Sparring Partners

by Leigh Morgan

  "I told you, because I don't need to be."

  "Why are you here?"

  "I want to be."

  Henry reached around Finn and put her newest creation on the table behind her. He didn't touch her but he came close enough that she felt his heat. Hell, she could have felt it five feet away. Henry had a way of binding her to him with invisible waves of silken desire, soft like raw silk and equally as strong. Finn shook away the image and tried to shut out how good he smelled. Like cut grass, soap and Henry. That scent burned its way so deeply into her psyche it wasn't ever coming out.

  Freya came bounding in through the open door and wound herself around Henry's legs. He hadn't moved back, so all Finn had to do was bend down slightly to stroke her purring pet.

  "Where have you been, girl? I haven't seen you in days."

  "She's been sleeping with me." Henry said, picking up her giant cat. Freya wound herself around his neck, purring even louder.

  Traitor.

  "She doesn't like to be held."

  "Really?" Henry rubbed Freya's ears with one hand and nuzzled her head with his jaw, all the while grinning at Finn, eyes laughing. "Are we talking about the cat, or you? Because if we're talking about you, I remember exactly how much you like to be touched. Especially here."

  Henry ran one finger around her ear, down the side of her neck and across her jugular vein to the hollow at the base of her throat where she dotted perfume every morning after her shower. The touch was butterfly soft. Finn felt it in the marrow of her bones.

  Two sets of eyes monitored her reaction. Henry's pale green and gray gaze, taking in every flutter of her skin, the escalation of her heartbeat, and the flaring of her nostrils that she couldn't control, and Freya's sleepy amber eyes, willing her to let go and cross to the dark side where purring your pleasure is allowed, anticipated, and amazingly satisfying.

  When she didn't turn into a puddle of feline mush, Freya looked away disdainfully, as if to say, 'stupid human why else are you here'?

  Maybe her cat had a point, but it wasn't one Finn was ready to concede just yet. She was here for more than holding and being held, for more than loving and being loved, she was here for...well...art. She glanced at her most recent artistic achievement. Well, maybe modeling clay wasn't her higher purpose.

  "Why aren't you at the lake? You're missing some great sailing, and Thorson makes one hell of a cherries jubilee whenever William's present for dessert."

  "I wanted to be alone."

  "Why?"

  "I need to think."

  "About what?"

  Freya must have gotten bored with all the talk because she jumped down and scampered out the door.

  "Things. Why do you care?"

  "Why do you think?"

  "You are impossible to talk to."

  Henry cupped her face in his hands. "Then let's not talk." Henry bent to kiss her but Finn turned away. He didn't try to hold her, he took a step back in fact, giving her space and the opportunity to think without being surrounded by his heat, his scent.

  "Why are you alone in your workshop, Finn? You haven't slept in days. What's going on in that beautiful head of yours that has you pacing at all hours of the night."

  Finn didn't even ask how he knew that. Maybe he was guessing, but one look at the dark circles under her eyes and anyone could tell she wasn't sleeping, you didn't need to be a master of surveillance to see it.

  She looked at Henry, neither affirming nor denying, choosing instead to say nothing. She clenched her teeth and raised her jaw, daring him to continue seeking answers to questions he had no business asking.

  "What's bothering you?"

  "You mean besides you?"

  Henry smiled, a slow curving of his lips without teeth, but then, he didn't need full wattage to be devastating.

  "Now we're getting somewhere. Tell me, sweetheart. What am I doing that's got you up nights and locked in here creating porn all day?" His tone was light, soft, and seductive even as the truth of his words cut through her with the ease of a samurai blade.

  Finn strove for anger. Unfortunately all she could muster was the frustration that had been choking her since she realized Henry was different, all of ten seconds into meeting the man.

  "First you're here. Then you're not. You want me, then you're gone. You tell me to give up Peter and all other lovers, and then you decide to sleep alone. You're living in my house and I feel like a stranger everywhere but here." Finn felt the wetness on her cheek, but she refused to wipe it away or even acknowledge that it belonged to her. "And now, even my workshop reminds me of you."

  Henry let her ramble, and when she finished, he let her sit for a moment. He didn't try to touch her again, but he did grab the bench seat she used from the kitchen. He sat across from her close enough to touch but far enough away so he couldn't be accused of looming, a hard thing to accomplish given his size and how short the bench was. He didn't say anything, sitting patiently, until she looked at him.

  "This, this thing between us, has never been about what I want. I've known what I wanted since you slew me with those blue-jean eyes of yours. I've done what you've asked, what you said you wanted, even when I knew that what you said you wanted and what you really needed were two different things. I've walked away against my better judgment because you asked me to."

  Henry risked taking her hand, Finn let him.

  "I'm not walking away anymore. You are a stubborn, creative, pain-in-the-ass when you want to be and unwavering in your love of your family. I know who you are, Finn, and I love you. I want to be a part of your life. I want to be a member of your family. I want to be one of the people you'd do anything for because you love them. I want you."

  Finn began to panic. She was having difficulty pulling air into her lungs and the little bit she did take in didn't seem to make its way past her throat. She started to pull her hand away, but Henry held tight. Her eyes met his. He looked so certain, so sure in what he wanted, so at peace with what he was saying. What was he saying? Was he looking for forever? Holy crap, forever to her meant adopting a cat.

  "You're afraid?"

  Finn pulled at her hand again. He kept it. "Just what is it you're afraid of?"

  There's the rub. Finn had no way of isolating the fear coursing through her veins into separate, definable answers. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, briefly closed her eyes, willing her thoughts to slow so she could get them out without sounding like an idiot.

  "You. You scare the hell out of me."

  Henry immediately opened his fist, releasing her hand if she wanted it back. Finn let it sit in his palm. He looked surprised and maybe a little hurt by her statement. She wrapped her fingers around the side of his hand where it rested next to his knee. So much for not sounding like an idiot.

  "I don't want you to leave, Henry, and that scares me. I think about you all the time. It's bled into my work, as you can see." Finn smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Henry didn't return her smile. He just sat there watching her, taking in every sound, every movement she made, his intensity palpable even though she had no clue what he was thinking. Her heart kicked painfully in her chest.

  "This is my home. I've given everything I've got to Potters Woods. It's my life. And now I can't think about any of it without you. I never wanted to share this part of me."

  "And that scares you?"

  "Damn right it scares me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'll have nowhere to run to when you leave."

  "Did I say anything to make you believe I'm leaving."

  Finn shrugged. "People leave. They don't always telegraph when they're going."

  Henry closed his eyes, slumped his shoulders and expelled an audible breath. He sat there a moment, quietly, not looking at her. Finn had no idea what was going through his mind, whether he was silently laughing, crying or getting ready to bolt. She was willing to bet it wasn't number two.

  "I'm a traditional man. You may not know that about me, because of th
is crazy job I have, but deep down, or not so deep down if you're looking, I am a small town kid with small town ideas of how things should be done. Do you trust me on this, Finn?"

  She frowned. "Of course I trust you. I have no clue what you're telling me, but I trust you with my life."

  Henry shook his head, laughing without mirth. "With your life, but not your heart?"

  "I didn't say that, Henry."

  He gave her a look that said that's exactly what she said and she wasn't getting out of it that easily.

  "I love you. Do you love me?"

  Finn didn't need to think about the answer, it hit her on the head halfway through the phallus. "Yes."

  "Yes, what." He asked, apparently needing to hear her say it.

  "I love you, Henry. So much it hurts. I don't sleep without you, and I've started working with clay."

  This time he did smile at her and it was like a ray of sunshine warming her, making her feel safe. "Marry me."

  "What?"

  "Marry me."

  "Why?"

  He laughed. "I love you. You love me. I'm a traditional kind of guy, where I come from that's reason enough."

  "I'm not traditional."

  "I know. Marry me anyway. You don't have to wear white."

  "Couldn't we just live together?" Finn felt numb. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't a proposal.

  "No."

  "Why not?" Finn asked, affronted.

  "And run the risk of you kicking me out every time I piss you off, no way. I like it here. I love you. If you want me, and my art worthy cock, you're going to have to make an honest man out of me."

  Finn hit him. Not hard, just enough to make her point. "That's blackmail."

  "That's a fact, Ms. Mohr. I'd say you've got some deciding to do." Henry looked at his watch. "You've got about five minutes."

  "But I don't want to be married." Finn blurted out.

  Henry didn't seem to take offense. In fact, now that she'd admitted she loved him, he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. Her? Not so much.

  "That's the price you'll have to pay for unlimited access to this body, and my unlimited attention to yours. Call it the price of sin if that makes you feel any better." He laced the word 'sin' with so much promise she wasn't sure if she wanted to strangle him, jump him or hit him with her mallet after she found it. Option two held the most appeal, but only because he was grinning from ear to ear in that way he did before he licked every part of her that required oral attention.

  Ten minutes later they were married.

  It was a non-traditional ceremony. Peter, the painter and online minister, officiated. It was all legal, witnessed, and recorded on video so Finn couldn't say it didn't happen. Henry told her he wanted stills for his album as well. They set up the photo shoot right next to Finn's nymph statue in the front garden. Freya, Loki and all three deerhounds sat, observing the ceremony, bearing silent witness and offering Finn moral support. Henry didn't need any.

  The groom wore an ear to ear grin, he just couldn't seem to stop smiling. The bride, barefooted in clay streaked overalls wore an expression best described as contentment on her lovely face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Jordon was in the study with William and two men Reed didn't know when she walked in, inadvertently inserting herself into a business meeting, not realizing her mistake until it was too late to exit gracefully. She crossed the room to Jordon, noticing the tension in his stance, his formality, and the coolness in his green-gold eyes that belonged to a harsher man than she knew.

  Reed stumbled, and her smile faltered, when he turned that steel jawed countenance toward her. He frowned and she didn't know if he was displeased with her dress, her inability to keep her feet firmly under her, or both.

  This was not the same man who told her he loved her an hour ago. This wasn't the same man she could still feel when she pressed her legs together. She wanted to shake him and scream 'who are you and what have you done with my husband', but the air was thick with tension and she was suddenly unsure of where she stood.

  Jordon set down his glass filled with a small amount of what appeared to be untouched scotch or bourbon and gestured for Reed to come to him. He even managed to muster a polite smile, so tightly controlled and contrived it cut her like Damascus steel, beautiful to look at and twice as deadly when wielded by a master.

  "Gentleman, may I introduce my lovely wife." Jordon took Reed's hand and squeezed. In warning?

  William and a young blond-haired gentleman were already standing. The third man, a distinguished looking Japanese man about the same age as William, stood as she came forward. William arrived at her side, surprising Reed with his warm, ready smile. What was going on here?

  He bent and kissed her cheek. "You look particularly beautiful this evening, my dear." He said, pulling her away from Jordon with a smoothness she'd only seen on CNN footage of politicians with their handlers. Efficient. Effortless. Effective.

  Jordon didn't so much as blink as William whisked her toward the other men with what seemed to be avuncular pride.

  "Peichin Takahara, may I introduce my niece by marriage, Reed." He turned to Reed, "Reed, Mr. Takahara."

  Reed held out her hand before she realized her mistake. She'd been in the dojo long enough to know how to execute a formal bow. She was really off her game tonight. She pulled her hand back and managed a serviceable thirty-degree bow from her hips. "Mr. Takahara."

  He returned her gesture. "Mrs. Bennett."

  "Actually, it's Ms. Mohr." She said, remembering too late Thorson's advice when he delivered her invitation about Mrs. Bennett having an easier time this weekend than Ms. Mohr.

  "Of course." He said, bowing again in that very formal way that had Reed feeling about two feet tall. She couldn't even look in Jordon's direction, she was afraid she'd throw up.

  William laughed easily. "My niece is a very forward thinking woman, Peichin. It's good to have that kind of spunk in the blood lines."

  Reed stiffened, then forced herself to relax. It wouldn't do her any good to break William's jaw before dinner. That might actually be cause for a divorce or an annulment in Japan, she'd have to Google it. William stopped in front of the blond man with the kind eyes she'd seen as she entered the room. He wasn't quite as tall or as broad as Jordon, but his eyes were more welcoming.

  "Reed, this is Jay Giles. He and Jordon are responsible for parallel divisions of B.H. They're both after my job."

  Jay Giles took Reed's hand. "A pleasure Ms. Mohr." The emphasis he added to her name was subtle. The twinkle in his eye as he said it was not. He was teasing her, and she badly needed it given Jordon's defection to planet evil.

  "Pleased to meet you Mr. Giles– please, call me Reed."

  "If you call me Jay." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, his merry eyes glancing briefly to Jordon to gauge his reaction.

  "Jay it is." Reed smiled.

  Jordon was at her side before Jay Giles let go of her hand, leading her toward the door. "I'll show Reed where the ladies are gathering." He said as he walked, holding her hand, pulling her one step behind. It may have looked like a courteous gesture to the men in the room, but it wasn't.

  Not to be outdone, Reed smiled expansively and said in her faux 'monarch of the realm' voice, "Forgive the intrusion, gentlemen. I'll leave you to your business. See you at dinner."

  ...

  Jordon pulled Reed into the nearest room down the hall after he counted to ten in Japanese, French, Latin and just for kicks, Welsh. Welsh had taken him the longest to learn, and it was the counting language he was most proud of. The closest room when they stopped happened to be a bathroom. At least it was unoccupied.

  He guided Reed in and locked the door behind them. Jordon had every intention of being calm and reasonable with her. He'd had plenty of time to calm down as he yanked her down the hallway.

  "What the hell were you thinking?"

  "I'm thinking I entered the Twilight Zone, and you're Frankenstein's
monster on crack." She shot back at him, hands on the hips of that ridiculous dress she was wearing. He'd get to that too, if she didn't give him a heart attack first.

  "Do you know who that was in there?"

  "The only creature I recognized as human in there was Jay. The rest of you I'm not so sure about."

  "B.H. has been wooing Peichin Takahara for months. Giles and I have been trying to get his attention and buy his company. Whichever one of us manages to do that will be the next CEO of B.H." Jordon felt his blood pressure rise as his tone got more controlled. He could feel each word being enunciated with precision and couldn't ever remember being this damned mad. Ever.

  "And you just insulted him."

  "I did no such thing."

  "You corrected a man, arguably the most powerful man on his island not in public office, who very few would presume to correct, none of them women. Takahara is exceedingly traditional and conservative. He's old school, and you just threw all that in his face five seconds after meeting the man."

  "First of all, I didn't know I was interrupting a business meeting. Silly me, I thought when I was invited to dinner and a reception in my honor, under the pretense of getting to know your family, that that was actually the reason I was asked to be here."

  Jordon steeled his heart against the unshed tears in Reed's eyes and the shake in her voice. She'd damn near cost him his job, his life, his place in the world. Fuck.

  "Second– "she held up her fingers just in case he couldn't count to two"– I had no idea I was to play the role of silent, dutiful wife to your caveman-samurai-asshole. You could have told me."

  "Third." She was hiccupping now. "How dare you treat me like something you would scrape off your shoe. My name is Reed Muse Mohr. If I choose to add Bennett after that, it's my choice, not yours. I am not an appendage you can dress up, show off, and stick back in the closet until the next time you need to drag me out."

  Reed was spitting fire at him now, which was fine with him. He was mad as hell too, so mad, the accuracy of the picture she painted of him missed the mark entirely.