by Tracy Wolff
“Reece—”
“Let me finish. I got scared. On the couch that night, with you—I got scared.”
She stared at him warily. “Why?”
“I wasn’t ready. Not just for you, but for any woman. Vanessa was my wife.”
“I know that. Things got out of hand.”
“Did they?” He studied her for a minute, watched as the afternoon sunlight played over her skin. Lines of exhaustion were clear—evidence of too many sleepless nights. “I don’t know about that. But I do know I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. Left you to take care of Rose on your own.”
He glanced at their sleeping child, watched as she moved restlessly beneath the light blanket. “She’s my responsibility, too—as are the boys. And I ran away.”
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a gentle hand against her lips. “I want you to know that whatever happens—here with Rose or later, between us—I won’t do that to you again. You deserve better and I—” He cleared his throat, forced himself to continue. “I was a coward to leave you.”
She didn’t respond in any way for long, nerve-racking minutes. Finally, she reached out a hand and stroked it down his cheek. “This is hard for you.”
“It’s hard for you, too. Van—” He stopped, unable to say his wife’s name while he reveled in the touch of another woman.
She seemed to understand, her eyes darkening to the midnight blue of a West Texas sky. “It is hard, but not in the same way. My husband left a long time ago and my loyalty to Vanessa is, obviously, different than yours. But it is okay, Reece. I do understand. I understood when you left. Really.”
He wanted to believe her so badly, wanted to accept her words at face value. But Sarah was such a generous person she could easily be putting on a front for him.
Glancing back at his daughter, his heart hurt all over again at how thin and pale she looked. He decided to leave this thing with Sarah alone, to pick it up at a better time. Right now, he figured they had enough to deal with helping their daughter get well.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE NEXT FEW DAYS passed in a blur of shifts at the hospital with Rose and home with the boys. Sarah and Reece had worked out a schedule so that very rarely were the boys without one of them and Rose never was. Thank God Reece had returned. If this had happened when she was on her own with Rose and Justin and Johnny, Sarah had no idea what she would have done. There was only so much she’d ask Tad to sacrifice and no one else who could put his or her life on hold for the prolonged period it was taking Rose to get well enough to come home.
After Reece’s disappearing act, she’d had her doubts about his ability to stick this thing out. But he’d been rock-solid, immovable and perfect to lean on when her emotions, worries and lack of sleep got the best of her.
“Mrs. Martin?”
Sarah glanced up at the now-familiar doctor’s voice, but she didn’t stop feeding or rocking Rose. Though they’d moved Rose out of the Infant ICU two days ago, today was the first time the baby had shown any interest in her bottles, and Sarah was determined that she get as much formula as her ravenous little body could take.
“She’s doing better today,” the doctor said with a grin. “The nurses say she’s been hungry.”
“She’s been eating every two hours.”
“That’s a good sign. The chest X ray they took this morning came back almost completely clear. It looks like she’s definitely over the worst.”
The relief that swept through her was so acute it was almost pain. Closing her eyes, Sarah murmured a prayer of thanksgiving as she waited to see what else the doctor would say.
“I’d like to keep her one more day, just to ensure she doesn’t relapse. But if this progress continues, by this time tomorrow we’ll be talking about release.”
“Really?” She didn’t even try to hide the hope that filled her. “Rose can go home?”
“If things go as planned,” he reiterated. “I’m going to run one more blood test to make sure the white blood cell count is reasonably normal, but if her pulse ox and appetite stay where they are today, you’ll be free to take her home.”
“Thank you. Oh God, thank you so much.”
He shook his head. “You’re thanking the wrong person. You’ve got quite a little fighter there. Often in these cases, that’s what it comes down to. But you and her father gave her a lot to live for. Sometimes that makes all the difference.”
With a smile and a wink he slipped out the door.
If she hadn’t been holding a now-dozing Rose, Sarah would have danced around the room in celebration. As it was, she contented herself with burying her face in the curve of Rose’s neck and breathing her in. Rose was coming home.
Rose was coming home.
After laying the baby in her crib, she fumbled for the phone. She had to call Reece to tell him the good news. But as she began to dial, a noise behind her alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Turning, she saw him standing there.
Dropping the phone, she went to him. Wrapped herself around his shuddering body and held on for all she was worth. And in that one perfect moment, as joy and relief streamed between them, all was as it should be.
* * *
“IS SHE ASLEEP?” Sarah asked Reece nearly a week later, as he came into the kitchen where she was washing dishes.
“She is. Like a baby.” He grinned at her as he grabbed a towel and began to dry the pans. “I meant to ask, when did the dishwasher break?”
“A couple days after you went to San Francisco. The boys decided their action figures needed to fight a hurricane.”
Reece laughed, the sound sending a little frisson of desire just below her skin. “Who won?”
“No one.” She tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact. Reminding herself of all the reasons it was a bad idea to think of Reece as anything more than a friend, Sarah tried to focus on the conversation. “At last count, all but one action figure melted to the heating coil and the dishwasher has been out of commission ever since.”
“And yet you don’t look angry,” he observed, his voice warm with an amusement that was wreaking havoc with her control.
Why was this happening, she wondered as she viciously scraped at the last of the dinner dishes. Why now, of all times? Why Reece, of all people? Hadn’t she gotten enough rejection when he’d kissed her and run? Or was she so masochistic that she couldn’t stop herself from begging for more?
It was ridiculous. Absurd. Unbelievably awful. This was Vanessa’s husband. She had no right to be looking at him. Thinking about him. Wanting him.
And yet she did think about him. She did want him. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Her libido had been on hiatus for six long years. That it had chosen now, this moment, to wake up felt like a personal betrayal.
But she was an adult. She could control herself, no matter how hot he made her. And she was hot, her skin so sensitive that even the water sliding over her hands felt like an intimate caress.
Glancing at him sideways, she watched as his muscles rippled beneath the worn T-shirt that fit him like a glove. What she wouldn’t give to be able to touch him as intimately.
Vanessa’s husband, she reminded herself as she slammed the plate onto the counter and shut off the water. He was Vanessa’s husband.
Grabbing a towel, she dried her hands as she headed for the family room. She had to get away from—
“Sarah?” Reece’s voice stopped her in her tracks. It was even huskier than usual, lower and more sensual than she’d ever heard it. Suddenly, the shivers shooting down her spine turned to full-fledged quakes. “Where are you going?”
Her mind went blank. “I don’t—Out to the family room, I guess.”
“Come here.” He was speaking so low now that she was sure she had imagined the words. But the expression on his face told her everything she wanted to know. More.
She should run. Just back out of the kitchen and take the stairs two at a time until she was barricaded in her bedroom out
of harm’s way. Oh, she knew Reece would never force her to do anything she didn’t want, but that was the problem. She wanted him more than she should. More than was wise.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Was that breathy sound her voice?
“I think it’s a very good idea.” He put down the towel and leaned against the counter, feet crossed at the ankles. Watched her with all the intensity of a jungle cat.
“Why?”
“Because I want to hold you.”
“Why now? The last time you did, you ran away like your hair was on fire.”
“I was stupid.”
She snorted, even as she took a cautious step back. “You’re a lot of things, Reece. Stupid isn’t one of them.”
“Scared, then.” He didn’t move, but every part of him seemed to go on alert, his eyes tracking her retreat as if she was prey.
“Scared of me?”
“Scared of what you make me feel.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “What do I make you feel?”
“Too much.” He sighed. “More than I should feel.
More than I want to feel.”
“You can’t say that and expect me to come to you.”
Her knees were weak.
“Why not?”
“You don’t want me!”
“I beg to differ.” He glanced down, and she realized for the first time that he was as aroused as she was.
“No.” It was a cry from the battered place inside of her that had gone so long without love. “You want sex.
You don’t want me. You couldn’t.” She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep from falling to sexually charged pieces.
He was across the room in a second. Then she was pressed against him—chest to chest, thigh to thigh, the proof of his desire resting hot and hard against her.
“Why couldn’t I?”
“Vanessa.”
“Is gone.”
“What’s changed?” She pushed against him, but it was like pushing against a sun-warmed cliff. “You ran halfway across the country to get away from me. I’m still the same person I was then.”
“But I’m not the same man.”
“Of course you are.”
“No. I spent most of my time in California thinking about you. So much that the work suffered for the first time in my life.” He bent his head, nibbled on her ear.
“Reece—” Her protest was weak, her resistance growing weaker.
“Hear me out, Sarah.” He skimmed his lips over her jaw to her lips, where his tongue lazily traced the edge of her bottom lip.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks. For months—since before I moved in here. And yes, I’ve hated myself for it. Fought against it. But I was wrong.”
“Vanessa—”
“Stop bringing her up. This is between you and me.”
“Bullshit.” She didn’t know where she found the strength to shove at him, but she did. Satisfaction roared through her as his head snapped back in surprise. “You can tell me it’s just the two of us here, but we both know that’s a crock. She’s here, right between us. On my side as much as on yours.”
“She’s only there if we put her there.”
“How can we not put her there? From the day we met, she’s been there. It’s where she belongs.”
“Vanessa’s dead, Sarah.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He tilted his head to the side, studied her. “I don’t know that you do.” He held a hand up before she could protest. “I’m not saying that to be obnoxious. I’m saying that because until I got your phone call about Rose, I didn’t really, truly comprehend what it meant for Vanessa to be dead. She’s not coming back and we can’t live the rest of our lives like she is.”
“But this thing—” She gestured helplessly between them, shocked at how quickly everything was spinning out of her control.
“You mean our attraction for one another?” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. This time she didn’t fight him.
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you feel guilty?” She waited for his answer like her life depended on it. And maybe it did.
“Not anymore.”
“Why?”
“Sarah, life is precious. We know that better than most. If we make each other happy, why shouldn’t we take the happiness where we can get it? I can’t imagine that Vanessa would hold it against us.”
She wanted to believe him, the need to trust what he was saying—to trust him—so necessary that it was literally tearing her apart. But to do that she had to step outside of her comfort zone. To trust when suspicion came so much more naturally.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know it.”
“Reece—”
“Come with me to bed, Sarah. Let me hold you. It doesn’t have to go any further than that.”
She laughed despite the urge to cry. “Said the spider to the fly.”
His smile was tender, yet so hot it rekindled the desire their argument had put a damper on.
“I need to hold you, Sarah. To feel you against me.”
Part of her wanted to say no, to focus on all the reasons they shouldn’t be together. But as she looked into eyes that were surprisingly open, surprisingly vulnerable, she realized he was anticipating a rejection. He’d laid himself bare, opened himself and his emotions to her, even though he was expecting her to turn away.
The bravery of the act was breathtaking when she considered how long and how hard she’d worked to protect herself. When she realized that she would never be brave enough to do what he had done.
And that’s when she knew. She couldn’t turn him away, couldn’t walk away. Not when she needed him as desperately as he seemed to need her. Not when she wanted to hold him in the night, wanted to feel his warmth against her when the fears and insecurities and nightmares crept in.
Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, she leaned forward until her lips were only a hairbreadth from his. “Don’t hurt me again, Reece. I don’t think I could take it if you did.”
“Sarah, my darling.” He wrapped her in his arms, his embrace the warmest, most solid, most real thing she’d ever felt. “Don’t you know that hurting you means hurting myself?”
His lips spanned the infinitesimal space between them. And any reservations she had were buried beneath the desire that shot through her like a firecracker on the Fourth of July.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMEHOW THEY MADE IT to her room. Reece didn’t remember the journey, didn’t remember lifting his mouth from Sarah’s long enough to actually make the decision to move. He vaguely recalled bumping into some sharp piece of furniture on the way—his outer thigh still throbbed from the encounter—but everything else was a blur. An inconsequential detail next to the only fact that mattered.
Sarah was in his arms, her body pressed against his. Her mind and heart and soul open to his for the very first time.
He wanted to take it slow, to savor her, to make this moment last forever.
He wanted to throw her on the bed and take her like a wild man, to taste and take everything she had to give then demand more.
He wanted everything from her, needed it with an intensity that bordered on madness. Erotic images flashed through his mind—Sarah on the bed, naked. Waiting for him. Sarah up against the wall, crying his name as he pounded into her again and again. Sarah, lost in passion, her skin flushed a rosy pink as she gave herself up to the maelstrom of pleasure and emotion that seethed between them.
He wanted it all, wanted everything, but he was too far gone to take it. He couldn’t unlock his arms from around her, couldn’t let her go even for the brief moments it would take to strip her and himself.
Inhaling sharply, he fought the monstrous need clawing through him. Tried to relax, to focus so that he could bring them both pleasure. He was almost too far gone, his need to be inside her taking precedence o
ver everything else.
“Reece?” she asked, her voice soft and trembly. “Why did you stop?”
His laugh was harsh, but he kept his voice low as he buried his head in the curve between her neck and her shoulder. He licked her and she tasted like sunshine—warm, happy, beautiful. “I’m trying to calm down. Otherwise this will be over before we get started.”
It was her turn to laugh, then she moved away from him. “Oh, no. I don’t think so.” She pulled her red T-shirt over her head and stood there, bare from the waist up. “I’ve waited six years for this and I’m going to savor every second of it.”
He nearly had a heart attack as he saw her unclothed for the first time, the blood rushing from his head to his groin so quickly that the room went dark around the edges. She was beautiful, amazing, her skin gleaming like alabaster in the dim light.
Her words danced through his head, and he tried to make sense of them. But it was hard when his entire focus was on her small, perfectly formed breasts. He swore his mouth began to water with the need to kiss, to suckle.
He was leaning down, intent on finding out if she tasted as good as she looked, when her words finally sank in. “Six years?” he demanded, pulling away just enough to get a clear look at her face. At her eyes. “You haven’t been with anyone since Mike?”
She froze, her eyes widening as she saw his shock. “I don’t sleep around, Reece.”
“I never thought you did. It’s just—”
“Besides, when would I have time?”
“Good point. But still—”
“I don’t want to hear it, so don’t say it. Don’t say anything.” With a grin, she popped her hand over his mouth. “I swear, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. With all your gaping and gasping, you’re going to give me a complex.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, six years—”
“Yes, six years. Now, am I going to end up going for seven or are you actually going to do something about it?”
“Of course I’m going to do something about it,” he answered with a grin, his eyes sweeping over her. “I’m trying to decide where to start. I…”