Heart of the Raven

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Heart of the Raven Page 9

by Susan Crosby


  “How’s he been sleeping? Any pattern emerging?” Cassie asked.

  “He likes Letterman,” Heath said.

  “Yeah? Me, too. I’ll take that shift. Otherwise, what does he do?”

  “He’s been taking a bottle every three hours, pretty regularly. As for sleep—you never know. The last couple of days he’s had a crying jag between four and seven in the evening.” He glanced at his watch. A half hour to go. “Nothing seems to help. Even Mom couldn’t get him to stop.”

  “Do you put him in his crib and let him cry or do you hold him?”

  “Both. It’s all guesswork, still. Are we having steak for dinner?”

  She nodded. “And salad and baked potatoes.”

  “Thank you for coming back.”

  “You were that desperate for steak?”

  He didn’t know what to make of the distance she was keeping, physically and with her choice of words. For her to joke after he thanked her—well, it wasn’t like her.

  She shifted Danny into a new position, so that his head was tucked between her shoulder and neck. He looked so tiny that way, curled into her.

  “Why are you avoiding looking at me?” he asked.

  She closed her eyes briefly, then got up from the bar stool and walked to a window. The blinds were raised, as they had been since the first time she’d opened them more than a week ago.

  “I don’t trust myself,” she said after a minute.

  “With me?”

  She nodded. He came up behind her, not touching her, but the proximity alone arousing him.

  He asked the question that had been on his mind all week. “How much of it is me, and how much is Danny?”

  “You’re a package.”

  “You can’t separate it out?”

  “Do you mean would I be attracted to you without Danny?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We wouldn’t have met without Danny.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Heath,” she said, a smile in her voice, “I think between us we have enough issues to keep a psychologist on retainer full-time.”

  He agreed. “All right, Cassie. We won’t talk about it.”

  “How did your interview with the woman from the nanny agency go?” she asked.

  “Fine.” He hadn’t told the woman to send candidates. He wasn’t ready. Not to have a nanny there, and not to give up Cassie.

  She turned around, a slight smile on her face. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t not touch her, not kiss her. Maybe it was better that they get this out of the way. If she felt she couldn’t stay, so be it. He wouldn’t force her.

  “Cassie.”

  Her brows lifted.

  He cupped her face. He felt her pull Danny a little closer to her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He kissed her, not hard, not long, but enough to make the point that it was no simple greeting from friend to friend. Then just when she leaned into him he backed off. He had his answer. “I missed you,” he said.

  She swallowed. “I missed you, too.”

  The phone rang. The caller ID said Private Party, which he usually let go to the answering machine, but he grabbed it and said hello, his mood upbeat. He brushed a hand over Danny’s silky hair. Every day his world got a little better, a little brighter.

  “Heath?”

  The voice was female and hesitant. “Eva?” He locked gazes with Cassie. “Where are you?”

  “At a friend’s house. I just wanted…I was wondering how the baby is.”

  “He’s fine. He’s beautiful. Do you—” he forced the words “—want to see him?”

  “No. I— No.”

  “Where are you living? How can I get in touch with you?”

  “Heath…”

  “What?”

  Silence. Heath waited for as long as he could stand it.

  “Are you sure you want to give him up, Eva?”

  “I’m sure.”

  She hung up before he could coax an address out of her, but not before he heard the hitch in her voice. He cradled the receiver, left his hand on it.

  “You are a good man,” Cassie said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You asked if she was sure.”

  “Some people would argue that I was just looking out for my own interests.”

  “Some people didn’t see your face. Didn’t see you look at Danny. Didn’t know what it would cost you to give him up, even part-time.”

  He shrugged. He didn’t want a medal, just a chance to be a father again. A more involved one. One Danny could count on to keep him safe. Forever.

  Cassie stepped into the shower late that night and closed her eyes. Exhaustion settled in her bones. She’d sent Heath to his office to work while Danny cried his little heart out for his four o’clock to seven o’clock cry time. Even itsy bitsy spider hadn’t helped, sung quietly in his room with his door shut.

  She’d read baby-care books while she rocked and walked him, and decided he had colic. He finally took a bottle and fell asleep, worn-out. When he woke up he was his placid self again, undemanding and content while they had dinner. Heath had headed to his office again after dinner, prodded by Cassie, who did some work herself, until it was time to feed Danny again.

  When she realized she was falling asleep standing up in the shower, she turned off the water and stepped out. A few minutes later she folded down the quilt. She found an envelope with her name on it. Inside was a short note:

  Dear Cassie,

  It was wonderful meeting you. Thank you for making our son laugh again. And remember, you only regret what you don’t do. Peace, Crystal and Journey.

  What did they mean by that thing about regret? she wondered, even as she smiled at the note itself. She’d found them to be down-to-earth, fun and warm. Yes, she could see Heath’s point—his mother talked a lot. But she told great stories and wasn’t mean-spirited or gossipy. If things were different… Well, she was glad she hadn’t spent more time with them than she had. She’d liked them both.

  Cassie climbed into bed just as Danny’s cry came over the intercom. She heard Heath walk down the hall and decided to stay in bed. She would get Danny the next time.

  She was almost asleep when there was a knock on her door. “Cassie?”

  She sat up. “What?”

  “Danny and I want to know if you’d like to watch Letterman with us.”

  She stifled a yawn. “Sure. Give me a minute.”

  “We’ll be in my bedroom.”

  He padded across to his room. Cassie sat staring at the opposite wall. In his bedroom? O-kay.

  She’d remembered to bring a robe this time, so she put it on before crossing the hall. He was propped against his headboard with his knees raised, Danny nestled along his thighs. She looked for a chair to drag close to the bed. The only chair in the room was an overstuffed lounge chair, far too big to move.

  “We won’t bite,” he said, patting the bed beside him, his eyes on the television as the Letterman theme song started.

  I might bite you, though, she thought with a smile. How he tempted her, tormented her. The way he’d kissed her that afternoon when she thought she’d been warning him off…she had to admit she liked it. Liked the way he took charge. Now here she was in his bedroom, albeit with Danny, too, but he was no threat to her equilibrium.

  She shoved a few pillows against the headboard then sat, stretching out her legs, drawing her robe tighter. It would be a testament to her self-control if she resisted inching closer. How long had it been since she’d cuddled up with someone to watch television? Had she ever? She must have, but she couldn’t remember when.

  As the monologue began, Cassie let Danny grab her finger and hold tight. He turned his head toward her when she spoke.

  “Does he watch the whole show?” she asked.

  “He likes the Top Ten list.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I think it’s the laughter. Maybe he’s destined to be an
actor.”

  They lay there on the king-size bed. She closed her eyes and listened to the monologue, smiling at the jokes, hearing Heath laugh occasionally. It felt good. Nice…

  She woke up with a start. Panic gripped her. Darkness surrounded her. She clutched her robe

  “Easy,” she heard Heath say soothingly. “You’re okay.”

  “No.” She jackknifed up, started to scramble off the bed. She had to find light. She had to see.

  “Cassie—”

  “Turn on the light. Turn on the light.”

  He did. Light flared from his bedside lamp across the bed. She saw the questioning concern in his eyes. Sweat pulled her pajamas closer to her skin.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. She was, now. “Sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  She didn’t want to talk about it with him. Not now. Not yet. It was embarrassing that a twenty-nine-year-old woman had to have the light on to sleep.

  “I put Danny to bed,” he said, filling up the silence. “I turned off the television. Then as soon as I turned off the light you woke up,” he said.

  She said nothing. After a minute he put his arms around her and drew her close. She held herself stiff, her arms tucked close to her chest as a barrier, not wanting to give in to his comfort.

  “Rest,” he said, his breath dusting her hair.

  “Don’t turn off the light.”

  “I won’t.”

  She let herself relax, taking several minutes before she nestled against him, both of them still sitting up.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I should go to my room.” But she didn’t make a move to do so.

  He tightened his hold. She liked the feel of his body, the scent of his skin and the warmth of him, top to bottom. She wanted to get closer, to lie down with him. She didn’t dare to.

  “You’re afraid of the dark,” he said.

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’m afraid of falling asleep,” he said. “I dream about my son. About Kyle. I hate falling asleep.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been better since you’ve been here.”

  “Since Danny,” she corrected.

  “Both of you.”

  She was too comfortable with him. She wanted too much to stay with him, to sleep in his arms. She couldn’t. She could fall in love with him so easily, and he was just beginning to open up to the world. He had a lot of catching up to do. He couldn’t be tied down again so soon.

  And she had an ideal of a happy family, one that was probably impossible for her to attain. She would ruin things at some point. She always did.

  But how could she ignore him when he rubbed her back like that, the strokes long and even. Her eyes stung and her throat burned.

  “Want to lie down?” he asked.

  “I need to go to my own bed,” she said, pushing away.

  He let her go. She didn’t even say good-night but hurried across the hall. As soon as she reached her bedroom she regretted leaving him, knowing she was giving him mixed messages. She turned to go back, not sure what she would say, and came face-to-face with him. She hadn’t heard him follow.

  He moved a little closer to her, not crowding her but not giving her a lot of space, either. “If you’d stayed in my bed,” he said, “I wouldn’t have touched you unless you wanted me to. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of me. I don’t trust myself. I told you that earlier. Last week when you kissed me—here, in this room—if your parents hadn’t been here…”

  He framed her face with his hands, his touch gentle, and then he kissed her, a long, searching, tender kiss that made her eyes sting and her toes curl. She slid her arms around him, giving in to the demand building inside her. Without her wearing her boots he seemed so much taller, which made her feel feminine, a rarity for her. She wished she was wearing something silky and soft.

  He moved his hands down her back, a long, slow drag, ending at her hips, then pulled her against him. She moaned at the feel of him, hard and tempting, pressed into her abdomen. His mouth opened, his tongue sought hers. She met it, welcomed it, welcomed him, as she went up on tiptoe, winding her arms around his neck. His lips were soft and firm, gentle and bold, cautious and daring. A kiss for the memory book from this stealer of breath and heart.

  “Come sleep with me,” he murmured in her ear. “Just sleep.”

  “Too tempting.” She hated to say it, hated being sensible and reasonable and mature, but she was looking out for him as much as herself. And yet she couldn’t stop touching him, letting her fingers comb through his hair, drift down his neck. She wanted so much to give in to him, to the pleasure, to the joy.

  He scooped her into his arms, drawing a shriek from her. “We’re going to my room,” he said. “Sleep in my bed. What happens after that is up to you.”

  He carried her across the hall and set her on his bed. After a minute she felt him touch her braid.

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” he said. “May I?”

  The question required more than an answer—it required a decision. Freeing her hair meant freeing her passion. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. What should she do? Anything could happen between them. Should she give in to her need for him because it might be her only opportunity to do so? Or not give in to her need because it might be her only opportunity?

  Make a memory or not? Now or never?

  You only regret the things you don’t do. The words from his parents’ note to her came back. Whether or not she bought into the theory, she wanted to believe it was reason enough to make love with him tonight, with no regrets in the morning or the future.

  She started to pull off the band from the end of the braid.

  “I’ll do it,” he said quietly. “Please.”

  “Okay.”

  She felt him tug the band off her hair, then he unbraided it, slowly, carefully, until her hair lay across her back like a cape. She closed her eyes, enjoying his touch, his attention. She’d watched his hands cradle Danny, stroke his hair, pat his back. Now they worked magic on her instead, both hands tunneling through her hair like gentle combs.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “You’re beautiful. I don’t think you know that about yourself.”

  “No—”

  “I thought it the first time I saw you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him.

  “And fierce,” he added. “Protective. Kind. Brave. Nurturing. Scared.”

  “Scared?”

  He nodded. “Of commitment. Of the disappointment that so often comes with it.”

  “You’ve learned all that about me in two and a half weeks?”

  He sat up, lifted her hair over her shoulders, and massaged her back. “All that and more. My mother pointed something out, though, that made everything click.”

  “What was that?”

  “That she’d never seen anyone work harder at keeping their distance than you. I started to pay attention then—to how you clench your fists when your eyes say you want to touch. To how you take a step back when the rest of your body seems to be leaning forward. You don’t let yourself give in to what comes naturally. Except that you didn’t try to keep your distance from Danny.”

  He’d summed her up. There was no defense. “No.” And I’m not keeping my distance from you, even though I should. But, no regrets.

  “Heath?”

  “Cassie?”

  “I’m saying yes.”

  Eleven

  She said yes.

  Heath didn’t know if he’d made the wisest or stupidest decision of his life by bringing her into his room, but there was no turning back now. He wanted her with a depth of passion he hadn’t known in a very long time.

  Everything about her appealed to him in some base way, whether in sex appeal, maternal instinct or job efficiency. A complete package. He knelt beside her on the bed then was surprised to fi
nd his hands shaking when he touched her face.

  “I’m glad,” she said softly, making eye contact.

  “About what?”

  She wrapped her hands around his. “That you’re as excited as I am. My heart is thundering so much I can hardly hear anything.”

  “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You are the—” He stopped when her eyes sparkled at her joke, then the sparkle turned to brilliance as she slid her hands down his chest, stopping at his waistband. She slipped a hand under his T-shirt and touched skin. He sucked in a breath as her fingernails scraped his flesh.

  “I take it you’re not sleepy,” he said.

  “My little nap was enough to keep me awake for hours.”

  “Hours?”

  “Can’t rise to the occasion?” She smiled seductively.

  He didn’t know what to make of the playful Cassie, except to enjoy her.

  “You’ve already gotten a rise out of me,” he said, untying the sash of her robe.

  “I noticed.”

  “Are you on the Pill?” he asked as she slipped out of her robe and tossed it aside.

  “Yes.”

  He knew she wouldn’t lie to him. She was well aware of what Eva had done, and Cassie wouldn’t do the same. “Anything else I should know?”

  She shook her head. “You?”

  “No.”

  “Twenty-first century reality sure pours ice water on romance, doesn’t it?” she asked, suddenly looking hesitant.

  Time to change the tone. Time to let her know how much he wanted her. He peeled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it. Before he could reach for her, she leaned close and kissed his chest.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” she asked, her tongue making swirls, leaving cool, damp trails that chilled and excited, teased and tormented.

  “Not as long as I’ve wanted to do the same to you,” he said, moving her back, stopping her. He liked her assertiveness, liked that she wasn’t afraid to show she wanted him. But his control was going to last about half a minute if she kept doing that. “Let me show you,” he said.

  She sat quietly as he unbuttoned her top and pushed it over her shoulders. He whispered her name as her breasts were bared, then resisted the temptation to touch, making her wait, making her want. He grabbed the waistband of her bottoms and tugged them down and off.

 

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