by Diana Palmer
"I was pining away because you were gone," she said, making a joke of it when it was the truth.
He figured that out easily enough, and smiled faintly. "I'm back now, and I'm not going away again. So you don't have any excuse to starve yourself."
"Just don't offer me bacon. Yuuuck!" She made a face. "God knows why, but it makes me sick."
He thought about the tiny thing that didn't like bacon, and his heart swelled. He couldn't tell her just yet that he hated bacon, too. His son or daughter had obviously inherited his taste already.
She didn't cook him bacon that night. Instead she baked a ham and made potato salad and homemade rolls to go with it, rounding off the meal with pecan pie, which was his favorite. Jean teased her about it, but Ivy didn't protest this time. She was so happy that she seemed to glow.
Ryder ate seconds of everything, the first food he'd really wanted or tasted in weeks. He'd lost a couple of pounds himself. His eyes swept over Ivy's radiant face with pure possession, lingering on her soft mouth. She was wearing a simple, oyster-white dress with a colorful burgundy patterned scarf—one he'd seen before—and it did something for her. He loved the way she looked in it.
She approved of him, too. He had on a white shirt with a tweed sports coat and dark slacks, and looked handsome enough to make her heart turn over.
After dessert, Jean—sensing new undercurrents—volunteered to do the dishes and chased Ivy and Ryder into the living room, tactfully closing the door between the two rooms with a grin.
"Cupid in a cotton apron," Ryder murmured his approval.
"Except for lack of a bow and arrows," Ivy agreed shyly.
"Good thing she doesn't know about Paris, or she'd probably break it over our heads, honey," he said. His pale eyes smiled down at her, liking her shyness. He reached out and drew her gently to him. "No heavy stuff," he promised as he bent his dark head and his breath whispered against her parting lips. "Just kisses this time, little one. We don't want things to get out of hand."
"Yes, we do," she whispered, moving closer to him.
He chuckled and kept her hips away from his with insistent hands. "Yes, we do," he agreed reluctantly. "But not here. Not tonight."
She slid her arms under his and pressed her cheek to his thin white shirt, feeling his heart beat hard and heavy under her ear. His body was warm and strong, and it was pure delight to hold him. "I haven't slept," she said involuntarily as she stared at the fireplace across his chest. There was a fire in it, because the electric heaters weren't enough to keep the old-fashioned house warm. The fireplace wasn't very efficient, but it did warm the small living room. And the fire was beautiful to look at.
"I haven't slept well, either," he confessed. "It wasn't other women. It was missing you in my arms at night. I got used to holding you until dawn."
"Shh," she cautioned, glancing worriedly toward the kitchen door. "Mama might hear you, and we don't want her to beat us."
"Dead right, we don't," he chuckled against the top of her head. His arms contracted. "But you missed sleeping with me, too, didn't you?"
She nodded. Her eyes closed and she sighed. He made her feel so feminine. It was nice to be able to lean on a man for a change. Ben had leaned on her, almost constantly.
"You've gone quiet. Why?" he asked.
"I was thinking about Ben. About the way he depended on me. I was thinking," she added when she felt him stiffen, "how nice it is to lean on you."
He relaxed again. "There's something you don't know about Ben," he said. "Here, sit next to me, Ivy. Before we go any farther together, you've got to know it all."
She moved off his lap, because he looked, and sounded, worried. He sat down next to her on the worn couch and clasped his hands behind his head as he spoke.
"Ben's father was killed in a wreck, because I sent orders for him to go out to a construction site and bring back some paperwork for me. He found a bottle of Scotch I kept in my desk drawer, and he was heavily intoxicated when they cut him out of the car." He didn't look at her. Not yet. "That was when Ben's life fell apart. It was why he started drinking. So you see," he finished heavily, "I'm partially responsible for every problem you had in your marriage."
She sat very still for a minute, thinking about her own guilt and the way her mother had made her face it. Ryder hadn't faced his own. She had to help him do that. She could, now, because she was finally free of her past.
Her hand reached out and touched his, stroking it gently. "Nobody is responsible for anybody else's problems," she said quietly. "Ben drank supposedly because of his father's death, but he had a choice, Ryder. We all have choices, and sometimes we make the wrong ones. Ben did. I did. Now I have to go on living, and so do you. Looking back won't help. All the regrets in the world won't change one single second of what happened."
He scowled, staring pointedly at her.
"Mama helped me sort out my own guilt," she explained simply. "I got through it. I failed Ben, but he didn't have to stay with me and he didn't have to drink. Those were his choices."
He twined her fingers around his. "I've carried that around for a long time. It's been between us." He studied her hand. "I thought you might blame me."
She smiled. "No. I don't blame you for anything. Except dragging me home from Paris before I got to see the Eiffel Tower," she clarified, grimacing at him.
He laughed softly, feeling free. "My God, I did, didn't I? I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't thinking too clearly about then."
"Why did we leave so suddenly?" she asked, confident enough now to ask the question.
"Don't you know?" He lifted her across his lap and let her head fall back into the crook of his elbow. "We wouldn't have been able to stop. We'd have had each other all day, every day, from then on, for as long as we stayed there. We had Jean when we came home, to save us from ourselves. We still do."
"Yes, but with Kim Sun gone, there's no one in your house," she said slowly.
He smiled at her. "I won't take you home with me. Jean wouldn't like that, with her sense of propriety, and I won't have your reputation threatened."
"How old-fashioned," she whispered.
"That's the way I am, except when gorgeous black-eyed brunettes make me lose my head." He kissed her softly, so that when he spoke, his lips were just touching hers. "I wish I could make you pregnant, Ivy," he whispered sensually, with a secret smile, and waited for her reply.
She trembled. A tiny sound purred out of her throat as she reacted to the words. She reached up and pulled his face closer so that her mouth could grind hungrily into his. "So do I," she whimpered. "Ryder, so do I!"
His arms contracted and the kiss went on and on, building feverishly in the silence as the magic spun between them. His tongue thrust softly into her open mouth, stirring her so deeply that she caught one of his big, lean hands, and carried it hungrily to her breast.
He tried to draw back, but her nails bit into the back of his hand and held it there.
"This isn't a good idea," he managed huskily.
"Oh, yes, it is," she whispered against his mouth. Her arms slid up and around his neck, lifting her breast closer into his hot palm. "I want to take off my clothes," she moaned. "I want to make love with you right here on the floor!"
"God Almighty, I'll die!" he groaned. His mouth burned down into hers and his hand dropped to her stocking-clad legs, sliding under the hem of the dress to find her soft, warm thigh.
"Ivy…!"
The furious rattle of pots and pans alerted them to the approach of Jean.
Ryder lifted his head and moved his hand back to her waist with flattering reluctance. His breath was jerky, like her own, and his heartbeat was shaking him.
"I guess you'll really think I'm wanton now," she whispered unsteadily. "I don't care. I'll never be able to feel this with anyone else."
"I should hope not," he murmured gently and smiled through his fierce desire. Especially in your condition, he could have added. He pushed back her long hair. "And for the reco
rd, I don't think you're wanton. I think you're a normal woman with a very healthy attitude toward intimacy. I'm glad you trust me enough to give me that kind of freedom with your body."
"Do you want me that badly?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Oh, yes." His voice was quiet, but there was a breathless hunger in it.
She leaned against him, letting her cheek rest on the rough tweed of his jacket. Her eyes closed. "I don't want to get up. Do I have to?"
"Your mother might get the wrong idea, sweetheart," he said at her temple. "We'd better be circumspect for a while."
"All right." She let him lift her onto the sofa and only just in time, because Jean came in with a tray of coffee seconds later. She beamed at them, sitting close together on the sofa, her approval in her face.
But approvals didn't keep her from her self-appointed role of chaperone when Ryder came to supper or just to watch movies he brought for, he said, his own pleasure. He brought first-run movies, too, and sat with his arm around Ivy while they watched them.
He never suggested that they go to his house, and he made sure that he and Ivy didn't spend too much time alone. Mean-while, he sent her flowers and called her up late at night just to talk, and gloried in his secret knowledge about her condition. Sometimes it was all he could do not to run down the street telling everybody he met. She was carrying his child, and she didn't know it. That had to be a first. He smiled to himself, sometimes, just watching her, delighted with her beauty, her poise, her evident pleasure in his company. It was like a taste of heaven.
All the while, she kept on working for him, and it was hard for him to keep his mind on the job. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
With secret joy, she caught him watching her at her desk after a visiting architect had left the office.
He lifted an eyebrow, smiling as he propped his shoulder against the door between her office and his and stared openly. "You're a dish," he murmured. "The color's starting to come back into your face now."
"I feel better," she agreed. "Well, except for being sleepy all the time."
He was fighting with himself, wanting to carry her into a doctor's office and insist that she be checked, so that he could be sure she was all right. It had only been a short time since he came home, though, and he had to approach her in the right way. Their whole lives hinged on what he did now. He couldn't afford to rush their relationship, but he couldn't wait much longer, either.
"Do I have any more appointments for the day?" he asked.
She checked the calendar. "Nothing until tomorrow," she said. "Are you leaving?"
"We both are." He shouldered away from the wall and called his vice president, informing Mr. Wood that he and Ivy were leaving for the day and to please have one of the assistants answer the phone in his office.
"But where are we going?" she asked as they drove off in Ryder's car.
"Over to Kolomoki Mounds," he told her, naming a site where the forerunners of the Lower Creek Indians had lived. The mounds were huge and deserted most of the winter. In summer they drew tourists and archaeology students in equal numbers.
"Isn't it the wrong time of year?" she faltered.
"Not for what we're going to do. Are you up to climbing the Temple Mound?" he added with a quiet glance.
It was almost fifty-two feet up to the grassy top of the mound, and while there were concrete steps and metal rails to hold on to, it was still a hard climb.
"I think so," she said. "Why there?"
"Now that Kim Sun is back, where else can we be completely alone together?" he asked without looking at her.
She flushed. There was a note in his voice that thrilled her, and her body tingled. She was wearing a long wool plaid skirt with a white blouse and blue sweater. Fortunately she'd worn flat black shoes and not the high heels she usually favored. She could climb. Her eyes darted to him. He was in a dark blue suit, matching her color scheme as usual.
"We really aren't dressed for climbing mounds," she began.
"We aren't dressed for rolling around in the grass, either, but that's what's going to happen when I get you up there," he said matter-of-factly, and with a rueful smile in her direction. "Or do you think we're going to be able to sit and talk without touching each other?"
She leaned her head back against the seat and stared at him hungrily. "I don't think that's even possible."
"Neither do I, little one." He reached for her hand and tangled his fingers sensuously with hers. "If it gets out of hand, I'll be exquisitely tender with you."
"Would you let it…get out of hand?" she whispered huskily, because until now, he'd been the one holding back.
He turned off onto the road that led to the mound site, his eyes briefly touching hers. "If you want me to."
That thought tantalized her all the way there. The mounds were impressive, located on red dirt roads. There were smaller mounds, but the temple mound towered over the flat plain, dominating its tree-lined surroundings. Trees dripped Spanish moss and thistles abounded in the unspoiled land. Ivy hoped that the area around the park never deteriorated into the kind of overbuilt tourist trap so common in other parts of the state. It was like walking back a thousand years into the past to come here, to hear the stillness, the bird songs in spring and summer, the wildflowers that bloomed in warmer weather. Now, with the trees bare and the grass dead, it was ghostly. There wasn't a soul around, although they had passed a government vehicle farther back.
Ryder held Ivy's hand, moving slowly up the steps with her, careful not to let her trip. She didn't understand the reason for his concern, so it struck her as wonderfully overprotective and she delighted in it.
When they were on top of the mound, still breathless from the climb, he put a protective arm around her and they looked out over the landscape.
"You can see forever from up here," she sighed.
"Not quite. Too many trees in the way. Out west you could climb this high and see for miles, because there's nothing to obstruct the horizon."
She looked up at him. "I enjoyed Arizona," she said.
"So did I." He turned her in his arms and looked down into her rapt face. "I love you, Ivy," he said softly. And he kissed her.
Tears spilled from her eyes while she clung to him. The words ricocheted through her trembling body, a beloved echo that went on and on and on.
"You didn't say that." She wept against his hungry mouth. "You didn't, did you? I must have dreamed it!"
"I said it," he breathed. His mouth touched her eyelids, closing them over the salty tears trickling from her eyes. "You didn't dream it. I sometimes think I dreamed you. I loved you when you were eighteen, but I thought you were too young and I overreacted the first time I kissed you. I waited a few years and thought I'd try again, but I'd frightened you too badly and you ran to Ben." He lifted his head and sighed bitterly as he searched her face. "I thought you loved him," he said somberly. "That's why I stayed away after the funeral. I gave you a job, just so I could be near you, and spent night after lonely night trying to find ways to tell you how I felt."
"Oh…Ryder!" Her voice broke and the tears rained down her face. "I loved you…wanted you…lived for you. Ben knew and hated you, hated me, hated us both…!"
His eyes flashed wildly and his mouth was on hers, drowning out the words. He lifted her, too hungry to think about her condition as he fitted her body to his and kissed her with all the stored-up passion of years. She loved him. She'd said she loved him!
"Didn't you know?" she moaned when he stopped long enough to let them draw shaky breaths.
"No," he said unsteadily. His eyes searched her face with such love that she felt humble. "I never dreamed you might care for me that way. In Paris, I knew I could make you want me, but it wasn't enough. I never meant to let it go that far, but it had been so long and I wanted you desperately. So desperately," he breathed at her lips. "I'm not sorry for it, but I wish we'd both known at the time what we felt for each other was mutual."
"We know
now," she said achingly. "Please marry me. I won't ever be able to say no to you again, and it will be such a scandal for mother to live through if we're just living together."
Shock waves trembled through his body. He'd been tormenting himself with ways to ask her, and she'd beat him to the punch. He almost laughed out loud.
"Do you want that?" he whispered, gently teasing her. "To be my wife. To live with me, always?"
"Yes," she said fervently. "I'll take such wonderful care of you, Ryder. I'll cook—well, Kim Sun and I will cook," she amended, thinking how much she'd enjoy that, because she and Kim Sun got along so well together. "And I'll look after you when you're sick and love you so sweetly at night."
His heart ran wild. He searched her soft eyes and bent to kiss her with aching tenderness, shaking all over with the newness of loving and being loved, belonging to someone.
"I'll love you just as sweetly," he breathed. His lips hardened insistently on hers and he held her closer, letting her feel his aching arousal. "I'd hoped it would be warmer here," he ground out, feeling the cold wind whip around them—a wind much too cold for the lovemaking he'd wanted to share with her.
"So had I," she whispered. "Ryder…we could park the car somewhere," she began.
He lifted his head, smoldering inside, and looked into her lovely face. He wanted her beyond bearing, especially now, but he didn't want to spoil what they had. "No," he said after a minute. "Not ever like that. I love you far too much to reduce what we share to a feverish interlude in the back seat of a car." He eased her hips away from his with a rueful smile at her knowing look. "And yes, I'm tempted. You can feel how bad it is for me."
"It was that bad in Paris," she recalled, coloring prettily.
"You don't really know why, do you?" he asked gently. He framed her face in his lean hands and nuzzled his cheek against hers. "Ivy, since the day I realized I loved you, there hasn't been a woman."
She drew back a little. "Two years, you said," she whispered.
"I lied." He linked his hands behind her and swung her lazily from side to side. "It's been five."
"Oh, my goodness," she burst out. "No wonder…!"
