Sex Drive

by Susan Lyons

  “Theresa.” He came to me and caught my hand. “I don’t want to get between you and your parents.”

  I shook my head. “We’ll work things out.” I’d make them understand.

  Fortunately, he took me at my word and we both got ready to leave.

  “What about your grandmother?” he asked as we left the room. “Want to go visit?”

  I’d talked to Merilee about Gran. “Apparently she’s sharper in the mornings. How about we go tomorrow, on the way to the airport?”

  “Sure.”

  He’d already checked out of the hotel, so we took his luggage down to Merilee’s car. As I drove to my parents’ house, he used his cell to call his agent, tell her what we’d decided, and ask her to discuss it with his publicist. I listened to his side, as the agent seemed to raise objection after objection and Damien stood firm.

  When we pulled into the driveway, he admired the house and yard. Inside, I gave him a quick tour of the main floor, then led him upstairs. “The second floor is me and my sisters, and Mom and Dad’s bedroom and offices are on the third floor.” Merilee’s bedroom door was closed. If she was following the schedule we’d worked out, she’d be inside writing a paper.

  I led him into my room to dump his luggage and he gazed around curiously. “Stuffed animals, huh? Cute.” Then he grinned and picked one up. “Hey, you even have a koala.”

  We both gathered our work and headed out to the patio. He called last night’s reporter and gave him a quick phone interview, then settled in a lounge chair proofreading his next book. He looked comfortable and at home in khaki shorts and a golf shirt. Having neglected the student exams for too long, I piled the stack of booklets on the metal patio table and began marking.

  After perhaps an hour, Damien rose, stretched, and came over to stand behind me and plant a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ve finished the galleys.”

  “Congratulations.” I tipped my head back and this time the kiss landed on my lips. Soft, lingering.

  “Enough of that,” he said with a grin, “or I’ll want to drag you up to your room.”

  The sound of throat-clearing made us both jerk upright. “Mom!” I leaped to my feet. “This is Damien. And Damien, this is my mother, Rebecca Fallon.”

  “Ms. Fallon.” Damien stepped forward to offer his hand. “Thanks so much for inviting me over.”

  She shook firmly but didn’t smile. “Believe me, we want to get to know you. And find out what’s going on with this crazy engagement business.”

  “We’ve sorted it out,” I hurried to assure her.

  “Good.” Still no smile. “When your father gets home, you can tell us all about it.” She glanced at her watch. “I must run up and get changed. Theresa, there are steaks and veggies in the kitchen. Can you get things going for dinner?” A frown creased her forehead. “Your dad was supposed to get the steaks marinating. Do you know what he puts in that secret marinade you love so much?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m a fair hand with the barbie,” Damien said. “If you trust an Aussie to put something together?”

  Mom kinked up an eyebrow and studied him. “Trust needs to be earned. Let’s see how you do.”

  When she’d gone upstairs, Damien said, “So, the barbie’s the first test. If I pass, then she might trust me with you?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether she does. I’m an adult.”

  “Loosen up, Prof, I’m kidding.”

  “You may be. My mother isn’t.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Then lead me to the kitchen and let’s get going.”

  I took him there, showed him the basic layout, and helped locate ingredients for his marinade.

  “Want to barbecue potatoes and onions, too?” he asked.

  “You mean potatoes wrapped in foil?”

  “No. You cut them in thick slices, boil them a few minutes, then toss them and some thickly sliced onions into the same marinade as for the steak. Then grill them.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll make a salad and lay out cheese and crackers for appetizers.”

  We were working companionably when Matt came through the open kitchen door. “Hey, Theresa. Uh, Damien.”

  I’d never actually introduced them, but Damien was already saying, “G’day, Matt.”

  I gave Matt a quick hug. “Merilee’s in her room, working.”

  He’d just gone to join her when Dad came in, looking frazzled. “Damn, I was supposed to get the steaks marinating.”

  “It’s under control,” Damien said, pointing to the deep bowl that housed the steaks and whatever special mixture he’d concocted. “’Fraid you’re in for an Aussie barbie tonight, Dr. Fallon. Hope I’m not stepping on any toes.”

  Dad narrowed his eyes. “I’m not territorial about the barbecue. But I warn you, I’m protective of my daughters.”

  “I appreciate that,” Damien said, voice firm, gaze level. “And I’ll tell you, I have no intention of doing anything to hurt Theresa.”

  “She’s told you about Jeffrey?”

  “Yes. Nothing like that’s going to happen this time.”

  “See that it doesn’t.”

  The two men’s eyes locked for a long moment, then Dad’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Have you worked out what to do about the tabloids?”

  “We discussed it and agreed,” I told him. “Mom wants to hear about it when we’re all together.”

  “Where is she?” Dad glanced around.

  “She went upstairs to change, but that was over half an hour ago, so she probably got onto e-mail or made a phone call. Matt just got here and he’s up with Merilee.”

  “I’ll go round them up.”

  When he’d gone, I said, “Sorry,” to Damien.

  “Nothing to apologize for. They don’t want to see you get hurt. Nor do I.”

  A few minutes later, we were all assembled in the kitchen.

  “Theresa, there’s e-mail from Jenna,” Merilee said. “She sold her surf board and she’s taking a couple jobs with good tips, putting together gas money so she can drive home.”

  “In that rattletrap MGB?” Dad frowned.

  “It got her to California,” Mom said. “One hopes it will get her home. In the meantime,” she turned and fixed her steady gaze on me, “let’s talk about this tabloid issue.”

  “Damien’s agent and publicist wanted to handle it one way,” I said, “but he and I talked and we decided we don’t care about spin, and even if it might do both of our careers a tiny bit of harm, we want to tell the truth.”

  Mom and Dad did their silent communication thing, then Dad said, a touch grudgingly, “It’s hard to argue with the truth.”

  “And what, exactly, is the truth?” Mom asked.

  When I opened my mouth to answer, she said, “No. I want to hear this from Damien.”

  He put his arm around my shoulder and I wrapped mine around his waist. “That Tezzie and I care about each other and we’re in a committed relationship.”

  “Committed?” The word burst out of me. Neither of us had used it before.

  His body tensed then he dropped his arm and stood in front of me. Gently he cupped my face in both hands. “Isn’t that what we’ve been talking about?”

  “Y-yes.” Joy flooded through me. Not that I hadn’t believed he was serious before, but…“Isn’t commitment a word men shy away from?”

  He gave a soft laugh. “Too right. But then I met you.”

  “How can you be committed to someone you’ve just met?” Merilee asked. She probably meant to sound cynical, but instead the question came out almost plaintive.

  Happiness bubbling in my veins, I turned to her. “I can’t believe you’re asking that. Isn’t that exactly what happened with you and Matt?”

  “Oh!” Her lips rounded around the word and her face brightened. “Of course it is.” She gave him a big hug.

  “It’s just that you met as kids, and we met as adults.”

  “I see what you mean.” A smile flashed.
“Okay, I get it. And I’m happy for you, Theresa, I really am.” She gave an exaggerated pout. “Even if you are stealing my thunder.”

  Selfishly, I wanted my moment in the sun, with my newfound confidence and sexy lover, but in the interest of family harmony, I said, “I saw champagne chilling in the fridge. Let’s open it and toast the bride and groom.”

  Dad did the honors with the champagne bottle, and when we all held a chilled flute, I made the toast. “Here’s to M&M. We’ve always known they belonged together, and now it’s about to be official.”

  “Best wishes,” Damien added. “Here’s to a wonderful life together.”

  “It will be,” Merilee said, clicking her glass to Matt’s.

  Then we settled in, over a couple of platters of cheese, crackers, and olives, to a Fallon-style conversation that ranged here, there, everywhere, and back again. At some point, Damien quietly took charge of the barbecue, and before long we were all sampling the delicious result.

  Although my parents hadn’t fully accepted him, he was winning them over. Unlike Jeffrey and many of my male colleagues, he was a good listener. He actually paid attention to what others were saying—whether it was Mom discussing a legal technicality, Dad expounding on his latest research, Merilee musing about whether she wanted a short or long train on her wedding gown, or Matt laying out the details of the Mexican Riviera cruise. Damien asked intelligent questions, too. And I knew he wasn’t simply being polite, he really was interested.

  All too soon, he said, “I’d better run upstairs and change into something more respectable for the signing.” He flashed a quick grin. “Good excuse for getting out of doing dishes, isn’t it?”

  “The cook never has to do the dishes,” Mom said.

  As soon as he’d gone, she turned to me. “I have to say, Theresa, he’s growing on me,” and Dad chimed in with, “I agree.”

  I beamed at them. “Damien has that effect. Now, I’d better get changed, too.”

  He’d left my door ajar and when I went in, I found him bare-chested, wearing the same pants he’d worn in Honolulu, shaking out a short-sleeved cotton shirt. “Hey, Tezzie. What’s the verdict? Did I pass?”

  “You’re growing on them.”

  “Like fungus? Or like a guy who deserves to be with their daughter?” He put down the shirt and came over to tug me into a loose embrace. “Hopefully the latter, because I like them. Your parents are caring people and passionate about what they do, and Merilee and Matt are cute. Hope I get a chance to meet your other two sisters one day.”

  I gazed up at him, thinking how utterly different he was than I’d first assumed. “Damien?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where will you be a week from this coming Saturday?”

  “Don’t remember offhand, but there’s bound to be a signing. Why?” Then he snapped his fingers. “Is that the wedding?”

  I nodded. “I suppose there’s no way it would fit your schedule, but I’d love to have you there as my date.”

  It took him no more than a second to think about it. “I’ll do my damnedest.”

  “But didn’t you say your book tour is hectic?”

  “Bobby’s an expert at scheduling. Maybe we can juggle things.”

  “I don’t want to completely disrupt your plans or make a lot of extra work for your assistant.”

  I must have been frowning, because he smoothed my forehead with his thumb. “Theresa, do you want me to be there?”

  I would only, always, be honest with him. “Yes, I do.”

  “Then I want to be there, too.”

  “That’s wonderful.” For a long moment, we gazed into each other’s eyes. “You know I’m crazy about you?” I said softly.

  “Good. Because I’ve fallen for you, head over heels.”

  “Really?” I still had trouble believing it.

  Tenderly he cupped my face in both hands, staring into my eyes, caressing my skin, pressing a little to feel the bone structure beneath. Like he was testing my feelings, or his own. The expression on his face was so caring, so naked, it brought tears to my eyes.

  “It’s been one wild ride, hasn’t it, Tezzie?” he said softly. “And along the way, you got to me in a way no one else ever has. You challenge me, you turn me on. Sexually, intellectually, emotionally. You make me want…”

  “What do you want?” My voice came out choky with emotion.

  “You.” Gently he stroked his thumbs across my temples into my hair, staring tenderly into my face as if he cherished me. “I want you.”

  “I want you, too.” A tear overflowed and tracked its way toward my curved, trembling lips.

  “Then that’s what we’ll have.”

  As he bent his head to kiss me, I knew I’d never felt so happy and so optimistic about the future.

  APHRODISIA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2009 by Susan Lyons

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Aphrodisia and the A logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-5012-4