. And why was she letting him pull her back into his arms?

  His mouth traveled the side of her neck until he found her lips, and kneaded them until she surrendered. At last, he released her and turned, magnificent in his nakedness.

  “Jillian, last night you offered me the only comfort I could accept.” He turned to face her. “If you now regret it”

  Her confusion lifted. She let the sheet drop and moved behind him, sliding her arms around his waist. Her fingers stroked the dark streak of hair that shot down his abdomen and whispered, “She is not nearly done.”

  When the house phone buzzed, Jill had no concept of elapsed time.

  Gavin reached across her and picked up the receiver. “Yes?” He listened and then said, “I’m famished. I imagine Dr. Cole is, too. Please hold breakfast.” He clicked off and slid his arms back around Jill. “Baines left orders with cook to call if we hadn’t eaten by now.”

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow. “We?” Did everyone in the household know how they spent the last several hours? And what would Edith think of her if she knew they’d just spent the last several hours devouring each other as if they were a carnal banquet.

  Gavin grinned and smoothed her hair from her shoulder. “And your clothes have been freshly laundered. You’ll find them outside your door. Hungry, Dr. Cole?” He kissed the corner of her mouth.

  “Starved. How did they get my clothes?” she asked, stretching like a cat.

  Gavin’s grin turned enigmatic.

  “Ah, the ubiquitous Baines?”

  “Ubiquitous.” Gavin chuckled. “He’d like that.”

  “Baines strikes me as far more than a butler.”

  The lines around Gavin’s eyes softened. “Baines is the reason I’m still on my feet.”

  ****

  “Dr. Jill.” Olivia cried, running across the polished dining room floor.

  Jill noted how well-rested Olivia looked.

  Olivia dove face first into Jill’s lap and wrapped her arms around Jill’s waist. “You’re still here,” she giggled into Jill’s napkin.

  Her words sounded muffled and difficult to make out.

  “Are we doing more word games today?”

  Jill couldn’t help but smooth Olivia’s hair out of her eyes.

  Gavin’s gaze found hers. Across the table, he mouthed, “She’s quite taken with you.”

  His tenderness reminded Jill of how their interlude last night had begun.

  He rose, his movements gentle as he extricated his daughter from her lap. “Let’s give Dr. Jill a few minutes to finish her breakfast, which reminds me. How about some breakfast for you?” He held the little girl’s chair.

  She grinned and sat.

  “What may I serve you today, Princess?”

  “Egg salad on rye with curly fries and a dill pickle,” she announced, breaking into peals of laughter.

  Jill rolled her eyes. “You told her.”

  Gavin grinned and planted a quick kiss on his daughter’s cheek. “Of course I did. And now, in all seriousness, we have a question for you.”

  With guarded curiosity, she inquired, “Yes?”

  “Just what is your favorite lunch?”

  Without hesitation, Jill answered, “Salad niçoise and a cup of French onion soup.”

  Olivia winked and nodded her head in the perfect imitation of her father. “I’ll have cook get right on it.”

  That day, Jill worked with Olivia, taking only a short break for lunch that included a fine niçoise salad and a cup of French onion soup smothered in toasted Swiss cheese. By late afternoon, she’d completed the last of her assessments. The previous night had been a late one, emotional and nearly sleepless, and they’d awakened early in the morning.

  She had a great deal to sort out, not the least of which was whether Olivia could be admitted as her father hoped. Tonight when she got home, or tomorrow morning at the latest, she’d enter the data, apply the formula, and let the statistical software determine Olivia’s eligibility. If her cumulative total was over fifty, Olivia would be admitted into Jill’s advanced program. If not, Jill could only recommend Olivia for a more basic program, which any reasonable human being would recognize as a personal victory. Except for Gavin, whose all-or-nothing attitude would reject anything but admission into the advanced program. The thought depressed her as she gathered her belongings. Stay in the moment, Jillian. No good purpose is served to get ahead of yoursel
f. You can’t know what you don’t know until you’ve completed your assessment.

  Evidence of the storm-stricken world lay everywhere as Gavin drove through the streets of Shadow Hills toward the highway. Clean-up crews dragged tree limbs out of the way and tore down the ravaged remains. Gavin shook his head.

  Jill let out a soft, “Oh,” saddened to see the little town so scarred and defiant on what otherwise would have been yet another perfect jade day.

  For awhile, they rode in silence. When Gavin began to speak, she listening, enjoying the sound of his voice as she memorized his profile and the way his eyes squinted when he was remembering something, or the way his Adam’s apple rose and fell with his words. Or how he looked when he was short of sleep after a night of euphoric lovemaking. She took in the uncustomary growth of beard that shadowed his face. Her gaze followed the waves of hair brushed away from his temples to reveal a hint of premature gray. Even without much sleep, he looked younger than he had four days ago.

  “Baines found me after the accident.”

  “Found you?”

  Gavin glanced her way, his gaze narrowed, and then shifted away.

  Once again, she caught the suggestion of guilt in his manner. “I’d taken a day trip—left my cell in my other car. For whatever reason, Vivienne chose to drive that car instead of her own the day she crashed on the bridge. Until Baines found me, they thought I’d been inside too and had fallen into the river on impact. Especially after they found my phone.”

  His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Liv didn’t open her eyes for eight days. I—I couldn’t leave her side. Baines brought me clothes, made me eat, forced me to take short walks with him around the hospital grounds. He took care of me the way my mother wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her—I couldn’t stand to see the pain in her eyes. Only one thing mattered—Liv’s recovery. I had to stay strong.”

  Jill leaned against the door feeling the full impact of his words. “You could tolerate Baines because he’s so perfunctory in manner.”

  Gavin nodded. “When Olivia finally woke up, we found out how extensive the damage to her brain was…And then she came home and was so—”

  “Baines carried on.” Jill finished the sentence for him.

  Gavin glanced in the rear view mirror and swore under his breath.

  Jill turned to see swirling red lights of the highway patrol, and nearly grinned. Gavin Fairfield, privileged and often indulged, frequently made his own rules. Apparently the State of Minnesota Highway Department wasn’t aware of that fact.

  He slowed, pulled the BMW to the shoulder, and slid down his window.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” the officer greeted. “Driver's license and proof of insurance, please.”

  Gavin reached into his wallet without acknowledging the officer.

  The officer retreated but returned moments later. “Good afternoon Mr. Fairfield. I didn't recognize the car. New, huh?”

  “Yes, delivered about a week ago.”

  “Great piece of machinery. Who'd you get her from?”

  “Radtke.”

  “Radtke’s got a beauty like this?”

  “You got me there. Radtke put in a special order.”

  “She’s a sweet one all right.” He whistled.

  “Look, officer, we're running a little behind.”

  “Oh, sure, Mr. Fairfield. You g’wan. You were clipping along a little faster than the posted speed limit but since this is your first offense, I think we can get by with issuing a warning. You take it easy, hear?” The patrolman ripped a ticket out of his book.

  “You bet, officer.”

  Jill shook her head as Gavin sped back out into the mainstream of traffic. “You really are quite used to making your own rules, aren't you?” The soft accusation slipped out before she could pull it back.

  Several moments passed as he tapped his forefinger against the steering wheel. “I guess in some ways, I am.”

  His expression showed her he was more than a little pleased with the idea.

  “Hungry? We’re almost back.”

  Jill nodded and suggested Leo’s, a family-run cafe a few blocks from the institute where she and Ross often ate. Within minutes, they settled into the retro comfort of a red-leather booth. The smell of fried cheeseburgers mingled with barbeque chicken and homemade marinara.

  “Have you ever heard Liv play?”

  “No, I haven’t.” Jill shook her head. “Until last night, I hadn’t even heard you play since college.”

  “Not a fan?” He grinned. “She’s astonishing. Understands music in a way I’ve never seen before. As if she is music.”

  Jill leaned her elbows against the table. “I would have said that about you.” She smiled at the memory.

  He shook his head. “She just sits at the piano and plays. I don’t know how her little hands do it” he broke off.

  Startled, Jill realized, sometimes he forgets Olivia is no longer capable of music.

  Their cheeseburgers arrived. Someone put money into the jukebox. Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight played in the background. Gavin applied ketchup liberally to his cheeseburger and poured a neat side helping on his plate. He glanced up, shrugged, and grinned. “I like ketchup.”

  Each time Gavin looked at her, the heat in his eyes made her tremble. The memory of his face against her bare skin sent a flush skittering across her body.

  She reined in her emotions and took a deep breath. “Gavin, just now you talked about Olivia as if she’s still a musician. She’s not. If you continue to expect Olivia to be someone she can no longer be, it will destroy any chance she has of making a normal emotional adjustment. You love your daughter, that much is clear. But the relationship between you is strained.”

  Jill paused for a breath, and pushed on forcing out the words. “My program can’t give Olivia back her music, and we can never give that back to you, either. I wish we could.” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

  Gavin groaned and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief.

  “Thank you,” she managed, her throat aching.

  “You can’t know until you try,” he insisted, jabbing his hair out of his eyes.

  Her head jerked up. Surely he wasn’t suggesting she’d given up before she’d examined the data?

  Gavin caught her hand and held it captive. “How can you give up on her without at least trying?”

  Jill extricated her hand and leaned back studying him. Finally, she asked, “Why the advanced program, Gavin? Why are you so set on that program?”

  Gavin slouched and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because she was bored out of her mind in the other two programs we tried. We’re running out of time.”

  Jill’s gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “We have concert dates, commitments, a concerto to finish.”

  Jill swallowed the last of her cheeseburger and wiped her hands on a napkin, unable to believe her ears. She leaned back, her eyebrows puckering. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

  Gavin signaled for the check.

  “She will not qualify for the advanced program if you expect her to return to her music. She will surely fail under that kind of pressure. Her failure affects not only her, but the others in that program.” Jill shook her head. “I won’t put Olivia or the others at risk like that.”

  The light in his eyes vanished.

  The change was like watching a power failure. Instantly, she regretted her words. She dropped her gaze and pushed crumbs from the table into her napkin.

  He scribbled his signature, collected his card, pulled out his key, and reached for her hand. “Ready?”

  Jill wiped her mouth and folded her napkin. “I’m just a few blocks from here, and it’s a lovely evening. I feel like walking.”

  He tucked his key back into his pocket. His jaw ticked. “Fine.” He reached for her hand.

  “Alone,” She stared, sensing he couldn’t possibly understand her need for space at the moment.
>
  He grasped her hand. “If you want to walk, we’ll walk, but I’ll see you safely to your door.”

  “Don’t be silly. There is still light and I walk all the time.”

  He tightened his grip and waited until she stood. They were nearly at her door when he said, “This isn’t how I hoped the evening would end.”

  She looked up into his blue-gray eyes. “How is it ending?”

  He dropped her hand. “You, angry with me.”

  Her heart lurched. “Oh, Gavin, I’m not angry with you. I’m frustrated I can’t make you understand”

  “That’s right, Jillian. You can’t. But this isn’t just about Liv anymore.” He recaptured her hands. “Dinner? Tomorrow night?” He stepped her back against the door, his face a hair’s breadth away.

  If she raised her chin…her breath caught. “I’m afraid we haven’t been very wise,” she murmured.

  He drew her long hair away from the side of her face and rested his lips against her temple. The length of his body melded against hers. “The hell with wise.”

  “Olivia”

  “Don’t turn this into a conflict over Liv. Whether she’s admitted or not” He checked his grip, “there would still be—this—between us.” He took her mouth with his and wrapped the length of her hair around his hand, gently tipping her head back. “And this,” he murmured, kissing her even more deeply.

  Her hand slid up his arm, dangerously close to touching his cheek. Her fingers brushed against the roughness of his beard. Her breath caught and her knees felt weak.

  He pulled back, his lips grazing her ear and the corner of her mouth, waiting.

  “This is too complicated.” With a shake of her head, she backed out of his arms.

  “No!”

  “Gavin, I can’t stand to watch what will happen when you finally face the truth about Olivia.”

  “But we don’t know what that is. She’s not in your program, yet. Now is the time to hope.”

  “No, Gavin.” When Jill spoke next, her mouth felt wooden, as if she were chewing on sticks. “Now is the time to be realistic.”

  The moment hung suspended between them. He reached out as if to take her hand, then checked himself. “I don't give up easily. This is not nearly over, Jillian.” He loped off into the night.