by Jane Toombs
Amy couldn’t imagine herself agreeing to give up a child to the extent Iris would be giving up Sarah. Not that she planned on having children. Though a single parent could raise a well-adjusted child, children profited by having both a mother and a father raising them. Marriage was the best arrangement for that, but she didn’t have any intention of tying herself to any man and allowing him to control her.
She was pleased for David, though—he really loved his daughter. Amy thought it significant that he’d so quickly used the law to protect Sarah. It persuaded her she’d been right all along. He’d been in denial, refusing to face the fact that being a lawyer was what he really wanted to do, despite what had happened in New Mexico. She opened her mouth to say something of the sort, but he spoke first.
“Your place or mine?”
Her breath caught. Looking at him from under her lashes, she said, “For dinner, you mean?”
“That, too.”
The glow deep in those blue, blue eyes of his speeded her pulse. “Leftovers,” she managed to say.
“Not enough.”
She slanted him a look. “I guess you must be hungry.”
“Understatement of the year. If we don’t get under cover fast, you can’t hold me accountable.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her with him. “Your place is closer.”
By the time they reached the top of the stairs she was breathless, and not from the climb. He hadn’t yet kissed her, but already anticipatory heat pooled low inside her.
As soon as David kicked the door shut behind them, he reached for Amy, holding her away from him for a moment, seeing his own need reflected in her eyes. “We’re never going to make it to the bedroom,” he murmured, pulling her close and slanting his mouth over hers.
He breathed in her arousing floral scent, the taste of her more intoxicating than wine. She returned his kiss with passion, letting him know she wanted more. Like he did. Would he ever have enough of Amy?
Her hair, soft and silken, brushed his cheek, reminding him that her skin under all those clothes was even softer. It seemed forever since they’d lain together flesh to flesh; he couldn’t wait to hold her that way again.
Shedding clothes as they paused en route to the bedroom for just one more kiss, then another and another, they finally reached the bed naked. With more control than he’d known he possessed, he resisted the urge to plunge into her warm, welcoming depths. Sex with Amy was more than scratching an itch, he wanted to savor every second along the way. Actually, sex wasn’t the right word. Lovemaking?
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear as he caressed her breasts before nibbling at them. And she was, every part of her.
“So are you,” she murmured, holding him close.
No one had ever called him beautiful before. He didn’t believe he was, but it touched his heart that she thought so. A feeling of tenderness swept through him, different from the heat of desire rising with every pulse beat. He needed Amy in a way he’d never needed any other woman.
Her gasping moans, her pleas of “Now, now,” drove him wild until he lost control and joined with her, everything a blur except sensation. Even in his daze of passion, though, he knew she was with him all the way to the top and over. Afterward he was reluctant to let her go. Only the possibility that Sarah might return kept him from beginning all over again. Once was far from enough.
“You’re addictive,” he murmured.
“I was just thinking the same thing about you.”
“Who was it advised moderation in all things?”
“Some holy man, maybe.”
He nodded. “Easy for them to say when they weren’t holding the sexiest woman in the world in their arms.”
Her smile was lazy, satisfied. Because of him. Because of the fire that blazed out of control when they touched each other. He wanted to tell her—what? He couldn’t find words that expressed what he meant. He wasn’t even sure he knew what it was. He finally said, “That was no rewarmed leftover. I’d call it prime gourmet.”
“Still hungry?”
He bent to kiss her, murmuring, “What do you think?”
She responded with interest, but after several moments pulled away. “When is Sarah due back?”
He sighed. “I figure it’s time to shift base to my apartment.” As they collected their strewn clothes, he asked, “Back to leftovers. What kind?”
“We’re talking food now, right? Some deli roast beef, a few slices of cheese, baby carrots, maybe a tomato. Yogurt.”
“Combined with my half loaf of rye, some aging lettuce, grapes and Popsicles, we have the makings of a gourmet feast.”
“You like Popsicles?”
“Never got over them.”
“Me, neither. You go ahead. I’ll bring my stuff to your place in a bit.”
Amy watched David leave, admiring the easy way he moved, basking in the intimate smile he gave her on the way out. She shook her head. If she didn’t watch herself, she was apt to turn into a David groupie and that would never do.
You are an independent woman, she told herself firmly. Never lose sight of that. Otherwise it’ll be all too easy to find yourself being controlled by a man once again.
She grimaced. As a psychologist, she understood she was stereotyping all men as controlling—which was wrong. But as a woman, she found it difficult not to. Physician, heal thyself? Not that easy.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy making love with David, she just had to remember it was only chemistry. Except only was too wimpy a word to describe what happened between them when he kissed her.
And imagine that—a man who not only liked Popsicles, but admitted he did. Who’d have thought it? Her favorite flavor was grape. She wondered what his might be. Before she knew it she’d slipped into a reverie about sharing a grape Popsicle with him while they made love. With an effort she snapped back into reality and headed for the refrigerator to gather her leftovers.
Saturday Amy headed over to Gert’s early to help her get ready for Sarah’s birthday party. Betty’s mother, Cary, had offered to pitch in, too, but then had called to say she was ill and couldn’t. She’d sounded so bad that Amy stopped by to see her on the way.
“I’ll be okay,” a pale and shaky Cary told her. “It’s just my darn gallbladder acting up again. I hope I won’t need surgery. Especially since—” She broke off, then added, “I suppose it’s never a good time to have surgery, is it?”
“I’ll pick up Betty for Sarah’s party and bring her back,” Amy said. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Cary sighed. “Thanks. I’ll manage.”
As she drove away, Amy hoped Cary was right about being able to manage. Perhaps when she picked up Betty she’d ask if the girl could spend the night with Sarah. At her place, since she was sure David had no idea how much little girls could giggle at a slumber party.
Gert thought it was a good idea. “It’ll be an extra present for Sarah, plus helping out Betty’s mother. Weren’t you and David planning to take Sarah on Sunday to see the moving stones at the Carson Sink? You might want to take in the Fallon Air Show as well. Betty could go, too.”
“I’ll mention that to Cary.”
The party, with two other girls from the violin class besides Betty, was a smashing success. “The best one I ever had,” Sarah told Amy and David later on the front porch. “Mostly Mommy took me out for lunch on my birthday and then we went shopping. This was more fun.”
David winced inwardly, aware he hadn’t paid much attention to Sarah’s birthdays for the past few years other than buying her a present. “I hear the fun’s not over yet,” he said. “You and Betty and Amy are having a slumber party.”
“I’m sorry you can’t come, Daddy, but boys aren’t allowed.” Sarah turned to Betty. “Come on, we’ll go in and ask Great-aunt Gert if I can show you that ballerina music box I told you about.”
As the two little girls disappeared inside, David and Amy looked at each other, shaking their heads.
Remembering how upset Sarah had been when she first saw the music box, he said, “She’s changed a lot—all good. Thanks to you.”
“I just gave advice—you took it. That’s what’s made the change.”
“Not all of it. We—” He paused. Had he been about to say the three of them were like a family? Some truth to that, but better left unsaid.
Amy raised an eyebrow when he didn’t continue, finally shrugging. “Gert mentioned the air show at Fallon tomorrow. Are you up for it?” she asked.
He leaned close and murmured, “Want to guess what I’d rather be up for?”
To his delight, Amy blushed.
“Good grief, you’d think I was sixteen,” she muttered.
He leaned closer still, his lips brushing hers, when he heard a truck pull into the drive. Damn.
The truck stopped. “Don’t let me disturb you,” Grandfather said as he climbed down from the pickup.
“There you are.” Gert’s voice came from the vestibule leading to the porch. She pushed open the screen and waved at Grandfather. “Care for some limeade before we go?”
He nodded as he climbed the stairs, and she waved him to a seat. “Sarah’s party over?” he asked, holding up a hide bag drawn together with a thong. “I brought her a talisman.”
“I’ll tell her you’re here,” Gert said, and went in.
Grandfather looked from Amy to David and back, his dark eyes gleaming. “Hawks mate for life.”
Jolted, David involuntarily glanced at Amy. She looked as surprised as he felt.
“Just so you know,” Grandfather added with a grin.
Before either of them recovered enough to say anything, Sarah burst through the screen door, Betty behind her. “Hi, Grandfather,” Sarah said. “This is my friend Betty.”
“Friends are good to have,” he said, motioning Sarah closer. “I brought you something for your seventh birthday.”
He reached into the drawstring bag and lifted out a small carving made of a glossy brown wood. “Shane carved it for me and I carried it here in my medicine bag to give it power.”
“What kind of power?” Sarah asked.
“Good medicine.” He placed the carving in her hand.
Sarah gazed at it intently for long moments. Finally she smiled. “I think I can sort of feel the good medicine.” She bent and kissed the old man on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Betty, looking at the carving, murmured, “Awesome.”
“See, Daddy,” Sarah said, crossing to him.
He studied the intricate carving. Two hawks, each feather carefully delineated, perched on the limb of a tree, one with wings outspread as though just landing, the other with closed wings.
Amy leaned toward him to peer at the hawks.
“Together,” Grandfather said. “I dream true.”
A silence fell. From somewhere in the distance, David heard the faint cry of a hunting hawk. He searched the sky but didn’t see the bird. Probably his imagination. Grandfather had a way of unsettling people.
Gert came out onto the porch with the limeade pitcher and glasses and the moment dissipated.
“Look what Grandfather gave me,” Sarah said to Gert. “Sage’s father made it.”
“Beautiful work,” Gert told her. “A wonderful talisman. That word means it brings good fortune, Sarah.”
“Like good luck?” Betty asked.
“Exactly.”
Betty sighed. “I wish—” She broke off, lowering her head, but not before David saw guilt shadow her face.
Amy put an arm around Betty’s shoulders, murmuring, “We all wish for good luck.”
Her response to Betty warmed him. Sure, she was a psychologist, but he knew her well enough by now to understand it was Amy consoling the girl, not Dr. Simon.
“If no one else wants limeade,” Gert said, “I’m going to put away the pitcher and get ready to go to Walker Lake.”
Sarah smiled at her. “Have fun,” she said.
Gert nodded. “Fun is a good thing to look forward to. We all need to remember that.”
Sarah had said the same thing to him when he and Amy went sailing the previous Saturday. He smiled, remembering. He and Frivolous Amy did have fun—and one hell of a lot more.
Unfortunately, he didn’t see any way to get Amy alone tonight, what with the slumber party going on. Sunday Betty would still be with them, at least until they returned from Fallon and dropped her off at home. Even then, there was no one to leave Sarah with since who knew when Gert would get back.
He loved his daughter and wouldn’t give her up for the world, but he had to admit carrying on an affair was a damn sight easier for an unencumbered man.
Inspiration struck. There wouldn’t be time for more than holding and kissing Amy, but something was better than nothing. He hurried after Gert, who had gone into the house.
“Okay if Amy and I look for something in the attic before you leave?” he asked her.
Gert smiled slightly. “Go ahead. You’ve got maybe ten minutes.” The trouble with having a shrink for a relative was that she always saw through your cover story, he thought as he went to collect Amy.
As they climbed the attic stairs, she asked, “What is it we’re looking for?”
“I’ll know it when I see it,” he assured her.
“That’s not a lot of help.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the truth.” He waited until she reached the top, then pulled her into his arms. “Found it already,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her.
“You’re so bad,” she whispered against his lips as they covered hers.
Instant fire ran through his veins when she opened to him, her hands caressing his nape, her softness pressing close against him. Every time he touched her, she responded, her eagerness inflaming him, because it meant her desire matched his. He tried to control the wild flare of need consuming him. Ten minutes? Not time enough to make love with her the way he wanted to. Ten hours, maybe. Ten days. Ten years?
Ten years? The words roiled in his mind. A long time. Long enough? How could he tell when all he knew right now was that he’d have one hell of a time doing without Amy.
She felt so right against him, as though no other woman would ever fit quite so well.
He explored the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat rapidly against his lips, matching the racing of his own heart.
“We can’t,” she whispered. “Not here.”
He knew she was right, but he couldn’t let her go, not yet. Not ever, the way he felt at the moment. Cupping her bottom, he raised her up and rocked her against his arousal, catching her gasp of need in his mouth as he kissed her again, hard and deep and long.
Stop, he warned himself, or you’ll go over the edge and take her on this damn, dusty attic floor.
When he finally made himself release her, she stepped sideways, bracing herself against the wall. He watched her catch her breath, then look at him with those sea-green eyes of hers. “Like Emerald Bay,” he rasped.
“Not quite.” Her voice wasn’t completely steady.
“Your eyes, I mean.”
“I’ve never put a name to the color of yours. Cerulean, like the sky? Or maybe indigo blue? Or something in between that’s unique. Matchless.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Heavens, I’m babbling.”
He cleared his throat to rid himself of the passion-induced hoarseness. “I rather like being matchless.”
“I was only referring to your eyes.”
The tartness in her voice amused him, taking him back to their first meeting. Though she’d annoyed him, he’d liked her even then.
“You brought me up here to seduce me,” she accused.
“Spot on.” He grinned at her. “I’ll have to confess to Gert that I didn’t quite locate what I was looking for in the attic.”
“Don’t you dare.” She glanced around at the attic clutter. “We’ll find something.”
He didn’t tell her Gert knew perfectly well why he’d hauled Amy up here.
&nb
sp; “Look,” she said. “Over there.” She gestured toward an old bureau. Atop it sat a large orange pumpkin.
He nodded. Sarah would love it. He bulldozed his way among boxes and old furniture to reach the bureau. The pumpkin, he saw, wasn’t plastic, as he’d expected, but ceramic, with a lid. He lifted the lid and peered inside. “Marbles,” he said. “It’s half full of marbles. I haven’t seen any since I stayed with Grandpa. He taught me how to shoot marbles. Just wait until I show Sarah how to play.”
“My brother taught me,” Amy said. “I used to be pretty good.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Why not?”
“I accept. Winner gets to finish what we started up here.”
She made a face at him but didn’t disagree.
He carried the pumpkin down to the porch where Gert told him it came with the house. “Like most of that attic clutter. So you’re welcome to it, marbles and all.”
A very good day, all things considered, he thought as he drove home with his find. The girls had elected to go with Amy, so he was alone. Could have been better in one way. Still, as Amy had insisted on the boat, anticipation made the heart grow fonder. Or something of the sort.
Fondness wasn’t quite the right word for how he felt about her. Nor affection. And, though he did like her, there was more to it. The word love hovered on the brink of his thoughts, but he shook his head. He loved his daughter, yes. Parent love. And his sister Diane. Family love.
He sincerely doubted that he’d ever loved Iris. Lusted for her at one time, yes. And look at the trouble that had gotten him into. She obviously had never really loved him, either. She’d thought he represented security and eventual wealth, but discovered she could bypass the eventual by attracting a man who already had the money she craved, plus the time to help her spend it.
Amy wasn’t like that. He smiled, thinking the word for her was one she’d used about his eyes. Whether they were matchless or not, she certainly was. Love, though, was pushing the envelope.
Chapter Twelve