After he had washed the remnants of the wine away, she took the cloth and returned the favor, kissing and touching softly and passionately until he lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the tub.
He toweled her dry and wrapped the large bath sheet around her, hooking it between her breasts and kissing the skin there to seal the lock. Taking her hand, he led her from the bathroom’s steamy atmosphere to the crisp coolness of the bedroom suite.
“It seems like years since I’ve made love to you.” He reclined on the bed, taking her with him.
She lay atop him and could feel the hardness of his desire against her belly. “Then let’s not wait a minute more.”
He tore the towel away and rolled her over, covering her mouth with his. His wine-sweetened tongue thrust into her mouth boldly, nearly stealing her breath with his need.
His rhythm in the tub had been slow, luxurious, savoring. Angela gasped at the sudden frantic change but matched him touch for touch and kiss for kiss. She lost herself in a multicolored delirium as he suckled her neck, laved her breasts and eased her legs apart with his knees to dip his fingers inside her until she pooled slick and ready.
“No more, Jack. I want you inside me. Now.”
He responded quickly, stopping only to slip on a condom before he plunged inside. She lifted her hips, accepting the full length of him, encouraging him to love her to the core. She needed no more teasing. She needed only him.
His strokes were rhythmic, deep and long. She met each thrust, giving a little of herself and gaining a part of him. His pace increased. The sensations came in rapid succession. She didn’t know where one started and the other ended.
But she didn’t care. His loving was like a safety net, ready to catch her and giving her confidence to jump again and again. They clutched each other and kissed each other until the air exploded around them. When the eruptions subsided, they touched and soothed and kissed until they fell, weak and sated, into a deep sleep.
BEFORE THE SUN ROSE over the eastern horizon, Angela awoke and checked the clock. Her body, slowed by a delicious ache, barely cooperated as she grabbed her sandals by the straps, draped her dress and underthings over her arm, kissed Jack on the cheek as he slept and returned to her room.
She’d been in her bed for less than an hour when the sun came up. Sleep came in uneven snatches, mixed with the luscious memories of their lovemaking. They’d come together more times than she’d thought possible, each time fulfilling another fantasy and reaching a higher plateau. By the time they’d finally fallen asleep, each knew every inch of the other’s body.
And possibly every measure of the other’s soul.
When Dani knocked on her door at seven-thirty, wide-awake and ready to attack the day with a nine-year-old’s enthusiasm, Angela couldn’t help falling into a vibrant mood.
And why not? Today, she’d tell Jack the truth.
She showered and dressed, amazed she hadn’t considered this particular scenario before. She’d been so tied up in the past, she’d failed to see the possibilities for the future. If Jack loved her as she suspected, she and Dani could look forward to a lifetime of commitment and caring.
Jack went to the main house and had a picnic breakfast packed by the time she had Dani dressed. Dani insisted they eat in transit, and Jack cheerfully concurred. Though Angela felt no need to argue, she wondered how many times she’d succumb to this invincible tag team. She loved them both so much. For once, she looked forward to losing.
The cemetery, located a mile outside Castiloga, burgeoned with draping trees and stone paths. Though not large, the memorial garden housed over a hundred of the local deceased, with some tombstones dating back to the early eighteen hundreds. A local winemaker who knew Chryssie had offered a space in his family plot. At the time, Angela had reservations about accepting. Yet every time she passed through the tall wrought-iron gates, she remembered why she’d said yes. Serenity, history and beauty mingled here like seashells and seaweed on a white-sanded shore.
Angela leaned toward the front seat, pointing out where to park. As he eased the convertible into the space, Dani gasped.
“The flowers! We forgot to pick flowers!”
Angela touched her daughter on the shoulder. “We’ll come back again before we leave, sweetie. We’ll bring flowers then.”
Dani’s frown deepened. “It’s still early. Let’s go back.”
“Hey,” Jack interrupted, his voice calm and hushed. “I saw a roadside stand on our way here. Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll go buy some.”
“Would you?” Dani’s smile rivaled the morning sun. “Pick pretty ones. Mama liked red, okay?”
She threw open the car door and skipped up the path, not looking to see if Angela followed.
Laying her hand on Jack’s shoulder as thanks, Angela got out of the car. She walked slowly, prepared to allow Dani ample time alone at her mother’s grave. She usually didn’t intrude until shortly before they left.
Angela scanned the landscape for Mr. Davis, the cemetery’s caretaker. She found him about fifty yards away, armed with his rake, tending the graves nestled under a sprawling willow. He shielded his eyes with his hand, then smiled in recognition. Angela waved, sat down and pulled a book of poetry Chryssie had left her from her purse. After spotting Dani yanking a weed from beside Chryssie’s memorial and chattering with her usual animated excitement, she let contentment ease over her. She opened the book and began to read.
JACK BOUGHT two dozen roses at the roadside stand then hurried to the car. He smiled and laid the flowers carefully on the seat, replaying the look on Dani’s face when he’d offered to get them. The delight in her sea-green eyes warmed him to the marrow. When was the last time he’d felt such gratification from a smile?
Last night. With Angela.
Of course, he reasoned as he retraced the road to the cemetery, the reactions differed greatly. He’d been miffed about Angela’s keeping Dani a secret, but now he knew her reasons. The child inspired similar protectiveness in him. Without a doubt, he’d do anything to make the munchkin happy.
He parked in the same spot as before, debated, then decided to leave the top down on such a clear morning. He stepped out of the car and scanned the cemetery for signs of Angela and Dani.
“They’re down over that hill a bit,” a voice volunteered.
Turning, he found himself greeted warmly by a wizened old man with a rake.
“Thanks.”
“I’m Sam Davis. I take care of this place.”
After the man extracted his hand from a thick gardening glove, Jack shook it.
“Jack Sullivan.”
The man’s liquid gray eyes narrowed, then brightened as if he recognized Jack from somewhere.
“Well, I’ll be. I wondered when the father would get himself up here.”
“The father?” Jack pulled his hand away, unsure if the shaking he felt came from him or Mr. Davis.
“I was here when they laid Miss Chryssie down.” He balanced his rake against his thigh and shoved his gloves into the pocket of his grass-stained coat. “That little angel of hers near about broke my heart, being so strong and brave. I look forward to her visit every year. Miss Angela pays me extra to make sure the grave is nicely tended all year round.”
“The father?” Jack repeated.
Davis eyed him warily. “Don’t tell me I’m mistaken. I’ve seen hundreds of relations tracking up and down these hills. Miss Chryssie’s picture is on her headstone. I see both of you in that little girl as plain as I see the sun in the sky.”
Jack’s chest tightened. Bile rose in his throat. He jerked around, searching for Dani, needing to look at her one more time and then knowing he really didn’t have to.
12
“WHEN WERE YOU going to tell me?”
Angela dropped her book, startled by the knife-edge tone of Jack’s voice. He’d approached with the stealth of a starved tiger. The ferocity in his eyes heightened the comparison.
He knew.
Just in case, she feigned confusion. “What are you talking about, Jack?”
He snatched her arm above the elbow and yanked her until they were nearly eye-to-eye. Angela tossed a cautious glance over her shoulder, hoping Dani hadn’t seen. When he caught her movement, he loosened his grip. But not by much.
“You heard me, Angela. When were you going to tell me that Dani is my daughter?”
Through tight teeth, the question seethed with anger. His grip, slowly increasing in pressure from clamp to vise, cut off her circulation. She struggled against the pain.
“Last night. This morning. When I knew you wouldn’t take her. When I thought you’d stay.”
He released her quickly and took two steps back, breathing raggedly, staring into the distance where Dani knelt beside Chryssie’s grave talking nonstop and giggling at a scampering squirrel. His eyes became liquid and his clenched jaw quivered. His hands were fists at his side.
Angela snatched off her sunglasses and waited, swallowing to dispel the lump in her throat, willing her bottom lip to stop shaking. How could she have done this to him? In all the years she’d known him, she never remembered seeing such fury. Such agony. She folded the sunglasses and clutched them in her hand. She heard the plastic frames crack. Slowly, she lowered herself to the bench, waiting for him to speak.
In the span of his silent rage, Dani caught sight of him, waved, then scurried across the lawn, thwarting their discussion.
“Did you bring the flowers?” She climbed into Angela’s lap as if she was still a toddler.
“Two dozen.” When he spoke to her, his voice softened. His hands relaxed. His smile came involuntarily. He couldn’t help staring at her, scrutinizing her features, comparing them to his. “Mr. Davis offered to get water for the vase.”
She’d hooked her hands around Angela’s neck and looked at him beneath caramel-colored lashes. Her round green eyes, shaped like his, tugged at him with a force he’d never known before.
He had a child. The realization would have taken his breath away right there had he not known to hide this from Dani until he was sure.
God, how he envied Angela, holding Dani so lovingly.
And how he resented her for keeping this secret.
“I’ll go get them,” Angela volunteered.
“No, let me. I want to show Mr. Davis the statue I made at camp for Mom.” Angela released her with a kiss on the cheek.
Once Dani had crossed to the other side of the walkway, Jack attempted to hang on to the comfort and contentment Dani inspired. It wasn’t easy. She was his, wasn’t she?
“How recently did you know?” He started the conversation with no hesitation. He’d always believed Angela to be the one innately honest person he knew. He prayed she wouldn’t let him down now, though he already knew she had.
“Do you mean how recently did I suspect Dani was your daughter or how recently did I suspect Chryssie lied to me about the real identity of Dani’s biological father?”
He nodded, realizing the deception had to lead back to Chryssie. The night they’d been together had been a fluke—a mistake made by two hyper-hormonal teenagers who’d had too much to drink. Yet if Dani was the product of this brief liaison, he had a right to know.
“What did Chryssie tell you?”
“She didn’t tell me a thing.” Angela swiped away an errant lock of auburn hair. “She let me believe Richard Lassiter was the baby’s father, but as far as she was concerned, the baby was hers and hers alone. She forbade me to ever mention him.”
“What about the birth certificate?” He kept his voice calm, rational, hoping his heart would follow suit.
“She left the father part blank and set up a will naming me as guardian. I was in college and already working. I didn’t question her. She seemed to be doing all the right things.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and clutched the material inside. “Keeping a baby’s existence from its father was the right thing?”
She bit her bottom lip and turned away.
The question had come out with more anger than he’d intended. He hadn’t been there. He had no right to judge. He calmed himself with a deep breath. “When did you realize Richard wasn’t the father?”
“About two years ago, Dani became very ill.” She drew her leg underneath her and shifted uncomfortably. “She had a mild case of hepatitis, but for a while, I worried she suffered from something genetic, something she might need a donor for, or medical information from a blood relative. I decided to search for Richard then, against Chryssie’s wishes.”
“She was gone by then.”
“Chryssie is never gone from our lives, Jack.” Her tone resonated with frustration and sadness. “She’s Dani’s mother. I had to try to respect her wishes. She left me a letter asking me not to look for Dani’s father until Dani was eighteen, and then only if Dani wanted to know more about him.”
Jack heard the anguish and regret in Angela’s voice. This wasn’t any easier for her than for him. Only hours before, they’d touched each other with the abandon of soul mates, pleased each other like lovers possessed. He’d come so close to admitting how much he loved her, to asking her to refuse Davenport’s offer for no other reason than to become his wife. How could so much change in so little time?
“But you changed your mind.”
“Dani’s health had to come first. As soon as she recovered, I found Richard.”
Jack nodded, unable to say anything. The tale was complex. More than just lies or truths. Still, his blood simmered. Angela had withheld this from him willfully.
He should have been angry enough to murder her. Instead, he fought the impulse to kiss her until the torment vanished from her eyes.
“I met with Richard and his wife to gauge their interest in children before I spilled the beans. But his wife beat me to it. Seems they’d been trying to adopt a baby since they’d been married. Richard was sterile. He always had been.”
“That’s when you suspected me?”
Angela stared at him with disbelief. “Why would I do that, Jack? You were my boyfriend, remember? As far as I knew, you and Chryssie didn’t even get along.”
He held up his hand in brief surrender. “I’m sorry.”
She sat up straight and avoided the subject of her personal pain. “I suspected you only after I’d exhausted every possibility. I reread Chryssie’s diary and the old notes we used to pass during chemistry. I tracked down a friend of hers who lived down the street. No one knew of anyone but Richard. Chryssie talked a good game, but she didn’t sleep around like people thought.
“Then I found my old diary. Around prom time, I’d made a lot of entries about how I felt when you left me at the dance, how Richard had driven me home.”
Jack sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t like hearing her version of one of the worst nights of his life. Especially not when he’d come so far in making up for his mistake.
“Chryssie never told you what happened?” he asked, wanting to get through the story with maximum speed.
“Chryssie was my friend. She wouldn’t deliberately hurt me, and if she did, she’d do her damnedest to cover it up. She told me you’d given her a ride home and that she’d bitched at you for dumping me. Now I know that isn’t exactly how the conversation must have gone.”
He watched as Angela chewed her bottom lip and rubbed her palms together. He’d dredged up myriad bad memories, for her and for him. He wanted to take her hands in his and calm them with a gentle squeeze. But he wasn’t sure he could be gentle.
Instead, he stepped closer. “So if you never knew from Chryssie, why’d you suspect me?”
She scooted on the bench, increasing the distance between them. “About six months ago, after I put two and two together, I counted back nine months from Dani’s birthday to prom night. Then, for the first time, I looked at Dani’s eyes, at the texture of her hair, the shape of her jawline. I mean really looked. The resemblance is undeniable.�
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“Is that why you came to the reunion? To find her father?”
She clipped her sunglasses onto the neckline of her blouse and shook her head. “Dani didn’t have anything to do with my wanting to be with you. She was the reason I wanted to not be with you—the reason I wanted to get you out of my system once and for all.” She looked into her lap, then around her, as if searching for some elusive guidance. “After ten years, I couldn’t get you out of my heart. And I needed to so badly.”
Her straightforwardness disarmed him. He sat beside her, not too close, leaned forward on his elbows and laid his head in his hands. He had a daughter. A lovely one. A bright ray of sunshine with a love for sports and an appreciation for beauty.
And she had a mother who didn’t want to love him.
He looked up, knowing his eyes betrayed his hurt. “So you decided to lie, thinking a brief, meaningless affair would justify keeping me in the dark? She’s my daughter, dammit.”
“I didn’t think you’d want her to be. I love her. I’d protect her with my life. I couldn’t let you know her if I thought you’d abandon her like your father abandoned you. Or if I thought your visits would take place in the company of skinny, vapid fashion-model wannabes and their sleazoid agents.”
“So you did read the rags,” Jack spat.
“Behind every rumor is an inkling of truth. You can’t deny that.”
He shook his head. “No, but you wouldn’t believe which parts were true and which were false.”
He moved on the bench, closing in on her, needing her nearness. His ire cooled when the hem of her skirt brushed against his hand. Her reasons, no matter how distressing to him, were grounded in a stalwart obligation to protect her child—possibly his child.
But her doubts still stabbed him like a stake through his heart.
“I’d believe anything you told me. I’d believe now,” she whispered. Her glossy gaze captured him, shackling his heart like iron. When she touched his hand, his mind shot to the night before—to the intimacy they’d shared. He’d spent the entire week teaching her to trust him. Had he failed entirely?
Seducing Sullivan Page 17