“Yes, you are. I know you are.” She tugged at her woolen scarf. “If you weren’t, you’d be hugging. You’re always hugging her, and she’s always smiling like she has a secret.”
Gavin caught up with Jill in her office after her last conference of the day. He grinned. “Dr. Cole, I was hoping to talk with you for a moment. May I come in?”
She nodded, wanting the closeness, but unsure how to go forward if he should continue to have such casual disdain for Olivia’s protocol.
He closed the door behind him and faced her, still grinning. “So, Jillian, tell me about my daughter.”
To keep from showing how flustered he made her, Jill folded her hands. “You’ve met with Olivia’s team, so you already know the details of Olivia’s progress. I’m not sure what I could add that is substantive in nature.”
He pulled out a chair and straddled it. “I’m interested in hearing about my daughter from you.”
His male, almost sexually aggressive manner unnerved her. “But, Gavin, we’ve already covered”
He cut her off with a sweeping smile. “I’m a slow learner. Start at the beginning and explain it to me again, please.”
He was not actually going to have her repeat everything Olivia’s team had explained. She stared at him.
He spread his arms. “What can you tell me about my daughter’s progress?”
A hint of humor turned his eyes more blue than gray. Jill placed her palms against the flat of her desk. “I don’t understand—what are we doing here?”
“Well, the way I see things, we got off track in our last conversation when I insisted you were wrong about Liv. I’d like to turn back the clock. Tell me about my daughter and I’ll show you how well-behaved I can be.”
She blinked, not knowing what to make of him. This was a side she’d never seen.
“Please.”
His smile shot into her and planted itself low in her abdomen. Despite misgivings, she began, “You can see for yourself, Olivia is progressing well. She's attentive in class, responsive, creative, and both willing and able to take on more complex projects than she was at the start of the term. She’s”
“In an amazing program designed by an even more amazing woman.” He caught her hand.
Too aware of the location, she freed it and forced herself to continue. “Measurement of her brain activity indicates the targeted stimulus is helping to encourage certain tasks to be taken over by a part of the brain that doesn’t usually perform that task. All of the exercises you’re doing with her at home are making a difference. In terms of behavioral substitution—establishing new behaviors in place of her former, less-effective ones—Olivia doesn’t let disappointment stop her and is learning new strategies to compensate for her deficits. My protocol”
“Was just what she needed.”
Her mouth tightened. “Is what she still needs.”
He gave an affable nod. “Yes. I agree.” He leaned back and flexed his fingers. “I’m dammned sorry about that article in the Probe. Did the article cause trouble here?”
She pushed back from her desk and crossed her legs. “Just a small ripple, nothing unmanageable. But I have been worried one of the other kids might mention something to Olivia.”
He flicked his wrist. “Oh, I’ve already shown her the story. She’s fine. I attribute most of that to you.”
Jill smoothed her skirt and managed to stand her ground. “We’re a little off-track here. I thought you wanted me to take you through Olivia’s progress report.” His grin transformed his face into a winsome boy.
“Among other things, yes. Which reminds me, I haven’t thanked you yet for coming to my concert. Why didn’t you stay?”
She gave up trying to keep him on any one subject. “Because I meant it when I told you I need time to sort things through.”
He drummed his fingers against the back of his chair. “Then, why come at all?”
What could she say to make him understand? “How could I not?”
He stood and leaned over her desk, his eyes hot with intent. “Jillian, haven’t you had enough time?”
Jill steadied herself against his sudden nearness. “It’s only been three days, Gavin. But I’m not convinced time will make a difference. Your idea of what Olivia needs, and ours here at Wilson, are worlds apart. If you aren’t committed to the protocol we’ve set, you risk everything—Olivia’s recovery, the success of our clinical trial, a better future for others like her with TBI.” She pushed away from her desk. “How can I respect someone who would put his ego ahead of those things?”
He jerked.
The awkward silence that followed cut through her heart.
He moved away from her desk and leaned up against the wall. “You didn't get a chance to see the picture Liv and I drew. Come with me?”
With some reluctance, she let him take her by the hand and lead her into the classroom.
He held up their picture.
Her first thought was that neither of them could draw a straight line. But after a moment, she understood. Three people and a kitten sat at a table eating ice cream. Their names were printed below. DAD. OLIVIA. DR. JILL. WONDER.
She whirled before he could see her tears, but he slid his arm around her waist and circled her into his arms.
“Sometimes it’s hard for a guy to know what to do—whether a woman really means what she says. I backed off because you said you needed a little space, but I’m not happy with the results. I think you miss me, too, so this is plan B.” He moved away just enough to raise her chin gently, but his kiss could hardly be described as gentle.
“In case you missed it,” he murmured, “This is my way of apologizing. I was playing fast and loose with my word to you, but you’ve brought me to my knees.”
She stepped out of his arms. “I don’t want you on your knees. I want you to do what you promised—what we both committed to”
He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her into submission. Then he pulled away abruptly.
She gasped at the sudden loss of him, leaving her aching for more.
“Before I read about you, I was ready to give up. I was drifting. I couldn’t find anything to hold me in place.”
He kissed her again, tasting her like a starved man. “Then one day, your name literally dropped into my lap. I’d taken Liv to physical therapy. I was paging through a magazine waiting for her when I came across an article you wrote about the affects of TBI on parents.”
He kept talking, his lips pressed to the side of her temple. “I read your article through more than once. I can’t explain it, Jillian. I started to feel again—to hope. When I called the institute, they said admission was closed, but that just made me more determined.”
She stirred, He’s wearing me down. I should resist him. Stand my ground.
“You said you needed time but I’m not willing to waste another second apart.” He bowed his head. “I am back on track. I understand my commitment. For as long as Liv’s in your program, she follows your protocol. We all do.”
Jill’s heart flipped and began to race “You’ve given up hope?”
“No.” His jaw tightened. “But I won’t encourage her, and I have no expectation she will return to music.”
Exhausted, she stepped away. “But Gavin, your hope”
His hand slid around the back of her neck as he drew her up against him again. “You can’t stop me from hoping. Tell me it’s enough that I’ve given you my word.”
****
Wilson’s great hall reeked with excitement as everyone took their seats at the tables set up for the awards ceremony. Olivia leaned over Gavin and whispered, “I wish Master Steven could be here to see me get my award.”
Master Steven? “Who is Master Steven?” Jill asked.
Over the PA system, Ross Chapman announced, “We’re ready to begin. Thank you for coming today. We applaud each and every one of you. And now, join me please in congratulating our director, Dr. Jillian Cole, for another
amazingly successful start to the fall term. Dr. Jill, will you come up and present the awards, please.”
Olivia answered, “He’s my music tutor. He lives with us.”
Blood rushed in her ears. Jill rose, hardly able to look at Gavin. Music tutor?
“Jillian,” Gavin called hoarsely.
Dread dragging at her movements, she looked at him without saying a word before making her way to the front.
Chapter Twenty
Gavin waited as parent after parent crowded in to shake Jill’s hand. Faculty, more parents, and board members milled around, exchanging congratulations and making small talk until Gavin had all he could do to keep from dragging her out of there, mid-conversation. When the hall finally emptied, he caught her arm. “It’s not what you think.”
“Where is Olivia?” she asked.
Her voice was pleasant enough, but the steel in her eyes delivered a hefty chink to his courage. “She’s already left. She’s staying overnight at a friend’s house. I repeat, the situation’s not what you think.”
Jill raised an eyebrow and looked past him. “No? You didn’t hire a music teacher for Olivia?”
He hated that she acted as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. He stood his ground. “No.”
Hands on hips, she said, “I’m giving you another run at this. A music teacher from New York is not living with you and working with Olivia?”
He slammed his fingers through his hair. “As God as my witness, Jillian, how many ways are there to say it? No.”
She dipped her head. “Okay. I believe you.”
“You believe me?” He captured her hands.
The corners of her mouth twitched. Light shimmered in her eyes as she choked back a gurgle of amusement. “Yes.”
Realization dawned. He crossed his arms. “So, while you were giving out awards, and I was sitting at the table wondering how the hell I’d ever get you to believe me, you already knew.”
“You sound irritated.” Her eyes rounded with innocence. “You couldn’t possibly be annoyed with me.”
He adjusted his cuffs. “Well, I think you could have given me some indication…”
“Really?” Jill rested her hands on her hips. “While I was handing out awards to all those hardworking, courageous kids, you expected me to somehow communicate with you in secret, in front of all those people, to let you know I recognized that Olivia is somehow confused about a music teacher?”
He rubbed the side of his face and offered a lopsided grin, “Well, when you put things that way.”
“Perhaps we need a code word,” she suggested.
He looked at her, confused. Was she serious?
“Egg salad, maybe? The term has special meaning for us. Of course, technically egg salad is two words, and I’m not sure it fits well into a public address. How about webcam?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “After ten weeks, I’m a softie for webcams. Wait, is webcam one word or two?” Narrowing her eyes, she shook her head. “Either way, it’s awkward.” She shrugged. “What would you suggest, Gavin?”
“Poker,” he said, catching up.
Her eyebrows locked together. “Poker?”
He offered a slow smile. “We’re both skilled at poker. You with your ability to keep a straight face like you did tonight, and me…”
“You?” she prodded, blowing on an imaginary hand of cards, smiling like a coquette.
The auditorium lights dimmed and went out. Only the exit signs emitted a pale green light.
“At last, we’re alone.” He lunged, unwilling to wait a moment longer.
She sprinted into the back stairwell but her heel slipped and skated out from under her.
He caught her just before she pitched down the stairs and pinned her back against the wall. His face only inches from hers, he growled, “I asked you once if you know what I do to sassy women.”
She pounded his chest. “Let me go, you Bluebeard.”
He grinned and leaned in, dragging his five o’clock shadow against the smooth of her cheek. “Bluebeard?”
“You heard me.”
He tugged gently at the long clip holding her hair in a knot behind her left ear. The clip gave way and her hair spilled everywhere. He slid the clip into the waistband of her skirt, grasped hold of her hair, and playfully up forced her chin.
“Beast,” she accused, her eyes flashing.
He tightened his grip on her hair. “Me pretty,” he rumbled, biting the lobe of her ear before dragging his mouth across her lips. With his teeth, he pulled at her lip and drew it into his mouth.
Her knees give way and she parted her lips.
He seized the opportunity and bent her to the side in a deep kiss, his hand traveling up under her skirt until it rested low on her hip.
“Me pretty,” he growled a second time as his hand explored the splendid curve of her backside, and slipped beneath her panties. He dipped her a second time and then imprisoned her against the wall, lodging his knee between her legs while his hands roamed her breasts. “Show me,” he murmured into her ear.
She chuckled and pushed him away.
“Show me,” he demanded.
“Show you what? That when I do this to you…” She placed her hand between his legs and massaged his obvious need. “You do this to me?” She guided his hand to her own need, slick with welcome. “What will you do now, Bluebeard?”
He gripped her backside. She circled her legs around his waist. He pinned her against the wall with his hips, and ripped open her shirt. Buttons flew like missiles. Time stopped as he stared, appreciating the way her nipples poked through the champagne-colored lace. With expert fingers, he flicked open the front closure. Her breasts sprang free. He feasted on her nakedness, his need mounting as it pressed against her body.
“Mine,” he murmured, taking one of her nipples deep into his mouth.
Moaning, she pushed her body hard against him.
Her moans drove him as he raked his teeth across her, his thumb pressing against her wetness. Without releasing her nipple, he loosened his clothing, freeing himself, yanked her panties to the side and entered her with such force, the air rushed out of her lungs.
She shrieked on impact and demanded, “More, Bluebeard.”
Over and over, he drove into her, his tongue deep inside her mouth. He felt her expand and shatter a moment before he did.
They remained unmoving, leaning against the wall for support until she kissed the side of his neck. “Call me slow but I now understand your poker reference.” She brushed her lips lightly across his. “An effective code word. A bit distracting perhaps…”
He grinned. “I excel at poker.”
“No argument there. Now, how about we get out of here before they arrest us?”
“Arrest us?” What the—arrest them?
She chuckled. “They turn cameras on at night.”
He snatched her shirt closed. “You didn’t think to tell me this before?”
She nuzzled his temple. “When you’re being all piratey, I struggle to remember anything. But they’re not on yet.”
“How do you know?”
She pointed to a discreetly mounted camera. “Because a little red light shows when the camera’s on. We’re in the clear.”
Gavin shrugged out of his sport coat. “You’re missing a few buttons. Put this on.”
They walked the short distance through the glass-encased skyways to Jill’s loft without speaking, their hands finding each other as if they had a language of their own.
Once inside, she drew her thumb over his lips and lifted her head for more of his kisses.
His hands tangled once again in her hair and his lips returned her kiss with slow, deliberate movements. As if they had forever. “You know what I’d like?” His hands locked at the base of her spine.
She looked upward, wide-eyed.
“I’d like some ice.”
She tossed her hair. “You’re thirsty?”
“The ice is for you.”
“But
I don’t want anything to drink right now.”
“The water is not for drinking,” he assured, sliding his hand down the back of her skirt.
“No?” she inquired, slipping out of his jacket. Her shirt gaped.
He caught sight of softly rounded white skin nestled in lace. “But first I’m going to strip you.” He brushed open her shirt and dragged it slowly off her arms. the garment coasted to the floor. He stepped back and leaned his shoulder against the wall crossing his feet. “You do the rest. Start by taking off your bra.”
She turned her back to him and swiveled her hips. “You sure that’s what you want?”
He said nothing.
She made a graceful pirouette and waited, hands over her breasts.
Without moving, he intoned, “I’m waiting.”
She released her breasts, tossed her hair, and opened the front clasp of her bra, unveiling first one breast and then the other.
His smile came slow as she let her bra fall to the floor. “Your breasts could be compared to a great literary work.”
She blushed.
He smiled. Warmth crept into his words. “Do your hair, next. Twist it up.”
“I thought you didn’t like my hair up.”
“This is not about your hair. It’s about the way your body moves. If I were painter, I’d paint you half-dressed just like you are.”
She smiled, separated her hair into three parts and twisted it into a loose braid. Twisting the braid, she pulled the long hairclip from the waistband of her skirt, and secured it in a knot behind her left ear. “Next?”
With a crook of a finger, he beckoned her over. “Come here.”
He watched her move with the sensual grace of a cat.
“You are a cat woman,” he breathed, invading her mouth.
She surrendered easily.
Suddenly, he flipped her, one arm across her breasts and the other holding her face sideways, pinning her back against his chest. He kissed the corner of her mouth, lifted her breasts, and bent over her shoulder to brush his tongue over one of her nipples. “Are the panties you’re wearing one of your favorites?”
On a sigh, she shivered. “Why?”
“Because unless you tell me not to, I’m ripping them off.” He waited.
Naked Hope Page 21