Drive Me Wild

by Julie Ortolon

Chapter 20

  Slowly the world drifted back into focus. Laura could feel the weight and warmth of Brent’s body pressing her into the mattress. He’d released her legs, and they lay weakly alongside his. She lowered her arms to cradle his head, which rested on her shoulder.

  “I guess it’s true what the French say.” She sighed as a smile tugged at her lips. “It really is like a little death.”

  She expected him to laugh. Instead, his body went very still. With a moan, he lifted his head. What she saw in his eyes startled her. He looked almost frantic. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she laughed, but sobered quickly at his expression. “I’m fine Brent. In fact,” she grinned, “I’m more than fine.”

  He rolled onto his back to lie beside her with his hands over his face. A surge of concern dispelled the last of her euphoria. “Brent? Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure.” He lowered his hands and looked at her. “Laura, I … I didn’t mean for this to happen again. I’m sorry.”

  Her body, so hot and happy a moment before, went cold as the events of the evening played back through her head. She’d thrown herself at him, intentionally seduced him. He’d given in, and now he felt guilty. He felt guilty because she was his friend, and he’d used her for sex. But the guilt and embarrassment rightfully belonged to her.

  “I see,” she said, marveling at how calm she sounded. Sitting up, she swung her feet to the floor. She wanted to stand and reach for her clothes but feared she’d topple off her ridiculous high heels if she did. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Laura, no. I didn’t mean it like that!” She felt the bed sag as he came to her. He turned her toward him, cradling her face in the crook of his neck. “I didn’t mean I didn’t want this to happen. Or that I didn’t want you. Believe me, I want you very much, even now. Jeez, even after what we just did, I still want you.”

  “Then why are you sorry?”

  He heaved a frustrated sigh. “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “But you didn’t hurt me.” She pulled back to see his face.

  “Maybe not physically.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “But I still took advantage of you.”

  “Brent, that’s ridiculous. I threw myself at you.”

  “Because you believed there was something to gain from it. Something besides good sex. No, make that spectacular sex. But I know you, Laura.” He touched her cheek. “No matter how attracted you are to a man, you would never have done this if you didn’t think it might lead somewhere.”

  A coldness settled about her heart as she realized he was rejecting her—gently but completely. She turned her head away. “I see.”

  “No, you don’t.” He took her chin and turned her back to face him. “And that’s why we need to talk.” She watched him struggle for the right words. “I meant to say this earlier today, when I took you to lunch. Only I just couldn’t seem to get the words out.”

  “Actually, you stated very clearly that you wanted us to be friends and nothing else.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t say why I wanted that.” He sighed. “Laura, I’ve never told you this, but I admire you. I admire your ability to cherish the very things so many people take for granted. The things you want out of life are so basic and honest, they should be very simple. Unfortunately, they are the very things I am completely incapable of giving you.”

  She frowned at him. “And what things are those?”

  “A home, a husband, and children.”

  Something fluttered inside her, and she realized that, in spite of all her avowals to want more than a small-town life, the dream of a home and a family still drew her. That, however, was not what Brent wanted to give her. “There’s more to life than marriage,” she said, as if his rejection didn’t hurt.

  “Laura…” He reprimanded her with a look. “You aren’t listening to me.”

  “Of course I am,” she insisted. “You have no interest in marrying me now or anytime in the future.”

  “I said I’m not capable of marrying you, which is a big difference.” He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “Look, I’m sure you’ll agree it takes more than a house to make a home, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, it also takes more than a marriage certificate and some glibly spoken vows to make a husband. And it damned sure takes a lot more than what we just did to make a father.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Yes, I think you do. After the things you told me today, I think you understand it better than I’d like. But what you lived through does not come close to what happened to me as a child.” He shook his head. “The last thing in the world I want to do is sound like one of those whiny people who blames all his problems on his childhood, but the fact remains that how I was raised damaged me inside. I don’t feel the same emotions other people do. And nothing you or I can do will ever, ever change that.”

  “Are you saying that because you weren’t loved as a child, you’re incapable of feeling love as an adult?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  With a curse, he leaned against the headboard. After a moment of brooding silence, he nailed her with a direct look. “Did you take Mr. Wilburn’s psychology class in high school?”

  “Yes.” She frowned warily.

  “Do you remember learning about the wolf-boy who was found by that British doctor around the turn of the century?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I remember it, too,” he said. “I remember it very clearly. Because until then, I had the same dreams a lot of kids have, about growing up and having kids of my own so I could give them all the things I never had. But that day, sitting in Mr. Wilburn’s class, I started to realize that would never happen. At least not for me.”

  She stared at him, incredulously. “Because you learned about some boy who’d been raised by wolves?”

  “If you remember, that boy was perfectly healthy and of normal intelligence when they found him, and yet he was never able to adapt to life among humans. He couldn’t talk, Laura.” His gaze bored into hers, as if willing her to understand. “Not because there was anything wrong with his vocal cords, but because he hadn’t been exposed to human sounds as an infant.”

  “Which proves what?”

  “It proves that, if a child doesn’t develop certain abilities by age three, they can’t develop them later. It’s physically impossible.”

  “That has nothing to do with the ability to feel emotions,” she insisted staunchly.

  “All right, let’s say, for the sake of argument, I was able to fall in love, get married, and have a couple of kids. What kind of a father do you think I’d make?”

  Warmth tingled through her at the thought. “I think you’d make a wonderful father.”

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Have you ever seen the statistics on child abuse? A huge percentage of abusive parents were the victims of abuse themselves. They don’t know how to communicate with their children any other way, because getting slapped upside the head and screamed at was all they knew growing up.”

  The warmth vanished. “Are you saying you were abused? I mean physically?”

  His body went rigid. “I am not going to get into that. A blow-by-blow description of my childhood would only upset you and put me in a really rotten mood. I’ve worked through all that, accepted it, and gotten on with my life as best I can.”

  “Have you, Brent? Have you really worked through it?”

  “I’ve worked through it enough to know I’d make a horrible husband and a worse father.”

  “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” she offered stubbornly. “I think you would make a terrific husband.”

  “See, I knew it.” He gestured toward her. “I knew you’d say something like that. Which is exactly why I didn’t want to get involved with you like this. I kn
ew, no matter how honest I was up front, you’d go into a relationship with all these starry-eyed notions and false expectations.”

  “Now you’re not giving me enough credit.” Her back straightened. “Just because I said you’d make a good husband, doesn’t mean I want you to be my husband.”

  He gave a skeptical snort, obviously seeing the lie for what it was, a blatant attempt to salvage her pride.

  Angry and hurt, she plunged ahead. “I did not come to Houston with some naïve assumption that you and I would fall hopelessly in love and live happily ever after. And I sure didn’t come here on a husband hunt. If all I wanted was a husband, I’d have stayed in Beason’s Ferry, where a perfectly wonderful, caring man has been after me to marry him for the past six months.”

  “Well, that’s just what every man wants to hear when he’s sitting naked in bed with a woman—how wonderful and caring some other guy is.”

  “The point I’m trying to make is that I’m not trying to trap you into some lifetime commitment here. My whole life is topsy-turvy right now, and all I’m capable of handling is each day as it comes. I don’t expect any more from you than that.” Because I can’t face the thought of choosing between you and my dream of marriage and family. Not yet.

  “Can’t two people just take things a day at a time and be together because they enjoy each other’s company without worrying if it’s going to last forever?” she asked. “I’m having enough trouble handling the here and now to even think about forever.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Brent caressed her arm. “I’m just scared to death I’ll break your heart.”

  “Oh, Brent,” she laid a hand against his cheek, “you can’t do that unless I let you.”

  Time ticked by as he studied her. “Just promise me one thing. Promise you won’t do anything stupid, like start thinking you’re in love with me, okay?”

  Emotions prickled her eyes, but she hid the tears with a smile. “How about if I promise not to blame you for anything stupid I might do?”

  He studied her a long time. “Okay,” he said slowly.

  “Okay as in ‘we’ll see each other as more than friends’?”

  He surprised her with a wolfish grin. “Okay as in ‘I won’t kick you out of my bed.’ For now anyway.”

  “Why, you—” She pushed against his chest, then laughed when he caught her wrists and pulled her to him. His mouth covered hers, stealing the sound of her mirth. She melted in his arms, twining her own about his neck.

  “Hmm.” He lifted his head to smile down at her. “No, I definitely won’t kick you out of my bed.”

  “That’s good to hear.” She grinned. “Since you owe me something.”

  “What?” His expression turned leery as he loosened his embrace.

  “Well.” She straightened primly. “You know earlier, when we were…”

  “Yes?” He smiled at her blush.

  “Technically, you did surrender first.”

  “I did not!” he said with obvious offense.

  “You said please before I did,” she pointed out.

  “When?”

  “When … when you were undressing … and I was … lying down with… Well, you did!”

  He thought for a moment, then laughed. “You’re right. I did.”

  “So,” she battled down shyness, “does that mean I get to do whatever I want to your body?”

  He fell back on the bed with his arms flung wide. “I’m all yours.”

  Chapter 21

  Laura’s advice to take things one day at a time worked like magic for Brent. He wondered why he hadn’t adopted the philosophy in his personal life before, since he frequently used it at work in order to get through a crisis. Yet, this was the first time he’d allowed himself to truly relax on a personal level and let time proceed at its own pace without constantly questioning its direction.

  For the most part, Laura maintained her separate residence with her roommate, a fact that mildly irritated him but he decided not to dwell on it. Besides, he had her to himself on the weekends. He’d even adapted to her bringing the Rottweilers over, since part of her rental agreement stipulated she baby-sit the big mutts whenever Melody went out of town.

  True, the dogs had dug up his yard, chewed a corner off his Navajo rug, and scratched up his wood floors. He’d discovered a secret, however, about dealing with dogs. Even big, pampered babies could learn words like “sit,” “down,” and “drop that shoe or die,” if the commands were spoken with authority. Surprisingly, he also discovered he rather like being greeted with enthusiasm and utter devotion when he slipped through the front door on Friday nights. Especially since the presence of the dogs meant he’d find Laura curled up on the sofa, where she fell asleep every Friday while waiting for him to come home.

  He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling that swelled inside him when he stood in the dark and watched her sleep. Then she’d stir and stretch and give him that incredible welcome-home smile as he bent down to kiss her. She always felt so right in his arms as he’d lift her from the sofa and carry her to his bed. The easy, honest way she gave herself up to their shared passion never ceased to thrill him. In the darkness afterward, when she’d snuggle against him and drift back to sleep, he’d lie awake and wonder what he’d ever done right in his life to deserve Laura—for however long she stayed.

  For however long she stayed.

  That annoying thought popped into his head less and less frequently as the summer progressed. By mid-August, as he drove to the office where she worked to take her to lunch, he found he could push the worry out of his mind with hardly any effort. Everything in his life was damned near perfect. As long as he didn’t do anything stupid to screw it up, he didn’t see any reason why things couldn’t continue exactly as they were indefinitely.

  Entering the doctor’s office, he waved to Tina, the receptionist.

  “Hey, Brent.” The receptionist’s expression brightened at the sight of him.

  “Hi, Tina.” He smiled in return. The more he got to know Laura’s coworkers, the less he worried about where she worked. The women had apparently taught her a few city survival basics like carrying Mace and parking under streetlights and never walking to her car alone after dark.

  “Laura will be out in a minute.” Tina leaned forward, giving him a flirtatious grin. “She’s in with the doctor trying to untangle some insurance snafu. From the sound of it, she could be a while. But you’re welcome to talk to me till she’s done.”

  “And run the risk of getting you in trouble with the boss?” Brent pretended to be horrified at the thought. “No, I better just have a seat and mind my manners.”

  Hiding a grin at Tina’s pout, he headed across the waiting room. This close to lunch, the place was deserted, but he could tell from the toys and books scattered across the floor that the morning had been a busy one.

  Picking his way through the clutter, he took a seat in one of the adult-sized chairs. There didn’t appear to be any Sports Illustrated to read and he couldn’t work up much enthusiasm for thumbing through American Baby. On the battered coffee table, he spotted a copy of Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham, and thought, what the heck. He’d never actually read a Dr. Seuss book and figured now was as good a time as any to broaden his literary horizons.

  Settling back in the chair, he started skimming the lines of quirky verse. A few pages into the book, he heard footsteps and glanced up, hoping to see Laura. Instead, he saw a young woman headed for the counter to settle her bill.

  No sooner had he turned back to his reading than the book flew forward to slap against his chest. Startled, he stared at the grinning face of a young boy who’d barreled into him.

  “I kn-know you,” the boy said, leaning against Brent’s legs.

  “Oh, you do, do you?” Brent stifled the urge to laugh at the boy’s complete lack of inhibition.

  “Yeah. You’re thhhe g—” The boy struggled for a moment as if his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth. “G
uy —that makes the nnnews.”

  “Actually, I just report the news. Other people make it.” Brent grinned, but apparently the joke went right over the top of the kid’s head. “Do you like to watch the news?”

  The boy laughed and shook his head with enough force to send it flopping from side to side. “I like caaartoons.”

  “Oh.” Brent had preferred cartoons to the news at that age, too. “Cartoons are cool.”

  The boy giggled, and Brent found the sound oddly infectious. He’d always considered kids something to avoid, but this one wasn’t too bad. He was kind of cute even, in a squirrelly sort of way with his squinty brown eyes and big front teeth. Short black hair stuck straight out from the kid’s head, adding to the goofy look.

  “So, uhm, were you here to see the doctor?” Brent asked.

  The boy nodded with a floppy, jerky motion. “Yyyep,” he said in the nasal voice of someone with a stuffed-up nose.

  “You have a cold or something?”

  “No!” The kid erupted with laughter as if the question were hilarious. “Seb-ber pollly.”

  Sebberpolly? Brent frowned. Then his eyes swept over the boy, taking in the squinted eyes, the wobbly stance, and the constant motion of the head. “You mean cerebral palsy?”

  The boy nodded, still grinning.

  Brent felt as if someone had kicked him in the chest as he stared at the face before him. It was the face of any normal, healthy elementary-school-age kid, and yet it wasn’t. This child would never be completely normal and healthy like his classmates. He’d always be different, held apart through no fault of his own.

  “So yyyou here to see the doc?” the boy asked.

  “No. No, I’m to see Laura Morgan.”

  “Yeah?” The boy’s eyes lit up. “Pretty hot nnnumber.”

  “What?” Brent blinked, not sure he’d heard right.

  “Miss Mmorgan. Pretty hhhot.”

  Brent didn’t know what he expected from a child with cerebral palsy, but humor wasn’t it. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, I guess I’d have to agree with you on that one.”

  “She your gggirlfen?”