A Woman's Heart

by Gael Morrison

  Relief rushed through her. "It's usually better to expect the worst than be ambushed by it," she muttered.

  "What's made you so wary?"

  "People like you..." She twisted away, not wanting to seek refuge in his eyes. "...who turn up and expect to get everything they want, even if it's something that belongs to someone else."

  "I don't believe that's the reason." He took hold of her shoulder and pulled her gently around. "Tell me," he demanded again. "Tell me what's hurt you so badly."

  "That's none of your business."

  "Everything about you is my business."

  "Why? So you can hold it against me in court?"

  His eyes flashed dangerously and his grip tightened. A current crackled between them as he pulled her to him. At least it appeared he was pulling her closer. He seemed also to be pushing her away. She felt in limbo. Not closer, not farther, but locked in his arms nonetheless.

  Her lips parted, the tug of war she saw waging in his eyes being also played out in her heart. Desire stabbed her loins, and she pressed her eyes shut, praying for the strength to resist this man, wishing someone, anyone, was there to help.

  But there was no one there. She was on her own.

  As she had been for a long time.

  Peter groaned, as if the final giving in to desire had ruptured the bond between mind and body and the rending had caused him pain. His lips met hers as a moving train meets the air. Exacting, unswerving, relentless, his tongue probed deep, exploring her mouth.

  No matter what her brain demanded, her limbs turned to jelly and her blood to fire. She could no more thrust Peter aside than stop the passage of time. And she admitted reluctantly... she didn't want to.

  His hands spread possessively along her back, caressing and kneading her skin until her nerve endings were ablaze. She flowed toward him like water into a chasm, her warmth seeking his as a moth seeks a flame. Her brain shrieked for release before she became consumed, but even if her body had obeyed, his did not. His hands were like steel draped in silk—soft enough to drive her desires to desperation—strong enough to hold her for all eternity.

  He explored her lips unhindered, trailing kisses across her cheek to her neck. Then she arched backward, helpless with need as his mouth paved a path down her throat to her breasts. Her breathing all but ceased.

  Far away, in the distant recesses of conscious thought, she felt the niggling pull of fear. If her passions raged out of control, she would lose everything.

  Not only her soul, but Alex as well.

  But beyond that lay a deeper fear, that the desire she felt was false, that it would die as it had always done in the past, leaving her cold and untouched.

  She moaned, her lips dry with longing, and her chest heaved, air rushing into where, only an instant before, there had been none. Summoning her last remaining shred of will, she placed her hands on Peter's chest and pushed.

  His lips froze. "Damn," he swore softly, withdrawing as swiftly as he had pulled her to him.

  For a long moment, he stared down at her, his face drawn and grim. He, too, seemed to be fighting for control. The breath expelled from his lungs came out in a downward blast of air—like the heat of a dragon about to devour its victim.

  Swallowing hard, Jann stepped backward. Away from his reach, she struggled to ease the tightness in her throat and the pulsing need in her loins.

  "We keep doing this," Peter said hoarsely.

  "It has to stop."

  "Yes."

  His single word sounded so final, Jann's racing heart stilled.

  "I don't want it," she whispered, searching for the strength to believe her own words.

  He simply stared at her.

  "I don't need it. Especially not from you."

  "You do need it," he said quietly. "But you're right about one thing. It can't come from me." He turned to move away.

  Some impulse urged her to hold out her hand to stop him, but she cradled her body instead, locking one hand under each arm.

  "Why did Ruby leave?" she asked, desperate to talk of other things, not wanting to think now of how he affected her.

  "I told her there was no need to stay." He shrugged, the movement strangely stilted, as though his muscles no longer did his bidding.

  "You told her to go?"

  "Yes."

  "That's my decision, not yours."

  "Is it?" He went to the settee and scooped up two piles of the baby clothes. They looked ridiculously small in his large hands.

  "You know it is!"

  "Not for much longer."

  Jann's head began to spin as she tried to focus, which was impossible while looking into Peter's eyes. She stared at his hands instead.

  "What are you doing with Alex's things?"

  "Thought I'd put them away. I like to finish what I start."

  "Didn't Ruby fold those clothes?"

  "No." He smiled faintly. "I take it there's no difference in our technique?"

  She angrily sucked in a breath. Access was one thing, but this man was beginning to dominate her life. And most irritating was the fact that she couldn't help but be impressed with the way he handled Alex. Besides playing with the baby, Peter changed diapers and folded laundry. Did things only a parent would want to do.

  Without warning, he swept past her, carrying the clothes to Alex's cabin. Then within seconds, he was back for another load.

  "Stop it!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on his arm. "I'll finish after you've gone."

  "I'm not going anywhere." He shook off her hand and reached for a stack of sleepers.

  Then he looked at her, and his eyes darkened to a deeper green. He took one hesitant step toward her, as though not trusting himself to be close.

  "I don't want to hurt you, Jann," he said softly. "That's never been what I wanted."

  "If you try to take Alex, that's exactly what you will be doing."

  "He'll be better off with me."

  "He's best where he is."

  "I think we should have dinner together."

  "Together?" she repeated stupidly.

  Two tiny undershirts spilled from the pile in Peter's hand and landed on the floor. "Yes," he said, ignoring the fallen clothes.

  It was as though each drop of blood was magnified in Jann's veins, as though her hearing had become so acute she could identify the whirring of a dragonfly on deck.

  "Yes," Peter said again, moving at last to snatch up the undershirts and tuck them under his arm.

  Jann's mind swirled and hysteria boiled through her, threatening to erupt. "Why?" she asked again, fighting it back.

  "So we can get to know each other."

  "I don't want to know you." Even as she said them, Jann knew her words were false.

  "It'll be easier for you if we get to know each other."

  "Easier for me?” In what way would it be easier? If Peter got custody of Alex, he would be the one feeding him, comforting him, watching her baby grow. The thought of that was not easy. She shook her head no.

  "It'll be easier," Peter said firmly. "Trust me."

  Chapter 7

  Trust him? Peter had asked the impossible.

  Jann tried to relax against the green velvet covers of the plush upholstered chair. It was a stupid sort of fabric for Hawaii, a cold weather sort of fabric, a Boston sort of fabric. Perhaps that's why Peter had chosen this particular restaurant. It was supposed to be one of the best, but she had never liked it, had never felt comfortable with its air of old money and old manners.

  And it was not the sort of place for a confrontation. Perhaps that was why Peter had chosen it.

  "He's late," Jann said, for the second time, peering into the topaz eye of the silver dragon writhing around her wrist. In the restaurant's subdued lighting, she could barely make out the numbers on the eye's spherical surface.

  "We're early," Mitch replied, glancing at his own watch.

  She leaned forward. "We'll give him five more minutes then I'm leaving."

  "Oh
, no you're not," Mitch protested. "I've been asking you out to dinner for months and we're finally doing it."

  "This isn't a date, Mitch."

  "Maybe not, but it's the closest I've had so far. I'm not leaving until we've ordered, eaten, and chatted over coffee."

  She twisted around and shot another glance toward the entrance.

  "Stop fidgeting," Mitch said sternly. "There's no reason to be nervous."

  "There's every reason."

  "Things have been going well, haven't they?"

  "If you call putting up with a stranger hanging around every minute of the day going well."

  "Has he behaved badly in any way?"

  He'd only kissed her so thoroughly she now dreamed about it all the time. Even when awake, she imagined she felt his lips on hers. So yes, he'd been behaving badly, but so had she, and try as she might, she couldn't blame it all on Peter.

  "Has he been good with Alex?"

  Jann sighed, the knot in the pit of her stomach now the size of a pineapple. "Yes," she admitted glumly, "he's been good."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "I just don't want to see him any more often than is necessary. And he's made friends with John and Ruby."

  Mitch placed his hand over hers and for a moment she felt comforted. Until she remembered another hand and the emotions it had evoked. She sighed again.

  "Making friends does not mean he's going to win custody," Mitch said soothingly.

  "It can't hurt," Jann replied, misery eating at her gut. "I don't trust him."

  "Trust who?"

  At the sound of Peter's voice, she started and spun around. "Peter," she breathed then in the next breath said, "You're late."

  "Right on time," he said equably, without glancing at his watch. He did look at Mitch, and although Peter neither spoke nor moved, Jann felt compelled to explain.

  "This is Mitch Zachery." She had asked Mitch along thinking safety in numbers, but it wasn't Peter whose behavior she feared the most. It was her own lack of control, when she was near him, or touched him, or....

  She couldn't go on thinking of how good his lips had felt, or try to imagine what it would be like to feel his bare skin against her body. She didn't want to get closer to this man who was her enemy, who wanted only one thing from her and that was her son.

  Peter nodded at Mitch then looked back at her. Explain, his expression ordered, without him uttering a word.

  "Mitch is a friend of mine," she said slowly. "I hope you don't mind my inviting him along." The room seemed to have grown smaller, becoming almost claustrophobic.

  "If this is awkward..." Mitch pushed back his chair and stood.

  Peter was taller than Mitch and although leaner, was more powerful. Like a tightly coiled spring next to a comfy stuffed bear.

  "Don't go, Mitch," Jann said swiftly, begging him with a look. She didn't want to be alone with Peter, not after that kiss, not here where it seemed like a date.

  "By all means, join us," Peter offered, politely holding out his hand. After Mitch shook it, Peter sat down opposite Jann, his green eyes gazing directly into hers.

  As they had when he had kissed her.

  Her face flushed with heat. She wanted to clutch her crystal heart and wish herself away. If only her necklace had that power.

  "I've not seen you around Jann's boat," Peter commented to Mitch.

  "Mitch is my lawyer," Jann explained, meeting Peter's sharp glance with her chin held high.

  Peter frowned. "This was supposed to be a friendly meeting."

  "Mitch is here as my friend."

  Peter lifted one brow, his gaze again probing hers, as though he knew what she was thinking and why she'd brought Mitch along.

  "How's Alex tonight?" Mitch asked, changing the subject.

  "Fine," Jann answered, wishing the change hadn't been to that of Alex, not now in front of Peter. But perhaps that didn't matter. Whether spoken about or not, the baby was as present in everyone's minds as if he were there in the flesh, for it was he who connected them one to the other, made adversaries of them when all she'd ever wanted was peace.

  "What do you think of the little guy?" Mitch continued.

  Inwardly, Jann groaned.

  "He looks just like Claire," Peter replied, his expression warming.

  "More like you," Jann said softly.

  "Does he?" Peter's brows lifted in surprise.

  "Yes," she whispered, unable to regret the pleasure she saw in his eyes.

  "Last time I looked he was a squalling ball of wrinkles and redness," Mitch said, with a grin, then ducked to avoid the flat-handed swipe Jann aimed at his shoulder.

  "If you had come out of your office and seen him the last time we were there, you..." Jann swallowed hard. The last time she and Alex had been in Mitch's office was for the purpose of discussing Peter's access to her baby.

  Peter seemed to notice her discomfort and held out his hand towards her. "Dance, Ms. Fletcher?"

  "We've not ordered yet," Jann protested, afraid to touch him.

  "There's no rush."

  "Mitch—"

  "Will be fine without us."

  Mitch smiled amiably and nodded his agreement.

  With reluctance, Jann took hold of Peter's hand and moved with him onto the dance floor. Other couples were already out there, swaying in one another's arms.

  Without speaking, Peter drew her close, placing one hand on the small of her back, the other around her fingers, enclosing them, warming them.

  It felt strange dancing with Peter, yet in another way oddly comfortable, as though they had done it a thousand times before. Jann stiffened. It was perhaps too comfortable.

  "Relax," Peter said.

  "Impossible."

  "Why?"

  "You know why."

  "Because we kissed?

  "Yes." She avoided his eyes, stared at his chin, instead, noticing he had shaved before coming out for the evening. She wondered again how his skin would feel next to hers.

  "Forget the kiss," he growled. "I have."

  She gazed into his eyes now, almost losing herself in their depths. "You're lying," she accused.

  His shoulders tensed.

  "Maybe I am," he finally admitted, "but it's probably best we pretend it never happened."

  "Because I'm a gold-digging baby-snatcher?"

  "Ouch," Peter said, wincing.

  "Do you still think that?" If she could have pulled the question back, she would have. She couldn't allow herself to care what he thought. Not and hang on to Alex, too.

  "I haven't figured you out yet." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I think you're warm, and funny—"

  "No one's ever accused me of being funny before."

  "Only when you're angry." His eyes danced, the tension between them dissolving. "You have a funny way of wrinkling your nose and..." He shrugged, not finishing what he was about to say. "I haven't figured out yet whether you have a sense of humor as a rule."

  "Meaning what?" she asked.

  "Mostly, I see you irritable and cross."

  "With good reason," she replied.

  "Yes," he agreed, "but you have to come to terms with the fact Alex will inevitably be coming with me. Have to learn to live with that."

  "Never."

  "May I cut in?" Mitch asked, coming up behind Peter and tapping on his shoulder.

  Peter's gaze remained on hers, his arms around her waist as hard as his scrutiny.

  "Yes," Jann agreed quickly, one part of her exulting in the displeasure crossing Peter's face as he realized that everything wasn't necessarily going his way.

  "Did I interrupt something?" Mitch murmured, after she had withdrawn from Peter's arms.

  She didn't answer, simply watched as Peter walked slowly back to their table.

  "You looked as though you needed rescuing," Mitch added gently.

  "Just dance with me," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

  "Gladly," he agreed.

  Her heart fe
lt heavy and her body did too, as though her usual lightness of spirit was imprisoned within. Mitch's scent wasn't Peter's scent, and his warmth not Peter's either.

  She'd been so relieved to be free of Peter's presence, and now, an instant later, was filled with regret. If only for the space of a single dance, she wished she could expunge Claire's brother from her mind and soul.

  The dance with Mitch was both too long and too short, Jann decided, when they returned to the table. Peter was sitting there alone. It caught her heart, his aloneness, and she became wrenchingly aware that he needed Alex as much as she.

  But Alex needed a mother, she told herself determinedly, and no matter how much Peter tried, he couldn't take a mother's place.

  "I'm going home now," Mitch said, pulling out Jann's chair for her, but not sitting down himself.

  "Don't go," Jann protested. She didn't want to sound desperate, but prayed her friend would know that she was.

  "Glad to have met you," Peter said briskly. He stood and shook Mitch's hand.

  Jann glared at Peter, the looked back to her friend. "You haven't eaten yet, Mitch."

  "I'm not hungry," he replied, "and you both look as though you've got things to say."

  "Nothing I wouldn't want you hearing," Jann insisted.

  "Should my lawyer be present as well?" Peter asked.

  "I told you," Jann snapped, "Mitch isn't here as my lawyer."

  Peter's eyebrows rose.

  "He's here as my friend."

  "And your friend is going home," Mitch said firmly. "I've got an early start in the morning."

  He took hold of Jann's hand and held it for a moment between his palms. His touch soothed and comforted, then, dropping her hand, he threw her to the wolf.

  "Call if you need me," he said, waving goodbye.

  "Nice fellow," Peter said.

  "He can be very tough in court."

  "Glad you warned me," Peter said, with a smile.

  "Don't underestimate him," Jann warned. "Or me either."

  "Not a mistake I'd make again." His expression sobered. "Are you and that lawyer an item?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Are you going together, dating?"

  "No," Jann said, suddenly wishing that they were. Maybe with the possibility of a real family, a real home, her position as Alex's mother would be strengthened.