She knew Jake was trying to ease her mind. But she was having a hard time acknowledging her past behavior and dealing with the guilt it now caused her. "I'm sure whatever you decided on will be fine."
He turned to look at her, his features stark in the dashboard lights. "I want it to be better than fine, Larissa."
She hugged herself, feeling more vulnerable than ever, even more so than when she'd given birth to Peter alone in the hospital. "I'm not sure I deserve that."
"Why not?" he asked. He'd turned his attention back to the road and she was glad. She didn't want him to look at her.
"I just suddenly feel very selfish."
He didn't say anything, and she waited until they'd driven at least a mile before she spoke again. "I've been so afraid of getting hurt that I didn't think of Peter."
"You said it earlier—he's not neglected."
"Who's to say what constitutes neglect? I'd never realized how my own fears were shaping him. He really took to your mom."
"Yes, he did. She took to him, too. She offered to watch him when we go to Vegas," Jake said.
"I'm sure he'd love that."
"Good. That's settled." He reached across the seat and took her hand, holding it in his for a minute before placing it on his thigh. She felt reassured in ways she shouldn't because she'd promised herself that she wouldn't let herself care for Jake.
It was more important than ever that she make this marriage work. If she didn't, then they'd all end up hurt. And she wasn't going to be responsible for causing the men she loved any more pain.
* * *
It was midnight a week later and Jake was wide-awake. So he got out of his bed and wandered down the hall to the kitchen. He tried to pretend it was family concerns that disturbed him. Wes had been out at Crofthaven all week trying to stop a computer virus that Uncle Abe had downloaded with his e-mail. His father hadn't called once but Jake knew the old man was disappointed. His mom had dropped by twice and Larissa had disappeared each time.
Too much had happened lately. It wasn't every day that he found out he had a son. And that was partly the reason for his restlessness. But he knew the true reason was the sweet blonde sleeping in the room next to his.
Larissa was more of a woman than he remembered. It wasn't as if he'd forgotten her in the almost four years since he'd last seen her. She'd always elicited a blend of bittersweet memories. He'd thought he'd scared her away that long-ago night with his lovemaking. Larissa had always been so innocent—having a one-night stand would have been enough to scare her.
He opened the fridge and stared at the contents. Larissa had brought groceries on her way home. He reached past the soy milk and grabbed the six-pack of Coors that had been pushed to the back of the fridge. He took the six-pack outside. He stretched out on one of the loungers, feeling the moisture that had developed from the night air saturate his T-shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it on the ground next to the beer.
Tipping his head back, he watched the stars. He remembered one time when Larissa had talked him into going to the observatory. They'd spent the night listening to Dark Side of the Moon and watching constellations.
Damn, that was a long time ago. Sometimes he felt years older than he was.
He heard the scrape of footsteps on the ground and turned to see Larissa silhouetted in the doorway. She wore a nightshirt that buttoned down the front. It wasn't meant to be sexy even though it did leave her long legs bare, but he found it so. To distract himself he took a long draw on his beer bottle. As a distraction, it was a piss poor one.
Jimmy Buffett had the right idea when he'd written "Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw." Just mindless sex with Larissa was what he needed tonight. But he knew in the morning it would have consequences.
He ached for her. And having her here in his house made that ache deepen. He'd never had a woman here overnight. With all the traveling he'd done in recent years, there really hadn't been time for a relationship. Hell, that was an excuse. He could have had a woman the night before and he'd still want Larissa with this gut-twisting need.
He knew he wasn't going to sleep or have anything resembling comfort until they'd spent a few hours in bed together. But he'd agreed to a platonic marriage. He intended to try to honor it.
"Can I join you?" she asked. Her hair hung in waves around her shoulder, tousled and disheveled from sleep. He knew she was a natural blonde, but there were so many different shades in her hair that he used to suspect she dyed it. But dying her hair wasn't something that Larissa would do. She was always very genuine.
"Sure. You want a beer?" he asked, gesturing to the six-pack at his feet.
She shook her head and hesitated near his chair. "Are you getting drunk?"
What would she do if he was? "Nah. Just passing time."
"Are you okay?" she asked. She glanced around for somewhere to sit. The other chairs were damp with moisture. She picked his shirt up from the ground and used it to wipe down the seat of one of the lounge chairs. She dragged it closer to his lounger and put her feet on the bottom of his.
Such small, feminine feet. His looked big and rough next to hers. He wanted to explore all the ways they were different. To strip them both naked and take his time with the exploration.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" he asked, to distract himself from her sweetly curved body and the images of her body dancing in his head. One night years ago wasn't enough.
"Well, it's after midnight and you're sitting in the dark drinking. Something about that doesn't seem like the confident man I've come to know." She ran her toe up his calf, teasing him. Her toenails were painted a deep luscious red that confirmed what he already knew. There was more to the prim librarian than she wanted the world to see.
He glanced up and realized she'd been watching him stare at her legs. "I can't sleep."
She ran her toes back down his leg and then tucked her feet under her and tilted her head to the side. "Why not?"
"You don't want to know," he said, draining his bottle of beer. He leaned over to replace it in the carton and get a fresh one. He twisted the cap off and offered it to her.
She reached forward and took the bottle. Her shirt gaped open and he had a glimpse of the inner curve of her breast. His body hardened a little more, and he shifted his legs to find a more comfortable position.
She took a long sip of the beer and then handed the bottle back to him with a smile. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know what was keeping you awake."
"I'm hard with wanting you," he said baldly.
"Oh."
"I had a feeling you'd say that. Go back to bed, Larissa, before I forget my good intentions and seduce you."
She stood up and he felt a twinge of disappointment. "Who seduced whom the last time?"
She walked away before he could respond to her. And he watched the smooth swaying of her hips.
* * *
Larissa double-checked her seat belt and waved goodbye to Peter in Miranda Danforth's arms as they drove away. Ten days had passed since she'd let Jake know he was Peter's dad. Tears burned the back of her eyes and she stared out the window until she had her emotions under control. Jake drove away from his parents' home through Savannah and headed to the airport.
Jake's family home was just as luxurious as Crofthaven, but a little smaller in scale. It was also homier. The walls in the family room had been covered with pictures of Jake and his siblings at various ages. And there was a display that was practically a shrine to the trophies Jake had won playing soccer.
"What happened with Victoria?"
"She disappeared at a concert."
"When?"
"Years ago. We all feel responsible. She was our baby…"
"You can't protect everyone."
"I know. I just—I bought her those tickets, Rissa. Me. The big brother who always spoiled her."
"It's not your fault."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. He'd been like this since they'd gotten up this morning.
Was he having second thoughts? She wouldn't blame him if he did—she had a few doubts herself that this marriage was the right thing to do.
"Have you changed your mind about our wedding?" she asked.
He fiddled with the radio dial, tuning in a rock station. "No."
He turned the volume up and Three Doors Down sang about being Superman. She tried to relax against the leather seat, but she couldn't. She tried to tell herself that this marriage wasn't their kryptonite, but it felt like it.
She tried to tell herself it was the fact that she was leaving the Southeast, something she'd never done before. She tried to tell herself it was the fact that she'd left Peter with her soon-to-be in-laws. She tried to pretend it had absolutely nothing to do with the man sitting next to her.
"I've never been out of Georgia, really. I mean, I've been to Hilton Head, but that's practically Georgia, it's so close."
He didn't turn the volume down or even glance her way. She remembered last night when he'd put her hand on the top of his thigh. "You're rambling."
"Yes, I am. I wonder why?" she asked. She wanted to touch him again. Even though they had an early flight, he'd still taken time to go for a run this morning. His legs were muscled and solid. Her fingers tingled with the remembered feel of his leg under her touch.
"Nervous?" he suggested.
"I wasn't until you started acting like some darned robot this morning."
"Robot?" His tone was disinterested. He'd practically ignored her at his parents' house.
"Listen, Jake, I'm not in the mood to play word games with you. If this is what our married life is going to be like I don't think we should go through with it."
He turned the radio off and removed his sunglasses, glancing over at her. There was something unreadable in his eyes that warned her that he was not in a pleasant mood. "It's too late for that."
"No, it's not."
He didn't say anything else and Larissa knew she should have remembered the lesson she'd learned a long time ago. That she couldn't really depend on anyone but herself. Despite what he said, she knew her shoulders were strong enough to carry the burden of single-parenthood. She wanted to take Peter and her grandfather's Bayliner and take to the sea. They would find a place where the two of them could live together—maybe an island somewhere.
But she knew her son wasn't going to be happy leaving behind his new family. And Larissa could never live without her son.
"I don't want to live my mother's life, Jake," she said quietly.
"You don't have any family to disown you," he said.
Nice of him to point that out. She wrapped her arms around her waist and hugged tightly. "I have Peter."
"We have Peter," he said.
"We don't have anything except a media blitz between us."
He cursed under his breath. One of his less flattering habits was that tendency of his to curse when she made him mad. She made a mental note to lecture him on that at a later time.
He pulled the car to the side of the road and turned to face her. "I'm not sure what you want from me."
"Courtesy would be a nice start."
"I'm not being rude."
"Well, I don't understand these one-word answers."
"I can't be your best buddy, Larissa."
"Why not?"
"Because we're living together and I want that to be real. And you don't."
"It's not that I don't want it to be real."
"Then what is it?"
"What if I start believing this is real and you decide that I'm not the right woman for you to spend your life with."
"I'm not that flaky, Rissa. I know my mind."
"Right now you think you do because of Peter."
"Woman, are you trying to drive me insane?"
"No, I'm not. I just don't want to end up like my mom did."
"Alone?"
"Yeah, alone."
"Where was your dad?"
She took a deep breath and looked into Jake's eyes. There was no way she wanted to get into this conversation with him. But she wasn't prepared to spend the rest of her life or the rest of the weekend with Jake while he gave her the cold shoulder.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "I don't have one."
* * *
Eight
« ^ »
"No dad? I don't understand," Jake said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and tried to assemble everything she'd told him of her past. He knew she'd had a rough childhood and he didn't really want to be responsible for her having to relive it now. But he had to understand her.
He hadn't been able to sleep last night and his future evenings looked just as restless unless she gave up her idea of a platonic marriage. The only idea he'd had that might work was keeping a distance between them, but even that was next to impossible.
"Explain it to me," he said at last. She was seated next to him in a pretty pink dress that made her eyes seem even bluer. With her blond hair free around her shoulders she looked too feminine for him. Too soft and gentle and he was very afraid that his baser instincts would overwhelm him, despite his mother's best efforts to make him into a gentleman.
"There's not much to say. My mom trapped herself a husband, but Reilly wasn't interested in being a dad, so he refused to have any contact with me. When I was four, he ran off with his secretary, leaving us nothing."
"I'm sorry, Larissa. But I don't see how our marriage resembles your mom's. I've already told you I don't feel trapped. We were both there the night Peter was conceived."
She smiled at him—the first time she'd done so today, and though he knew he shouldn't let it, he felt that smile all the way to his soul. It made him feel bigger than he was—like a man who wasn't a disappointment to his dad. A man who hadn't spent most of his adult life dodging responsibility. A man who could be hers for the rest of his life.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Do you feel better now?" he asked.
She shrugged and glanced out the window of the car. Jake leaned back in the seat and thought about all Larissa had told him. He suspected she was leaving out some very important details. He realized suddenly that perhaps her own father's treatment of her had influenced her decision not to tell him about Peter.
"You kept Peter a secret because you thought I'd treat him the way your dad did you," he said.
She turned to look at him, but she didn't say anything. Her silence confirmed his suspicion. This was why he'd never dated a woman for too long. He knew he wasn't good at building relationships.
"I'd never hurt our son," he said at last. He meant it too. Realizing that made him doubt he should continue with his custody suit. Because the one thing that would really hurt Peter was not having Larissa in his life. And though he justified his suit as insurance that Larissa could never cut him out of their lives again, he knew it was more about payback. Suddenly payback didn't seem justifiable. He'd keep it on the back burner if this marriage didn't work out.
Larissa bit her lower lip, tears glittering in her eyes. "I know that. Believe me, Jake, I wouldn't have made love with you that night if I thought you were anything like Reilly was."
He should put the car back in gear and do what Nicola had suggested this morning before they left—pretend they were actors and show the world a couple in love. Jake knew he was going to have no problem pretending to be in lust with Larissa. His real problem was going to be remembering it was a charade.
"Then what did you mean by not wanting to end up like your mom?"
"Just that Reilly resented her."
"I don't resent you," he said, drawing his finger down the side of her neck. She shivered under his touch and leaned just the tiniest bit closer to him.
He leaned down and kissed the base of her neck. She trembled under his touch, her fingers coming to hold his head. He glanced up at her. Her eyes were closed and she held him with a fierceness he knew she'd deny.
They were both masters of hiding. But he didn't intend to let her hide anymore.
She didn't want a platonic relationship with him and they both knew it.
He raked his teeth down the column of her neck and she moaned deep in her throat. He felt the vibrations against his lips.
"This is crazy," she said.
"This is right," he said, pulling her more fully into his arms. She wedged her hands between them and pushed away slightly.
"What now?"
"We said we'd try to keep this nonsexual."
"God, woman, how many times are you going to bring that up? I think it's obvious we're fighting a losing battle."
"I know."
"Then why'd you bring it up?"
She took a deep breath. "Because I'm not the type of woman who is going to make a good Danforth wife."
"Why not?"
"You need someone of your own class. Someone who comes from money and is used to eating on bone china and drinking from Waterford crystal glasses."
"I don't live like that."
"No, but your family does. And they're going to realize I'm not worthy of the Danforth name."
"I'm not sure I'm worthy of the name. But it's mine and once we're married it'll be yours. I don't want to hear any more about it from you."
"Yes, sir," she said.
"Woman," he growled at her.
She laughed. It made him feel lighter in that moment than he'd have thought possible. The more he learned of Larissa's childhood, the more he understood why she'd kept Peter a secret. Understanding wasn't the same as forgiving, though.
"Now, let's get back on the road. I don't want to miss our flight," he said, putting the car in gear.
* * *
"Want a drink?" Jake asked once they were seated on the plane in Atlanta. There hadn't been a direct flight to Vegas from Savannah.
"Yes, something strong."
"Still wigged out from the landing of our flight from Savannah?" he asked, waving the flight attendant over to them.
"I'd like to say no," she said.
He ordered two bottles of Corona. He handed her one and Larissa played with the lime and bottle while other passengers filed past them, taking their seats.
"It felt like we were on a roller coaster. I hate roller coasters," she said.
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