by Ginna Gray
If she hadn't already been head over heels in love with him, she would have tumbled then.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring his image, and her chin began to quiver. Her throat was so tight she couldn't swallow.
"Hey. You're not going to cry again, are you?"
"Oh, Dirk," she finally managed to choke out. With a cry, she threw herself at him. Modesty forgotten, she sprawled naked on top of him, curled her arms around his neck and smothered him with kisses, strewing them over his face and neck, his chest, sobbing incoherently all the while.
Never in a million years would Alissa have imagined herself behaving in such a forward manner, especially with Dirk. His forceful personality alone did not encourage spontaneous displays, and even though he was her husband now, she was not yet comfortable with the new intimacy between them. But happiness had wiped away her shyness and emboldened her with a joyful gratitude that could not be held in check.
"Hey! Hey, sweetheart, take it easy," he protested, laughing as she continued to rain hectic kisses over him. "You're going to smother me if you keep this up. Hell, it was just a farm."
"I love you. I love you. I love you," she declared fervently between kisses.
Instantly, Dirk clamped his arms around her and rolled her to her back. He loomed over her, all the laughter gone from his eyes, in its place a searing look that made Alissa's heart boom.
She became suddenly aware of their position and that they were both naked. He lay half over her, his leg hooked intimately over hers. All along her body, his heat burned into her flesh, melding them together from ankle to shoulder. Her soft breasts were flattened beneath the hard wall of his chest, and she could feel the tickle of hair against her sensitive nipples, the heavy beat of his heart in counterpoint to her own.
"Do you?" he demanded. "Do you, Alissa?"
His face was set, almost harsh. His eyed glittered down at her. She looked into those icy crystal depths and saw something that made her catch her breath. Something fierce. She couldn't be sure, but it looked very much like need.
Her heart squeezed. Dirk might not be certain if he loved her, and maybe he didn't—not yet, at any rate—but he definitely wanted her. For now, she would settle for that.
Smiling gently, she framed his face between her hands. "Do I love you? Oh, yes. Yes, I do. I love you very much. More than I could possibly tell you in a lifetime," she murmured. And someday, someway, Dirk Matheson, I'm going to make you love me back.
He studied her, his gaze searching. Then, watching her, he ran his hand down her body in a slow sweep, stopping briefly to cup her breast, then down over her midriff, her belly, then lower still. Alissa's breath caught. She made a low sound as his fingers found the moist heart of her womanhood and her eyes glazed with passion.
A slow smile tugged at Dirk's mouth as he lowered his head. "Why don't you show me?" he murmured against her lips.
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
Dirk was the first passenger to disembark when the airplane landed in Houston.
"Hey! Wait up, will you!" Jack called, hurrying after him, struggling with his carry-on bag. Dirk's pace did not slacken. His long stride ate up ground. He was halfway down the concourse before his friend caught up to him, out of breath.
"Hell, man, what's your hurry? You going to a fire or something?"
"No. I'm going home."
"At barely three in the afternoon? I don't believe it! You're not going in to the office first? You? The company's number-one workaholic?"
"There's nothing hanging fire that won't keep until tomorrow."
"Can't wait to get home, huh?" Jack rolled his eyes. "Jeez, I've never seen a man take to marriage the way you have. Hitched barely three months and already you're turning into a hearth-and-home type. It's downright disgusting."
"I've been gone two weeks," Dirk replied noncommittally.
"So? It never bothered you to be gone from home that long before."
Because until Alissa moved in, his place had never been a home, he thought, but he merely gave Jack a wry look and stepped on the escalator that went down to the baggage claim area.
When they had retrieved their bags, they shared a taxi for the ride home. During the short drive Jack kept up a running conversation, but Dirk's mind was elsewhere. He barely heard him and only contributed an occasional grunt or one-word reply when pressed. Finally Jack made a pithy comment about newlyweds and fell silent.
"Give Alissa my love," he said with a wicked grin when Dirk climbed from the cab in front of his building.
He gave his friend a dry look. "Yeah, right. I'll be sure to do that." Lifting his hand in farewell, he picked up his bag, waving aside the doorman's offer of help.
The instant Dirk put his key into the lock, he sighed with relief and anticipation. The trip had seemed endless. He was heartily sick of hotels and hotel food and sleeping in a strange bed. An empty strange bed.
A crooked smile tilted his mouth. Jack was right; he had taken to marriage the way a duck takes to water.
That continued to surprise a lot of people. He supposed, because he'd waited so long to marry, they had expected him to feel stifled, that he would resent his loss of solitude and independence, but they were wrong.
He was no fool. He knew he was damned lucky to have Alissa in his life. She was, by nature, a giving person, a born nurturer. To cosset and care for a loved one came as naturally to her as breathing. And by some miracle, she loved him.
He relished coming home to her each evening, waking up beside her every morning, seeing that pretty face across the table. Hell, he plain loved everything about being married—the closeness, the companionship, that special feeling of being part of a couple. He knew only too well—better than most—that the world could be a harsh, cold place. It was nice to know that no matter how hellish life became, there was someone who cared about you and would always be there.
His mouth quirked again. And of course, the sex was fantastic.
Just stepping inside the foyer, Dirk felt the tension drain out of him. He was instantly aware of a sense of peace. Alissa had brought that to his home. It was something that had always been missing from his life until now.
He wasn't even sure exactly what she had done to bring about this feeling. Sure, she had replaced the sterile decor and furnishings with things of her own taste, but it was more than that. Her mere presence gave this place a tangible feeling of comfort and serenity.
It was little things mostly, he supposed—the aroma of home-cooked meals that greeted him each evening when he stepped in the door, flowers and plants all around, the scent of her perfume in the air, small feminine touches and accoutrements.
Whatever magic Alissa worked, everything was better now that she graced his life.
In the past he'd never cared how much he traveled or how long he was gone. One place had been pretty much as good as another. Now he dreaded going, hated having to leave her. She had gotten under his skin, wound soft, unseen tentacles around him that would always draw him back to her. The funny thing was, he didn't mind one bit.
Whenever he was gone, even just to the office, he found himself thinking about her at odd times during the day, wanting to talk to her about some small thing, or just to hear the sound of her voice, or wanting to make love to her.
The trouble was, it took very little to set his thoughts off in that direction. If a business colleague happened to mention his wife, or whenever he walked into her old office, or if he simply caught a whiff of perfume, he thought of Alissa—the taste of her, the smell of her, how delicately she was made, how warm and silky her skin felt when she lay naked in his arms, the look in her eyes when he made love to her.
He had discovered that his wife was an astonishingly sensual creature. He was still amazed by the contrast between the quiet, ladylike image she projected and the delightfully passionate woman who writhed in his arms in the darkness, clutching at him and moaning.
During the past two weeks th
e need to return to Alissa had become so urgent he had worked like a dog and driven everyone around him to the breaking point. As a result, they had finished up a day earlier than he'd told Alissa to expect him.
He stopped in the foyer and cocked his head. Only silence greeted him. "Alissa?"
He set his suitcase down and walked into the living room. Shafts of afternoon sunshine beamed through the wall of windows, giving the room a warm glow. As Dirk stood waiting, listening for her, he looked around and became sharply aware of the changes she had brought to their home.
The room was beautiful and comfortable, yet there were numerous signs of human occupation—a shallow basket full of magazines, Alissa's knitting on the arm of the new floral sofa, the lid on the piano keyboard raised and sheet music opened on the stand. The apartment had completely lost that showroom quality the decorator had given it. Now it was warm and cozy, inviting you to kick off your shoes and relax.
New curtains framed the wall of glass that looked out on the terrace, lush plants were scattered around the room and her needlepoint pillows, each an exquisite work of art, dotted the sofa and numerous comfortable chairs.
Dirk grinned and shook his head, marveling at what a difference one small, soft woman could make.
Suddenly, feeling an urgent need to hold his wife in his arms, he strode to the door. He grinned, wondering how she would react when he swooped her up and carried her off to bed in the middle of the afternoon.
He sniffed the air, but no tantalizing aroma greeted him. When he entered the kitchen all he found was an empty, spotless room. Impatient now, he went through the apartment, room by room, his frown growing darker as he realized that she wasn't there.
Where the devil was she? He hadn't busted his buns to come home early to a damned empty house.
Dirk knew he was being unreasonable. Alissa had no idea that he might return ahead of schedule. After all, he couldn't expect her to sit around the apartment waiting like a loyal pet.
But, dammit, he wanted her to be there!
He stopped suddenly as a chill rippled through him. What if something had happened to her? What if she'd had an accident? Or she was in the hospital desperately ill?
Grinding his teeth, he raked a hand through his hair.
Calm down, he admonished himself. There's probably a simple explanation why she wasn't home. She was probably out shopping. Or maybe she'd gone to the movies.
He forced himself to unpack and change his clothes, then he went through the mail she had left in a neat stack on his desk in the study. There was nothing important, so he settled down in the living room with the evening paper. It was so quiet he couldn't concentrate. When he realized he'd read the same page three times without absorbing a word, he finally gave up and turned on the television, but his mind kept wandering from that, too, so after only a few minutes he turned it off.
After an hour of fidgeting and straining to hear her key in the front door and checking his watch every few minutes, he spit out a curse and marched to the telephone. If anyone would know where she was it would be Margo or one of her other office pals. Alissa still had lunch with them at least once a week.
"Personnel. Ms. Dutton speaking."
"Margo, it's Dirk. Do you have any idea where Alissa is? I got home about an hour ago, but she's not here."
"Dirk! What're you doing home already? She wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
Marriage had brought about changes not only in his life-style, but in his relationships. Alissa remained close to her friends from the office, and, though he was an executive vice president and therefore technically their boss, he was now on a first-name basis with them, as well—even Annie, who in the past had always looked as though she were about to swallow her tongue whenever he was around.
"Yeah, well, we finished sooner than expected."
"Alissa is in Brenham. The contractor called to say he had finished his last job and was free now to start the renovation on your house. Alissa went up to the farm yesterday to meet with him and get things started, but she planned to be back tomorrow before you returned."
Of course. He should have thought of that. She had given top priority to fixing up the apartment, but she was anxious to get to work on the farmhouse. The contractor in Brenham whom she wanted to use had been busy when she contacted him in January, but he'd promised he would start on the job sometime this month.
"Thanks, Margo."
"No problem. She'll be sorry she wasn't there when you got in. Why don't you call her at Callie's? I'm sure she'll burn up the highway getting home."
"Yeah. I might do that."
After hanging up the telephone he considered Margo's suggestion for only a second. Then he snatched up the receiver again and called Henry Battle to tell him he was taking the next day off and wouldn't be in the office until Monday. Within ten minutes he had thrown a few things in a bag and was on his way to Brenham.
Standing on a ladder in the middle of the dining room, Alissa held on to the top step with one hand and cautiously stretched up on tiptoe. She had just managed to lift one of the frosted globes from the light fixture when T.J. Krueger walked into the room, dusting dirt and cobwebs off his jeans and chambray work shirt.
"Well, I finished checking out the attic," he announced, and Alissa jumped as if she'd been shot.
"Oh! Oh!" Still holding the globe, she clutched the wobbling ladder and struggled for balance.
"Hey, watch it!" T.J. leaped forward and grabbed the legs of the ladder on either side of her hips. "It's okay. It's okay. I've got you."
"Oh, my." Alissa closed her eyes and pressed her hand, globe and all, against her heart. "That was close. I didn't hear you come in."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. What're you doing up there, anyway?"
"One of the globes on the chandelier is broken. I'm going to try and find a replacement. I was getting one of them down to take with me when I make the rounds of the antique shops."
"That thing was installed when the house was built over a hundred years ago. Wouldn't it be easier to just buy all new globes?"
"Then the chandelier wouldn't be an authentic antique."
T.J. shook his head. "Oh, pardon me all to hell and gone. I'd forgotten what a persnickety little thing you are."
"T.J. Krueger, I am not persnickety. I'm simply … thorough." She sniffed, and gave his shoulder a playful swat. The move set the ladder to swaying again, and she yelped and flailed her arms.
"Here, let me help you down before you do fall." He clasped his big, work-worn hands around her waist and effortlessly swung her down from the ladder.
He grinned, his eyes soft with teasing laughter. "You never were any good with ladders, were you? I seem to recall when you were about eight you were spying on me and Tyler in the barn and fell off the hayloft ladder. That time you landed on top of me and broke my collarbone."
"Well, it served you right for sneaking into the barn to smoke cigarettes," she answered primly, biting back a grin.
"Yeah, well, next time, before you go climbing a ladder, call me and I'll get down whatever it is you want."
"That won't be necessary. If my wife needs assistance, I'll give it to her."
Standing in the arched entrance to the dining room, Dirk saw Alissa's slender back stiffen. The next instant she whirled, and her face lit up like a sign on Broadway.
"Dirk!" she cried, and launched herself at him.
Caught off guard by her unrestrained joy, for a moment he forgot his anger. He opened his arms, and when she threw herself against his chest they tightened around her like a vise.
Driven by a primitive need he didn't fully understand, to brand Alissa as his own before this man who had handled her so familiarly, he kissed her with a voracious passion. He rocked his mouth over hers, devouring soft lips. The kiss was a little savage and more than possessive, but Alissa clung to him, responding to his fierceness with all the sweet generosity of her nature.
When the kiss ended she was breathles
s and weak as a kitten. Dirk held her close, and over the top of her head his gaze met the other man's.
For several seconds the two merely stared at each other in silence, a sizzling look of masculine communication passing between them.
"Oh, good heavens, T.J.!" Recovering her senses, Alissa pulled from her husband's embrace. Scalding heat climbed her neck and face all the way to her hairline, and she could not quite meet T.J.'s eyes. "I apologize for that. Oh, dear, what must you be thinking."
His gaze never left Dirk's. "Don't worry about it. I understand how it is with newly weds. I'm assuming this is your husband."
"Yes. Yes, it is." The remark caused Alissa's blush to deepen, but she forged ahead, too flustered to notice that the two men were eyeing each other like a couple of junkyard dogs with their hackles up.
"Darling, this is T.J. Krueger. He's the best contractor in Washington County and he's had lots of experience working on old houses. In fact, that's his specialty. T.J., this is my husband, Dirk Matheson."
The two men exchanged a guarded handshake.
"T.J. says the house is structurally sound," Alissa enthused, oblivious to the silent male challenge in the air.
"Yeah, these old places were built to last by real craftsmen," T.J. supplied. "You don't get quality like this in the houses being built today. Or all the ornate extras and attention to detail. That's why I like working on them."
"T.J. says that except for rewiring and additional plumbing, most of the work will be cosmetic," Alissa continued. "And the best part is, he and his crew can start on Monday, provided we can get our things moved out by then. Isn't that wonderful?"
Most of the furnishings from Alissa's old house were in storage. However, while waiting for the renovation to begin, they had been spending most weekends at the farm and had temporarily brought in a few pieces to use in the master bedroom, kitchen and living room.
"Yes. That will be fine," Dirk replied with less enthusiasm than she had expected. "And how long will the job take?" he demanded of T.J.