by Gina Wilkins
Dana’s hands froze on his chest, as though in surprise. And then, very slowly, they crept upward, sliding around his neck. And she was kissing him back-for the very first time.
He could taste the faint saltiness of tears at the corners of her mouth. His kiss turned tender, his lips stroking, soothing, consoling. Beneath the tears he found the spice and sweetness that was Dana. The kiss deepened, grew hotter, hungrier.
And Cody felt himself start to shake.
He tore his mouth from hers with a gasp, and even he couldn’t have said whether it was due to lack of oxygen or a sudden surge of panic.
He wanted too much, too powerfully, too suddenly. He ached with a depth of desire he hadn’t allowed himself in years, a hunger made all the stronger by being suppressed for so long.
Unwilling to make promises he hadn’t thought he could keep, he’d been very careful not to encourage anyone to lean on him, to depend on him, to want anything more from him than a good time and a few laughs. He hadn’t allowed himself to want more.
Until now.
Until Dana.
For a year he’d been denying his feelings for her, ignoring his reactions to her, pushing thoughts of her away whenever they threatened to distract him. For a year he’d told himself she wasn’t his type, that he didn’t want her, that he had no interest in getting involved with a woman like Dana, who would expect—no, demand—so much more than he thought himself capable of giving.
He’d been wasting his time. He’d wanted her when he’d first met her. He wanted her still.
And she thought him a clown. A shallow, unreliable, selfindulgent joker.
The real hell of it was that she was right. And he would be a fool to try to convince her-or himself-otherwise.
Dana was staring at him, her emotion-darkened green eyes searching his face with an intensity that made him want to shut her out before she saw too much. She didn’t seem to be aware that her arms were still locked around his neck. Cody was all too aware of them.
He reached up to gently free himself. “I think I’ll go for a drive. Get some fresh air. Want me to pick up anything for you while I’m out?”
Her eyes dimmed. He could almost see her draw her emotions tight, lock them away. “No,” she said, her voice expressionless. “I can’t think of anything I need. But thank you for offering.”
He almost winced at the bite in her politeness. “I’ll, er, see you later, then,” he said, pushing himself abruptly to his feet. “Um, just tell your family I’m visiting an old friend or something for a couple of hours.”
She nodded.
He needed to get away quickly, before the sight of her trembling, kiss-smudged mouth and tousled, sexy cinnamon hair made him forget again that she was too vulnerable for him to take unfair advantage of her. He turned on one heel and left the room with more haste than dignity.
He was running as much from himself as from Dana.
Cody returned a couple of hours later. He couldn’t have guaranteed that he had himself completely under control, but he couldn’t risk staying away any longer. Dana shouldn’t be forced into making awkward explanations because of his cowardice.
An unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway in front of the house. Eying it curiously, Cody mounted the steps and rang the bell. Hilda opened the door, her face pale, her hands wringing nervously at her waist.
“What’s wrong?” Cody asked sharply, moving to step past her. “Where’s Dana?”
Hilda stalled him with a hand on his forearm. “She and Lynette are with Barbara and the doctor.”
“The doctor? What’s happened?”
“Barbara had a bad spell. Couldn’t breathe. We wanted to call an ambulance, but she refused, so Dana called Barbara’s doctor. He lives just a few blocks away, and he came right over. He said he’s pretty sure she was having a reaction to a new medication. She’s doing better now, though she’s still very weak.”
“Damn.” Cody groaned and raked a hand through his hair. Wasn’t this the way it always was for him? Dana had needed him, and he hadn’t been here for her. He’d been running, pursued by his own old demons.
Could he have illustrated more clearly, for himself or for her, that she shouldn’t start to depend on him?
“Where’s Andy?” he asked abruptly.
“He’s in the den, with Mr. Manningly. He’ll be glad to see you.”
Cody nodded. “I’ll go on in. Let me know if there’s anything I can do, okay?”
“Of course.” Hilda turned to walk back in the direction of Barbara’s bedroom.
Steeling himself, Cody went into the den.
The room was silent. Alan sat in a chair, staring at nothing in particular, occasionally clearing his throat. Andy was curled at one end of the couch, still wearing the jacket and tie he’d reluctantly donned for dinner, though the tie had been loosened and now hung crookedly. His huge, expressive eyes filled with tears when he saw Cody.
A moment later he was across the room, his face buried in Cody’s chest.
Cody locked his arms around the boy, his heart aching. He wished he knew what to say.
Andy looked up at him, his lower lip quivering. “Mom got sick. She couldn’t breathe.”
“Hilda just told me. She said your mom’s better now. The doctor thinks she was having a reaction to a new medicine.”
Andy nodded glumly. “That’s what Dana said.”
Cody smoothed the boy’s wildly disheveled red hair. He wanted very badly to tell Andy that everything would be okay, that his mother would be fine. But he couldn’t say that. Everything wasn’t okay, and Andy was much too bright to believe otherwise.
“Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable?” he suggested instead. “No guy should have to wear a jacket and tie for longer than a couple of hours at a time,” he added.
Andy managed a crooked smile. “I hate wearing a tie.”
“Me, too, pal,” Cody agreed fervently. “So go change into your pj’s and wash your face, okay? You’ll feel better.”
Andy seemed reluctant to leave Cody’s side. “Will you come talk to me later?”
Cody gave the boy a rough, affectionate hug. “You bet. I’ll be in to say good-night.”
Reassured by that promise, Andy left the room, though he looked back over his shoulder as he stepped through the doorway. Cody gave him a bracing thumbs-up, to which Andy responded with a slightly more natural smile.
“The kid likes you,” Alan commented without getting up. “He hasn’t said two words to me since we got home and found all the commotion going on.”
“He needed a hug.”
Alan shifted in his chair. “Yeah, well, I’m not very good at that sort of thing.”
Cody bit back a sarcastic response, all too aware of the many things he wasn’t good at.
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and paced the den, too restless to sit as he waited for Dana.
Would she blame him for leaving tonight to cope with a crisis alone? Would she be angry with him for the abrupt manner in which he’d left her, the way he’d almost pushed her out of his arms?
He certainly couldn’t blame her if she was.
He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a murmur of voices out in the foyer, the closing of the front door as the doctor left. A moment later, Lynette and Dana appeared in the doorway, both looking exhausted.
Lynette walked straight to a chair without pausing to touch or speak to her husband. Dana stood very still, looking at Cody.
Without hesitation, he held out his arms to her.
Without hesitation, she walked into them.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he folded his arms around her. He felt the fine trembles that coursed through her, and he pulled her closer.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth at her ear. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have been here with you.”
“It was awful,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “She couldn’t breathe. Sh
e was gasping and turning blue, but she refused to let us call an ambulance. She got so upset when we suggested it that it only made her worse. Thank God Dr. Levy was home, and so close. He was here within minutes of my call.”
“Why wouldn’t she let you call an ambulance?” Cody asked, genuinely puzzled. Barbara had seemed so levelheaded to him, so well prepared. He hadn’t expected her to turn stubborn over her care.
“She said she didn’t want to go into a hospital yet. She said…she was afraid she wouldn’t come back out.” Dana’s voice broke on the explanation.
Cody held her tightly until she drew a deep breath and pushed away from him.
“Thanks,” she said, avoiding his eyes as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I needed that.”
“Anytime,” he murmured, suddenly aware that Lynette and Alan were watching them. He cleared his throat. “Is Hilda with Barbara now?”
Dana nodded. “We’re going to take turns staying up with her tonight. Barbara’s sleeping now, and Dr. Levy pre dicted that she would sleep soundly all night. He gave her a sedative.”
“You need some rest yourself.”
“I’ll lie down soon. Hilda promised to wake me when she gets tired. Lynette’s going to relieve me early in the morning.”
“I’ll sit with her for a while,” Cody offered. “Whenever you need me to—tonight or tomorrow morning.”
Dana gave him a tired smile of gratitude. “Thanks, but it would probably be better if you keep Andy entertained in the morning—maybe take him out to play basketball or something. You’re good at keeping him diverted.”
Ah, yes, Cody’s true talent. Playing. He nodded. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want me to do.”
Dana frowned as though hearing something in his voice that puzzled her.
Alan distracted them when he rose suddenly from his chair. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a drink. Barbara still keeps the bar in here stocked, doesn’t she?”
Dana turned away from Cody. “Yes. You know where everything is. Help yourself.”
Alan had already moved to the small wet bar discreetly placed in one corner of the large room. “White wine, Lynette?”
She nodded. “Yes, please.”
Alan set glasses and bottles on the mahogany bar. He poured wine for his wife, straight bourbon for himself.
“Dana? Cody? What’ll you have?”
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Dana replied.
“Cody?”
Cody looked at the bottles on the bar and swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. “No.”
If his tone was curt, no one seemed to notice.
“God, what an evening,” Lynette murmured, staring into her wineglass.
Dana moved to sit on the couch, and Cody took his place beside her. “I haven’t had a chance to ask how your dinner with Andy went,” Dana said to Lynette.
Lynette lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “It was all right. Andy was rather quiet.”
“He was probably a bit intimidated,” Dana suggested.
“He’s not used to dining in such elegant restaurants. Since Barbara’s been ill, his outings usually involve fast-food places with his friends.”
“He seemed to have a great deal of fun on his outing with you and Cody the other night,” Lynette said, a touch of resentment tinging her voice.
Dana didn’t answer. Cody didn’t know what to say, either. Truth was, he was sure Andy had had a better time with him and Dana. Lynette and Alan weren’t exactly a fun couple—at least, not as far as he’d seen.
“Speaking of Andy,” Cody said, breaking the awkward silence as he stood. “I promised I’d go up and tell him goodnight.”
“I’ll go with you,” Dana said quickly, standing with him.
Lynette sipped her wine, her eyes shadowed. “Tell him good-night for us, too, will you?”
“Of course,” Dana agreed.
***
Dana and Cody parted outside of Andy’s door. “You talk to him for a little while, okay?” Dana asked. “I want to go wash my face first.”
Cody sensed that she needed a few minutes alone before putting on a cheery face for her little brother’s benefit. He touched her cheek. “Are you okay?”
She gave a weary sigh. “Of course.”
“Dana, I—”
“Go talk to Andy, Cody,” she interrupted, as though afraid of what he might say. “He needs you.”
She walked away before he could respond.
He glanced at Andy’s closed door. He needs you, she’d said.
Grimacing at the ironies of life, Cody tapped on the door. “Andy? It’s me.”
A small voice bade him to come in.
Andy was sitting on the bed, dressed in pajamas decorated with a professional football team’s logo. A hand-held video game lay beside him, turned off. A battered stuffed dog lay on the pillow beside Andy; the boy quickly pushed it away as though reluctant to be caught holding it.
Cody picked up the scruffy dog and smiled. “What’s his name?”
Looking embarrassed, Andy shrugged. “I used to call him Tramp. Back when I was a little kid. I used to sleep with him. I’m too big for that now, of course.”
“I had a stuffed monkey. You know, the kind with the plastic banana in one hand? I called him Jones. Slept with him until I was twelve.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Cody sat on the bed, still holding the toy. “Only reason I gave him up then was because he was falling apart.
I don’t know what ever happened to him-I think maybe my mom had him bronzed.”
Andy smiled. “Not really.”
“No.” Cody returned the smile. “Not really. She probably has him packed away somewhere with my baby clothes.”
“Last time he was here for a visit, Alan said I should throw Tramp away. Said he looked grubby and was probably full of germs. He said I was too big to sleep with a doll.”
Cody bit his tongue until he fancied he could taste blood. “I don’t agree,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes a guy needs an old friend in the middle of the night. To tell you the truth, there are still times when I wake up and miss Jones.”
“Really?”
Cody ruffled the boy’s hair. “Really. You keep ol’ Tramp around as long as you want, you hear?”
And to hell with whatever Alan has to say about it, he thought recklessly.
Andy reached for the toy and set it carefully on the bed close beside him. “I will. Thanks.”
“You bet.”
Andy raised his knees, crossed his arms on them and rested his chin on his wrists. “Did you see Mom?” he asked.
“No. She’s sleeping. The doctor left a little while ago.”
“Is she going to be okay—for tonight, I mean?”
Cody rested a hand on the boy’s back. “For tonight, yes. Hilda and Dana and Lynette are going to take turns sitting with her just to be sure.”
Andy ducked his head so that his face was hidden in the crook of his elbow. His voice was muffled. “When we got home, and the doctor was here, and they said Mom couldn’t breathe…”
“You were scared?” Cody guessed when the boy’s voice faded.
Andy nodded into his arm. “Yeah. I thought…I thought this was it. That she…”
Cody shifted closer. “It’s okay to be afraid, Andy. And it’s okay to get mad sometimes.”
Andy lifted his head. His round cheeks were damp. “I do get mad,” he whispered.
“I know. I don’t blame you. It isn’t…well, it just isn’t fair.” Cody thought of how Dana had used those very words when she was so angry with him for refusing to help her with her endeavor to get custody of Andy.
“Other kids have dads and moms,” Andy mumbled, looking defiant and guilty at the same time. “My dad’s already dead and now I’m losing my mom.”
Cody had never felt more at a loss, less sure of himself. What if he said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing? Made Andy more miserable than he already was?
<
br /> “I’m sorry, Andy,” he said, feeling the uselessness of the words as they left him. Thinking again of how blessed he’d been to have his family all these years, how thoughtless he’d been not to fully comprehend his luck.
Needing to say something more, he cleared his throat. “You have your sisters, you know. They both love you very much.”
Andy nodded and swiped at his cheek with one hand. “I’m sure lucky to have Dana. She’s the best sister in the world.”
“And Lynette?” Cody prodded carefully.
“Lynette’s okay. When she’s not around Alan she can be fun sometimes. Alan’s boring. All he talked about at dinner was the stock market and stuff. He thought I should learn about it, he said.”
“He didn’t know what else to say,” Cody said, forcing himself to be objective. “I’m sure he was trying to make conversation.”
“You don’t talk to me like I’m a stupid kid.”
“I have a niece and nephew, remember? Alan doesn’t spend much time with kids.”
Andy shuddered. “Mom…Mom says I’ll probably go live with them someday. I don’t want to go to New York. I don’t want to live with Alan and Lynette. I want to stay here. Or move in with Dana.”
“Andy—” Cody groped helplessly for the right words. They didn’t come to him.
Andy’s breath was catching in quiet sobs now. His eyes were anguished. “I don’t want to live with them, Cody. They don’t want me.”
Cody opened his mouth to assure him he was wrong, that Lynette and Alan did want him. The lie stuck in his throat.
Andy reached out to catch Cody’s shirt in one small hand. “You’re going to marry Dana. Can’t you talk to them for me? Can’t you tell them I want to stay with her?”
Oh, hell. Looked as if Cody was getting drawn into this no matter how hard he’d tried to stay out of it. He should have known all along that it was inevitable. “Andy, I—”
Andy suddenly winced and let his hand fall. “Maybe you’d rather I would go to New York,” he muttered. “I guess when you and Dana get married, you’re going to want to live by yourselves for a while. Have your own kids, maybe.”
Cody reached out to take the boy’s shoulders in his hands. He looked straight into Andy’s tear-filled eyes when he spoke. “You’re wrong, Andy. Dana would like nothing better than for you to live with her when you need another place to go. She loves you more than anything else in the world.”