“The pink rock,” Aaron said as he returned to the bed. He sat beside her, and they both looked at the gemstone in her palm.
“I didn’t tell you everything about it.” She tried to sound as serious as possible. “It’s an aphrodisiac.”
He stroked the inside of her thigh. “Babe, do you think we need an aphrodisiac?”
She dropped the pink rock on the table and ran her hands over his taut chest. “You are an aphrodisiac, Doc,” she said as the stroke of his fingers created a maelstrom of need inside her. “I think you must have a little outlaw in you.”
“Whatever it takes. You can call me Cole if you want.”
“No.” She laughed and gave the end of his nose a tap. “It’s you I want.”
“Say that again.” He pulled her close.
“It’s you I want.” She combed her fingers through his dark hair as they sank back on the mattress together. Tight and entwined. Tender and fierce.
“It’s you I want,” she sang in a whisper against his ear. Her heart wanted him. So did her body, and its swelling need took precedence. She clutched him tightly, her thighs shifting open to offer an enticing invitation.
He drew in her tongue, kissing her slowly as he accepted the invitation. She welcomed him with a breathy gasp. With his hand gripping her hip, they became a sweaty couple burning up the night, trying to get to a provocative place. A place of no return.
“It’s you I want,” he said while he rocked against her.
All she could do was dig her fingertips into his shoulders and whimper in response. Her feverish body arched against him, demanding and self-centered with one goal that prevailed over everything else. It was divine misery. Reeling from the feel of him, her legs gripped him tight.
For a moment, nothing mattered except the heat of their lovemaking. The world as she knew it slipped away as she spiraled out of control. “Aaron,” she called out to him as if only he could put an end to her agony.
“I’m here,” he murmured against her ear. “Always . . . always.” He held her tight, riding her hard until they both shattered like a couple of dazzling rockets shot into the night sky. Even after the moment had passed, she clung to him as if letting go would mean the end of the world.
“Lia.” He groaned her name, sounding almost drunk on passion. “God, that was . . . You’re amazing, sweetheart.”
She blinked, reality seeping back into her veins. She eased her hold on him. “It was the pink rock.”
He shifted onto his side. “Yeah.” He laughed. “If that’s the case, we need to get like fifty of them. Circle the bed with them. See if we could survive.”
“It’s all about what you believe.”
“I believe we’re great together with or without the pink rock.”
“Same here.” She gave his belly a quick kiss and headed for the bathroom.
Aaron felt a warm rush as he watched her walk away, her long black hair curling down her back and her curvy hips swaying. She closed the bathroom door, and he stretched out on the bed that looked as if a war had taken place on it.
He had never made love to a woman in this bed. He had bought it after his divorce, and he didn’t bring women home with him. That was something he didn’t do because it seemed too personal. He preferred hotel rooms where things were impersonal and distant. What he had just experienced in this bed went beyond personal to intimate. He had not been intimate with a woman since Molly.
He frowned as he thought about the shoebox filled with shitty memories from his first marriage and what Lia had told him: “I can’t make you any promises.”
During that conversation while they were watching the fireworks, he had wrapped himself in a lie.
Chapter 11
Aaron lifted the crisp, clean sheet and eased out of bed. He and Lia had changed the bed linens before finally settling down for the night. After another bout of lovemaking, she slept contentedly on her stomach. Her black hair fell askew over her bare back, the sheet draped over her hips and legs.
Silently, he pulled on his shorts, a T-shirt, and running shoes. He picked up his phone from the dresser and tapped the screen. The glow from the smartphone’s screen momentarily lit up the dark bedroom, and he looked at the woman sleeping in his bed.
Lia. He considered her phenomenal. She was the sexiest woman he’d ever been with, and for the first time in forever, he had felt something real and true. Not only in himself but also in her. He knew he was as close to heaven as he could get.
In the kitchen, he read the messages that had been sent to him when he had been too preoccupied to even think about his phone. The first text was from his father.
Be sure to water the flower bed around the mailbox.
His brother, Terry, had sent a photograph of his two-year-old daughter, Eva, with her blue eyes wide and her mouth open in shock over seeing her first fireworks show. Aaron laughed. Eva was so cute. He hoped Terry and his family would be able to come for a visit at Christmas so Eva could meet John Aaron, her new cousin.
Next was an irate message from Aaron’s supernerd brother, Greg, the physicist. He spent his days locked up in a secret lab doing classified work for the government. Greg had no people skills, and Stevie relished tormenting him.
Aaron, I understand that Steven is living with you and Father. I would appreciate it if you and Father would speak to him. Tonight, I have received five images of nude women from Steven, as if I am completely ignorant of the anatomical differences between males and females. I find the photographs disturbing and in poor taste.
Aaron chuckled as he sent Stevie a message at 4:02 a.m.
Hey, quit sending Greg porn. He doesn’t even know what it is.
Even though it was four in the morning, Stevie replied immediately.
ROTFLMAO! It wasn’t porn. I was in a strip club and decided to share the joy, bro.
Don’t share the joy again. Greg doesn’t handle joy well.
What are you doing up at 4?
I’m going for a run.
So have there been any fireworks happening at the house? A smiling devil emoji accompanied the message.
Aaron replied: The Burkes had some pretty cool ones last night.
That’s not the kind of fireworks I mean. You’re like one step up from Greg.
Mind your own business, asshole.
A cartoon of an animated cheerleader shaking pom-poms appeared.
“Shit,” Aaron muttered and stuck the phone in his pocket.
His footsteps fell quietly on the stairs as he made his way to the second floor. He flipped on the hall light and went into the last room on the left. His makeshift office was cluttered with boxes of medical books and personal files. He followed the path to his computer where he logged into the hospital system. He checked on his baby as well as three others in the nursery and a toddler he had seen in consult two days ago. According to the nurses’ notes and progress reports, it had been a quiet, uneventful night for all of them.
He stood and walked over to the closet. With the door open, he looked at the shoeboxes on the top shelf. He couldn’t remember what was in which box, so he opened lids until he found the right one. Once he had the right box, he set it on his desk.
He withdrew the envelope containing the divorce decree. He didn’t know if he would ever need it, but he decided he probably should keep it. After he had stuck the envelope in a file folder, he carried the shoebox downstairs. In the kitchen, he dumped the shoebox in the trash. Then he lifted the plastic liner from the trash can. The pictures from the shoebox mingled with the scraps inside the Chinese takeout containers, a pizza box, used paper towels, and yesterday’s newspaper.
Outside, the sky had lightened to a smoky gray. The moon had vanished, and a few dim stars lingered. A blue jay’s song replaced the loud fireworks. He tossed the trash bag in the garbage bin beside the storage shed.
It was an unceremonious farewell, something he should have done a long time ago. But when he had stored the remnants of his marriage in the box,
it had been too soon, and he’d been operating with a measure of disbelief at how his marriage had died. He hadn’t been willing to bury it then. He was willing to bury it now.
He stopped beside Lia’s red Jag. He thought back to last night, when he had stood next to her and felt his heart take a dive when she told him she’d found another place to stay. Even as she had said the words, he’d known her motive was not as simple as she made it out to be. Something had prompted it.
The shoebox. He’d heard the concern in her tone as she spoke. Her caution was more for him than her when she had said, “I will have to leave eventually. You know that.”
“The eighteenth. I know.” The date was engraved on his brain.
“Then you know I can’t make you any promises.” Translation: I don’t want to hurt you.
Next came his lie. “I’m fine with that.”
Yeah, sure. A promise was the one thing he wanted most. But, at that moment, he had ignored the truth inside himself. He’d convinced her to stay, and as the passion built between them, the lie spread through him. I’m good with this. Flirting with her. Having sex with her. Sending her back to Dallas on the eighteenth. He might have been able to manage the lie and even convince himself it was true.
Then she had said she wanted to make it last.
That had changed everything. There was no need for him to protect himself with the lie.
Now hope and possibility thrived inside him. Fueled by enthusiasm for the future, he started his three-mile run to the overlook on Everly Ridge Road. She wanted to make it last. He wanted to make it last. They could work on it together. They could make their relationship solid. After all, they already had a baby they both loved. The family tie was already there.
Come the eighteenth, Lia would be staying.
At the overlook, he mopped his sweaty face with the hem of his T-shirt and rested against the split-rail fence as the sun made its debut. He loved standing on the ridge, watching the sun rise. Next time he’d bring Lia with him. A burst of light whisked away the shadows from the sky, turning the heavens blue as the sun emerged. Glowing and white-hot, it awoke the forested hills and proclaimed the arrival of a new day.
A new day in all the ways that mattered. Aaron broke into a jog home.
* * *
On Tuesday morning, Lia attended the infant CPR class. The in-service instructor, Bob Ludlow, watched her go through the routine on a baby mannequin used for CPR training. She inhaled deeply and covered the mannequin’s nose and mouth with her mouth. Twice she puffed air into the mannequin, pausing between breaths to take in air herself. The mannequin’s chest rose.
“Very good.” Bob stood aside as she felt for the brachial pulse. “There’s no heartbeat.”
She began compressions using her third and fourth fingers, placed on the sternum. She compressed the breastbone area five times at a quick pace, counting aloud. She breathed into the mannequin’s mouth and nose. Then counted again. She had to repeat the cycle twenty times in one minute.
She checked for breathing and a pulse. Bob announced the baby was breathing. “Let’s do it again.” After three sessions, Bob told her, “I think you’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?” She wanted to be certain. “I have plenty of time. I can go through it again.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said.
Uncertain, she asked, “So you think in a real emergency I could do this?”
“I’ve got no doubts. If the time ever comes, you’ll find that focus overcomes fear.” He walked over to his desk and printed out a certificate. After he had signed it, he handed it to her. “Anytime you want to do a refresher course, just stop by the department.”
In the parking lot, she hopped in her Jaguar and headed for the Lafayette Falls historic district where she was having lunch with Aaron at the Country Corner Café. He was downtown meeting with his attorney about the scheduled visit from the home study provider on Thursday.
While she waited at an intersection, she watched a couple of workers at a furniture store removing the Fourth of July sale banners. She sang a few words that came to her as she thought of the weekend. “When I fell in love with you, comets lit the sky.” She hummed. “When I fell in love with you, I took your hand and my heart learned to fly.”
Her heart was still flying. She’d forgotten how exciting romance could be. It had been a long time since she had felt this alive, and she couldn’t recall ever having indulged herself the way she had with Aaron. She smiled as she drove down Commerce Parkway, thinking about the sudden rain cloud yesterday evening.
She and Aaron had been in Frank’s garden, picking tomatoes when the downpour started. Aaron had grabbed her hand. “The tree house.”
They made a dash for the tree house that was only a few feet from the garden. The rain pounded on them as they climbed the ladder to the structure nestled against the heavy trunk of an old oak tree. The tree house had a gabled roof, plank floor, open sides, and a back attached to the tree. Surrounding the tree house was a wood railing with latticework attached.
“Wow,” she said as she climbed inside. A gasp of delight escaped her lips as she saw the hand-painted mural on the back wall. A host of fairies played in a flower garden. “It’s a fairy house!”
“I think that was the intention. The previous owners who built it had a couple of little girls.” Aaron crawled inside and sat on the floor beside her; the interior height of the tree house was not more than five feet. He combed his wet hair off his forehead with his fingers.
She cradled her knees against her chest and watched the raindrops glide off the oak leaves. “A fairy house. I love it.”
“Kinda goes along with the pink rock.”
She elbowed him. “You know you believe.” She started singing “I’m a Believer,” a song she’d first heard in the movie Shrek and later performed during a high school musical.
He didn’t let her finish the song. His hand caught in her damp hair as he pulled her to him. She grasped his shoulders as their lips met. The rain hit the roof, and rivulets of clear water poured down around them. Wet clothes were discarded.
His hands ran over her cool flesh, heating it with his palms. She settled in his lap, facing him. Studying his face, the angle of his jaw, straight nose, and blue eyes beneath thick lashes. Sometimes just looking at him made her desperate. She cradled his face in her hands, and his lips parted. She slid her tongue between them, and he dug his fingertips into her hips.
The fresh scent of the summer rain lingered in the air and on their flesh. With a few squirms and adjustments, he was inside her where she was anything but cool. He lowered his head to her breasts, and she buried her fingers in his hair as she looked at the fairy mural.
Magic. It felt as if magic were all around her. In the rustle of the tree limbs and the patter of the rain on the roof. It was definitely in the man who held her tight. She murmured his name and grasped his hands, lacing her fingers between his. They kissed until they were beyond kissing. Affection gave way to the demand filling their bodies. Rising and falling. Find the perfect rhythm.
Inhibitions fled. He was so easy to love. Her body responded easily to him. All he had to do was touch her and she was hot, slick, and breathless. Her favorite moment came when she felt his body clench tight and a heated rush sent them spiraling into what the French called la petite mort. The little death. No term could be more appropriate. She loved dying the little death in Aaron’s arms and collapsing against him like she was a rag doll.
While kissing the freckles on his shoulder, she had looked at the colorful fairies that fluttered above pink and purple forget-me-nots. “Making love in a fairy house.” She had given her Prince Charming a wistful smile. “It’s a girl’s dream come true.”
He had grinned and given her a kiss on the cheek. “Sweetheart, do you have any idea how hard this wood floor is?”
Gotta love a practical guy. She parked the Jaguar in her favorite spot at Bluebird Park. The Bundle of Joy baby store was a
cross the street. Of course, she had promised Aaron she wouldn’t buy anything else. But, after lunch, she might stop in the store and talk to the manager, Katie, and give her an update on the baby. That’s all.
She sent Aaron a text message after she got out of the car, and he replied that he was already at the restaurant. She followed the directions he texted her, walking two blocks west on Washington Street, which was lined with brick storefronts that had been standing for more than a century. She stopped abruptly in front of one store and admired the display of new fall handbags in suede and embossed leather that was called the Prairie Collection. She loved the maroon slouch bag. Mentally, that went on her must-have list.
As she crossed Court Square, she saw the Country Corner Café, which was located in a turn-of-the-century building on the corner of Court and Main streets. Inside, it was a homey place with tables covered in red gingham, colorful baskets, and ceramic roosters on the walls. She’d been brought up on the classic country music streaming through overhead speakers.
Lia caught sight of Aaron standing across the room. He waved at her, and she went to join him. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Is this booth good?”
“Sure.” They sat opposite each other in the booth, and she asked how things had gone at the attorney’s office.
“Everything looks fine. He has all the paperwork ready, and the home study provider is scheduled to be at the house at ten Thursday morning,” he said. “I’ll be glad to have that over with.”
“Me, too.” She settled back in the booth. After the server had taken their order for salads and tea, she told Aaron about completing the class in infant CPR. Then she made a face at him and said, “I also read another chapter in my book.” She was referring to the book she’d bought, Your Baby’s First Year For Dummies. He had gone into hysterics when he had seen it on the bookshelf in the bedroom.
He was grinning now. “Before long you’re gonna be an expert.”
“Some people think they know everything.”
Not Through Loving You Page 15
