Love Notes

by Savannah Kade

  She made it through handing Amy over at the end of the visit. She couldn’t ask TJ to drive, so she managed to keep it together on the way home. He asked her a few more questions when they got in, but she was exhausted from being so tense all evening, and upset that it had been so hard to hand Amy back. So she told him good-night and closed her door.

  She dreamed of Jordan’s blue eyes, so like her own. She dreamed of his small giggle. She felt his little hand curl into hers as she walked ahead pulling him along and not paying enough attention to him. And she woke up as red-eyed as she went to sleep.

  Norah showered and tried to hide her yawns. Mostly she tried to ignore TJ and his questions. By noon he had given up asking them, as she had successfully avoided him most of the morning.

  Until she heard a loud, horrid chord and something that was a cross between an off-tune ping and a sharp twang. It could only be a guitar string breaking.

  Norah headed into the living room, wondering what he’d done.

  Sure enough, he sat in a dining room chair, facing away from the table, the guitar clenched so hard she was surprised it was only a string that had snapped. The offending wire stood out at both ends in bent escape.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I still can’t play. I’ve been working my fingers, trying to make them respond, but they don’t move separately. I thought maybe I could get some sound out of it even with these hands, but I can’t.”

  Norah didn’t comment. She understood that his definition of ‘sound’ was different than other people’s.

  As he set the guitar aside, she saw that she was a fool. She’d watched him play in his sleep yesterday and never realized that his fingers had moved individually. Apparently, he hadn’t realized it either. “TJ, you can play.”

  “No, I can’t. Not yet anyway.”

  “You can. I—” She didn’t know why she didn’t tell him what she had seen.

  “You what?”

  “I know you can.” How did she get TJ to let his fingers work? It had to be some kind of mental block, because he’d done it while asleep. The nerves had to be connected. “I’ll bet you they work.”

  “You’re going to bet me what?”

  “Five hundred dollars.”

  “Norah.”

  “Five hundred dollars says your fingers work.”

  He held up his hand and twitched the fingers for her. The final three moved only in concert. “They don’t. You lose.”

  “Funny.” She frowned at him, glad for something to distract her from the big hit of baby lust that had swamped her last night. “I have twenty-four hours to make your fingers work. I win, you owe me five hundred dollars. I lose, I pay you.”

  His brows raised. “This is a bet? If I win, I get money, which, to be honest, I couldn’t give a crap about. But if you win, my fingers work. I’m in.”

  Her mind was occupied for the rest of the day. She tried everything. She made him chop vegetables. She made him try braiding ribbons. She set him at the table and made him mock playing the piano. Nothing worked.

  He either failed at the task or did it exceptionally well—using only his first two fingers. He was thoroughly disheartened, and so was she. He knew she didn’t really have five hundred dollars to spare. She just had to figure out how to make it happen.

  They both went to bed frustrated.

  In the middle of the night Norah woke up. She knew how she’d do it, and she laughed.

  Chapter 14

  TJ sank down on the couch. It was pretty obvious that Norah had given up on his hands. She’d seemed sure enough to make him wonder what she knew. But nothing last evening worked and she hadn’t even given him any silly tasks this morning.

  The problem was, she didn’t seem upset. He would have wondered what she had up her sleeve, except she didn’t have any sleeves on. It looked like some old dance top, and it was slit right down the middle to exactly between her breasts. He kept getting glimpses, thinking that at any moment she might come entirely out of that shirt. It distracted him, but still, five hundred dollars wasn’t going to cut it. Seeing Norah naked might begin to ease his pain. She wasn’t as chesty as the girls he usually chose, but then again, she was Norah. She wasn’t just a set of breasts. Although he had to admit that, if she were, they were damned near perfectly formed.

  Maybe he was just suffering a severe case of wanting to celebrate the return of his johnson. He hollered out, “Hey, Norah. What’s the likelihood of me being able to find a woman willing to have a go-round with a guy in a chair?”

  She appeared in the doorway between the living room and dining room holding a dishtowel and laughing. “Pretty good. Women are more sympathetic to men in wheelchairs than vise versa. Add in that you’re rich, famous, and good-looking and you won’t have to go far.”

  “What about you, Norah? Would you do a guy in a chair?”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt his face flush beet red. He had meant the question as simply a matter of would she? not would she with him? At least he thought he’d meant it that way. It sure wasn’t how it sounded coming out of his mouth.

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, knowing that if his legs worked, he would have been long gone by now. Instead he was stuck here with his eyes shut tight.

  He heard her laugh. His breath let out a notch. At least she wasn’t horribly offended.

  TJ let his eyes open a crack, and sure enough she was laughing at him. And walking closer.

  “You’re blushing. Maybe you are a good Catholic boy under there.”

  He felt another wash of color climb his face. “I haven’t been a good Catholic boy since I-don’t-know-when.”

  His eyes opened all the way so he could apologize, but she had a funny look on her face. It was a grin, a wicked grin, and he didn’t know where to place it.

  “So,” that single word in her soft tones held a world of weight. “You want to find out if I would?”

  All thoughts fled as she planted first one knee then the other on either side of him. Instantly turned on, he reached up, grabbing her hips to hold her there. His hands looked large on her delicate structure, and they spanned almost the whole width of the small skirt she was wearing.

  She laughed again, “So find out.”

  Jesus.

  He grabbed her behind her neck to pull her down for a kiss, but she refused him, pulling against his hand. Instead she wrapped her fingers around his palm and turned it away from him. In a move he would never have seen coming in a million years, she led his hand under her skirt and tucked his fingers inside the band of what he could just see was lacy, blue underwear.

  TJ needed no further instructions.

  He pushed his hand down to where he could feel what she was offering. She was warm and soft, and as he touched her his fingers flooded with wetness. Her hips moved, bringing her closer and pushing her against his fingertips. He was certain he was going to bust the zipper on his jeans.

  Because he didn’t want to stop, and because Norah didn’t seem to want him to, he slid one finger inside her. He barely noticed that her hands found his shoulders for balance. He definitely noticed the sigh he forced out of her throat, and that she pushed against him again.

  “More.”

  With a ragged breath, he obliged.

  He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt this. This desire that sucked the air from him and demanded every ounce of his attention. Reaching up with his free hand, he slipped his fingers around the back of her head, trying again to kiss her.

  Again, she refused, this time rolling her head, and forcing his focus to where his hand joined her. Her hand snaked down, covering his. Through the thin layer of lace she gave him instructions on exactly how she wanted him to touch her. The sounds that she made told him he’d done it correctly.

  Nothing had ever been quite as right.

  Then she smiled at him, and grabbed his hand, pulling it out of her underwear and away from the heaven they’d both enjoyed. TJ awaited his nex
t set of instructions while his lungs labored.

  Norah leaned in close. “You are very good at that.”

  He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He just waited.

  She stepped away, planting her feet on the floor and letting go of him. He waited for her to peel away her shirt or her underwear. But she did neither.

  With a deep breath in, she focused and her eyes cleared. “And you owe me five hundred dollars.”

  “For a feel!?!?” It was out of his mouth before he could think. Not that he was able to think at all. She’d completely addled his brain, then stepped away and demanded money.

  “Your fingers work.” Norah fled the room.

  He heard her in her own bedroom then slamming out the back door. He figured she’d gone off riding on her horse, but TJ just stared at his fingers. The tips were still wet, and he knew with what. Somehow, now that he’d done it, he was able to move each finger in turn. But he wasn’t so interested in how he’d been moving them as where.

  It had been a while for him. Though he had hit his head in the accident, he hadn’t gone stupid. She’d been hot for him, then she stood up and stepped away. No qualms. She’d apparently been able to turn it off at will. So maybe she could turn it on the same way. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him.

  She was a self-proclaimed slut. Then again so was he. But he’d been far more involved in this one act than in many other times he’d had full-on down-and-dirty sex.

  And her being a slut didn’t match anything he knew of her. She taught dance to school-girls. She was a prima ballerina, though he guessed that didn’t preclude being promiscuous. She had been nothing but friendly before this, in all the time she’d spent here. She hadn’t been leading him on, hadn’t made any suggestive remarks or gestures. At least not until today.

  And today didn’t match the woman last night who’d held his niece with such tenderness and tears in her eyes. It didn’t match the woman who lived with her father when she wasn’t here.

  He looked at his functioning fingers again. At least when she’d said he owed her money it was like throwing ice water on him. It was his own damned fault, too—he’d asked her if she’d do a guy in a chair.

  He could play guitar now—piano, too, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d been convinced that any case where he lost the bet was going to leave him pleased as peaches. Man, had he been wrong.

  With a resigned sigh, he hauled himself into his chair and went off to get the cash. He left it on her pillow, and wondered if he needed a note with it. He thought maybe just ‘you win,’ but she already knew that.

  Chapter 15

  When Norah returned that evening, she came in through the back door. Strains of guitar music came from the living room. He must have re-strung it. Aside from a minor miss here or there, usually followed by a soft swear word, it was sweet sounding.

  She was sweaty and grubby from riding Thunder, and some part of her knew she was hungry. But she was more sick to her stomach than anything. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Just that it would make his fingers work. But that was TJ, for god’s sake.

  Ultimately, he hadn’t looked all that happy about finding out his fingers worked fine. She’d played him for a fool when she really hadn’t meant to. Somehow in her twisted logic last night, she’d thought it would all be detached, and it would feel good, and he would be happy.

  Instead, it felt better than good, and she felt it more than just where he’d touched her. And it wasn’t detached. She didn’t even know why she’d kept refusing to kiss him. Except . . .

  She ignored the thought pestering her brain and decided instead to head for the shower. She turned on the water and peeled out of her clothes. TJ had to hear the water running, had to know she was back. But she focused instead on washing away what she’d done and how to make it right.

  When she got dressed, she noticed the money on her pillow, and wondered if he’d put it there while she was showering. So he had, in essence, paid her for ‘a feel’ as he’d so eloquently put it.

  Glad that she could still hear him playing in the living room, she grabbed the wad of cash and padded softly down the hall, practically sneaking into his room. She had a perfectly good excuse to be in there but didn’t want to get caught. Not because she was doing anything wrong, but because she didn’t want to face him. She just wasn’t ready. She considered leaving a note with the money, and instead just folded it and left it on his pillow, like he’d left it on hers. He’d understand.

  She managed to avoid him for the rest of the night. Then did pretty well avoiding him the following morning, too. She appeared just in time to take him to therapy, and they both stayed quiet the whole way there. She returned just in time to hear his therapist say that he’d attacked the job today. TJ looked like he’d run a marathon, and maybe he had.

  That only made her feel worse. He was pissed, and he had every right to be. They drove home in more silence, then he showered before passing out for a while. When he emerged, she headed for her room and read a magazine until she bored herself to sleep.

  The next day went much the same. Again he attacked therapy, again she left him to attack it alone. He was silent but a little more relaxed on the way home.

  Only several hours later, he actually came to hunt her down. She was in the back room online ordering dance shoes, something that usually made her excited. She enjoyed seeing the new technology and what you could do with a simple leather ballet slipper. But she’d been walking through the photos, not finding anything of interest, and knowing full well why.

  “Norah.”

  She straightened. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d said her name. “What?”

  He started with a sigh. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Okay.” That was easy. But she got the impression that he wasn’t finished.

  “That wasn’t fair.”

  Her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth turned down, but she couldn’t face him. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “If you wanted to know if you can turn me on, congratulations you can.”

  “No, that wasn’t it.”

  “Then what?”

  She needed a deep breath. “I saw your fingers moving while you were asleep on the couch. You were playing guitar in your sleep.” She still didn’t have the guts to turn and face him. “So I figured they worked but you were just too caught up in making them work. That’s why I bet you. I knew you could do it.”

  He waited. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

  “I figured if I could disengage your brain then you’d do it. I thought if I just . . . well, clearly I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know. Not my best moment.” She paused, still not looking at him. “Can you forgive me?”

  “Can you answer a question for me?”

  Norah could hear that he was pretty close behind her so she gave up and turned around. Answering a question was the least she could do. “What?”

  “Want to go out for dinner?” He turned the chair and wheeled away.

  “That’s the question?” God he was confusing, but she probably deserved it.

  He laughed. “Actually, no. But neither of us has cooked anything, and I’m starving. I want a huge bowl of pasta.”

  “That sounds good.” As if to punctuate her statement, her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten much these past two days, she’d been so upset over what she’d done.

  “So come on. You’re driving.”

  She had to laugh at that. She pulled on shoes and followed him to the car. He was able to ride in her sedan now that they could take the fold-up chair. He easily levered himself into the passenger seat, and not for the first time she admired the flex and play of his muscles under his skin. He was a strong man. In more ways than one.

  Just like that, they found their rhythm again.

  They talked and laughed throughout dinner. TJ was true to his prediction and ate every last piece of food brought to him. He even managed to joke wh
en she pointed it out. “Yeah, well, I had some frustrations to work out during therapy today.”

  But he didn’t seem angry about it.

  Only later when they were sitting on the couch and he had clicked off the TV did he ask her his question. He warned her he was about to do it, but that was all the warm-up she got.

  “You said you were a slut, but especially after the other day I really don’t see it.”

  “Really? I thought that was actually rather slutty of me.”

  He laughed. “A real slut would have followed it through. Did you just take after Lilah?”

  She shook her head. And started at the beginning. “So I mentioned I had this crush on JD?”

  “Yes.” He was exasperated, “I know you had this huge crush on JD.”

  “Well, that ended when I was sixteen. I met Jeff. He was my first boyfriend.” Her heart ached just remembering. “I know most people look back on their first loves and realize that they weren’t really in love at all. But not us. We really were. Even at sixteen. We just always knew we’d get married.

  “Our parents had plans for us, at ivy league schools, but we both paid out of our savings to apply to several schools in Texas where we could both get scholarships together. We knew if we went, our folks were likely to cut us off. So when I turned up pregnant right before graduation we just figured it was fate. We were both eighteen, so we went down to the courthouse and got married. I’d gotten myself the best white dress I could afford, and figured I’d surprise him by showing up in it. But he’d shown up in a tux and surprised me. We went to A&M, and Jordan was born right in the middle of Christmas break.”

  TJ just listened. He wasn’t asking any questions, so she continued.

  “I’d always been the good girl. Lilah was the one they’d had to rein in. So I think they’d told themselves it wasn’t true when I said I was married and pregnant and going to a state school.” She let out a little laugh. “I don’t know which of the three was worst.