Once Around

by Barbara Bretton

  He stripped off his shirt as he made his way toward the bathroom. He was surprised to see he was still in the tux from the night before. That would explain some of the looks he'd been given in McDonald's on the way home. He threw the wrinkled shirt on top of a chair. It slipped and fell across the cradle near the hall and caught on a rough edge of pine. The cradle looked crude to him now, large curves of wood with no subtlety of design or execution.

  She wouldn't have liked the cradle, he thought as he moved past the unfinished piece. It was too much like him.

  #

  Molly spent much of the day trying to nap. Feeling like Goldilocks, she wandered from room to room, searching for the right place to settle down, but sleep still eluded her. Too much autumn sun streaming through the bedroom window. The chair in the sewing room was too hard and uncomfortable. She tried to curl up on the living room sofa, but every time she closed her eyes she saw Rafe and felt his hands, smelled his skin, almost tasted him.

  She'd made a mistake. It was so clear to her now that she wanted to laugh. She should have pushed reality away, as any other sane woman would have done, and followed her heart.

  Jessy had followed her heart. She'd had the guts to put her heart out there on the firing line and take her chances. That was more than Molly had ever done in her entire life. Maybe it was because she'd grown up in the midst of chaos, but she'd gone out of her way to avoid turmoil ever since. She chose the safe road, the sure thing, the path of least disappointment.

  That's why you chose Robert, isn't it, and see where that got you...

  "I know," she said out loud. She'd been thinking about that ever since he walked out. Robert had been the safe choice, the sure thing, and he'd left her and hadn't looked back. For weeks now she'd taken that as proof of her own inadequacy. She'd chosen the right man; she simply hadn't figured out a way to be the right woman for him. It never occurred to her that she'd chosen Robert with her head instead of her heart, that she'd been willing to overlook the lack of passion between them as long as she got security in return—which was a good way to end up with nothing at all,

  This time it was her heart that was telling her what to do, to take a chance for once in her life, even though the odds were stacked against her.

  She had nothing to lose. Her husband was in love with another woman. She was pregnant and about to be divorced, living in a house she couldn't afford, reduced to renting out a room to a boarder who wasn't afraid to take a chance with her life. Why not risk a broken heart? It couldn't hurt more than being alone.

  #

  Rafe couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Molly's sad eyes and distant smile.

  A fool, that's what he was. When he had the chance to tell her what was in his heart, he'd told her to have her chimney inspected instead. She knew he wanted her but she had no idea he worshipped her.

  He'd never had that trouble with Karen. For a time, when things were good between them, the words had come easily to him. Saying what was in his heart had been as natural as breathing.

  He should have done that with Molly. He should have told her with words what he'd tried to tell her with his body. The sight of her naked had obliterated everything but the call of the blood. When she pushed him away from her, there had been a moment when instinct came close to overpowering civilized behavior. It took a superhuman effort to reclaim his self-control.

  But there was no reason he couldn't have loved her with words.

  He'd tried to call her a little while ago, but she wasn't answering her phone. He'd listened to her voice on the machine then hung up without leaving a message. What he needed to say to her could only be said face-to-face, breath to breath.

  Heart to heart.

  He needed to say it now before it was too late.

  #

  Molly pulled into a 7-Eleven just south of Stockton to ask for directions. The roads were narrow and unlighted. The street signs were almost impossible to read. She'd been circling around for almost an hour, trying to find. Fallen Rock Road with no luck. She wished she had a house number or a cross street, something to make her believe she wasn't here on a wild goose chase.

  He might not even be home, Molly. Did you ever think of that?

  No, she hadn't thought of that and she wasn't going to think of it now. It was ten o'clock at night, and she was in the middle of nowhere. He had to be home. She refused to consider any other possibility. She couldn't imagine mustering up her courage to do this a second time.

  The clerk, a tall young woman with waist-length chestnut hair, wrinkled her nose. "Fallen Rock Road? I don't think I've ever heard of it." She began to ring up Molly's purchases. Molly prayed the condoms would be camouflaged by the tissues, newspaper, and toothbrush. "Why don't you call for directions?"

  "No!" Molly's cheeks flamed. "I mean, I don't know the phone number."

  "I know Fallen Rock Road," said the man on line behind Molly. "It's a private road up past the schoolhouse on the right."

  "A private road?" Molly said. "You must be mistaken." A handyman who lived on a private road? Not very likely.

  "I'm sure it's a private road," the man went on. "When the old lady was around, they had, a guard posted."

  Old lady? Guards? She must have the street name wrong. None of this sounded like Rafe. "Thank you," she said. "I might have made a mistake."

  "No price code," the cleric murmured, flipping over the package. She turned toward the back of the store. "Sal, I need a price on Trojans lubricated." She looked again at the package. "The three-pack."

  A hush fell across the 7-Eleven. Molly wanted to dig a hole through the linoleum with her bare hands and throw herself headlong into it.

  "I'm sure these aren't for you," the clerk said after Sal called back a price. "You're way past needing these now, aren't you, honey?" She leaned over and patted Molly's belly as if it were a particularly friendly puppy.

  Molly couldn't manage more than a nod of her head. Everyone around her was chuckling at the thought of an obviously pregnant woman needing condoms. She gave the clerk a ten-dollar bill then ran from the store without waiting for the change. She could live without that extra two dollars and thirty-seven cents.

  "Okay, that's it," she said as she slipped behind the wheel. If she'd been looking for a sign that she and Rafe were meant to be, this was it. They weren't. She couldn't find his street. She'd been humiliated at the local 7-Eleven. Even the most bright-eyed optimist would have to admit those were undeniable signs that she was headed down the wrong path.

  She turned the key and flipped on her headlights. Her tires crunched over the gravel as she turned right out of the parking lot and headed for Stockton.

  She told herself she was just looking for Fallen Rock Road to satisfy her curiosity. She'd find the schoolhouse, locate the road, then turn around and drive home again. Simply an intellectual exercise in navigation, that's all it was. She just wanted to prove to herself that she could do it.

  The schoolhouse loomed in the darkness. It dated back to the early nineteenth century and was built almost Rush with the road. You could open your car door and step inside the classroom without ever touching the street. Fallen Rock Road was right behind it.

  Okay, you've found it. Now turn around and go home.

  She signaled right then turned onto Fallen Rock Road. Her headlights reflected off some water in the drainage ditches on either side of the road. She couldn't make a U-turn without dropping a wheel into one of them, so she continued driving up the hill. What else could she do? Fallen Rock was a narrow, one-lane road with corkscrew turns that only made sense if the street was closed to regular traffic. She couldn't see beyond the reach of her headlights. The heavy woods on either side of the road soaked up all the moonlight and wouldn't relinquish a ray.

  She drove past a turnaround located just beyond a small wooden bridge. She could have easily made her U-turn. there. Her Jeep had a small turn radius, and she was a good driver, but she kept driving up the hill. Her heart beat so fast
and loud that again she was amazed the baby could sleep through it.

  What if he lived with someone? For all she knew he might have a lover and six kids. And who was the old lady that man had mentioned? What on earth was that all about? Maybe he lived with his mother. Maybe he lived with his grandmother.

  Hello, Mrs. Garrick. Is your grandson home? I'm here to have sex with him.

  A huge stone house appeared at the end of the drive.

  She gripped the wheel so tightly it would have taken the Jaws of Life to pry it out of her hands. Electric candles, the kind people used at Christmas, burned at each of the first story windows. Somehow Rafe didn't strike her as an electric candle kind of guy. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach.

  She dimmed her lights and slowed to a crawl so she wouldn't draw any attention to herself,

  Burglars do that, too, Molly.

  That was too bad. She was faced with a limited number of options. Stealth seemed the lesser of the two evils. She had to remember to tell the cops that, when they came shrieking up the driveway after her. All she wanted now was to turn around and get out of there before Rafe knew what she'd done.

  Another structure caught her eye. It looked like a carriage house set toward the back of the property. A single light burned in a second-story window. She slowed to a stop and stared across the wide expanse of yard toward that light. The window was bare. She could see the edge of a plain white lamp shade to the right of the window and the vague outline of a dresser. The walls were painted a very pale sandalwood color.

  Rafe's bedroom. She didn't know how she knew but she knew..

  This is why you came here, Molly. Are you going to turn away from him a second time?

  She turned off the engine. Deep silence surrounded her. She stared up at that window as if it held all the answers she needed.

  She climbed out of the car, clutching her purse and the 7-Eleven bag. She could almost hear her knees knocking together. She could definitely hear the sound her heart made as it slammed over and over against her rib cage. She tried to move lightly across the gravel, but each step sounded like a team of horses. He had to know she was out there. People in Philadelphia probably knew she was out there.

  Don't think about it, Molly. Just do it. For once just follow your heart.

  What if her heart told her to get back in the Jeep and drive home? What if her heart told her this was the absolutely craziest idea she'd had in her entire life and that she should get out of there before she embarrassed herself so badly she'd never be able to look in the mirror again as long as she lived?

  What if her heart was playing tricks on her, making her think she saw Rafe standing not ten feet away from her, watching her with those midnight sky eyes?

  Her breath left her body on the wings of a sigh as he covered the distance between them in a few long strides. He stopped in front of her. She was dizzy from the smell of pine and wet earth and his skin. God, the smell of his skin ...

  "I'm dreaming," she said, reaching out to place the palm of her hand flat against his chest. "I don't want to wake up."

  He placed his hand against her left breast, curving his palm around the fullness. Her breath caught, and he smiled.

  "It's not a dream," he said, then caught her up in his arms.

  She pressed her face against the side of his neck. Of course it was a dream. A beautiful, impossible dream.

  He kicked open the front door and carried her inside. The smell of pine filled her head. She saw exposed beams, oatmeal-colored walls hung with vibrant woven blankets and wood carvings, but mostly she saw him. He had a small cleft in his chin. Why hadn't she noticed that before? His face was smooth. There wasn't the hint of stubble anywhere. She wanted to lick his cheek, his chin, his lips.

  She rubbed her cheek against his. "You shaved." Robert had been a morning shaver. He'd never particularly cared what happened after dark.

  "I didn't want to scratch you."

  She touched the tip of her index finger to the cleft in his chin. "You didn't know I was coming here tonight."

  "I was on my way to see you."

  Whatever resistance remained, whatever tiny hold she still had on good sense, melted like a quick-burning candle.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They reached the landing at the top of the stairs.

  "You can put me down," Molly said in her lush contralto. "I'm tall and I'm pregnant. That's asking a lot of a man."

  "Quiet," he said and then he kissed her. He would have carried her to the ends of the earth and beyond if it meant she wouldn't leave him.

  It was a gentle kiss, sweet as spun sugar, sweeter than he thought a kiss could be. She had this way of sighing when he kissed her, a sweet soft rush of breath as their lips met that spun his head around.

  He placed her gently on top of his bed.

  "A feather bed?"

  "You sound surprised,"

  "This isn't at all what I expected."

  "You are," he said. "You're all that I expected and more."

  Her eyes glittered with tears, and she looked down at her hands but not before he saw her lips curve into a smile. He wanted to take credit for each one of those tears and for that smile, but he knew that pregnancy heightened a woman's emotions. What she felt tonight she might not feel in the morning.

  This was all they had, all they might ever have. He knew it, and so did she.

  Her beauty stunned him. She leaned back against his pillows, and her body curved naturally into a pose of such grace that he was torn between desire and worship.

  He bent down over her and reached for the buttons on her blouse. He heard the sound of her breath as it caught in her throat. Her eyes locked with his, and she didn't move or react as he unbuttoned the creamy silk blouse. She leaned forward slightly to help him slip it from her body then lay back against the pillow once again. She wore a lacy bra the color of the palest champagne. He worked the front clasp with two fingers, and she sighed as he freed her breasts.

  The urgency of the night before had been replaced with slow exploration. He bent low over her, tracing the contours of her beautiful breasts first with his fingers and then with his tongue, circling each nipple in turn until they glistened wet and deep rose.

  "The light," she whispered as he eased her jeans over her belly and hips, and he extinguished it before she drew her next breath. He could still see her in the faint glow of moonlight that filtered through his bedroom window. She had removed her panties and lay before him, naked and lovelier than any dream of paradise he'd ever dreamed.

  "I don't want to disappoint you," she said as he took off his own clothes and tossed them in a corner of the room.

  He struggled again to find words to give meaning to all that he was feeling, all that he'd felt for her for so long.. "You're beautiful," he said, then kicked himself for the inadequacy of those simple words. "You couldn't disappoint me."

  She ducked her head for an instant then once again met his eyes. She gestured toward the bed with a graceful arc of her hand. "I might," she said simply.

  He touched her lips with the tip of his index finger. "You couldn't."

  She took his hand and kissed it then held it fast. "Please listen," she said. "I've only been with my husband, and we weren't—" Her face flooded with embarrassment. "We weren't very passionate."

  The words he'd struggled to find came to him in that instant, and he started to talk. She was the most sensual, beautiful woman he'd ever known. Her sensuality was deep and true, a result of who she was and not what she'd done along the way. And he wanted her. He would swim an ocean to be with her, scale the highest mountain, walk through fire if that was what it took. He didn't care where she'd been, what she'd done or hadn't done along the way. This moment, who they were together, what they did—that was all that mattered.

  She listened to him, her body silhouetted in the moonlight as she sat at the edge of the bed, and then she held out her arms to him.

  He approached the bed. Magic was everywhere. She slid
her hands around the backs of his thighs and rested her cheek against his belly. His erection leaped at the brush of her hair against his skin. He saw the way her eyes widened in surprise and he held his breath as she lightly drew her tongue down from his navel to the base of his penis. She was trembling.. So was he. The touch of her delicate tongue was enough to take him where he needed to go, but he willed himself to hold back, to make the moment last.

  Forever, if possible.

  He'd settle for forever.

  #

  He was hard and soft and hot and wet and every shatteringly wonderful sensation in between. Her hands trembled, and he took the condom from her and quickly put it on. She drew her tongue from tip to base, laughing softly as he danced to her tune. She'd never known power like this before. She was in charge of every magnificent inch of his erection. It was hers. She knew it instinctively. She was ripe with child. Her breasts were round and full and exquisitely sensitive to his touch. She felt powerful and generous and more female, more womanly, than she had ever felt in her life.

  Life flowed from her fingertips to his. From her lips to the tip of his erection. From her belly to the universe. The secrets and mysteries that had eluded her all her life came clear to her now, and she could only laugh at the years she'd wasted living only half a life. When it was right, when the magic held a man and woman in its thrall, you just had to follow your heart.

  She circled him with her tongue then wet her lips. Somewhere in the distance she heard a low moan but she couldn't say which one of them had made the sound. She felt connected to him in every way possible. Tomorrow there would be time enough to worry about what she'd done and how. Tonight there was only soft skin over hot steel and dreams of heaven.