by Jule McBride
“So, you kept driving?”
She nodded. “I drove all night.” There were no words for the terror she’d felt. “I didn’t even know I was going North. I was so scared I wasn’t even watching road signs. When I stopped at dawn, I simply left the car in a ditch and got a bus ticket here. Later, I changed my name. I…I just started over.”
He was staring at her, taking it in. “Why didn’t you go to the police?”
Her lips parted in silent protest. “Well, apparently the police were in Jack Ramsey’s pocket,” she finally said, in her own defense. “And I was so afraid no one would believe…” My hitting Sam was an accident. It was so horrible, she couldn’t even say it again.
“What else?”
She started to confess the rest. It would help if Shane knew about the strange papers she’d found in the car, and the money. Sam’s infidelity and death almost paled in comparison with what she’d found. So did the fact that she’d signed away her home to a crime consortium. “That’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. Heaven help her, but she had her reasons for keeping quiet about the money. If one good thing ever came from the past seven years of her life, it would be from her silence. “I don’t know exactly what happened after that. As I pulled onto the main road, I heard an explosion. Behind me, the pier and boathouse went up in flames. I…saw two men in the glare. But…”
Shane leaned forward intently. “But what?”
She narrowed her gaze, trying to recall, but to this day, the memory remained a blur. “I think…one of the men may have shot the other.”
Shane’s voice was deathly calm. “What did they look like?”
Why couldn’t she remember? Had she not seen clearly? Or was it so horrible that she’d simply blocked it out? She shook her head again. “I really don’t know.”
“Try,” Shane pressed.
“I’ve tried for years. I think it was just so traumatic that…” She’d banished it to her deepest nightmares. Couldn’t Shane understand? Everything had happened so fast. Within minutes, her dreams were shattered. Her marriage was over. She’d been betrayed, accidentally killed her cheating husband, given her home to a crime boss who had the police in his pocket. Even the realization that she possessed such dangerous naiveté was completely devastating. She’d been so innocent that she’d never seen so much as a warning sign. In the snap of a finger, she’d gone from being a blushing bride to being on the run.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said again. All she knew was that she was stronger and braver now than she’d been that night. “But somewhere, locked in my mind, I think I have the face of a killer. And the man he killed. So today,” she continued, “when Jake Lucas got shot, I had to consider that maybe my past had caught up with me. Maybe that bullet wasn’t meant for me, but I can no longer pretend my past doesn’t haunt me. I…I still have dreams.”
His voice was low. “I know. I’ve heard you in the night.”
She gazed at him, seeing the concern reflected in his eyes. And none of horrible judgments she’d feared. Had she really thought this man would handcuff her and haul her into the nearest precinct? Her voice caught. “The whole thing just makes me feel so…dirty.”
There was no other word. She glanced down at Little Shane, his face so hopelessly innocent, then she looked at the skirt of her white sundress. Earlier, she’d been too distraught to change, and now the dress seemed limp from the long day. “Shane,” she continued bravely, “because of all this, I want to do something. And because I’m unsure of your feelings about me and the baby, we need to have a serious talk about it.”
He sounded faintly alarmed, and she couldn’t blame him in the least. “What do you want to do, Lillian?”
“Take Little Shane back to Ethel.”
TAKE LITTLE SHANE BACK?
In spite of the room’s warmth, a bitter chill gusted through Shane, making his chest constrict and his lungs burn as if he’d sucked in air on a cold winter day. “We can’t do anything tonight,” he managed.
“Someday,” she returned fiercely, “just because of who I am, he could be hurt.”
Maybe so, but Shane couldn’t bear to take the baby back…
He had to get hold of himself and think. Sam Ramsey was dead, but Lillian hadn’t killed him. According to Trusty Joe, Sam had run from the road into the boathouse after Lillian was gone. No doubt Sam had been chasing the car, either to bring Lillian back or to make sure she didn’t take the money—probably both. She’d knocked him out, but then was too scared to properly check his pulse.
Moments later, when gunfire hit the ammo in the boathouse, Sam Ramsey died in the explosion. His body was never recovered, but, in a gator-filled bayou, was to be expected. But why had Lillian stopped before telling the whole truth? Shane was sure she’d seen whoever shot his Uncle Silas, and sure she was telling the truth about blocking it out. Her slight hesitation told him she’d considered mentioning the money, which was definitely in the car. Now he decided to keep playing his own cards close to the vest. All hers weren’t on the table, and he wanted to know why…
At least insofar as he could think about such things. After all, he was still riveted on her last words. I want to take Little Shane back to Ethel.
“What do you think, Shane?”
He thought giving up the baby would break both their hearts. “If we take him back,” he managed, “you know we’ll never see him again. Big Apple Babies is an adoption agency, not a holding company.”
“I know.”
Apparently she’d been sitting here for hours, holding the baby, saying goodbye. All day, she’d been considering giving up Little Shane, to protect him against something bad that might not ever happen. Witnessing her bravery and sacrifice, Shane knew he’d never cared for her more. As his eyes lingered on his namesake, Shane’s heart lurched, but his tone remained even. “It’s after midnight now. We…can’t talk to Ethel until tomorrow.”
Her eyes registered the truth of that.
He leaned toward the rocker, stroking her cheek, smoothing another tangled strand of fallen hair. “What say, we sleep on it?” he asked, buying time to find a way out of this for all of them.
Her eyes narrowed as she considered. “Okay.”
“C’mon,” he murmured, rising. “He’s sleeping. Let’s put him down.”
Together they laid the baby in the crib, then Shane clasped Lillian’s hand, twining his fingers through hers. For a long time, they stood side by side, simply staring down at the child who, though no formal words had been spoken, was becoming theirs. The proof was in how Lillian knew Shane had to be involved in any decisions about his future.
“I guess I ought to change,” she finally said.
“You’ll feel better after a nice warm bath.” Still holding her hand, he led her into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he wordlessly turned on the faucets and started filling the deep whirlpool. “What say, I make it lukewarm?”
“Thanks, Shane. When I got home, I just…”
Her voice trailed off as he stopped in front of her. With his hand, he once again brushed back tendrils of her hair, gently tracing wisps that had curled in the humidity, framing her poreless rose cheeks and tangling near her temples and dark eyes. Cupping her chin, he grazed his thumb back and forth across her lower lip, then let it rest.
Funny, he thought. She was so beautiful, but her physical beauty meant absolutely nothing to him at this minute. He wanted so much more—her heart and soul. It was so much to ask that Shane had never intended to ask it of anybody. Until now. He became conscious of the rushing water in the bathtub, and the sound reminded him of their first kiss—of the pounding rain and the flood of their mutual need.
Leaning, he nuzzled her, rubbing his nose and cheeks and mouth over her delicate skin as he deeply inhaled her scent. Drawing back, his eyes searched hers, the gaze penetrating. He knew it was time for the words he’d never dreamed he’d say to anyone. “I’ve fallen in love with you. Yo
u know that, don’t you?”
She sank against the counter. “I…I’d hoped so, Shane.” Her breath caught. “I love you, too.”
His heart was pounding hard. Right now, every word was so important. It was their future. He needed to say it again. “I love you. I want to stay together.”
“Me, too.”
His heart pulled, swelled. “I love that little boy in there, too, Lillian.”
She blinked back tears. Her voice was a soft rasp. “I thought you might. I’d hoped.”
Questions remained—at least a thousand. About where to take things from here. About the baby. About how to reconcile her dangerous past with an uncertain future.
But those questions were for tomorrow. Tonight, they needed to shore up their energies for what was to come. Not that they’d give up Little Shane, Shane assured himself as he pressed up against her, carefully unpinning what was left of the twist in her hair. He’d find a way out for all of them. Picking up a brush, he slowly ran it through the loosened strands.
Her eyes drifted shut and her head pulled with the strokes, exposing her slender creamy throat. The sheer intimacy of her yielding began to arouse him. Not with what Shane thought of as lust, but with a whole new kind of aching want—an outpouring, a straining need to share himself.
Heat was coming through her dress, making him warm, and her hip was hard against him, rhythmically pressuring his groin, stirring him as her body pulled with the brush strokes. His free hand soothed her side, his palm dampening on the lightweight summer fabric.
“There,” he murmured, finally setting aside the brush.
“Feel better? At least for now?”
She nodded.
He gently undressed her, lifting her limp white dress over her head and removing her bra, his arousal thickening as he freed her generous breasts. Dark tangled curls peeked from a white triangle of panty and he hooked both hands inside the silk scrap, pulling it slowly down her long legs, his nostrils flaring as he leaned, catching the intimate scent of her musk.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he murmured, as she braced her hands on his shoulders for balance and stepped from the panties. Powerless to rise, he circled his arms around her thighs and drew her close, just holding her for a brief moment, pressing his cheek to the soft triangle of hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the moist, musky haven.
Then he rose, feeling heavy with emotion and gestured toward the tub where the water was still rising, now almost too deep. His voice was almost a whisper, “Go on, sweetheart.”
“Coming?”
He hadn’t even thought about it, he’d been so intent on simply wanting to bathe her, to make her feel better. “Yeah. After you.”
He watched her head for the tub, get in, and turn off the faucets. Seating herself on the whirlpool steps, she let her legs dangle, the water lapping at the swells of her breasts. He started undressing in front of her—taking off his boots, his T-shirt, opening his belt and unsnapping his jeans, then his lean hand paused on the zipper, and he was suddenly conscious of where his hard sex was pressuring denim.
His head swam. She’d never seen him in the light; she’d never seen him naked. The realization left him so unsteady that his hand shook. Swallowing against the dryness of his throat, he brought down the zipper. Shedding his jeans and underwear, he stood up straight, feeling unaccountably vulnerable, but letting her dark eyes touch him with love.
Then he headed down the steps, stopping only to lay a thick sumptuous towel at the very edge of the bathtub, so Lillian wouldn’t slip on the tiles when she got out. Bending his knees, Shane immersed himself to his chest, found a wash cloth and, soaping it, floated in front of her. Suddenly conscious of the mirrors surrounding them, he caught a glimpse of himself and realized he was a man transformed. His eyes were full of the same naked emotion he saw reflected in Lillian’s each time he looked at her.
“Everything’s going to be all right, Lillian,” he whispered.
“You promise?” she whispered back.
“I promise.”
In the silence, he could hear her shallow breath, his own heart pounding. A water droplet plunked from the faucet into the still pool, sending a ripple. Right before he pressed his lips to hers, offering a gentle, loving kiss, he murmured, “We’re all going to stay together. You, me, and the baby. Everything’s going to work out fine.”
“You never struck me as the type to believe in happy endings, Shane.”
“You’ve made me believe in them.” He took her mouth once more, then started bathing both her and himself—running the cloth around his neck and over his chest. Resoaping it, he lifted her feet and hands, working the sudsy cloth between her toes and fingers.
He didn’t know when he quit washing her and simply started loving her. But the cloth, slick with suds, slid between her legs with only the tenderest pretext of washing. Soon, his soaped finger followed, easing open her cleft, exploring until a soft cry pressed into his shoulder, and she murmured, “Shane, I think I’m about clean.”
Leaning back a fraction, he saw the slightest of smiles lift her lips. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. Because no matter what trouble she’d been in, she’d stayed brave and kept going. She’d started a new life for herself—and she’d made that life work. No matter what a hundred tomorrows brought, she’d always be strong. And she’d always love him. His voice was too strained to be called husky. “Clean? I think I might have missed a spot.”
“We wouldn’t want that.”
“No, we wouldn’t.”
“Here…” His hands—one covered with suds now, the other with the cloth—lathered her breasts until the constricted darkened tips were all that peeped from the white foam. His soap-slick hands slipping, he cupped her breasts from the sides, lifting and pressing them together. Rinsing the cloth, he wrung it, sluicing water over her, then he lathered again until her chest was covered.
“Oh, Shane,” she whispered, her slender fingers suddenly kneading his shoulders, her long legs moving edgily in the water, floating around him, opening again. He felt simply reverent—moved from their confessions of love, and from the depth of what was passing between them. He couldn’t articulate it, didn’t think it in words, but he felt the emotions. He was loving her in the light now, soaping and bathing her. They were coming clean.
When the soap slipped from his grasp and slid over the bath tiles, she stretched but couldn’t reach it.
His low-voiced drawl was whispered against her cheek. “I’ll get it.” Rising from the water brought his aroused sex close to her, and Shane suddenly gasped as her hands unexpectedly slid between his thighs, then boldly held him, urging him against her chest. Flooded with sensation, flooded with love, Shane felt his knees give out. Sinking, he braced himself as she thrust her breast against him, pressing his aroused length to where she was slick with suds.
He uttered something ragged when she nestled him into her cleavage. He’d become so thick now, painfully engorged. Water eddied around his knees as his hips moved, thrusting once between her breasts. “Yes—” His voice caught. “Ah, Lillian.”
Far more than the physical sensation, he felt the stretching of his heart as he sank into the water again, found her hand, then urged her up with him, into his embrace. Their warm, wet bodies dripped and clung while their lips caught with gentle greed. The kiss was thirsty, a spring rain gulping at roots—as tongue met tongue, and as he slid his over her teeth and licked at the inside of her cheek.
“Love,” he whispered thickly against her mouth.
“Take me to bed.”
Turning in his arms, she started ascending the steps, but their eyes caught in the mirror—and then they were both lost. His wet chest was pressed against her back, his heart beating against her, and seeing the full front of her in the mirror made him shudder. That sight—her breasts, stomach, the sweet bush below—completely swept him away, and he squeezed his arms around her, holding tight as his mouth sank onto her shoulder. Kissing her neck, he suckled, taking with his
teeth and tongue. And when he managed to release her, their eyes linked in the mirror, stormy with love.
“Go,” he said hoarsely, his hands on her shoulders.
Instead, she backed down a step, and simply leaned over the tub’s edge, resting her belly on the white towel on the tiles. He didn’t argue. Gliding between her legs that floated open, his hands roved as his eyes did, over her backside and arched spine. He pressed into her hot tight readiness, pushing in just a fraction, feeling the slick moisture that was no longer soap and water now, but that was all her.
And then, splaying both hands on her waist and holding her in place, he pulled her to him, even as he drove his whole body forward with a stroke so deep it made her shout out with the pleasured intensity of it. She stretched so completely open for him that he was utterly lost inside her, drowning in heat and darkness, gasping for breath. And then riding, until the reins were lost.
Unbalanced, he half opened his veiled eyes—and realized she was everywhere. In the mirrors, he watched her fists clench and unclench on the towel where she lay. Watched how he’d wound up crouching over her—how his hands reached around her and fondled her breasts, and how a finger found her mouth, letting her suckle. The visions took him to the edge. His words were thick, ragged. “Are you ready?”
“Yes! Yes!” Her gasps said she, too, was at the brink.
Crouching even lower, he strained and caught her mouth in a starving kiss. Somehow, he shut his eyes and kept them hovering for those few last precious seconds of love. He wanted to give her so much more, a lifetime of it—this woman he’d watched and wanted so long in the dark, whom he’d pursued for years. Whom he’d found. And who’d become, along with a baby, his destiny.
When his eyes opened again, he cast them around the room—and saw she was still everywhere. In every mirror. But now Shane felt her only one place—inside his heart.
“Lillian—” He gasped out. “Delilah. I don’t know even know what to call you now.”
“Wife,” she said with a strangled whisper. “Shane, I’m your wife.”
Wife. She rose to meet the last hard penetration that brought her climax, her body pulsing and shaking, and as he felt her plummet, Shane exploded, following her into oblivion, his consciousness almost fading from it, his head swimming, and the world becoming hazy and dark.
