by Linda Howard
Rome lay awake too, his gut twisting with anger and frustration. It made him see red when she froze up on him like that! He’d wanted to apologize for the night before, when he’d hurt her by rejecting her offer of sympathy, but she’d put up that damned blank wall and refused to respond or let him make it up to her. She’d been humming, as if it didn’t matter to her what he did. It probably didn’t matter, he thought savagely. But when he’d gone to her room and made love to her, she’d taken down the barrier and turned as hot and sweet in his arms as she always did. He’d wanted to grind his flesh into hers, to make her forget about keeping him at a distance, and he’d thought he’d succeeded; then that morning, she’d been as cool and remote as ever, as if she hadn’t gone wild beneath him.
That damned store was more important to her than anything else, including him. He’d asked her to go with him, but the store came first. He’d known how devoted she was to working, and he’d proposed to her, knowing that she’d expect the same priority for her work as he expected for his. He’d agreed to give her the room she needed, and now he found it was driving him insane. Whenever she put up those frosty barriers of hers, he wanted to smash them down and take her in the most primitive way, until she couldn’t build them again. She didn’t even care enough to argue; she simply stated her position, then turned away. The disdainful lift of that little chin had almost broken his control, but she’d made it plain that if he’d taken her to bed, it would have been rape, and he’d forced himself to leave before he sank to that. He didn’t want to hurt her—he wanted to possess her, totally and irrevocably. He wanted never to see that reserved, distant expression on her face again. And he wanted that shining eagerness that she reserved for that damned store to be for him. The challenge she represented was becoming an obsession for him, until even at work he found himself thinking of ways to break through her defenses. So far, the only way he’d found had been through sex, but that was only temporary.
He wanted her now. He was burning with need, and he moved restlessly on the bed. He waited, knowing that if he went in to her now, she’d fight, and he didn’t want to put her through that sort of experience; he wasn’t certain of his ability to control himself. He didn’t want her unwilling body; he wanted her all soft and melted beneath him, clinging to him with all the silky strength of her arms and legs, her cool image shattered by the earthiness of the act. For that, he’d wait.
When Sarah got up at her usual time the next morning, she was surprised to find Rome already up, with the preparations for breakfast almost finished. She looked at him warily, but the hard-edged anger had left him, though she still sensed an indefinable tension in him that made her keep her greeting merely polite.
“Sit down,” he said, and the words were a command, not an invitation.
Sarah sat down at the small table, and he served the meal, then took his place across from her.
They were almost finished eating when he spoke. “Are you going to keep the store open all day today?”
Cautiously, Sarah placed her coffee cup on the table. “Yes. Mr. Marsh, the previous owner, said that Saturday was always his biggest day. He closed for half a day on Wednesdays, and I think I’ll keep doing that too. People like a familiar schedule.”
She’d expected him to object, but instead he gave a curt nod. “I’ll go with you today. I’d like to look things over more carefully than I did before. Have you got your bookkeeping system set up yet?”
“Not completely.” Grateful that he wasn’t going to pick another argument, Sarah relaxed her guard and unconsciously leaned toward him a little, the unusual deep green of her eyes beginning to warm. “I’ve kept a record of everything I’ve spent, and of what I’ve sold, but I haven’t had time to begin organizing it yet.”
“If you don’t have any objections, I’ll set the books up for you,” he offered. “Have you thought about buying a personal computer and putting your inventory on it? For that matter, you need your bookkeeping system on computer too. It would be a lot easier to work with.”
“I’d thought about it, but a computer will have to wait. The store needs a new roof, and I’ve got several ideas for expanding the merchandise selection. Then there’s a burglar alarm system that I want installed too. I’ve just about used up all my savings, and I need to build a little working capital.”
“You used your savings?” he snapped, his heavy dark brows drawing down, and Sarah automatically withdrew from him again, the barrier springing into place to protect her. His jaw set as he saw her change of expression, and grim determination rose in him. He wasn’t going to let her lock him out this time; he was going to go over that damned wall as if it weren’t even there, ignoring its existence.
He reached out and snared her wrist, wrapping his hard fingers around the fragile bones. “That was the wrong way to do it,” he said, releasing all the irritation he felt. “You don’t spend your capital; you use it as collateral. Borrow the money, and let your own money collect interest while you use someone else’s. The interest you pay on the loan is tax-deductible, and believe me, babe, you’ll need every tax break you can get. Don’t wait for a profit to make those improvements; borrow the money and do it now. If I’d been here when you bought the store, I’d have marched you down to a bank to set up a business loan.”
Sarah relaxed, her eyes widening. She could handle his criticism and advice on business matters; she even welcomed it. She’d have to be a fool not to trust his business sense.
“You’ll also need a good accountant,” he continued. “I’d volunteer to do your taxes, but I have to spend too much time away from home. If you’re going to do this, do it right.”
“All right,” she agreed mildly. “I didn’t know all that. My instinct is to pay for everything outright, so it’s legally mine and can’t be taken away from me. I’ve never been interested in the ins and outs of business finance, but if that’s the way you say it should be done, I’ll take your word for it.”
His dark eyes sharpened, and like a hawk he swooped down on the most significant thing she’d said. The morning after their wedding, when she’d come unglued because the apartment was unfamiliar to her, he’d realized that she liked everything in its place. She was, in fact, almost fanatic about it. But now this second statement alerted him to a deep-seated insecurity in her that he hadn’t realized before. “Taken away from you?” he asked casually, though there was nothing casual in the way he watched her. He felt as if he were on the verge of finally getting around that barrier inside her, of knowing what went on in that reserved mind of hers. “Do you really think I’d let you go belly up if you enjoyed the store that much? You don’t have to worry about bankruptcy, ever.”
Sarah shivered, a movement that he felt immediately, as he was still holding her wrist. She stared at him across the cold, empty wasteland of her childhood; then her lashes dropped as she tried to push the emptiness away. “It isn’t that,” she vaguely explained. “I just needed to feel that it was mine, that I belonged…I mean, that it belonged to me.”
“Do you realize I don’t know anything about your family?” he asked conversationally, and she flinched, telling him without words that he was on the right track. “Where are your parents? Did you have a deprived childhood?”
Abruptly Sarah looked at him, awareness dawning in her eyes. “Are you psychoanalyzing me?” she asked in an attempt at lightness. “Don’t bother. I can clear it up for you; it’s no big mystery, though I really don’t like to talk about it. No, I didn’t have a deprived childhood, not in material things anyway. My father is a successful lawyer, and we were definitely upper-middle-class. But my parents weren’t happy together, and they stayed married only because of me; when I started college and was officially launched, they promptly divorced. I’ve never been close to my parents. Everything was so…so cold at home, so polite. I guess I grew up knowing how shaky everything was and expecting it to fall apart without notice. I intended to make my own little nest, where I’d feel safe,” she confessed.
“And you’re still doing it.”
“I’m still doing it. I pull things in around me and pretend that nothing will ever change.” She darted a look at him and shifted uncomfortably, aware that she’d bared a large part of herself to him. He was watching her with a look in his eyes that she took for pity, and she didn’t want that. She forced herself to shrug and say lightly, “Old habits die hard, if they die at all. I don’t easily accept any changes in my life; I have to think about things for a while and become accustomed to them, then gradually move things around. Except for the store,” she added thoughtfully. “I wanted the store immediately. It has such a permanent, homey feel to it.”
So that was what those barriers were all about, he thought. The wonder was that she’d married him at all, if she disliked changes so much. Probably she’d taken the step only because he’d assured her he wouldn’t interfere with her life, and since their marriage, he’d been trying to force himself past her reserve, while she’d been frantically trying to keep it in place. If he eased up, she’d gradually relax with him and accept his place in her life. She wasn’t cold and aloof at all, something he should have known immediately from the passionate way she responded to him in bed. She was more like a shy, wary doe, and she’d have to trust him and accept his presence before she’d let him venture close to her. Physical closeness and mental closeness were two very different things for her, and he’d have to remember that.
She wasn’t Diane. Diane’s personality had been firmly based on a loving, secure tightly knit family, and she’d had the inner self-confidence to handle his temper and dominant personality, while Sarah felt threatened by it. She was far softer, far more vulnerable, than he’d ever imagined.
She shifted, freeing her wrist from his grip and rising to her feet, smiling a bright smile that didn’t fool him in the least. “I have to hurry, or I’ll be late opening the store.”
“Go on and get ready; I’ll clean up in here.” He stood too, but halted her departure with a hard hand on her waist. “Sarah, understand one thing: An argument doesn’t mean your life is going to be torn apart. I was worried last night when I couldn’t find you, and I blew up. That’s all there was to it.”
Her eyes were bottomless pools of green, and she stood motionless under his hand. If he wanted to think that was why she’d been so upset, let him. Better that than his knowing that he could hurt her deeply just because she loved him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Their life together settled into a routine, defined by the mundane details that gave things a sense of continuity; no matter what else, there was always laundry, and cooking, and cleaning. He did as much as she did in the housework department, when he was there, but he was often gone, and when he wasn’t there, she threw herself into work, trying to fill the emptiness that came from his absence. He didn’t call her every night when he was on a business trip; he always gave her the number where he could be reached if she needed him, and he invariably called her if he was delayed, or to tell her when he’d be home, but other than that she had no contact with him. She understood, though she missed hearing his voice, if nothing else. What could they say to each other every night? She couldn’t tell him how much she missed him, how the time dragged while he was gone, how much she loved him, because he didn’t want to know that. It was much safer not to talk to him except when necessary; she’d simply wait until he came home, and his initial sexual urgency would give her the chance to hold him, to silently give him the love that had been building up in her. She always knew what to expect from Rome when he returned from a trip; he walked through the door ready to fall on her like a starving man falling on a feast.
When she let herself think about it, she admitted to herself that, while he did like her and to some extent care for her, she still hadn’t replaced Diane in his heart. Their love life was fantastic: He was an experienced, virile lover, and she could never say that sex with him was routine. He often took her wherever they were at the time, not bothering to take her to the bedroom, and that more than anything told her that he still grieved for Diane. He preferred that their lovemaking be out of the bed. When the demands of his work forced him to come home late, after she was already in bed, then he’d come to her there, but when the act was finished, he always left. He’d hold her and pet her, waiting for her to go to sleep before he went, but she always sensed his uneasiness and had begun to feign sleep so he’d feel free to slip from her bed. When the door had closed behind him, she’d open her eyes and lie there, feeling the desolation of knowing herself unloved. Sometimes she couldn’t prevent herself from crying, but for the most part she kept the tears at bay; they solved nothing, and she had a terror of him hearing her weeping in the night.
Still, there was a lot of contentment in their life together. Cool autumn became winter, and there were cozy nights in front of the fire, watching television; other times, she read while he worked. There were shared lazy breakfasts, and cold, sunny Sundays when they watched the Cowboys play football. If he was at home, he went with her to the store every Saturday, and he and Derek became good friends.
Shortly before Christmas Sarah broached the subject of Derek’s future with him. Derek was brilliant; it would be a shame if his potential was limited by lack of money. They’d become close enough that Rome caught her drift immediately.
“Do you want me to put him through college?”
“That would be nice,” she admitted, giving him a sparkling smile. “But I don’t think Derek would stand for it. He’s very proud,” she said thoughtfully. “But if you could arrange for a full scholarship from some foundation that won’t limit his choice of college, I think he’d jump at that.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?” Rome observed wryly. “I’ll see what I can do. I think Max will have to be brought in on it; he’s got some connections through his family that could be helpful.”
Max had become a fairly frequent visitor, and though he never stopped teasing Rome about taking Sarah away from him, their marriage had made all the difference in the world in the way Rome reacted. He’d won, and he knew it. Max’s heart wasn’t broken; nor would he try in any way to undermine his friend’s marriage. He frankly admired Sarah and saw no harm in letting her husband know it, and that was the extent of it.
When Rome decided to get something accomplished, he didn’t wait around. The next day Max just happened to show up at the store with Rome; Sarah saw the stunned look in Max’s vivid eyes when he was introduced to Derek. Derek had that effect on people. In a few moments, Max wandered over to Sarah and whispered, “Rome’s lying, isn’t he? Derek’s twenty-five if he’s a day.”
“He was sixteen last month,” Sarah whispered in return, smiling in amusement. “Isn’t he something?”
“He’s bloody impressive, is what he is. Give him wings and a sword, and he’s my image of the archangel Michael. Tell him to decide which college he wants, and when the time comes, Rome and I will see to it that he gets a full scholarship.”
Sarah told Marcie what Rome and Max were planning, and to her surprise, the other woman burst into tears. “You don’t know what it means to both of us,” she sobbed. “He’s such a special kid, and it’s been breaking my heart for him to have to work to save the money for college, instead of having a good time the way he should be doing. This is the best Christmas present you could have given me!”
With the approaching Christmas season, Sarah’s business was booming—so much so that she had to hire someone full-time just to help her wait on customers. Rome was all for the idea; he hadn’t liked Sarah being there alone during the day until Derek got out of school. She hired a young neighborhood woman whose youngest child had started school that term, and who wanted out of the house. It worked out nicely. Erica would leave shortly before her children were due in from school, and Derek usually arrived within the half-hour. Having Erica there during the day also gave Sarah an opportunity to have lunch, which had been limited to grabbing a bite from a sandwich between waiti
ng on customers, when she’d been by herself.
Three days before Christmas she arrived home to find that Rome was already there; when she reached his bedroom door, she stopped, staring at the open suitcase on his bed.
He turned from the dresser where he’d been taking out a selection of underwear and shirts. He looked at her wryly. “Emergency. We have a hell of a mess in Chicago.”
She wanted to protest, to make the traditional wife’s lament of “Why can’t someone else go?” but she bit the words back, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the hassle. “When will you be back?” she asked, going into the room and dropping down to sit on his bed, sighing in resignation.
“I’m not hanging around up there; I’ve already booked the red-eye flight back. I should be getting in about four A.M. on the twenty-fourth.”
“Well, all right,” she grumbled, and for the first time in their marriage she pouted. He dropped a stack of shirts into the suitcase and looked at her sulky face. Her pouting lower lip gave her face an unexpected sensuality, as if she were begging to be kissed, and more. He grinned suddenly, and shoved the suitcase to one side.
Sarah was unprepared, and she gasped in surprise when he tumbled her back across the bed. He gave her a slow wicked smile as he bent over her and pushed her skirt to her waist, then calmly stripped away her underwear. She gasped again, this time with the instantaneous excitement that rose in her whenever he touched her. “Is this to tide you over?” she murmured teasingly, her eyes bright.