When I’m With You (Indigo)

by LaConnie Taylor-Jones

  With his finger, he lifted her chin, brushing his lips across hers. “I’m sorry, kitten. And on my mother’s grave, I swear I’ll never do anything to hurt you again, and I’ll do whatever it takes to gain your trust.” With the pad of his thumb, he gently wiped away the wetness that still clung to her cheek. Between a kiss at each corner of her mouth, he whispered a request. “Will you let me earn your trust?”

  She tilted her head back to look into his eyes.

  “Will you at least try? That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Yes,” she replied breathlessly.

  He gathered her close. “Missed you, hellion.”

  “Missed you, too.” She leaned back just a bit, not wanting to be too far away from his warm embrace. “The first step toward trust is sharing.” Releasing a hard breath, she turned to stare at the wall. “Remember the night in your car when you asked me how he hurt me?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, I think now it’s time you knew.”

  “All right.”

  “Four years ago, I met a man who on the surface seemed nice, but in the end, he made my life a living hell.”

  Marcel frowned. “How?”

  “He started out being charming, attentive, showing me all the attention a woman dreams about. I think some of my vulnerability to him was because I’d grown up in foster care and didn’t have a family of my own. Two months later, things changed.”

  “How?”

  “He became controlling and obsessive.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “He would call my job at least twenty times a day. He wanted an account of my whereabouts every minute. It became real clear that it wasn’t going to work. I knew he wasn’t going to change, so I called it quits.” With the back of her hand, she wiped at another tear that had fallen. “But he refused to accept that it was over.”

  “What happened after that?”

  She released a long sigh. “The phone calls increased, and he started showing up at my job. When I would come home, he’d be parked outside. It seemed everywhere I went, he was there. He stalked me. Besides my foster mother, Ms. Ruby, I didn’t have a lot of close ties in New Jersey, so I decided to relocate.”

  “To where?”

  “I asked for a job transfer and moved to Atlanta, but he tracked me down.”

  Wrinkles appeared on Marcel’s forehead. “Tracked you down? How?”

  Caitlyn nodded. “He hired a private detective. The mistake I made was using my credit cards, opening a bank account—anything in my name.” She squared her shoulders and continued. “Anyway, I came home one night, and there he was waiting for me inside my condo.” The painful memories caused her to jerk, and her breathing became heavy.

  “Caitlyn, baby, don’t shut down on me now.”

  She sat rigid. Her brain still processed information, but her mouth refused to cooperate with the output. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her.

  “Caitlyn, come on. Baby, you’ve got to trust me.”

  She turned her tear-stained face to him and saw the distress in his eyes. “H-he…”

  “Talk to me, cat eyes.” Marcel pulled her against his chest and spoke over the top of her head. “We’ll deal with whatever it is, together.” He leaned back to see her face. “But I can’t help you if you won’t trust me. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was a whisper and she brushed away another tear.

  “Wait right here.” Marcel made a mad dash and brought back a box of tissue. He knelt in front of her. Pulling out several tissues, he placed them in her hands, then took one and began wiping the tears that fell at a steady pace.

  Still shaking, Caitlyn blew out a long, hard breath, and her voice trembled. “That night…” She lowered her head.

  Lifting her face up, he softly asked, “What happened that night, baby?”

  “He…raped me.”

  Chapter 6

  Marcel’s body went rigid. Emotions swirled through him so swiftly he stopped breathing for a split second. He swayed from side to side as he rose to his feet. Shock, sadness, and rage ripped through him simultaneously.

  “Baby, I’m so sorry…I didn’t know.” He sat next to her. “We don’t have to talk about this.” He glanced over and saw her shake her head. Reaching over, he clasped her trembling hands within his steady ones, silently communicating that continuing the conversation was her call.

  Lines formed around Caitlyn’s full-lipped mouth, and she squeezed harder. “You know, it’s funny, but it’s still hard for people to believe that someone you’re involved with can rape you.” She then turned to him. “But it happens. And it happened to me over and over until the next morning.” With her free hand, she swiped at her tears. Her voice was hoarse and barely audible. “No means no. And if a man doesn’t accept that, then it’s rape as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, he forced me back to New Jersey. I let him think that I believed him when he said it would never happen again. The only thing I wanted was out. I was no match against him physically, so I had to think of a way I could beat him.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I outsmarted him.”

  Pain settled around Marcel’s heart. He felt pure contempt for the man who’d violated her. He couldn’t imagine any man forcing himself on a woman. As far as he was concerned, any man who would was the worst scum on earth. It took everything he had to keep his voice calm. “How did you do it?”

  “It took me weeks, but little by little, I cashed out everything I had—my retirement plan, savings, stock, bonds, you name it. I packed only the things I needed and figured out an escape plan. I let things settle down for a while. One day, my opportunity came when he went out of town on a family emergency—his sister was in a car accident. I left that day, and I’ve never looked back.”

  “Didn’t you have friends, anyone who could help you?”

  “At first, I didn’t want to bring any of them into that kind of drama because I would never have forgiven myself if he’d done anything to them. And trust me, I believe in my heart he was capable of it. I finally confided in Vic, and she was my saving grace.” A half chuckle escaped. “I don’t even own a cell phone. I didn’t want to take the chance of him tracking me down again.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Everywhere, anywhere. I never stayed in any place too long.”

  “But you said Vic helped you, right?”

  She nodded. “She did.”

  He shook his head in confusion. “How? Why didn’t you just come here in the first place?”

  “That’s what he would have expected. Vic is one of the main reasons he hasn’t found me to this day.”

  Marcel shook his head again. “I don’t understand.”

  “For the first year he would call her to see if she knew where I was. Of course, she’d always say she didn’t know and would tell him she heard I was staying with a friend here or there. Vic quarterbacked everything with our friends, especially Tara and Chandler. So, when he’d go to check it out, they would send him in another direction.”

  “In other words, you guys had him going in circles.”

  “Yes, and thank God, it worked. It gave me just a little more time to put more distance between us.”

  Marcel continued to hold her hand and tried to ease the tightness in his fingers and the anger that raged inside him. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  Caitlyn’s breathing changed, and her voice thickened. “Through it all, I made it. But it left me just a tad short on trusting men.”

  Marcel had always believed negotiation was the best way to settle a dispute. But he knew if he could get his hands on the man who’d raped Caitlyn, screw negotiation. The bastard would be dead. “Who did this to you, baby?”

  She lowered her head and shook it.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Marcel, please, I don’t want you anywhere near—”

  “I can find out, you know.”

  “Please, just leave it be.�
�

  “Why?” He half shouted and rose to his feet. “Some low-life asshole who calls himself a man brutalizes the hell out of you, turns your life upside down, makes you leave everything you’ve worked for, and you want me to leave it be. Hell no.” He stalked off to the other side of the room.

  Caitlyn followed and placed her hands on his arm. “Baby, don’t you see? If you find him, go after him for any reason, he finds me.” She cupped his face. “Leave it be. Please.”

  Her endearment warmed his heart because she’d never referred to him as “baby” before. He nodded begrudgingly. “All right, I see your point. I give you my word I won’t go after the son-of-a-bitch.” Then he paused. “What’d you say his name was again?”

  She took in a deep breath and slowly released it. “I didn’t.”

  He knew she was upset, but she was smart, too. She wasn’t so distressed that she didn’t pick up on his back door way of finding out the information he wanted. He gathered her in his embrace and held her, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “Thank you.”

  With the fear of the past no longer a threat, she placed her head against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. “For what?”

  “For trusting me.”

  It was a long time before either said a word. Finally, he broke the silence and placed his hand on her stomach. “Had dinner yet?”

  * * *

  Caitlyn didn’t expect the kitchen’s décor to be as elegant as that of the living room she’d walked out of. A crystal chandelier illuminated the parquet-top table that could easily seat six. The mahogany cabinets had clear glass inserts and showcased an array of glassware, china and sterling silver.

  After washing her hands, Caitlyn stood at the oversized island next to Marcel. “So, what do you need me to do?”

  Marcel nodded toward the refrigerator. “How about tackling the salad? You should find everything you need on the second shelf.”

  “Got it.”

  “Are you allergic to seafood?”

  “No.” With everything for the salad piled in her arms, Caitlyn shut the refrigerator door with her foot. She glanced at the pot on the stove from which a mouth-watering aroma was coming. “Does it have shrimp in it?”

  He gave her a sexy wink. “Of course. You can’t have roots from N’awlins, baby, and not love shrimp jambalaya.”

  “Smells good.”

  “Trust me, it is.” Marcel bunched his brows together. “You’ve had shrimp before, right?”

  “Yes, but I only like them deep fried.”

  He dipped a spoon in the pot and lifted out a jumbo-sized shrimp. “Come on. Try mine. I guarantee you’ll love it.”

  Caitlyn scrunched her nose. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes.” Marcel chuckled. “Come on. Open.” He eased the shrimp inside her mouth.

  “Um…um…um, now that’s good.”

  * * *

  During dinner, Caitlyn learned just how different she and Marcel were. She loved simplicity; Marcel relished grandeur. For the most part she was even-tempered; it took a lot to set her off and make her mad. She took things slowly. Marcel, on the other hand, could spiral off the deep end if things didn’t go his way or according to his schedule. But Marcel always maintained control of his emotions, and she knew that it would take something near and dear to his heart for him to totally lose it. Amazingly, as different as they were, there were many things they had in common. Both claimed to be Wimbledon champions because of their passion for playing tennis, and listening to smooth jazz ended their days.

  She’d finally gotten Marcel to admit he was a secret member of the Black Hole, the notorious but loyal group of Oakland Raiders football fans. Since he had private box seats, she accepted his invitation to the home games on one condition: that he tutor her in French, a language he spoke fluently.

  While he cleared the dishes, she went to the family room and looked intently at the array of pictures. A while later, he came up behind her and settled his arms around her waist. With her back against his chest, she placed her arms on top of his.

  Marcel leaned around, staring at the intense look on her face. “What’s wrong, kitten?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You sure?

  “Positive.” She pointed to the wall in front of her. “I was just admiring the pictures of your family. Guess it made me think about what it would have been like to have a family of my own.”

  “You’ve never told me much about your family.”

  She turned to face him, but didn’t answer right away. “There’s not a lot to tell. It was just my mom and me up until I was five. One day, she didn’t pick me up from school and no one could find her. Since we didn’t have any other family, I was placed in child protective services.” Pain settled in her voice. “It was kind of scary, being only five and shifting from the only place you’ve ever called home to the home of a complete stranger.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it was like.”

  “Not pretty. Trust me. I bounced from one foster home to the other. Some families were kind. Some were in it just for the money. I guess that’s part of the reason I’m reluctant to ask people for help. Growing up, I had to pretty much depend on myself.”

  “How long would you stay at each home?”

  “In the beginning, usually not long. For seven years, I kind of bounced through the system. When I turned twelve, I was placed with Ms. Ruby and stayed until I left for college. She’s the only family I ever had until I met Vic and her family.” She smiled. “Oh, Marcel, you’d love Ms. Ruby. She’s a retired teacher and never had kids of her own. God, I don’t know where I’d be if it hadn’t been for her.”

  “You really love her, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes. She’s my mother in every sense of the word. You know, she could’ve retired the year I left for college but continued to work so I didn’t have to take on a part-time job.”

  “I hope to meet her someday.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “Did you ever find out what happened to your mom?”

  “She had a heart attack the day she didn’t pick me up from school. She died that night.”

  He tenderly asked, “What about your dad? Do you know anything about him?”

  “No. That’s one of the things I’ve always regretted, not knowing him. I don’t know who he is, or if he’s dead or alive. But that’s next on my to-do list, to try and find out. I want to have closure to that part of my life, if nothing more.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  She shook her head. “His name isn’t on my birth certificate.”

  “Perhaps I could help out.”

  She looked puzzled. “How?”

  “I’ve got a friend who’s a P.I. I could ask him to do some investigating.”

  Her eyes shone with excitement. “Really?” She thought about her budget, and just as quickly, the glimmer faded.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t have the money in my budget to spend right now. I’ll wait until—”

  “Don’t worry about that. We’ll work something out.”

  “But, Marcel, I don’t want to be obligated to you for anything.”

  “Okay. Listen, if you feel uncomfortable about accepting the money, would you consider it a loan?”

  “Well, I guess so. As long as we’re clear that it’s a loan.”

  He chuckled. “We’re clear. And I’m sure you’ll come up with a payment plan that’s acceptable.”

  She nodded graciously at his offer. “Thank you. I’ll pay back every dime.”

  “I trust you, kitten.” He placed a kiss at each corner of her mouth.

  “You need to know that I’ve always paid my bills on time.”

  “Umm-hmm.” He rained kisses along her temple.

  “We better go clean up.”

  “All taken care of,” he whispered, never ceasing his actions. Burrowing his face in the space between her neck and shoulder, he bit down gently, and
moments later, the warmth of his breath blew the sting away. “Tell me what you miss most about Newark.”

  “My two dogs.” She snuggled closer to him. “I knew I couldn’t take them with me, and it broke my heart to have to leave them behind. The last thing I did before I left Newark was drop them off at a shelter to be placed for adoption.”

  “What kind of dogs?” His tongue left a wet trail along her slender neck.

  “Bichon Frise,” she whispered with her head thrown back.

  Marcel lifted his head and smiled. “Were you guys close?”

  “We slept together every night.” She saw his eyes widen in mock surprise and playfully punched his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

  Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss against his cheek. “It’s been a wonderful evening.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and walked them until her back rested against the wall. “In more ways than one.”

  Caitlyn reached up and drew his head down to hers. She’d dreamed of his kiss, but fantasy was nothing compared to reality. She’d longed to feel his lips on hers again. Marcel’s mouth stirred sensations within her she’d never felt before and revealed a need to know what it was like to be thoroughly devoured by him and feast on everything the man who gently held her in his arms had to give.

  Without shame, she molded her slender body against him and felt the unhurried gyration of his hips rolling against hers. She tightened her arms around his waist, urging him to continue to fuel the fire he’d created. Greedily, she took his tongue, not wanting the kiss to end, and savored the intoxicating intimacy they shared.

  The need to breathe eventually brought the kiss to an end. Marcel released a ragged moan and placed his forehead against hers. Barely able to replace his oxygen supply, he stepped back. “Come on. I’ll follow you home. I want to be sure you get in safe.”

  “Uh, well…okay.” She looked down, then back up at him. “Marcel, what I told you about the rape…I just don’t want you to think that it…” She pursed her lips and dropped her head.

  “That it what?”

  She shrugged. “That it left me with hang-ups about sex. I-I’m not loco behind it, okay?” She shrugged again. “You might be one of those brothers who thinks a woman’s damaged goods.”