by Pat Warren
The sexy sigh of a saxophone had her melting in his arms, swaying with him to the dark rhythm, her head on his shoulder. Needing to be closer, Jeff stopped to yank his shirt off over his head, several buttons popping as he tossed it aside. Then he pressed her close to his chest. The soft satin of her gown allowed her breasts to yield against him, and he felt his head spin at the contact. He saw Tish close her eyes and felt the candlelight flicker and warm their skin as he moved slowly around the small room. Drugged in pleasure, he drew out the moment.
“You dance very well,” he whispered into her ear. He slid his hands along her spine, then settled at her waist as his lips sampled her neck. She didn’t answer, just made a low sound in her throat and reached up to thrust her hands into his hair.
Deeply aroused, Jeff welcomed the move when Tish’s mouth sought his, when her tongue slipped between his parted lips. She made a muffled sound as his hands bunched into the satin material at her waist, gathering it up higher and higher. In moments, he had most of it clustered up to where he could cup her soft flesh in both hands and press her intimately against the hard evidence of his desire.
His touch was unhurried, a lazy seduction that held her prisoner nonetheless. He felt her press closer to the mouth that caressed her own, enjoying the magic of her body against his. Her hands ran along his bare shoulders and caressed the muscles of his arms, exploring his strength. Dreamily, she let him lead her.
Moonlight turned her skin creamy. He found her impossibly soft, unbearably sweet-tasting as his mouth moved to kiss the tender spot behind her ear. He felt her knees begin to buckle as she shuddered briefly.
Stepping back, Jeff bent to pick her up and carried her up the stairs. Carefully he laid her down on the king-size bed that had been turned down for them. Tish stared up at him as his dark-green eyes devoured her. Seemingly uncomfortable under such close scrutiny, she reached a hand to his belt buckle.
“Can I help you with this?”
He needed a little more time. “In a moment.” He trailed his fingertips along the underside of her satin-covered breasts and saw the peaks harden at his touch. Needing to be flesh to flesh with her, he whipped the gown from her in one quick movement and set it aside, then lowered himself to her. He cupped both breasts in hands that weren’t quite steady, then met her eyes watching him in the gentle light of the candles. “Do you know how many nights I’ve lain awake thinking of you, wanting you like this? Just you and me locked away in a quiet room somewhere, knowing that you’re mine for all time?”
“No, tell me,” she whispered, her voice husky.
His fingers molded her swelling flesh. “Forever, I think.” His head dipped down, his tongue gliding over her breasts until she gasped out loud at sensations he knew were pulling at her.
Expertly, Jeff moved down her, trailing kisses over her still-flat stomach. Then he paused, his big hand caressing her belly, suddenly filled with wonder. Inside there was his child, their child, who would be born of their love. A tiny little life already growing. The miracle of it overwhelmed him as he raised dazed eyes to hers, unable to put what he felt into words.
Tish placed her hand atop his. “I know,” she whispered softly.
He moved up to kiss her, putting his heart in it, surprised and pleased that she knew exactly how he felt. He lingered, then slowly began demanding a response from her that she was finally helpless to withhold. In moments, he took her from dreamy to desperate, his mouth devouring, his fingers seeking. She could no longer lie still beneath him, her fitful body arching as he ran his hands up the inside of her thighs.
Restless needs within Jeff fought for dominance. The need to make her wild, to make her want as much as he did, to make her his in more than a shared name consumed him. Desire was a thunderous sound in his ears, the feel of her skin teasing his senses. He slipped his fingers inside her and felt her arch as she dug her nails into his shoulders.
A rush of heat and she crested quickly, then fought for breath only to find he was driving her up again. Suddenly, a stunned release had her moaning his name. Finally, looking dazed, her eyes opened to find him watching her.
“You’re mine, Tish. Say it,” he said, his voice ragged.
“There’s never been a question,” she answered breathlessly. “I’m yours, Jeff.”
Quickly, he removed the rest of his clothes, then came back to her. As she fought to slow her breathing, he kissed her eyes closed. She was glowing, yet reaching for him again, but he evaded her hands as his mouth moved hungrily to her breasts once more. Restlessly, she shifted beneath him, her hands clutching his shoulders as he wandered lower.
She whispered his name and he felt the sound rocket through him. Her hands on him were no longer timid, no longer patient as they sought to give, to touch, to learn him more thoroughly as he was learning her. Her desire fueled him further, taking him to the swift edge of reason as he returned to crush her mouth with his.
Overwhelmed by her responsiveness, he softened the kiss, shifting to tenderness. He’d known from the start that there was passion in her, kept carefully in check, but he hadn’t dreamed how much. Nor had he thought how deeply it would touch him. She had allowed him to see her vulnerability and he would do no less. Drawing back from her slightly, he let her restive hands find him, then guide him inside her.
He wanted to watch her climb, watch her soar, his own completion suspended by the joy of her response. Her eyes were open and on his, her skin damp with passion, her mouth a breath away from his. There was an aching pleasure on her face as she reached for the stars. And then he gave them to her….
The door to the doctor’s lounge in Metropolitan General Hospital opened and two young men in scrubs walked in, talking in low, serious tones. They glanced at Jeff, then moved to the far corner where they continued their conversation.
Reluctantly, Jeff stood and stretched, hating to let his thoughts of happier times—of their wedding night—drift away. If only the wonder of that night could have stayed with them. But if there was one thing he’d learned a long time ago it was that nothing stays the same.
Grabbing his leather bag, Jeff went into the shower room to clean up. It was empty this early in the morning and he was grateful. He wasn’t very good company right now. He set the bag on the floor and took out his shaving kit. Examining his face in the mirror, Jeff frowned.
The man staring back at him looked exhausted, albeit with good reason. It was hard to remember how many hours ago he’d been in a bed where he could stretch out his long legs and sleep until he woke up. Plugging in his razor, he knew it might be quite some time before that would happen again.
Pausing, he drew a hand over his shadowed cheeks and chin. Maybe he should grow a beard. A beard might disguise that suddenly gaunt look he had since this whole ordeal began. But it wouldn’t erase the dark smudges beneath his eyes or remove the worry from his expression.
He flipped on the razor and began shaving.
When he finished, he quickly undressed and turned on the water in the farthest of two stalls. He started out with the temperature as hot as he could stand, letting the soothing spray ease his cramped muscles. Next he lathered up and vigorously rubbed his skin with the soapy washcloth. Ducking his head under, he shampooed his hair. Finally he rinsed off and gradually turned the water to cool, then cold. Awake for sure now, he stepped out and grabbed a towel off the rack.
A few minutes later, he was dressed in black slacks and a black cotton shirt. Quickly, he brushed his teeth, combed his hair, packed his things in his bag and zipped it closed. Just as he was leaving, a doctor shuffled in, dark circles under his eyes, his scrubs splattered with blood. Jeff nodded to him and left the shower room.
The lounge was once more empty and he debated about pouring himself a cup of coffee from the ever present pot on the corner table. On closer examination, he decided the contents looked like sludge. East should be arriving soon. He’d take him down to the cafeteria and they’d have breakfast. Not that he was especially hungry,
Jeff thought as he walked out into the hall. But he knew he had to keep up his strength.
He headed back to ICU to check on Tish and to wait for East.
An hour later, as Jeff sat beside his wife’s hospital bed quietly talking to her, the door to her cubicle slid open and East stood there, filling the doorway. Jeff stood, blinking back a sudden rush of emotion, and walked over to hug his father. He felt East grip him hard, his big hands patting his back. Jeff held on, absorbing East’s boundless strength for several moments, then finally eased back.
East held him at arm’s length, his dark eyes sweeping over his son’s face, missing nothing, studying intently. “How are you holding up, son?”
Jeff was glad he’d gotten cleaned up. Outwardly he looked a lot better than he had a couple of hours ago. But he knew he wasn’t fooling East. “I’m fine.” He stepped back, moving to Tish’s side, wanting to talk about her, but the words clogged in his throat.
East followed him over, looking down at Tish for a long time. Finally, he squeezed Jeff’s shoulder. “I know how hard it is to wait and worry, Jeff. I—”
The cubicle door sliding open had both men turning around. Dr. Edmund O’Neill stood in the doorway. “Mr. Kirby, I’m Dr. O’Neill. You paged me?”
“Yes, Doctor.” East went over and shook hands as all three of them left the cubicle, closing the door. “Thank you for seeing me. I know how busy you are.” They followed O’Neill to an alcove near the ICU entrance. “What’s my daughter-in-law’s updated prognosis?”
O’Neill thrust both hands into the pockets of his lab coat. “I wish I could give you some very hopeful news, but basically, not much has changed. Comas are difficult to predict. As I told Dr. Kirby here,” he said, drawing Jeff into the conversation, “she could come out of it within the hour or tomorrow or next week. We simply can’t predict.”
“Her injuries are healing?” East asked.
“Yes, absolutely. We have every reason to believe that her body will recover with no permanent damage. The concussion, however, was severe. According to our most recent findings, the swelling of the brain is receding, but slowly. Anything further is impossible to project at this time.”
East’s tall, powerful body seemed to dominate the area as the doctor looked up at him. “And there’s no way to tell if she’ll be able to speak when she wakes up, or what she’ll remember?”
O’Neill shook his head. “I’ve had patients in a coma for weeks suddenly awaken and begin talking as if nothing had happened. Others have had trouble remembering events, especially the one that caused their injury, but were otherwise fine. A few needed speech therapy, but that’s not the norm. If there is a norm in these cases.” He saw the disappointment on their faces and pulled in a frustrated breath. “I understand how you feel and I wish I could be more encouraging. But I wouldn’t want to give you false hope.”
“No, of course not.” East held out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. And thanks for being so good to my son.”
O’Neill glanced at Jeff as he shook hands with East. “Professional courtesy. I told him to stay with her as long as he likes.” He checked his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Certainly. Thanks, again.” East watched the doctor rush off, then turned to his son. “Have you eaten? I’m starved. What do you say we go grab some breakfast?” It was not yet 8:00 a.m., but it had been a long flight from California.
“Right away.” Jeff walked to the circular desk and told Thelma where he was going, that he had his cell phone with him and she could call him if there was the slightest change. She agreed and he went back to his father. “We can go downstairs to the cafeteria or we can leave the hospital and find a place. What time are you meeting with the bomb squad?”
“Not till noon.” East said. “Let’s go out. The cab driver on the way in from the airport told me about an eatery near the hospital called Johnny’s Place. Said it had terrific food.”
“Fine with me,” Jeff answered, moving to the elevators.
Faux red leather booths lined both sides of the storefront restaurant with a half dozen tables down the center and a counter near the back. Broadway caricatures were drawn on the beige walls and the floor was black-and-white checkered-tile squares. The smell of coffee and bacon frying permeated the smoky air as Jeff and East walked in.
A waitress with a limp wearing a pink nylon uniform and a badge that read Elaine pinned to her left shoulder met them at the door and asked if they wanted smoking or nonsmoking. Jeff gazed at the smoke curling all the way up to the ceiling and couldn’t resist asking her where the nonsmoking section was. She pointed to two occupied tables way in the back by the kitchen near the back door, which stood open. Hiding a smile behind his fist, he indicated an empty booth on the left and told her that would do. She marched over in her Minnie Mouse tennis shoes and plopped two plastic-coated menus on the table before hurrying off to answer the ding of a bell at the short-order window.
Sliding in, East smiled. “I’m starved.”
“I bet.” Jeff opened the menu, realizing he was feeling a little hungry. “So, what did the cab driver recommend?”
“The blue plate special, of course.” East scanned the menu and found the item. “No wonder. One English muffin, two eggs, three pancakes, four bacon strips, and the bottomless cup of coffee.” He glanced up. “How’s that sound?”
“Like a breakfast for a lumberjack, but I’m game.”
Elaine carried a groaning tray of food to the next booth, then stopped at theirs. “What’ll it be?”
“Two blue plate specials,” Jeff told her.
“Good choice.” She graced him with a toothy smile and rushed off.
East leaned forward, his elbows on the Formica table. “Did you check into a hotel nearby?”
Jeff shook his head. “Not yet. O’Neill told me I could use the doctor’s lounge to shower and change, which is what I’ve been doing. I catch a catnap in the chair.” He sighed and all the discouragement he felt came huffing out. “See, I thought she’d wake up any minute, that I wouldn’t need a room. I know it’s crazy, but I feel if I just stay there by her side, she’ll hear me talking to her and fight to come back.”
“That’s not crazy. I’m sure she can hear you and that she’s struggling to come back. But until the swelling goes down, she won’t surface.” He placed a hand on Jeff’s as it rested on the table. “But you need to be rested and ready and in good shape when she comes to.”
Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that, each time I leave her, I start to panic. Like what if she needs me and I’m not there?”
East leaned back. “Believe me, I know. When you were kidnapped, I felt the same. I didn’t leave the house, unreasonably afraid I’d miss the call telling me where you were. I even showered with the door open so I could hear the phone. And when I did catch a little sleep, I dreamed of you, of the past.”
“Yeah, it’s like that with me, too. I’ve been thinking back to when Tish and I first met. I talk to her about that time, how I felt then and now. And sometimes I fall asleep next to her bed and I dream about those early days.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I just want this to be over, to have her back with me.”
Elaine brought their coffee, set down a dish of little creamers and scooted off. Across from them, an elderly man was meticulously setting out his pills for the day and swallowing them down with water. Behind Jeff, a young couple were discussing a trip they were about to take, making plans to take the kids to Disney World. In a booth across the room, four tough-looking guys were pouring syrup on mountains of pancakes and laughing loudly.
A normal morning in a typical New York restaurant, Jeff thought as he looked around. Funny how everyday things he usually never noticed suddenly looked so good to him, so normal.
Only there was nothing normal about his life right now. He was in limbo, waiting, waiting.
Noticing his son’s silent restlessness, East spoke. “I hope you haven’t given up hope, Jeff. Sometimes, hope i
s all we have to cling to. I never once thought for a moment that I wouldn’t find you, that I wouldn’t get you back well and whole.” He paused. “You’re not alone when you’re sitting by her bedside, Jeff. Everyone you know, Ally and me, all the people Tish knows, they’re all there, hoping and praying with you.”
Eyes downcast, Jeff nodded. “I know, Dad. I’m trying.”
“The only time we’re truly forced to stand by and watch and wait is when someone we love is in jeopardy. It’s out of our hands and nothing we do can change the outcome. Except we can pray.”
“Oh, I’ve been doing a lot of that,” Jeff said, sitting back. “I’ve reintroduced myself to the Man Upstairs and made every promise possible to Him if only He’ll bring her back to me.”
East nodded, smiling. “Bargaining with God. Yeah, I’m familiar with that.”
Just then, Elaine hurried over and placed a huge platter of food in front of both of them, topped off their coffee and left them alone.
Jeff inhaled the delicious aromas and dug in. Some fifteen minutes later, as he pushed his empty plate aside, he grinned. “I sure didn’t think I’d eat all that, but I did.”
East also had eaten every morsel. “You needed the fuel. It takes a lot of energy to stand by.” He signaled for the check, paid the bill and they left, stepping out into the bright glare of morning sunshine.
A street-cleaner truck came lumbering by, its wet brushes washing the gutters. A city bus wheezed to a stop where half a dozen passengers squeezed aboard. A New York cab wove in and out of traffic in a yellow blur. And a woman pushing twins in a double stroller walked by them, groceries bundled in the rear basket.
The city was hustling and bustling as always. Life went on, Jeff thought as East stepped off the curb to hail a cab, even while someone in intensive care struggled to rejoin the living. His stomach full, he felt better than before. And seeing East, aware of his solid support, had helped enormously.