“But he’s not having any of it, is he? Was he furious with you for what you did?”
Her friend’s expression was her answer.
Ava knew her smile wasn’t endearing her to Sylvie, but she couldn’t help it. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Control freak to the end. I don’t blame him. I’d be furious, too.”
“I’m trying to protect him.”
“You’re trying to make his decisions for him, just as you do all of us.”
Sylvie’s eyes widened. “I do not.”
The doorbell rang. Ava chuckled. “You most certainly do. You want me to get that?”
“No, I will.” Sylvie stopped after a few steps, turning toward her. “I don’t really want to talk about this tonight. Please?”
“I understand.”
“But—” She softened for a moment. “Thank you. You make it seem not quite so scary.”
“You have people who care about you, Syl. Don’t try to tell us we can’t.”
Sylvie shook her head. “That’s just what Gabe said.”
“Gabe’s a smart man.”
She squared her shoulders and headed for the door. “Too smart for his own good.”
Ava laughed.
* * *
An hour later, the conversation about their chosen book was in full throttle.
“The thing I hate about romance novels is that there are no real men like that,” Luisa said. “They mislead women about reality.”
“Women don’t read them for reality,” Ava answered. “The books are fantasies, pure and simple. Men the way we want them to be. And trust me, both readers and writers know that. Only people who don’t read romances assume we can’t tell the difference.”
“You don’t think they create unrealistic expectations? You don’t think you’re doing women a disservice to let them believe there are men like the hero in this book out there waiting?” Luisa shook her head. “Trust me, there are more men like Ramon than like Tom.”
“Or Wyatt,” Laken supplied.
Ava couldn’t help bristling at Luisa’s mention of Tom. What would have pleased her before, the praising of her husband as heroic, now made her uneasy.
Then she noticed Ellie wasn’t smiling or agreeing to what Laken said about Wyatt. Instead, she seemed to shrink into herself even more than she’d been all evening. She’d barely said a word to any of them.
Aware of curious glances cast Ellie’s way, Ava hastened to speak. “So what is we want from men? What does it take for them to make us happy?”
“Someone who’ll never let you down” was Luisa’s answer.
“A great ass,” Laken supplied.
Most of them laughed. Even Ellie smiled.
“You are so full of shit, Laken,” Ava challenged. “Anyone can see Michael is making you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”
“He’ll be gone soon.” Her smile was sly and secret. “But yeah…good times for now.”
“Don’t you toy with him.” At last Ellie spoke. “He’s a wonderful man.”
“He knows what he’s getting into. It’s a lark for him, too.”
“Are you so sure?”
“He knows I’m not the marrying type. I’m a realist.”
“You’re a coward. And you’re going to screw this up, aren’t you?” Ava challenged.
Laken’s back stiffened. “Easy for you to pontificate. You and Ellie have the only happy marriages I’ve ever seen. Sylvie should marry Gabe. They’ve got a chance. Luisa and I are out in the cold. The odds are against us.”
“Excuse me?” Luisa sat up straight.
“Don’t give me that. No one has a more jaundiced view of men than you.”
“But that doesn’t mean I can’t hope. You’re a fool, Laken, for closing yourself off from the possibility of a good man. I’d kill for one like him. He’ll never let you down.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Laken whispered, so low only Ava heard.
But she wasn’t paying much attention. All she could think about was that once she and Ellie both would have been preening, bursting with confidence over the state of their marriages. Now she felt like a hypocrite, touting her relationship, and Ellie had gone dead quiet.
Was her whole life a lie? Before being a writer, before being a mother, the one thing that had defined Ava Sinclair for most of her life was knowing that she and Tom were solid, two souls combined as one. That each of them put the other before anything else.
She couldn’t bear thinking that it might have changed. Too agitated to listen to the discussion any longer, Ava rose from her chair. “I’ll be right back.” She went into the powder room and stared at herself in the mirror. What’s happening, Ava? Is it him? Or is it you?
She needed to come clean with Tom, to give him the chance to ease her mind. It had been many years since she’d kept anything from him more serious than the nature of a birthday present. But this was much more serious.
She needed to ask if he sensed a problem, too. Tom had been her best friend for most of her life. If she couldn’t trust him, her whole existence was a sham. She prayed that all of this was her writer’s imagination, spinning a whole plot from a random thought. She had to ask him, had to give him a chance to put her mind at ease. Just because everything felt different didn’t mean anything was wrong. She might simply be paranoid.
But deep in her bones, she was afraid she was not.
Chapter Three
‡
“When you go to your lesson this morning, could you pick up this plat for me at the City, Ellie?” Wyatt asked. “The Planning Department is only a few blocks away from the studio.”
“I—I don’t think I’m going today. But I’ll still go pick that up for you.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t feel like it, that’s all. I’m busy.”
“But it makes you so happy to go paint,” he objected. His green eyes studied hers intently. “This isn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Does this, uh, have anything to do with our talk the other night?”
Ellie stilled. “What do you mean?”
“Are you ditching your lesson to save money or something? Because I still don’t see how we can—”
She whirled away from him, anger and humiliation slicing her to the bone. She didn’t want to talk about it again. Once had been embarrassing enough. “You made your position very clear, Wyatt.” She couldn’t seem to keep the bitterness out of her tone.
“I’m sorry. I wish—” He exhaled roughly. “It’s not the answer, you know. You can’t mother babies forever. And you’re getting too old to be pregnant.”
Anger shot through her like lightning. “I’m not too old. Women do it all the time.”
“Ellie, think about it,” he pleaded. “I’m already going to be close to sixty when Sam graduates from high school. We’ve got to save for retirement. We’re just now paying for college for the first one. We can’t—”
She shook her head furiously. “Don’t say anymore. I know all the arguments. You don’t want to let me have what I want, and that’s that.”
“You’re not being fair. I’ve never denied you anything you really wanted. This isn’t about what you want or I want. It’s about what’s possible. I don’t know how I’m going to support all these kids, anyway.”
“You wanted them, too.”
He exhaled sharply. “I never said I didn’t. I love my children—that’s why I want to take good care of them. The way I’m trying to take good care of you. But you know my business—it’s unreliable, subject to so much I can’t control. We have no pension plan from some big corporation. I’m going to have to work my ass off to make enough to take care of us in our old age.”
She jutted her chin. “Do you want me to go get a job?”
“Goddamn it, Ellie, I didn’t say that. You have a job. You’re a wife and mother, a very important job. The most important job of all. I’m simply asking you to stop obsessing over having another baby. You have five, and they need
you. I need you, too.”
“I’m not neglecting anyone,” she shot back.
Wyatt stared at the ceiling, exasperation written all over his face. After a long pause, he looked back down at her, his jaw clenched. “I never said you were. Look, I have to go. I’m late to meet the inspector. Can we talk about this later?”
“We’ve said enough,” she muttered.
“Fine. Don’t worry about the plat. I’ll take care of it.” He turned to walk away, then smacked his hand against the doorframe. “Damn it, Ellie, I don’t like parting this way.”
She didn’t either, but she couldn’t relent just yet. The heat of shame and humiliation, the confusion of dreams denied and a future that frightened her…all combined to render her unable to give him the send-off he usually got. The one she’d vowed he’d always have.
“Don’t worry about me, Wyatt. I’ll get over it.”
He turned and stared at her. “Sometimes I don’t know who you are anymore.”
Tears blurred her vision.
“That makes two of us,” she whispered. With great effort, she grappled for control. “Go on. I know you’re running late. I’ll be fine.”
For a moment longer, he just stood there, his jaw working, his eyes shuttered so that she couldn’t tell his thoughts. Finally, he shook his head. “This is wrong.”
And he walked out the door.
“Mom?” Sam’s voice from upstairs. “I can’t find my turtle.”
Ellie scrubbed at her face, wanting nothing more than to run away, far and fast. “Just a minute, honey.” With leaden steps, she headed for the stairs.
* * *
When the doorbell rang two hours later, Ellie was surrounded by the contents of her kitchen cabinets. Burying herself in a project was the only distraction she could find from the pain eating a hole in her gut.
Every flat surface was covered with dishes and pots and pans. She glanced around in a panic. This had better be a good friend. No way could she let a stranger see this mess. Hurrying to the door, she peered through the sidelight window to see who it was.
Her breath stalled.
Saxon.
Smoothing a hand over tousled hair, she spent one panicky second evaluating escape plans. Then he looked through the same sidelight, and she knew he’d seen her.
Drawing a deep breath and pasting on a smile, she opened the door. “Hi, Saxon, how are—”
“Why the hell didn’t you show up?” he barked. “I’ve been waiting on you for over an hour.”
It was too much. On top of the fight with Wyatt, her deep misgivings and too many nights spent tossing, having the source of her problems yell at her was the last straw.
Ellie burst into tears and tried to shut the door.
Saxon slammed his hand against the wood and shoved it open. Ellie scooted away, heart pounding.
“What is it?” He moved closer. “Are you ill?”
She couldn’t get words past the lump in her throat, past the scramble of thoughts. She put her face in her hands, helpless to stop the tears.
Strong hands clasped her shoulders, bringing her close to his body, patting her back awkwardly.
“What’s wrong, Ellie? I was worried about you. I was afraid that I—that you—” He cursed beneath his breath. “Damn it, you’re scaring me. Why didn’t you come?”
She shook her head against his chest. “I—I can’t—Saxon, I can’t come there anymore.” Beneath her ear, the steady thump of his heart soothed her, his warmth surrounding her.
He was silent for a long while, but his hands stroked her back. Though it felt strange to be so close to any body but Wyatt’s, there was comfort here…and refuge.
“It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because you know I love you.”
Ellie’s eyes widened, breath stalling in her throat. “What?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he drew one long finger over her cheekbones, across her temples, sliding down to touch her lips. “I know I shouldn’t. I know all the reasons. You’re married. I don’t deserve you. But I can’t stop. You’re an angel, Ellie. An angel who’s dropped into my life and transformed it. You’ve made me want to become someone new, someone who would deserve you.”
“But—I can’t—”
He pressed the long finger against her lips, his blue eyes darkened with sorrow. “Sh-h-h…I know. Believe me, I know. But I want you. So much. I dream about you.”
It was incredible…unreal. To have this god of a man stand here in his glory and say that he wanted her. Plain Ellie Preston. Small-town girl who couldn’t begin to compete with the beauties who’d graced his bed and his life.
“Why?” she whispered.
A sad smile crossed his lips. “Because of this very part of you. Because you have a pure soul, and you glow from within. You don’t even know how pretty you are, do you?” Saxon shook his head. “You have the kind of beauty that will still be there at ninety. Your beauty within is so strong that it glows right through this porcelain skin.”
Every word was water dripped on dry desert grass. She could feel Saxon’s arms around her, see the light in his eyes, stare at the face that had fascinated her so. It was so far outside her experience that she couldn’t think beyond the magic of the moment.
Saxon smoothed back her hair, then lowered his head to hers. “Please, Ellie. Let me taste you. Just once. One kiss.”
One kiss. Surely one wouldn’t hurt. And she needed it so…needed the balm of it.
Warm, firm lips covered hers, almost reverent in their tenderness. At first, he only pressed small, chaste kisses across her lips. Then at one corner, she felt his tongue lick the tiniest stroke, urging her to open to him with one slow slide over the seam of her lips.
Ellie softened against him and parted her lips with only the smallest hesitation, inviting him to give her more.
And he did. The real Saxon showed up, the bold adventurer. Before she could think, his tongue swept within, staking a claim. With every stroke, she fell further into the spell of the moment, into the dream that had taunted her for too long.
Saxon was everything she’d dreamed, lived up to every promise of the Viking warrior, the poet’s soul. The fire that smoldered in his paintings licked through her body as his hands began to roam, stroking down her spine, cupping her bottom and pressing her against his aroused flesh.
Saxon tilted her head and plunged deeper, pulling her closer, hand stroking up her body, caressing her breast. She gasped, on fire. This was a sweeping passion, the kind that men died for, the kind that inspired sonnets and sparked wars. She was utterly lost in him, desire raising gooseflesh over her skin.
“What the hell is going on?” Wyatt shouted from the kitchen door.
Ellie jerked away from Saxon, but he kept one arm around her shoulders protectively.
Wyatt’s face was mottled with rage, his fists clenched as he strode across the floor.
Ellie shoved away from Saxon and put herself between them, but Wyatt pushed her aside.
“Get out of my house, you sonofabitch, before I beat the shit out of you.”
Saxon stood his ground. “Don’t blame her. It was my fault. Only mine.”
Wyatt shot Ellie a furious glare. “She wasn’t complaining.”
“Wyatt, I—” What did she say?
“Don’t—” he barked at her.
“I’m not leaving until you cool off. I’m not letting you hurt her.”
Wyatt looked like he’d been hit. “I would never—” His jaw clenched down hard. “Get out of here. You know nothing of my marriage.”
“I don’t think it’s much of a marriage.”
“You bastard—” Wyatt leapt toward him, but Ellie jumped at his arm, pulling as hard as she could.
“Go, Saxon. Now,” she ordered.
“No. He’s too angry.”
“Wyatt would never hurt me.”
Just then Wyatt shook her off. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. Saxon lunged toward her, and Wyatt rounded on
him. Ellie scooted away from Saxon, and she could see the hurt in his eyes.
“Get the fuck out of my house and stay away from my wife.” She’d never heard Wyatt sound like this.
Saxon looked at her for a response, his jaw working, his own fists clenched.
He was bigger and younger than Wyatt. She couldn’t begin to sort out her thoughts, but she knew she didn’t want Wyatt hurt. Or Saxon.
“Please, Saxon. Please go. I’ll be fine, I swear.”
She watched a muscle jump in his jaw, saw the blue eyes go laser-hot. She looked at her husband. Wyatt’s whole body was quivering with rage.
She was shaking from head to toe. What in God’s name had she done?
“Wyatt, it’s not what you think—” she began, trying to find some way to break the impasse.
He shot her a glare that could melt lead. “Not what I think? Oh, it’s much worse than anything I’d ever think. My loving wife—” He spat out the words. “I never, ever imagined—good God, Ellie, what the hell are you doing?”
She looked at the torment in his green gaze and could barely breathe, knowing that she’d put it there. In that moment, Saxon disappeared from her thoughts. All she could see was the wreckage she’d just made of her whole life, in one moment of madness.
But it wasn’t a conversation she could have with an audience. Without taking her eyes off Wyatt, she spoke to Saxon. “Please.” She tried to still the shaking she could hear in her voice. “Please leave, Saxon.”
She darted him one glance and could see the war inside him, how he didn’t want to leave but knew he was out of place. “Please. I beg you.”
“Ellie, I’m sorry. This is my fault—”
She put a plea in her look, praying that Saxon would just go and let her see if there was anything she could salvage from her life.
Finally, he relented. “You sure you’ll be all right?”
Wyatt cursed long and low.
She got angry herself on his behalf. “Wyatt has never raised a hand to me. He never will.” And she knew that was true. Wyatt was a man of action, but not a man of violence.
“I promise I’ll be fine.” She wanted to laugh bitterly at the inane words. She’d just destroyed her life…and that of her family.
The Book Babes Boxed Set (Texas Ties/Texas Troubles/Texas Together) Page 24
