by Peggy Jaeger
“Oh, Tiff,” he whispered. He lowered his head to the bed, her hand still cradled in his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Never moving once from his position, Cole stayed with Tiffany, their hands joined until Carly came back into the room a short time later.
“Cole.”
He looked up, let go of Tiffany’s hand, stood and crossed to her.
“Everything’s been arranged,” she told him, her voice hushed. “As soon as she wakes up we can leave.”
“Will you be able to stay with her until I can get home?” he asked, turning back to look at the bed and its occupant. “I’ve got to get back to the UN as soon as possible. I’ve got a report I can’t get out of.”
Carly laid a hand on his arm, slipped it down and locked her fingers with his. “Of course I will.”
He nodded, then his gaze went back to the bed.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Eyes widening, Cole shook his head. “I told her you were a keen observer.”
Stunned, Cole stared into the soft eyes of the woman he’d considered a mother for almost half his life. “I never thought something like this would happen,” he said. “I’ve always loved her, since the first day I met her at the fair. Who couldn’t? She was the cutest kid I’d ever seen. But lately, since I’ve been back, it’s more. I don’t know when it happened, but yes, I’m in love with her. More than I ever thought I’d be with anyone. I can’t go a full minute during the day without thinking about her, wanting to be with her. Carly,” he gripped her hands tightly, stared into eyes so like her daughter’s. “I don’t know how you feel about this, about the two of us, but believe me, all I want is for her to be happy. I think she has been with me. I know I’ve been delirious.”
Carly chuckled and grabbed Cole for a deep hug. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. And I’m glad it’s you who makes her that way. So very glad.”
Cole was speechless. Her total, unconditional acceptance humbled him.
“I’ll never hurt her,” he said into her hair.
Carly’s hushed laugh made him pull away. “Yes, you will. All men eventually do something to hurt the women they love, even the tiniest of infractions. But it won’t change anything between you. That, I promise.”
“Mom?”
Tiffany leaned up on an elbow, her eyes dazed as she looked at them.
“Hi, sweetie.” Carly bent and kissed her daughter’s cheek.
“My head hurts,” Tiffany said, leaning against her mother. “Like a train hit it.”
“The doctor told us you’d feel that way for a while.”
“Doctor?” Tiffany pulled back, glanced at Cole, and then down at her arm. “What’s going on? What happened?”
Briefly, and with a minimum of fuss, Carly told her daughter about the roses.
Tiffany’s pale face blanched even further, the freckles almost black against the pallor. An instant later, her cheeks reddened.
Good. He could deal with her angry, welcoming the fire burning back into her eyes. That backbone made of tempered steel could be counted on to weather any storm. It was when she was helpless that he fell to pieces.
“Do you know who did it?” Tiffany asked.
Carly shook she head. “The police are looking into it, Mike’s old friend, Detective Wilson. Do you remember him from that episode with James Pearson all those years ago?”
Tiffany nodded, then gasped. Her hands flew to cradle her head. “Ow!”
“Lie back.” Cole helped her do so. His hands were shaking so badly, he was terrified she’d notice.
“His son, Bruce Wilson,” Carly continued when Tiffany looked comfortable, “is in charge of the case. He’s just arrived and Mike and Sean are speaking with him right now.”
“Sean?”
It was Cole who answered. “We think this is related to what’s been going on with you for the past few days.”
Tiffany let that sink in. “Makes sense,” she said. “When can I get out of here?”
“Right now,” Carly told her. “Everything’s arranged. I’ll go get the nurse to remove your lines.”
When they were alone, Cole sat down on the corner of her bed. “You gave me a giant scare, Brat,” he said, taking her hand. Bringing it up to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers, he gently kissed the back and then the palm. “I put a hole in the wall outside this room when I heard about what happened. I’ll probably have to pay for the repairs.”
“Typical male response,” she chided. “Cole, who would do this to me?” A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “Who hates me enough to want me—?”
“Hush,” Cole said, gently gathering her into his arms. She felt frail and fragile beneath his hands, two descriptions he never wanted to acknowledge when it came to her. “The police’ll find out who it is. Don’t worry. You’ve just got to concentrate on getting better.”
Tiffany pushed away from him, utter fury on her face. Her cheeks had gone apple red, the freckles that made his toes curl with desire, stood out dark and bold.
She swiped viciously at an errant tear. “No. What I need to concentrate on is getting back to the rink.”
Cole exhaled and tried to calm the emotions warring within him.
“Tiffany, the doc says you’re going to have a killer headache for a few days. He wants you to rest.”
She cut him off with the wave of her hand. “I don’t give a flying fig what he wants. No one. No. One. Is going to force me out of this show. This is my show. My hard work and sweat have gone into it. I’ll be damned if I let someone who hates me take it away from me. I don’t care about any dumb headache. I had pneumonia when I won my first national title. I will not let this person get to me. Do you understand?”
Cole stared at her, loving her more than he ever thought he could. This was his Tiffany, all fire and grit and raw persistence no matter what the cost. That attitude had gotten her where she was today, and he knew the same attitude would get her through this entire mess.
He couldn’t be angry with her for what she felt. She wouldn’t be who she was if she didn’t, so he drew solace from her strength.
“Okay, Brat,” he said. “It’s your head. And I know just how hard it is.”
Her pale lips twitched. Then her expression grew serious again. “I want to go home.”
“Your mom will be right back. Want me to help you get dressed?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, hoping to make her smile.
“I think I can manage it by myself, thanks.”
“Pity.” He rose when the door opened and Carly came back in with a nurse. “I’ll wait outside.”
Ten minutes later the four of them were in Mike’s limousine on their way back to the apartment. Sean had declined the offer of a ride back to his hotel and had grabbed a cab.
Once through the front foyer entrance, Peter, his withered face pale and contrite, said, “Miss Tiffany, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Peter,” she told him. “No harm done. I’m fine.”
“Have the police spoken with you?” Mike asked while they waited for the elevator.
“Yes. I told them everything I could remember about the young man who delivered the box. Everything. I hope it helps.”
Carly took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure it will.”
Cole had one arm tossed around Tiffany’s shoulders, and she leaned heavily against him on the ride up. When the elevator stopped, she lurched forward and threw her hands out to steady herself.
“That’s it,” Cole said, scooping her up in his arms. “You’re going to bed right now, and I’m not listening to any arguments.”
Tiffany’s head fell onto his shoulder. Eyes closed, she asked, “Who’s arguing?”
He brought her to her room, Carly on his heels.
“I’ll help her get settled.”
Gazing down at Tiffany he told her, “I’ve got to get back over to the UN, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Barely conscious, Tiffany nodde
d.
When Cole leaned down to kiss her cheek, she was already asleep.
“I’ll be here,” Carly told him, raising her own cheek.
“Come on, son,” Mike said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
****
“This is Cole Greer, reporting live from the United Nations. Dave?”
“Thanks, Cole. Also in the news tonight…”
Cole ripped off the portable microphone.
“Good piece,” his cameraman Rory said, after ending their live feed.
“Thanks.”
“What time should I be back in the morning?”
“The General Council goes back into session at eight thirty. Be here about seven thirty, and we can get some background video for the noon spot.”
“Okay. Have someone call me if anything happens before then.”
“Will do.”
It was after eleven and freezing when Cole finally hailed a cab back to the apartment. He’d spent the better part of the evening inside the United Nations, waiting for news on the peace talks. The long wait was made more arduous by his concern for Tiffany. Twice he called Carly, was told Tiffany was sleeping and not to worry, and then proceeded to do so. Gnawing for information, he called Mike, and then paged the detective in charge of the case. The best information the man could give him was the flower shop that supplied the roses had been located.
“But it was a cash transaction,” Detective Wilson told him. “I’m having the doorman and the shop assistant meet with a sketch artist to see if we can get a depiction of the guy. That’s about all for now.”
Frustrated further, Cole called Sean.
“She’s doing okay?” the aging blader asked.
“As well as can be expected. Anything new from your end?”
“No, but I’ve had an idea. My friend, the explosives guy, is also a videographer. He’s going to hook up a motion recording device in Tiffany’s dressing room.”
“What for?”
“To get a recorded image of everyone who comes into the lass’s room. Maybe we can catch this guy in the act.”
Cole was pleased. “Not a bad idea, Sean. Not a bad idea at all.”
“Aye, it’s the very least I can do.”
“Tiffany was already squawking about getting back on the ice. She’s determined not to let this keep her from the show.”
Sean’s sigh was low and deep. “Aye, she’s a tough one, our girl. I’m not surprised by her spirit a’tall. I only hope she’s physically up to it.”
“How was she in practice today?”
“Perfect as always. Not one misstep. Although I’ll deny to me grave I ever said it.”
Cole sighed. “Well, that’s something to be grateful for.”
“Aye. I’ll come over in the morning, early, to discuss what she wants to do. Tell her, will ya, lad?”
“Sure.”
He leaned his head back against the grainy cab cushion and scraped his hands down his face. Every bone in his body was cold and sore, the muscles tight from stress. What he needed was a good night’s sleep, preferably holding the woman he loved.
Cole shook his head. In love with the Brat. Astounding things do happen.
He found Carly sprawled on the couch, a blanket warming her. He didn’t want to wake her, but she’d always been a light sleeper, and the moment he crossed the carpet she was up like a shot.
“It’s just me,” he told her. He sat down on the couch next to her. “How is she?”
Carly stretched and yawned. “Fine. She slept most of the evening. Woke up once for a cup of tea.”
“Her head still hurt?”
Carly smiled. “She denies it, but you only have to look in her eyes to see the headache lurking behind them.”
“Stubborn as always.” Cole shook his head.
“Of course she is.” Carly rose and folded the blanket. “All MacQuire women are. You should know that by now.”
“Carly, why don’t you stay? Your room is still made up.”
Shaking her head, she said, “Mike’s waiting at home for me. I promised him I’d go as soon as you got in.”
“It’s late.” Cole rose and took her hand. “You don’t have to go. This is, after all, your apartment.”
“The car’s waiting downstairs.” She patted his cheek. “And I want to go home and sleep in my own bed with my husband. I know everything will be fine here. You’ll take care of her for me.”
“And for me,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“I’ll see you both in the morning.”
While he helped her into her coat, she said, “Oh, by the way, there’s some left over Hop Suey’s in the fridge.” Her smile was warm and tired. “Mike had it sent over for dinner.”
“Did Tiff eat anything?”
“No.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She kissed him again and was out the door in a flash.
Cole was more tired than hungry, so, foregoing the delicious dinner he knew waited for him, he strode to Tiffany’s room.
The light was on next to the bed, dimmed. Cole could make out her form as she lay, in her favorite fetal position, under the coverlet.
He toyed with the tip of a curly tendril as it peeked out from under the blanket, and quite easily his heart filled with love. When he bent down to kiss her cheek, her eyes fluttered.
“When did you get home?” she asked, voice thick and husky with sleep. Cole had never heard anything sound sexier in his life.
“Just a minute ago. Carly left,” he said, pulling the covers up around her ears and shoulders. “I’m gonna go crash. Yell if you need anything.”
“Stay with me,” she said softly, her hand reaching for him.
Cole had thought to let her sleep alone, not to disrupt her with his stirrings. Her plea choked him and tied his insides into knots.
“Are you sure?”
“I want you to hold me,” she said. “I need you. I’ve been waiting all night for you to come home. Please.”
No further encouragement was needed.
He yanked off his clothes and slid, naked, beneath the sheets with her. Her body was warm and soothing and when she coiled into his arms, Cole felt a door open in his heart and then gently close shut.
“I need you too, Tiff. More than anyone or anything,” he told her, kissing her brow. While she curled into a ball at his side, Cole gently stroked her cheek, jaw, and neck. He fingered the gold chain around her neck, and the ring he’d given her the first day they’d met.
Tiffany stirred, cuddling closer. “I love you,” she whispered, drifting off.
Before closing his eyes into a contented slumber, an idea swiftly moved through his mind.
He let it grow, a slow, contented feeling of warmth coursing through him, and then joined her in sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
He heard the soft fall of rain as his mind came awake. Before he opened his eyes he reached out for her and found nothing.
Cole shot up.
Where was she? For a brief moment his head filled with panic, until he realized the rain was coming from the bathroom.
Plopping back down on the bed, a tidal wave of relief washed over him.
She was okay. Safe.
The bedside clock told him the early hour, and all Cole wanted to do was pull the covers back up around him and sleep an hour away. But the sound of her off-key humming, and all the delicious thoughts running around in his brain about what she looked like soapy and wet and naked, exploded him off the bed like a rocket.
The bathroom was steamy, the mist everywhere, fogging the mirrors and the porcelain.
She sure did like it hot.
With a grin tugging at his lips, Cole jerked back the shower curtain and was delighted to hear Tiffany’s squeal of horror.
“Good morning,” he said, grinning at her naked body.
“Some people,” she said, jerking the curtain into the tub and around her torso, “have the common decency to let others shower in private.”
Her left eyebrow was slanted high on her forehead, a sure sign of indignation. Her face had that queen smelling an onion look again and he laughed heartily as he climbed into the tub with her.
“What are you doing?” she shrieked. “Get out of here. I want some privacy.”
Cole tugged the curtain away from her body and felt a train crash into his stomach as she stood before him nude and delectably dewy.
“You’ve got privacy,” he said, reaching for her. “There’s no one here but you and me.”
“That’s one too many.”
When his arms circled around her small waist, pulling her up on her toes, Tiffany stiffened. Arms crossed over her chest, she glared up at him. “You have no decency.”
“None,” he said, trailing a kiss from her brow to her jaw.
“You’re a cad of the first order.” Her voice hitched just a tad when his mouth clamped down on her earlobe.
“Charter member in good standing of the cad’s club.” He nibbled her shoulder, rewarded when she leaned her body fully against his.
“I don’t know why I tolerate you,” she added, slipping her arms around his waist.
Cole pulled back and leered down at her. “Because you’re crazy about me,” he said, before clamping his lips to hers.
They lost themselves in the kiss.
When he pulled back, grinning down at her, she said, “Just plain crazy is more like it,” before tugging his head back to hers and devouring his swollen mouth.
“Just plain crazy,” he agreed.
****
“I’m hungry,” he said a few minutes later, while he wrapped a towel around his waist.
“You’re always hungry,” she shot back, shaking out her wet hair. “A walking appetite, just like Addie always said.”
Cole grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a hug. “Want to cook me a breakfast befitting Addie’s memory?”
She gazed up at him, a grin slanting her mouth. “Befitting Addie’s memory?” she asked. “That’s a good one.”
He planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Thought it was pretty good myself.”
“Arrogant, to boot,” she said, slipping by him. She wasn’t quick enough, though, and he had her whisked up and on his back in a second flat.