by Jill Shalvis
"Mind if I ask why?"
"It's obvious neither of us were meant for marriage."
"I don't believe that," he said softly. "And I don't believe you believe it. Don't chicken out here, Amber. Don't hide, not from me. Tell me the truth. I deserve that much."
"You know the truth. I'm not marriage material, and you … you like women too much to give it all up just because we have a baby."
"First of all, I stopped looking at other women the moment you came into my life."
"Which time?"
"Both," he told her grimly.
"I understand getting married is a logical solution to the unexpected unit we've become." She hugged herself. "We have a baby. We both love her with all our hearts. We're willing to share her, but the truth is, neither of us really want to be separated from her. Getting married would solve that."
"Yes," he agreed, sliding closer. "It would also solve another, deeper problem."
"Which is?"
"I want you."
"You—" She closed her eyes. "You just had me recently. A few times as a matter of fact."
The memory, as well as her tone, made him smile. "I want more than sex," he clarified. Because the admission was a new one for him, and scary, his humor vanished. "I've never said this before about anyone else, but sex with you isn't enough. I want to spend nights together. I want to be together. I know we started out in a whirlwind, that we've done everything backward, but let's fix it."
"Marriage won't do that, Dax."
"Why are you so resistant?"
"Because … because, dammit, it's not enough for me!" She blushed and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know this sounds stupid, but to me a marriage should be about … about love. I've never thought of myself in those terms, but deep in my heart, if I'm going to do it, that's what I want."
"Love."
"That's right."
"Well that's convenient, since I happen to be madly in love with you."
"What?" She flew to her feet and stared at him as if she'd just discovered he was an alien. "What did you just say?"
He stood, too, and when she would have turned away, he took her shoulders in his hands. She trembled. That made two of them. "I think you heard me just fine."
"I've … I've never heard those words before." Her voice was a mere whisper. She licked her lips. "I'd like to hear them again."
His heart threatened to burst out of his chest. "I love you."
"You can't."
"Why not? You're perfectly lovable."
Her mouth was open, her eyes wild. Her hand went to her chest. "Oh God. Now I can't breathe."
"Good. Neither can I." He resisted the urge to laugh because he wasn't kidding. He really couldn't breathe. "I've never said those words to a woman before, Amber."
They stared at each other.
"You're mistaken," she decided tremulously. "You have to be."
"No."
"You have no idea. I don't let people in, I'm not—"
"Amber." It was so easy, so right to touch her, he thought, as his thumb gently stroked her jaw. His fingers slipped into her hair. "I've loved you from that very first day."
"But I don't know how to love you back."
"You could practice."
Moisture gathered in her beautiful eyes and she shook her head back and forth.
"Practice with me, Amber," he whispered, his heart raw.
Her eyes were huge. "I'm not ready. I need time."
"How much?"
"I don't know!"
Because she was still shaking, he gathered her stiff body close. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his chest, but her hands snaked around his neck and for a moment, she clung.
He stroked her back and tamped down any regrets. "Don't worry. It so happens, time is in plentiful supply."
And strange as it seemed, given she'd turned him down yet again, Dax felt an inkling of hope for their future.
* * *
Chapter 12
« ^ »
That night, Dax lay in his bed staring at the ceiling wondering how long it would take for sleep to claim him when the phone rang.
Given how his heart picked up speed, he knew who it would be. "Hello?"
"Did you mean it?"
Amber. Unsure and unhappy. "I meant every one of those three little words," he assured her grimly.
"Another promise?"
"Another promise."
There was a long silence, and he knew she was very busy thinking.
"Have I broken one to you yet, Amber?"
"No," she said slowly, but she sounded slightly reassured. "I have to go."
His heart twisted, a feeling he was beginning to associate with her. "Good night, Amber," he whispered.
* * *
Dax found Amber at what he now knew to be her favorite lunch spot. He grinned at her bowl of strawberry yogurt. "Are you going to let me watch you eat that?"
She stopped licking her spoon and eyed him over the bowl with an interesting mix of pleasure and wariness. The wariness he expected because it had been four days since he'd sought her out.
The pleasure was a nice surprise.
"No," she finally said.
Ignoring that, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was crazy about him, he swiveled a chair around and straddled it. Leaning forward, he took in her cool, sedate, navy blue suit. "I don't suppose I can convince you to spill again so that you could lose the uptight clothes."
Surprising him, she laughed. "Actually, I thought of you this morning when I put this on."
"Yeah?" For some reason, that gave him ridiculous pleasure. So did the thought of her standing, fresh out of a shower, naked, thinking of him.
Her voice was low. "I thought of it as my armor."
"Against?"
She played with the yogurt now. "Sometimes you give me a certain look and it makes me feel … funny."
He gave her one of those looks now and the air sizzled between them.
"That's the one," she said a bit shakily, pointing at him with her spoon. "That's it right there."
"Do you feel funny now?"
"A little, yeah."
"Me, too." He heard the rough arousal in his voice and couldn't stop himself. "And it has nothing to do with the clothes you wear." He leaned close. "You could put on real armor and it wouldn't matter one damn bit."
Her eyes closed briefly, and he knew he didn't mistake that quick flash of helpless desire on her face before she carefully masked it and rose. "I have work."
He touched her arm, stilled her. "You can believe in me, Amber. Believe in yourself enough to see it."
"I'm trying, Dax. Whatever you think of me, I want you to know that."
He rose, too, and skimmed his fingers over her cheek. "I know you've had no one to trust with yourself before, but I promise you, I'm different." And then, because they were in the crowded café, and because neither of them were quite steady, he stepped back. "Think about it."
* * *
Amber wanted to do nothing but think about it. As she entered her office, her mind whirled. She moved toward her desk and the mountain of work waiting for her.
Halfway there, the earth rumbled beneath her feet. For a second she allowed herself to believe it was her overly active imagination.
It wasn't. The earthquake was short and quick, and absolutely terrifying.
There had been many this year, and she remembered each and every one of them because they'd brought on a heart-stopping panic she couldn't control. A normal reaction for someone who'd been through what she had, she assured herself, gripping her desk, prepared to dive under it if necessary.
"It's okay," she said out loud as she waited, tense and frozen. "Just an aftershock." She knew they could occur for years after a main quake. The knowledge didn't help. Many people in the area had been terrorized by the aftershocks, not just her. It was normal.
Normal.
She told herself all of this, repeatedly, but she still forgot to breathe and her chest hurt.
Her vision spotted.
And though it was over long before she even fully registered it, she remained there, rigid, heart drumming, palms damp, shaking like a leaf.
The door to her office opened and shut, and suddenly Dax was standing there, saying her name in that deep, wonderful voice.
"I came the second I felt it," he said. "I was still on the street. I thought—I didn't know how you would feel— Dammit, I hate those things!" he exclaimed, taking her arms in his strong, reassuring hands. "Are you all right?"
"Certainly." But she clung to his big, welcoming body. Just for a moment, she told herself. She'd allow herself to lean on him for just a moment. "I'm fine."
"Don't." With a gentleness that was so tender, so sweet it hurt, he curled a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Don't fake being strong for me."
"It was just an aftershock. Hardly even big enough to register on the scale."
"It registered on my scale," came his gruff reply, and for the first time she heard his breathlessness, felt the quiver in his own muscles, and realized he felt the fear, too.
She gave herself permission to hold him for another moment.
"It's okay," he whispered, gathering her tighter, absorbing her weight with ease. "We're okay."
"Taylor," she said, lifting her head. Urgency overcame her. "I want to call—"
"We will. Soon as I can remember my mother's phone number. We'll go get her together, okay? Amber, just hold onto me for a second."
We'll go get her.
We'll.
Together.
For some reason, the words softened her as nothing else could have and she let out a lungful of air, burying her face in the wonderful spot of his neck that seemed meant for her. "Don't be afraid," she told him. "I have a big, tough desk. It'll hold."
He laughed, as she had meant for him to, and somehow that softened her even more so that her arms wrapped even tighter around him.
"We're both shaking like leaves," he muttered, sinking with her to the floor. "I really hate earthquakes."
"Just for the record here," she wondered. "Who's comforting who?"
"I'm not sure, just don't let go."
She didn't. They sat huddled on the floor in each other's arms like two little children. Her legs were entwined with his, her skirt high on her thighs. His hands were on her back, slowly running up and down in a reassuring gesture that hadn't been anything but sincerely comforting, until his hands slipped beneath her jacket to the silk of her blouse.
The embrace shifted, became charged with erotic awareness, and Amber lifted her head to stare at him, into his warm eyes, then at his mouth, the one she suddenly wanted on hers. The shattering, shocking truth was, she wanted that more than she wanted her own next breath.
Dax groaned and closed his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, it's dangerous to my health."
For the life of her, she couldn't remember why she'd wanted to hold him at arm's length, couldn't remember why she was trying so hard to resist this magnetic pull she felt whenever she was with him.
Hell, she was starting to have that pull even when she wasn't with him.
Her arms were already around his neck, it took little movement to have her fingers fisted in his hair so that she could tug him closer, then closer still so that their mouths were a fraction of an inch apart.
"Amber." The sound of her name on his lips, spoken in that husky voice, made her heart tip on its side.
She closed the distance between them, let her eyes drift closed. Her lips parted and she felt his warm breath mingle with hers.
Her office door opened.
"Oh, excuse me," came Nancy's shocked voice.
Professionalism kept her from gawking, though Amber was certain she wanted to. After all, how often did she see her boss sprawled on the floor in a man's arms?
"I'm sorry," Nancy murmured.
Amber groaned when the door shut. She pushed away from Dax.
He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm betting from the look on your face that what just happened is worse than the aftershock."
"I've worked hard to make sure everyone here respects me and the work I do. And in a matter of seconds, I've just ruined that image."
"Well that's pure bull."
Amber stared at him. "That's easy for you to say. You're a man, working in a man's world. You're not judged by your appearance, or who you sleep with."
"Neither are you."
"It's different here. It's highly competitive. One nasty rumor and I could be ruined."
"I see. And being caught in my arms equals a nasty rumor. Flattering."
She winced at his unusually chilly voice. "I didn't mean to insult you."
"That's the hard part, because I know it."
* * *
That night when Dax brought Taylor home to Amber, he made no attempt to draw her into conversation. He didn't even come in, but stood at the doorway, silently and solemnly holding Taylor close for a long moment. Arms tight around the chubby little baby, he closed his eyes and hugged her tight.
Then he lifted her high, smiled at her squeal of delight and kissed her goodbye. "I love you, baby," he whispered, and his smile was a heart-wrenching mixture of sweetness and sorrow.
All that emotion both shocked and humbled Amber to her toes. "Do you want to come in?"
He shook his head, and as if to prove his point, remained on the step as she took the diaper bag from him. He was careful not to touch her. Though she had no right to feel that way, it hurt.
She knew he was going to work. She'd seen the news. There was a fire raging in a downtown apartment building. It was filled with hundreds of trapped, terrified people, and though he rarely fought the actual fires these days, he would be on the scene. His job required it.
But she knew his distant attitude had nothing to do with that fire and everything to do with her. "Be careful tonight."
"Always." With one last, loving touch to Taylor's chubby cheek, he turned away.
"Dax."
Slowly he turned, but she didn't know what to say, how to reach him. How to make him understand.
How could she, when she didn't understand herself? "Nothing," she whispered, and then he was gone.
* * *
Amber did her best to keep her mind occupied for the rest of the long evening. She bathed Taylor, then read her stories, even though the baby was far more interested in chewing on the pages than listening to the words.
She even tried to do some of her own work. Nothing satisfied her and her mind drifted.
To Dax.
Desperate to distract herself, she flipped on the television, then stood riveted in horror. The downtown fire was live on all the local channels.
The flames weren't contained. Even worse, there were still people trapped on the higher levels. The city had put out the desperate call for help to neighboring counties, and though that help was on the way, for many it would be too late.
She knew Dax would never stand on the sidelines. He'd be there, in the thick of that heat, fighting for those people's lives.
Glued to the screen, she lost track of time, chewing on her nails as she hadn't done since she was a child. When the roof of the building collapsed, she leaped to her feet, then kneeled before the television, her heart in her throat.
Three firefighters were reported missing. She waited and waited, but they didn't give any more information, not the identities of the men or their conditions, not even after the fire was contained and then, eventually, extinguished.
No longer able to stand the not knowing, Amber turned to the phone, just as it rang.
"Honey, it's Emily McCall."
"Oh, thank goodness. Do you think you could watch Taylor for me? I have to go down."
"Oh, Amber, listen—"
"I have to go, I have to know—"
"I know, I know. But he's okay. He's not hurt. That's why I'm calling."
The relief was so overwhelming, Amber couldn't breathe. "You're sure?"
"Thomas drove
down there when this mess first started, he just called me."
Dax was okay.
Amber's limbs started to shake in reaction and she collapsed onto the couch.
Emily's voice was thick with tears. "I worry about him so much. I can hear in your voice you worried, too."
"Yes. He— We— I…" She blew out a breath and tried again. "It was awful, the not knowing. I tried to imagine… Taylor needs him."
"Of course she does. What about her mother?"
"I need him, too," she said, meaning every word. "So much."
"He's my life," Emily said simply. "And so is your daughter. I'm so thankful we're all together."
The guilt that stabbed at Amber wasn't new. She felt as though she had stolen Taylor's first three months from Dax and his family and now, only a few short weeks later, couldn't imagine how she had done it.
Or why.
Her reasons for wanting to be alone hadn't made sense for hours now.
"Why don't you bring me that sweet little baby?" Emily suggested. "Then you can decide what to do."
"About what?"
Emily's voice was hushed, as if she kept a huge secret. "Well, I shouldn't say anything." This spoken in the hopeful tone of someone who wanted to be pressed.
"Please."
"Well, you know I pride myself on letting my children lead their own lives. I don't mean to be nosy."
If she hadn't been in such shock, Amber might have laughed. It was common knowledge among Dax's family exactly how wonderfully, purposely nosy Emily could be.
"But as long as you're asking," she said slyly. "I was hoping maybe you had something to tell me. That maybe you and Dax were going to … oh, I don't know. Get married?"
Oh Lord. "Mrs. McCall—"
"Oh, no, you don't," Emily interrupted with a laugh. "Let's not go backward here. You called me Emily at the party."
"Okay. Emily—"
"Or you could just go ahead and get used to calling me Mom."
Amber's emotions were in such a tailspin, she had no control left with which to handle this situation. "I'm sorry," she managed. "But as far as wedding bells, I don't have anything to tell."
"He hasn't asked you to marry him?" Emily's disappointment sang through the line. "That boy! I taught him better than that—"
"No, no, it's not…" How to explain that she had screwed everything up? That there was every chance Dax no longer wanted her? "It's not his fault."