by Susan Crosby
The doorbell rang as he stepped out of the shower. His bell never rang unless he was expecting someone, and the last thing he needed was a Girl Scout selling cookies. Cursing, he hastily dried off then pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He yanked open the door and went numb, except for a violent lurch of his heart.
“Dana.”
She looked beautiful. Her hair was down and in a new style that took the senator look off her. She wore big hoop earrings, a bright pink V-neck pullover that showed some cleavage, and formfitting pants that emphasized her long, lean legs.
“May I come in?” she asked, hesitation in her eyes and her voice.
Holding the door handle, he backed away, giving her room to come into the house. She glanced at his luggage on the landing.
“Getting back or leaving?” she asked.
“Home. After a month away.” He watched her study his living room.
“This is nice,” she said, turning back to him. Her smile was forced. “It suits you.”
He finally shut the door and tried to pluck a coherent sentence out of the words tumbling in his head. Damn, she looked good. Rested. It struck him that maybe he had been right to let her go. She had healed—that was visible. Was living again. Did that mean she was over him? That it had been infatuation and dependency?
“Are you hungry?” he asked, not in a hurry for the answers to the important questions, for fear of what the answers would be. “I was just about to put a steak on the grill.”
“Thank you, but no. I won’t take up much of your time.”
Stay forever.
“I have something to say, and it needed to be in person. Could we—” she looked toward the leather sofa “—sit down?”
He gestured for her to lead the way. She perched on the edge of the sofa, setting a shopping bag at her feet.
“You heard that Lilith went public with her past to her fans?” she asked.
“It doesn’t seem to have hurt her.”
“She didn’t file charges against Harley.”
“I heard that, too.” The small talk had to be a stall tactic, Sam decided, because surely she knew he’d kept track of Lilith and Harley.
She blew out a breath. “This is harder than I thought.”
It struck him then why she was there. Why she was nervous. Why she looked different. “You’re pregnant,” he said, his gaze sliding down to her abdomen. He wanted to cover that precious spot with his hand, to kiss her there, to—
She choked. “No. Heavens no. We used protection every time. Why would you think that?”
He shook his head, not giving voice to the fantasy he’d never allowed himself to consider outside his dreams. “I figured it had to be something important to bring you here in person.”
“It is.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs, then reached into the bag and pulled out a bubble-wrapped package. Carefully she set it on his lap. He knew its size and weight. It was Zo-onna. She was giving the mask back to him.
His throat closed. He couldn’t look at her. She didn’t want his gift.
He put it back in the bag, then shoved it at her.
She didn’t take it. “I can’t keep her, Sam. You know I can’t.”
“It was a gift.”
“An expensive gift. One with particular meaning to you.” She touched the back of his hand.
“Arianna told me it’s one of a pair you chose specifically. She said you spent almost everything you had on a serviceman’s salary to buy them.”
He pulled his hand away. “How did she know I gave it to you?”
“Nate saw the mask on my bedroom wall when he got Lilith’s wedding picture out of my sitting room. He told her.”
“They should stay out of my business.”
“They care about you.”
He moved to stand by the barren fireplace. She was too calm. He’d waited too long to realize the depth of his feelings—and to tell her. “I’m not taking back the mask.”
“You have to. I can’t keep it.” She came to stand with him.
“You have to,” he countered, studying her, memorizing her. “It’s important to me. I didn’t have a clean slate with you, so I tried to make one. Your father—” He stopped. He couldn’t tell her about that, not even to make excuses for himself.
“My father ruined the prom. Yes, he told me finally. I’m so embarrassed by what he did to you that night, Sam. He had no right.” Her eyes darkened. “Do you know why he did it?”
“I figured he saw the way I looked at you.” How could he have missed it? He’d been head over heels.
She shook her head. “He told me it was how I looked at you.”
Sam went still. He could hardly believe it. How had he not seen it? “Is that the truth?”
“And nothing but.”
Her father must have seen the way Sam looked at Dana, too. “Well, he loves you. He wanted only the best for you. I wasn’t the best.”
“He was wrong. Look at all the sacrifices you made for me.” She spoke over his attempt to respond. “You took me to the prom, only to have my father blindside you. You saved me from Harley’s attack, only to be beaten up because I was so stupid.”
“You—”
“Let me finish. You attended Mr. G.’s funeral with me, had your photograph in national newspapers, essentially giving up your anonymity, the thing most precious to you—your career. And now you won’t even bill me for the job you and your company did.”
“I slept with you! I’m supposed to bill you after that?” He shoved his hands through his hair. “God, Dana. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“Exactly my point,” she said quietly. “I didn’t—don’t—deserve you. I finally came to understand that. And that’s why I can’t keep Zo-onna.”
He stared at her, dumbfounded. “Are you—” He stopped, tried to sort through her logic. “Are you trying to say you’re not good enough for me?”
“I’m good enough. We’d be good together, but I understand why you can’t forgive me. You made all those sacrifices and I’ve given you nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeated in disbelief. Heat flooded him in the form of memories. “I’ve loved you since I was ten years old and you were the only one to offer me sympathy. Seeing you every day at school was my reason for going when it was the last place I wanted to be. Competing against you in class gave me purpose, kept me studying, made me a better student, then a better person. Taking you to the prom was the best night of my life, even after your dad talked to me.”
He cupped her face and looked into her bright eyes. “Rescuing you from Harley made me feel worthwhile after my father had done his best to make me feel worthless. Helping you find who was threatening you gave me a chance to show you what I’d become.”
“You love me?”
She’d ignored everything but his first words. He kissed her with as much tenderness as he could muster.
“I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I couldn’t believe you loved me that fast. I didn’t trust it.”
“Do you now? Because I’ve been miserable without you, and I can’t keep on waiting and hoping.”
“I trust it. I believe in what we have.” It didn’t matter how it affected his job. He wasn’t giving up Dana for anything or anyone. “You wouldn’t have waited long. I was coming to see you. You always seem to beat me to the punch.”
“I was more desperate than you.”
“It was impossible for you to be more desperate than me.” He gathered her close. “So, did you really come here without knowing whether I was in town?”
“Not exactly. Arianna told me you’d be back today.”
“And did you just successfully use reverse psychology on me by pointing out your weaknesses, knowing I would defend you?”
He felt her smile against his shoulder.
“Once a knight always a knight.”
“Are you going to marry me?”
She squeezed him so tight he almost lost his balance. “Well, w
e can’t live together without marriage. That would set a very bad example.”
“Then it’s settled.”
She angled her head back enough to meet his gaze. “No, it isn’t. That wasn’t a proposal. That was a business discussion.”
Grabbing her hand, he walked her toward his bedroom, scooping up her shopping bag as they went. In the bedroom he unwrapped Zo-onna and hung her next to the other mask. “Heita welcomes her home.”
“The warrior.” She eyed Sam askance. “I’ve been studying.”
“He hasn’t been the same without Zo-onna.” He paused. “I haven’t been the same without you. I love you, Dana, with all my heart. I want to have children with you. I want to make a home, wherever you want.”
“Here would suit me just fine. I’d like to apply to teach at UCLA.”
He was speechless for as long as it took to draw a deep breath and swallow hard. “Will you marry me and be my love forever?”
“I will. Will you argue with me and make up with me and be my love forever?” she asked in return.
“What kind of dumb question is that?”
She frowned. “It’s a perfectly good question. It’s important to me. Critical—”
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He angled his head toward his bed. “Can we make up now?”
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Let’s go to Las Vegas tonight.”
“I don’t think so. You need the fairy-tale wedding.”
Tears coated her eyes. She settled her arms around him more comfortably, and brought her face close to his, her lips close enough to kiss. “How do you know that?”
“Anyone with a bedroom like yours at your parents’ house needs the church and the flowers and the beautiful dress. It’s your last wedding. It needs to be perfect.”
“You won’t mind the spectacle?”
“I’ll see only you.”
A tear spilled down her cheek. He brushed it away.
“Let’s go to bed,” she whispered. “I’ve got an engagement gift for you.”
“Let’s wait until the wedding night.” Her shock made him smile. “I figure you can put together a big, fancy wedding pretty fast if you’re motivated.”
She tipped back her head and laughed. He hadn’t ever heard her sound so joyful.
“Oh, am I going to drive you crazy in the next month,” she said.
“A month?”
“Probably.” She nuzzled his neck.
His whole body reacted.
“Well, hell,” he said, then he did what he’d wanted to do since he’d first seen her at the reunion—swept her into his arms, kissed her and took her to bed. “We can start the countdown tomorrow.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8305-7
PRIVATE INDISCRETIONS
Copyright © 2004 by Susan Bova Crosby
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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