by Brenda Novak
Capping the syringe, she dropped it into the paper sack where she’d been keeping all the other used needles.
“If he goes low in the night, what do you do?”
“Wake him up and feed him a small can of peaches.”
“What if you’re sleeping and you aren’t aware that he’s low?”
She put Max’s diabetes supplies back in the black pouch. “That’s the risk I take every time I close my eyes. His brain requires sugar to survive. A body will conserve as long as it can, and shuttle what it has to the brain. But if Max goes too low and there’s simply not enough sugar in his blood…”
Her words dwindled off, which was all the answer Preston needed. If Max went too low, he could die. Here today, gone tomorrow. Just like Dallas.
Sorry he’d asked, Preston stood up. He sympathized with the burden Emma was carrying, wanted to help her. But he couldn’t help without caring, and he couldn’t care because he couldn’t withstand losing what he’d lost before.
“I’m going to the Laundromat,” he said, and moved abruptly to the door.
“Hurry,” she said. “I can’t wait to get out of this swimsuit.”
Preston thought about the lingerie and other items he hadn’t given her yet. He supposed now was the best time to dig them out of the van. She needed them. And he’d be gone when she looked through the sack, so he wouldn’t have to hide his reaction when she pulled out those skimpy panties.
Maybe he couldn’t offer Emma any real emotional support. But he could certainly give her some clothes.
EMMA COULDN’T believe it. Judging from all the tags and the receipts she found carelessly wadded up or tossed into this bag or that, Preston had spent nearly fifteen hundred dollars on her and Max. Yet, when he’d left an hour earlier, he’d handed her the bags without even waiting for her to open them.
Standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom, she admired the elegant cream robe she’d just put on. It was made of silk and fit her as perfectly as everything else he’d provided. Except for a pair of white sandals that pinched her toes.
Astonished that he’d bought her such lovely items, and so many of them, she stared at the stack of clothes she’d tried on several times already: a pair of pajama bottoms with a matching spaghetti-strap tank top, bras and panties every bit as beautiful and expensive as the lingerie Manuel had insisted she wear, another pair of sandals besides the ones that pinched, along with more casual flip-flops, makeup, shorts and shirts. And he’d bought Max almost as much: shorts, shirts, boxers, socks, toys, an expensive pair of athletic shoes, even a pair of cleats!
Why? They were planning to reach Iowa tomorrow. Iowa meant goodbye. And Preston didn’t want them along in the first place.
She heard the outside door open and held her breath. He was back. She thought he might poke his head in to see if she liked what he’d given her, to see if it all fit, but he didn’t. The door connecting the living room to the bedroom remained shut, and the television went on.
Emma couldn’t help feeling disappointed. That was it? He bought her fifteen-hundred-dollars worth of merchandise and didn’t think about it again?
Evidently money was as unimportant to Preston as she’d suspected. Which meant the gifts he’d given her were probably meaningless to him, as well. She needed clothes; he’d bought them. Merely a practical, if generous, approach to solving the problem.
She pulled her hair into a ponytail. What had she expected? Too much, evidently. But regardless of how or why he’d done this, he’d been more than kind. She had to thank him.
Tightening the belt of her robe, she slipped into the living room.
He didn’t turn at her approach.
“Did you find the Laundromat okay?” she asked.
Over his shoulder, she could see television stations flashing across the screen as he deftly wielded the remote. “Yeah, there was one just a few blocks away.”
“That was lucky.”
He settled on Conan O’Brien’s monologue and started folding the clean clothes piled in front of him.
“Preston?”
“What?”
“Could you look at me for a second?”
A scowl marred his handsome face. “What is it?”
“Thanks for the clothes. I—”
He turned back to the television. “No problem.”
Emma wondered if he could be embarrassed by his own kindness. He didn’t like to show his softer side, but after everything he’d done for her, she knew he had one. “Okay, well, I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Good. You need the rest.”
She cleared her throat. “I can tell you don’t really want to hear this, but…” He seemed to be ignoring her. “I appreciate all the things you bought us.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Good night.”
Her excitement over her elegant new clothes dimmed. “Good night,” she replied, and left.
PRESTON KNEW he should breathe a big sigh of relief and let Emma go to bed. He didn’t want to think about her in that sheer lingerie, didn’t want to break down and do something he’d later regret.
But maybe he’d been too gruff. Maybe it wouldn’t have killed him to admire a few things, let her feel good about them.
With a curse, he got up. From the glimpse he’d had of her in that silky robe, he knew he was setting himself up for another sleepless night. But he could tell he’d disappointed her.
He knocked softly on the door.
“Yes?”
She was brushing her teeth. Walking into the bedroom, he leaned a shoulder against the wall, so he could watch her. “I’ve changed my mind.”
She wiped her mouth and set her toothbrush aside. “About what?”
His gaze swept over her, taking in the details of the silk robe. It fell to a low V in front, revealing a generous and very stirring amount of cleavage, and hit her midthigh. Beautiful. Felicia had certainly known what she was doing. “I want to see you in the rest of the stuff I bought,” he said.
Her eyebrows shot up. “The clothes?”
Their eyes met, and something powerful arced between them, obliterating the pretense he’d used to let himself come back here. “The underwear,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
He considered her for several seconds. “You wanted my attention, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“You’ve got it now.” He grinned as his pulse sped up. “Is it a little more than you bargained for?”
“I’m not sure.” She toyed nervously with the ends of her belt. “I can’t think when you smile at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“It makes me want to see you in your underwear.”
His breath caught, and he stepped closer. “You’ve already seen me.”
“Which is how I know the sight’s worth seeing again.”
They were flirting with disaster, and he knew it. They’d be in Iowa tomorrow, faced with saying goodbye. But he couldn’t turn away.
The front of her robe brushed against his chest, and he lowered his voice. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
She lifted her chin so she could look into his eyes. “You didn’t seem interested a few minutes ago.”
“I’m willing to make that up to you.” He tugged on her belt, and she grabbed his hand. When he laced his fingers through hers, she stepped back, pulling him into the bathroom with her. The door clicked shut behind him, and it was the most hopeful sound he’d ever heard.
A moment later, her belt slithered to the ground, leaving her standing two feet away with her robe parted.
She was watching him intently, looking just a little unsure. So he was careful not to touch her when he pushed the silky fabric to each side.
No bra. But that was hardly a disappointment. Her breasts were perfectly formed, heavy enough to settle nicely in his hands, pert enough to win any wet-T-shirt contest. The sight of them kicked Preston’s stomach into his throat. “You�
�re beautiful.”
“Someone has good taste in panties.”
He lowered his gaze—and felt his whole body go rigid. She was wearing the black ones. “Those are my favorite.”
At the hoarse sound of his voice, she offered him a flirtatious smile. “How do you know? You haven’t seen the other ones.”
“Oh, yes, I have. About a million times in my mind.” He’d told himself he wouldn’t touch her, but he’d never expected her to encourage him. A man could only stand so much.
He slid a hand inside her robe to rest on the curve of her waist and waited to see how she’d respond.
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and her breathing went shallow. Two very good signs. As he slowly moved his hand upward, she closed her eyes and arched toward him—and suddenly he had both breasts in his hands. He trailed kisses over her soft skin from her collarbone down, thinking she might finally stop him. Part of him prayed she would. But when her hands came up, they didn’t push him away. They clenched in his hair and held his head where it was—and she moaned softly as his mouth closed over one nipple.
The sound of her pleasure made him want to feel her, taste her, plunge inside her with eager, powerful strokes. He’d never desired a woman so badly. But he was afraid anything too aggressive would spook her. After Manuel, she couldn’t handle too much, too fast.
Raising his head, he kissed the very edge of her mouth, and she turned her head to seek his lips. She slid her tongue lazily against his, as though relishing the sensation it provoked.
That was perfect. He covered her nipples with his thumbs as their kissing grew deeper, more passionate. “You feel so good,” he murmured.
She guided his mouth to her other breast. He suckled her until she whispered his name. Then he slipped a hand down her flat stomach, past her belly button and even lower, until he skimmed the top of those lacy panties. She swayed in his arms as he ran his fingers lightly over the fabric, back and forth—and finally delved underneath.
Immediately her legs came together, denying him access.
“Emma…” His voice was raspy, foreign, even to his own ears.
Her eyes locked with his. She looked worried. He told himself to walk away, to put some space between them. Because of Vince, he had no future, no life, no right to be doing this. But he’d never felt so helpless. “Let me touch you, Emma,” he whispered.
She bit her lip uncertainly and he kissed her again—long, deep kisses that showed her everything he was feeling. Slowly, her legs parted, and euphoria caused his every nerve to tingle.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you. I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”
She nodded.
Supporting her back and shoulders with one arm, he watched her face as his fingers searched for—and found—what he wanted.
“Look at me,” he whispered, enjoying her expression. “Do you like this?”
Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled faintly. But he didn’t need more of an answer. The way her pupils dilated told him enough. And her mouth…It was slightly parted and still wet from their last kiss. She seemed dazed, as swept away as he was.
Nothing seemed to matter beyond the here and now. He claimed her with two fingers, and her eyes opened wide. “Oh!” she said. But he was pretty sure her exclamation conveyed pleasure and surprise, not alarm. She didn’t push at him or recoil, but he tried to reassure her anyway.
“You’re okay, Emma.” He kissed her bare shoulder. “Relax.”
He knew she was probably too wound up to relax, too sensitive to his touch, but her arousal fed his own. Burying his face in her neck, he reveled in her musky scent, her silky feel. When she began to rock with his movements, every muscle in his body grew tense. She was moaning softly, clinging to him. Then she suddenly pushed him deeper, and he groaned with her as she shuddered against him.
He was aching to be inside her, but he waited, hoping the passion he’d seen in her eyes a moment earlier wouldn’t be gone when she opened them. He wanted to finish what they’d started, but this wasn’t about sex. This was about believing in life again.
Finally, she looked up at him. He tried to maintain his composure, to be aloof, indifferent, just in case. But he couldn’t manage any emotional distance. The loss of Dallas seemed to bleed like an open wound right in front of her. He couldn’t hide his pain or his need.
“Preston?”
He closed his eyes at the sound of his name on her lips. It was tender, knowing. Reaching out, she touched his cheek. Then she began to pull off his shirt.
Her hands felt cool as ice as she ran them over his burning skin. He liked her caresses. Her eagerness carried him to even greater heights. But he stopped her before he lost himself completely. “I want to make love to you, Emma,” he said. “But I can’t promise you anything after we reach Iowa. There are…things I have to do. You may never see me again.”
“I don’t want to hear that right now.”
“But I can’t take any more guilt or regret. If this…if this is going to make your life harder somehow…”
She held his face, made him look at her. “Stopping now would be harder than anything.”
“But I don’t have any birth control. I haven’t been with anyone since Christy.”
“I’m on the pill.” She gave him a shaky grin. “So help me get your pants off. I can’t seem to do it fast enough.”
He peeled her panties away first, but left her robe on. He liked touching her while the silk brushed against his arms. It seemed more intimate that way, as if he held the prized, secret key.
When he finally stripped off his boxer briefs, her eyes went round, and he laughed at her quick, shy smile.
“Are you embarrassed?” he murmured, pressing her against the wall and kissing the indentation below her ear.
Her eyebrows arched and her smile widened. “Actually, I’m impressed.”
When he laughed again, something cracked inside him, something that allowed a little light to penetrate the darkness of the past two years. He took a deep breath as relief and joy engulfed him. With Emma, he felt healthy and strong, almost like his old self.
“I’ll take it slow and easy,” he promised, but the moment he felt her tight around him he lost all control. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
A few minutes later he was sure of it.
“MOMMY? Are you in there?”
Emma froze, her body still slick with sweat, Preston breathing heavily against her. “Um…” She cleared her throat when her voice squeaked. “I’ll be out in a minute, sweetheart.”
“Where’s Preston?”
She could hear Preston’s labored breathing in her ear. “Tell him…I’m in…the Jacuzzi,” he said.
But she couldn’t manage that many words quite yet. After what had just happened, it was difficult to gather her faculties. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this…if she’d ever felt like this. “He…he’s gone.”
“He’s coming back, isn’t he?” Max was obviously worried. “He said we’d play baseball tomorrow.”
“He’ll be back.”
“You zapped my strength,” Preston whispered to her, laughing softly. “I can hardly move.”
She smiled because she was pretty sure that without him holding her up, she’d crumple to the floor. “Kids have the worst timing.”
“It definitely could’ve been worse.”
That much was true.
“I’m scared,” Max said. “Will you lie down with me?”
Emma felt Preston kiss her sweaty temple and loved that he didn’t seem to mind the messy part of sex. Manuel had always treated her as though she was somehow distasteful to him afterward. “If you’ll get back in bed and wait for me there, I’ll be out in a minute,” she told Max.
There was a pause. “Okay,” he said at last.
Silence fell as Max shuffled off, and Preston moved away to run a warm, wet cloth over her body. “You’re so lovely,” he murmure
d.
She reveled in the frank admiration in his eyes. She still wanted to be with him, to enjoy the aftermath of what they’d just shared. But her child came first.
She finished washing up and put her robe on while Preston dressed. Then she turned toward him. She didn’t know what to say. What had happened seemed too powerful, too profound for words.
Giving her the sexy grin she loved so much, he drew her robe tighter at the top. “What time do you get up to test Max?”
“Three.”
“Don’t set your alarm. I’ll take care of it tonight.”
She stared at him. “Are you sure you know how?”
“You showed me earlier, remember?”
“But if you oversleep—”
He cupped her face. “Emma.”
Her eyes met his clear blue ones. “What?”
“I won’t oversleep. If he’s above one-fifty, I’ll let you know he needs a shot. If he’s under a hundred, I’ll feed him.”
Preston’s offer was really nice. But she wasn’t used to having help, didn’t know if she could accept it. Manuel had never gotten up in the night with Max, not even when he was a baby, and she was terrified Preston might not follow through. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll probably wake up anyway.”
“Don’t. I’ve got it,” he said simply. And when he slipped his hand inside her robe to cup her breast as he gave her a final kiss, she decided to trust him. After all, he hadn’t let her down yet.
PRESTON LAY awake on the opposite bed, watching Emma. With her mouth slightly parted and one arm flung over her head, she seemed to be sleeping deeply. The moonlight that drifted lazily through the wooden shutters made the creamy skin revealed by the narrow straps of her tank top glisten like a shiny pearl. He couldn’t help remembering the feel of that satiny skin beneath his hands.
He’d thought, after their lovemaking in the bathroom, that he’d be able to forget about touching Emma. At least for a while. But he hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her.
With a silent curse, he cut off the memory of her legs wrapping around him. God, he had such a one-track mind. He’d spent two years filled with nothing except a thirst for vengeance and resolution. He still yearned for those things. But now he craved Emma just as much. He tried to blame his rampant hormones on the fact that he’d gone so long without a woman. But he wasn’t talking two years anymore. He was talking three hours.
