Balancing Act

by Fern Michaels

  “Said for you to wait if you got here before he got back. I wish my boyfriend would worry about me like that,” the waitress said, placing the cup in front of Rita.

  “Jody, and David, that’s their names,” Rita said triumphantly.

  “Whose names?” the waitress asked, inching away from Rita.

  “My grandchildren. What time was the man with the snowmobile last in here?”

  “An hour at least, wouldn’t you say?” the waitress asked the trucker.

  “Yeah, a good hour. He’s about due. We got bets on him around here.”

  “I bet you do. I have a kind of bet myself.” Rita smiled.

  “He your husband?” the trucker asked curiously.

  “No,” Rita said quietly.

  “Oh, one of those.”

  “Yeah, one of those.” Rita grinned.

  “Nothing wrong with that.” The trucker grinned back.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Rita said over the rim of her coffee cup.

  The door opened. Rita’s head jerked up. Her world stood in the doorway.

  “Hi, I heard you were looking for me.”

  “Didn’t have anything to do. Lady, you scared the goddamn living hell out of me,” Twigg said, sitting down next to her. His eyes never left hers. “You okay?” Rita nodded.

  “You look like you’re frozen,” she said. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his.

  “Frozen! I’m too numb to feel it if I am. They got bets running on me here, did you know that?”

  “I heard. Drink this coffee,” she said, pushing her mug toward him.

  “The roads are impassable. I think we can both ride the snowmobile. Tight fit.”

  “I like tight fits,” she said, her eyes still on his.

  “So do I.” His voice was husky and there were shadowy secrets in his eyes. She took his hands, warming them in hers. Her head fell against his shoulder and she felt his lips brush her hair.

  Twigg heard her sigh, felt the treasured weight of her head on his shoulder. She was quiet, so quiet. “Penny for your thoughts, love.”

  “I was just thinking that maybe it’s time we talked about that small word,” Rita murmured.

  “Are we talking about that small word that’s so awesome? You mean ‘love’?” The shadows in his eyes lifted and he gazed at her sharply, steadily. There would never be a backing away with this man. His honesty would prevent it.

  “That’s the one.”

  “You ready to talk about it?” he questioned.

  “I think so.” Rita grinned.

  “Don’t think, Rita, my love. With me, you’ve got to know for certain.”

  “I know so. Let’s go home.”

  “Your place or mine,” he teased, that familiar, seductive glint visible in his eyes.

  “Yours. I have a guest.”

  They laughed with each other, standing to leave the diner, eager to be alone with one another. Impetuously, Twigg took her into his arms, lifting her chin to kiss her softly on the lips. Rita was oblivious to the eyes and stares from the others in the diner; she only knew she was in Twigg’s arms, being kissed by him, being wanted by him.

  He hurried her out into the cold night. Their night. The snow was falling steadily, silently. Breathless, exhilarated by his nearness, Rita found herself once again in his embrace. She lifted her face for his kiss, unashamed to ask for it now, and she felt his lips trembling against hers.

  He held her in the circle of his arms; she felt him strong and tall against her. This was her love. He had waited for her to learn about herself. He had trusted her to do so. She now knew she didn’t need to be a perfect, stereotypical mother. She did not need to feel guilty for wanting to be more than a wife and homemaker. What she did need, Twigg offered: to be a woman with him, the lover who touched her soul and knew her for the woman she was and not for the roles all women must play.

  I love him, for all I am and for all I can be.

  Free Spirit

  Chapter One

  Only the rustling of their bodies against the sheets and the soft sounds of their murmurings broke the silence of the night. She nestled against him, burrowing her head into the hollow of his neck, the silly strands of her pale blond hair falling over his shoulder. She breathed the scent of him, mingled with the fragrance of her own perfume. Her fingers teased the light furring of his chest hairs; her leg, thrown intimately over his, felt the lean, sinewy muscles of his thigh.

  They were like light and shadow—she silvered, the color of moonlight, and he dark, like the night. He held her, gentle hands soothing her, bringing her back down from erotic heights.

  It was the best of all times, this moment after making love, when all barriers were down and satiny skin melted into masculine hardness. This closeness was the true communion of lovers who had brought peace and satisfaction to one another.

  Dory Faraday burrowed deeper into the nest of Griff’s embrace. He drew her closer and she smiled. She loved this hunk, as she liked to call him. He was good for her in every way—understanding her and accepting her for the person she was.

  “Want to talk about it?” Griff asked softly, as his fingers traced lazy patterns up her arm.

  “I suppose we should. It’s just that this is such a perfect moment, and I hate to tamper with perfection.” She felt his smile through the darkness. They had discussed Griff’s leaving New York for months, but now that the time had almost arrived, Dory was finding it hard to accept. Washington, D.C., was only forty-five minutes away by air, but this knowledge did not bring her comfort. Holding tightly to Griff, Dory whispered, “This is our last day. I’m going to miss you until it’s time for me to join you. Up to now, everything has been so perfect. We had our work, our careers . . .” She stopped to dab at her eyes with the hem of the lavender-scented sheet.

  “Shhh. Don’t cry, Dory.” His touch was comforting as he wiped away her tears with the tips of his fingers. “It’s only a few weeks. D.C. is only minutes away, and we can talk on the phone in the evening. You said you understood.” His wasn’t an accusing tone, but Dory felt compelled to move and struggled to prop herself on one elbow to face him.

  “I do understand, Griff. It’s a golden opportunity for you and you had the idea long before you met me. You deserve this chance. You’ll broaden your horizons and do the work you like best. It’s just that I’m going to miss you. Simple as that. I also have a few qualms about telling Lizzie I want a leave of absence.”

  There was an anxious note in Griff’s voice, and he reached to touch the silky strands of Dory’s hair, rubbing them between his fingertips. “You aren’t anticipating any problems, are you?” If he had been in a less romantic position, he would have crossed his fingers. How he loved this long-legged woman with the lithe cougar walk and one hundred sixty-two pairs of shoes. When she offered to take a leave of absence to join him in Washington, he had been more than pleased, but he was also apprehensive. Was it selfish of him to agree that Dory give up her prestigious position at Soiree magazine? He admired her independence and didn’t want to infringe on her career. Life in D.C. would be different for her but, as she explained, it would also present new opportunities. That had made him feel better, but now he wished, for the thousandth time, that she would accept his proposal of marriage instead of opting for a live-in arrangement. At least he would see more of her in D.C. than here in New York, where Dory lived in her small but stylish apartment while he continued occupying his loft. If things worked out with his new partnership in the veterinary clinic and if Dory could find challenging work, perhaps she would change her mind. Marriage was what Griff really wanted.

  “No, honey, I’m not anticipating problems with Lizzie. She’s fair and I’ve worked hard. The magazine can hardly refuse me a leave of absence to pursue my doctorate, can they?” She rushed on, as though not wanting to entertain for one instant the possibility that her request might be refused. “I can do all the freelance work I want from Washington. Contrary to popular opinion, Griff, New York i
s not the only city in the world where a woman can find work. Meaningful work. Even if we live in Alexandria or Arlington, school and work won’t be a problem.” Her tone was only a shade less anxious than Griff’s, and if the room weren’t darkened, he would have seen her vivid green eyes cloud with questions. “You aren’t having second thoughts, are you, Griff?”

  “Good God, no!” He ran his fingers through his thick, chestnut hair, the soft waves falling over his wide forehead. “I just want you to be aware of what you’re getting into. I’m going to be up to my neck in work for the first couple of months, and our long, lazy weekends are going to come to a screeching halt. The clinic is going to consume me, love. Rick and John are going to be just as busy, so you’ll have their wives to keep you company. You’re going to be pretty busy, too, going to Georgetown University and keeping house and freelancing. I’ll help as much as I can, but I think we should find housekeeping help right off the bat. Don’t you?”

  Dory pondered the question. “Not right away. Let me settle in and then decide what I can and can’t handle. It’s going to work out, Griff. Let me take care of the domestic end of things and you concentrate on the veterinary clinic and your partners.” She leaned down and found his mouth, delighting in the feel of his lips against hers and the slight abrasiveness of his mustache.

  “I should be getting back to the loft.” He stretched and squinted at the radium dial of the bedside clock. Three ten. His eye fell to the floor and the persimmon froth of her discarded nightgown. A lazy look veiled his expression as he lay back down and felt himself stiffening beneath the sheets. What the hell, he could just as easily leave an hour later. This was now and there were some things that would always be more important than sleep. Griff Michaels’s Law. He smiled indolently, turning to gather Dory in his arms and nuzzle the softness of her neck.

  Dory sensed his immediate mood change and allowed herself to be carried with it. One moment his arms cradled her, soothing her, the next they became her prison, hard, strong, inescapable. She loved him like this, when the wildness flooded his veins and she could feel it beating through him. It brought her a sense of power to know that she could arouse these instincts in him. She yielded to his need for her, welcoming his weight upon her, flexing her thighs to bring him closer.

  His hands were in her hair, on her breasts, on the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He stirred her, demanded of her, rewarded her with the adoring attention of his lips to those territories his hands had already claimed. And when he possessed her it was with a joyful abandon that evoked a like response in her: hard, fast, then becoming slower and sweeter.

  She murmured her pleasure and gave him those caresses he loved. Release was there, within their grasp, but like two moths romancing a flame, they played in the heat and postponed that exquisite instant when they would plunge into the inferno.

  Dory rolled over and stretched luxuriously, feeling vibrant and alive. Griff’s vigorous lovemaking always left her ready to conquer worlds and build universes. There was no point in going back to sleep now. She might as well shower and get to the office early after a leisurely breakfast.

  A wicked grin stretched across her lips as she watched Griff dress. “You look better in those jockey shorts than any Calvin Klein model. Griff, how about doing a layout for Soiree?”

  Griff laughed. “And have every female who reads that racy magazine lusting after me? I have all I can do to handle my bills, let alone tons of fan mail. Besides, how would it look to old Mrs. Bettinger when she sees it? God, she’d never bring her cats to me again.”

  “Nerd. She isn’t going to be bringing her cats to you anymore. You’re moving, remember? A head shot? How about a beefcake layout?”

  “I can see the headline now: ‘Stud Michaels, his own best endorsement.’ ”

  Dory giggled. “It would be something to show your grandchildren.”

  Griff frowned. She hadn’t said “our” grandchildren. Immediately he erased the frown. Time. Time would take care of everything.

  His kiss was long and lingering. Dory clung to him with a feverishness that surprised him. “Don’t forget we’re going to the theater with my aunt tonight.”

  Griff smacked his forehead. “It’s a good thing you reminded me. I forgot all about it.”

  “You’re going to love Aunt Pixie.”

  “The question is, will she love me?”

  “She’s going to adore you just the way I adore you. If there’s one thing Pix is good at, it’s sizing up a man. You’ll pass muster.”

  For a moment Griff wore a frazzled look. “Dory, all those outrageous things you told me about her. Were they true or were you putting me on? It’s not that I care, it’s just that I want to be sure to say the right thing to her. I really want her to like me,” he finished lamely.

  “Don’t worry. She’s going to love you. And, with Pixie you could never do or say the wrong thing. She is outrageous. I used to think everyone had an aunt like her, but she’s unique. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Anytime I have a problem, she’s there. She’s been more of a mother to me than my own mother. Look, if you’re really worried we could meet in a coffeehouse for a visit before going on to the theater. Would that make you feel better?”

  Griff nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll give you a call when we’re ready to leave. Now go home and stop worrying. Or are you putting me on and what you’re really worried about is this big change in your life?”

  Griff grinned. “Lady, you know me too well. Of course I’m concerned. This is a major step in my life. I want it so bad I can taste it, but I still have butterflies when I think about it.”

  “Go home. Think happy thoughts,” Dory said impishly as she pushed him from her. “See you tonight.”

  He was gone. For a brief moment it seemed as though the walls were going to close in on her, but she recovered quickly. He was gone but it wasn’t the end. In more ways than one it was a new beginning. She felt confident, sure of herself and her new choices. Options were something she liked. Options were a part of her life.

  Her nakedness was something else she was comfortable with as she padded out to the kitchen to prepare the two-cup coffeepot. She would soak in a nice warm tub and work on her checkbook while the coffee perked. Some French toast for sustenance, and she would be ready to face her day.

  The warm, steamy wetness worked its magic as she deftly computed the numbers in her checkbook. It looked good. This month she had an even two hundred dollars left that she could invest. She was pleased with the way she had handled her finances. All her bills were paid, money was set aside for the next three weeks for lunches, cab fare, hairdresser, even a new pair of shoes if the mood struck her. She calculated her airline fare into her totals and still she was ahead. Her small portfolio was looking better and better as the months went on. She could exist for an entire year on her savings account alone if she suddenly found herself jobless. Not bad for a career girl who just turned thirty-one.

  Dory attacked her breakfast the way she did everything, with energy and gusto, savoring each mouthful. She enjoyed everything about life, more so now that Griff was a part of it. An important job at one of the most prestigious magazines in the country, a wonderful relationship, money in the bank all gave her the confidence she needed to be part of the active life in New York.

  She would miss it. But nothing was forever. Now the important thing was being with Griff and taking the proper steps to finish her doctorate.

  While the breakfast dishes soaked, Dory poked through her walk-in closet. It was bigger than her tiny living room, and the main reason she had leased the apartment. She finally selected a fawn-colored Albert Nipon original. She loved the feel of the exquisite silk that was one of Nipon’s trademarks. She scanned the specially built shelves holding her shoes. The sexy Bruno Magli strap shoe was the perfect choice.

  When she left her apartment an hour later she was the epitome of the successful New York career woman. Her lithe cougar walk, as Griff liked to call h
er long-legged stride, drew more than one admiring glance. She was not unaware of her image, and she reveled in it as she slid gracefully into a cab, returned the driver’s smile, and gave the address of Soiree.

  Dory leaned back and closed her eyes for the ride uptown. Her thoughts were with Griff. Until he came into her life six months ago, she had been so busy carving out a career and seeing to her financial future that she dated rarely, preferring casual relationships that wouldn’t get sticky. But all her good intentions fell by the wayside the moment she met Griffin Michaels. It was at a cocktail party given by Oscar de la Renta, and Griff had been dating one of the designer’s models. He had looked so elegant in his Brooks Brothers suit and shoes that she had smiled. Loose was the only word that came to her mind at the time. He didn’t exactly fit in with that crowd, yet he did. He wasn’t impressed, of that she was certain; in fact, he seemed to be bored by all the surface glamour and sophistication. She had taken the initiative and introduced herself. Things progressed rapidly; within the hour he made his apologies to his date, who was hanging onto a male model, and he and Dory left together to have a drink at a small cocktail lounge.

  It was a wonderful old-fashioned courtship. Long walks in Central Park, weekend dates that always ended at her front door at midnight or shortly thereafter. Delicious, searing kisses that left her breathless and wanting more were a way of life for six weeks until he finally seduced her. Or had she seduced him? It didn’t matter now. Now they were truly together.

  They found they had much in common. They both knew the words to all the Golden Oldies and often danced in her small living room to the beautiful songs. They loved the same writers and laughingly compared books. He loved walking in the rain as much as she did and regarded snow as the most wondrous thing in the world.

  He never crowded her, never asked for more than she was prepared to give. He was patient and understanding, and Dory loved him all the more for it.