He smoothed her hair and he stroked her slim back and he held on, tight. She slid her leg between his, rubbing her body up close, as if she would melt right into him. When she got where she wanted to be, she went still.
They lay like that for a time, arms and legs entwined.
She was the one who moved first. She reached down between them and cupped her hand over his fly.
Molten heat went pouring through him. He pulled back enough to give her a warning look. “Better not.”
Those big dark eyes gleamed at him. “Trust me.” She stuck out that pink tongue of hers and moistened those soft, tempting lips. “Nothing’s going to happen that will make babies. I swear it.”
What else could he do?
He whispered, “Okay.”
Chapter 15
The too-brief days that followed were magical, the nights pure enchantment. They were the kind of nights Joleen had never dared to imagine she might someday know.
They kept their word to each other, that first morning, played with each other, did the most shocking and incredible things to each other—but held back from making love fully.
In the afternoon Dekker went out and got what they needed.
And that night they were careful and quiet, with Sam so close, right in the next room. They engaged the privacy lock on his door and they held their hands over each other’s mouths when one or the other got too carried away.
Carried away…
Oh, yes. That was the word for it.
Dekker plain and simply carried her away.
He kissed her and caressed her until her body felt as if all the nerves had been swollen, turned inside out, so that even the feel of the air on her skin was almost too pleasurable to bear. And when he came into her…oh, was there ever any feeling quite like that?
To hold him inside her, pushing in her so deep, reaching for the very center of her, surging toward her heart.
How could it be? Dekker, of all people. Here she’d grown up right next door to him and never known the things that he would someday do to her body, the wonder he would bring to her, the sweet, shattering spell he would weave on her senses.
Could they go on like this forever? Oh, probably not. But that was okay. Just to have this, for now, was more pure magic than Joleen ever would have asked of life.
Sammy put up no fuss at all when they left for the resort on Friday morning. He let Joleen kiss him goodbye and then he squirmed to get down.
“Pway, Mama. Manny…” He had Mandy’s name by then, but without the d.
“He will be right here, señora,” the nanny promised. “I will take very, very good care.”
Dekker took her hand. “Come on, Jo. The car is waiting….”
La Puerta al Cielo. Doorway to heaven.
And it was. The resort consisted of a spacious open-air lobby overlooking seven sugar-cube white buildings, two suites in each. On the grounds and near the buildings prickly flowering cactus, ironwood and palo verde trees grew. Gleaming little brooks, accented with miniature waterfalls, wound in and out among the desert blooms.
Doorway to heaven. Oh, definitely.
Their suite was twice the size of Joleen’s house. The talavera-tiled bathroom contained a tub every bit as roomy as the one they’d left behind at Angel’s Crest, a tub made for lovers. And the bathroom and the bedroom kind of blended together, so a person could step right through from bath to bed. Joleen and Dekker found this feature wonderfully convenient.
Even the floors of the place took a person’s breath away. They were made of fossilized limestone from Yucatan, one of the attendants explained, inset with pebbles in intricate designs. Tapates de piedras, the attendant called them: “stone carpets,” mosaic designs of fish and birds that made Joleen think of exotic and faraway places—Ancient Greece or maybe Rome.
They had an ocean-view patio, furnished with big white-cushioned rattan chairs, with a telescope in case they felt the urge to gaze more closely at the stars. There was a half-moon-shaped hot tube built into the patio wall, and a set of stairs that spiraled upward to the roof.
And there was a bed on that roof. The first night of their visit, very late, they climbed those stairs and used that bed. It was more than the doorway to heaven that night. Lying there on the rooftop patio, with Dekker—joined with Dekker—that was heaven itself. The velvet night so warm and sweet around them, and the stars so close she felt she could reach out and grab a handful, cool silver light to carry with her when they went back downstairs.
He pressed so deep into her, and then withdrew, and then, slowly, filled her again. She sighed and moved with him, accepting him, losing him, calling him back to her once more. She thought of the ocean, sliding up on the shore, ebbing away, only to return again, over and over, the rhythm endless. And endlessly sweet…
The next day, near twilight, they walked on the beach, which was gold as the pelt of a lion, the sand so fine, silky as bath powder. They watched the evening light soften, watched the sky turn pink and then the sea. Slowly, magically, it all deepened to indigo as the night came on.
Then they went back to their suite and they made love some more.
The days seemed to flow, one into the other. Two days. Three. Four. Five…
Except for missing Sam, she could go on like this forever.
But time did not stand still for them. Friday came. They flew back to Los Angeles. Sam ran to her when she went to him in the nursery. He clung to her.
For about five minutes.
Then he was squirming to get down, calling for “Manny.”
They stayed the weekend with Emma and Jonas, spending lots of time with the children, in the nursery and out by the pool. Then, when the nights came, heaven was waiting all over again.
Monday they boarded one of Jonas’s jets and took off for home. Joleen felt a little sad to leave the magic of their honeymoon behind.
But there was so much to do, their whole lives to live. They would start looking for a house immediately, and Joleen would have to find the right day care, and of course things would be hectic at the salon. She’d have a lot of catching up to do, after two weeks away.
And Dekker had started talking about expanding his detective business. He wanted to find a bigger, nicer office in a better building than he was in now. He’d hire some office help, start looking for a couple more good investigators.
“What I’m talking about,” he said, “is starting over from the ground up.” He’d been running things by the seat of his pants up till now. For their honeymoon he’d just locked everything up and made sure the answering machine was on. If he expanded, he’d have people to cover for him whenever he took time off.
It would be a whole new ball game, he said. And he seemed to be looking forward to it, to using some of the money he’d inherited and making A-1 Investigations into the biggest and best agency in the city.
There would also be the Atwoods to deal with. But that didn’t worry her so much anymore. Once she found the right day care, she would be ready. Ready in every sense of the word to deflect whatever accusations Robert Atwood tried to throw at her. Especially now that she and Dekker shared a bed. Let Bobby’s awful father send his detectives around to spy on them. Those detectives would see a couple who were married in every sense of the word.
The Bravo jet touched down at Will Rogers World Airport at a little after one in the afternoon. They got all the way to Joleen’s house in the Lexus without spotting a single reporter on their tail.
It had been so relaxing at Angel’s Crest and in Baja. No reporters ever got past the gates at the Bravo mansion. And the exclusive resort was the same. At La Puerta al Cielo, any nosy person wanting to sneak a peak at the spectacular grounds—or at the lucky few who enjoyed such luxury—was simply turned away by the security guard at the front gate.
Now that they were back home, they’d probably have to deal with the media again, at least to some extent. But not yet. Joleen decided to enjoy the privacy while it lasted.
&nbs
p; Joleen’s little house seemed somehow to have grown even smaller after the lavish accommodations they’d enjoyed for the past couple of weeks—smaller and a little bit worn. That threadbare spot on the arm of her easy chair hadn’t seemed quite so obvious to her before. And she’d never really noticed how many scars and scuffs marred the surface of her big round oak coffee table.
Still, this little house was home—and would be until they found a new one. She felt a rush of affection for the place. She also felt chilly. The weather had turned. The sky outside was a sheet of gray, the temperature in the forties, a misty rain falling. Dekker checked the furnace and fired it up.
Sammy had eaten on the plane and was more than ready for his nap. Joleen put him down. He was out almost the minute his little head hit the pillow. She turned from his bed to find Dekker waiting in the doorway to the dining room. She pulled the door closed as she crossed the threshold and went to him, sliding her arms around his hard waist.
She tipped her mouth up. He took it. They shared a long, slow, lovely kiss.
He was the one who broke it. “You’re shivering.”
“Umm. Heater’s on, though. In a few minutes, I’ll be just fine.” She stretched up, planted another kiss on those wonderful lips of his, a quick one, that time. “Hungry?”
“Always.” The corners of his mouth curved up in a lazy smile. He cupped her bottom and pulled her in tightly against him, so that she could feel just how hungry he was.
She tried to look reproachful, though her every nerve had set to humming with naughty anticipation. “You know I meant for lunch.”
He bent his head and nibbled at her neck. “I didn’t.”
She tried not to moan. “I thought…didn’t you say you had to get over to the agency?”
“Soon…” He breathed the word against her skin.
She felt his tongue, sliding along the skin of her throat, followed by the light scrape of his teeth. She did moan then.
He pretended she had actually said a real word. “What was that?”
“I think…”
“Yeah?”
She reached around behind her and grabbed one of the hands that held her bottom. “You had better come with me.” She pulled him toward the kitchen—and the door in there that led to her bedroom.
They were passing the phone on the kitchen wall when it jarred to life. They both jumped, froze, looked at the phone and then at each other. The phone rang again.
Joleen did not want to answer. Neither did Dekker. She could see that in his midnight eyes.
But their honeymoon was over. They were back in real life now. They had to start dealing with all the usual responsibilities again. And besides, she thought rather smugly, once they closed their bedroom door of an evening, they could head straight for heaven. And they could go there every night, with little chance of interruption.
Dekker was watching her face, reading it, she knew. He saw that she would answer the call. So he did it for her, snaring the phone off the wall in the middle of the third ring and holding it out to her.
She pressed it to her ear and heard her mother’s voice. “Joly? Baby? Is that you?”
“Hi, Mama.”
“How long have you been home?”
“Not long. Twenty minutes or so.”
“I left a message for you to call me as soon as you got in.”
“Sorry. I haven’t checked my messages yet.”
“Well, never mind. I have reached you. Did you have a good time?”
“I did. A wonderful time.”
“And Dekker?”
Joleen hooked a finger in the belt loop of her husband’s faded jeans. She gave a tug to get him up nice and close, then planted a quick kiss right on the dent in his chin. “Dekker had a fine time, too—everything okay? At the shop? At home?”
“Everything is fine. No problems. Is Dekker there with you now?”
“He sure is.”
“And our Sammy?”
“We just put him down for his nap.”
“Good—I want you to stay right there, both you and Dekker. Do not go anywhere.”
Now, what was going on? “But Mama, what—”
“Don’t start askin’ questions. It will all be explained.”
“You know, Mama, I hate it when you get mysterious on me.”
“One hour, okay? Don’t either of you go anywhere for sixty full minutes. Give me your solemn vow on that.”
“Mama—”
“Joleen, I want to hear your promise.”
“All right, all right. I promise. An hour.”
“Dekker, too.”
“But—”
“Ask him.”
Joleen blew out an exasperated breath and put her hand over the receiver, “Mama wants to talk to us. I don’t know what about. She says she’ll be here within an hour and she wants us both to promise to wait here till she comes.”
He shrugged. “Tell her we’ll be here.”
Joleen spoke into the receiver again. “All right. We’ll be here.”
“Good.” The line went dead.
Joleen held the phone away from her ear and glared at it. “I hate when she does stuff like this.”
Dekker chuckled. He took the phone and hooked it back on the wall. Then he pulled Joleen close. She rested her head against his heart and grumbled, “Kind of spoiled the mood, didn’t she? How can I drag you back to my room and have my way with you when Mama could be knockin’ on the door any second now?”
He lifted her chin with a finger. “Buck up.”
She pulled a sour face. “Isn’t it nice to be home?”
“Maybe I’ll take a sandwich, after all….”
So they had lunch while they waited.
Joleen got some bread from the freezer and opened a can of tuna. Dekker had a Rolling Rock and she had a Fresca over ice.
When they’d eaten the sandwiches, Joleen rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Then she sat back down with Dekker at the table. He nursed his beer, and she ended up getting herself a second Fresca before they heard the doorbell ring.
Camilla hardly gave the bell a chance to finish chiming before she was poking her head in the door and calling out, “Hel-lo!”
Joleen and Dekker got up and started for the living room. Three steps later, as they cleared the doorway to the dining room, they saw that Camilla wasn’t alone.
Antonia Atwood stood at her side—and a much different Antonia than the mouse in mauve who had attended DeDe’s wedding three weeks before.
The faded brown hair had been artfully permed and colored and beautifully cut in a soft chin-length style. And the face…
Why, it was a pretty face now, cleverly enhanced by a deft hand. The effect was not of a woman made up, but a woman at her best, her eyes wide and bright, her cheeks flushed with healthy color, her mouth soft and inviting and subtly red.
And Antonia’s taste in clothes had changed, too. What she wore now suited her perfectly. Simple lines, the best fabrics: a silk shirt the color of a ripe peach, linen slacks in honey tan.
Joleen knew instantly who had wrought this amazing transformation. She confronted the culprit. “Mama. Tell me you are not the one. Tell me you have not had this woman over at the salon.”
“Well now, baby, I can’t tell you that. Because the truth is, I have. We have become real close in the last two weeks, Tony and I, and—”
“Tony?” Joleen could hardly believe her ears. “You call her Tony now?”
“That’s right. I do. And I want you to settle down, you hear me? Don’t go jumpin’ to any conclusions until you understand all that has happened while you were away.”
It was a reasonable request, and Joleen knew it. She commanded, in a controlled tone, “Talk, Mama. And make it good.”
But Antonia was the one who spoke next. “Please,” she said, her wispy voice changed somehow, sounding so much stronger, so much more sure than before. “Let’s start with the most important point, with the reason that I am here, now
, in your house.”
That sounded like an excellent idea. “Well, fine. You tell me. Why are you here?”
“Because I want you to know that I have done what needed doing. I have stood up to my husband for the first time in our thirty-plus years together. There will be no lawsuit. No one is going to try to take Samuel away from you.”
Chapter 16
Joleen’s legs had gone suddenly wobbly. “I don’t…I can’t believe that you—” What was she trying to say? Whatever it was, it had flown clean out of her head.
Her mother said, “Honey, you look like you could use a chair. You come on in here and sit down.”
Dekker had her by the elbow. He guided her into the living room and eased her into the chair with the threadbare spot on the arm.
Once he had her settled, he frowned down at her. “What can I get you? What do you need?”
“Nothing.” She reached out, touched his arm in reassurance. “I’m okay.” He still looked way too concerned. She spoke with more force. “Seriously. I am fine.” As she said the words, she found they were true. The shock of what she’d just heard was passing.
Dekker moved to the side, but stayed with her, next to her chair.
She sat up straighter. Her mother and Antonia Atwood stood, side by side, across the oak coffee table. It was a united front if Joleen had ever seen one.
And Camilla had the strangest expression on her face. She looked at Dekker and she glanced at Joleen and then quickly looked back at Dekker again. “Hmm,” she said softly. “Oh, yes. Oh, my, yes.”
Whatever her mother was mumbling about, it could wait. Joleen wanted a few answers. And she wanted them now.
“All right,” she said. “I am listening. I hope that one of you plans to explain what has been happening around here.”
Camilla stopped glancing back and forth between Joleen and Dekker. She cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose you could say it all started two days after you left for California.”
Antonia nodded. “That was when I went to speak with your mother at the salon.”
The Marriage Conspiracy Page 17