The Dream (Crosslyn Rise Trilogy)

by Barbara Delinsky

  He was going to have to give her plenty of that, she mused a short time later. They sat on stools at the kitchen counter, eating the pizza that had just been delivered. Though it was a mundane act, she’d never done anything so cataclysmic. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting there with Carter Malloy, that she was wearing nothing under his shirt, that she’d worn even less not long before.

  Carter Malloy. It boggled her mind. Carter Malloy.

  “What is it?” he asked with a perplexed half smile.

  She blushed. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she studied a piece of pizza crust. “I’m very … surprised that I’m here.”

  “You shouldn’t be. We’ve been building toward this for a while.”

  He was right, but she wasn’t thinking of the recent past. “I’m thinking farther back. I really hated you when I was little.” She dared him a look and was struck at once by his handsomeness. “You’re so different. You look so different. You act so different. It’s hard to believe that a person can change so much.”

  “We all have to grow up.”

  “Some people don’t. Some people just get bigger. You’ve really changed.” Studying him, she was lured on by the openness of his features. “What about before Vietnam? I can understand how your experience there could shape your future, but what about your past? Why were you the way you were? It couldn’t have been the money factor alone. What was it all about?”

  Thoughtfully pursing his lips, Carter looked down at his hands. His mouth relaxed, but he didn’t look up. “The money thing was a scapegoat. It was a convenient one, maybe even a valid one on some levels. Since my parents worked at Crosslyn Rise, we lived in town, and that town happens to be one of the wealthiest in the state. So I went to school with kids who had ten times more than me. From the very start, I was different. They all knew each other from kindergarten. I was a social outcast from the beginning, and it was a self-perpetuating thing. I was never easy to get along with.”

  “But why? If you were still that way, I’d say that it was a genetic thing that you couldn’t control. But you’re easy enough to get along with now, and you don’t seem to be suffering doing it. So if it wasn’t genetic, it had to come from outside you. Some of it may have come from antagonism in school, but if you were that way when you first enrolled, it had to come from your family. That’s what I don’t understand. Annie and Michael were always wonderful, easygoing people.”

  “You weren’t their son,” Carter said with a sharpness reminiscent of a similar comment he’d made once before.

  Not for a minute did Jessica feel that the sharpness was directed at her. He was thinking back to his childhood. She could see the discomfort in his eyes. “What was it like?” she asked, needing to understand him as intimately as possible.

  “Stifling.”

  “With Annie and Michael?” she asked in disbelief.

  “They loved me to bits,” he explained. “I was their pride and joy, their hope for the future. I was going to be everything they weren’t, and from the earliest they told me so. I’m not sure that I understood what it all meant at the time, but when I was slow doing things, they pushed me. I didn’t like being pushed—I still don’t, so maybe that’s a biological trait after all. I stayed in the terrible-two stage for lots of years, and by that time, a pattern had been set. My parents were always on top of me, so I did whatever I could to thwart them. I think I was hoping that at some point they’d just give up on me.”

  “But they never did.”

  “No,” he said quietly. “They never did. They were always loyal and supportive.” He looked at her then. “Do you know how much pressure that can put on a person?”

  Jessica was beginning to see it. “They kept hoping for the best and you kept disappointing them.”

  “By the time I was a teenager, I had a reputation of being tough. That hurt my parents, too. People would look at them with pity, wondering how they ever managed to have a son like me.”

  She remembered thinking the same thing herself, and not too long before. “They are such quiet, gentle people.”

  Again Carter looked away, pursing his lips. He felt guilty criticizing his parents, yet he wanted Jessica to know the truth, at least as he saw it. “Too quiet and gentle. Especially my dad.”

  “You would have liked him to be stronger with you?”

  “With me, with anyone. He wasn’t strong, period.”

  It occurred to Jessica that she’d never thought one way or another about Michael Malloy’s strength. “In what sense?”

  “As a man. My mother ran the house. She did everything. I can’t remember a time when Dad doted on her, when he stood up for her, when he bought her a gift. The only thing he ever did was the gardening.”

  “Do you think she resented that?”

  “Not really. I think it suited her purposes. She liked being the one in control.” He took a minute to consider what he’d said. “So maybe when I use the word ‘stifling’ I should be using the word ‘controlling.’ In her own quiet way, my mother was the most controlling woman I’ve ever met. That was what I spent my childhood rebelling against—that, and the fact that my father never once opened his mouth to complain when, in her own gentle way, she ran roughshod over him.”

  He grew quiet, then looked down. “Lousy of me to be bad-mouthing them, when I treated them so poorly, huh?”

  “You’re not bad-mouthing them. You’re just explaining what you felt when you were growing up.”

  He met her gaze. “Does it make any sense?”

  “I think so. I always thought of Annie as, yes, gentle and quiet, but also efficient. Very efficient. She definitely took control of things in our house. I can understand how ‘taking control’ could become ‘controlling’ in her own house. And Michael was always gentle and quiet … just … gentle and quiet. That was what I liked about him. He was always pleasant, always smiled. For me, that was a treat.”

  “It used to drive me wild. I’d do anything just to rile him.”

  “Did you manage?”

  Carter smirked. “Not often. And he’s still like that. Still quiet and gentle. I doubt he’ll ever change.”

  Jessica was relieved to hear the fondness in his voice. “You’ve accepted him, then?”

  “Of course. He’s my father.”

  “And you’re close to him now?”

  “Close? I don’t know, close. We talk regularly on the phone, but for every five minutes Dad’s on, Mom’s on for ten. I suppose it’s just as well. They like to hear what I’m doing, but I’m not sure they appreciate the details.” He gave an ironic smile. “I’ve finally made it, just like they wanted me to, but that means my world is very different from theirs.”

  “Are they happy?”

  “In Florida? Yes.”

  “For you?”

  “Very.” His smile was sheepish this time. “Of course, they don’t know why I have a partner, since I can do so much better by myself. And they don’t know why I’m not married.”

  Jessica knew they’d be pleased if Carter ever told them he loved her, but she prayed he wouldn’t do that. To tie their hopes to something that would never go anywhere was a waste. Even if Carter did believe that he loved her, he’d see the truth once he got back to his normal, everyday life. The fewer people who knew of the night he’d spent playing at being in love, the better.

  * * *

  Jessica returned to Crosslyn Rise on Friday, soon after Carter left for work. She wanted to immerse herself in her own world, to push the events of Thursday night to the back of her mind.

  That was easier said than done, because after dinner, they’d gone back to bed. Time and again during the night, they’d made love, and while Jessica never once initiated the passion, she took an increasingly aggressive part in it. That gave her more to think about than ever.

  She seemed to bloom in Carter’s arms. Looking back on some of the things she’d done, she shocked herself. She
, who had never hungered for another man, had lusted for his body, and she couldn’t even say that he taught her what to do. Impulses had just … come. She had wanted to touch him, so she had. She had wanted to taste him, so she had.

  And he hadn’t complained. Every so often, when she’d caught herself doing something daring, she’d paused, but in each case he had urged her on. In each case his pleasure had been obvious, which made her feel all the freer.

  Freer. Free. Yes, she had felt that, and it was the strangest thing of all. Making love to Carter, even well after that first pent-up desire had been slaked, was a relief. With each successive peak she reached, she felt more relaxed. It was almost as if she’d done just what he had once accused her of doing—spent years and years denying her instincts, so that now she felt the sheer joy of letting them out.

  She fought the idea of that. Once discovered, the passion in her wouldn’t be as easily tucked away again—which was just fine, as long as Carter stayed with her. But she couldn’t count on that happening. In the broad light of a Crosslyn Rise day, she had too many strikes against her.

  She was plain. She was boring. She was broke.

  Carter was just the opposite. He was on his way up in the world, and he would make it. She knew that now. She also knew that he didn’t need someone like her weighing him down.

  That was one of the reasons why, when he called at four to say that he was leaving the office and would be at Crosslyn Rise within the hour, she told him not to come.

  9

  “Why not?” Carter asked, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

  “I just think that I ought to get some work done.”

  “You’ve had all day to do that.”

  “Well, I slept for some of the day, and I didn’t concentrate well for the rest.”

  He didn’t have to ask why on either score. “So give it up for today. You won’t get much done anyway.”

  “I’d like to try.”

  “Try tomorrow. We agreed on dinner tonight.”

  “I know, but I’m not very hungry.”

  “Not now. But it’ll be an hour before I get there, another hour before we get to a restaurant and get served.” He paused, then scolded, “You’re avoiding the issue. Come on, Jessica. Spit it out.”

  “There’s nothing to spit out. I’d just rather stay home tonight.”

  “Okay. We’ll stay home.”

  He was being difficult, she knew, and that frustrated her. “I’d rather be alone.”

  “You would not. You’re just scared because everything that happened last night was sudden and strong.”

  “I’m not scared,” she protested. “But I need time, Carter.”

  “Like hell you do,” he replied, and slammed down the phone.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, he careened up the driveway and slammed on his brakes. He was out of the car in a flash, taking the steps two at a time, and he might well have pounded the door down had not Jessica been right there to haul it open after his first fierce knock.

  “You have no right to race out here this way,” she cried, taking the offensive before he could. She was wearing a shirt and jeans, looking as plain as she could, and as angry. “This is my house, my life. If I say that I want to spend my evening alone, that’s what I want to do!”

  Hands cocked low on his hips, Carter held his ground. “Why? Give me one good reason why you want to be alone.”

  “I don’t have to give you a reason. All I have to say is yes or no.”

  “This morning you said yes. What happened between now and then to make you change your mind?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What happened, Jessica?”

  “Nothing!”

  His brown eyes narrowed. “You started thinking, didn’t you? You started thinking about all the reasons why I can’t possibly feel the way I say I do about you. You came back to this place, and suddenly last night was an aberration. A fluke. A lie. Well, it wasn’t, Jessica. It isn’t. I loved you then, and I love you now, and you can say whatever stupid things you want, but you can’t change my mind.”

  “Then you’re the fool, because I don’t want to get involved.”

  “Baloney.” His eyes bore into hers, alive with a fire that was only barely tempered in his voice. “You want a husband, and you want kids. You can pretend that you don’t, and maybe it used to work, but it won’t work now. Because, whether you like it or not, you are involved. You can’t forget what happened last night.”

  “What an arrogant thing to say!”

  “Not arrogant. Realistic, and mutual. I can’t forget it, either. I want to do it again.”

  “You’re a sex fiend.”

  His voice grew tighter, reflecting the strain on his patience. “Sex had nothing to do with what we did. That was lovemaking, Jessica. We made love, because we are in love. If you don’t want to admit it, fine. I can wait. But I’m going to say it whenever I want. I love you.”

  “You do not,” she scoffed, and pushed up her glasses.

  “I love you.”

  “You may think you do, but give yourself a little time, and you’ll come to your senses. You don’t love me. You can’t possibly love me.”

  “Why not?” He took a step toward her, and his voice was as ominous as his look. “Because you’re not pretty? Because you lie like a sack of potatoes in my bed? Because you’re a bookworm?”

  “It’s Crosslyn Rise that you love.”

  He eyed her as though she were crazy. “Crosslyn Rise is some land and a house. It’s not warm flesh and blood like me.”

  “But you love it, you associate me with it, hence you think you love me.”

  “Brilliant deduction, Professor, but wrong. You’re losing Crosslyn Rise. There’s no reason why I would align myself with you if the Rise is what I want.”

  She took a different tack. “Then it’s the money. If this project goes through, you’ll be making some money. So you’re confusing the issues. You feel good about the money, so you feel good about me.”

  “I don’t want the money that bad,” he said with a curt laugh. “If you were a loser, no amount of money would lure me into your bed.”

  “What a crass thing to say!”

  “It’s the truth. And it should say something about my feelings for you. We did it last night more times than I’ve ever done it in a single night before. My muscles are killing me. Still I want more. Every time I think of you I get hard.”

  She pressed her hands to her ears, because his words alone could excite her. Only when his mouth remained still did she lower her hands and say very slowly, “Revenge is a potent aphrodisiac.”

  “Revenge. What in the hell are you talking about?”

  She tipped up her chin. “This is the ultimate revenge, isn’t it? For all those years when I had everything you wanted?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asked, and for the first time there was an element of pain in his voice. “Didn’t you hear a word I said last night? Didn’t any of it sink in—any of the stuff about Vietnam or my parents? I’ve never told anyone else about those things. Was it wasted on you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I didn’t get through. You wanted to know what caused me to change over the years, and I told you, but I didn’t get through.” He paused, and the pain was replaced by a sudden dawning. “Or was that what frightened you most, because for the first time you could believe that the change was for real?” He took a step closer. “Is that it? For the first time you had to admit that I might, just might be the kind of guy you’d want to spend the rest of your life with, and that scares you.” He took another step forward. Jessica matched it with one back. “Huh?” he goaded. “Is that it?”

  “No. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with any man.”

  “Because of your ex-husband? Because of what he did?”

  She took another step back as he advanced. “Tom and I are divorced. What he did is over and done.”

  “It still haunts y
ou.”

  “Not enough to shape my future.” She kept moving back.

  “But you don’t trust me. That’s the crux of the problem. You don’t trust that I’m on the level and that I won’t hurt you the way that selfish bastard did. Damn it, Jessica, how can I prove to you that I mean what I say if you won’t see me?”

  “I don’t want you to prove anything,” she said, but her heels had reached the first riser of the stairs. When he kept coming, she sat down on the steps.

  “Okay.” He put one hand flat on the tread by her hip. “I’ll admit things have happened quickly. If you want time, I’ll give you time. I won’t rush you into anything, especially something as important as marriage.” He put his other hand by her other hip. His voice lowered. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “But I won’t stand off in the distance or out of sight, either. I can’t do that. I need to see you. I need to be with you.”

  Jessica wanted to argue, but she was having trouble thinking with him so close. She could see the details of the five-o’clock shadow that he hadn’t had time to shave, could feel the heat of his large body, could smell the musky scent that was his alone. He looked sincere. He sounded sincere. She wanted to believe him … so … badly.

  His mouth touched hers, and she was lost. Memory of the night before returned in a storm of sensation so strong that she was swept up in it and whirled around. She had to wrap her arms around his waist to keep herself anchored to something real, and then it wasn’t memory that entranced her, but the sensual devouring of his mouth.

  Over and over he kissed her, dueling with her lips for supremacy in much the same way they’d argued, though neither seemed to care who won, and, in fact, both did. When her glasses fogged up, he took them off and set them aside. Pressing her back on the stairs, he touched her breasts, then slid his fingers between the buttons of her shirt to reach bareness. When that failed to satisfy his craving, he unbuttoned the shirt and unhooked her bra, but no sooner had he exposed her flesh than she brushed the back of her hand over the rigid display on the front of his slacks.