by Nora Roberts
wax, potpourri and fresh flowers. Bunches of spring blossoms were spilling from a collection of vases that ran from dime-store pottery to Meissen.
There was an umbrella stand in the shape of a stork that was filled with ostrich and peacock feathers. A pair of boxing gloves hung in the corner behind the door.
“I guess you’d class as a featherweight,” Booth mused.
Ariel followed his gaze and smiled. “They were my brother’s. He boxed in high school. Want a drink?” Before he could answer, she took the bag from him, then headed down a hallway.
“A little Scotch and water.” When he turned, his attention and his senses were struck by a wall of paintings. They were hers, of course. Who else would paint with that kind of kinetic energy, verve and disregard for rules? There were splotches of color, lines of it, zigzags. Moving closer, Booth decided that while he wouldn’t call them terrible, he wasn’t quite sure what he’d call them. Vivid, eccentric, disturbing. Certainly they weren’t paintings to relax by. They showed both flair and heedlessness, and whether she’d intended them to or not they suited the room to perfection.
As he continued to study the paintings, three cats came into the room. Two were hardly more than kittens, coal-black and amber-eyed. They dashed around his legs once before they made a beeline for the kitchen. The other was a huge tiger who managed to walk with stiff dignity on three legs. Booth could hear Ariel laugh and say something to the two cats who had found her. The tiger watched Booth with quiet patience.
“Scotch and water.” Ariel came back in, barefoot, carrying two glasses.
Booth accepted the glass, then gestured with it. “Those must be some kinks you work out.”
Ariel glanced toward her paintings. “Looks like it, doesn’t it? Saves money on a therapist—though I shouldn’t say that since I play the role of one.”
“You’ve quite a place here.”
“I learned that I thrive on confusion.” Laughing up at him, she sipped. “You’ve met Butch, I see.” She bent and slid one hand over the tiger’s back. He arched, letting out a rumble of a purr. “Keats and Shelley were the rude ones. They’re having their dinner.”
“I see.” Booth glanced down to see Butch rub against Ariel’s leg before he waddled over to the sofa and leaped onto a cushion. “Don’t you find it difficult tending three cats in a city apartment while dealing with a demanding profession?”
She only smiled. “No. I’m going to start the grill.”
Booth lifted a brow. “Where?”
“Why, on the terrace.” Ariel walked over and slid open a door. Outside was a postage-stamp balcony more along the lines of a window ledge. She’d crammed pots of geraniums and a tiny charcoal grill on it.
“The terrace,” Booth murmured over her shoulder. Only an incurable optimist or a hopeless dreamer would have termed it so. He found himself grateful she had. Laughing, he leaned against the doorjamb.
After straightening from the grill, Ariel stared at him. The sound of his laughter whispered along her skin and eased her mind. “Well, well. That’s very nice. Do you know that’s the first time since I’ve met you that you’ve laughed and meant it?”
Booth shrugged and sipped at his Scotch. “I suppose I’m out of practice.”
“We’ll soon fix that,” Ariel said. She smiled, holding her hand out, palm up. “Got a match?”
Booth reached in his pocket, but something—perhaps the humor in her eyes—changed his mind. Stepping forward, he took her shoulders and lowered his mouth to hers.
He’d caught her off guard. Ariel hadn’t expected him to do anything on impulse, and he’d given no sign of his intention. Before she had time to prepare, the power of the kiss whipped through her, touching the emotions, the senses, then taking over.
It wasn’t a mere touching of lips this time, but a hard, thorough demand that had her wrapped in his arms and trapped against the side of the door. She reached up to take his face in her hands as she gave, unquestioningly, what he sought from her.
There was no gradual smoldering, no experimentation, but a leap of flame so intense and quick it seemed they were already lovers. She felt the instant intimacy and understood it. Her heart was already his; she couldn’t deny him her body.
He felt the need churn and was relieved. It had been long, too long, since he’d more than indifferently wanted a woman. There was nothing indifferent about the passion he felt now. It was hard and clear, like the wind that buffeted him when he sailed. It spelled freedom. Drawing her closer, Booth absorbed it.
He could smell her—that warm, teasing fragrance that seemed to pulse out of her skin. How often had that scent come to him when he’d only thought of her? He remembered her taste. Alluring, giving and again warm. And the feel of her body—slender, soft, with still more warmth. It was that warmth that touched every aspect of her, that promised to fill him. He needed it, though he’d gone for years without knowing it. Perhaps he needed her.
And it was that thought that had him pulling back when he wanted more and more of what she had an abundance of.
Her eyes opened slowly when her mouth was free. Ariel looked directly, unblinkingly at him. This time she saw more than a reflection of self. She saw longings and caution and a glimpse of emotion that stirred her.
“I’ve wanted you to do that,” she murmured.
Booth forced himself to level, forced himself to think past the senses she sent swimming. “I haven’t got anything for you.”
That hurt, but Ariel knew love wasn’t painless. “I think you’re wrong. But then, I have a tendency to rush into things. You don’t.” She took a deep breath and a step back. “Why don’t you light this and I’ll go make a salad?” Without waiting for his answer she turned and walked into the kitchen.
Steady, she ordered herself. She knew she had to be steady to deal with Booth and the feelings he brought to her. He wasn’t a man who would accept a flood of emotion all at once, or the demands that went with it. If she wanted him in her life, she’d have to tread carefully, and at his pace.
He wasn’t nearly as hard and cool as he tried to be, Ariel mused. With a half smile, she began to wash the fresh vegetables. She could tell from his laugh, and from those flickers of amusement in his eyes. And, of course, she was certain she couldn’t have fallen in love with a man without a sense of humor. It pleased her to be able to draw it out of him. The more they were together, the easier it was. She wondered if he knew. Humming, she began to slice an avocado.
Booth watched her from the doorway. A smile lingered on her lips, and her eyes held that light he was growing too used to. She used the kitchen knife with the careless confidence of one who was accustomed to domestic chores. In one easy movement she tossed her hair behind her back.
Why should such a simple scene hold so much appeal for him, he wondered. Just looking at her standing at the sink with her hands full, the water running, he could feel himself relaxing. What was it about her that made him want to put his feet up and his head back? At that moment, he could see himself going to her to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle. He must be going mad.
She knew he was there. Her senses were keen and sharper still where Booth was involved. Keeping her back to him, she continued preparing the salad. “Have any trouble lighting it?”
He lifted a brow. “No.”
“Well, it doesn’t take long to heat up. Hungry?”
“A bit.” He crossed the room to her. He wouldn’t touch her, but he’d get just a little closer.
Smiling, she held up a thin slice of avocado, offering him a bite. Ariel could see the wariness in his eyes as he allowed her to feed him. “I’m never a little hungry,” she told him, finishing off the slice herself. “I’m always starving.”
He’d told himself he wouldn’t touch her, yet he found that the back of his hand was sliding over the side of her face. “Your skin,” he murmured. “It’s beautiful. It looks like porcelain, feels like satin.” His gaze skimmed over her face, over her mouth before
it locked on hers. “I should never have touched you.”
Her heart was pounding. Gentleness. That was unexpected and would undermine her completely. “Why?”
“It leads to more.” His fingers ran slowly down the length of her hair before he dropped his hands. “I haven’t any more. You want something from me,” he murmured.
Her breath trembled out. She’d never realized what a strain it was to hold in your emotions. She’d never tried. “Yes, I do. For now, just some companionship at dinner. That should be easy.”
When she started to turn back to the sink, Booth stopped her. “Nothing about this is going to be easy. If I continue to see you, like this, I’m going to take you to bed.”
It would be easy, so easy, to just go into his arms. But he’d never accept the generosity, and she’d never survive the emptiness. “Booth, I’m a grown woman. If I go to bed with you, it’s my choice.”
He nodded. “Perhaps. I just want to make sure I have one.” He turned and left her alone in the room.
Ariel took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to have it, she decided. No, not any of it. He’d simply have to learn how to cope without the moodiness and tension. Lifting the platter of chops, she went back into the living room.
“Lighten up, DeWitt,” she ordered and caught a glimpse of surprise on his face as she went to the grill. “I have to deal with melodrama and misery in every episode. I don’t let it into my personal life. Fix yourself another drink, sit down and relax.” Ariel set the chops on the grill, added some freshly ground pepper, then walked to the stereo. She switched on jazz, bluesy and mellow.
When she turned around he was still standing, looking at her. “I mean it,” she told him. “I have a firm policy about worrying about what complications might come up. They’re going to happen if you think about it or if you don’t. So why waste your time?”
“Is it that easy for you?”
“Not always. Sometimes I have to work at it.”
Thoughtfully, he drew out a cigarette. “We won’t be good together,” he said after he’d lit it. “I don’t want anyone in my life.”
“Anyone?” She shook her head. “You’re too intelligent to believe a person can live without anyone. Don’t you need friendship, companionship, love?”
Blowing out a stream of smoke, he tried to ignore the twinge the question brought him. He’d spent more than two years convincing himself he didn’t. Why should he just now, so suddenly, realize the fruitlessness of it? “Each one of those things requires something in return that I no longer want to give.”
“Want to give.” Her gaze was thoughtful, her mouth unsmiling. “At least you’re honest in your phrasing. The more I’m around you, the more I realize you never lie to anyone—but yourself.”
“You haven’t been around me enough to know who or what I am.” He crushed out his cigarette and thrust his hands in his pockets. “And you’re much better off that way.”
“I or you?” she countered, then shook her head when he didn’t answer. “You’re letting her make a victim out of you,” Ariel murmured. “I’m surprised.”
His eyes narrowed; the green frosted. “Don’t open closets unless you know what’s inside, Ariel.”
“Too safe.” She preferred the simple anger she felt from him now. With a half laugh, she crossed to him and put her hands on his upper arms. “There’s no fun in life without risks. I can’t function without fun.” Her fingers squeezed, gently. “Look, I enjoy being with you. Is that all right?”
“I’m not sure.” She was pulling him in again, with the lightest of touches. “I’m not sure it is for either of us.”
“Do yourself a favor,” she suggested. “Don’t worry about it for a few days and see what happens.” Rising on her toes, she brushed his mouth in a gesture that was both friendly and intimate. “Why don’t you fix that drink?” she added, grinning. “Because I’m burning the chops.”
Chapter Five
“No, Griff, I won’t discuss my marriage.” Amanda picked up a delft-blue watering can and meticulously tended the plants in her office window. The sun, a product of the sweltering stage lights, poured through the glass.
“Amanda, you can’t keep secrets in small towns. It’s already common knowledge that you and Cameron aren’t living together any longer.”
Beneath the trim, tailored jacket, her shoulders stiffened. “Common knowledge or not, it’s my business.” Keeping her back to him, she examined a bloom on an African violet.
“You’re losing weight, there are shadows under your eyes. Damn it, Mandy, I can’t stand to see you this way.”
She waited a beat, then turned slowly. “I’m fine. I’m capable of handling what needs to be handled.”
Griff gave a short laugh. “Who’d know that better than I do?”
Something flared in her eyes, but her voice was cool and final. “I’m busy, Griff.”
“Let me help you,” he said with sudden, characteristic passion. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Help?” Her voice chilled as she set down the can. “I don’t need any help. Do you think I should confide in you, trust in you after what you did to me?” As she tilted her head, the tiny sapphires in her ears glinted. She shifted on her mark. “The only difference between you and Cameron is that I let you tear up my life. I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Fury burst from him as he grabbed her arm. “You never asked me what Vikki was doing in my room. Not then, and not in all these months. You bounced back quickly, Mandy, and ended up with another man’s ring on your finger.”
“It’s still there,” she said quietly. “So you’d better take your hands off me.”
“Do you think that’s going to stop me now that I know you don’t love him?” Passion, rage, desire—all emanated from his eyes, his voice, his body. “I can look at you and see it,” he went on before she could deny it. “I know what’s inside you like no one else does. So handle it.” He dragged his hands through her hair and dislodged pins. The camera dollied closer. “And handle this.”
Pulling her against him, Griff crushed her mouth with his. She nearly tore away. Nearly. For a heartbeat, she was still. Amanda lifted her hands to his shoulders to push away, but clung instead. A soft, muffled moan escaped as passion flared. For a moment, they were locked together as they’d once been. Then, he dragged her away, keeping his hands tight on her arms. Desire and anger sparked between them. His tangible, hers restrained.
“You’re not going to back away from me this time,” he told her. “I’ll wait, but I won’t wait long. You come to me, Mandy. That’s where you belong.”
Releasing her, Griff stormed out of the office. Amanda lifted an unsteady hand to her lips and stared at the closed door.
“Cut.”
Ariel marched around the prop wall of her office. “You ate those onions on purpose.”
Jack tugged on her disheveled hair. “Just for you, sweetie.”
“Swine.”
“God, I love it when you call me names.” Dramatically, Jack gathered her in his arms and bent her backward in an exaggerated dip. “Let me take you to bed and show you the true meaning of passion.”
“Not until you chew a roll of breath mints, fella.” Giving him a firm push, Ariel freed herself, then turned to her director. The furnace of stage lights had already been dimmed. “Neal, if that’s it for today, I’ve got an appointment across town.”
“Take off. See you at seven on Monday.”
In the dressing room, Ariel stripped Amanda’s elegant facade away and replaced it with slim cotton pants and a billowy, tailored man’s shirt. After slipping on flat shoes she left the studio and went outside. There was a small group of fans waiting, hoping that someone recognizable would appear. They clustered around Amanda, autograph books in hand, as they chattered about the show and tossed questions.
“Are you going to go back with Griff?”
Ariel looked over at the sparkling-eyed teenager and grinned. “I don’t kn
ow . . . he’s awfully hard to resist.”
“He’s super! I mean, his eyes are just so green.” She tucked her gum into the corner of her mouth and sighed. “I’d die if he looked at me the way he looks at you.”
Ariel thought of another pair of green eyes and nearly sighed herself. “We’ll have to wait to see what develops, won’t we? I’m glad you like the show.” Easing away from the crowd, she hailed a cab. The minute she gave the address, she slumped back against the seat.
She wasn’t sure why she felt so tired. She supposed it was the prospect of the meeting that made her so bone weary. True, she hadn’t been sleeping as well as was her habit, but she’d gone through wakeful phases before without any strain.
Booth. If Booth were the only thing on her mind, she could have dealt with it well enough. She hoped she would. But there was Scott.
The idea of confronting his grandparents didn’t frighten her, but it did weary her. Ariel had spoken with them before. There was no reason to believe this session would be any different.
She remembered the way Scott had beamed and glowed at the zoo. Such a simple thing. Such a vital thing. The way he’d clung to her—it tore at her heart. If there were just some other way . . .
Closing her eyes, she sighed. She didn’t believe there would be another way, not even with all her natural optimism. In the end, they’d come to a complicated, painful custody suit with Scott caught in the middle.
What was best? What was right? Ariel wanted someone to tell her, to advise and comfort her. But for the first time in her life she felt it impossible to confide in anyone. The more private she
