A New Forever

by Alta Hensley

  "Well, to me it's something very intimate between the two people involved, but it seemed to help keep her from doing things she oughtn't—she never wore her seat belt until I wore out her bottom one time when I caught her without it one day by accident. And she didn't even own a winter coat—"

  Elodie's eyes darted away from his. She didn't own one either, but not for the same reason. April had thought they were unnecessary; she was one of those people who were always warm. Elodie, on the other hand, didn't have one because she couldn't afford it.

  But Clay was too eagle-eyed to miss something like that. Several somethings. "Eat your appetizer before it gets—" he smiled and gave the sexiest little wink, "before it gets cold."

  She couldn't help but giggle, which wasn't something she did freely, but with Clay, she couldn't help but feel happy.

  "And why, pray tell, don't you have a winter coat?" he asked.

  Elodie stopped with a ball of sherbet-colored melon on its way to her mouth. "How would you know whether or not I have a coat?"

  "I remember from last year. And I distinctly remember telling you to get a coat then." He wiped his very sensual lips with his white linen napkin. "Did you?"

  She had to think about her answer for a moment, and then quickly decided to avoid giving a direct answer. "I think I'll take the fifth." Despite the fact that their discussion had her sitting on tenterhooks, and seconds ago she could have sworn she couldn't eat a thing, the sweet, salty smell called to her, and she began to delicately devour the bounty before her.

  "No, no, no. The fifth isn't available to you, any more than it was available to April."

  "But I'm not April." The statement was firm and strong, as if she was trying to reinforce it to herself as well as to him. Elodie didn't want to be April, and she didn't want him replacing April with her under any circumstances, fantasy life be damned.

  He gave her a look that she was sure must have been "the look" that April had referred to so often. "I know that. But you're her sister, and it's my brother-in-law-ly duty," he looked confused at himself and the way he'd mangled the English language, "to make sure that you're as healthy as you can be, too."

  Elodie snorted. "You have no such duty to me."

  "I need to do a better job of protecting you."

  Her stomach flipped at his words, and a sudden urge to feel his arms around her almost knocked her out of her chair. It took all her might to barely squeak out, "I can take care of myself."

  Their entrées arrived and were presented to them with a flourish. Once they were alone again, Clay leaned towards Elodie, grabbed her hand, and played his trump card. "It's what April would have wanted. You know that as well as I do. She wouldn't want me to leave you alone."

  How could Elodie ever hope to argue with that? She cut into a steak that practically fell apart when she threatened it with the knife and fork. It literally melted in her mouth, and a small groan escaped her as she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation for a moment. It had been a long time since she'd had a meal like this.

  When she opened her eyes, Clay was staring right at her, as if she was dessert. "Uh, how do you know that April would want you to look after me?" She was groping for something—anything—to say to distract him. Those eyes were robbing her of what few remaining shreds of flimsy protection around her fragile heart she had. He could see into her soul, she was sure; see all of the things she'd dreamt of doing with him, she was certain he could discern those innermost secrets he should never know.

  "Because she mentioned it one time—that, if anything happened to her, she wanted me to keep an eye out for you. It's my manly duty… to watch over you," Clay said.

  Elodie took a swig of her water, hoping it would cool her down from the inside out, but no such luck. The more they talked, the more she felt the need to fidget. His effect on her was tangible. She was still breathing much more heavily than she usually did, although she was consciously trying to hide it. Her skin was hot and tight all over, not considering the blushes he caused with nearly every sentence. Her fingers were frozen with nerves, yet that nether area between her legs surged and throbbed with excess heat, and she could feel herself dripping into her panties.

  He was too close. He was too damned close, in more ways than one.

  Meanwhile, she was trying desperately not to let any of it show. If he even suspected... she would never recover.

  So she cut and took another bite of her steak, but she'd lost the enjoyment of it, chewing robotically and swallowing so hard it might as well have been a clump of dryer lint. "And you think that April meant you should oversee my wardrobe?" she said.

  He was eating his meal as if she wasn't just about to explode two feet away from him. "I most certainly do. I have been lax in my duties, and I'm going to rectify that situation as soon as possible." Clay leaned forward, looking her directly in the eye. "I want you to go out and buy yourself a winter coat, and I want to see it the next time we get together, or you will not like the consequences, I promise you."

  "Consequences?" She giggled uncomfortably. "What? Are you going to spank me if I don't?"

  "Yes." His look made it very clear he wasn't joking.

  "Ha ha, very funny." She was trying to make light of the situation, even though the look on his face showed he was serious, and the ache deep within her pussy revealed that she wasn't one hundred percent opposed to the idea.

  "I'm a man of my word, Elodie. So I advise you to get a coat, or you won't be sitting comfortably for quite some time."

  Her eyes widened. How the hell was she going to do that? She was barely making her rent, paying her bills, buying groceries and painting supplies. Sometimes groceries took a decided back seat to everything else. A new coat was out of the question. She could go to Goodwill, she supposed, but she didn't really want to. Elodie wasn't much on wearing other peoples' clothes. But the bigger question… was he serious? Would he actually spank her?

  "And I want us to get together more often than once a month, too. I don't have much of a social life, and I don't imagine you do, either, no offense. It wouldn't hurt either of us to get out more often and go do things. We can see movies, and go out to dinner, and go bowling… or I don't know. Whatever we want."

  Elodie was wondering how she was going to pay for all of this, but she didn't say anything, concentrating instead on her meal.

  "I don't want to lose contact with you, Elodie. I don't want to push you too hard or piss you off—although I can't remember a time when I have ever seen you angry. But I realize that I want to take care of you—that it feels good to have someone to look after again. April was a handful—all bounce and go. You are more fragile, but with the familiar stubborn streak that your family is cursed with." He reached over and took her hand in his. Elodie instantly tried to pull her hand back, but he refused to let her go, holding gently but firmly, not allowing her to wiggle her way out of his careful grasp.

  She was practically in a panic. She did not want him touching her. The man was sharp as a tack, and he was sure to discover her immediate response to him if he was able to lay hands on her any time he wanted. So she concentrated all of her effort—every ounce of her being—on retrieving that hand, but got absolutely nowhere. He wasn't hurting her at all, he was merely holding on to her hand with calm determination.

  She'd been concentrating so hard she hadn't been looking at him, but when her eyes flitted up to his, she stopped cold. His eyebrow was up again, his chin down, his full, sensual lips in a tight line across his face.

  "That's better. You act like I'm going to hack it off or something." He sighed in exasperation, squeezing her fingers tightly twice, then letting go. "I just wanted to emphasize what I'm saying. I'm not trying to be a hard-assed jerk. I care. I always have. I know you're not used to that, but you should be. I'm a part of your family—I'm the closest part of your family, physically and emotionally, unless I missed my mark."

  He hadn't, of course, he was dead on, but Elodie was as unlikely to admit t
hat to him as she was to cop to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. He was the closest family member to her. The rest of the clan had moved away—they were all boys, and had wives and families of their own they were busy with. It wasn't that they didn't love her, they did. But they weren't there, and they didn't know, and as long as there wasn't some sort of an emergency, they didn't have much interest in knowing about all of her trials and tribulations.

  They were seasonal family; Christmas and Easter, and the occasional birthday.

  But April had been in the same town, and they had been automatically closer, and Clay was included in their relationship by extension. He was the closest family member to her, despite April's loss.

  It was an entirely sobering thought.

  "So," Clay continued as if she hadn't been dumbstruck at what he'd been saying. "When should we get together next week?"

  Elodie had to suppress a snort. It wasn't as if her social calendar was so terribly full that she wasn't going to be able to fit him in between her couture fittings and her flower arranging classes. It was more likely that she wasn't going to be able to afford to see him more often—she was barely able to cover the lunches they had.

  But she didn't want to challenge him; not here, and not now. She imagined he'd notice her absence when the time came. She could only hope that decorum would keep him from doing anything drastic—like spanking her—despite his threats. It wouldn't be right for him to spank her, even though she couldn't fight the desire of wanting him to do so.

  Taking self-delusion to its highest level, Elodie sat back in her chair, mentally trying to finagle her barely there finances so that she might actually be able to afford to see him next week... depending on what bills she could put off paying, and how little she ate until then. "I don't know. You have more of a life than I do. You tell me."

  They decided to meet and go to a movie the following Saturday afternoon. Clay had wanted it to be an evening show, but Elodie pushed for a matinee, which was less expensive.

  The rest of dinner was much less intense. Clay got her talking about the water right issues the local farmers were struggling with, and television, and other relatively neutral subjects. She seemed to relax a lot, until he glared at her when she put the dessert menu down and announced she didn't want to have anything.

  "Pick something. We'll split it," he fairly growled. "You look like you need a good solid meal and could stand to put on a few pounds. I've noticed that you have lost quite a bit of weight since April died. I understand it's a normal part of the grieving process, but, Elodie, you are literally skin and bones."

  Seeing that he wasn't going to relent, she gave a little angry sigh, then reached for the menu again. They settled on a brownie sundae that was literally sinful—a slightly under done brownie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream, hot fudge and caramel sauce, as well as three big swirly spirals of whipped cream.

  Chapter 6

  Elodie groaned while tasting her first mouthful of the confection, and Clay found himself wondering if she sounded like that in bed. All of a sudden, he was rock hard, and that wasn't a condition he was used to being in lately. In fact, he didn't think he'd had an erection since April had died. It just wasn't something he thought about.

  Clay was a one woman man, and that position had been filled for a lot of his life. He and April had been opposites in a lot of ways, but their sex drives and sexual interests had been perfectly matched. He had always had a very high sex drive, and April had more than met that challenge. Frankly, if he ever met and got involved with anyone else—not that he was looking, he wasn't—he could only see the quality of his sex life coming down a few notches from the incredible synergy he'd had with April.

  But Elodie… Clay had never considered Elodie in a sexual manner, but apparently his body had. She was the only woman to have inspired this response in him in five years, and it made him want to take another look at her—and watching her eat this dessert was just about going to kill him, he could tell.

  She was unselfconsciously sexy. Clay knew that Elodie wasn't trying to entice him—exactly the opposite was true, in fact. She wanted to melt into the woodwork with pretty much anyone, especially him, apparently. But she was taking a spoonful of that decadent dessert and eating it, then pulling the spoon out of her mouth very, very slowly, with her eyes closed, her face the very picture of bliss.

  He wanted to see her like that, but not in relation to food. He was getting more and more uncomfortable by the second, having to shift in the chair and try to adjust himself as discreetly as possible. He was afraid that, when he had to stand up when they left, the evidence of his desire was going to be in plain sight.

  Clay barely had one bite of the brownie—he was spending all his time watching her, although he tried not to let her see it, knowing she would stop as soon as she realized that his eyes were on her.

  All good things must come to an end, though. Elodie put her spoon down in the bowl and looked up at him sheepishly. "I'm so sorry! I ate the whole thing on you! It just tasted so good—"

  "No problem at all. I don't need it anyway, and I much preferred watching you enjoy it so much."

  She blushed the way she always did, but she seemed happy and content for the first time the whole evening, and he found himself wanting to make her feel that way again.

  They each had a cup of coffee, which gave him just about the time he needed to recover some control over himself. He realized, in his truck on the way back to her place, that he didn't want to let her go. But when he suggested that he come up to her apartment, she got that wary look in her eyes again, and practically backed out of the truck and away from him.

  "I'm fine. I can let myself in. No need for you to get out of the warm truck," she said as she quickly shut the door and made her way to the rundown apartment building.

  "Hold on!" he called as he killed the engine and bolted after her. "You are stripping me of my gentlemanly duty of walking a lady to the door."

  Clay caught up with her at the top of the stairs and, without thinking and acting on impulse alone, followed an age-old instinct. He took her into his arms and bent her back, making it necessary for her to reach up and cup the back of his neck to maintain her balance. Those small, soft fingers landed on his sensitive nape as he settled his mouth gently down onto hers.

  Elodie's mouth was open from the shock of it, and Clay took advantage of that fact, slipping his tongue past her lips to plunder beyond. She still tasted of caramel and chocolate, and he wanted more. He wanted all of her, and the need that washed over him was so great, he wasn't at all sure he could control it. It flooded through him like an avalanche, leaving him aching for her, for every inch of her. Always, before, there had been April to sate his voracious desires.

  Now, as he was beginning to see, there was Elodie—to both spark and satiate his appetite.

  And he wanted her.

  And he would have her.

  "Clay…" She murmured against his lips, but didn't pull away.

  He continued to dance his tongue with hers, feeling sensations course through his body that he had thought long dead. For the first time since April's death, he felt alive again. Truly alive. His heart beat harder with every second of the kiss. It was almost as if Elodie was breathing life into his soul once again.

  "Clay," she breathed again, this time putting her hand against his chest and softly pushing him away. "This is wrong. We can't."

  Shaking his head, he continued the kiss. He didn't want to stop and face the harsh reality of their situation, but she continued to press away. Reluctantly, he pulled back to stare into her startled, wide eyes. "Tell me it doesn't feel right," he said.

  "It does," she whispered. "But we can't… April."

  He positioned her body so he could embrace her fully against his chest and stroked the back of her head, not sure he could find the right words to say. "She's been gone a long time, Elodie."

  She snuggled her face against his chest, clearly enjoying the close proximity as much
as he. "She has. But she was your wife, and my sister. This isn't right."

  A small bubble of rage attacked his core at the unfairness of his fate. "Says who? Who gets to make the rules in something so tragic as this? Is there some rulebook I'm not aware of? This is between you and me, and us alone." He pulled her off his chest so he could stare directly in her eyes. "I don't have the answers. I don't know how to make this right. But I know I feel something, and I know you feel something, too. What that is? I don't know." He kissed her softly on the lips before adding, "All I ask is that we walk toward what could be between you and I instead of pushing away. Let's at least be open to the possibility. Okay?"

  Tears welled in her eyes and her arms clung tighter around him. "Yes. I would like that." A single tear dripped down her cheek. "Does it make me an awful person because I want that?"

  "No, Elodie." He hugged her so tight he worried he may actually break her fragile frame. "You are not an awful person. We will take this very slow. So slowly that we don't have to search for the answers… they will just find us."

  She nodded in agreement. "So now what?"

  He kissed her softly, but for longer this time, and then he begrudgingly pulled away. "We go on another date to the movies. One date, one step at a time." He kissed her one more time and wiped the tears in her eyes. "Goodnight, Elodie."

  "Goodnight, Clay."

  Chapter 7

  They'd met for the movie just as he'd wanted. He'd stopped and picked her up, then they'd gone to the theatre. But in the parking lot, he turned off the engine, and swiveled in his seat to look her straight in the eye. "You didn't buy the coat, did you?"

  Elodie looked down, suddenly finding the third button on his flannel shirt to be infinitely fascinating. "How did you know?"