Passion's Price

by Gwynne Forster

  “Darlene, for heaven’s sake, be careful what you say. I’m trying to make you see that you and I have to find common ground. Otherwise we—”

  “I hope you don’t mind me interfering here,” Maggie said, “and if you do, I’m gon’ talk anyhow.” She took a seat opposite them. “I’ve been listening to this argument, and I know where it comes from. Darlene, you have to stop looking at Mike as being controlling. He’s a man, and men have a strong need to protect the women they care for.” Darlene opened her mouth as if to speak, but Maggie raised her hand. “You can talk after I finish.

  “Mike cares a lot for you, and you feel the same way about him. So don’t be foolish and destroy what looks to me like a beautiful thing. Anybody can see how you feel about each other. Why do you think Clark and Tyra are giving you so much space? Darlene, you’ve spent so much time proving to Clark, Tyra and me that you’re grown up and you can run your own life and trying to prove to those men you work with that you’re a good lawyer that you’re taking the same attitude with Mike. Stop looking at him as a threat. He’s a man, and seeing that shouldn’t make you defensive.”

  She looked at Mike. “Ease up, Mike. You’re the second man Darlene ever brought to this house, and the first to spend the night. The other one came once and that was for Thanksgiving dinner. Darlene has to learn that she can no longer lower her lashes, flirt and use her charm to get what she wants. Teach her to deal with you as an equal. And Darlene, you will soon learn that a man hurts the same as a woman, only it goes deeper and lasts much longer.

  “I left your supper on the stove. Dessert’s in the refrigerator, and the table’s set in the kitchen. I’m going to the movies, and I’ll be back around eleven-thirty. That should give you plenty of time to fix things between you. And I mean fix it.”

  She got up and headed for the front door, and although he was still trying to absorb the tongue-lashing she’d given them, he had the presence of mind to walk to the door. “It’s dark already. Are you taking a taxi?”

  “The bus stops half a block from the theater,” Maggie said.

  “Wait a minute.” Maybe Frederick was different from Memphis, but prevention beat cure any day. “Do you have the phone number for a taxi?” he called to Darlene. She gave him one. He dialed it, called the taxi. “At least you didn’t tell me to mind my business.”

  “Be patient, Mike. You’ll find it well worth your while.”

  “I know that, Maggie. The youngest child in the family is always spoiled and precocious.”

  “She was. Her mother said she walked at eight months, toilet-trained herself and knew the alphabet and how to count before she was three. She’s always been precocious. But since you’ve been here, I’ve seen some marked changes in her. Clark and Tyra said the same. She’s more thoughtful.”

  “Here’s your taxi.” He opened the door and walked out to the taxi with her. After paying the cabbie, he handed Maggie a ten-dollar bill. “Take a taxi back.” She reached up, kissed his cheek and ducked her head back in the cab. He was certain that he saw appreciation in her eyes.

  Inside the house, he found Darlene sitting as he’d left her. “You’re very pensive,” he said, sitting down and easing an arm around her.

  She scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Do you think I’m contentious?”

  “No, I don’t. I think you need to learn to compromise. We’ll have disagreements, but if both of us insist on having our way, we won’t be happy together. I’m hungry.”

  He took his plate from the table setting and went to the stove. “Let’s see. Chicken and dumplings, string beans, a carrot soufflé and corn bread. Oh, boy!” He waited until Darlene served herself and joined him. “Do you usually say grace?” he asked her.

  “When I remember to do it, I do.”

  He said the grace. “I want my kids to say the grace before they eat and their prayers before they go to bed. That’s the least I can teach them.”

  “Can you come back next weekend?” she asked, startling him so completely that his fork clattered against his plate.

  “You want me to?”

  “If it’s inconvenient, but—”

  “Of course I want to come back next weekend, and I will.”

  She looked at him with a diffidence that he didn’t associate with her. “Because of me or for Maggie’s cooking?”

  Another surprise. “I certainly hope you meant that to be funny. If you need an answer, I’ll be here for you, not for food.”

  “Sorry, but Maggie gave me such a jolt that I…I don’t know. I was thinking about me and…and what I wanted and didn’t want. Maybe you can write down a few questions that I can ask that witness.”

  His head jerked up. “Sure. I’ll be glad to. According to the answers you get, you may want to follow up.”

  “What kind of questions are important?” she asked him.

  He restrained the deep sigh of relief that nearly escaped him. He wanted to avoid anything that would compromise the case. “Places she’s traveled in the last six months, her occupation, her siblings and other close family members, questions that flow from her answers. That’s just off the top of my head.”

  “I…uh…I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with after you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  He hoped he was wrong, but he had a suspicion that she didn’t take his work seriously. “Darlene, I’ve been a detective since I was twenty-six. I’ll be thirty-five in January so that’s nine years in the job.”

  She patted his knee. “You’re getting old. Why did you decide to be a detective?”

  He leaned back, comfortable with himself and with the topic. They didn’t really know each other, and he suspected that was their problem. This exchange was overdue. “With two degrees in criminology, there wasn’t much else I could do, since I didn’t plan to teach or work in a prison. I’ve wanted to be a detective since I was eight and my favorite stories and books were by Arthur Conan Doyle and Erle Stanley Gardner.”

  “I’m glad you’re a detective. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  He stroked her arm. “Sure you would have. You were mine from the day you were born.”

  She bolted upright. “I didn’t say I was yours.”

  He pulled her back into his arms. “You didn’t have to say it. Action speaks louder than words ever will.”

  He knew that she was only half kidding, that she didn’t think she wanted to belong to a man. Still fighting for independence, was she? He’d put an end to that. “If you don’t belong to me, I’d be foolish to allow myself to belong to you, wouldn’t I?” he said.

  She moved away from him and stared into his face, her own face marred by a deep frown. “Are you telling me that you belong to me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I want to,” he said, “but I’m not stupid. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d let myself care for a woman who didn’t care for me. I might for a few days, but then I’d give myself a good kick in the behind, and she’d be history.”

  She lowered her lashes and then raised them slowly in a blatant act of flirtation. “Don’t count on my not caring. I don’t see that in my future. At least, not now.”

  “At least not now, huh? Come here, woman!”

  Darlene rimmed her lips with the tip of her tongue, looked at his mouth and then slowly raised her gaze to meet his eyes, eyes that seemed to vibrate with passion “You talking to me?” she said, all the while moving her mouth closer to his.

  “Yeah!”

  She didn’t know how or when it happened, but his hands were all over her, his long fingers heating her to boiling point while his magic tongue danced in and out of her mouth, showing her what she’d get in the minutes to come. He pulled his tongue out of her mouth and brushed his lips over her eyes, face, ears and neck, but she had to have more.

  “Kiss me, Mike. I need you to—”

  “Tell me what you want.” He stared into her eyes as his fingers teased the flesh
of her bare arms, and every place he touched seemed to explode into a blaze. “Tell me.”

  “I…I want you in me, deep, as far as you can go.” His mouth covered hers, and he plunged his tongue into her. Exasperated, she grabbed his hand and stroked the nipple of her left breast, hard and almost ruthlessly. “Kiss me. Why don’t you kiss me?” she moaned.

  “Open this thing and let me at it,” he said, his voice urgent as his hot breath fanned her skin.

  She shoved his hand into her blouse and released her breast. He sucked the nipple into his mouth. Her cry could be heard all over the house, and with that encouragement, he picked her up and carried her to his room.

  “How do you get out of this thing?” he asked after kicking the door closed. She unbuttoned the top three buttons, pulled the blouse over her head, tossed it across the room, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. When, in his haste, he pulled her bra off, his fingers skimmed over her breast, grazing her nipples and sending hot darts of electricity throughout her body. He stared into her eyes, and when she wet her lips, he bent to her breast, sucked an erect nipple into his mouth and slipped his left hand into her bikini panties.

  “Ooh,” she moaned when he began rubbing her erect clitoris. “Why don’t you just get in me?”

  “Because I want you to enjoy this.”

  “I am. I will. I’ll die if you don’t get in me now.”

  Next thing she knew, he had her across the bed, pulled her hips to the edge of it, hooked her knees across his shoulders and was flicking at the edge of her vulva with his sweet tongue. “Stop teasing me. I can’t stand this.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it.” He sucked on her clitoris. Frantic, she swung her hips up to him just as he shoved his tongue into her. Heat swirled at the bottom of her feet and, this time, she knew what to expect. “Please Mike. I’ll come before you get in me.”

  He stripped himself, pulled a condom from under the pillow and prepared to join her. But before he put on the condom, she remembered the pleasure he seemed to get from the intimate kiss she gave him the last time they made love. So she sat up, took him into her hands, stroked him and then leaned forward and sucked him into her mouth, enjoying him as if sucking on a lollipop. Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away.

  “I thought you liked that.”

  “I love it, but you almost made me climax, and I don’t want that to happen yet.” He joined her and began an onslaught on her body, kissing, stroking and teasing until she was nearly out of her mind.

  “Get in me, honey. You’re driving me crazy.”

  “All right.” He handed her the condom, and she sheathed him, marveling at his size, his hardness and the way he made her feel. He slipped into her, and with one arm around her shoulder and the other around her hips, he smiled down at her. She thought she’d go out of her mind. Then he unleashed his power, and he was over her, under her, in her and all around her, filling her, emptying her, molding her body, heart and mind, making her his.

  “Who do you belong to?” He asked the question as her insides began to erupt in what seemed like an earthquake. “Tell me. Whose woman are you?”

  “Yours,” she moaned. “You know I’m yours. Give it to me harder. Stop playing with me.”

  “I’m not playing with you. Be patient, love. It’s coming. Oh, yes!”

  He seemed to fling her up and then toss her back down, until she felt herself grip him with such force that he paused as if glued to her. And then the all-powerful release.

  At that moment, he shouted, “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.” His tremors shook her, and he collapsed, letting his elbows take his weight.

  Neither of them spoke, and she knew that, like her, Mike was absorbing the impact of what they’d just done and what it meant. To her, at least, it meant forever, and she prayed that she hadn’t made a mistake, because an error of such gargantuan proportions would surely ruin her life. She hadn’t experienced true love in the past, and she couldn’t swear that that was what she was feeling right then, but she knew that whatever it was, it had a powerful hold on her.

  “How do you feel?”

  She told him the truth. “I don’t know. This goes far beyond what I felt with you in Memphis. It was…I guess it was natural, and it…it was as if I didn’t exist anymore. I was you. Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying. It was incredible, but at times I thought I was about to die.”

  He kissed her nose and held her closer. “The better we know and understand each other’s needs, the better it should get.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean you’re planning to make a sex fiend out of me?”

  His eyes sparkled, and a grin crawled over his face. “I’m damned well going to do my best.”

  She whacked his butt, raised her right knee and winked. “Two can play that game.”

  “Right, but I’ve been playing it longer than you have.” Her eyebrows shot up. He was hard and moving. She wrapped her arms around him and prepared herself for another trip to paradise.

  Shortly after noon the next day, Sunday, she stood at the front door preparing to drive Mike to BWI Thurgood Marshall International Airport. Maggie joined them and handed Mike a package.

  “Put this in your bag,” she said to Mike. “It’ll keep nice and fresh till you get home. When you coming back?”

  “Next weekend.”

  Maggie nodded her head as she gazed at him. “Good. Very good. You didn’t say so, but I can see that you straightened things out. Never throw God’s blessings back at him. It’s not a smart thing to do. Bless you.” She kissed his cheek and left them.

  “If she likes you, she shouldn’t make it so obvious,” Darlene grumbled. “Anybody’d think she wants to get rid of me.”

  “Look at it this way,” Mike said as they headed for the airport in her car. “She knows that sooner or later some guy is going to get you, and she’d rather I was that guy. Don’t park,” he said when they arrived at the airport. “Kiss me right here. I’ll see you next Friday afternoon, and in the meantime see that no man stops within thirty feet of you.”

  “What?”

  “Well, ten feet.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, reached for his bag, jumped out of the car and didn’t look back.

  In a moment of inspiration, she realized that he was vulnerable and hadn’t had much experience with vulnerability. Well, neither have I, honey, and I’m learning to deal with it.

  Back in Memphis, Mike returned to his daily routine, although some of the spice had gone out of it, and he knew why. Minutes seemed like hours and hours like days as the week crawled by. He satisfied himself that Darlene’s client was connected to the Pickney woman in the sense that they had stumbled onto a family of polished thieves. Darlene’s client and her witness were unaware that one of their relatives was in a Memphis jail, or Darlene would not have been told to get in touch with her as a corroborative witness. Who knew what else this family of grifters was involved in?

  Boyd Farmer was the lone witness who could bring the thieves to justice and Mike was determined that he make to trial. That evening. Mike drove out to Boyd’s house carrying two roast-beef dinners and a quart of butter-pecan ice cream.

  “Come in. Haven’t seen you in ages,” Boyd said.

  “I know,” Mike answered, although he didn’t consider eleven days such a long time. “I brought us some supper. Thought we’d play a little gin. You up to it?”

  “What’d you bring to eat? The woman who looks after the place quit. She didn’t believe my story that nobody was allowed to enter or leave here. I don’t much believe it, either.”

  “Why not? That’s how we met.” Mike said. He went into the kitchen and put the food on the counter and the ice cream in the freezer compartment of the refrigerator.

  “Darlene called me twice,” Boyd said. “She’s the sweetest woman I’ve met in years. I wish I had a daughter like her.”

  Mike regarded Boyd carefully. “We’d better eat before thi
s stuff gets cold. Who’s doing your shopping?”

  “I am. Who else? I’m not a baby. At seventy-one, I’m a better man than some of these young Turks around here. I put a few beers in the bottom of the refrigerator in case you came by one evening.”

  Mike cocked an ear. Young Turks, eh? One of these days he’d find out who Boyd Farmer really was. Foolish, he definitely was not, no matter what anybody said.

  Boyd set the table, opened a bottle of beer and placed it where Mike was to sit. “I used to be a pretty good cook when I was young and entertained girlfriends, but I’m not doing fancy cooking for me to eat by myself. I just want to get full.”

  “Solid reasoning,” Mike said and sat down.

  After they finished the meal, Mike cleaned the kitchen and went into the living room, where Boyd was shuffling the cards. He put the cards down, looked at Mike. “I wouldn’t mind having you for a son, either.”

  Mike swallowed rapidly and resisted the urge to pat the old man’s hand. “I’m pleased, Boyd.”

  “Now, when I think of you, Darlene’s there with you. Aren’t you going to see her?”

  Mike thought for a few minutes. Hadn’t he come to regard the man as a friend? Why shouldn’t he share his feelings with him? “I spent the weekend with her, Boyd. So stop worrying about us. We’re working on it.”

  Boyd’s face beamed in a glowing smile. “Wonderful. I knew you could recognize a fine woman when you saw one. Deal.”

  Mike drove home hours later thinking that no matter what game they played, be it gin, pinochle, or blackjack, Boyd managed to win. He had discovered that he enjoyed the man’s company, that he could relax and be himself. And in his line of work, that was a luxury. Boyd neither asked anything of him nor expected anything; he merely accepted such friendship as Mike had to give.

  “The guy is growing on me,” Mike said to himself. Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t lost his parents four days after he went to college. A deep sigh flowed out of him. No point in reliving the past. His life was his job, and lately that hadn’t been so bad, he thought. He’d received three rewards from that job—getting to knowing Darlene and Boyd, and a promotion to chief of his unit. Not bad for six weeks of torture.