With that thought, he put Jessica from his mind and began counting the hours until he would pick up Dana.
“Hey, Ms. Brantley,” Tony said, pressing his thin body against her side as Dana sat at her desk. His eyes were cast down and he was chewing on his lower lip. She’d never seen him looking quite so troubled. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“How come my grandma doesn’t like you? Did you have a fight or something?”
Dana felt a little frisson of fear curl along her spine at Tony’s guileless question. “Why would you think she doesn’t like me?”
“She was acting real weird last night. Every time I said your name she’d change the subject and Grandpa kept making these funny faces at her. I think he was mad, ’cause after dinner they were arguing in the kitchen. Grandma broke one of her best plates, too. I heard it. And then she cried.”
Dana felt like crying, too. How could Jessica put Tony in the middle this way? No matter what she thought of Dana, Tony’s grandmother was wrong to let her feelings affect a ten-year-old who’d already suffered too much in his young life. “I’m very sorry about that, Tony. The last thing I’d ever want to do would be to come between you and your grandparents.”
She took a deep breath and forced herself to say, “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t spend quite so much time at the library for a little while, especially now that it’s summer and school’s out.”
His eyes immediately clouded over and his shoulders stiffened at what he obviously considered a rejection. “Don’t you want me here?”
She put a comforting arm around his waist and squeezed. “Oh, kiddo, don’t ever think that. You’re my best pal. But before I came to town, you used to go to your grandparents’ place every day after school, didn’t you? And I’ll bet you’d been spending your summers out at the farm.”
“Yeah, but I like it here better. There are other kids around and you’re here. Dad says it’s okay with him if I come here instead. I told him I was helping you.”
“And you are a big help. But did you ever think that maybe your grandparents are missing you? Grandparents are pretty special people. I never had a chance to know mine. They lived far away and they died before we could go to see them. I certainly don’t want to keep you away from yours all the time.”
Tony chewed on his lip as he considered what she’d said. “Maybe I could go there some days,” he said grudgingly. “And I’m staying there again tonight. Dad said so when he picked me up this morning. He said he was gonna take you out.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” Obviously she was going to have to stay on her toes or Nick would be railroading her into a relationship before she was ready. She had promised him a chance. She hadn’t planned to let him dominate her life. Tonight she’d make that very clear.
But that night, Nick seemed determined that there would be no serious talk. Each time she tried to broach anything important, he took her back onto the virtually empty postage-stamp-size dance floor and whirled her around until she was too breathless to say anything.
“I’m too old for this,” she said, gasping as she tried to return to the table.
“You’re younger than I am. Get back over here.”
“I have to have something to drink.”
“No problem,” Nick said, sweeping her into his arms. Two artfully executed and dramatic tango steps later, they reached their table and he picked up her glass of soda and offered it to her with a flourish.
“One sip,” he cautioned. “The tango is my favorite dance. I don’t intend to miss a second of it.”
“Why couldn’t you like to waltz?” she moaned, collapsing dramatically in his arms, an action that drew smiles and applause from the people at neighboring tables.
“Waltzing requires no energy.”
“Do you consider this a form of exercise? I always thought dancing was supposed to be romantic.”
“The tango is romantic.”
“Two hours ago the tango was romantic. Now it’s an endurance test.”
“On your feet, Brantley. I didn’t put this badminton net up for the fun of it,” Nick said the following afternoon.
“I still haven’t recovered from dancing,” Dana said, lying on the chaise lounge waving a magazine to stir a breeze. She felt a little like the way Ginger Rogers must have felt after a particularly tiring movie date with Fred Astaire.
“Stop complaining, get up and serve.”
She dragged herself to her feet, picked up the racket and shuttlecock. She took a halfhearted swing. The bird barely lifted over the net before taking a nosedive to Nick’s well-tended lawn. He was caught standing flatfooted about ten yards back.
“What was that?” he demanded indignantly.
“A winning serve,” she retorted modestly.
“Tony, get out here. Your father needs help. This woman is cheating.”
“No, she’s not,” Tony called from the swing on the porch. “I saw her, Dad. She won the point fair and square.”
“Thank you,” Dana said. She glowered at Nick and said huffily, “If you’re going to be a sore loser, we could switch to croquet.”
“Just serve.”
Dana won the game handily and turned the racket over to Tony. “Be kind to your father,” she said in a stage whisper. “He’s not as nimble as he once was.”
“What’s nimble?”
“It means his bones are getting old and creaky.”
“Thanks a lot,” Nick grumbled.
Dana waved cheerfully as she went inside to check on the potatoes for the German potato salad she’d promised to fix for Tony. As she plucked the steaming potatoes from the water and peeled them, she watched the badminton game through the kitchen window. Suddenly she realized she was humming and there was a smile on her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she had ever felt this lighthearted. Her life felt right for the first time in years. This was what marriage was supposed to be like, relaxed and joyous with an edge of sexual tension. Yes, indeed, all the elements were there.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that the game had ended or that Nick had come into the kitchen.
“Why the smile?” he said, coming up behind her and circling his arms around her waist. His breath whispered along her neck and sent shivers dancing down her spine.
“I was just thinking how good I feel. Complete, somehow. Does that make any sense?”
He turned her around in his arms and held her loosely. “I think it does, and you couldn’t have said anything I would rather hear.”
Nick’s gaze caught hers and she swallowed hard at the look she saw in the hazel depths. “Nick…”
“Don’t analyze it, Dana. Just feel.” He hesitated. “Okay?”
Her heart raced, thundering in her chest. Never looking away from his eyes, she nodded and he slowly lowered his lips to hers. The quick brush of velvet was followed by the hungry claim of fire. Nick’s hands rested lightly on her hips in a gesture meant to reassure her of her freedom to choose between the bright flame of passion and the gentle touch of caring.
She had thought the tenderness would be enough, that it would be all she could handle, but she found herself wanting more and she stepped toward the heat. Her arms slid around Nick’s neck, lifting her breasts against his chest. The nipples hardened into sensitive buds. Her hands threaded through the coarse thickness of his hair. His tongue found hers and together they performed a mating dance as old as time.
She could feel the tension in the breadth of Nick’s shoulders, could sense his struggle for restraint, and that, in the end, caused her to step away.
Nick watched her closely. “Are you okay?”
“It was just a kiss, Nick.”
“It was more than a kiss and you know it. It was a beginning and we both know where it’s going to lead.”
Her pulse lurched unsteadily, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Nick’s intent examination. “I know,” she finally said in a choked whisper.
“I won’t rush you, Dana. It won’t happen until you’re ready.”
“I’m not sure I’ll know when that is.”
“I will,” he said, and his confidence made her blood sing with giddy anticipation.
“How could you possibly double with a bridge hand that looked like that?” Nick demanded of Dana a few nights later.
“I warned you I wasn’t very good.”
“But any idiot knows you don’t double unless you have high points in your opponent’s trump suit. Did you have a single diamond?”
“I had the two and five,” Dana said meekly.
Nick’s voice thundered through Betsy Markham’s living room. “The two and five!” He came up out of his chair and leaned toward Dana. Instead of being frightened and backing away, she stood up, put her hands on the card table and glared right back at him. They stood there nose to nose, Nick glowering and Dana’s eyes glinting with amusement.
“I warned you,” she said again, relishing the newfound self-confidence that permitted her to bicker with Nick publicly without fear of repercussions.
Betsy chuckled. “Maybe I should get the peach pie now, before war erupts in my living room.”
“Maybe you’d better,” Nick agreed, still not taking his eyes away from Dana. When Betsy and Harry had made a discreet exit into the kitchen, Nick muttered, “Come here.”
“Why should I get any closer if you’re just going to yell at me?”
“I’m not going to yell.”
“What are you going to do?”
“This.” His mouth captured hers for a lingering kiss.
When he finally moved back, Dana caught her breath, then said, “I’ll have to remember to foul up my bid in the next hand, too, if that’s the punishment I’m going to get.”
“That was no punishment. That was a warning. When you get to the library tomorrow, check out a book on bridge.”
“Why don’t you just play with Betsy as your partner? She knows what she’s doing.”
“Yeah, but she’s not nearly as pretty.” He punctuated his comment with another kiss. “Or as sexy.” And another. “Or as much fun to tease.”
The last kiss might have gone on forever, but Betsy and Harry came back with the pie and ice cream.
“We’ll finish this lesson later,” Nick promised, earning an embarrassed blush from Dana and a wide, approving smile from Betsy.
Dana found herself humming more and more frequently as the days sped by. She no longer froze up inside at Nick’s caresses. She welcomed them. She even longed for them, when she was lying in her bed alone, an aching heaviness in her abdomen, the moisture of arousal forming unbidden at the apex of her thighs. The need to have him fill the emptiness inside her was growing, overwhelming her senses.
One morning she was wandering around the library daydreaming, humming under her breath, when the aging postman came by.
“Morning, Ms. Brantley.”
“Hi, Davey. I hope that’s not another batch of bills.”
“Don’t think so. Seems like there’s a couple of new books today and a couple of letters.”
“Thanks. Just put the whole batch on the desk. Help yourself to something cool to drink in the back if you want to. It’s a real scorcher out there again today. I’m already looking forward to fall and it’s not even the Fourth of July.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Back when I was a kid around here we’d go to the icehouse on a day like this and get a bag of shavings and have a snowball fight. Cooled things down pretty well. Now I’d just welcome a soda, if you have any.”
“They’re in the refrigerator.”
When Davey had gone into the back, Dana picked up the stack of mail and idly flipped through it. As Davey had said, it was mostly flyers from the publishers. The corner of a white envelope caught her attention. Suddenly her heart slammed against her ribs, then seemed to come to a halt.
Dear God, no. Not another one.
She gingerly pulled the letter from the pile as if it were dynamite. In a very real way it was. It threatened to explode everything she held dear.
With shaking hands, she ripped it open and found another hate-filled note from Sam’s parents. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she read the cruel barbs, the vicious threats. They had seemed such wonderful people when she’d met them, kind and gentle and delighted about the marriage. They had adored Sam, however, and refused to see his faults, even after all the evidence was a matter of public record.
“Dammit, no,” she muttered, shredding the letter with hands that shook so badly she could hardly grasp the paper. “I won’t let them do this to me. I won’t let them make me go through it again.”
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Dana blinked hard and looked up to find Davey staring at her, his rheumy old eyes filled with concern.
“I’m fine.”
“Wasn’t bad news or something, was it?”
“No, Davey,” she said, trying to put a note of dismissal in her voice.
Davey took the hint, and after one last worried glance in her direction he shuffled out. “See you tomorrow, ma’am.”
Dana didn’t respond. She just sank down in her chair and stared blindly at the shredded letter. Desperate to rid herself of the awful reminder, she jerked open the drawers of the desk one after another in search of matches. She knew she’d brought some in along with some candles, in case of a power outage during one of the frequent summer storms.
She finally found them in the back of the bottom drawer. She put the offensive letter in the trash can and set fire to an edge of one piece. She watched as the flame darkened the corner, then curled inward to consume the rest.
But even after the tiny fire had burned itself out, she sat there shaken, wondering how long she could live with this torment before she shattered like a fragile glass figurine thrown against a brick wall.
Chapter 11
Nick could hear the creaking of Dana’s rocking chair as soon as he turned onto her street. He’d noticed for some time that the speed of her rocking increased in direct proportion to her level of agitation.
“She must be fit to be tied about something tonight,” he muttered as he slowed his pickup to a stop. He tried to glimpse her through the thick green branches of the lilac bush, but his view was blocked. She never had gotten around to pruning it back.
He approached the corner of the porch and held a paper sack up high where she could see it.
“Hot apple pie from Gracie’s. Interested?”
The rocking came to an abrupt halt, but she didn’t answer.
“Dana?”
“Hi, Nick.” There was absolutely no enthusiasm in her voice, and a knot formed in his stomach.
He parted a couple of branches so he could get a better look at her. “Hey, what’s the story? Can’t you do any better than that? Whatever happened to ‘How thoughtful of you, Nick,’ or maybe, ‘You’re wonderful’?”
He saw a faint smile steal across her lips, but it vanished just as quickly as it had come. She began rocking again and that, as much as the woebegone look on her face, sobered him.
Releasing the branches, which sprang back into place, he walked slowly around the house and entered through the back. He left the pie on the kitchen counter and went straight out to the porch. He caught hold of the back of the rocker and halted its motion long enough to drop a kiss on Dana’s brow. He gazed into her eyes and found the all-too-familiar sadness was back.
“What you need,” he prescribed, “is a long drive in the country.”
She shook her head. “I don’t feel much like going out.”
“Which is exactly why you should go. It’s a nice night. There’s a breeze stirring. We can ride along the river, maybe stop for ice cream. If you play your cards right, I’ll show you my favorite place to stop and neck. We can watch the moon come up.”
“I don’t think so.”
Nick sat down next to her and put his hand on the arm of the rocker to stop the motion again. He struggl
ed to curb a brief surge of impatience. “What’s wrong?”
When she started to respond, he held up his hand. “If you tell me I can’t help, I’m going to pick you up, rocker and all, and dump you in the river.”
She blinked at the lightly spoken threat, and this time her smile was full-blown. Her eyes sparkled, albeit unwillingly.
“Oh, really?” she challenged. “You and who’s army?”
“You don’t think I can do it?” He got to his feet, put a hand on each armrest and lifted the chair. Dana crossed her legs and grinned at him.
“Now what?” she inquired demurely.
Nick tried to take a step, but the bulkiness of his burden made movement awkward, if not impossible.
“I thought so,” she said. “All talk.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nick lowered the chair, scooped Dana out of it and stalked across the porch and through the house.
“Nick Verone, put me down.”
“And have you think I’m some hundred-and-seventy-pound weakling? Oh, no.” The back door slammed open, rattling on its hinges.
“Nicholas, where are you taking me?” Her voice rose, but it was laced with laughter.
“I told you—to the river. It’s a great night for a swim, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Who’s going to stop me?”
“I am.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” she murmured provocatively. Suddenly Dana’s lips found the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck. Nick gasped as her tongue drew a little circle on his flesh.
Edge of Forever Page 14
